#dragonborn is going to sleep a LOT the next two days

[aladaylessecondblog]

FHW but omegaverse 6

Author's Note: He's a vampire so there'll be blood drinking. Reference to jerking off. stg I have 5 million other things to write but nooo, this is what gets written. no smut unfortunately.

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Torovan had been certain, absolutely certain, that if anything were wrong he'd have scented it. Felt it. However muted the bond was, he could still pick up bits of Sadrith's mood and how she was feeling.

Irritation, mostly. She didn't like being beholden to anything like this. Now that he bothered to pay attention to what he she was giving off, it was obvious. A dash of panic, fear--of him. He supposed that made sense...some omegas had been taught to be fearful of alphas. Perhaps she had been one of them. She'd said she never presented, but surely she'd have read about it, and what was reported in books was often more extreme than necessary.

The problem remained: the bond was there, and there was no reversing it. They would simply have to deal with it. Sigurd no doubt would think him a fool, he'd thought himself a fool when he realized what he'd done. Surely, he thought, she must know who he was.

But it was obvious now that she didn't. She didn't know him, and there was the slightest of feelings that she didn't WANT to know him...

...there was also something she didn't want him to see. Perhaps she just hated the idea of being perceived as lesser? Some omegas felt that way...but most got over it if they were bonded to a good alpha.

The next couple of days were spent largely apart, with him easing the burn in his blood while holding that scarf of hers or one of her blankets to his nose, trying desperately to keep that weak scent present, to fool his body into thinking it was her body bringing this pleasure, and not his hand. It was odd, though--his ruts weren't usually so bad. No sooner would the deed be done than he would want it again. His nigh-legendary self control was becoming ever harder to maintain in the face of such overwhelming desire. Yet at the same time each finish was less satisfying.

He simply knew he could NOT indulge in her, however much he wanted to. Her blood called out to him as much as her body did, and it was that same blood that would ruin him, as it had in the past. It would drag him back to what Sigurd had saved him from--how could she not know what she was, with this blood coursing through her veins?

Her scent would be enough to get him through this...and if anything were wrong, he'd do just enough to keep her in good shape. She didn't want this either, after all.

But as the two days passed, he felt less and less from the link, as if it were fading into the distance.

Dragonborn--Sadrith, he corrected himself--didn't seem to speak much. She slept, but if he checked on her it was a fitful sort of rest. She'd look up at him and mutter something about 'the shadow man' and then turn away. A nightmare, she said, and that--that sent a fear of his own running through his mind.

Was she seeing his darker half? The side of him that Sigurd assured him was gone...he decided that first night to keep his distance more, to see if that might ease things.

It didn't seem to. She stayed in the tent the second day, claiming utter exhaustion. He noticed on the third morning that she didn't come out to eat, and he remembered, suddenly, he hadn't seen her eat for at least a day.

The answer to all his questions were given the moment he lifted the tent flap and was hit with the horrible, overwhelming scent of distress.

Sadrith was in pain, mentally, physically. She was barely awake, and didn't seem to have seen him yet. All her focus was on the skooma bottle in her hands.

"So that's it," he said, "I should have guessed."

"Torovan," Sadrith mumbled, "S'rry. Can't stay awake..."

She lifted the bottle to her lips but he snatched it away before she could drink.

"Do you not know the damage this is doing? The damage it CAN do?"

"I n'd it," she reached clumsily for the bottle in his hands. "Mind fuzzy, hard to get going...threats...but I needed...more...last few days. Can't stay awake without it. Sleep...not good."

"Skooma is the entire reason you're in this shape!" he snapped, and felt a pang in his chest when she flinched and fell back. "Sadrith--skooma blunts your omega reactions. And the more you drink, the worse it gets. The bond--"

"Why d'u care?" Sadrith slurred, "You don't wannit. Can't feel anything. Better."

You did this to her, he thought, Look at her, look at your mate. You rejected her and she's resorted to the skooma to stop the pain.

But the skooma had only made it all worse. The weaker the bond became the more fragile her own health grew - he could only assume he had been lucky, due to...what, he wasn't sure. Perhaps because he was a vampire, or rather, that he was undead?

"Been'n skooma my whole life. To help. The mind whirlwind." Sadrith gestured vaguely, and looked up squinting, as if she couldn't really see him right.

That explained so much. Had she not been on skooma the whole time for--whatever she was talking about--would he have been able to scent what she was sooner? To think of the time they'd lost...in addition to the pain he'd caused.

He looked through the bag at her side, taking out five bottles of skooma--three of them empties. He found her waterskin, and bringing her up into a sitting position, lifted it to her lips. She didn't argue, but drank deeply. She ate in the same way when he offered her a bit of bread and cheese from another one of her bags.

"S'tired..." Sadrith mumbled, and curled against him, breathing deeply. She trembled for a moment, and moved even closer, burying her face in his neck.

Then another feeling.

The fear of abandonment. Unbridled terror at the idea he would leave.

When he didn't shrink away, when he wrapped both arms around her, she breathed deep and exhaled shakily.

It did not take long at all for her to fall asleep.

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For Sadrith, it was a confusing blur of time, those few days.

Feeling tired, she'd taken a little more skooma, but then found when she did sleep the actual quality of it went down. The bond had been thinner and thinner for her...and then the skooma had stopped helping what was wrong with her mind entirely.

And everything was pain. She hadn't wanted to eat, drink, nothing.

The urge to seek him out, to curl close, to cling and refused to be move had been terribly insistent. But he'd already shown he didn't want her, or the bond, and on top of being used to resisting persistent intrusive thoughts, she refused to give in. He didn't want her and she would not beg.

But the longer she resisted, the worse things felt. Sluggishness turned into barely wanting to get up at all; listlessness and fatigue that wouldn't go away. It wasn't until she woke up to find him in the tent that she realized how badly she wanted him.

And then all she could think was him, his scent, keeping him close. Any thought of resisting had faded and left her only with instinct--instinct that felt to her like the compulsions she often had, the ones she tried so hard to fight back. He gave her water, gave her something to eat - and the resistance she'd had to doing both was suddenly gone, now he was the one helping it along.

Sadrith kept close, and when he embraced her she got as close as she could, buried her face against his neck and finally, FINALLY she could relax.

Then she felt all the anxiety receding, and she slept.'

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She woke to nothing.

Or rather, Torovan wasn't there, but Sadrith was surrounded by his scent; that spice and musk that completely enveloped her. The enjoyment stopped the moment she picked up that he was angry, and for a few minutes she thought it might be at her. She gathered the fur cloak of his that he'd left, pulled it around herself, and relaxed again.

It was alright. She was alright.

Him. Him. Home. Safe.

The words ran through her mind before she could really lock onto them.

(Everything was fine. She was exactly where she was supposed to be.)

She thought so, at least, until she felt the pain in her gut. The skooma--she wanted it, needed it. Maybe it had blunted the bond too much but...maybe a small sip wouldn't hurt...

No sooner had she started looking for it than the tent flap opened and Torovan appeared, with a bowl of stew he pushed into her hands.

"What'd you do with my skooma?" she asked, after scarfing it down and putting the bowl aside.

"I threw it out, it was doing you harm. You could've--you could've died. You could've killed both of us, taking that poison."

"It's the only thing that helps." A feeling came then, the familiar sensation of a rushing river in her mind. The river she tried so much to avoid. "You know what you would be on it? That's what I am off it. It would make you fly, but for me...it's...it's the only thing that keeps me on the ground."

What use was there in keeping it back from him? He'd feel it soon anyway, this typhoon in her mind.

"My mother tells me Akatosh gave me the dragonblood and soul...and Sheogorath cursed me, so I wouldn't turn into Tiber Septim." She looked down, and took a sip from the waterskin he handed her next. "A few healers she took me to said it's an affliction they see now and then...attention issues, high energy, creativity, an inability to make myself actually DO a lot of things. Said that types like mine do well adventuring, so..."

Gods above, it felt so good to have him there, to not only see but feel his interest in her well-being. Like it had been at Helgen, she asked herself: was this what having an alpha was supposed to be like?

"I found this little cure quite by accident when I was a child..." She took a deep breath, unable to stop herself going on. This. This was another of her curses, and she hated it. Sometimes she just couldn't shut up. "...my mother traveled with a khajiit caravan, and one of the khajiit left his skooma out. Everyone panicked when they realized I'd drunk some of it...until they found me quietly sitting and mending one of the tents. They'd never seen me so calm, and the next morning I was tentatively offered a smaller amount. I've been on it ever since."

Another deep breath.

"It's the only thing that helps. I've tried herbs and potions of every kind, but...nothing else touches it. Then when I began to suspect...it muted the bond...I figured...I needed my mind clear more than I needed a mal--an alpha that didn't want me anyway. I thought I would rather...ah...w...seal myself away from this, than...lose my mind again and be stuck chasing whatever good feeling I can scrape out-out-out just to--get through the day. I've served my-my purpose and what am I for...now?"

She hated mixing her words up like that, because then she'd realize she was making a mistake, trip, and stumble further. The harder she forced herself to speak the worse it got.

This is why I need the skooma! I can't be a hero if I sound like a babbling fool!

Torovan wasn't speaking--she felt concern from him, but she was sure he was judging her. She was always sure that everyone was judging her...and right now she was simply too tired to wear the mask of the fearless hero.

Go ahead, she thought, Tell me how weak I am.

He didn't do that.

Torovan let out a long breath and (seeing she was done eating and had put the bowl down) raised her hands to his bandaged face. "You have served your purpose in prophecy, and find yourself at what you feel is a dead end?"

She could see concern in that one exposed red eye of his, feel it from the bond, that seemed stronger every moment. Gods, she was luxuriating in an OCEAN of good feeling right now. She could shut her eyes and die happy, drowning in the sensation.

"You seem as if you know the feeling," she said quietly.

"Let us say," Torovan gave a dry chuckle, "That I do. Sigurd saved me from being nothing more than a line in the books of history, and now...well. I want to aid him."

"Funny you didn't claim him, if you were so close." She paused. "You might not have gotten stuck with me."

"Sigurd's not an omega. And what do you mean, stuck?"

"You didn't want..."

"I was...hasty. I'm--" Torovan stumbled, and tightened his grip on her wrists. His eye shut. "I'm sorry for rejecting you. I could have killed you...and all I could think was that I wanted to be left alone. You have no idea the surprise I felt...when I realized..."

"When you realized what?"

"When I realized Azura had given me a mate." His eye opened. "She and I have never been on the best of terms...so for her to have made you...what you are...it puzzles me. Especially since you are every bit a reckless gremlin. I never thought that if I were fortunate enough to get an omega, or a mate...that it would be someone like you."

"Did you want a meek and mild omega? Someone to keep a house, to bear your children, nothing more?"

Touching him was wonderful. The feeling of knowing he was scenting her, and being scented in turn...

"Of course not. I never thought to have an omega at all. I thought to spend my life without one. To use my time to help Sigurd in whatever endeavor he might be undertaking...to disappear altogether."

"It doesn't work like that." She breathed deep and leaned in closer, and spoke with her nose right against a scent gland. "You go on existing anyway. Trust me, I know. I wanted to just stay up on the mountain but...it's not suited to my taste, to be alone. I hate being perceived, but I crave company."

"The same as me." Torovan laughed.

His hands moved again and he turned her head--now it was his turn to take a deep breath of her scent. He growled, and Sadrith felt the slightest jerk in her gut. Desire.

"If I was feeling better," she said, "I would..."

"You don't know me. I rejected you right off - why would you WANT to?"

"This feeling. I want more of it." Sadrith looked away. "Without the skooma I seek the easiest possible joy in every situation, and..."

And she was craving it now. Too much bad feeling of late, she wanted to soak, drown, in the good.

"...and I never get anything done."

"You're in no condition for that..." Torovan started.

"I won't be in any condition for anything anyway." Sadrith shook her head. "You can probably already feel the mess in this head of mine. If you can do anything to fix it...or if you'd let me have a sip of--surely a little won't hurt."

"A little could still kill you right now." There was a pause. "I suppose there is something I could do, but--"

"Then do it." Sadrith replied instantly. "I don't care what it is. Do it."

"I haven't even told you what it is. There's that recklessness again." There was a slight sound of a chuckle. "I hesitate to suggest it because it's...you would be putting yourself under my power, even more so than you already have."

"How?" She was impatient--for answers, for relief.

"A vampire's thrall does not go straight from a normal state of mind to their thralldom, there are...stages of influence. I hesitate to offer this option for...obvious reasons. It would allow me to...meddle in your mind, and I prefer not to tempt myself that way."

"Have you done something like that before?"

Torovan was silent for a long period. Agonizing, for her in the current state - she was trying so hard to keep her attention centered on him, so much so it only added to the pains in her body from the skooma withdrawal.

She felt--something dodgy from the bond. Something was wrong. He was hiding something, something that he was frightened by. An easy 'yes' to her question that he didn't want to give voice to.

"A time or two," he finally said. "I would be biting you again...and it would almost certainly--"

"If you were suggesting this a few days ago I would have thought you crazy. Biting again will...reinforce the bond, won't it?"

"Have you already forgotten that you would be in danger of falling under my influence...or in danger of my draining you dry."

"Keep my mind clear, and you can do what you like with me," Sadrith said, after a long pause. "I can enjoy nothing with my mind in this condition...and if you wanted to do anything terrible with me you'd have done it already. You could have killed me easily, just by letting me drink the skooma."

"Which would have offed me as well...or at the very least, put me in a condition like yours for quite some time. Fated mates suffer immensely when one dies."

He seemed intent on informing her again of the risks, and Sadrith heard them. But all she could think was relief, and pleasure. The relief of a clear mind and the pleasure of his skin against hers.

Even just his hands on her own was wonderful.

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

When she made it clear a third time she wasn't afraid to take the risk, Torovan did what he had done the first time he bit her. He had her lay down, get comfortable, and expose her neck. He looked over the mark he'd left. The wound, however healed up it was, was cleaner than he'd wish. It was almost faded, and that--that sent an unpleasant sensation through his body.

How he wished they were spending this rut of his otherwise - how he wished she was taller, that as he had her he could have his face against her neck, consume himself with her scent as he--

"What are you waiting for?" Sadrith finally piped up. "You're making me nervous, just--staring like that."

This rut cannot be over soon enough, he grumbled to himself. There was much they had to discuss, and much he had to figure out HOW to discuss with her. Would she welcome him so sweetly if she knew the truth? Would she be so eager to put herself under his power, if she knew what a terrible temptation it was?

No.

He would wait to tell her.

But in the meantime...

"Would you prefer I take the bandages off?"

"No," Sadrith said, "Keep them on...it doesn't matter to me. When we get to Riften and the face sculptor works her magic, you can show me the face you want me to see. Of course if you'd rather--"

He was moving down before she could say more, and when his fangs grazed her neck there was a sense of elation. What he would have felt before, had he not been so angry.

The instant his fangs sank into Sadrith's neck she gave out a moan that went straight to his cock. The instant her blood crossed his tongue, it was difficult not to draw back so he could claim her properly. Instinct was clawing at the door, begging to be let out, and it only swelled in prominence the more he drank.

(There had never been much information about a vampire drinking the blood of the omega he claimed, and nothing at all if a fated mate was involved. But her blood sang in his veins, thrilled him as nothing else had in a very long time.)

He finally forced himself to pull back when he heard Sadrith whimpering about it being, "Too much."

The bite was healed to stop the bleeding, but the mark of it remained. As he wiped off the last few drops from his lips he reveled in the sight. This time there was no anger. This time, there was only the thrill, the satisfaction of marking her.

"Now," he said, "I need you to stay as you are."

It was almost frightening to go back. To lay a hand on her face, to reach into her mind as he had done to others centuries ago, and twist what was there. He felt the rush, the chaos all around him, and slowly, bit by bit, he was able to adjust things. Not perfectly at first, but enough to calm the storm Sadrith was so afraid of. He could feel her relief through the bond as it calmed down, the utter joy at the increasing lack of chaos.

It was like putting on an old comfortable robe, to fiddle with a mind. Almost too comfortable. But she had asked for it, and when she opened her eyes she smiled up at him.

"Thank you...the bite was incredible but..." She gave a sigh, "...my mind is my own again."

There was a pause.

"...but...you might want to do something about...that."

"Hmm?" Torovan had been dwelling on the peace she felt, the joyful calm, and he realized he hadn't heard half what she said. "About what?"

Sadrith shifted her leg. "You're, ah...aroused. If you aren't going to let me do anything about that you might want to--"

As much as he wanted to let her, she was still recovering, and he'd taken her blood anyway. She needed a sweetroll...and some rest. He found a half crushed sweetroll in her bag, and when pressed she ate it. But there was a question to follow.

"How much longer will you be in rut?"

"Ah--another four days, if the pattern holds." It would, he knew. He could set the clock by when his cycle stopped and started.

She shifted again.

"Then see if you can control yourself another two. And we can give you a reward for helping me out."

Even in her current state, still weakened, freshly bled, she was flirtatious. Gods above, this woman was intoxicating.

And he would not again make the mistake of turning any of it down.

[lostinforestbound]

The fic is going well! I'm on a roll and after I'm done I'll be searching for a Beta-Reader! For now, to tie you all over:

Romantic Zevlor Headcanons

This sad old man is incredibly traditional in the sense of romance. He plans dates to the very hour, brings flowers, cleans himself up nicely, kisses the top of his partners hand and offers his arm as they walk; the perfect man to date! He's also very experienced.

I would say he's not shy about romance, but definitely reserved. He didn't have time for it once he became a Hellrider, it pulled all his focus in. After his oath is broken and he got cast out from Elturel with the other refugees, that also pulled his focus away from even considering a relationship.

When everything is finally calm, he doubts that anyone would even want him in this stage of his life. He's an old, tired man and he made his peace with it. Then his partner comes along and throws him in for a loop! He starts to feel alive again.

He plans dates out strategically, but would not stress out if something doesn't go according to plan. He can easily go with the flow. If his partner is stressed out however, he would give them a kiss on the forehead and say something along the lines of "It is all right, my love. Let us try something else."

Quality time is important to him. His favorites are long walks! The beach, forest, a meadow, some hills, a hike, he loves to get moving! And it's even better with a partner where they can talk about anything and everything while in the privacy of nature. It's wonderful! If his partner prefers to stay home though, he's completely content with sitting by the fire.

His main love language is absolutely acts of service! He loves taking care of his partner and doing things for them. He makes food for them, patches their clothes, and makes sure their things are organized the way they like it. This man also gives some of the best massages!

Gods he loves cuddling. He adores it, actually! After a long day, he looks forward to going to bed with them the most. It calming and honestly helps him sleep much better. He's slept alone a lot, and he missed having another body next to him.

Zevlor has been through quite a bit, so of course he would have nightmares about a multitude of things! Especially regarding his fuck up in the Shadow Cursed Lands. He doesn't quite wake up in a cold sweat since he's used to them, but they still startle him awake sometimes. He's not afraid to ask for help from his partner if nights are a struggle for him.

On that point, he's a fantastic communicator! If anything is bothering him, even if he's embarrassed, he will discuss it with his partner. He personally does not like being kept in the dark about what his partner is feeling, so why would he do that to them? It benefits no one. If his partner needs more time to figure out their words, he will absolutely give it, but there is no hiding anything from him.

His kisses are usually gentle, and he loves holding his partner's face in his hands while doing so! He's incredibly tender in everything he does involving them, but he also loves to tease! When he kisses the top of their hand, he'll kiss up their arm to their neck and eventually their face, littering pecks all over. Bonus points if his partner is ticklish, he enjoys their laughs and giggles as it brings him genuine joy.

If his partner is a tiefling or a tailed dragonborn, he absolutely would link his tail with theirs in a private setting. Usually he prefers to have his tail out of the way, especially in public, but when it's just the two of them he uses his tail pretty freely. This is because he finds tail-holding very intimate.

He doesn't mind public display of affection in other ways though! Hand holding, wayward pecks, sitting close, hugs, he loves it all. Sitting in his lap may get him flustered though, especially if his partner is very forward in their affection! Sometimes he feels as though his heart will give out with how fast it beats (maybe he's too old for this after all).

Zevlor isn't used to being taken care of at all, usually he's the one doing all the caring. When his partner starts doing it his head practically reels in shock, not expecting it to feel so nice. He doesn't outwardly ask for it but brushing his hair and massaging the tension out of his hands is something he adores. His partner always receives a 'thank you' kiss.

He knows how to dance, which can surprise people! Slow dancing is his preferred style, and he'll bring his partner in for a slow sway when they're alone. No music is needed in these intimate moments, his lover is all he wants anyways.

[keldae]

8. “If you give me a minute….I think I can make this worse.”

This was officially worse than the djinni incident, in Gale’s humble opinion.

First, he had been left in the camp that morning, when he’d woken up with a headache that wouldn’t abate, even with Shadowheart’s healing touch. He’d been forced to sit by while Devi had ventured out with Wyll, Astarion, and Jaheira – and the fretting about his beloved half-Elf did not ease his headache at all, even with Jaheira’s assurances that she wouldn’t let her “cub” get into too much trouble, despite Bhaalists and a psychotic shapeshifter in the form of Orin running around Baldur’s Gate.

An hour after the four had left, there had been what had to be the far-away, but still distinct sounds of a riot happening – yells, and explosions, and the too-familiar noises of a Steel Watcher mechanically issuing orders. Gale’s gut instincts told him that Devi was somehow involved.

