#gale's expressions were so fun to draw

[whenthewallfell]

~ I Got Them Quarter Quell Blues ~

[obsessedwhyyes]

The Learned Observer

Fic Request: Voyeurism

Summary: On a sleepless night, Gale notices the distinct sound of hushed voices outside his tent. It couldn't be you and Astarion… could it? When he decides to take a peek - to satisfy his scholarly curiosity, of course - he gets more than he bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2623 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader, implied Astarion x Gale x Fem!Reader Content: Gale's POV (first person), voyeurism, dry humping, handjob, public sex, male masturbation, a little bit of jealousy.

A/N: Gale, in my humble opinion, would not use the word, “cock.” I cannot express how hard it was to not use the word, "cock" in a smut fic. I frigging love that word. Anyways, writing entirely in Gale’s voice was honestly the most fun mini challenge I’ve set myself so far, and I would gladly do first person BG3 companion POVs again. Thank you, dear anon, for the request!

Another sleepless night.

The orb pulses beneath my skin, each throb a reminder of my predicament.

I implore my mind to wander to the events of our journey, to the challenges that lie ahead, in pursuit of a worthwhile distraction. But the orb’s hunger grows stronger, like a raging maelstrom, each tribute to its insistent pull a mere ripple against the tide of its endless consumption. Perhaps I should consult the others about–

… Voices drift from outside my tent before I can finish my thoughts. Curious.

Hushed laughter and whispered words. Astarion's distinctive timbre and… you.

The sound is soft, subtle - a quiet exchange. Yet, here I am, catching fragments of something private, something perhaps not intended for outside ears.

I shift, the faintest spark of curiosity pulling me from my solitude. It's innocent, surely - a late-night conversation, perhaps a shared joke. And yet, as the moments pass, I can't ignore the intimacy in your laughter, the way Astarion's voice drops to that silken murmur he reserves for his attempts at enticement.

Just a glance, I tell myself. Merely to understand what could be so amusing at this hour.

Slowly, carefully, I draw back a sliver of canvas, just enough to peek through.

My breath catches as my eyes adjust to the firelight outside. There, on the other side of the campfire, resting against a fallen log, you sit beside him, close - very close - your faces inches apart.

Your legs are entwined, and there’s an intensity in the way you look at each other. I’m taken aback by the hunger in the kiss that follows - one neither timid nor restrained. Your hands begin to explore each other with what I can only call fervour - the kind of urgency I hadn't known either of you possessed, let alone with each other. 

The way you move together speaks of raw desire rather than tender affection - this is clearly a new physical relationship.

When did this start? How did I miss the signs? Though perhaps I was too caught up in my own concerns to notice the lingering glances, the way you always seemed to find reasons to be near each other…

I tell myself it’s simple curiosity that keeps me here, observing. A certain academic interest, if you will. After all, Astarion has always been something of a hedonist - a man who indulges in his desires with a recklessness I sometimes envy, though rarely approve. But to see him like this - in action, as it were - offers a unique perspective on his character.

You murmur something I cannot make out, a teasing lilt in your voice, and Astarion laughs in that rakish, honeyed tone of his, as though thrilled to have you so wholly entranced. His hands grip your waist, and with a practised grace, he pulls you into his lap, the hem of your skirt spilling around you both. As his hands settle on your hips, you grind against what I can only assume to be a prominent hardness in his trousers, judging by the satisfied smirk on his face. 

You seem eager, pliant under his touch, responding in ways I confess I hadn’t thought you capable of - no, not like this. Not with him.

My heart hammers in my chest, a tension spreading through me that’s… increasingly difficult to ignore. And yet, I remind myself, this is mere observation, nothing more. A clinical exercise in understanding the intricacies of interpersonal attractions between a vampire and a mortal; the undercurrent of danger that befalls such an arrangement.

He holds you with a blend of confidence and entitlement that borders on decadent, his mouth at your neck, lips brushing against your skin with a maddening leisure that’s somehow indulgent and teasing all at once. His fangs linger there and, for a moment, my heart stops - surely he wouldn’t… Ah, no. No, he’s not feeding. He merely kisses your neck, fangs scraping lightly against your throat - close enough to tempt and tantalise. I see the goosebumps flare on your skin.

He whispers something low and unintelligible, and you let out a soft giggle, yielding in a way that speaks of trust - trust that’s he’s earned, somehow, despite his nature.

And then your hand drifts between you both, touching him through his trousers.

Gosh. I hadn’t thought you so bold.

Astarion’s body arches into your touch, his gaze darkening as he watches you with a hunger that’s both terrifying and… strangely beautiful. I find myself entranced, my breath shallow as I observe the way your fingers trace over him, the way he leans into you. The noise he makes when your fingers flex, squeezing him gently over the fabric… Gracious. 

There’s a strange, reluctant curiosity building within me. I should look away. I should grant you both the privacy you likely assume you have. And yet, my gaze remains fixed, drawn to the details of your encounter: the way his hands tighten on your waist, the way your breaths synchronise, the way he murmurs softly into your ear…

I am aware - painfully so - of the ache low in my body that has built with each passing moment, each glance, each touch. I am no stranger to restraint - I have spent years tempering my desires, sacrificing comforts in the pursuit of knowledge, of power. Yet, here, now, I feel that restraint begin to falter; to dissolve like ink in water, dispersing until it is all but unrecognisable. It has been so long, after all. So, so long.

When your hands move to the waistband of his trousers, my breath catches. Gods above, surely you won't, not out in the open... but yes. Yes, it seems you will.

When you pull him free, well - I’ve always wondered about vampire physiology, purely academically, of course. But the sight of him prompts rather less scholarly thoughts. He’s impressively endowed - perhaps it is wishful thinking to believe that this is but another gift of his condition. It’s fascinating how vampiric transformation affects every part of the body - he’s almost luminescent in the firelight, every inch of him perfect and unmarred. I notice the veins that trace along his length, faintly visible beneath his skin. He is, even now, a study in confidence, exuding a subtle power that one can only achieve when utterly comfortable in one’s own skin.

Your hand wraps around him, sliding up and down his length at a teasing pace, drawing forth a sound I have never heard our pale companion make - a soft, broken gasp, caught somewhere between a moan and a sigh. It sounds almost reluctant, as though he hadn’t meant for such a sound to slip past his lips. He twitches under your ministrations, and his grip on your hips tightens enough that there will surely be bruises tomorrow.

My fingers rest at my thigh, trembling ever so slightly. A small part of me - a remnant of reason, perhaps - tells me to pull back, to look away, to let this moment pass without surrendering to the need that has taken root within me. But my body, the traitorous thing it is, does not heed such commands. Instead, I find my hand drifting lower.

My fingers trace over the fabric of my trousers, over the aching hardness beneath. A gentle palming, barely enough to ease the tension that coils tighter with each passing moment as I watch the scene unfold.

Your hands elicit quiet murmurs from Astarion that grow deeper and more insistent with each passing moment. For a moment, the two of you share a look - one of conspiratorial mischief, perhaps - and then a soft, shared giggle, the sound mingling with the crackling of the fire. 

You're so utterly engrossed in him; so utterly unselfconscious.

You shift, a question in your eyes, and as he nods, giving his assent, you rise just enough to shift, positioning yourself over him. Your skirts drape around you both, providing a veneer of modesty, though there's no mistaking what follows when you sink yourself down on to him. The way your lips part in a gasp as he enters you, the way his head falls back with a victorious grin - it makes the tightness, the great ache between my legs, almost unbearable.

I find my hand slipping beneath my waistband.

Just a little relief, I tell myself. Just enough to ease this maddening tension.

There is a certain poetry to it, I suppose - this surrender to the pleasures of the flesh. I allow myself to imagine, as my hand finds the throbbing heat of my arousal, what it might feel to be in your place, to have someone look at me with that same confidence, to experience touch imbued with the certainty of one who knows precisely how to elicit pleasure - a knowledge gleaned from centuries, no doubt, of indulgence and conquest.

It’s enough to leave me aching for more than mere observation.

The fervour with which you move against him… it’s hypnotic, each roll of your hips drawing forth increasingly wanton sounds from you both. Astarion's carefully crafted demeanour gives way to something more roguish, a playful daring that glints in his eyes as you rise and fall and rise and fall on his length.

I find my hand instinctively matching your rhythm, every shift and motion, as though I, too, am bound to the undulating tempo that you and Astarion have created.

Gods… what must it be like to be him? To have someone so openly, eagerly drawn to you, meeting every touch with matching fervour? To hold someone close and feel their raw desire, the thrill of each laugh, each gasp, offered without hesitation? I wonder what it must be like to inspire such a response, to be desired so freely, without need for pretence or restraint?

With Mystra, I was ever the pursuer, striving tirelessly to earn even the barest hint of her approval, each moment together feeling like an examination I desperately hoped to pass. But Astarion… well. He needn't chase or convince. Despite his vampiric nature - or perhaps, in part, because of it - he is simply desired, freely given all that I once had to beg for. The inequity of it all would be rather poetic, if it weren't so personally vexing.

“A-ah!”

Your gasp cuts through my ruminations, pulling me back into the scene.

Astarion’s hand has slipped between you, guiding you to that final crescendo with a practised touch. The sight of it is utterly spellbinding: his fingers moving with a precision that speaks to centuries of experience, knowing just where to press, where to linger. The control he exercises over you is enviable, each movement of his hand coaxing you closer to that peak, his attention wholly focused on your reaction, even as your hips rock back and forth on his length with an increasingly frantic, unrestrained urgency.

The way your eyes roll back... Gosh.

The expression on your face, one of pure, unfiltered abandon, is a sight to behold.