The riot noises eventually subsided, and for a good portion of the day, it had been suspiciously peaceful around the camp. Gale’s headache still wasn’t going away, but after drinking an herbal tea that he’d sent Karlach to go barter for (thank Mystra that the tiefling had gotten the right one), it was almost bearable. He suspected he would be fine to accompany his beloved little thief in the morning on her next venture out into the city.

The Fist patrol stopping by the ramshackle camp was a surprise. The two guards had looked around the site for a minute, tilting their heads at Lae’zel and her impressive weapons collection, and blinking at the large owlbear cub (who Halsin, before his abduction, had named Garmus), and politely nodding at Dame Aylin and Isobel, before taking their leave. Apparently the nautiloid survivors weren’t the only adventurers to make their temporary residence in the run-down alleys of the Lower City – the Fist soldiers didn’t seem perturbed by their presence.

The two Guild members who had popped in about an hour later were another surprise. Gale felt his headache resurge when the dragonborn had asked about “a pretty half-Elf with her hands in everyone’s pockets, and a devil with a sword who looked a lot like a younger Duke Ravengard, and another particularly pale Elf with red eyes, and the older woman who was trying to corral the lot of them”. Eventually accepting that nobody left in the camp knew what the hells their friends had gotten into, the Guild members finally shrugged and walked off.

Then one of Jaheira’s adopted children had meandered in, took one look around for the High Harper, swore under her breath, and left the same way she’d come.

“Something’s gone wrong,” Gale said, fidgeting with his staff and ignoring Shadowheart trying to push him back to his tent. “Gods be damned, I should have gone with them!”

“You weren’t able to so much as sit up without your head trying to kill you until after noon!” Shadowheart retorted. “Sit down, or I’ll stuff a sleeping potion down your throat, Gale.”

Gale gifted the cleric with a scowl, then set to pacing through the camp, disregarding Shadowheart’s threat. “We need to find them. We should have set out when we first heard the pandemonium this morning. If we–”

“Baldur’s Gate’s a big city,” Karlach dubiously pointed out. “You really wanna go meandering down every street and back alley to find them? Jaheira and Devi can both blend into a crowd.”

“Wyll and Astarion both stand out though,” Lae’zel commented. “Unless there are other devils walking around the city with swords on their backs, or Elvish vampires. Surely we can find them.”

“Unless they’ve taken to the sewers again, or the rooftops,” Shadowheart said. She ignored Gale’s groan at the distinct possibility. “And gods help whoever tries to find someone in the sewers. If it were me, and I was being hunted by apparently everyone in the city, that’s where I would go.” She watched Gale pacing back and forth, and sighed. “Scratch, get Gale to sit down, will you?”

Scratch just barked inquisitively at Shadowheart, then trotted over to Isobel for pets.

“That wasn’t helpful,” Shadowheart muttered.

Dame Aylin chuckled, leaning against the wall. “I’m sure they’ll turn up soon – Deviali’s quite the resourceful one. She–” She yelped in surprise as the stones by her feet suddenly started to wriggle. “What the hells!”

A manhole was opened, disguised (for some reason that Gale would never be able to wrap his head around) by the cobblestones. Wyll’s horned head popped out of the opening; the warlock looked around, then grinned and looked back down. “Right one this time!” he called, before scrambling out of the hole. “So… we’ve had a day,” he started to say, brushing off his clothes from gods-only-knew-what. “Do you really want the details?”

“Oh, hell yes!” Karlach crowed, eyes alight with excitement.

Wyll made a face. “All right. So it started with Devi trying – and failing – to pick a Fist’s pocket… again. She got caught, and it was either ‘pick a fight and earn the ire of the entire Fist, plus a Steel Watcher’, or ‘run’, so we decided to run – or rather, she decided to run, and the three of us got roped in with her since the Fist’s companions had seen us together earlier.”

“Was that the riot noises we heard?” Isobel asked, tilting her head.

“I’m getting there.” Wyll sighed. “So, Devi decided to pick an escape route that took us through a crowd of people in a bazaar, and naturally the Fist gave chase. Here’s where it gets bad – my horns may have caught a low-hanging sign on a building as I was running and knocked it down, but it was attached with a clothesline to another building’s facade and brought it down in the middle of the crowd.”

That got winces from everyone listening. “Anyone hurt?” Shadowheart asked.

“Probably, but we didn’t have time to stop and check,” Wyll answered. “We somehow escaped some of the notice, but some of the civilians noticed the Fist and the Steel Watcher, and blamed them. Half of them started shouting at the soldiers, and the other half was trying to catch us. It was chaos.”

“So that was the sound of the riot…” Lae’zel murmured. “We wondered what that was.”

“If you give me a minute, I think I can make this story worse,” Wyll dryly said.

Gale stared at the warlock, his brain pounding in his skull. “It gets worse? Worse than the four of you being chased by the Fist and half of the Lower City?”

Wyll just winced and nodded. “Devi’s fine,” he quickly assured the wizard. “... Relatively speaking.”

Gale felt his eye twitch. “What do you mean, ‘relatively speaking’?”

“I’m getting there, Gale, keep your robes on. Where was I?” Wyll thought for a moment. “Ah, yes. So, we were running, and Devi ducked down an alley to throw off pursuit. There was an open manhole in the alley, so naturally the four of us dived down it.”

“Even Astarion?” Karlach asked with a laugh.

“Even Astarion,” Wyll confirmed. “We got down the ladder and started down the corridor we were in, until we came around a corner and found a group of Bhaalist cultists having some sort of a meeting. I’m not sure which of our groups was more startled – them, or us. But, you know Bhaalists – the weapons were coming out, no matter how Devi tried to talk us out of it.”

Gale sat down on a bench and started rubbing his temples. “How bad was it?”

“Surprisingly not that bad, all things considered. But, I do think I have to kill Mizora for fucking with my magic,” Wyll muttered. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she had done that, just to mess with me.”

“That’s a demon for you,” Dame Aylin said with a sage nod. “... What did you do?”

Wyll sighed, then took a subtle step away from Gale. “So, I was casting a spell, and was aiming at one of the cultists, but my spell went completely sideways… literally.” He gave Gale a sidelong look. “Devi… may or may not have gotten hit by it.”

Gale was back on his feet in a heartbeat, staff in his hands. “What?”

“It was an accident!” Wyll cried out. “And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t that bad a spell–”

Before he quite realised he was moving, Gale was in Wyll’s face and staring the other man down, his headache increased by his freshly-renewed bad mood. “What. Spell?”

“... Polymorph,” Wyll sheepishly said. “At least it wasn’t the eldritch blast?”

“Just what the hells did you polymorph her into?” Gale demanded.

Wyll just looked down at the manhole as another pair of gloved hands suddenly emerged. Jaheira clambered out of the manhole, grumbling under her breath and with a fiercely-wriggling satchel on her hip. Devi and Astarion, Gale noted with no small amount of dread, were nowhere to be seen. The High Harper looked at Wyll and smirked. “Ah, so you survived telling our resident wizard what you did to his beloved?”

“It was an accident, I swear!” Wyll said, quickly looking back at Gale. “If it’s any consolation, apparently it was a two-for-one cast – Astarion got hit with the polymorph as well.”

“And turned into what?” Shadowheart asked, coming up behind Gale with a curious look in her eyes.

In answer, Jaheira reached into her satchel and started fishing around. “Ow!” she exclaimed, glaring at the satchel and its contents before extracting both hands from the bag. In each hand, she held a writhing, angry kitten by the scruff of its neck – one coppery-red with green eyes, and one with bright white fur.

“... You polymorphed them into cats?” Gale demanded as Karlach collapsed with a howl of laughter.

“If it’s any consolation, I intended on polymorphing the cultist I was targeting into a sheep–” Wyll started to say.

“That is not consolation!” Gale reached out for the coppery kitten; Jaheira was only too willing to hand the cat over. The kitten, who had to be Devi to go by the fur and eye colour, stared at Gale as he held her at arm’s length and meowed plaintively at him. “Oh, my love,” Gale sighed, “what the hells happened to you?”

“Don’t listen to her complaining about the satchel,” Jaheira growled. “She and Astarion both got distracted with trying to chase a rat down there, and it fell to me to wrangle them into the bag!”

“There was also the Guild member we came across, who Astarion bit on the ankle before Jaheira could catch him, and I fell through a weak wall while chasing Devi and wound up in someone’s basement, so we had to run again while the homeowner was chasing us, and then there were the very angry githyanki loyalists who were coming after us for a spell, not to mention a couple more Fist soldiers when we accidentally came up through the wrong manholes…” Wyll trailed off as Gale glared at him. “... But, we made it back to camp safe and sound! And now if you’ll excuse me, I have a demon to summon so I can tell her off.”

Gale watched the younger man step away (probably making good his escape from the wizard’s wrath), then looked at the kitten in his hands and sighed. “What am I going to do with you, Devi?” he asked. “I suppose I should be grateful Wyll didn’t turn you into a mouse or a pigeon.”

The kitten meowed at him again; Gale shook his head, then drew the small animal up to his chest. Devi promptly used the opportunity to scale his robes with sharp little claws, earning winces from the wizard until she had reached his shoulder. She gave the wizard a headbutt, then meowed in his ear before curling up in a ball, precariously balanced on him. Gale sighed again, then watched as Jaheira handed a loudly-complaining Astarion-as-a-cat off to Shadowheart. “How long ago was that fight with the cultists, and the spell?” he asked.

Jaheira eyed the sun’s position in the sky contemplatively. “I would think about three hours ago?”

Gale froze. “... Polymorph spells don’t usually last longer than one hour!”

“I’m aware, Gale. I’m going with Wyll’s theory that his broken contract with Mizora is having an effect on his spells. We can be worried if they haven’t transformed back by the morning.” Jaheira shook her head and went back to examining the scratches in the leather of her gloves, left by tiny feline claws. “I should have something in my house about reversing a long-term-effect polymorph, but it will be a little difficult for me to get there with the Fist actively looking for us. I can try tomorrow, when the chase grows cold.”

Gale pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling his headache merrily pounding through his brain, then glanced over as he heard a noisy purr from his shoulder. “Oh, I’m glad you’re comfortable,” he dryly said to the kitten that had been his lover only that morning.

Devi mewed at him, then got back on her paws, carefully balancing on Gale’s shoulder as she started grooming his beard with a rough little tongue. Gale sighed, looking skyward. “Just how much of this are you going to remember when you eventually transform back?” he asked. “You did remember being a cheese. Then again, shapeshifters tend to adopt the instincts of whatever they have shifted into, and a cheese doesn’t really have any sort of an instinct…”

“Polymorphing is just strange,” Karlach said as she came up to Gale, eyeing Devi-the-cat, then looking over as Shadowheart tried to hand Astarion off to Lae’zel, who wanted nothing to do with the vampire cat. The tiefling was still grinning from ear to ear as she addressed Devi. “How about it? Are you gonna remember grooming your other half when we eventually get you back into a half-Elf?”

Devi meowed and went back to her task of grooming Gale’s beard.

Karlach laughed as Gale softly groaned. “It is kind of hilarious, Gale – and Devi makes a very cute kitten.” She glanced over at Lae’zel and Shadowheart. “Astarion would make a cute cat, if he wasn’t trying to scratch everyone’s eyes out,” she added, her voice raised enough to make herself pointedly clear.

Astarion just growled, loudly enough for Gale and Karlach to hear him ten paces away, even over the sounds of Wyll having a loud argument with Mizora by his tent. The white cat’s ire just got a snicker from Karlach before she reached to pet Devi’s back. “Y’know, from how you climb roofs so easily and how quiet you move, I always wondered if you were part cat, somewhere in your heritage.”

Gale blinked at the tiefling. “You think she has tabaxi heritage, besides the human and Elven blood?”

Karlach shrugged. “Maybe that, or one of her ancestors was a druid whose preferred wild form was a cat of some sort?”

“... It’s not the most unlikely idea I’ve ever heard,” Gale finally admitted. His eyes flicked down to the kitten on his shoulder. “Unfortunately, we’ll never know the truth of the matter–” He yelped as Devi batted at his earring, earning a snort from Karlach, then reached up for the cat. “All right, I have my boundaries, darling. The earring is off-limits, even for you.”

Devi meowed in protest as Gale brought her back down to his arms.

“No, I don’t care if you don’t like it,” Gale informed the kitten. “You are not allowed to play with my earring – it’s bad enough that I was tolerating you grooming me!” He sighed and gave Devi a rub behind her pointed ears, earning a purr. “All I need is for Tara to appear now and accuse me of replacing her with a younger, cuter feline companion.”

“She a jealous type of tressym?” Karlach asked with a laugh.

“Is there any other type?” Gale dryly asked, and got another snort from the tiefling. The wizard sighed and shook his head. “And I thought my headache this morning was terrible enough. I think it’s on its way to becoming a migraine.”

“Go rest in your tent – Devi might behave for you, since you’re her favourite person.” Karlach set her hands on Gale’s shoulders and gave him a gentle push to the tents. “I’ll help the others try to corral Astarion. Maybe if we put him on a leash…”

Gale paused, pursing his lips. “... My headache isn’t so bad that I can’t conjure up a leash for him,” he finally said. He pointedly ignored the feeling of Astarion’s feline glare on him as he waved his hand, and a leash appeared out of thin air. “Behold, my contribution to keeping Astarion from running off. And now, I’m going to go and take a nap.”

“Sweet dreams!” Karlach laughed as she collected the leash and made her way up to Shadowheart and Lae’zel, and the cat they were struggling to restrain. “You know, if you were less of an escape artist, we wouldn’t have to resort to these drastic measures, Astarion…”

Ruefully chuckling, Gale shook his head, then made his way back to his tent, depositing Devi on his bedroll before magically securing the tent flap, and any other avenue of escape the cat could make use of. “The longer you behave, the better your odds of not getting your own leash,” he informed the cat.

Devi meowed, then as Gale laid down, started grooming his hair.

Gale sighed. “I give up. You’re just going to groom me, no matter what I say, hmm?” He rested his head on the pillow, feeling as Devi licked his hair a few more times, then curled up beside his head and started purring. He reached up to give her pets, and felt the purring grow louder. “Thank you for choosing me as your favourite person, my love,” he chuckled, closing his eyes, letting himself drift off to sleep with his lover-as-a-cat beside him.

—

The evening mealtime did not see the two rogues returned to their biped forms. Gale poked at the fish on his plate, watching Devi, who was alternating her time between sitting at his side, waiting for another bite of his meal, and scampering around the campsite, never out of Gale’s field of vision. The wizard suspected she was intentionally flaunting her freedoms in front of Astarion, who was on the end of the leash secured under Lae’zel’s foot and making sure everyone knew he was not happy about it.

“It’s your own fault you’re on the leash, you know,” Wyll informed Astarion, munching on a roll. “If you hadn’t tried to climb up a building to escape…”

“I think putting all the fault on Astarion may not be warranted,” Gale muttered. “Contrary though he may be on the best of days.”

Wyll sighed. “It was an accident! And I said I was sorry for accidentally polymorphing both of them into cats!”

“And Gale will continue to be grouchy until the spell wears off and he has his woman back,” Karlach pointed out with a snicker. “Where is Devi, anyway?”

Gale looked around, then nodded with his head as Garmus the owlbear cub came lumbering up to the fire, Devi perched on his head like a proud knight. Scratch trotted beside the pair, tongue lolling out happily. “She probably won’t go far,” he said. “I’m here, and I have food – and I threatened her with her own leash if she didn’t behave.”

“Smart,” Jaheira said. “And coming from you, the cub – er, kitten – probably won’t push that argument too much.” She smirked. “Partially because she loves you, and partially because she knows you’ll follow through with it.”

A little smirk on his lips, Gale broke off a piece of hard cheese, then lowered his hand. “Psspsspssp,” he said, then sighed as Scratch scampered over first. “No, not you, Scratch.”

Scratch whined at Gale and set a heavy chin on his knee, looking up at him with big, soulful brown eyes.

Gale sighed again, then fed Scratch the cheese before breaking off another piece. “Devi!” he called. “Come here, before Scratch eats everything for you off of my plate.”

Devi meowed, then jumped off Garmus’ head and raced over to Gale, her tail standing straight up behind her. She leaped up onto the bench beside the wizard, then took the cheese from his fingers, happily eating it.

“That’s my girl,” Gale murmured approvingly, petting Devi’s back and hearing her purr. He handed her a piece of fish next, which she devoured. “Karlach was right, you know. You do make a cute kitten.”

With a mew, Devi finished her piece of fish, then climbed onto Gale’s lap.

“Although I’ll still be much happier when you’re a person again.” Gale ruefully chuckled, rubbing behind Devi’s ears as he lifted his plate safely out of range of both the cat and Scratch. “Veni et iuva me,” he muttered, and a Mage Hand appeared to rescue the plate, freeing both his hands to pet Devi. “Honestly, how do you and Astarion have such poor luck with being polymorphed? First the cheese, now the cats… in less than a tenday!”

“At least this time, neither of them is at risk of being eaten?” Shadowheart asked. She looked down at Astarion as he headbutted her leg. “You had your chance to get pets, and you tried to bite my hand. No pets for you.”

Astarion loudly meowed his protest.

Shadowheart sighed, then broke off another piece of her fish and fed it to the vampire cat. “I will say, we didn’t need to feed either of them when they were cheese.”

“Yes, but it's generally frowned upon to pet a wheel of cheese,” Wyll commented. “And they're cuter as cats than as food.”

“Technically,” Lae’zel pointed out, “they could be food if one was desperate enough…”

Gale frowned and tugged Devi a little closer to his chest. “Don't worry, my love,” he said to the cat. “I won't let anyone try to eat you.”

Devi purred, pushing her head into Gale's hands for more pets; the wizard obliged her willingly. “We appear to have gotten both extremes of cats; the snuggly cat who adores pets, and the standoffish cat who is a little too free with the claws,” he mused.

Astarion meowed at Gale, sounding more than a little put-out.

“Am I wrong?” Gale retorted. “Your own bad behaviour is why you're leashed now!”

Devi meowed, then jumped off Gale's lap and pounced on Astarion. The vampire cat irritably yowled and retaliated against Devi's attack, quickly getting tangled up in his leash.

Gale sighed, watching the two cats tussle. “... I really shouldn't just sit here and watch,” he said. “If I were a responsible sort of wizard, I would separate them.”

“But it would be hilarious if they transformed back right now,” Karlach pointed out with a grin. “Awww, Astarion is still bitey even as a cat!”

“Hopefully not for the same reason as his biting as a person,” Shadowheart said. She set down her plate, then took a deep breath and dove her hands into the fray, emerging with Devi held by the scruff of her neck. “Was picking a fight with Astarion really necessary?” she scolded.

Devi meowed, a definite note of annoyance in her tone, and waved her paws at Shadowheart's face.

“You can go attack Wyll's feet if you want to fight something,” Shadowheart said, standing up long enough to plop the cat back on Gale's lap. “Astarion, don't provoke Devi – she's almost as bitey as you.”

“Please don't attack my feet,” Wyll muttered. “For the hundredth time, I didn't mean to turn either of you into cats! I wasn't even aiming at you!”

“What did Mizora have to say?” Isobel curiously asked.

Wyll scowled. “She just laughed and said that she lives for the entertainment value I provide her. We can't count on her for assistance.”

Gale sighed, then tightened his hold on Devi when she tried to jump back at Astarion. “No, leave him alone!” he said, feeling his nagging headache pound at his skull again. “Deviali…”

Devi hissed at the mention of her despised full name.

“Oh, I'm so glad you understood that,” Gale said, lifting the cat to his eye level and sternly looking at her. “The leash is still a valid threat if you don't behave.”

The cat in his hands meowed, then started to purr.

“It's a very good thing you're cute,” Gale murmured, drawing the cat back to his chest. He winced as he felt Devi start climbing up his robes again; a second later, he felt a little paw batting at his earring. “Hey!” he scolded, pulling Devi away from his piercing again. “What did I say about the earring?”

Devi just stared at him and meowed.

“Touch the earring again, and I swear, I'll conjure up a second leash for you,” Gale threatened. He set Devi back on his lap, distracting her with another piece of fish while he kept a firm hand on her back, lest she try to climb up his body again. “What am I going to do with you if you don't transform back, love?”

“Present her to your tressym as tribute?” Lae’zel asked with a smirk.

“Very funny. Tara will not be amused.” Gale sighed, then frowned as he sensed the Weave crackling around him. “What–”

There were two flashes of light and a chorus of surprised exclamations. Gale jumped as he found himself rather abruptly with a lap full of Devi, laying on her stomach over his legs, his hand still on her ass. Astarion rematerialised by Lae’zel's feet, and promptly started clawing at the leash. “Get this thing off me!” he demanded. “Leashing is not my kink!”

“No? A pity.” Lae’zel smirked as she undid the leash, ignoring Karlach's laugh. “But I'm sure you do have other carnal enjoyments, yes?”

“Not after being leashed like an animal, I don't!” Astarion retorted, rubbing his neck and glaring at Gale.

“I hate to break it to you, but you were an animal a minute ago,” Gale pointed out. He looked down as Devi scrambled back up to a sitting position beside him. “Welcome back, darling. Are you all right?”

“I… think so?” Devi shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “My memory is… fuzzy.”