Your body trembles as you reach your peak, and a sound - a cry, too loud in the stillness of the night - escapes your lips. Astarion’s palm clamps over your mouth, a futile attempt to muffle you in the throes of your climax. Though he hushes you, his expression suggests that he is not in the least bit concerned. In fact, he seems rather pleased - more than pleased, really. 

There’s a thrill in such a public display for him too, no doubt.

I swallow, the sound almost too loud, my heart pounding against my ribs as though it seeks to betray me. Astarion's head tilts slightly, his gaze flickering to the shadows, and for one heart-stopping moment, I think he has sensed me, that his attention has shifted from you to this invisible interloper, the scholar caught red-handed in his quiet act of voyeurism.

Could he... sense me here, lingering on the fringe of his private moment? Could he smell the stir of my own arousal, feel the faint tremor of my breath as I fight for composure? For several heartbeats, my hand freezes. I dare not even breathe.

But then his attentions return to you, and I breathe a sigh of relief. 

He brings his hands to your hips, holding them firmly in place as he drives himself upwards into you, deeper, with mounting desperation. It seems he seeks to chase his own release, content with the pleasure he has wrought you.

You respond eagerly, pressing closer, your own sounds growing louder, heedless of who might hear, and I can see that thrill in his face - the satisfaction of knowing he’s eliciting every reaction from you, drawing out each gasp, each shudder.

My hand glides hastily across my arousal, my own breathing growing ragged as I watch his control begin to slip. Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his head tips back in pure abandon.

In the final throes, he presses himself against you, buried firmly to the hilt. It’s almost animalistic, all thoughts, all calculated movements, making way for one singular goal: to empty himself into you, filling you with all he has to offer with breaths rugged and low. All composure is stripped, replaced with instinct and pure need.

I find my own movements quickening to match his pace, as though some invisible thread binds us all to this moment. My hand tightens as I lose myself in the same tempo, every sound from you both spurring me closer. The sight of his final shudder, the look of utter satisfaction crossing his face as he reaches that height, is enough to tip me over the edge.

For a heartbeat, the night seems to hold us all in perfect suspension - your quiet gasps, his satisfied murmurs, my own silent echo of shared pleasure - all woven together in this clandestine tableau.

Only then, as the euphoria begins to fade, does a most uncomfortable awareness creep in.

Gods above, what have I... A scholar of worldly acclaim, reduced to voyeur, caught up in base desires like some common... No. Best not to dwell on such things. Though I suspect sleep will prove rather elusive tonight, haunted by questions of propriety and... other matters.

With a groan, I roll onto my back, the orb’s steady throb now a minor annoyance compared to the tangled thoughts that flood my mind. Perhaps I can chalk this entire… incident up to fatigue, a wandering mind, even a fevered dream. Yes, that must be it. The product of a restless night and, possibly, a touch of indigestion. After all, who could believe that I, Gale of Waterdeep, would be brought so low as to... well, that.

As morning light spills across camp, I attempt a façade of normalcy, willing my cheeks to cool and my mind to settle. Just as I convince myself the night’s events were nothing more than a peculiar dream, Astarion sidles up, his expression one of leisurely amusement.

"Restless night, Gale?” he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. His gaze is as sharp as his tone, a knowing glint in his eyes that makes my stomach twist in the most uncomfortable way. "I thought I heard a... stirring from your tent."

The corner of his mouth quirks up in that infuriatingly smug way of his, and I nearly choke on my response. 

He knew. 

Astarion knew. 

I force a cough, pretending to inspect the morning sky.

"A dream," I reply a bit too quickly. "Perhaps the cheese at dinner was... overly ripe."

But Astarion merely chuckles, a wicked sound, before strolling away with a satisfied air. And as I watch him saunter off, I’m left to question just how much of the night was a dream - and how much, mortifyingly, was very, very real.

Masterlist can be found here!

No Pressure Tags: @roguishcat @davenswitcher @silverfangmarks @sparrowbard @chonkercatto @stokzr @trafalgarussy @asterordinary

[scarredwithcruelintentions]

chapter 12: of cursed shadows

Find the master list here!

CW: Act 2 spoilers, traumatic memories and some...*fun*...stuff!

W/C: 5,035

A/N: Hey y'all. It's been a bit. Apologies, life is wild and creativity comes and goes. Hope this was worth the wait!

The group was up and packed a few short hours after Astarion had fallen into his trance in your arms. His consciousness was roused to the sound of you shuffling about the tent, organizing what little had been laid out and re-stocking your daypack with hearthlight bombs and potions of healing. He was in motion, helping you pack and strip the tent, before he had even gathered his wits about himself, so natural this morning routine had become.

Once all was settled and the rest of the group had broken their fast with dried meats and stale bread, they began their trek down to the darkened waters on the outskirts of the myconid camp. Thankfully, both skiffs were moored at the dock, as one alone was not enough to carry the whole of the group. Astarion helped you onto the first one, climbing up shortly after you and jumping across to stand by your side on the second skiff. He and Halsin undid the docking ties and Gale cast an arcane gust of wind to send them on their final venture through the Underdark.

They reached Grymforge in short order, all scampering off the tiny and decrepit vessels onto solid land so as not to disturb whatever might be lurking in those murky depths any further. They made haste to the lift gate, Astarion deftly picking its lock, and took it in two groups to the upper levels of the Sharran ruins. Anticipatory dread continued to build in the pit of his stomach, slowly climbing its frozen tendrils up his throat and rendering his vocal cords useless. He reached out to clasp your hand unthinkingly, and you gave it a reassuring squeeze despite the severity of his expression reflected in yours.

Regrouped and mentally bracing themselves for what lay ahead, the party cautiously trekked forward, Shadowheart lighting the many candles strewn about the dilapidated temple with a flick of her wrist.

“Gale, my boy,” an unfamiliar voice called down from the top landing.

Astarion’s eyes snapped to the man in question as his face paled, hurrying up the last steps to accost the stranger.

“Elminster, what in the bloody Hells are you doing here!” Gale hissed in a whisper.

“I come with ill tidings, a most sacrificial task set forth to you by Mystra herself…”

The wizened old man continued to dawdle nonsensically, and Astarion began to see where Gale had picked up his pattern of speech from.

“For all the gods’ sakes, Elminster, spit it out!” Gale huffed exasperatedly.

“Are all archmages this unnecessarily verbose?” Astarion whispered, low enough that only you could catch the rumble of his voice.

You hid a snicker behind your hand, swatting at him with the other.

“I’m sure I’ve misheard you, Elminster. Mystra wants me to blow myself up when we confront the Absolute?!” Gale shouted incredulously, drawing both Astarion’s and your attention back to the conversation at hand.

“No, my dear boy, I’m afraid you’ve heard me perfectly. This is the only way to appease Mystra, this one final, impossible task bestowed upon you, as she knows only you are capable of completing it.”

“And this will surely regain her favor?” Gale questioned, a look of resignation blanketing his features.

“I’m sorry, pardon my interruption,” you spoke up, “but Gale is decidedly NOT going to blow himself up, especially not for the goddess who spurned him.”

Elminster’s shrewd gaze landed on you, sizing you up, as Gale began to splutter objections.

“Yes, I do believe you’ve heard me perfectly. I vote against this drastic measure. Are there any who would care to back me up?” you asked, cocking a hip out and crossing your arms in a defensive pose.

There was a resounding chorus of ‘no’s and ‘absolutely not’s, Astarion begrudgingly throwing his hat in with the rest of the naysayers. Though the wizard could be infuriatingly dense at times, he couldn’t imagine sacrificing himself for the forgiveness of an ex-lover, no matter the cost. And if it was not something Astarion would willingly do, he’d not ask it of his friend.

Gale stood, dumbstruck, looking at the group with glassy eyes as a choice was laid before him. Mystra’s blessing at the expense of his life, or his freedom and friendship at the expense of her favor. Astarion hoped, for his sake, that he would be intelligent enough to choose the latter, as it had so far proved a more rewarding road.

“Elminster, you have given me much to think on. I make you no promises, but I will consider Mystra’s request,” he said curtly.

The mighty wizard sighed, breathing an incantation over Gale to still the ever-restless orb in his chest, and with a final brief nod, he vanished from sight.

Gale opened his mouth to speak - to thank you or protest - but you stopped him before any words could flow out.

“There will be no reconsidering of these terms, Gale. Your life is worth far more than that of your Goddess’s blessing. If not to you, to us. We need you in this fight. Please remember this,” you said resolutely, if not a little desperately.

Gale’s jaw promptly snapped shut, a grimace of shame schooling his features.

“Besides, there are plenty more lovely goddesses for you to bed in her stead, Gale,” Astarion quipped from beside you.

You jabbed an elbow into his ribs, an oof sound punching past his lips. Gale glanced slyly at him, and though his brows were drawn in distaste, a smirk played at the corners of the man’s lips, betraying his amusement.

“Come on,” you said, stepping forward to take Gale’s arm in yours, “we have much yet to do today.”

Though the green monster in Astarion’s gut could not be quelled completely, he was overwhelmed with a tender fondness at your actions. No matter the obstacle, you stood proudly and defied all odds, choosing the safety and happiness of your companions above all else.

How he adored the many facets he’d come to know of you. ______________________________________________________________

The Shadow Cursed Lands were everything that Halsin had described and then some. The otherworldly, inky shadows seemed to consume all light and heat, creating the atmosphere Astarion assumed the abyssal void of the heavens to be. The rays of the sun did not penetrate the dense clouds of shadow over the land, and he found himself remiss without their guiding light. That, and the gnawing hunger in the pit of his belly, continued to draw his attention from the danger at hand. 