“As fuzzy as you were just now?” Wyll cheerfully asked.

Devi frowned at the warlock. “Excuse me, but I am not ‘fuzzy’!” She tilted her head as his grin got wider. “I feel like I should be mad at you for something. I remember being very small, and being picked up and handed around…”

“So you don't remember being a cat?” Jaheira asked. “Complete with scratching my hands up, and trying to make Wyll lose his other eye?”

“That was Astarion that had a go at my eye,” Wyll interjected, with a scowl at the vampire.

“A cat?” Devi blinked. “How the hells did I get turned into a cat?”

“Wyll happened. We're partially blaming Mizora.” Gale shook his head and wrapped an arm around Devi's shoulders. “You do make an adorable cat though… even if a bratty one.”

“... Thank you, I think?” Devi looked up at Gale, then leaned into his side, her eyes leaving his. Gale watched her for a moment, then saw her hand start to slowly rise to his ear, her eyes never leaving what they had focused on.

Instinct had him swat her hand back down just as her fingertips reached his earring. “Stop trying to play with my earring!” he scolded.

“I'm sorry! I just… feel compelled! It's so shiny!”

Gale sighed heavily as laughter echoed around them. “Your body might be a person again, but your mind is still that of a cat. Please don't pounce on Astarion again.”

“No promises,” Devi said. She looked around at everyone snickering (except Astarion, who had moved up from the ground to the bench and was trying to straighten his clothes, all while looking thoroughly miffed), then back at Gale, a moment before she put her legs across his lap and snuggled against him. “Don't mind me. I'm very cuddly tonight.”

Shaking his head, Gale slipped his arm down her back to hold her closer. “As long as you leave my earring alone and don't try to groom me again–”

“Wait. What do you mean, ‘groom’ you?” Devi demanded. “As in, with my tongue, and…” She saw Gale's smirk and slow nod, at the same time that Karlach fell off her bench laughing, and squeaked, burying her face in the wizard's shoulder to blush. “Oh, hells.”

“Didn't know you were into that!” Karlach laughed. “Or that Gale’s apparently into leashes–!”

“I am not into leashes!” Gale retorted. “It was strictly a means to keep our cats corralled!”

“Well, if we hear noises from Gale's tent tonight, we know what methods of carnal pleasure he and Devi are playing with,” Lae’zel said with a grin. “Is ‘kitten’ not a pet name used by some human lovers anyway?”

Gale groaned as laughter resurged around camp. He shot Wyll a glare. “This is entirely your fault.”

“I thought we agreed Mizora was to blame!” Wyll protested.

“It was still your spell!” Gale sighed and gave Devi a squeeze. “Love, as a personal kindness to me, please don't get polymorphed into anything else. The cheese and the cat have been quite enough.”

“Again – no promises. Technically this wasn't my fault… I don't think.” Devi winked, then leaned against his shoulder and made a little noise of frustration. When Gale looked closely, she was peering at his earring again, seemingly fighting the urge to play with the jewellery.

“Don't even think about it,” the wizard warned. “Or I swear, I will tie you up–” He glared at Lae’zel and Karlach as they burst into laughter. “Not that way, either!”

“... Promises, promises,” Devi said with a grin that promised misbehaviour later.

Gale sighed again, looking skyward. How was this his life now?

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

AB, Mogwix and Co.

This was a piece of art did by one of the other amazing players at my D&D table for The Wild Beyond the Witchlight campaign and I love it! The robot with the hat is my PC, Environmental Analysis Automaton A-B4 or AB for short. They're a Circle of the Shepherd Druid trying to find their creator who went missing at the Witchlight Carnival under mysterious circumstances.

The other member of our party include Buttercup, the minotaur college of lore bard, Pan, the half elf college of eloquence bard/fey pact warlock, Mogwix, the goblin wizard, and Goramorn, the dragonborn way of the dragon monk.

I've been playing them for a while now and thought I'd share some of what I wrote about their creation.

Also, after this campaign wraps up we'll be starting a Curse of Strahd campaign which we will be streaming on twitch! Let me know if any of you are interested in watching or at the very least would like to hear about my PC for that campaign.

Memory Banks: 00.00.00.00.001

Visual data: 

Environment: enclosed, wood interior, man made 

Danger rating: Yellow; tripping and magical hazards  

Lifeforms: 1 Humanoid, Designation: Human Male

Audio data:

Human Male:

…there was light. Ah! Yes! Third time’s the charm, or eleventh in this case. 

 Alright Environmental Analysis Automotom Prototype A-B4, let’s see if you’re the one. Oh, that really is mouthful isn’t it? We’ll have to come up with something different. Of course, if all goes well you’ll be able to do that yourself some day, eh?

Why anyone would want to scrap you is beyond me. Well you know what they say, man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

 Oh, well…I suppose I shouldn’t say that. Readings look like you’re picking up everything audio and visual. Excellent. Was a bit worried about your memory banks. Obviously for an analysis unit all you’d really be worried about are the plants and the like pertaining to your programming. Admittedly it was a spotty job. But the storage is just about perfect. Probably will need to work on expanding it. Wouldn’t want you to have to erase memories to keep new ones. 

Oh well, details to be sorted later. Made a bit of a mess myself. 

Welcome to the world A-B4. I’ve got a feeling you’re going to be spectacular. 

Analysis:

Environment: Moderately hazardous

Humanoid: Mostly harmless

Memory Banks: 00.00.00.00.102

New Program: Designation: Speech 

Audio Data: 

Julian:

Sorry AB. Seems as though I might have crossed the wrong wires. Your visual input is temporarily down, but let’s test out this new feature. 

Oh there have been so many things I’ve been wanting to ask you. Your vocabulary should be up to snuff. I took special care in your speech pattern recognition. Best way to learn is through doing, after all. Doing in this case having been listening to my rambling for the last few months. Hopefully it did us both some good. 

I think it did. It’s how children learn at any rate. 

Alright, first question: what is your name? 

Searching…

Statement: Designation: Environmental Analysis Automotom Prototype A-B4

Julian:

No, not your designation. What is your name?

Statement: Request unclear. Specify. 

Julian:

What do you want to be called? 

Statement: Request unclear. Specify. 

Julian:

Well, I do suppose it’s still a bit early for you to have proper wants now isn’t it? Still got a lot of programming to get through. We’ll save your name for later. Hopefully you won’t resent me calling you AB in the future. 

I hate to ask what your thoughts on me now are.

Statement: Answer. Analysis of Human Male, Designation: Julian. Wizard. Middle Age. Diet: Tea. Sleep pattern: Inconsistent. Communication: Heavily Verbal. Danger level: Yellow. 

Julian: 

Now that’s a shining endorsement, I must say. 

Statement: Understood. Analysis confirmed. 

Julian:

Alright, next on the list, fine tune your audio input to recognize irony. 

And I’m hardly middle aged. I don’t plan to die at seventy. Well, seventy-two if you’re getting technical, but I’m nowhere near the top of the hill let alone going down it. 

Statement: Understood. 

Julian:

Let’s just get your eyes working properly again. 

Memory Bank: 00.00.00.200

New Visual Data: Still Image: Tiefling Female. Expression: Unknown. 

Audio Data:

Julian:

Happy. See the smile? She’s happy. 

Facial Expression: Happy. 

Statement: Understood. Smile means happy. 

Julian:

Alright. Now let’s go back to this one. 

New Visual Data: Still Image: Dragonborn Male. Expression: Happy. 

Julian:

Understandable confusion. See how his brow creases. That’s anger. 

Question: Showing teeth indicates happiness and anger?

Julian:

I’d say it’s usually either or, but yes. The subtleties are in the eyes. Mouths may lie, but the eyes always tell the truth. We’ll get more into the nuances once you get the basics down. 

Question: What is lie?

Julian:

Deception. It’s when a person says one thing but means another. 

Question: Like irony? 

Julian:

Ah no…well, sort of. It comes down to intent really. It’s when somebody makes a false statement and indends for another to believe them. 

Question: Why lie? 

Julian: 

Any number of reasons. Some people lie in order to trick somebody into doing something they want. Other times people lie in order to comfort another. 

Statement: Definition unclear. 

Julian:

Fair enough. I think this is just something you’ll have to wait to figure out when you’re older. 

Statement: Understood. Question will remain unanswered. 

Memory Bank: 00.00.01.002

Julian:

I do hope you don’t find these memories too boring once you properly wake up. I mean, most days are boring, but from what I understand you’ll be able to remember everything that’s ever happened to you, this included. 

I can only imagine what you’ll think of me. Try to be charitable. I’d argue no parent in the world has put this much effort into the actual creation process. 

Oh Gods, me a father? That doesn’t sound right. I’m not old enough– Well, I am plenty old enough, but I never saw myself as the fatherly type. 

Forget I said anything. Or, no, don’t forget. That’s not an order. Just an expression.

I’m really not giving you much of a leg up if I’m your example am I?  We’re going to have to make sure you get out more.

Memory Bank: 00.00.01.095

Visual Data:

Environment: Lab

Danger Rating: Yellow, tripping and magical hazards

Lifeforms: 1 Humanoid, Designation: Elf Male

Facial Expression: Surprised, subcategory: Unknown

Audio Data:

Unknown Elf: 

What in the nine hells? 

New Visual Data:

Lifeform: 1 Humanoid, Designation: Julian

Facial Expression: Surprised, subcategory: Put-out

Julian:

What are you doing back here?

Elf Male:

I should be asking you the same thing. You’re not seriously considering this. 

New Visual Data:

New Facial Expression: Elf Male

Facial Expression: Angry, subcategory: Very

Julian:

There is a reason why I keep my work private. 

Elf Male:

It’s one thing to work with automatons, maybe dabble in trying to awaken one for a period of time, but this? Do you realize what magic you’re tampering with?

Julian:

What I’m doing is just taking the awaken spell and to its most logical conclusion. Where exactly am I going too far? 

Elf Male:

To create a sentient creature they require a soul. You think you can just create a soul out of whole cloth?

Julian:

Last I checked quite a number of creatures create new souls every day, oftentimes by accident. 

Elf Male:

You know what I mean. Those are living, breathing, biological beings touched by the divine. This is a machine. Whatever programs or even magic you put into it, all it will ever be able to do is pantomime mortal emotions. It will forever be soulless unless you give it one or somehow deluded yourself into thinking you could create one. 

Julian:

I am making no claims to my personal ability to isolate the soul. My only claim is that something doesn’t require biological parts to have one. 

AB has no baseline instincts, not even survival. They were initially programmed for cold, calculated analysis of raw environmental data. All I’m doing is attempting to give them the ability to ask why and the choice to find the answer. 

Curiosity, in its purest form. That’s where it all starts. I give them the baseline ability to recognize emotions in others and the rest writes itself. How they decide to react will ultimately be up to them as they grow to understand and empathize with the world around them. Now look me in the eye and tell me that’s not any child you’ve ever met in your life. 

Elf Male: 

All without a soul to guide them. 

Julian:

You really haven’t met many children, have you?

Elf Male:

This isn’t a joke, Julian. Gods, do you not hear yourself?

Julian:

What exactly am I doing wrong? I’m not hurting anyone. No bodies are being exhumed. No souls have been stolen. No deals have been struck. All I am doing is what every wizard has done which is explore the full extent of our reality. 

Now either you’re right and what I end up making will merely pantomime mortals. Or I’m right, and I will have proven that souls are not given to us by some divine entity. What we call a soul is created within ourselves for each other. No gods required. 

Elf Male:

I can only hope I’m right.

Julian:

And I can only feel sorry for you. 

Visual Data:

Elf Male: Out of range

Analysis:

Elf Male: Potentially harmful

New Visual Data:

Lifeform: Julian

Facial expression: Sad, subcategory: unknown

Question: Are you sad?

Julian:

Not sad, AB. Disappointed perhaps.

Statement: Understood. Expression is disappointment.

Question: What is disappointment?

Julian:

It’s when you hoped something would be different from what it actually is. 

I wish I could tell you people like him are a minority. I wish I could say that others will see you and fully accept you as the person you will become. 

Some of them will. I think most people will want to. It’s hard to say. There is a great deal of ignorance and fear in the world, and a lot of people are content to leave it that way. 

Do try to be patient with us though. We’re only mortal. 

Statement: Request unclear. Specify. 

Julian:

I guess what I mean to say is, go into the world assuming people want to be kind.

Statement: Understood.

Question: And this can cause disappointment? 

Julian:

More often than not, but you’ve got to do it anyway. 

Statement: Understood. 

Memory Bank: 00.00.00.01.269

Audio Data:

Julian: 

I really do hate to admit it AB, but perhaps Dustain was right. Arcane magic will only get us so far. You’ve progressed nicely, but something is missing. Just that last little umph. 

Don’t worry, I’m not about to ask a god for help. Bastards would just rub in our faces. 

The awaken spell is the baseline of all of this. Perhaps that’s the best place to start. The magic innate in nature is separate from the divine. You’re not so different. Metal is merely refined elements found in nature. Just because you’re man made shouldn’t exclude you. 

Hmm, perhaps I shouldn’t have wiped all that analysis programming. 

Memory Bank: 00.00.00.02.154

Julian:

Now this is silly, isn’t it. I’m not even sure if this is going to work. But, I think I’ve got a lead on something that might finally wake you up. Not sure when I’ll be coming back, if I will. Of course, if I don’t come back, you’ll hardly care, now, will you? But, you might care, someday. Depends if this works. Memories are funny like that. They change the more you remember them. That was the point of all my ramblings anyway. 

What am I trying to say here? Wish me luck? Wish us luck? 

I can’t wait to meet you.

[umbracirrus]

WIP Whenever~

I'm not going to lie, I'm surprised I had something to post! I got a stroke of writing inspiration for the next chapter of The Perfect Storm when I was meant to be writing an assignment for university, and found some time during my lunch and after I got home from work to get some words written down... I can't wait for all these assignments to be over and done with, my brain is otherwise completely frazzled beyond the thoughts 'play Skyrim'. 😮‍💨

Tagged by both @thequeenofthewinter and @throughtrialbyfire 💛

In addition to the war, winter was beginning to encroach upon Whiterun hold, threatening to pull the otherwise temperate lands into the same frosty tendrils which covered much of the province.

Elyse was not a fan.

The slightest wisps of warm air escaped the Dragonborn’s lips as she grumbled under her breath about the cold, her chin tucked into her scarf and a cloak tightly wrapped around her body. She was regretting her decision to leave Dragonsreach already, and in the back of her mind, she was starting to toy with the idea of calling Odahviing to either take herself and Lydia either back to the Jarl’s palace, or to just outside Riverwood where she could at least rest at the Sleeping Giant Inn.

All she had wanted was a day away from Dragonsreach. It was lovely there, and she was so thankful for Balgruuf allowing her to stay there... But it was always so hectic during the day. She had thought that a day at somewhere quieter, such as Riverwood, given its vicinity to the city, would be nice. Besides, it had been a long while since she had last spoken to Alvor, Gerdur, and their families.

"Now, what is it you like to tell people... Ah. That’s it – 'I'm not just a Breton, my mother was a Nord too-'" Lydia had started laughing, at least until she received an irritated kick in the shin. "I’m just saying, it’s not very Nord-like to complain about the cold."

Elyse let out a quiet ‘hmph’ as she continued on. She wasn’t really wanting to have to explain that her annoyance had come about because of that disaster of a visit to Windhelm. She didn't actually mind feeling cold, it was more that her body seemed to react a lot worse to the chill itself than it usually would. What had happened then was the only thing which she could reasonably put down to being the cause.

A particularly frigid breeze picked up at that point, and even more annoying to her was that they were walking into it, and signs of the first snowfall of the season were beginning to show as small flakes of snow kept getting brushed into her face.

"Pest! Get out of my meadery!"

"What in the-?" Elyse suddenly stopped in her tracks at a loud yell, quickly holding out her arm to get Lydia to stop. Much to the surprise of them both, they then caught sight of a skeever scampering past them, coming from the direction of the Honningbrew Meadery. At the doorway was a tired and irritated-looking Sabjorn holding a broom. He then caught sight of the two of them, and his face paled.

For a few moments, all three of them stood still, at least until the broom clattered onto the ground as he approached them.

"Please don’t close the meadery," he suddenly begged, grabbing hold of Elyse’s arm with a grasp which was far too tight and made her wince. It was only when Lydia cleared her throat in irritation that he loosened his hold – but only slightly. "Don’t tell the Jarl that I haven’t been able to handle the skeevers! This meadery is my lifeline, and-"

Both Elyse and Lydia exchanged a confused look, feeling as though there was something that they weren’t being told. "What has you thinking that we would tell the Jarl?" Lydia questioned, asking what had been on both of their minds in the hopes that it would let them know.

Eyes widening in surprise, he looked between the two of them before he visibly cleared his throat. "You mean that you aren’t the people that the Jarl was sending? But aren’t you the Jarl’s..." He looked as though he didn’t want to finish his sentence as he finally let go of Elyse.

A frown settled on Elyse’s face. "Thane?"

"Th-Thane...? Yes, yes, uh... Thane... that was the word I was looking for..."

[starryvoice]

Hello again I am posting again here, this is time I might be posting this in advance as man I rather not do what I did with mass posting stuff in this blog myself.

So I want to talk about D&D again, yes we are going back to X again. This is the second to the last character that I have in that world before my own journeys on being another DM in another servers other than mine and these ones are still on going to this day as I think I am playing around 2-3 characters in two servers now, but the story for each 3 characters that I playing in those two servers are still on hold with comes to character story plots as I am a bit in and out of playing as player and I been mostly in the DM seat at the moment with just writing lore and readying for sessions for another set of new players. Oh you might be asking why I am playing 3 characters in 2 servers. Well I am playing in one server two characters for two different DMs and other one is another west march so yeah.

Rabi March

He is a Purple Gem Dragonborn that is originally a Stars Druid but changed to Ancients Paladin 6/The Fathomless Warlock 11 only. This is the best friend that I was talking about in my last post in D&D. The best friend that lost to another lover of Shino and now just wandering around X to find something about the place where Shino stayed. He has a familiar named Molly who became his daughter cause of my flavor of Molly as she is a Water Sprite based on Rabi's Warlock Goddess of the water theme, Rabi did worship two gods/goddesses for this as I did want Rabi to worship two gods/goddess for his oath and warlock, this point I don't know that Oaths wasn't based on a god. So I should have made him a cleric if I really wanted to do two gods thing, but everyone in that server rolled with it.

So what is Rabi's journey to this "peaceful" X. Well let me say that it is not really become peaceful after the fight of UD with Shino in fact there are things that were something brewing behind the scenes that all the DMs were planning for that season of X. (Oh yeah I forgot to tell you, guys that we ran by seasons in the server, I came in the server when it is was on its 3rd season, so this point was the 4th season of X). Let's just say that there were a lot of lore for the dragons and Rabi was involved with it as Gem Dragons are a rare thing in X and there are a lot of character plot that was rolling around this season since the DMs are either getting on dramas or on break for the most of it. We have called that season the Couple Season since there were only mostly these 4 or 5 characters that getting the spot light man, but there is these couples that was getting the most spot light than the other characters. I guess my character got pushed to the next season honestly since I did got in the DM side and man, I am very sad to hear that Rabi's dragon lore stuff are in that other season and I am playing another character by then.

In which was his step-sister that is a Red Kobold. I will be telling that side of the story in the next post and what happened to that west march in lighter terms cause you have guess on why I did say second to the last character.

So what happened to Rabi after all of that shit, well he did find his dream demon boyfriend (Yes he was gay, but it is because all the characters that I play are Pansexual at best, so technically he is pansexual) But yes I will back on a little on that on why Rabi has a demon for a boyfriend? and oh I forgot he got another daughter! in his fight around another gem dragon for parts for a sword upgrade (Stirring Dragon's Wrath Rapier) this daughter of his was in inside of the gem that was connected to the Rapier, so yeah he has two daughters. So back to the Demon Boyfriend, this is actually my session to finally end Rabi's journey (Yes I DMed this), it was a mess in a half since that session was half-planned in my part and the character mechanically can't go to sleep or dream for that matter. So I tried ways to make them go to Rabi's head to see what's up with him. The Funny thing in this session is that Rabi just really want to stay for the dicking.

YES I KNOW THIS IS MY CHARACTER, but I want some kind of chaos with him, throughout his journey in X, he didn't got to show who he really is, he is only known as this lovable father to two little daughters, but come on can't he have someone to have around when the daughters are away? He never planned to have daughters first before he got someone get some dicking down, this poor man is a virgin that he want to wait to tell his feelings to this best friend he has, but man he was too late. So you know I can't left him with other partner that would love him. Yes it is weird that a demon is your boyfriend, but I made this demon a bit different than your typical demon, so they both are loving couple that want to stay with each other, but when that other plot that I was telling you that the other DM has planned as messed up this demon, so he can't out with Rabi in his head.

Man I know this really weird but that's what happened on that session man, at least everyone is safe and happy for now. With the plans of finding ways for the Demon and Rabi together and live a happy life.

Trust me I didn't did the same mistake as that now. At that time I was pretty beginner with DMing, and I mostly plan things out and really have layouts and storyboarding the plot of the sessions. Again I was really dumb and it was half-baked plot.

[charcherry-weekly]

Charcherry Weekly - Issue 160

Hey everyone, Mage of Light Nick Card here. Its been a hot week but also a much needed break from the absolute jam packed action from last week.