Though he was unbothered by the cold, he could not shake the feeling of being stalked by the darkness itself. He was unused to the sensation of being prey, especially when enveloped by the shroud of false night, but it hunted him nonetheless, setting his teeth on edge. He held his torch high and stuck close by your side for want to protect you from the encroaching shadows. Ever the fearless leader, you showed no outward signs of unease. It was only the telltale quickened pace of your heart, a sound only he was keen enough to hear, that betrayed your fear.

Some ways away, the sound of snapping branches and the scuffing of boots echoed through the hazy darkness, followed by the dimmed glow of torchlight. You dropped into a crouch on instinct, the others following suit. However, you were not fast enough, and whoever stood on the other side of the veil of shadow called out for you to show yourself.

As you raised to stand, hands held aloft placatingly, a monstrous shadow emerged and dragged one of the other party’s travelers, kicking and screaming, into the brush and far from any source of light.

“Yonas, follow my voice! Come back to the light!” the woman, presumably the leader, cried frantically.

A piercing shriek lit the atmosphere, and the man, Yonas, emerged from beneath the thorny thickets of dead shrubbery. However, the man that had been dragged from the group was no more. In his place stood a herald of the curse’s power, some vile and abhorrent mockery of the man that once was, his body infused with the sickening magic of undeath. Tendrils of inky darkness spanned his form in vein-like clusters, the occasional green glow of necromancy threading through them.

The undead traveler took a vicious swipe at his once leader, who, in her unpreparedness, was caught off guard and bore the full force of it. Astarion watched as the energy was sapped from her with that single blow, watched the great effort it took for her to remain upright. Suddenly, the shadows around them began to writhe and take form, all enclosing on their position. The whole of the group, strangers included, formed a circle with their backs to the center, Shadowheart calling on the aid of radiant spirit guardians to shield them from the onslaught of living shadow.

Encircled by the divine light of her spell, the group began hacking, slashing and casting with reckless abandon. Karlach swung Lathander’s Blood in great, sweeping arcs, blinding all nearby shadow and undead creatures. Shadowheart continued to dole out guiding bolts of radiant damage, illuminating whatever otherworldly foes the dancing spirit guardians did not. You discovered that even the shadows were weakened by the clutches of fear, casting a series of disembodied, chittering voices at them.

Though the group worked in tandem and made good progress in the battle, they were overwrought by the sheer number of shadow creatures, and soon they began to tire. With one final burst of effort, Shadowheart casted to turn all undead in their vicinity, their shrieks of agony as they were incinerated with divine light echoing in the abyssal darkness surrounding them.

“You’re fine company to keep in a fight,” the woman, a Harper by the looks of her, panted.

“As are you,” you spoke breathlessly back. 

You offered her a perfunctory greeting and introduction, with her responding in kind.

“Do you have a camp?”

You shook your head, taking down great gulps of the frigid air as you caught your breath.

“Let me see your map,” she said brusquely, snatching the well-worn parchment from your hands as you fumbled with it and making a mark a short distance away.

“There’s an inn nearby, protected from the clutches of the curse. S’not much, but it’s safe. We hope to see you there,” she rushed out, turning to leave before thinking better of it, “A word of caution. Do not venture further into the shadows. Your torch may protect you here, but the deeper into these accursed lands you get, the hungrier the shadows become. You don’t want to end up like Yonas.”

She cast one final glance at the crumbled pile of ash that was once her traveling companion and spun on her heel, the other Harpers following her at a breakneck pace through the darkness.

“Well,” you panted, “shall we see what secrets this inn holds for us?” ______________________________________________________________

The party was met with the stony suspicion of the Harper leader at the bridge to Last Light Inn. Astarion cried out in dismay when the elven druid wrapped you in a series of entangling vines, waxing poetic about cultist interlopers interfering in Harper business, and how she had half a mind to kill you on the spot.

“Kill me and you lose your best shot at taking down Thorm. I may be tadpoled, but I am not some mindless thrall under the Absolute’s influence,” you retorted cheekily.

“It is not possible; how could you, a simple mortal, be powerful enough to resist the voice of the Absolute? I do not believe you.”

With one hand still raised in placation, you drew the Astral Prism from a pocket of your bag, the thing coming to life with an unearthly hum as it was suspended just above your palm. The tadpole in the druid woman’s jar fell silent, no longer squirming to be near its kin. Her eyes darted back and forth between the artifact in your hand and the dormant illithid tadpole in the jar, discerning the truthfulness of your words. 

Just then, Mol appeared to corroborate your story, unwittingly saving the group from a potentially disastrous end. The elf exchanged looks with the Harper woman that had led you to the inn, and with a wave of her hand, the vines disappeared. You stumbled back into Astarion’s chest, the Astral Prism falling into your palm with a deceivingly heavy thunk.

“Well, it looks as though I have read you all wrong. I have many questions, but far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth. Come, follow me inside. We have much to discuss,” the woman said gruffly.

She promptly turned and strode into the inn, Mol making a quip about getting even to you. You thanked the little tiefling girl graciously, and then looked between your companions, a question held in the weight of your gaze. With a shrug, you followed the druid into the inn proper. 

The group dispersed, not all deeming it necessary to follow you. Karlach meandered her way to the forge, pulling the infernal iron she’d collected from her pack as she went. Gale and Wyll went to the storemaster, their coin purses in hand, along with whatever items they were willing to trade. Halsin made his way inside ahead of you, beelining for the infirmary with a mumbled platitude about having ‘business to attend to.’ Shadowheart turned her nose up at the moon magic surrounding the inn and refused to move any further, which you rolled your eyes at. Lae’zel seated herself on the crumbling fountain wall, pulling her whetstone from her bag and proceeding to sharpen her blade.

That left you and Astarion to heed the druid’s call, and though he was not overly fond of the woman in question, her having threatened his ticket to safety, he was not about to break his promise to you. He strode by your side, keeping your form within his peripheral vision at all times. Something cold and sharp churned in his gut, the foreboding feeling of danger yet to come, and he’d be damned if he let any harm come to you.

When they stepped inside, he smelled it instantly. The stench of ash and brimstone, of death and destruction. You began the conversation with the druid woman, Jaheira, she was called, but he was hard pressed to follow along. He found his eyes wandering to the devil playing lanceboard with the little tiefling girl, the smarmy smirk of a cat cornering a trapped mouse drawing his features into a harsh and predatory smile. 

Without thinking, he gravitated toward the two, a maelstrom of questions swirling through his mind. Was he truly prepared to make a deal with a devil to end Cazador’s reign over his person? He wasn’t even sure vampires had souls to offer, and he found himself quickly running short of options that might interest the devil.

I could bed him.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a shudder of disgust wracked his frame, drawing the devil’s attention.

“I sense you have something to ask me, my toothsome friend,” he purred, smirk widening into something dangerous.

“What do you know of Cazador Szarr, devil?” he questioned, uncertainty coloring his voice.

“The vampire lord in Baldur’s Gate? Plenty, including the meaning of those pretty scars you carry.”

Astarion blanched just as you meandered into his peripheral vision.

“What about scars?”

“I see! You haven’t been half as forthcoming as I would have expected, darling Star,” the devil mocked.

“What do you know of my scars!” Astarion shouted, drawing the eyes of all of the inn’s patrons.

“I will tell you, in due time, my vampiric friend,” he murmured, and with a snap of his fingers, he disappeared in a puff of acrid smoke.

Astarion slowly turned his eyes to meet yours, expecting to find questions written in the lines of your expression. While he did find a sad kind of curiosity in the weight of your gaze, it was overshadowed by your compassion for his plight. You did not say a single word, merely held your arms open for him to curl into. He crossed the gap in two great strides, folding into you with a heavy sigh.

“There is something I must -” he began, but you shushed him gently.

“You need not share anything you do not wish to,” you whispered, stroking through his curls.

The two stood in reverent silence for a moment, swaying with the ambient sounds of life within the inn. He lost himself in the rhythmic sound of your heartbeat, the supple softness of your skin, the familiar scent of the soap used to cleanse your hair.

Then, an idea struck him. If words were to fail him, he could simply show you.

“Darling,” he breathed, “would you accompany me to the riverside, so we may wash up before we take our rest?”

He pulled back to look at you fully, and though a bloom of scarlet flooded your features, you nodded resolutely, urging him to show you the way. ______________________________________________________________

Under the protection of the Selunite spell and by the light of the waxing moon, Astarion shed his armor, both physically and metaphorically. You followed his lead, removing your adamantine plate and tossing it none too gently into the haplessly strewn pile of clothing. Shortly, you were left in nothing but your night shift, the material far too thin for the unnaturally cold atmosphere. 

Astarion stopped to marvel at the way your skin prickled with gooseflesh, toying with the laces of his chemise. You crossed your arms over your chest, alerting him to the fact that you’d caught him staring. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, turning his back to you and pulling the chemise over his head.

He registered the sound of a breathless gasp, a horrified, “Oh, my love,” barely audible over the rush of white noise in his ears. He took several calming breaths, willing away his urge to flee and hide from your no doubt piteous gaze.

“May I?” you asked, sounding closer than before, and he startled momentarily.

He clenched his hands into fists, knuckles going white with the strain as he nodded his assent.

The first caress of your fingertips over the marred flesh was both too much and not enough. You traced the pattern of his scars, the memory of their carving playing on a torturous loop in his mind’s eye. He whimpered at the feeling, the featherlight brush of your fingertips translating as blazing pain as he recalled that fateful night.

“Did you know that he’d carved infernal runes into you?”

“Well, I’d rather guessed as much at the devil’s words, but…no. I never knew what it was. All I knew was that he’d branded me, denoted me as his pet,” he shuddered.

“Would you like to see?” you murmured.