The Contract has been Sealed

Near the beginning of the week, Brae Emit managed to get a contract hashed out with a fae lawyer to figure out the exact terms of Dark Soul Tercet's stepping aside from controlling Rogue of Heart Charles. In short, it was concluded that Tercet will stay out of the way in most occasions, as long as Page of Darkness Dylan is handled before April 13th, 2029. That gives us six years. Seeing as we've already spent at least three years putting up with his brand of bullshit, I have a feeling those years might wind up going faster than expected. Regardless, this mostly gives us a solid timeline to work on. Meanwhile, Tercet will remain on standby.

The next day, Charles was freed from holding and immediately ran off to Gene's Garden to feast on all the filling fast foods they'd been missing.

Shoreport Shenanigans

A few days ago, the odd squad arrived in the lakeside port town of Shoreport. Their current mission being to locate a boat that was lost in a questionable poker game. According to a trusted source of information, the previous owner often had widely swinging fortune, which lead them to buy the boat with a recent windfall, only to lose it soon after in the course of gambling. The current owner of the boat is reportedly a card slinging dragonborn by the name of Walcprahs. The current informant, a tabaxi bard called Dappled Sunspots, has offered to join the odd squad and assist them in winning that boat from Walcprahs for potential use later. The party took a vote and there was enough agreement to let him join. Chaotic Druid Lohannid managed to reveal that they had introduced the horses to homestuck, and inadvertently, they all somehow adopted trollsonas. This claim cannot be confirmed however, as the photo in question shows more horses than the party currently has. Meanwhile, Enker has been testing the limits of a cheap modus captchalogue card, trying to see how it compares and contrasts with a more traditional bag of holding.

A Tale of Two HAZELs

Pokemon breeder HAZEL is currently in the dark timeline version of the Johto region, and is regularly being shunted back and forth through time by Celebi to prevent the various tragedies that had befallen the region. As of writing, she has managed to collect enough gym badges to take on Gym Leader Pryce, and has successfully thwarted team rocket's plans at the lake of rage. She seems to be moving remarkably fast through her forced newgame+ campaign.

Meanwhile, fully recovered, Charles attempted to follow HAZEL to dark timeline Johto, only to end up in the Pinto region instead. As a result, communication was resumed with your previous newsletter writer, my pre-retcon self, and their version of HAZEL. Charles managed to meet up with them in Crossroad City and witnessed a rather unremarkable battle between HAZEL and Top Skater Ricardo. She easily defeated his team with LUKE the lucario alone. Charles plans on sticking with Nick and HAZEL for up to a week to keep them more synchronized than usual.

This week’s known market stands in Desertia Town:

Katie’s potion stand (*CaFAI filling in for Katie when unavailable)

shinyjiggly pokesnacks stand (ran by Rufus)

Chawishe fish stand...?

That should do it for this week. There has been steady progress on the flash animation for left beef, though it remains to have a lot of work ahead on it. For now though, I need sleep. Goodnight! https://letssosl.boards.net/thread/394/charcherry-weekly-issue-160

[bloodsoakedurge-a]

Balasar imagined someone eventually would have noticed all the times he had gone off and had sat by himself in the middle of the night. He didn't exactly think he had been the most stealth in that regard and he figured it was only a matter of time before one of his companions came asking him about why he stayed up so late at night and everything. What he hadn't expected was for it to come from Liliya, of all people.

Maybe that was because the Dragonborn thought someone else was going to be the first to ask, maybe it was because he didn't think she had actually noticed his late-night lack of sleep... Whatever the case may have been, he was a bit surprised to see her coming to sit next to him one of those nights. At the same time, he figured it wasn't the worst person to come and talk to him or anything, so... after all, he figured it was probably better than nothing for someone to come ask what was up.

At the same time though, he couldn't help but wonder what was keeping her up as well. He knew he wasn't the only one in the party that was, seemingly, kept awake by whatever and he imagined that a lot of the people around him had some things to worry about as well, especially regarding the tadpole, which wasn't exactly the best thing for a lot of them to have shoved into their heads. But, Balasar had both a tadpole and an Urge problem and he knew the two of those things interacting spelled only bad news and he had the faintest thought that one day something bad would come from it in some way, shape, or form.

At the end of the day though, at least he had someone to share the time with and he didn't have to be lonely all the time.

❝I would have hoped it wasn't me who was the issue. I would have hated to learn that the reason I was keeping others up when they didn't need to,❞ he chuckled and looked her way, ❝But I will say I found it a bit unusual that someone would be dealing with the... lack of sleep issues that I've had recently.❞

Again though, it didn't seem like it was too far out there and it didn't seem like it was an issue that was entirely too far-fetched. Perhaps it was just Balasar thinking about it all wrong and not entirely understanding why someone else had to be up beside him...

He turns his heard to look back on the water and he gives a small grumble after a few moments and shakes his head. Not as a way to try an dismiss her or anything, but because he knew she was right. He couldn't hold back the secret he had been hiding forever, after all. That sort of information had to come out of him eventually. And why not get some of those issues off his chest?

❝I'll admit, my first thought was to tell you I was fine as well, to keep trying to brush off my past and a secret I've been holding on to,❞ he whispered, ❝But... I've been afflicted, to say. I've had the... urge to harm others, to kill others recently/ I'm sure you've seen that look in my eye and I can't exactly help it. Something about my past is drawing me to try and do such a thing... And I'm not sure how to stop it.❞

  Balasar was an interesting one to her, if she was honest. She didn't know many Dragonborn, but it seems this one wasn't much of a fan of sleeping. ❛No rest for the wicked❜, she'd said, only meaning to be playful, but really it was aimed at herself. She couldn't sleep, the darkness under her eyes and the state her hair was in showed that clearly, green strands sticking up all over the place from the amount of tossing and turning.

  The tadpole was the main problem, but her dreams were plagued with everything that had happened and things that were yet to do so. Something that often happened with her, but she didn't really like to share the details. Some nights she stayed up sketching Astarion ( he didn't really remember what he looked like so she was trying to do that during their camp time ), trying to get to the bottom of Shadowheart's and Gale's problem, as well as Karlach's and Wyll's, Lae'zel's too. She had one of those bleeding hearts, wanting to help everyone else before looking out for herself.

  So when she saw Balasar sitting here by himself, Liliya took the opportunity. Why spend the sleepless night being lonely, right?

  ❝It's nothing, really.❞ She tries to wave off, taking a seat beside him to see the fascination of the waves for herself. The moon's light glistening on the water's surface did make it all the prettier, so she could understand some of the appeal. The druid stretched out her legs, heels digging into the dirt as her arms stretched up as if she'd just woken up from sleeping— how far from the truth that was. ❝Definitely not you, I can promise that.❞ she muses with a small smile and a shake of her head, eyes looking back out toward the glistening waves, ❝I was going to ask you the same question. I see you out here some nights when I can't sleep; in the same spot, too. I won't pry, but if it helps, I'm here to listen.❞ She offers with a shrug of her shoulders. With the amount she does see him out here, something must be plaguing his thoughts and dreams, not just this parasite.

[argisthebulwark]

There is a lot of brynjolf stuff here, and believe me I’m not complaining, but would it be possible to get some Teldryn stuff? Doesn’t have to be smutty but, y’know.

thank you i know this was sent like weeks ago i’m sorry i’m working my way through the inbox. i uhhh love teldryn sero so much and i don’t talk about him enough tbh.

no content warnings it’s just way too long to post without a cut. 

The wind was slow, heavy with the heat of the day. The sun crept below the horizon and the Dragonborn gazed up at the stars beginning to peak through Solstheim’s oppressive cloud cover. They twinkled here and there, their light struggling behind the ash. 

“Nice night.” Teldryn commented, his boot knocking into the Dragonborn’s. Her face heated behind the scarf and she kept her gaze aimed at the sky. Her companion shifted beside her, the blanket they shared to keep sand out of the armor tugging with each of his movements. 

The Dragonborn struggled to keep her mind off of him. She longed to turn to her left and kiss him, to be kissed by Teldryn until nothing existed other than him. She wanted to feel his hands on her, to know if his kiss was as wicked and perfect as his smile. She couldn’t bring herself to do anything or make her feelings clear. He’d been far closer to his former patron and it had ended badly. She had no idea of she would survive the ordeal with Miraak and had no intentions of leaving behind anyone to mourn her. 

“Too bad you’re leaving tomorrow.” He continued and she felt his eyes on her. She stared upward, adjusting the arm under her head. “If you stay all of our nights can be like this.”

“I’m sure your next patron will look at the stars with you.” She mumbled into her scarf. It tasted bitter like ale and ash but hid the telltale flush in her cheeks. Teldryn was no fool, he would realize her feelings for him. “If you ask nicely.”

“Next patron?” His laugh was thick with sarcasm. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Why?” The Dragonborn finally chanced a look over at him. Teldryn’s eyes were still shut in his laughter, the smile on his face more genuine than she’d seen in quite some time. She watched Teldryn turn to face her, his smile diminishing while he sucked in a deep breath. 

“I enjoy our travels together.” He spoke softly as if admitting something personal. The Dragonborn wasn’t sure how to respond, her mouth opening uselessly behind the scarf. “I like being with you, outlander.”

“I like being with you too.” The silence was heavy with words she desperately wanted to say.

“Why are you returning to Skyrim?” He’d never looked at her so intensely. It felt like he was trying to read her mind before she even spoke. 

“I need to visit the Greybeards.” She cleared her throat, turning to stare at the spots between the trees where the sun had been. The sky was a deep red and the shadows were growing longer but the sand under their makeshift bed remained warm. “I need their help to defeat Miraak.” 

“Ah.” He didn’t sound satisfied with the answer. 

Evening soon turned into night and the Dragonborn uncorked her last bottle of wine. The two elves shared the bottle and exchanged comments on the weather, the fights they’d shared, the days spent dragging themselves through sandstorms and over Solstheim’s frigid mountains.  The Dragonborn found herself yawning during Teldryn’s story about St Jiub and closed her eyes, promising herself to just rest a few moments. 

Daylight broke over Solstheim bright and early. The Dragonborn stirred, groaning when she stretched achy limbs. Her armor wasn’t exactly suitable sleeping gear but she would soon board a ship aimed for Windhelm and planned to nap through the entire venture. 

“Morning.” 

The Dragonborn’s voice was thick with sleep and Teldryn’s muffled grunt was his only response. She felt him stirring close beside her, his leg brushing hers when he moved. She laid there for a moment and savored the chill of early morning, her body still warm from the armor. 

Teldryn’s arm tightened around the Dragonborn’s waist and her heart leapt. He shifted again and drew her into his chest. She allowed Teldryn’s nose to skim along her throat and into her hair, a deep sigh sending his breath skittering over her sensitive ear. 

Teldryn’s breath was warm on her skin, his fingers grasping the front of her armor and his body pressed to hers. The Dragonborn stayed still while he snored into the shoulder of her armor, totally asleep again. 

She remained there for a while. The sun rose in the sky and Teldryn rolled in his sleep, still snoring while the Dragonborn carefully began tucking items back into her pack. She caught herself staring at him more than once - she’d never seen Teldryn so relaxed. Even during their quiet treks across the island or nights spent swapping stories he was alert, guarded. 

When the Dragonborn shook Teldryn awake he only glared at her for a moment before helping to pack the rest of their campsite. He joked that he would get bored when she left for Skyrim but she couldn’t form a proper response. She wanted to stay with him, to explore every inch of Solstheim and hear all of his stories, to learn to live among the elves. But she couldn’t make herself say any of it. 

The walk back to Raven Rock was tense. Teldryn offered his hand when she clambered down the steep, rocky steps from the old barrow near the bulwark and the Dragonborn was surprised he didn’t let go. The two elves walked hand in hand into Raven Rock, his expression unreadable behind the goggles. 

The Dragonborn heard the docks before she saw them, shouted orders from the captain and the splashing rhythm of waves against the shore. She paused when Teldryn turned to her. She’d imagined saying goodbye to him dozens of times but nothing felt like enough. 

“I’d be happy to rejoin you free of charge.” He offered, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles. “If you’re interested.”

“Good. I can’t afford you.” She heard his dry laugh behind the helmet and felt her heart wrenching. “I’m going to miss you.” 

“Are you certain you have to go?” The Dragonborn nodded and wished she could see Teldryn’s face. She’d grown accustomed to his helmet remaining in his pack during their time together and missed seeing his eyes. ���Fine, go on... Leave me here. When you decide to return to your senses, you know where to find me."

Teldryn dropped the Dragonborn’s hand when she turned to the docks. She kept her steps quick, moving away from Teldryn. She needed to get off Solstheim before she caved to the desire to stay with him. She didn’t dare turn back, to see if Teldryn stayed to watch her leave or if he’d returned to the Retching Netch. She wasn’t sure which was worse. 

“Ready to head back?” Gjalund greeted the Dragonborn enthusiastically. He always seemed in a better mood when leaving Raven Rock. She nodded, boarding the boat and lowering her pack. 

“Can you tell me where my cot is?”

“Down the stairs. Third on the left.”

Gjalund left the Dragonborn to continue shouting orders at his miniscule crew. She stood on the deck and squinted at the horizon, picturing Windhelm’s chilly shores. Only a day or two before she was back in the frozen lands of Skyrim. The sun beat down on her face as if saying farewell. 

The lower levels of the ship were still damp and cool, hidden from the heat of late morning. The Dragonborn tossed her pack onto the cot and swayed with the motions of the ship. There weren’t many other passengers but she heard the footsteps of the crewmates stomping overhead. She unwound the scarf from her face and sucked in a few deep breaths. Almost home. 

“Who are you?” 

“Got room for one more?”

The Dragonborn’s heart leapt at that scratchy voice. It couldn’t be him. She scrambled up the stairs, smacking her knee against the doorframe but the pain meant nothing. She burst onto the deck once more to find Teldryn handing over most of the coin she’d paid him, a sly smile on his face when he spotted her. 

“Cots are below deck.” Gjalund mentioned before backing away. He eyed them for a moment as he turned back to the helm. 

The Dragonborn stayed rooted in place and stared at Teldryn. He shifted the pack on his shoulder, his helmet tucked under one arm when he returned her stare. His smile was entertained, almost mocking. 

“You don’t have to come.” She breathed, uncertain he’d heard her over the crashing waves. “I know you hate Windhelm. I wouldn’t put you through that.”

Teldryn strode across the ship, helmet clattering to the deck beside his pack when he closed in on her. The Dragonborn gasped when he grasped her face, dragging her into a kiss she’d wanted for weeks. 

She grabbed at his armor, her back pressed into the cabin of the Northern Maiden. His lips were warm and insistent against hers and the Dragonborn let go of her restraint. She kissed Teldryn until she couldn’t breathe, until it felt like every moment spent gazing longingly at him disappeared from her mind. 

“What are you doing?” She panted and Teldryn kissed her again. She felt the smile in his kiss and yearned for so much more of him. 

“I've spent enough time on Solstheim to last a lifetime.”

“But what about Windhelm and the Grey Quarter? What about -”

“I’m with you, sera. Lead on.” 

[its-sixxers]

A Night to Remember, I

A night drinking at the New Gnisis Cornerclub leaves Tandreth awaking somewhere far away, raising questions not only about his newfound predicament, but his feelings toward his traveling companion.

(Writing prompt given by @radbeetle and @ineed-to-sleep, based on the quest of the same name. Gonna be a multi parter as I get a chance to write. :3)

Tandreth woke to the sound of rushing water. 

It was enough to get his eyes to snap open. There was no rushing water in Windhelm, and Windhelm was where he last remembered being conscious. Opening his eyes too quickly fast proved to be a mistake, however, for the sun was in precisely the right position in the sky to nearly blind him. 

“Fetcher.” he swore, throwing his arm over his eyes and feeling a headache fast approaching. He was hungover - but he wasn’t bound. That was good. He’d woken up worse from nights of heavy drinking (so much worse he didn’t want to remember). The next time he opened his eyes he barely cracked them open, squinting out at the world around him.

To his disbelief, he was in Markarth. 

Markarth was across Skyrim from Windhelm.

Tandreth dragged himself upright, his body sore from sleeping on stone. He’d passed out in one of Markarth’s many alleyways, and by some miracle hadn’t been robbed or worse. A small waterfall cascaded down the rocks next to him, spraying mist onto his face now that he sat upright.

What had happened?

The last thing he could recall was drinking in the New Gnisis Cornerclub - he was short on coin, so when a stranger offered an enchanted staff as the wager to a friendly drinking contest he was all too happy to oblige. The man wanted no wager from Tandreth besides Idunn’s participation, and -

“Idunn.” Tandreth choked out, scrambling to his feet. Idunn was nowhere to be seen, and dread pooled in his gut - doing no favors for his nausea. The world moved beneath him like the deck of a ship in stormy seas, and he nearly stumbled off the stone path and down the cliff beside him. Markarth was a bad place to be in any state of inebriation, and Tandreth was beginning to wonder if he wasn’t still a little bit drunk.

He stumbled down the path, unsure of where to even go - he made it six steps before he was forced to bend over and vomit, aiming for a hardy patch of bush next to the path.

“Ugh.” Came a female voice from nearby, and after wiping his mouth Tandreth looked up to see a young priestess of Dibella emptying a pot of dirty water over the path’s edge. When her eyes settled on his face an expression of sudden nervousness crossed over her features, and she started to hurry back up the steps to the temple.

She’d recognized him. “Wait!” Tandreth shouted after the priestess, stumbling after her in a manner that was far too graceless for his liking. Even so, he was still able to climb the steps faster than she, and managed to catch up to her at the temple door.

The priestess whirled around with the vase raised, clearly ready to smash it into his head if the need arose. “Don’t! You didn’t get in last night, and you won’t get in today.”

“Last night?” Tandreth slurred in confusion. While he’d made use of the services of Dibella’s acolytes more than once, for the first time he’d found himself at a point in his life where he didn’t desire them. But if he’d drunkenly lost track of the Dragonborn, or worse, driven her away…

“Divines, you’re still drunk, aren’t you?” The priestess said, her nose wrinkling in a mix of displeasure and pity. “Yes. Last night. You were chasing a crying woman - drunk as you were - and she sought sanctuary from us. You didn’t like that.”

“Idunn.” he breathed. “Was she tall - hair like fire, cow-eyed, great big warhammer?”

The priestess looked like she regretted saying anything. “I’ll call the guard. She has sanctuary.”

“That’s fine.” Tandreth replied, shoulders sagging. “Listen, if it’s her - tell her I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did, but…” She was crying. Running from him. He’d no idea what he’d done, but the consequences made him feel even sicker to his stomach. At least he knew where she was - at least the hundred worst case scenarios that ran through his mind on waking proved to be untrue.

“Oh.” The priestess lowered her jug. While she still looked at him with suspicion, much of the venom faded from her gaze. “I’ll tell her if she asks, but it’s best you-”

Suddenly the door to the temple flew open, and a large red-headed woman nearly ran over the priestess in her haste to escape. An older priestess followed the woman, who’d just shouted “TANDRETH?” loud enough to make him want to cover his ears.

Idunn.

“I’m here!” he shouted back, trying to hide his smile at seeing how perplexed both of the priestesses were. 

Idunn spun around to face him, relief clear on her features. It was contagious, prompting the same in him. She didn’t hate him, whatever had passed by. The motion made her wince, and she placed a hand to her temple.

“You’re hungover too, then.” Tandreth observed, watching her approach him with a greater degree of clumsiness than usual.

“I don’t care about that.” she replied. “How in Oblivion did we get to Markarth? What day is it?”

“The fifth of Second Seed, if you’d only listen.” The older priestess scolded, catching her breath. “Dibella’s grace, you two are a handful. Calm yourself, Daphne - last night was emotion run high by drink. This woman has no need of our protection.”

“I can see that.” The young priestess - Daphne - huffed. 

The fifth of Second Seed. It was the night of the fourth when they were drinking in Windhelm. Which meant either a night had passed - or a year.

“What year?” Tandreth added, causing the older priestess’ eyes to widen.

“202, of the Fourth Era.” she answered neatly. “You didn’t bump your head, did you, dear?”

Only a night. They’d crossed Skyrim in only a night. It was much better than a year passing, but it suggested powerful magic on someone’s part. Selfishly, he had a more important question to ask. “What did I do last night?” He wasn’t quite certain if he wanted to hear the answer - but the older priestess’ remark had him hopeful it wasn’t anything terrible.

“You said my horse had a stupid name.” Idunn replied, flushing at the confession. “I suppose I was drunk enough to try and defend her honor, and we both know you can’t let a jape lie.”

Tandreth had to give his drunk self some credit, for he wasn’t wrong. Cabbage was a stupid name for a horse - but endearingly so. He guessed he didn’t phrase it quite so gracefully the night previous. “Oh. Well, my apologies, madam.” With a great and theatrical bow, he flourished his hand and held it aloft to her. 

With a grumble, she placed her hand in his, and in an over the top display of chivalry he kissed her fingers like he would a king’s. To Tandreth’s surprise, Idunn had a ring worthy of one on her finger.

Her ring finger.

The thing was gold and diamond, and Tandreth knew his valuables well enough to know it was genuine at a glance. Idunn realized it was there the moment he did, and snatched her hand back to investigate as he snapped upright.

“You mentioned something about being newlywed.” The older priestess piped up, while Daphne took her chance to slip into the temple and escape the nonsense.

Immediately Tandreth looked down at his own hands - and found his fingers bare. Somehow that was less encouraging than finding a matching ring. Somehow, between Windhelm and Markarth, Idunn had gotten married. 

She didn’t seem as bothered about it as he expected, staring down at the magnificent creation on her finger. The diamond caught the light in such a way that it was reflected in a rainbow within, the gold pale like winter sunlight. “It’s beautiful. Too beautiful for me.” she murmured. “Especially drunk me. Who do you think gave it?”

“Let me think.” Tandreth replied. It was difficult, with the ringing in his head. The last thing he could remember was a drinking contest with a man who wanted only Idunn’s participation as a wager.

Fury ignited within him, and it must have shown on his face for Idunn’s dazed smile faded immediately. “What?”

“Sam Guevenne.” Tandreth answered. “I’ll kill him - he must have wanted us inebriated, maybe he wanted me dead. My head feels like it. He wanted you involved. It must have been him.”

Idunn scrunched her face up with the effort of trying to dredge through her own memory, but soon understanding dawned on her face. Her mouth settled into a stony line of grim resignation. “We have to find him.”

“How?” he asked in exasperation. “I can’t remember a thing.”

The older priestess was listening to the two of them with growing concern. “Well, you did an awful lot of talking about Rorikstead.” She pointed at Tandreth. “Something about you stealing a goat. She wasn’t happy about it.”

Idunn levelled a look his way that suggested she still wasn’t happy about it, now that she was reminded.

“Rorikstead’s days away.” Tandreth sighed - his nervousness growing knowing that they’d made stops on their nightlong journey across Skyrim. That meant that whoever had put them in their predicament had been with them the entire time - and that retracing their tracks was the best idea.

“Then it’s a good thing it’s early.” Idunn replied, shifting her pack on her shoulders. “Thank you, priestess. We have somewhere to start.”

The priestess bowed her head. “You were quite polite, given the circumstances. I’m glad to help. Him, not so much. Dibella’s grace upon you.”

Tandreth’s eyes settled on the ring on Idunn’s finger. She’d said it was too beautiful for her. 

He didn’t think it was beautiful enough.

[sagasofazeria]

Old Wounds

Song of the Seven Suns, Part 5

Summary: The gang arrives in Koretion, and they find things look to be more personal than they’d seemed for a few members. They gather information on their foes and prepare to confront the slavers.

Taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @hellishhin @talesfromaurea @thelaughingstag

content warnings: discussion of slavery, discussion of death, discussion of childhood trauma, swearing, violence, murder, death, blood

word count: ~ 4200

The clouds were gathering again that morning, a looming promise of storms to come. As the first light of dawn peeked through the gray sky, Faulkron was sitting next to the remains of the fire, staring into the ashes.

He was awake first, a benefit of being elvish and not having to sleep, even though he often preferred to. Along with his keen senses and the fact that he rarely had to drink water, since his body stored it in a special set of vein-like vessels (which he’d freaked out about finding at age 7), made him quite the efficient adventurer.

The fact that sometimes his eyes glowed in the dark, or his blood gave off a faint blue light, was sometimes less helpful.

He looked around the camp at his companions’ sleeping forms. As he scanned around, he remembered what Elikon had told him. “No one does this just for fun. We’ve all got our issues...”

Fuego, who, fiery and rambunctious as he was, seemed almost scared when they’d told him to be careful of his fire.

Jetra, who had approached Faulkron and 2 other random mercenaries out of the blue one day, then ‘found’ a job the very next.

Shakari, an arcane warrior from a desert across the continent. Why was she here, in this place? Why did she care?

Finally, he turned to Alejandro. They’d met, hit it off, had a wonderful night. Faulkron was scared to expect any more, but a guy could dream. Then suddenly, he decides to go with him on a week long journey for a bounty? Not to mention whatever was up with last night. Out of all of them, Alejandro had to be the most mysterious to Faulkron, and he could admit he liked it. Even now, as he was sleeping, Alejandro seemed tense, restless.

Faulkron had no idea what any of these people were here for, but he couldn’t help wanting to know.

He looked down at his sheathed blade, lying on the soft dirt next to him. Even he was here for a reason, wasn’t he? Who were these people to him? Allies? Stepping stones? He thought he was here for money, but there was no legacy to be had with heavy pockets and no glory. So was he here for glory? He thought so.

The truth, the truth Faulkron was too scared to acknowledge, was that he didn’t know why he was here.

He stared for a long while at that sword.

Eventually, the gray of the fading night turned to brilliant blue, as the morning’s light spread across the landscape.

As the rest of the group roused from sleep, Faulkron began to gather his things, sharpening his sword and donning his armor, still quiet in his thoughts.

That day, tensions were higher, and the morning more quiet. They were all wary of another attack, and thinking ahead to their arrival.

By midday, the clouds had grown thicker still, but the rain hadn’t come yet. The road had grown wider and looked better traveled, but it was oddly empty, considering how close they were to town.

Before long, Fuego called out from his scouting position on a tree branch a little ways ahead.

“Hey! We’re here!”

They all sped up their pace, following where Fuego was until they too could see the town of Koretion up ahead.

It was a smaller mining town, carved into the side of the large natural pit that served as its stone quarry. The hills rose up, looming and rocky, all around. The huts and houses were made of carved stone, and most of the inhabitants were busy at work, from what the group could see.

Something was off, however. Rows of sharpened wooden spikes were shoved in the ground near the borders of the forest where the terrain dipped downward into the rocky center of the quarry, and the road was blocked by a large wooden barricade.

As Faulkron peered through the gaps in the sloppily built barricade, he could see that behind it stood 4 terrified-looking people. Two dwarves and two humans, armed with crude spears and repurposed pickaxes.

“Hey! Stop there! Wh—“ the dwarf who had spoken up coughed loudly and suddenly, speckles of red blood dribbling into their curly black beard, as the group saw them clutch a bandaged wound on their side.

As the other two steadied the dwarf, the third guard stepped forward, brandishing her spear. “Who are you? Why’ve you come? You’re not with them, are you?”

The five companions shared a few looks as Faulkron raised his hands. “We come in peace. We heard about your problem, we’d like to help.”

“Ha! You think we haven’t heard that one before? I’d bet my best goat—“ the dwarf interjected again.

The other militia woman cut her off. “Indroma, enough. You’re still hurt, you should really see a healer. If they’re here to help they’re here to help. If they’re not... well... we’re fucked, I guess.”

Faulkron looked to the rest of the group and shrugged. He wasn’t sure what was going on but it wasn’t getting them anywhere.

Jetra walked up next to Faulkron, her lyre in hand. “I can help with your wound, Indroma, if you let us through.”

No voice responded.

“As a way to prove we’re not with the bandits?” Jetra continued.

There was a bit of hushed arguing, but the barricade’s door opened regardless.

As they made their way past, Jetra approached the dwarf. Indroma sat down against the wooden fortifications, breathing heavily, still clutching a deep and partially infected sword wound. Jetra kneeled next to her, slowly unwrapping the bloody bandages.

As she placed her hand against the wound, she slowly exhaled, closing her eyes and whispering soft words that lingered in the air, motes of magical energy dancing around the two for a brief moment before disappearing. As Jetra stood back, Indroma’s wound had a fading light around it, and was now just a faint scar.

Indroma stared at Jetra in shock. “I don’t know what to say... thank you.”

Jetra only smiled. “Least I could do. If you don’t mind my asking, where did you get this?”

“Killin’ some of those damn slavers. One of ‘em got me good, but I don’t die that easy. Thanks again for helping me fight another day.”

“My pleasure.”

Jetra stood back up and rejoined the group. Faulkron looked around at the rest of the guards. “Is that enough to prove we’re here to kill the bandits?”

The guards looked at each other for a moment, but they all nodded silently.

“Thank you.”

With that, the five began to traverse the rocky side of the quarry down into the town.

•••

As they walked down the path, Jetra could see the militia members eyeing them warily. She wouldn’t expect any less, but it would draw a lot of attention. She wouldn’t be surprised if these slavers had lookouts on the inside, and she was willing to bet they’d single out their group rather quickly.

“Okay guys, here’s the plan. Keep a low profile and find us a place to rest, I’ll go find my contact and get more information.”

The others nodded, pulling up what hoods they had. They all huddled together and tried to look inconspicuous, making their way through the town once again. As they walked away, Fuego gave a thumbs up and a grin before blending in and disappearing entirely. At least he’d be fine. She was more worried about the 6 foot elf and the shiny sapphire dragonborn.

Jetra looked on and sighed. It wasn’t doing much, but she supposed it would be fine for now. She just needed to meet up with the captain of the guard, her dad’s old friend, Horakes. Then they could go after those slavers and free this town.

She’d been here once before, as a kid. She remembered being fascinated with all the patterns within the rocks, and how she kept asking the rocks what their paintings were about. Her dad had just laughed. Jetra sighed. She missed that smile.

But now, Koretion was far drearier. The people shuffled about, hands worn and ribs showing from hard work and long weeks at the mercy of the bandits who haunted the hills.

Jetra shook her head. Now wasn’t the time for nostalgia. Clearing her head as the sky darkened, she continued on, and before long found a large stone structure near the top of the quarry’s side. On top, a single wooden ballista sat dormant next to stacks of metal bolts. As Jetra approached the building, she was stopped by 2 more militia members.

Before they spoke, she waved them aside. “Don’t bother, boys. I’m here to see Horakes about your slaver problem.”

The militia men looked at each other for a moment in confusion, but she was already past them into the building, pushing open the door.

Inside, she could see various weapons, mostly spears and modified mining tools, but a few more finely made daggers and shortswords were scattered amongst them. There were stairs that led up to the top of the building, where the ballista was, and various cots on which wounded and sleeping militia members and townsfolk lay. Beyond a doorway covered by a ragged curtain, she could see a large table and the boots of an armored warrior, who she could assume was Horakes.

After drawing her eyes away from the wounded people, she pushed aside the curtain into the next chamber. On the table was a map of the area, and leaning over it was a graying dwarf with weathered skin and broad shoulders.

Without looking up, he grunted and called out, “Who is it?”

Jetra only smiled and said, “A friend of a friend.”

Horakes’ brows raised in surprise, and he smiled, turning to her. “Ah, you’re here! It’s been a while, Jetra.”

“That it has, that it has,” she replied, kneeling to hug him.

She gave a quick squeeze, and then Horakes pulled away. “I got your message, your timing was extraordinary.”

“Well, I do my best. I brought some friends, by the way. I think we’re ready to do this.”

Horakes looked her over. “Are you sure? I mean, I hate to remind you, but... this is the woman that killed your father, from everything we know.”

“I understand that, Horakes. That’s the whole point. I’ve been waiting to take this bitch out for years. Like I said, I’m ready,” Jetra said, trying her best not to look terrified. Somehow, hearing Horakes, stern, confident, Horakes, ask if she was ready was scarier than just her suspicions.

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, kid. Now, what do you need to know?”

•••

Meanwhile, Faulkron and the others managed to find rooms without drawing too much suspicion. The Bedrock & Breakfast was a small inn & tavern they’d found was near the bottom of the quarry, just off the main road into the town.The barkeep was a smiling dark-skinned human woman, with brightly colored tattoos all the way up her left arm. The stump of her right arm was wrapped in a silvery cloth. When they came in, she greeted them without asking questions, and no one gave them any second glances in the quiet lantern light. Once they had all settled in, they met in the central room to wait for Jetra.

As they all sat, Alejandro’s jaw was tense, and he was drumming his fingers on the table, practically staring holes through the wood. He barely ate what food they had purchased, and didn’t speak except for the occasional phrase.

Fuego, in contrast, was practically buzzing in his seat, and ate everything Alejandro didn’t and then some.

Before the clear clashing of mood could become too awkward, Jetra entered the inn. She quickly made her way over to the table, grabbing her map out of her pack and a cup of wine from the barkeep and setting them on the table.

“Alright, I talked to the captain of the guard, here’s what he knew. First things first, the slavers are a remnant group of the—”

“—Mortal Chains,” Alejandro interrupted.

Everyone paused, and Faulkron raised a curious eyebrow, not recognizing the name. “Who are the Mortal Chains?”

“They’re... a terrible group of slavers and marauders. I’ve had experiences with them before.”

Jetra looked a bit taken aback, but she nodded. “Yeah... yeah. They’re ruthless. They were scattered about a decade ago, but remnants remain, and this is obviously one of them.”

Fuego leaned back, stroking his chin in thought. “Okay, how do we get rid of them?”

“Well, they figure they’re somewhere up in these hills. Based on the scouts who have actually come back, they’re set up somewhere in this area, but since we don’t know the exact location we’ll have to search it all. We can assume they’ve set up defenses, considering how well they’ve hidden themselves. The woman leading this group is cunning and devious, and these people aren’t your average brigands,” Jetra said, a clear venom to her voice as she noted the area on the map.

Shakari looked at the map a moment, then tilted her head, one scaly brow raised with an easy curiosity that was betrayed by the intensity of her eyes. “Jetra, you spoke like you know this woman.”

Jetra looked back at Shakari for what seemed like a moment too long, before looking back to the table, expression guarded. “I know of her. She’s dangerous.”

“Who is she?”

“Her name is Dymea. She has a reputation for her willingness to use any means necessary for her own ends, regardless of how dishonorable or underhanded it may be. And, seeing as her ends are usually murder and slavery, she’s a pretty nasty deal.”

Shakari nodded in understanding, turning back to the others. “I see. Should we head there, then?”

“No. We wait until morning,” Faulkron interjected. “If we go now we’ll be caught in the storm, and they’ll have the cover of darkness. They’ll want to attack during the night, that’s when they have the advantage. If we attack at the break of dawn, they’ll likely mostly be asleep, and we can surprise them,” Faulkron explained.

Alejandro’s brow furrowed. “And what if they attack between now and then? Why stall and put all of these people in danger?”

Faulkron locked eyes with him. “If we wait, we have the best chance of victory.”

“This is a badly defended frontier town that is entirely on the low ground. Are you sure we have the advantage?” Alejandro pressed, voice low.

“If it eases your mind, Alejandro, let’s just say they didn’t have us before. We shredded those bandits on the road. We can join the militia on watch if you want, but I’m certain we should wait. Bandits don’t really do sieges. Why would they? They’re milking all the resources they need from the town as it is.”

Alejandro sighed and shook his head. “You do not know these people like I do, Faulkron. They haven’t only been stealing objects, remember?”

Clenching his fist, he begrudgingly continued, “But, I will admit, we stand a far better chance together than apart, regardless of when the fighting starts. We wait until dawn, then.”

With that, Alejandro finished his drink, and stood up. “Now if you excuse me, I’m going to get some air and see how I can help the militia until night. I’ll be back by dusk.” Alejandro looked once around the tavern, then walked out.

As Faulkron sat back and grabbed his drink again, Fuego took his leave as well, pulling up his hood and ducking out into the storm-darkened streets.

Shakari followed not long after, stepping out of the inn with a nod.

When they had left, Jetra sat down next to Faulkron with her own drink. They sat in silence for a while, but eventually Jetra took a long drink and grimaced before turning to Faulkron.

“Are you sure about this plan? Alejandro is right, the Mortal Chains are dangerous. And he said he speaks from experience, gods only know what that entails.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Jetra finished her wine. “Very well. Take some time, have a drink. I’m going to go help out in what ways I can, maybe play some music to cheer up the townsfolk, and see to those that need healing.”

“Hey, that magic you did was pretty cool, by the way.”

“Well, magic is amazing. There’s lots of things you can do with a bit of imagination,” she winked, and walked out as well.

He didn’t realize until a little later than he probably should’ve that he’d suddenly sprouted a blue illusory beard.

•••

Fuego found it pretty easy to lay low among the crowds of miners and townsfolk. A benefit he hadn’t expected when he left Zul’Zagan for the mainland was how easy it would be to hide among all the big people.

He had seen earlier a figure watching them from the corner of the inn, and suspected nothing of it. Probably just some person who was real quiet and thought they were weird. Honestly, he would’ve agreed. They were all pretty weird. All these people were very quiet. Except the bard. Fuego loved her, she was great.

However, when Alejandro left, he noticed the suspicious person follow, and decided he should tail them, just in case they were a plant of some sort.

Now, as the rain began to drizzle down from the clouds and the afternoon sun was fully obscured by a curtain of storm, he was sneaking along the rocky walls of the quarry, following the figure as they followed Alejandro.

As he was sneaking along, he leaped across to another stone roof, accidentally sending some loose stones tumbling off. When they splashed into the mud, the stalker stopped walking suddenly, and Fuego froze.

The stalker turned towards the roof, but saw nothing, and continued on.

Flattened as much as he could against the roof, Fuego let out a breath. He kept his focus on the spell, remembering the unnatural fog that constantly surrounded his home, and his magic hid him seamlessly against the backdrop of the roof.

Now invisible, Fuego’s eye was trained on the stalker, and he followed them until they reached the area houses furthest from the mines. The muddy paths here were empty of life, and Fuego felt the onset of an uneasiness, one that had his skin tingling and his hair raising, even hidden as he was.

Before he could begin to back out, however, he realized that he couldn’t see Alejandro anymore, and it appeared neither could the stalker. Fuego started scanning the area, but he couldn’t see any sign of his friend from the roof. He began to wonder if he’d been ambushed, and drew his sword, which steamed and hissed as the rain fell onto the heated blade.

Down below, the stalker began to cautiously walk forward, drawing a pair of curving serrated daggers from within their cloak. Fuego felt a small rush of excitement that he had been right, but quickly refocused.

He watched as they walked forward, and he began to think that they looked far too much like an insect waiting to be crushed for this to be an ambush.

Or at least, for it to be an ambush for Alejandro.

As he began to realize what had happened, he saw the cloaked person suddenly get yanked into a small muddy alley between two stone huts and disappear from view.

Adrenaline kicking in, Fuego leaped over a nearby hut and looked into the alley, sword and magic at the ready. As he looked on, he could see Alejandro with one of his swords at the stalker’s throat.

“Hola, motherfucker. Surprised?” he growled, pressing the blade closer.

The stalker, a tanned elven man with a shaved head, only grinned.

“It seems I underestimated you,” the man hummed.

“It’ll be the last mistake you make.”

As Alejandro finished his sentence, he hissed with pain, as one of the elf’s blades sank into his side. His grip loosened just enough that the stalker was able to knock away the sword and start sprinting back down the alley.

He only got a few steps before Alejandro’s greaves slammed against his shins, and his legs were swept from under him. He went tumbling into the mud, limbs sprawled.

The elf grabbed at his daggers, clumsily swinging towards Alejandro, who parried them away before brandishing his swords and bringing them down towards the man. Even as the stalker tried to roll away, the blades slashed across his back and sent him falling into the mud once again. The mud was soaked through with blood, and the man cried out in pain.

Rolling onto his back, he kicked Alejandro firmly in the chest, knocking him off balance. Scrambling back to his feet, he held his daggers aloft again, breathing heavy.

“You can’t stop us. Our chains have already wound around Koretion. There’s nothing you can do.”

Alejandro laughed through a grimace of pain.“Oh really? I can kill your sorry ass.”

At that, he leaped forward with his swords.

Their blades clashed, and Alejandro spun behind him, holding his blade once more to the man’s throat. He grunted, holding the man still.

“Déjà vu?”

The elf chuckled. “Not for me, it seems. For you. I saw your brand. You-”

Before he could continue, Alejandro slashed his blade across the man’s throat, and he collapsed to the ground in a pool of blood. As Alejandro stood over him, bloodied and breathing hard, the bandit slowly stopped moving, face still contorted in a half smile.

Alejandro stared down at the corpse and spit on it. “You will not steal any more people away from their lives.”

Fuego let the fog fade from his mind and dropped from the roofs into the alleyway. “What was that?”

Alejandro quickly put his blades up again at the sudden noise, but lowered them seeing Fuego.

“Oh. It’s you. It was nothing, just... he was following me. One of the slavers, sneaky bastard,” he said, kicking the corpse over to reveal all the extra daggers and chains beneath the cloak.

“I mean, I wouldn’t call that nothing. A lot happened there.”

“Wait. How much did you see?”

“The whole thing. I was following the guy since the inn, thought he was acting weird.”

“Ah.”

“Did you know him or something?”

“Not personally, until now. Like I said, I have experience with this group.”

There was a bit of a pause. “Now, I don’t know about you, I’d like to get this treated, so let’s go?” Alejandro said, putting a hand over his wound.

“Right, yes, you’ve been stabbed, we should get you to a healer. Good thing we know one...” Fuego quickly agreed, leading the way out of the alley.

•••

Shakari was meditating beneath a large tree, on top of one of the larger hills that surrounded the town. They’d climbed their way up here in the rain, claws slipping and scraping on the wet stone and muddy hillside.

Now, they were meditating. Their breathing was slow, and the rainwater flowed across and between their scales, trails of water weaving like a tapestry across their body.

There they sat for a while, taking in the view and the clean air, letting the water wash away the sense of uneasiness they carried, the weight they felt, even if only for a moment. After a deep breath, they began to speak out into the storm.

“Brothers, though I am not with you, I am not far. May the dry skies give way to rain and bring you peace, life, and plenty, even if only for a day. I miss you all...” She let the sentence trail off, finishing her prayer in her mind. Her tribe was far away, but she still felt the weight of her exile with every breath.