He turned to look at you, hesitation apparent in both his posture and expression.

“I…I’m not sure. I’ve carried these marks for nearly two centuries, never once knowing what they looked like. I don’t know if I want to see the cruelty he so brazenly bestowed upon me.”

“Then you need not know,” you intoned simply.

“How - how would you presume to show me?” he asked, apprehensive.

“I would draw the symbols in the earth at our feet.”

Astarion took a deep, steadying breath.

“Show me.”

You glanced at him one last time for reassurance, then knelt at his back. He could hear the sweeping arcs your finger made through the silt of the riverbank, drawing the likeness of his scars so that he might finally know just what torture he carried with him.

When you were finished, you stood, taking a step back. He turned, cautiously, to face you, eyes slowly roving down your form to the dirt in front of you. He took in a sharp breath, riveted to the loops and swirls that you had only just traced along his own skin.

“You know,” he intoned, “if I forget the abuse that created this pattern, it almost has a kind of poetic beauty to it.”

“Do you recognize it at all?”

“Not a bit, darling. It could be anything; the only way we’ll know is if the devil tells us.”

“I would be careful if I were you, Astarion. Devils have ulterior motives. You can’t trust him,” you muttered gravely.

“I know, my sweet, but what other choice do I have?” he asked sadly.

You stepped forward into his space, planting a solid foot in the scrollwork of his scars etched into the riverbank as you enveloped him in your arms again.

“I trust that you know what you are doing,” you murmured against his chest.

“I hope you are right,” he replied, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head.

He inhaled your scent deeply, taking in the quiet calm of the moment. However, it did not last long, the telltale spasming pain of his hunger wracking through him with a wince.

“You haven’t eaten since the mountain pass,” you stated.

“What on earth gives you that idea?” he asked, barely hiding his grimace of discomfort.

“You cannot lie to me, my Star. We have spent most nights since in each others’ embrace, and you have not left once to hunt.”

“Fine, you are right. I have not eaten since.”

“What’s it been, a tenday? Why haven’t you said anything?” you scolded.

“You are more than my meal ticket, darling. We need you healthy and well more than we need me,” he whispered, self deprecation evident in his voice and words.

“Don’t you ever say such a thing again,” you hissed vehemently, “Do you have any idea how distraught I’d be if I were to lose you?”

At a loss for words, Astarion merely shook his head.

“I would lose myself if I lost you.”

The weight of your words hit him like a blow to the gut, punching a needy sound from him. He pulled you forward, knocking you off balance as his lips mashed to yours in a feverish kiss. He broke it quickly, striding to sit at the base of a tall tree. He widened the spread of his legs to make space for your frame to fit between them, patting his thighs at the question in your gaze. Your heartbeat quickened and the rosy flush of your desire deepend to a scandalized scarlet.

Nevertheless, you obeyed.

Shuffling into place, you pressed your back snugly to the solid planes of his chest and leaned your head against his shoulder, baring your neck to him. He swept the tendrils of your hair back, allowing his fingers to trace your delicate flesh in a cool caress as he did so. You squirmed in his lap, hands fisting in the material of his breeches at the thighs, fanning the embers of desire pooling low in his belly into flames.

He wrapped one arm around your middle and the other across your chest, palm resting on your shoulder as his thumb traced your collarbone, pulling you tighter to him. You gasped as he ran the tip of his nose along the line of your jaw and then down the column of your throat, inhaling deeply at your pulse point. His lips retraced the path up your neck and to your earlobe, pulling on it gently with his teeth.

He did not stop to question the enjoyment he took from making you writhe, instead losing himself to the rhythmic squeezing of your hands at his thighs, the steady drum of your heart and your warmth pressed close to him.

He placed wet, open-mouthed kisses back down the line of your throat, listening intently to the way your pulse picked up speed again and your breath came in short, hard pants. He licked a stripe back up to your pulse point in a final teasing motion, and groaned at the salty tang of your skin.

“Are you ready?” he murmured against your neck, more vibration than sound.

“As I’ll ever be,” you breathed, hands squeezing tight over his thighs.

His fangs sank home into your artery, reopening the mostly healed puncture wounds from his first feeding. He could taste the desire in your blood more thoroughly this time, and though he took small pulls, he knew he would never get enough of it. He imagined it was comparable to the chocolate sweets mortals loved so much, rich and filling and oh-so-addictive.

He had every intention of pacing himself, of savoring the moment, until he heard a moan escape your lips. Involuntarily, he answered with one of his own, and he began to lap greedily at the blood spurting from the wounds in your neck. He could feel the aborted rocking motions of your hips as you pressed impossibly closer to him, and it was all he could do to not rip your throat out. 

He moved his hands to grab your hips, encouraging you to push back into the telltale tightness of his breeches, delighting in the drag of your plush bottom against him. He moaned in unison with you, pushing against you in time with the pulls he took of your blood.

Though he could still taste the lust in your bloodstream, he could also feel the trembling of your body, chilly with the shock of blood loss, and the hands squeezing his thighs became steadily weaker in their grip. He pulled away from your neck, chest heaving with the effort it took and the arousal alight in him.

You whimpered at the loss of him, and he indulged both you and himself further by lapping at the sluggishly leaking marks of his fangs. He felt you remove your hands from his thighs, continuing to lick at you as you pulled the amulet from between your breasts.

“You little minx,” he chuckled, licking up the final droplets spilling down your neck.

You giggled deliriously and breathed the incantation, cupping it in your palms. It worked instantly, restoring the warmth and color to your skin. You hastily dropped the amulet, craning your neck to plant a sloppy kiss on his lips. He moaned in surprise, lips parting as your tongue swiped along their seam, uncaring of the blood still staining them. 

He lifted one hand to cradle the back of your head, the other anchoring itself at your waist as he leaned into you, shifting his weight as he gently laid you down. Your warm palms came up to cup his face, running your tongue across the razor sharp tip of his fang, and he groaned as he sucked the blood from the wound. 

You continued to kiss him messily, crimson tinged saliva smearing your swollen lips, until you were positively gasping for air. He pulled away, giving you space to catch your breath, to find a faintly pink string of your shared enthusiasm still connecting him to you. Like a man possessed, he dove back down to mouth wetly at your jaw and down your throat, licking over his bite mark once more.

“Astarion,” you panted, but he could barely hear you over the rush of your blood in his ears. He continued to kiss his way down, sucking small marks into the supple skin of your bosom.

“Astarion,” you called down, a little louder this time, pulling his face away from your chest and up to catch his eyes.

“I would have you right now, if you’d let me,” he growled, pressing his hips down and reveling in the delicious friction of meeting yours. You bucked back up into him with a surprised gasp, but ultimately shook your head.

Through the haze of lust clouding his vision, he tried to discern your hesitation. This was the first time he could recall actually wanting someone, let alone as badly as he wanted you. He pushed his hips into you again with a wanton sound, but you did not lift yours to meet him this time. He closed his eyes in dejected frustration, whimpering.

“Look at me, please,” you intoned.

His eyes opened slowly, focusing on the warmth in yours. It wasn’t heat, per se, that he felt in your gaze, but that of the pleasant fuzzy sensation that he couldn’t quite put a name to. Your thumb brushed over the apple of his cheek reverently.

“There’s no need to rush,” you smiled coyly.

“We could be mindflayers tomorrow,” he countered.

“We could, or we could not. Would you rather do this now and regret it later?”

He was annoyed to find that you had a point.

“But I want you like I’ve never wanted anything,” he whined, cinching his eyes shut with a pained expression.

“And I you, sweet Star, but not like this. Not in the haze of bloodlust, with all caution thrown to the wind. No, I want you when you are ready.”

He whined again, mouth prepared to open in protest, but stilled at your next words.

“When I am ready,” you whispered, voice small.

His eyes snapped open, and he caught a glimpse of his own fear in yours. All of his desire, his need, halted instantly as he recalled your own plight.

“Of course, darling,” he breathed, placing a chaste kiss upon your lips and touching his forehead to yours in a show of quiet affection. You hummed your approval, content to lay like that with him for a while.

After some time, he insisted that the two of you get up to wash the dried blood and spit from your faces so as not to draw too much attention back at camp.

“Let them stare,” you smirked mischievously. “I know you’d take great pleasure in their jealousy.”

He laughed heartily at your devious smile, feeling light with contentment.

However, he could not silence the alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind that this was not a part of the plan, and he was venturing out into unfamiliar territory at significant risk to himself.

As the two of you walked back to camp in companionable silence, he could not help the panic that stirred in his chest.

What am I doing?

[eluvisen]

Truce

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3

Characters: Karlach/Tav

Rating: T

Summary: It may or may not be a mistake falling in with these lunatics, but at least they look like fun. And one of them in particular looks like fun.

(Karlach’s first night in camp, as told by her.)

Notes: Written for Femslash February 2024. Prompt: once upon a time.

—

Wreathed in smoke and infernal fire, Karlach laughs as the tollhouse burns. Gouts of fire tower on all sides, devouring everything in their path and scorching her throat with every breath. But the inferno is fucking nothing compared to the hellfire inside her. The engine shudders behind her ribs, its vibrations ribboning down her torso and all the way through her guts, so hot and furious it feels like someone poured the magma from one of Avernus’s volcanoes directly into her chest.

With several swings of her axe and a swift kick, she bashes through the debris blocking the door. But past the shower of cinders and ash, the sky is blue. The sky is blue, and when she steps outside, the air is clean.

To her surprise, that gang of adventurers are waiting around. Away from the flames, mind, but waiting.

Karlach strides over, greataxe resting on her shoulder. The metal burns, but she burns hotter. “Hope you didn’t take much of a scorching in there. I had to let off some steam after facing those imp-fuckers.”