A few more minutes of meditation, and then she came back down the hill, reflection over and her current task at the forefront of her mind.

•••

That evening, they all gathered at the tavern, Alejandro’s wound now just another scar among many, thanks to Jetra. There was another quiet toast to kicking ass, and then they left the central room to get some early sleep.

Faulkron didn’t need the early sleep like his companions, and so for what time he had to himself, he patrolled the streets, hood up as he walked among the shadows.

What Alejandro had said earlier had sat at the back of his mind, simmering just under the surface. He felt a responsibility now, weighing on his shoulders, and that hadn’t gotten any better when Alejandro was stabbed. He was sure he wasn’t responsible, but there was still a small seed of doubt and guilt that had started to sprout in his mind.

So he walked the streets, eyes flicking over every corner and shadow, unable to rest until he could be satisfied that he hadn’t made a grievous mistake.

The pattering of the rain was the only sound, and the light of the moons and stars was obscured by the heavy clouds. It was almost peaceful, in the stillness of the night, but the threat of storm and slavers haunted the darkness like an ever-present ghost.

Part 4 | Part 6

[cupcakecoterie]

@true0neutral - Hazel, half-elf cleric

@fauxfire76 - Darvin, human bard/sorcerer

@miaaoi - Froseth, dragonborn monk

@hyperewok1 - Remi, human paladin/warlock

@lindira - Clarity, tiefling rogue/warlock

Marion - Ava, human ranger

Brian - Barnabus, minotaur fighter

So, yeah, my dice are utterly terrifying, or else all the luck I lack elsewhere ends up going into random dice. Not that what happened is necessarily lucky...

See, @hyperewok1 had Remi go to the Shrine of Pelor in Egref to have a specific magical item created for Alisaie, to allow her aasimar-granted wings to last longer, at least for flight. They were aiming for about an hour. However, since this was a slightly unusual circumstance (and some phenomenal text RP), I made a couple of mechanics about how it might go a little bit above and beyond. So I rolled percentile dice: on a 25, 50, or 75, she’d be able to have an hour total, as in if she ended the effect after ten minutes, she could re-engage it and have 50 minutes left. But if I rolled a 100...

GUESS WHAT I ROLLED. (I swear, my fucking dice...)

So Remi told Alisaie what the circlet she’d had made was supposed to do; Alisaie went speechless and very smoochy, and was encouraged to try them out. She activated her wings, had a second of nothing but, “...ow...”, and then BAM. Physical wings, like unto a deva or an angel. Thankfully she was wearing a largely backless dress at the time.

For all it was not what anyone expected, it was some phenomenal RP all told as everyone went their own shades of “What the FUCK” and tried to determine the best way to proceed. Alisaie’s keeping the wings (she does love to fly, and it’s probably nice to have something that Antimagic Field or Dispel Magic won’t touch) and is currently figuring out ways around wardrobe issues, seating arrangements, sleeping arrangements and use of Disguise Self when she has to be more inconspicuous than literal wings allow. Remi’s going to have words with Ziriel, and probably the individual who crafted the thing in the first place.

...But later, because wedding reception. A pair of very unexpected wings wasn’t going to fuck with their wedding.

......Honestly, everything else kind of did that anyway.

Hazel’s Quickflight cousins were hosting the reception at their restaurant, The Farmer in the Dale, and wound up more or less pummelling Hazel, Clarity, Darvin and (because Darvin drew her in to deflect some of the questions) Ava. Clarity put it best: “It’s ... like ... a halfling gelatinous cube...”

Remi’s parents more or less cornered Kreia Bendis (the brass dragon who runs Alama-Ver, its capital Al-Zorhai, and the Brass Arrows) about her denying Alisaie her rightful place with the Brass Arrows as punishment for someone else’s misdeeds. Corri Crestwind is a force to be reckoned with, and after the rest of the Five Claws joined in, Kreia Bendis gave up and decided, since they were all part of the same group and were going to have to hunt together if they were hunting in Alama-Ver territory anyway, asked what Clarity and Barnabus had helped kill before inducting Alisaie, Barnabus and Clarity into the Brass Arrows. Clarity and Barnabus were a little confused, but there you have it.

Vieve Alled, the silver dragon who runs Eun-Bac (home of the People and the Silver Vault, capital city Damyl), told them that they’d be given a task by whatever hunting pack of the People they ran into on the outskirts, which if successfully undertaken would guarantee them entry into the section of the Silver Vault of their choice. She figured it’d be faster than making them go all the way up to Damyl and then back down to perform the necessary task. She also warned them that she would house them when they finally reached Damyl, and that no one leaves her table at their shared meal without telling three things about themselves. Ava worried about this until people effectively reminded her of how interesting her life has actually been to someone who isn’t living it.

Remi made a joking remark about how she wanted a cut of the profits from that play about her and Alisaie. Never make joking remarks around Cal Etielle; that particular copper dragon takes the weirdest things seriously and left mid-reception to shake said cut out of somebody. Succeeded, too, so now there’s a significant but as-yet uncounted amount of platinum in Remi’s possession.

Cal Etielle also made a toast to the couple. So did Darvin; it was very moving.

The Crestwinds, bakers by trade, made a glorious wedding cake, intricately iced to reflect the lives of the happy couple to date. Corri also baked Remi some chocolate chip cookies (Remi’s favourite).

Kreia Bendis propositioned Hazel, who’d been giving Kreia Bendis looks of, “You’re hot but TERRIFYING!!!” for basically ever. Hazel meeped a lot and went to ask Clarity what to do about this. See, their relationship is a little complicated because Clarity’s asexual and Hazel’s ... not ... and they’re striking a balance to allow Hazel’s physical desires to be met while still keeping ... romantically monogamous, if that makes sense. (I mean, it does to me, but Clarity has the same outlook as I do in that regard.)

Side note: off-screen, Clarity said that’d be complicated for her because they would probably have to work with Kreia Bendis on and off and knowing that would be stressful for Clarity, so not so much. Clarity also demanded an apology from Kreia Bendis, who said, more or less, “I’m not psychic - I just asked a question. Message received but I don’t owe you a damn thing”. Both sides have points so it’s honestly just interesting.

Reception went well in spite of (or maybe in some ways because of) the weird shit, and Remi and Alisaie went for their two-night stay at one of Egref’s luxury resort hotels.

The next in-game day, and thus the next session, is going to be all about shopping and bits and pieces because we’re missing a @miaaoi (belated Canada Day outing) and a @lindira (literally 4th of July) and anyway, dice bullshit means that Alisaie needs to sort out her wardrobe. Again.

Don’t we just have the most fun?

[reachfolk]

1, 6, 13, and 16 for Alexi and Ursula and shoot anyone else you wanna answer for

💛 from @korvanjund

thank you sm for the ask darlin!! i decided to also include my little haglet ophelia since i've been adding more to her storyline today, and it's about time i start talking more about my other character lol.

who are they closest to? how did they meet and what do they like to do together?

i already answered this for alexi here!

ursula: she's obviously very close with her wife, bothela. like i said in her chara sheet, the two met when markarth was under reach control and they worked together as healers. they spend most of their day running the hag's cure together and training their apprentice. when they aren't doing that, they mostly focus on their own little projects and research; bothela seems to somehow never tire of alchemy even long after the shop closes, and ursula likes to tinker around with dwemer texts and tech to see what she can find out. then they get back together and discuss whatever interesting things they learned. she's also super close to her niece and nephew! isobel doesn't love having the kids spend time with her, but the few times they are together, they love hearing all her stories from when she was in the uprising and just stories of the reach in general.

ophelia: she'd literally lay down her life for every single person in her coven dklfjskdj, she's very dedicated to them!! but of course, she's closest to her mother, helle. helle was in the forsworn uprising, and she had ophelia not long after markarth was secured. after it all fell apart, she raised filly to continue fighting for the reach, but the rebellion was never the same after madanach was imprisoned. eventually, the two (along with some of ophelia's closest friends from the forsworn) disbanded and formed an independent coven. ophelia supported her mother through the ritual to become a hagraven matriarch, and she's gladly willing to take on the same burden should anything happen to helle. helle taught ophelia a LOT about everything she knows about magic, and she's working on honing her skills as a seer to better guide the coven. although helle is the matriarch, her daughter is her right hand man of sorts and is just as responsible for everything they do. she runs around the coven doing just about anything that needs doing to help the members, whether it's hunting with hypatia, babysitting honey while beatrice is busy, or assisting esmeralda in her expeditions to old ruins.

on an average day, what can they be found doing after dinner?

alexandria: the short answer is: way too much !! the long answer: girlie has the worst case of insomnia ever and she compensates for that by using Way Too Many stamina potions, so it's usually her companions that even have to remind her to stop for dinner at all. even after dinner, she knows she wouldn't be able to sleep unless she majorly tires herself out, so she likes to run around doing more and more stuff. if her companions are too worn out from the day to do that, she likes to restock their potion supply or practice her spells. if after that she still can't quite fall asleep, she'll usually go on a late night hunting trip. there have been a few times when the local blacksmith tries to open shop and just finds her tanning leather at their station lol

ursula: she's quite the scholar, especially when it comes to the history of the reach! this goes beyond just the reachfolk; she also studies the history of the dwarves in the reach, the dragon cult, etc. she's published a few books covering the subjects, and is considered a leading expert on the matter. if she's not having a chill evening with her wife, she likes to continue working on those books, whether she's writing for them or just doing some research. she makes occasional visits to isobel's family, as the kids absolutely adore her, but those are few and far between.

ophelia: she's a little like alexi in that she does way more than anyone has any business doing kdsjfhd. she doesn't have the same ailment of course, but she wants to take off the pressures of managing the coven from her mother's shoulds, at least as best as she can. by the time they finish dinner, she's already thinking about where to go hunting for the next day's meal. she prays at the shrines to the old gods, who often send her visions to guide her. she checks in on each of the members and their individual duties and their work. she'll sometimes read honey a story before bed or sing her to sleep when her mother is away. she takes care of helle when she's in pain (i hc that the hagraven transformation can be pretty painful and draining, not unlike the briarheart transformation). when she does have a moment to relax, she likes to spend it by the river, soaking her feet and watching the stars.

what special abilities or talents do they possess? did they develop through training or were they born with them?

alexandria: she's always had a knack for alchemy, like i said in the other post! it was why her tutor encouraged her to apprentice at the hag's cure, where she built on that natural talent with a lot of hard work. despite her young age (around 22-27 depending on her point in the story), she's practically a master alchemist already. she'll insist she's not a master—"well i don't think anyone could ever know everything there is to know about alchemy. it's an evolving discipline and—" she's the worst lol. but the point is, she's one of the best ones you'll find around!! she's not an expert in things like sword fighting or marksmanship, but she makes up for it with her potions and poisons, making her a formidable foe.

ursula: she's pretty well rounded i think, having been a fighter and a healer for much of her life. she's also fairly good at alchemy herself. a lot of those things weren't really inborn, but she had a lot of great guidance from the other people that were part of the uprising. since it was in the works for many years, and ursula joined in during the early stages of its planning, she had a lot of time to hone her skills. by the time of the main story with lex, she's pretty much a master at restoration magic in particular, as that's the one she's used most in the 30 years since the city was reconquered by the nords. when the temple of dibella is closed, she's looked to as the town's primary healer.

ophelia: like i said before, she's a seer. it was always an inborn gift she's had, but her training with her mother as well as her devout worship of the old gods give her visions a significant boost. she's most devout to vaermina, who shows her visions of omens and looming threats to both her and her people in her dreams. she's actually the one that told alexandria to go to helgen, because she got a vision of what was going to happen and knew alexi was central to it. her visions can sometimes come in the form of metaphors rather than exact tellings of what'll happen, so she thought that alexi being personified as a dragon in these visions was some odd metaphor, as was helgen being burnt to the ground. needless to say, she later realized those visions were more literal than initially thought lol

how do they like their baths/showers? hot/cold, long/short?

alexandria: like absolutely scorching lol. when she bathes, she often uses a flames spell to get the water damn near boiling before she hops in. when it's revealed that she's the dragonborn, she makes a lot of jokes that it's because of her dragon blood, but tbh she's just Like That.

ursula: warm, but not as much as lex. she's still spry and healthy, but she is Old (tm), so she finds a warm bath nice and soothing, yk? especially since most of her work is on her feet.

ophelia: cold or lukewarm at best. she loves bathing in the karth river, and she appreciates it regardless of the weather. the karth is practically sacred to the reachfolk, and she finds the embrace of the cold water bracing and energizing! lord knows she needs that considering how much is on her plate.

[wafflefries13]

The Consequences of Late Night Calls

Happy birthday to the world’s best blasty boy! 

This is the first fic I’ve written for tumblr, so let me know what you think!

Warnings: None, I think. Some cursing, some guy talks smack for a bit. 

Genre: Fluff

~~~~~~~~~~

The call shocked you out of a deep but impromptu sleep. You jerked up from the noise, a page of lecture notes sticking to your check. It fluttered back to the desk covered in its own mess of loose leaf documents, used textbooks that cost more than a weekend trip to Disney World, and a laptop missing three of its letter keys. 

You dragged your tongue against your teeth, trying to get rid of the cotton feel coating the inside of your mouth. Rubbing stars into your tired eyes, you wondered when exactly you had fallen asleep. Was it somewhere near memorizing the latin terminology for court rhetoric or around reading the case file and trial records you were going to be tested over on Monday? Deciding wondering was basically pointless, considering you had pretty  much forgotten all of it anyway, you pawed blindly around for your phone. 

“Hello?” You answered, eyes still closed, although it probably came out and more of a mumbled groan than anything else.  

“(Y/NNNNNNNNN)!” 

You pulled the phone away from your ear, wincing at the sudden loud noise. Blinking bleerally, you looked down at your phone. You had taken the caller ID picture a year ago, at a sorority Halloween party you barely remembered aside from the copious amounts of alcohol consumed followed by an ill-advised scavenger hunt that ended with a call to the police and the dean’s car somehow ending up in the agriculture department’s greenhouse crowded with Jack-O-lanterns. It was a profile shot of Bakugo Katsuki, his mouth opened in a mid-yell scowl, as was his standard expression, and eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. One hand extended to try and block the camera, the other clutching a brown bottle. He was wearing a fantasy barbarian king costume, chest bare to show off the taut muscles he worked so hard for all of high school to get. When he’d shown up in it, or, rather, when Kirishima had dragged him along in his own dragonborn costume, you couldn’t believe he still had it. You remembered sitting in your basement in 9th grade, pricking your fingers with a sewing needle as you and the rest of your newly formed D&D group, Bakugo and Kirishima included, spent way too much time and effort into creating your costumes. 

Rubbing at the bridge of your nose in a vain attempt to chase away the headache you could already feel forming, you brought the phone back to your ear. You could hear the low thump of bass heavy music in the background. 

“Hi, Suki,” You said, trying not to sound condescending, but it came out like that anyway. 

“Hey!” He said sharply. The rest of his reply was slurred smooth. “I told you not to call me that.” 

You smirked. “It’s cute.” 

“It’s embarrassing! ‘M not cute.” 

“No, you’re calling me at-” You pulled the phone away again to check the time. “Katsuki, it’s like two in the morning, what the hell?” 

You heard someone shout something on the other side of the line that Katsuki mumbled a reply to. To you he said, “Was thinking about you.” 

You felt yourself blush despite yourself. “You were thinking about me?” 

There was a clunk and a bump. You could imagine him falling against a wall and sliding down to sit until the room stopped spinning. “Yeah. I don’t like it.” 

You ignored the jab in your heart. “Well, thanks.” 

“It keeps happening. I’ll just be, like, doing stuff, and then I just think, ‘What would (Y/N) think of that?’ ‘I wonder what (Y/N)’s doing right now.’ ‘(Y/N) would know what to do now. She’s so smart. And her hands look so soft. And her eyes are so pretty.’” He was quiet for a second. “It’s annoying. I can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s worse when you’re here.” There was a shuffling as you heard him try to stand up then give up again. “Why aren’t you here? I want you here.” 

You were wide awake now. You clenched and unclenched your hand, trying to process the information your obviously drunk friend had just confessed. Your stomach churned in a mix of anticipation, anxiety, and straight up butterflies. 

What the hell did all of that mean? Well, of course you knew what it meant, or you knew what it meant when spoken by a sober person of sound mind and body. But there was no way, you tried to rationalize, that The Bakugo Katsuki, the guy you’d known since freshman year of high school when he’d punched a guy who had flipped up your uniform skirt on the first day, the guy who had surprised just about everyone in home economics when he busted out a three tiered cake like it was no one’s business, the guy whos ego was big enough to have its own gravitational pull, was confessing his feelings to you in a drunk rant at two in the morning. 

“Katsuki,” You said in a soft voice. “I-” 

There was a retching sound from the other end of the line. Katsuki coughed, tried to say something, then threw up again. “Aw, fuck.” 

That headache was back with avengence now. You sighed, looking for your keys. “Katsuki, where are you?” 

“Uhh, on campus? At the Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever house. There’s a party. Why aren’t you here?” 

“You know I hate all the Greek life bs. Stay where you are, okay? I’m coming to get you. You’re completely wasted.” 

“‘M not. I can handle what I drink.” There was another pause before he wretched again. 

“Did you just throw up again?” 

“...No.” 

“Cool. I’ll be there in ten.” 

You didn’t wait for him to respond before hanging it. You didn’t think your heart could take it if he kept going on like he had been. Grabbing your keys and heading out of your crowded studio apartment, you hopped in your car to go save your drunk friend from making any other ill advised decisions that night. 

You realized that you were probably over thinking the whole phone call as you drove through deserted streets. You couldn’t help it, it was a bad habit you had formed as a kid that now  made you obsess over court documents and testimonies in class. But now, instead of helping, it was picking you apart. What did Katsuki’s tone imply when he was talking to you just now? Could you trust the tone of an inebriated person? What did he mean when he said he thought about you a lot? You’d known each other for years now, being involved in almost all the same activities. Wouldn’t it be natural to think about someone you spent so much time with? But you’d known Kirishima for just as long, not to mention the rest of the self-named “Baku-Squad.” You’d never gotten a late night drunk call from any of them. Heck, Katsuki had known Izuku way longer than he had known you, and you were pretty dang sure Katsuki had never called him going on and on about how he always thought about him. 

Stopping at a red light, you pressed your forehead into the soft faux-leather of your steering wheel, willing your thoughts to calm down and just come to a rational conclusion already. Expect, you know, a rational conclusion that wasn’t that the guy you had carried a torch for for almost as long as you had known him might actually have feelings for you back. 

You turned on to the street lined with sororities and fraternities across from the main campus. You had to slam on your breaks almost immediately to avoid running over a tipsy, giggling co-ed who was stumbling out into the road. She didn’t even look up at you. 

You didn’t know exactly which house Katsuki was stranded at, considering you could see at least three different parties all going on at first glance. His “Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever” wasn’t very helpful, either, considering all the Greek letters adorning the houses blended together in your mind at some point. And you really didn’t want to tramp through a bunch of different houses tonight. 

Thankfully, you were saved the trouble when you saw Kirishima’s 1969 Chevrolet Chevelle park half off the curb in front of one of the houses. You’d know that car anywhere. Kirishima had dragged your group to various scrap yards and auto-repair stores all summer after he got his license, the first of you all to do so, in an effort to fix up the worn down Chevelle that he’d bought for a hundred bucks and a turkey sandwich. 

You parked on the other side of the street then jogged across to the house that was practically vibrating with heavy music and Greek life energy. Stepping over a semi-conscious frat boy laying in the doorway, you scanned around the house for any sign of Katsuki’s pomeranian-puff-ball hair. 

You spotted Denki lounging on a couch, a lampshade on his head and a tangle of phone chargers clutched in his fist. His hand sparked every now and then as he used his quirk to recharge the collection of phones. 

You lifted up the edge of the lampshade. “Hey there, Pikachu.” 

“Heeeeeey~” He said, giving you a thumbs up. You could already tell he was too far gone, although you didn’t know if it was from drinking or the over use of his quirk. 

“(Y/N)!” You heard a voice call behind you. A body fell heavily against your back. Sero wrapped his arms around you in a backwards hug. “Where you been? We missed you!” 

“Studying. I’m boring, remember? I’m looking for Katsuki, you seen him around?” 

Sero snickered. “Bakugo, huh? He’s been looking for you for a long time, right, Denki?” 

“Heeeeeey~” 

You swallowed hard. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” 

Sero snickered again, flopping on the couch next to Denki. “Can’t tell. Part of the bro code. And he said he’d kill me.” 

“That does sound like Katsuki.” 

Sero covered his eyes with his arm, head leaning back. With a wide smile, he waved his hand in the vague direction to the back door. “I think he’s out by the pool or something.” 

You waved bye. “Thanks, I’ll go check it out. You guys take care of yourselves, okay?” 

“Look at ‘em go,” Sero said to Denki as you left. “You think they’ll have a spring wedding?” 

“Heeeeeey~” 

*~~~~* 

You managed to weave your way through the crowd of bodies clogging the house to finally spill out into the back yard. You had no idea how people were able to stay this energized this late into the night with this many other people around. You remembered once being stuck at another party, early on in your college days. When it became super clear you didn’t want to be there, overwhelmed by the noise, the crush of bodies, and the suffocation of social enterprise, Katsuki had dragged Kirishima over to you, planting him in front of you as your ‘extrovert shield.’  He’d stayed with you behind the boisterous redhead for the rest of the night. 

You wondered if Katsuki remembered doing that, if he remembered any of the small nice gestures he did for you over the years. And now, with his call, with what Sero said, with your over analyzing brain, you were dissecting every interaction you could remember. Was the time he opened a door for you a signal? Was the reason he would ask to study with you for chemistry, when he was way better in practically every subject than you, just so he could be close to you? Were the times he had given you his jacket when you were cold meant to be a more intimate moment? 

God, you were going to go crazy. 

Walking around the pool, you finally spotted the hot-headed blond. He was sitting slouched over on the end of one of the reclining pool chairs, forearms braced on his knees.  You almost called out to him, stopping cold when you saw the girl behind him. She had draped herself over his back, chin rested in the crook of his neck, one had massaging his shoulder, the other conspicuously sneaking under the hem of his shirt to rub circles on his abs. 

You clenched and unclenched your hands, worry gnawing at you as a headache at the back of your skull. Had something changed between the time he had called you and now? Had there been nothing there to change at all? Had you been misreading this situation the whole time? 

Katsuki looked up, his permanently affixed scowl even deeper. The second his jewel-red eyes met yours, you felt your heart skip a beat. He jumped to his feet so fast the girl behind him fell back against the chair. He tried marching over to you, which was made only slightly less intimidating by the drunk sway to his step. 

You didn’t remember him being so tall. You’d just seen him this afternoon. There was a flushed blush across his face, adding a surprising softness. Were his arms always that strong looking? Were his eyes that piercing? Was his jaw that strong? 

“You came,” He said, voice rough as whiskey soaking into gravel. 

You spread your hands. “Well, you said my name three times, so, here I am!” You laughed nervously, trying to ignore how his gaze pinned you down. 

He took another step towards you, hand reading up. “(Y/N), I-” 

His cheeks turned from pink to green. Lurching to the side, he vomited into the pool. You tried to help him back up, hunched over and trying to catch his breath. The crowd of people around you groaned in disgust before rolling in to sarcastic applause. Katsuki flipped them off. 

“Alright, Suki,” You said, rubbing his back. “Let’s get you back home.” 

He grumbled, leaning his full weight against you. You almost stumbled and fell with the sudden shift of balance. Katsuki slid his arm around your waist, hand firmly grasping your hip, as if he was the one trying to prevent you from a drunken stumble. His fingers felt like fire through your clothes. 

You decided to go around the house instead of trying to push your way through it. Soon you were making your way across the street. It took some maneuvering to unlock and open the passenger door. You practically dropped Katsuki in where his head fell back with a groan. You grabbed his seat belt and stretched across him to fasten it. It wasn’t until he started petting your hair that your realized your position of half-way laying across his lap. You jerked back, some of your hair getting caught in his fingers. He made a disappointed sound at the loss of it. 

You slid back into the driver's seat, trembling hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. You had to take a few steadying breaths before you were ready to start the car. Pulling out of the neighborhood, you glanced over at Katsuki. His eye brows were furrowed, eyes closed, mouth pulled in a small frown. 

God, he looked adorable. 

You hit the break harder than you meant to at the light. Adorable? Where the hell did that thought come from? He’d probably be furious if he knew you ever thought that. 

But…

You risked another look at him. When he let his face relax like this, you could see the slight chub that still clung to his cheeks. Another thing he would hate to know that you thought was how much you loved the softness that it leant him. It was cute. 

Almost without your realizing it, you lifted your hand. You were overcome with the sudden urge to poke his cheek. A car horn blared behind you when your finger was less than an inch from his face. You let out an undignified squeak, hands slamming back to the wheel. Katsuki grumbled and turned in the seat, head resting against the window. You could feel the blush burning up your face. 

A few minutes later, you pulled back to the apartment complex. You both lived in the same building, Katsuki directly below your own unit. And now you were overthinking his reason for not living on campus. 

When you opened the passenger door, Katsuki almost fell out. You jerked forward to catch him then dragged him out. He half woke up, as feeble on his legs as a newborn horse. 

You lugged him through the lobby. He was muttering under his breath, but most of the words you could make out were curses. Not unusual for him. You pressed the button for the elevator repeatedly. It just blinked back at you. You sighed in frustration. They had been doing maintenance on your building all week, but now might have been the absolute worst time to do the elevator. 

You shook Katsuki’s shoulder a little bit. His head jostled like a bobble-head. “Suki, I’m gonna need your help here for a minute.” 

His head lolled forward, forehead coming down to press to yours. In a quiet voice, he whispered, “I’d do anything for you.” 

You shoved him upright, face burning. “Then walk up the damn stairs yourself!” 

Despite that, you still ended up half-carrying him up four flights of stairs. You were uncomfortably sweaty when you reached the door to Katsuki’s apartment. The two of you had traded copies of your apartment keys when you had moved in. “In case something happens to your dumb ass and I need to come save you,” He had said. He would frequently stop by, usually when you were hours deep into an all-nighter. He’d bring his laptop and work on whatever 12 page essay way due on your bed while you poured over case reports. You’d sit in silence, just together, sharing the same space, content with nothing more than knowing the other was nearby. Or he’d bring you real food to make sure you weren’t just eating ramen all the time. In turn, you’d pull him out for game night with the squad, make sure he’d actually call his mother once in a while, and lend an ear to his semi-nightly rants on whoever he decided to hate that night. 

You fumbled with the keys, jamming the key in the lock then pushing it open with your shoulder that wasn’t currently occupied by a half-asleep, full-drunk boy who had at least 50 pounds and ten inches on you. 

There was always an expectation with the rooms of single college boys. Greasy pizza boxes, empty bottles of booze displayed like expensive decor, at least one poster of a half-naked girl somewhere, probably a basket of clothes that should have been washed weeks ago. And while you knew plenty of guys who fit that description, Katsuki defied expectation. His apartment was always immaculate. His shoes were lined neatly by the door, a calendar above his desk  color-coded with assignment due dates, bed made. Katsuki may give off the persona of a punk, but you knew he was a straight-laced nerd through and through.  

With the last of your strength, you lugged him across the room, dropping him on his bed. With a groan, you stretched your arms up until you heard a satisfying pop in your back. Hands on your hips, you watched as Katsuki moaned, burying his face in his pillow and pulling his feet up from the floor. You sat on the end of the bed, tugging his feet to you to unlace his shoes. You let them fall haphazardly to the floor, too tired to care about his level of neatness.  

You grabbed a bucket from his hall closet, putting it next to the head of his bed for when he inevitably woke up vomiting in the morning. Checking his bathroom, you put a couple of painkillers and a glass of water on the nightstand with a post-it note saying “Drink Me.” 

Brushing your hands off, you looked around and checked your work. Satisfied that he wouldn’t kill himself between now and when you would inevitably check on him in the morning, you decided it was finally time to head back upstairs and get some well deserved sleep. 

But… 

You turned back at the door. Katsuki was splayed like a starfish, gently snoring with his mouth wide open. You also noticed his blushing red fluffy cheeks. 

You tapped the door knob a few times before sighing in surrender to temptation and turnin back. You knelt down next to the bed. For a moment, you just watched him sleep. He looked so peaceful now. You reached out. Your index finger sunk into his cheek like it was a marshmallow. You couldn’t believe you had never done this before. God, he really was adorable. 

Your thoughts were abruptly cut off as Katsuki’s hand shot up and grabbed your wrist with an iron grip. With a shriek, you tried to scramble backwards. Katsuki lazily opened his eyes, not at all bothered by your struggles. With seemingly no effort on his part, he tugged you forward. Off balance, you fell into his chest. Katsuki wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug, slinging a leg over yours, trapping you on the bed. 

“Katsuki!” You hissed. You squirmed in his hold, not getting any extra room. He just hummed, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You were pretty sure your face was hot enough to start a fire. “Katsuki, let me go!” 

“No,” He mumbled. His voice rumbled against your skin sending shivers through your whole body. 

“Katsuki!” 

“You can’t leave. If you leave, you won’t come back.” 

You stopped struggling. “What are you talking about?” 

He squeezed you tighter. “I’m loud. I get angry real easy. I fight a lot. And you…” He trailed off, his breath catching and rattling in his chest. “You’re so much better than me. You’re nice and smart and talented and pretty and caring and… and…” You could feel the hot tears landing on your skin. He was starting to shake. His grip had loosened enough for you to get out, but instead you brought your arms up and pulled him in closer. “If I let you go, you’ll see how much better you are than me. And you’ll leave. You’ll leave me because you’re better and you deserve so much better. But I’m a selfish bastard and I just want you for myself because I love you so damn much.” 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You wiggled your hand up, threading your hand into his hair and tilting his head to look up at you. 

“I love you too,” You said softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Katsuki crushed you to his chest, letting out another loud sob. You could feel hot tears pressing against your eyes. You had no idea Katsuki felt this way about anything; about you, about himself, about your relationship. 

But one thing you knew for sure: You loved Bakugo Katsuki. 

~~~

The first thing Katsuki noticed when he woke up was the head ache. His head felt like he had a railroad spike jammed through his temples. God, what did he do last night? There was the party at Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever house. It’d been fine for a while, hanging out with the guys, playing beer pong, winning some extra cash from freshman in poker (where did he put that money anyway?). And then…

And then someone had said your name. He’d heard it across the room, an amazing feat in and of itself, but his ears were trained for any news of you. He’d jerked up right when he heard it, missing his shot at the beer pong table. He gladly took his drink and went prowling through the house. Who had said your name? Were you here? Were you coming?  

It might have been selfish, he knew how much you hated loud crowds, but damn it, he wanted you here. He remembered the last Greek life party you had been at. He’d lost you at some point between getting into an argument with that damn Deku and pulling Denki down from a keg stand. He’d finally found you huddled into some back corner, looking like a rabbit about to dart from a hungry fox (he wouldn’t mind being that fox, honestly, he could eat you right up.) You’d lost the color in your face, hands shaking as you clutched your red Solo cup almost hard enough for your nails to pierce the plastic. 

He snatched Kirishima by his collar as he carved a path through the room. He planted the extroverted red-head in front of you, creating an extrovert shield between himself and the love of his life you. He’d spent the rest of the night talking to you. Nothing special, he couldn’t even really remember what about. But he did remember the relaxed slope of your shoulders, the spark in your eyes, the smile that played on your lips at whatever lame joke he had just made. 

Back in the present (or last night, whatever), he was still stalking through the halls looking for whoever had mentioned you. He heard it again, the tail end of your name, coming from the living room. 

“-(/N) never had it so good.” There he was, lounging along the bottom stairs with a smug look on his face as he regaled the small crowd he had attracted. Katsuki recognized him as one of those legacy kids, the one who showed up to the first day of orientation in a sleek black Bugatti and took up three parking spaces, talked in almost every one of his classes when he even bothered to show up, and was, without a doubt at every party on or off campus. 

And now he was telling a story about you. What were you ever doing with an asshole like him? 

“You would never guess it from how she dresses, you know,” The guy continued, lazily waving his half-empty beer bottle. “But she is stacked.” 

Katsuki tensed up, his heart jumping into his throat. He pushed aside the crowd until he stood right in front of the bragger on the stairs. “What did you just say?” He asked through clenched teeth. “You're talking about (Y/N) (L/N), right?” 

He lazily swept his gaze up, grinning wide when he saw Katsuki. “Yeah, (Y/N)? You know, she comes across as a frigid bitch, but let me tell you, she’s an incredible lay.” Katsuki’s vision went red. The crowd started to subtly shuffle away, feeling the cold change in atmosphere. “Not much besides that, honestly. Thank god her tits and ass are amazing, cause her face sure wasn’t doing it for me. Super boring, too, heard she’s failing her classes. Oh, well. Hey, I could use a side-piece when I’m running my own firm, you know?” 

The asshole never saw it coming. In the span of a heart beat, Katsuki had grabbed his designer jacket and hoisted him off the stairs, pinning him to the wall so his feet kicked to try and reach the ground. 

“You listen to me, asshole,” Katsuki hissed. “You never talk about (Y/N) again. You never look at her, you never talk to your shit-stain friends about her, you sure as fuck never tell another lie about her, or so help me, you’ll get to find out what color your liver is.” 

Katsuki was half-way sure the jerk had pissed his pants. He dropped him in a heap, landing in the puddle of spilled beer on the floor. He brushed his hand off on his jeans, eager to get whatever germs the gossip had off him.  

He was almost out of ear shot when he heard the rich kid spit and say, “Fine. She’s probably crawling with it if you’re dicking her down.” 

The kid’s head made a dent in the wall as he richoched back from the impact of Katsuki’s punch. He would easily have a black eye and a broken nose, the chipped tooth would just be a  bonus. 

Katsuki’s head was fuzzy with rage, stalked through the house, bee-lining it to the nearest source of inebriation. How dare he? How fucking dare that absolute ass-wipe ever even think of saying such horrible things about you? He wasn’t even worth knowing your name, much less saying it. Not to mention the fact he must be blind to think you were anything less than stunning. Ever since he had known you, you had been nothing but kind and smart and caring and funny and…

“Baku-bro, you doing okay?” 

Katsuki didn’t realize how tight he was holding his fists until he relaxed. His nails had made half-moon indents in his palms, his knuckles brushed red from the punch. 

Kirishima had his mouth pulled down in that stupid puppy dog pout. “I’m fine,” Katsuki brushed him off. He grabbed a beer out of an iced cooler, twisting off the cap in a single motion and chugging half the bottle. 

“Well, that’s good, cause I don’t think Tim Flood is making it out of here without a few stitches.” 

“Good.” Katsuki finished the beer and chucked it into a recycle bin. He grabbed another and stalked out of the room. Everything felt too hot, too tight. His head was pounding. If you were here, you’d get a bag of ice and press it against his forehead. You’d probably call him an idiot for getting into another fight, that he needed to learn how to manage his temper better. He’d call you a dumbass but let you lead him away somewhere dark and quiet, away from all the other more insufferable dumbasses. You’d find some pain killers, get him some water, because that’s just the kind of caring person you were. Maybe you’d bring him upstairs, lead him to an unoccupied bedroom. The two of you would sit together on the bed, maybe just a little too close. You’d hand him the water, his hand would brush against yours. You’d look down, shy, blushing cutely. He’d lean forward, thread his hand through your incredibly soft hair, angle your face up to him. Your plush lips would part slightly and he’d lean forward and - 

“Are you sure you’re good?” Kirishima asked, abruptly cutting off Katsuki’s impromptu fantasy. “Cause you don’t look so good.” Katsuki bit his tongue. “Is it because of what that guy said about (Y/N)?” Katsuki whipped around, glaring daggers. Kirishima smiled and put his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, bro, it’s okay! No one believed him, anyway.” 

Katsuki scoffed, taking a swig of the beer. “(Y/N)’s too good for him anyway.” 

“I bet you think (Y/N)’s too good for everyone here, right?” 

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you need to hurry up and tell (Y/N) you like her!” Sero shouted, jumping in out of nowhere. 

Katsuki dropped his bottle, Kirishima catching it just in time, and grabbed Sero by the front of his shirt and lifted him up. Sero just grinned his stupid, wide grin. 

“Come on, Katsuki,” Denki said, slinging an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders. “We all know you’ve had a thing for (Y/N) since high school. Why don’t you just put us all out of our misery and tell her already?!” 

Katsuki felt his face heat up. “I don’t- I haven’t - Fuck you!”  Katsuki couldn’t remember why he was friends with these three idiots as they all burst out into laughter.

 He snatched his bottle back and pushed through the crowd. He needed some air. He heard Sero yell after him, “You have to tell her eventually!” 

And… That was mostly it. Katsuki’s memories of last night sort of started to trail off after that. He knew that he drank, he drank a lot. At some point he ended up by the pool. And maybe he’d called someone? Oh, hell, he hoped he hadn’t called someone. 

His eyes snapped open at the soft groan. There you were, just inches away from his face, fast asleep and tucked in his arms. You were pressed close, breasts pushing against his chest, legs tangled with his, one hand clutching his shirt. Your lips were parted ever so slightly, breathing heavy and even. 

And you were so fucking close. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His arms tightened around you and he tensed. How the hell did this happen? Did you actually come to the party last night? When, and why? What had called you down there-? 

Oh. Oh, the call! He had called you last night? Some time in his drunken haze he must have figured out to bypass the timed lock he had put on it specifically to avoid calling people with a too-honest tongue. But had you…?  Nervously, he looked down. He sighed in relief. You were both still dressed. At least that was one mistake he knew he hadn’t made. 

Alright, that was one problem. Now, on to the next one: How was he going to get out of here without waking you up? Craning his head around, he checked out the room. Wait, this was his room. He was in his apartment! A picture of last night started to form in his mind. He’d called you, blabbering God knows what, and then you’d been a good person (why were you such a good person?) and had come to get him, to make sure he was okay. And then what? He’d somehow seduced you into his bed? No, it was more likely you had stayed to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit, maybe sat on the bed because it was the middle of the night and you were exhausted, and then… This. 

Okay, okay, no, this was fine, he could fix this. He could slip out, let you keep sleeping. He’d make some breakfast in the kitchen and then you’d wake up, wander in rubbing the sleep from your eyes in that cute way you did when you pulled an all-nighter studying. He’d chastise you for lugging his drunk ass up here, for being out so late at night. You’d wave him off, compliment his cooking, tell him to take better care of himself, and then smile up at him with that blindingly beautiful smile and sparkling eyes. 

“Morning.” Katsuki yelped at your greeting. He stared, wide-eyed, down at you, as you look back up at him lazily with those sparkling eyes. “It’s kinda hard to breathe here.” He realized then just how tight he was holding you. He jerked backward, his shout of surprise cut off as he fell off the bed. He rubbed his sore hip, looking up when he heard your giggle. You were leaning over the bed, smiling shyly when he caught you staring. 

He gulped hard, feeling his face burning up. “Hi.” 

You tucked a loose threat of hair behind your ear. “Hi.” 

He should say something. He needed to say something. God, why wasn’t he saying something? 

“I-“ Katsuki stopped with an incomplete thought in his mouth. He suddenly felt uncomfortably hot, his stomach clenching and throat going dry. Your face dropped as you lunged forward, dragging a bucket in front of him (where did that even come from?). He surged forward, clenching the sides of the bucket in a white knuckled grip, and threw up. 

You slid off the bed and knelt next to him. You rubbed small circles in his back, whispering small comforts as he coughed up bile and alcohol and who knows what else. You reached over behind him and grabbed a glass of water from his nightstand. 

“Here,” You said. “Rinse and spit. Don’t swallow or gargle, it’ll just mess with your gag reflex.” Rubbing the spike of pain growing in his forehead, he did what you said. When he caught his breath, he accepted the pain killers you had and dry swallowed them. You really had prepared for everything, huh? 

Katsuki shoved the bucket away with his foot, leaning back against the bed. “Fuck…” 

You hummed in response and scooted to sit next to him. “So,” You said. 

“So,” He said back. 

“I don’t suppose you remember much from last night?” 

He clenched his jaw, mouth going dryer than it already was, if that was possible. He tried to laugh, but it sounded forced and strained, even to him. “Hey, we’re both still wearing pants, right?” You didn’t laugh back. 

“So that’s a no then?” The seriousness with which you said that made him pause. 

“I, uh, think I called you?” 

“MmHmm. You didn’t sound too great, so I came to pull you out.” 

“Huh. Thanks for that.” 

“Yup.” You paused for a second. “Do you remember… anything else you said?” 

Fuck. 

“Uhh, I owe you breakfast?” 

You looked away. “Is there anything you maybe told Sero that you wouldn’t want him to tell me?” 

Double fuck. 

“If this is about Halloween last year, Mina was the one who brought the Ouija board.” He smirked at you, waiting for you to laugh with him. Instead you didn’t even look up, staring a hole in the carpet with the intensity of your gaze. 

You let out a sigh through your nose, pushing off your knees to stand. “I’m gonna head out,” You said, rubbing the back of your head and still not looking at him. 

Katsuki jumped up, immediately regretting as his head began swimming. “(Y/N), wait-“ He cut himself off with another surge of nausea and lurched towards the bucket. 

“Katsuki,” You said, sounding frustrated. “Look, I…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair and turning back to him. “We’ve known each other for a long time now, right? And for all the time I’ve known you, you’ve been stubborn and pig-headed and aggressive and just, you know, you. But still, in all that time, despite everything, I still…” You pressed your lips, looking for the right words. “I’m happy when I’m around you, Katsuki. I feel at ease, I feel protected, I feel like I can be better at anything. And I’ve thought about this a lot, so much that it makes my head spin and my heart hurt, but through all the trouble I still think it’s worth it. Because at the end of the day it means I still get to be with you and sometimes I just feel like that’s enough, but now I…” Your lip was trembling, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. Katsuki wanted nothing more than to take a big step forward and wrap you in the biggest, tightest hug of your life. Finally, you sighed in defeat. “But if you can’t say it, if the One and Only Katsuki Bakugo can’t say it, then how the hell can I?” 

Your voice broke on the last word. Katsuki was so stunned and suddenly pinned with guilt that he couldn’t move when you spun on your heels and rushed out of his apartment. 