The engine thunders in her chest, feeling like a burr made of lava that she can’t cough out. Bloody thing isn’t cooling down. Seems it isn’t made to work outside Avernus, which means she needs to find an infernal mechanic. Fast. 

The rogue smiles at her without showing his teeth. “Only mild burns and the immediate threat of immolation, darling.” There’s something about him that makes her want to keep him in sight at all times, and not just for the safety of her coin purse. He isn’t infernal, she can tell that much. Maybe it’s his hair putting her off. “I don’t suppose you’ll reimburse us for spilling their guts on your behalf?”

Karlach snorts. “You didn’t kill them for me, you killed them with me. And I’m afraid I left my soul coins in Avernus. Could give you a hug if you wanted, though.”

His smile twists into something darker. “What a pity. I hear soul coins are especially valuable currency, and this isn’t a charity.”

“Strange,” says the walking fringe. She stays at the edges like a regular cleric, but there’s something… tricky about her. Yeah, that’s the word. Tricky. “I thought we were a charity. Why else would you be here, Astarion?”

Rhodeia, meanwhile, wears the perfectly pleasant expression of someone who’s mentally screaming into the Abyss. Making firm eye contact with Karlach, she says, “Since we all need a cure for these mind flayer parasites, you’re welcome to come with us.”

The rest of the party look just as loony. The githyanki undoubtedly draws eyes, and it’s a tossup whether her bloody huge greatsword or her scowl is the scarier weapon in her arsenal. Then there’s good man Gale. If he couldn’t conjure such a wicked scorching ray, she’d assume he’s a lost librarian. Or maybe libraries are more interesting places than she thought. At least the Blade of Frontiers is pointing his namesake elsewhere, although he sure doesn’t look pleased by current events. She’ll have to keep an eye on him. 

All in all? A group of miserable, argumentative misfits.

Gods, to be one of them.

Karlach opens her mouth. Hesitates. “There’s no contract, is there?”

“No,” Rhodeia answers, so perfectly startled that either she means it or she could give Flo a run for her coins. 

“Then fuck yes I’m in.”

Rhodeia smiles, and her expression is brilliantly, unnervingly genuine-looking. She has to be a half-elf—she’s got the ears, but her features are just a little too blunt to be a timeless beauty. Not to say she isn’t a looker, with freckles dusting her light brown skin and plump lips. In the sunlight, Karlach notices for the first time that Rhodeia’s eyes are a dusty mauve, as pretty as cut gems—definitely inherited those from the elven parent—and matching the hair falling down her back in intricate braids. Pale tattooed vines frame her face and curl invitingly down her neck to the collar of her leathers, raising the question of just how far they go down, exactly.

But that is a question best left uncontemplated for now. Karlach hangs her greataxe on her back and sweeps an arm at the road before them. “Let’s move, eh? Time’s wasting.”

When the party sets off, Karlach falls in with them. Behind her, the tollhouse burns.

[Read on AO3]

[itsthatpearl]

Layout idea from @secret-smut-sideblog 🩸

Previous chapter

Astarion x F!OC

Dawn of Love

Chapter 4: Take Me Back To Eden

AO3 LINK

Aura and Astarion get help from a stranger that is up to no good

Word count: 1.7k

Janna once again beta read this <3

TRIGGERS: talk about past trauma, Raphael is an asshole, oral sex (F!receiving), mentions of sex, kissing, FLUFF, angst, drama.

----

The room was empty with only a few beds neatly made, Gale’s was amongst them. The sun was shining through the curtains casting lazy beams across the room. 

I absentmindedly gripped the silver hair that clung to my thigh, which was slick with sweat and other bodily fluids.

“Oh gods, yes …oh gods, don’t stop Astarion!” I moaned breath hitching as the rogue was taking me to my fourth orgasm that morning. His mouth worked me relentlessly, drawing me closer and closer to the edge.

He muttered something inaudible in between licking, not that I could’ve heard him over the slick sounds of his fingers gliding in and out of me and my own desperate moans. I took his hand into mine and squeezed it as I climaxed moaning loudly. Thank gods this room is far away from the main hall.

Astarion shifted to kiss my lips.

“Darling, you are lucky none of our companions dare to enter this room or the area around it during this time of the day” he purred.

I smiled in pure bliss and kissed his cheek.

“Do you want me to…do something nice to you?” I asked carefully. Everything was still a bit confusing to say the least. For a few days we had been sleeping with each other, but it was always him in control. I wanted to give Astarion time to trust me, so I didn’t push it much.

This time, like always, he just kissed me and smirked.

“I think we’ve had enough fun, though you are delicious. You need to eat, and you said last night that we need to continue our journey” he purred.

I nodded and stood up.

“Yeah. You are right” I smiled slightly. I just wished he would open himself up to me. But I couldn’t rush it. He needed time.

We walked downstairs together. Halsin greeted us and smiled at me warmly. Maybe they haven’t heard us at all.

“ Tsk’va , we’ve been waiting for you two” Lae’zel pouted, clearly irritated.

“And now we are here” Astarion chuckled. “How fitting, shall we?” he gestured at the door.

“Not yet. There is someone who wants to see you two” Shadowheart frowned.

“Us?” I glanced at Astarion.

“Yes, you two” a man said behind our companions. He was middle-aged, a human by the looks. “Shall we speak somewhere more private?”

We stood in a quiet corner of the inn.

“Let me introduce myself, my name is Raphael” the man purred, taking my hand into his and placing a soft kiss on it. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Ashthorn” he smirked.

How the fuck does this man know my name?

“Quit it, devil. What business do you have with us?” Astarion’s eyes narrowed.

Devil? Is this man THE devil himself?

“Oh my little vampling, I am here merely to help you ” he grinned at Astarion, unbothered.

I blinked.

“How can you help Astarion?” I asked.

“I can read what story his back tells” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“What do you want in return?” Astarion’s expression hardened.

Raphael’s lips turned into a wicked smile.

“Nothing big, nothing you couldn't provide me” he purred.

“State your price” Astarion said.

Raphael’s gaze fixed into me.

“One night” he said with a low, seductive tone.

“No” Astarion shook his head.

“One night… with me ?” I asked confused.

“No. She won’t do it” Astarion said.

"That’s my price" Raphael said with a shrug. "Take it or leave it”.

I straightened my posture.

"I’ll do it” I nodded.

Astarion grabbed my arm. 

"I can’t let you-" he started, but I turned to him and took his hand in mine.

"I need to, Astarion. If he knows what Cazador did to you…if he knows how to stop him…we can’t pass this up” I shook my head.

Astarion looked torn, his grip tightening.

“So? Do we have a deal?” Raphael grinned offering his hand.

“Yes” I nodded and shook it.

“Excellent. Now, shall we see that back of yours?” Raphael raised a brow at Astarion.

I could see Astarion was angry. Still he obliged and took his shirt off.

“A deal between Mephistopheles and Cazador” he smirked.

“A deal?” I asked.

“Yes. With that Cazador knows how to ascend. If he completes the ritual, he will become the most powerful vampire ever to walk on ground. A vampire ascendant will be able to be in sunlight. The price of the ritual contains a sacrifice of a multitude of souls. You, my dear vampling, are the last missing piece, your back is your destiny” he grinned.

I looked at Astarion in horror.

“That’s all I have to tell you. I’ll collect my payment later" he smirked and kissed the back of my hand once again before vanishing into thin air.

After a moment I looked at the rogue next to me.

“I can't believe you would do that for me” Astarion shook his head.

“A small price to be paid. Now we know what we needed to know” I tried to smile.

“Eventually I need to fight Cazador” Astarion sighed.

I stared him quietly.

“I will be there by your side, if you let me” I whispered after a beat.

Astarion took my hand and nodded.

“I want nothing more” he whispered.

We walked for hours after leaving the inn, the group quieter than usual, each of us lost in thought. Only the crunch of boots on earth and the whisper of the wind accompanied us.

“We should place our camp here, it’s getting dark” I told everyone. 

After a bit the camp was set and Gale was cooking for everyone with Karlach on his side telling him some kind of a story. Wyll and Halsin had gone on a walk, Lae’zel and Shadowheart were in their own tents. Astarion had gone hunting. I was sitting on a log reading a book.

“My my, you look beautiful in the dim light” a voice purred right next to my ear sending a shiver down my spine.

I turned to look at Raphael.

“Let’s get it over with” I sighed.

He tutted.

“Miss Ashthorn, you are so cold, even when your cold beloved isn't next to you” he smirked, offering his hand to me.

I sighed and took it, and in a blink of an eye we were transported to a lavish bedroom.

“Where the in the hells are we?” I asked.

“Exactly there, my darling. Now, get on the bed” he purred.

I looked at the bed and walked next to it. The duvet was dark red, made from the finest silk. I sat down on it taking a deep breath.

Raphael gave me a glass of red wine.

“Thank you” I muttered and took a sip. The rich taste flooded into my mouth. It was the best wine I had ever tried.

“Now, tell me your deepest desires, my little elf” he purred while studying me. “What do you want most in this miserable world?” he smirked.

I looked at him quietly.

“I…I want to help Astarion” I said after a beat.

Raphael’s smirk grew wider.

“Excellent. I will help you full-fill it” he purred.

I raised a brow, suspicion sneaking into my body.

“Help me? Why?” I asked.

“Let’s just say, I admire your devotion towards him” Raphael said as he swirled his wine. "But here’s the catch: you can’t tell Astarion what you learn from me” he added with a grin.

I looked at him and after a beat I nodded.

“Astarion will fight Cazador and try to become the ascendant himself” Raphael purred. “You need to help him become one” he added.

I blinked surprised.

“Why?”

“Because if he doesn’t ascend, he will always be cursed to live in the shadows. And you, my dear, will die after a few short centuries, leaving him alone” Raphael said.

I stared at him in silence.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

“I do” I whispered.

“Good. Now, I will send you back to your camp” he smirked.

“Wait what?” I asked confused. “What about the night with me?”

“Eager for it?” Raphael laughed out loud. “My little elf, I never said what would happen during it” he added, and with a snap of his fingers I was back on the log I was sitting on earlier. “Aura?!” I heard a familiar voice call from behind me.

Halsin ran towards me and hugged me.

“We were worried sick! Where have you been?” he asked.

“I was in hell with the devil” I started and stood up. “Where- where’s Astarion?!”

I entered Astarion’s tent quietly, peeking inside.

"May I come in?" I asked softly.

He sat in the darkness, his red eyes glowing faintly, watching me. I could feel the tension between us, thick and suffocating.

“He didn’t touch me, Astarion” I said.

He didn’t move.

“He fooled you, he wanted to make you jealous. Hells , he is the devil. We should’ve both known he was bluffing” I sat next to him.

For a moment we sat there quietly.

“What are we, Astarion?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Nothing.

“We aren’t dating. As far as I know, we are only sleeping with each other. I don’t know what you want, I don’t think you know what you want either” I shook my head.

Still nothing. Alright .

“Fine. I am tired of you pretending to like me, because if you did, you would be by my side, not giving…whatever this silent treatment is!” I shook my head frustrated. “You have been playing with me since the beginning” I stood up to leave.

Then cold fingers wrapped around my wrists and the darkness yanked me to sit on their lap.

Astarion’s lips kissed mine, but not in the way they used to. The kiss was soft, caring even. I melted in seconds into it as he wrapped his ams around me.

“Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me” he said. “It was easy, instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you...which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart”.

I looked at the two faintly glowing eyes and I could see they weren’t completely dry.

“You…you’re incredible” he said.

I held my breath.

“You deserve something real. I want us to be something real ” he said before kissing me again.

[thedawningofthehour]

My doth theory is that this whole exploding collar thing will backfire real soon and someone important on Draxum side will end up in it (or perhaps someone from turtles side will get stuck in it?? Idk someone important will get stuck in it). Reasons why I think that:

1. Putting a bomb ON A COLLAR feels like something important. Like collar is such a visual way of doing it. It draws attention to itself

2. Idk I rewatched Evangelion Rebuild movies maybe like 3 months ago so Explosive collars made me think of it and DSS chockers so now I'm overanalysing these stupid collars

3. Tiger Claw did describe Gale getting kidnapped as "Prople wanting to see him in a collar" or something like that so maybe????

4. That's it I'm used to the fact that if it's a collar then it's propably important and if not, then at least they will let the main character wear it for a while. Like it's both visually striking and propably looks not that complicated. Perfect and easy to remember. Ofcourse you would want to put one of your main characters in it, so now people buy chockers made to look like it on ali express for cosplay.

I doubt that will actually happen, like litearlly my only lead that it will is one line that most likley means nothing, and I'm more than anything just joking about how putting something on a collar feels like a memorable visual that propably will be at least a bit imporant. And main character will wear it for a hot second to make it cosplay worthy (like litearlly in evangelion in span of 2 movies, three different main characters wore it, one at the time with the last one not even leading to much as it got just removed off her. Like she could just put her mech on autodestruct or something for it to be turned off, but nope. Collar)

Explosive collars are a pretty common trope-it even has its own TVTropes page. (not linking for people like me who will lose whole nights to it) Battle Royale used them too, and if you're a fan of The Hunger Games (new movie just came out, anyone seen it yet?) Battle Royale is absolutely a fun read.

The ones I was thinking of, however, are the slave collars from the Fallout series.

(I mean, are you fucking surprised it's Fallout-inspired?)

In the lore of Fallout, these were used in prisons and detention camps, especially on Chinese prisoners, and potentially developed for use on laborers to keep them working and obedient. (hey, it's good satire if it hits close to home) After the Great War, they were quickly co-opted by slavers. They function as an in-game enslaving mechanic, so the game doesn't have to script a whole slave-driving sequence of you leading your slaves back to slaver HQ-you literally just slap the collar on and they'll deliver themselves. It's kind of a chilling aspect of life in the wasteland, the casual cheapness and disregard for human life. Oh, and the whole Dead Money DLC where you get a bomb collar and have to navigate a resort and casino while dodging corrosive gas and radios that will interfere with your collar and set it off prematurely.

The collars that Draxum wants aren't as shoddy, and he would mostly want them for people who are around his son/responsible for keeping him safe when he's out of the house. Because he's going to have to do that at some point. He can't trust anyone's loyalty or bravery-but he can trust that they'll do everything in their power to protect him if they know their heads will be blown off the moment Galois's heart stops.

And yeah, the visual is important. The symbolism is important. A collar is inherently demeaning, demoralizing, a literal grip around one of the most important parts of your body. There's actually a guy in New Vegas that will talk about how he intentionally puts slave collars on a little too tight so it bites into a slave's neck and constantly reminds them what they are.

But at the same time, it's a barbaric tool. It would not be good PR for everyone to see Draxum's minions with these around their necks, nor would it particularly endear said minions to him. Also worth noting-slave collars are common in art and fiction because they're effective symbols of slavery, but in real life slaves usually didn't wear collars. Because slaveowners didn't want their slaves seeing how many of them there actually were and rising up against their masters. For those of you who've read ASOIAF, remember that Astapor (and to an extent Meereen) did not fall to Dany's forces or even her dragons, but to the very slaves they trained and sold.

(Draxum's heard way more about Game of Thrones than he ever cares to know)

In short-Draxum knows what he's doing, and he intends to use this tool sparingly, but wisely.

The way you phrase this implies that someone is going to cosplay my shitty fic. Though I do feel like it will be fanart opportunity.

[your-divine-ribs]

No Nut November Part 1

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: SMUT! You help your boyfriend Van uncover his secret submissive side… ❤️

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

"What the hell did you just say?"

You're sitting in the pub with your boyfriend, huddled in closely in a small booth. You were only nipping in for a quick pint, but one pint had turned into two, which had then inevitability turned into three... and now the table in front of you is littered with glasses and you've lost count.

You don't reply straight away, giggling to yourself as you take a sip of your lager. Van eyes you with amusement over the top of his glass as he also takes a swallow.

"I said No Nut November!" You announce suddenly, and your voice comes out a lot louder than expected, travelling cross the crowded pub, drawing the attention from an elderly chap propping up the bar.

Van's eyes widen and he swallows the mouthful of lager too quickly, a hand shooting up to his mouth as he starts coughing and spluttering violently in between gales of laughter.

"What... the fuck... even... is that?" He manages in between laughing and practically choking on his drink.

You're laughing too at his comical reaction, and now you're both so loud that you've also caught the eye of a middle-aged couple sitting in the booth next to you. They eye you distastefully but you're too inebriated to care now, you're having way too much fun.

"The clue's kind of in the name..." you say, placing your empty glass down on to the table, enjoying the way Van's face scrunches in confusion as he ponders the conundrum.

He's drunk too, that daft, silly, tipsy drunk he gets that you love so much. The heavy-lidded eyes and the dopey expression and the way that his usually affectionate nature just amplifies a hundred-fold. You watch him mull over the words, nudging him teasingly.

"Do I have to spell it out? No... Nut..."

That's the lightbulb moment. His shocked expression quickly turns into a look of what can only be described as horror.

"No nut? Like no..." He pauses, his voice hushing into a dramatic whisper. "Sex?"

You nod emphatically, smiling at Van's visible panic.

"For the whole of the month? Like nothing? None at all? Not even..."

You don't let him finish, folding your arms across your chest as you speak. "No sex, no blowies, no hand-jobs... and no wanking either."

"No wanking?" Van's voice raises by at least two octaves, and his volume increases too.

You hear an audible tutting noise emanating from the booth next door so you nudge Van in the ribs, urging him to keep quiet. "Keep your voice down for gods sake!"

He shakes his head, looking distraught, draining the last of his pint before turning again to you, talking in muted tones this time. "And remind me exactly why you wanna do this again?"

You roll your eyes, despairing that he can't even recall the conversation you'd been having five minutes previously. You'd been talking about abstaining, and who copes best with the lack of sex when Van's touring. You know damn well that you're the clear winner here, but Van loves to remind you that he can get you worked up in no time when he's talking dirty down the phone to you. You never used to get off on phone sex, but since your little shopping trip to Ann Summers a few months back and the purchase of certain sex toys, you're now an eager participant. And that's not the only improvement to your sex life. All of a sudden lights out, missionary position seems almost yawn-inducing.

"I didn't actually say I wanted to do it anyway," you explain. "I simply said that you wouldn't be able to manage it."

You lean back in your seat, watching Van carefully. You think you know exactly how he's going to react and he doesn't disappoint, drawing his bottom lip in between his teeth, his brow furrowed as he considers your words. When he looks up at you there's an air of determination about him, his shoulders squared as he turns his body to full face you.

"Are you challenging me?"

You mirror his posture, smirking gleefully. "Maybe I am. But there's no way on this earth you'll manage it anyway, so it's silly even talking about it..."

You shrug, looking down, rummaging in your handbag for your purse, but Van stills you with a hand on your arm. "Hold up. Who says I can't manage it? It's just a month, that's only like four weeks yeah? Last tour was nearly six weeks when we went to America. I definitely abstained from sex whilst we were away. I could do this easy."

He has a smug, self-assured look on his face which doesn't stay put for long when you remind him of one very important rule.