Oh, fuck. 

~~~

“Idiot,” You murmured to yourself as you fled up the apartment stairs, furiously wiping at your eyes to get rid of the oncoming tears. “Idiot, idiot, idiot.” By the time you reached your apartment and slammed the door behind you, you weren’t sure if you were talking about Katsuki or yourself. 

You felt sick. Anxiety gnawed at your mind like a starving coyote. Had you really just confessed your feelings to Katsuki? Had you really just confessed your feelings to Katsuki like that? Would he ever speak to you again? Would things just become too awkward that you’d be edged out of your friend group? They had known Katsuki much longer than they had known you, after all. God, what if he was calling Kirishima right now and telling him about the disaster of a morning, after you had taken advantage of his blitz out state and slept in the same bed with him? 

Well, no. Kirishima was probably still knocked  out from his own night of heavy imbibing. Not to mention that even he, the most kind-hearted and patient person you knew, would have to draw a line at listening to Katsuki rant while dealing with a massive hangover. 

And no, Katsuki wouldn’t do that to you. Despite his rough deminor, his abrasive personality, and his profane tongue, Katsuki was actually a sweetheart deep down. Maybe really deep down, but still. He wouldn’t be so intentionally cruel, even if you told him that you shared all of his baby pictures of him playing in his All Might onesie online. 

So then why were you still huddled on a heap on the floor, back pressed against the front door, crying? Why was this pit of loneliness blooming in your chest?  

You yelped at the sudden banging on the door. Who could be here so early in the morning? You had paid rent this month, right? You sniffed, rubbing your eyes and smoothing out your clothes. You hoped your cheeks weren’t the blotchy red they got whenever you were upset. You took a deep breath to steady your voice for whoever was outside. 

Opening the door, you looked up at a wide-eyed Katsuki, panting hard with determination set on his face. You groaned internally. 

“Katsuki,” You began,” About what I said, I’m sorr-” 

Without waiting for you to finish, Katsuki surged forward. You tried to take a step backward, almost falling, but he caught you, a strong grip on your shoulders. Without waiting for you to get your bearings, Katsuki leaned in, smashing his lips against yours. 

It wasn’t a graceful kiss, all clashing teeth and urgency rather than romance. His eyes were screwed closed. He stayed pressed against you, not moving, grip so tight on your upper arms you thought there might be a mark later. 

Just as suddenly as he had come forward, he jerked back, but kept his hold on you. You both breathed heavily, eyes locked. Your mind whirled, a hundred voices shouting at the same time. For once, you decided to ignore them and let your body do what it wanted. 

You reached up, wrapping your arms around Katsuki’s neck and pulled him back in. This kiss was controlled, soft and sweet. His hands dropped from your shoulders to wrap around your waist. He pressed in harder, adding desperation in the kiss, as if he thought you would vanish any second. When you both pulled away this time, he leaned his forehead against yours, noses bumping into each other, sharing the same breath. 

His voice was rough. “Sorry,” He said. “I had to brush my teeth first.”

[lake-arrius-caverns]

Prologue - pt 1

content warnings strong language (including the c word)

so i lied im posting it today

here it is, the first part of the prologue and roughly the point where things started to go to shit for the twins 👌 a short one but next part will be posted Sunday!

featuring lots of background characters and bad language (these kids have no decency)

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

— — — — — — — — — — 

“Does anyone believe in prophecy? Or destiny?”

Silence overtook the makeshift camp following the question, directed at nobody in particular. For a few seconds none of the group spoke, the only sound being the merry crackling of the fire sitting on the shoreline of the Imperial City Waterfront. All eyes were now on the ginger Breton, Merrick, whose expression was rather blank as he stared at the fire, lost in deep thought. Absently he petted the head of a large black and grey dog that sat beside him, her tail wagging lazily with contentment. 

“What brought that on?” asked a Dunmer, Nari, her brow raised inquisitively. 

Merrick finally looked up, catching Nari’s eye and shrugging. “Don’t know. Just... something I read-“

“Oh, look out. Merrick’s been reading again!” Fahjoth, another Dunmer, teased as he ran his fingers through his choppy black hair, eliciting a round of laughter from the gathered crowd. Their number was modest tonight - most appeared to be off doing their own thing, if they weren’t currently incarcerated. 

“Wonder which book he nicked this time?” Cassius, a fair-haired Imperial and the de-facto group leader, smirked at Merrick. Despite his young age, he was a talented strategist and thus far the group had thrived under his competent tactics.

Merrick’s freckled cheeks flushed bright pink and he opened his mouth to argue, before settling on a pout instead as he drew a black leatherbound book out from his satchel.

“It’s The Book of the Dragonborn,” he explained, opening the book and thumbing absently through the pages. “It details the contents of an Elder Scroll-“

“The fuck is an Elder Scroll?” 

“-and the prophecy written in it,” Merrick continued, smiling slightly as his dog buried her nose in his hand. “It’s really interesting. But I’m not sure what to think about the concept of predeterminism and all that.” 

“Merrick, mate...” Cassius said. “No offence, but I don’t think anyone here knows what the fuck you’re talking about.” 

Before Merrick could respond, a rustling from the bushes nearby caught everyone’s attention and instantly put everyone on edge - but the group heaved a collective sigh of relief when a third Dunmer, bearing a striking similarity to Fahjoth, emerged in the shadows, hauling a rather large sack along with them. 

“Ey, there she is!” Fahjoth exclaimed cheerfully, “What’ve you-“ 

As quickly as the previous tension left, it doubled back, more palpable than ever. Now illuminated by the glow of the fire, her grave countenance eased into wary relief as she approached, yet did not leave entirely. 

“And she’s alone,” Cassius remarked, suspicion evident in word and gaze. 

“We lost Shorbjorn,” Ribyna said dully, dropping onto the grass besides Fahjoth and resting her head on her hand. Fahjoth’s face fell in mirrored grief, and he immediately offered his twin a bottle of brandy. Ribyna accepted the drink without a second glance and began to drink without hesitation.  

“Ribyna?” Cassius prompted after a few seconds of deafening silence. “What the fuck happened?”

Ribyna’s expression was stony as she eventually responded. “We were seen. Bad timing. The fucker called for the city guard and about 10 of them all came running. That cunt of a captain, Rusant. He was there.” 

A murmur of displeasure rippled throughout the gathering. An altercation with the newly-appointed captain of the city guard, Leonius Rusant, did not bode well for anyone unlucky enough to be involved. “And?” Cassius frowned. “What then? You’re both fast, what was the problem?” 

“Shorbjorn tripped. That’s what the problem was,” Ribyna answered. “They were on him like flies on shit in seconds. He yelled for me to keep running, so I did...”

Once again a somber silence fell over the group, before Abik, a Redguard, spoke up in a low, gravelly tone. 

“It’s alright. It’s only petty theft- he’ll get one, maybe two years at the most-” he began, cautious, but Ribyna only cut him off with a dry scoff devoid of humor. 

“Nah. Shorbjorn decided to fight back. Decked the Captain right in the face. Busted his nose. I heard Rusant - ’I’ll see you hung for that!’”

Once again, a heavy quiet settled over the once cheerful camp, everyone’s faces now reflecting sorrow or anger or a combination of the two. Eventually, the silence was broken by a small Argonian. 

“And you just ran?!” Taneen-Mil spat indignantly at Ribyna, who instantly tensed her shoulders and glared back at him. “You could’ve helped him!”

“And got myself arrested as well?!” Ribyna snapped back. “Yeah, that would’ve been fucking helpful! You would’ve had a shitload of fun starving for a week without any food!” 

“Guys,” Abik interrupted before the confrontation could escalate any further, scratching his beard with exasperation. “Quiet. Taneen, Ribyna wouldn’t have stood a chance. She did right by running away.”

Taneen couldn’t argue, and so he simply settled into a huffing silence. A few moments later though, he stood up. “I’m going to bed,” he announced bitterly. “See you tomorrow.” 

Not long after he departed, the other group members also stood up and bid their various farewells. Before leaving, one of them, a dark-haired Imperial named Vykstrus, stared grimly at Merrick. 

“This is why the whole prophecy, destiny, whatever thing is bullshit. You reckon Shorbjorn was destined to die like this?”

“Leave it, Vyk,” the Bosmer Aerlewen murmured. “Come on.” 

A younger Bosmer, Siriel, cast a melancholy look back towards the group, before they too slunk away and disappeared into the shadows after the others. Eventually, all that remained was Cassius, Fahjoth, Abik, Merrick and Ribyna, the latter of which was still seething judging by the sour look on her face. Merrick gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“You don’t blame yourself, do you?” he asked, looking mournful himself. Ribyna didn’t respond for a few moments, but eventually she heaved a despondent sigh.

“I do wonder if... if there was something I could’ve done,” she admitted. Abik was quick to reassure her. 

“Course not. You were outnumbered five to one, kid,” he pointed out. “That’s the way of life for us out here. Either you’re fast and agile enough to escape, or you get caught. Simple as that.“

Ribyna still looked troubled, so Fahjoth pulled her into a rough, one-armed hug. “We’re just glad you made it back safe,” he told her. “What would I have done without my little nuisance, eh?”

Ribyna managed a small grin at that, playfully pushing Fahjoth away. Cassius, despite still looking disappointed, nodded in agreement. “They’re right. It’s better to lose one of us than to lose two.” Eventually he stood up, looking down at Fahjoth curiously. “I’m off. You coming?”

Fahjoth shook his head. “I think I’ll stay here tonight.” He shot a subtle glance towards his twin and back, and Cassius nodded in understanding. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. See you tomorrow then.” He leaned down briefly to give Fahjoth a kiss, before turning and pacing quietly away into the darkness. 

Abik stood with his hands in his pockets, staring thoughtfully up at the stars. “Someone‘s gonna.. take care of Rusant before long, you mark my words,” he said. “Maybe the Gray Fox will step in, if we’re lucky. All I know is.. things can’t keep on like this.” After stretching with a roll of his shoulders, he turned his gaze down to Merrick. “You ready, Merrick?”

Merrick slowly nodded, watching Ribyna with concern. “Yeah...” He slowly got to his feet and rubbed Ribyna’s shoulder sympathetically. “Try not to worry, Ribyna. It wasn’t your fault, ok?” 

Ribyna looked up at Merrick, touching his hand with her own and managing a small smile of gratitude. “Yeah... cheers, mate. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye. Come, Pip.” Merrick headed off in Abik’s wake with his dog trotting along beside him, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to throw a smile or a wave at the twins. Ribyna watched him go, then turned to Fahjoth.

“You didn’t have to stay with me, y’know,” she pointed out. “I’m fine.”

Fahjoth chuckled dryly. “It’s fine. I wanted to. I can get some anytime.”

Ribyna wrinkled her nose in distaste and chortled. “Too much information, bro. Gods, you’re a humble bastard, aren’t you?”

“You know it.” Fahjoth grinned, but then his face fell into a worried frown. “You had a close call tonight, y’know. You’ll have to be more careful in future.”

“Really? I was thinking of going in with a blindfold on next time.”

“I’m serious,” Fahjoth sighed. “We’ve been lucky so far, but more and more of us are getting nicked by the day. Sorak, Pif and now Shorbjorn...” He lapsed into silence, staring into the flames for a few moments. “Right, come on then. Let’s get some sleep ourselves.” 

Fahjoth stood up and tossed a nearby bucket of water on the woodpile, extinguishing the fire and plunging them into darkness. Once their eyes became used to the gloom, the Waterfront was bathed in the cool silver glow of the waning moons above. “Let’s hope those bastard rats haven’t chewed through our shit again.” 

Ribyna nodded mutely, hauling herself to her feet and trudging after her twin brother towards shelter. Despite her friends’ reassurances, there was a heavy weight in her gut that just wouldn’t shift, the night’s events replaying over and over in her mind until eventually she would find sleep.

[kaiju-z]

Seon Adventures, Episode 37: The Client

When last we left off, Akar’Niel showed himself before the adventuring party, the Cultbusters for the 2nd time in two weeks time, after their group finished the most important part of their dungeon delving quest within the Tomb of the Fallen King.

With his re-introducing words of “Did you miss me?”, Akar’Niel takes the stage.

And there he was, leaning on a pillar.

Face to face again, this time before rest would overtake them, Akar’Niel makes himself known to the party. The Half-Elven man is met with a mix of intrigue from Jun and Luck, distaste from Mournimar and Belli and a careful study by Malak.

Morgan surely would be by his partner’s side due to the surprise appearance, while Arryn? Arryn was taking a well needed rest, oblivious to the conversation that was transpiring.

With the semi-hostile atmosphere coming from the party, Akar’Niel reveals to the lot of them that he is the client, who requested the fetching of Ena, currently in Luck’s possession.

From the initial interrogation, it’s hard to tell much about his intentions with the blade, aside from keeping it gathering dust in the tomb, or a museum to just be gawked at. However - Belli and Mournimar gather that he’s asking intently about the sword, but based on his physique, there’s a reason he’s not trying to wrestle it off. And Jun? 

Jun knows he lied and knows who River is. There’s an eyebrow twitch, when Luck asked why it mattered to him. He’s very emotionally invested in this artifact.

Furthemore, he tells the party he is of the Circle of Shaksban, the exclusionary spellcaster guild in Crystalgate. To try and gain the party’s trust, Akar’Niel offers himself to be placed under a Zone of Truth spell and willfully fail his save.

Belli casts said spell and a question and answer series begins, wherein he re-affirms he is who he is and what his intentions for the sword are. To hand it to the Darksbane Army for use, specifically, as they are considered by many, in different tones, as “the noble sort”.

During the talk, while Belli slips up and mentions that there’s only one human in their party, despite Luck wearing his disguise, Jun takes note of something about Akar’Niel.  She can see his eyes have a bit of a yellow flicker that moves like a vine in the wind. Furthemore, There’s almost like a faint breeze going through his hair, despite there being no wind?

The conversation carries on for about as long as the Zone of Truth permits, with an air of tension being raised from a half-suspicious and half-amicable side of the party. And Ena herself speaks to Luck, when he asks her what her take is on this arrangement.

Ena finds the party’s client a smug man, but is indifferent in who wields her, as long as blood can be shed. A bit unnerving, if honest answer from the weapon of a late king.

A deal ends up being struck, where the party agree to return Ena themselves, rather than hand it over at this moment to Akar’Niel. And that whenst he checks on the group the sound of wind chimes will follow.

With his departure, the six go to sleep, taking a long rest.

And in the morning? Luctan brings out the Dragon Skull for Malak to question. After debating what the questions should be...

Malak casts Speak With Dead. And for flavor and more amicable conversing, he asks in Draconic:

- 1. ”What were the names of you and the other dragon that attacked?”- “I’m Izyr. Lord of the Sands. My companion is Zamberrut , the Barbarian.”

- 2.“What destroyed the dwarves and dragonborn?” – “A magic not even I know.”

- 3. “Do you know who cast it?” – “The wizards. The magic users, who enforced my brother and I.”

- 4. “Do you know any of their names or locations?””I don’t know their names. They gave us fake ones.”

- 5. “What were the names they gave you?” – “We met with a man, who called himself Nehren and a woman, who called herself Seriza.”

Curious.

Very curious. And requiring further questioning.

Malak would ask again, after sharing his findings with the party.

- 1. “What did they use to compel you and the other dragon?” – “The same thing it always is. A fuck ton of cash.” They were bribed!

- 2. “What did the people that compelled you look like?” – “Well, the tiny one had a weird face, gray hair. Very old. And the woman, a heavier set woman. Human?!”

- 3. “Where did you first meet them? At the mountains, a little bit north of here. Right near the border.”

- 4. “Were they wearing any identifying marks? Jewelry, anything. Special cloaks.”- “No? I don’t think they did. This was like five years ago, man. One of them had this three headed dragon guy, which I found weird.”

- 5. “Did he have 3 heads or a symbol with 3 heads?”- “A symbol.”

Interesting info. They were hired. But it wasn’t clear if it was the work of the council. But one of them was a Fornas worshippers, the little graying man. A 3 headed Dragon symbol meant just that.

Why though? Why would a Fornas worshiper do this sort of cruelty?!

The party once again agree to proceed to Guan.

And so begin the days of travel once again.

On the first day, they go north and come across what one can tell are the remains of a town, just based on the slight shapes. There are visible peaks of what was once the town of Hertis. The travelers could hear faint whistling as they’d pass through. A jaunty little tune.

How jaunty? Jaunty enough that it slaps!

Following around a corner of the remains of a building, the group finds themselves in front of a lone tent. A campsite. This here seems to be a homemade farm with tomato plants in buckets. And the whistling is coming from inside the tent.

As though we are heard, the tune carries on with it’s performer stepping out to see their guests. And it is a female Kenku, 3ft tall and carrying firewood in her arms.

Most of them hadn’t seen one since the tournament, from the team of rogues, but as she speaks in a variety of intriguing voices, Luck and Belli remember hearing of this particularity of the Kenku before. They were cursed to not speak in their own voices, so they learned to mimic others’.

“Well hi!” Zooter would say in one voice. (which we later learned OOC was of the gril from session 3 or 4, who flirted with Belli).

From what the group can gather, Zooter, as she introduces herself, is a lil’ survivor, making a life out here for themselves.

The Cultbusters and the lone citizen, Zooter exchange pleasantries and foods. With the party giving her dried meats for a potato, much to her delight. To a point where she even states that if they ever need a safe spot to rest the night, she will offer them one.

(Seriously, Zooter has such a cool mix of voices. Scorpion among them.)

Surprisingly, from the corner of their eyes, Luck, Belli and Mournimar can see the inside of the tent. What the surprising thing is the small shrine to Ebriosus, which eventually also comes to Jun’s knowledge.

And she reaches into her wares, pulling out tens of platinum coins, which she hands Zooter and the two bond over their connection through Her.

Excited, Mournimar buys of the plant that would grow into the intoxicant “Steam Root” and through some big brain thinking, decides to plant it in the pot Malak bought for him.

(And many weed jokes were had.)

“You know? I loved you from the moment I saw you.” Zooter would say to Jun in another familiar voice, which she herself would specifically and only her recognize.

Later down the line, the group would carry on with their journey, parting ways with Zooter, the friendship made that day cherished forever.

And some good progress is made in travel.

On day 2, nothing really happens. If there’s any nasty shit in the desert, they see and avoid it. But that night, as they settle down, take their usual watches and the like, Jun has a dream to herself.

Day 3. That evening comes to a close and on the next day it’s very open dunes. They travel on more rocky/mountainous terrain. Very hilly. (And they are alive with the sound of music). Their awareness of our surroundings is good enough to where we’re safe. They sleep and nothing happens.

Day 4, the sand is less and the rock is more. Still wasteland, still no water They come across small streams at least once a day.

On the evening of the 5th day, Malak has a specific dream as well.

On day 6... They climb to the top of a little canyon that’s going on. Because they’re higher up, there’s no risk of danger. They get a feeling that for the next few days they’ll be pretty safe.

The 7th day comes and goes and on the 8th, Luctan has a dream. A promissing dream.

Then comes  Day 8.  Smooth as fuck.

Day 9.  They march and march on through and Arryn informs his travelmates that at this point today? They’ve been in Guan for a few days. He didn’t want to mention anything, ‘cause he didn’t want to jynx the group when they passed the border on day 6.

On day 9  the travelers come across to a barely a settlement. A few tents. Some lizard folk, the occasional kobold too. No farms, but there are caravans. We can tell they’ve been there for a while. On the outside, there is one Lizardfolk, more beefy than the rest.  And he is digging a hole. Diggy-diggy-hole.

He welcomes the party and proclaims that they are coming through in a good weather season. “Isn’t it lovely?“ Sand storms and humidity. Yep.  It’s been wild.

He introduces himself as  Eknam, the town burrier. So essentially, he is the undertaker of this settlement. Low on town people, but he’s optimistic that things are turning around. One of their ladies is swollen. So, it might be a big clutch!

They lost their town location, but what’s left of them, they’re called the Gromlets.  Eknam’s idea was Bog Creatures, but they have no bog.

They’re trying to find a place that’ll support them and the water supply isn’t tainted?! Aside from the side effects, there’s the whole limbs dropping off if you drink water 2 years in a row?!  Due to their resistances, it takes longer for the Lizardfolk to be affected, but for others? Much-much quicker.

Malak offers help and eventually clears the water for several days with Purify Food and Drink, while speaking to the settlers in draconic: “Hello, I’m the water technician. I’m here to clean your pipes.”

Greatful, Eknam welcomes the lot of them to Guan.

Eknam notes, upon us mentioning where they’re headed, that they’re going in the right direction of the capitol. Only have to go east and if they don’t get to it, they’d go north.

After some more directions, regarding going through the canyons, Eknam mentions that if the party bring them anything interesting they’d enjoy, they’d welcome the Cultbusters into the family.

While the directions are given,  Jun shifts into a lizard folk and searches for the pregnant lady, whom she finds in an open tent, resting comfortably, big and next to an egg that had recently been laid by her.  Bless her.

Jun congratulates her, before going off to search for the strongest camp person. Who would be Eknam in this case. The expecting mom’s a bit confused about the congratulations, but is grateful.

It is then that Jun talks with Eknam.

She asks him to keep her safe and sound from any harm. Eknam would ease her concern for what could be by stating how she is their highest priority. Always watched. Noting how every settler in the area kept a close eye on her tent.

“She is always our priority.”

Before the party leave, they give them some stuff to help them along with the developement of their settlement. Clothes and the like.

With goodbyes being made, the party would carry on to the next leg of the journey.

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