"No wanking, remember?"

Then you're up and out of your seat, making for the bar, wobbling slightly as you realise just how drunk you are. You're thankful to get to the bar and you slump against it heavily, ordering another pint for Van and half a shandy for yourself this time. You know that if you don't slow down you'll soon be in the realm of 'bad decisions' where you and Van will most likely end up agreeing to attend some tacky club night after the pub, thinking it's the best idea of your lives. It happens occasionally, and it's all good in the moment when you're dancing on the tables, miming to 90s hip hop and knocking back the tequila slammers, but when you wake up the next morning with the hangover from hell and no recollection of the past twelve hours it all changes.

You collect your drinks when they've been poured, slurping from the tops of the too-full glasses before you start back over to Van, watching him watching you as you move closer. His eyes slip down to roam over your figure as you walk, and you purposely add an extra sway to your hips, seeing his eyes glint with hunger. You laugh to yourself. He's so predictable. He'll never manage this. The man is like a walking hard-on.

Van waits until you're sitting back down and you've settled into your seat before he slips the arm that's been resting on the back of the seat down to your shoulders. "So... what's in this for me then? This so-called no nut thing? Surely I'll get something out of it other than blue balls?"

You giggle at his description, smiling up at him. "Well... it'll show your strength of mind and your willpower. And... you know... I guess if you manage to pull it off then I'll have to like... reward you or something."

You inject a sultriness into your voice, pouting slightly, pushing your shoulders back so Van's faced with the alluring sight of your cleavage. Predictably his eyes slip down, lingering longingly. You place two fingers under his chin, tilting his head up, smirking at him.

"Of course you'd have to follow the rules. No cheating."

He looks right back at you with a sexy little smirk of his own. "I reckon if the reward was tempting enough I could manage it. So what's it gonna be?"

His free hand slides across the upholstered seating and up on to your thigh. You feel a little tingle of excitement shoot through you. You love the flirtations that you and Van have. There's plenty of teasing, tempting touches and smutty insinuations, both of you drawing out the moment and ramping up the tension. You'll carry on before the two of you can't stand it any longer, then it's a quick dash for a taxi back home or an exciting hookup somewhere very public and oh-so daring. Either way your sex life is never dull, but you just can't think up anything enticing enough to reel Van in this particular time.

But maybe you don't have to. Maybe you don't have to try at all. Maybe the mystery of it will be the biggest temptation in itself.

"Maybe..." you begin, fixing him with a seductive look as you feel his hand inching further up your thigh under the table. "Maybe I'll let you do anything you like to me."

"Anything?" His eyebrows shoot up and you can practically see the x-rated thoughts scrolling through his head. "Anything at all?"

"Well yeah... I mean... within reason," you reply quickly, your own thoughts running wildly, excitement and a tinge of nerves simmering in your gut. Then you remember what the conditions of the challenge are and you relax a little, almost certain that Van has already as good as lost.

"So what about it then? You up for it?" You speak with more confidence this time, spreading your legs slightly, allowing Van's fingers to travel even further under the secrecy of the table.

"Fuck, you drive me crazy ya know? Yeah... yeah I'll do it."

His fingertips draw small patterns on the bare skin of your thighs, just below the hem of your skirt, sending shivers through you.

"Well... you better make the most of it tonight then. It's October 31st you know..."

He leans even closer and you can smell the faint scent of his cologne, feel his breath warm on your ear as he whispers into it. "And what happens... if I don't manage to do it? What then? What if I go and break the rules?"

A dark part of you stirs and starts to come to life. It blooms inside you, filling your head with sinful thoughts, a switch in the dynamics of your usual sexual encounters. You just don't know whether Van will be down for it.

You fix him with a steady gaze, your arousal rising as his fingertips dance along the hem of your skirt, straying underneath.

"Maybe then I'd have to punish you..."

You watch your words reach him, watch them sink in, his eyes widening for a second before they darken, simmering with lust, that heavy, needy way he looks at you that makes your heart pound. The thought flits through your mind that you must be mad to be offering up a challenge whereby you'll have to forego his passionate touches for a whole month, the feel of his fingers, his tongue, his cock, every single part of him that makes you feel the way that he does. The way he worships you like you're some kind of goddess, bringing you to your peak over and over before he even thinks about his own pleasure. But then you imagine how good it'll feel when you've held off for so long, how desperate and hungry he'll be for you and it sparks a fire in you, wicked thoughts of him being completely under your control, eager and needy... and all for you.

And it's not actually November yet... Not for a few more hours.

"Come on," you tell him, sliding your hand into his just as it's about to creep under the hem of your skirt, going to rise up out of your seat, urging him to follow you.

"Huh? But we've not finished our drinks yet. Where... oh... okay..."

Van's puzzlement quickly fades as he clocks the hungry look on your face. It must be pooling in your eyes... it's certainly throbbing between your legs, so much so that you don't want to lose your momentum having to wait for a taxi to transport you both home. You turn into the short corridor that leads to the pub toilets, Van trailing behind you, not even pausing even though you know you're risking being caught as you push through the door to the ladies toilets.

"Y/N..." Van mutters, and you feel resistance as he pulls back, bringing you to a stop just as you're about to step over the threshold. "Not in here... what if someone comes in?"

"No one'll know if we're quiet. C'mon... where's your sense of adventure? You're always dragging me off to do it in risky places!"

He hesitates for all of a few seconds before quickly glancing back to check the coast's clear and then urging you forwards. You both stumble, laughing, into the small room, immediately heading towards the bank of narrow cubicles lining the back wall. You take the first one, diving inside with Van hot on your heels. He turns to slide the lock across and you're already reaching for his hips, impatient, swivelling him around and pushing him back with force, causing his back to crash hard against the door.

He lets out a groan from the impact and you're just about to apologise but then you see the look on his face, the need etched into his features, and you think that maybe he wasn't voicing his discomfort as much as his arousal at your show of dominance. He reaches his hands to curl around your waist but you instinctively grab him by the wrists, watching his reaction carefully as you push them back firmly against the door. He lets you, his breathing deepening as he tips his head back against the wood. You push yourself up on your tiptoes, your lips going to his neck which you cover with kisses all over, starting gentle but getting progressively harsher, sure to leave bruises.

"Fucking 'ell..." you hear him utter under his breath, his arms flexing under your grip but he doesn't attempt to break free. "What's got into you? I like it."

"I want you... right now," you tell him, surprised by the commanding edge in your voice, feeling a strange kind of empowerment as you finally release him and begin hungrily tearing at the buttons of his shirt. One pops off and falls to the floor in your haste to uncover more bare skin. Then your fingers are deftly unfastening his belt buckle and ripping open the fastenings of his jeans, one hand slipping inside to encircle his rapidly stiffening cock.

He sucks in a gasped breath through gritted teeth as you grip him firmly, your fingers sliding down his length whilst your other hand pushes his jeans and underwear down. You feel drunk on desire, a feral kind of need overtaking you as your hands dart up to grab the edges of his shirt, pulling him forward and manoeuvring him backwards and pushing him down on to the closed toilet seat. Van just complies, his eyes fixed on yours as he looks up at you, glimmering with an awe-like wonder as he finally speaks.

"Right now you can do whatever you like to me babe... I'm all yours."

"I just fucking want you... okay?" You say, hitching up your skirt around your hips and hooking your fingers around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your hips and stepping out of them, discarding them on the floor.

His cock's already standing proud and he looks delectable sitting there ready and waiting for you, a flush on his cheeks and his full pink lips slightly parted, so inviting that you waste no time in mashing your own lips against his, swirling your tongue around his as you rest your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you straddle his lap.

"I love it when you take charge," he smirks up at you when you finally break away from the kiss and you're pushing his shirt back off his shoulders. "Just want you to ruin me."

You can't help but giggle even though his request has made you feel things, a glow of desperate heat inside you. "Ruin you? Oh god you old romantic!"

He grins back, his hands smoothing down over your bare hips under your hitched up skirt, fingers curling tightly around them, sliding you further up his lap.

"It's not all about romance though is it? Sometimes you just want someone to take control and fuck your brains out!"

"I can definitely do that!" You reply, grasping for his cock, the feel of him rock hard and eager for you spurring you on. You want him and you want him now. Not slow, sensual love-making, taking the time to delight in his touch and planting kisses all over his skin, you just want to feel him inside you, all of him... every delicious inch of him.

You hover over his lap, guiding his cock to your entrance, the sigh already building in you as you begin to lower yourself down, feeling his thickness stretching you out. You temporarily forget that you're in a very public place, a loud moan bursting from you as you slide yourself completely down, the feeling of sudden fullness making your eyes roll back.

"Shit... feels so good," Van groans as you come to a rest completely in his lap, your bodies fused as one.

He bucks his hips, eager for you to move but you press down on him, stilling him, moving your own hips just ever so slightly. You can tell he's desperate for you, he needs the friction of you grinding on him, his fingers tightening their grip on your hips, enough to leave furrows on your skin. You just smile down on him, a mix of sweet and sultry, teasing him by slowly rotating your pelvis, not giving him what he wants... not just yet.

"C'mon... want you," he breathes, looking up at you with hungry eyes, his hips twitching.

"Oh you do, do you?" You purr. "You think you deserve this?"

You're enjoying this, the heady feeling of being in control, soaking up his need. You flick your hips quickly before stilling them again, drawing a moan from him which tapers off into a whine.

"Fuck Y/N... please..."

And it's the way he says it, his voice thick with desperation, the pleading look in his eyes that stirs a dark part in you that relishes the power you hold over him. You wonder how far you can take this, how it would feel to make him really beg for it.

"I don't know Van... I mean maybe you don't want it that bad..."

You emphasise your words, drawing them out slowly with a smirk, your hips lazily circling, giving him a taste of pleasure but without the pressure he needs. His eyes are glazed over with lust, yearning as he looks up at you like you can make all of his dreams come true.

"Please baby… please... I want you so bad..."

The teasing smile on your lips tells him all he needs to know. He'll get his pleasure but if you want to take your sweet damn time he'll just have to suck it up. It's your pleasure that's of utmost importance here. You reach up a hand, brushing his hair back from his face, cooing at him in a soft voice.

"What do you want... do you want this?"

You buck your hips at him harshly, just once before you press down on him again, gasping yourself from the sensation. He groans, his mouth falling agape. Your hand smooths against his hair, your fingers twisting through it, winding it tightly into a fist.

"Fuck yes..."

"Yes... what?" You tease, yanking his head back with force, a sudden movement that has an impassioned groan bursting from him, confirmation that this is turning him on just as much, if not more than you.

"Yes... please... oh fuck please Y/N... just want you to fucking use me..."

His words shock you, arousing you beyond belief, spurring you on, your hips grinding torturously slowly against him. You pull his head further back to expose his neck, sucking and biting a trail across his skin until his hips are bucking and he's letting out needy whines. His fingers are digging even harder into your hips now, insistently so, his breath coming in harsh pants as you thrust your own hips again and again.

Part of you could go on like this all nigh but it's not just torturous for Van. Your need is growing by the second, simmering uncontrollably as another thrust creates a delicious friction against your clit as your bodies collide.

"Gonna fuck you now," you whisper into his ear, catching and nipping his lobe in your teeth as you pull back to look at him, the purplish blooms of bruising that litter his pale skin, his pupils blown wide and clouded over with lust.

You let your hips pull back before thrusting back down, moving with as much force as you can muster, one hand gripping at his shoulders to steady yourself, the other still caught in his hair. Desperate, frantic groans fall from his lips as you set a fast pace right from the start, his cock hitting a spot deep inside you at every thrust which has you gasping breathlessly. You just ride him even harder, slamming your hips against his, the harsh sounds of your skin connecting filling the small cubicle.

You know he won't last long, his face screwed up in bliss, his eyes rolling back, needy grunts and gasps spilling forth. He's always been vocal in your love-making but you don't think you've ever heard him this loud before, it's like you've tapped into some primal need in him to be used and fucked like this.

At some point you're dimly aware of sounds outside your cubicle, shuffling footsteps, a door slamming, a toilet flushing, but you're fuelled by the same need as Van, desperate to reach your peak now. You reach down a hand to increase the pressure on your clit, your fingertip sliding over your slick skin, bringing you closer and closer to the high that's just out of reach.

"Fuck... fuck... FUCK..."

Van hisses out curses through gritted teeth, his body going taut below you as you slam on to him again and again, relentlessly as your own climax approaches.

You can feel him start to shudder beneath you a moment before he spills into you and you pull back to watch him, mesmerised as the intensity of his orgasm consumes him. The divine sight of him losing it drives you to your own peak, your fingers flicking quickly over your clit until you're a quivering wreck yourself, still driving yourself on to Van even though he's now a trembling mess from the sensitivity.

"Holy fucking shit!" He breathes as you finally come to a stop, panting uncontrollably, pressing up against his warm body, burying your face into the crook of his neck. "That was somethin' else!"

A warm glow of satisfaction engulfs you as you finally peel yourself away to look at him, sated and happy. "I don't know what came over me!" You laugh, taking in his blissed out expression.

"I don't fucking know but I am here for it babe... 100 percent! You were like a fucking animal!"

His lips curl into the widest grin and you can't help the loud laugh that bubbles up in your chest, bursting forth until you're both sniggering, even more so as you start to manoeuvre yourself off Van's lap, groaning at the sticky mess that immediately starts dripping down your thighs.

"Oh god, look at the state of us!"

In fact you're both so caught up in your tipsy, post-fuck haze that you don't pay any heed to the toilet door opening again, much louder this time, crashing back on its hinges. It's only when the loud, stern voice booms out that you both freeze, eyes wide and panicked, mouths wide in embarrassed horror.

"EXCUSE ME! YOU TWO! WE'VE HAD COMPLAINTS FROM THE OTHER CUSTOMERS!"

A hand shoots up to your mouth in an instant to stifle a horrified gasp as you look at Van who's expression quickly changes from shock to a gleeful kind of mischievous delight, sniggering like a naughty schoolboy who's been caught smoking behind the bikesheds at school.

"Oh... errr... sorry mate. We... errr... we'll just get going then..."

"Shhhh!" You hiss urgently, scrabbling for your panties off the floor, even though it's much too late to worry about being quiet.

The voice rings out again, even sterner this time. "Yes, I suggest you do... and may I remind you that this is a LADIES toilet..."

"Yeah... shit... yeah sorry... I... errr... got a bit confused. When ya gotta go, you gotta go though, right?"

"Van!" You whisper a warning, digging him sharply in the ribs, urging him to shut up as he tries to swallow down another snigger, clumsily fastening his jeans and buttoning up his shirt as fast as he can.

There's a disgusted kind of huffing sound before you hear footsteps and the sound of the door swinging shut, and you breathe out a sigh of relief, smoothing down your clothes and reaching for the lock on the door.

"Fuck's sake how embarrassing!" You groan. "I hope there's like a fire escape or something we can sneak out of!"

Van's still laughing, pushing you forwards gently as you edge cautiously out of the cubicle. "Nah, we've actually got to walk back through the pub to get out!"

He sounds much less traumatised than you at the thought of facing the poor unsuspecting person who was privy to your sordid toilet shag, and you can already feel your cheeks aflame as you imagine the disapproving looks you'll get.

"Bloody hell I'm never coming in here again!" You whine as Van pushes past you in the short hallway that leads back into the pub, taking the lead and grasping the door handle, striding in like he's walking out on to the stage for a performance, full of his usual confidence.

"Don't think we'll be welcome anyway love," he chuckles.

You shuffle along quickly behind him, trying to make yourself look as inconspicuous as possible even though you swear you can feel several sets of hostile eyes burning into you. "Hurry up, just get going!" You urge, butting into him, head bent down, studying the pattern on the carpet as you both make for the exit.

There's no cheery farewell by the pub landlord as you both file out of the door, Van with a huge shit-eating grin on his face and you blushing and shame-faced beside him as you come to a stop in the cold October's night chill.

"Thank god we're out of there! I've never been so embarrassed in all my life!" You shake your head, cringing as you fan your glowing cheeks, feeling a smile simmering that you can't control as Van bends over double with a huge gale of laughter.

"Your face!" He gasps, clutching his belly, uncontrollable now with his laughter, causing your giggles to start up. "Anyway... this is all your fault. If you hadn't been so insatiable..."

"Fuck off!" You laugh, landing a well-aimed slap on his upper arm which he yelps at playfully. "You were well up for it!"

"I always am with you... can't get enough of ya!"

He catches you around the waist, drawing you in. You pretend to resist for a moment before you give in, still laughing, letting him envelope you in a warm embrace which staves off the chilly breeze that's whipped up around you.

"Well... I'm glad you enjoyed it as that's it now!" You bring up your wrist to check your watch, calculating that by the time you've made your way home, November won't be far away.

"Wha..." he begins, and then you see the realisation dawn on his face. "Oh, right! The No Nut November thing. Ahh shit... I forgot about that... but it's fine... no problem... I can handle it."

He nods emphatically, a glint in his eye, still on a high from your latest encounter which makes you laugh inside. He might be confident now whilst he's still coming down from your sleazy toilet encounter but how will he feel when hours turn into days and days turn into weeks and he has to abstain for all that time? He'll never manage it.

"Well, we'll just see about that shall we?"

He scoffs at your smug grin, pulling you against his body even tighter. "Yeah, we will. Honestly love, if you think I'm gonna lose this bet you're wrong. It's gonna be worth it anyway... just gotta think up my reward... oh it's gonna be good, I can promise you that."

He dips his head down to plant a warm kiss on your lips, pulling back to reveal the seductive smile you're wearing as your thoughts stray to your own wicked plans. "Meanwhile I'll just be plotting your punishment... for when you fail."

You emphasise your words, letting them roll slowly off your tongue, coated in the promise of something dark and sultry. You can see the intrigue in his eyes even though his competitive streak won't let him give in.

"Not gonna happen!" He smirks, and you both laugh, kissing again, finally breaking away as Van catches your hand in his as you start your walk home.

Read Part 2

If you were wondering where my inspiration came for this fic, it was this ask I got… I’ve written 5 parts so far so I’ll upload the rest soon xxx

[cursed-elo-images]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MELVYN GALE!!!

I decided to draw something special and draw multiple images of him-the main one being him in these really cute glasses I found in a couple images of him, and he looked so beautiful and pretty in them, I couldn’t resist drawing this look.

Then on the top left there’s a drawing based on an image of him looking to the side. In the top right there’s him having his surprised expression that’s derived from one of those photos of the band from 1975, when they’re posing in a surprised manner after looking at the album cover for Face the Music. And then on the bottom left is him with a neutral, slightly nervous(?) looking face. Then finally on the bottom right there’s the smiling Melvyn. I think the images that inspired these specific drawings were from Getty Images. Honestly, using them as references is just so fun because his photos are really good tbh.

[fuckitwebhaal]

The Dark Urge (2)

A continuation of my playthrough as Kyr Farwhisper - The Dark Urge. Usual warnings apply: anything below the READ MORE will have SPOILERS and content warnings for gore and violence.

I last left off discussing how some of the companions were very nonchalant in regards to Kyr's missing memories--and it's a good point made that most have bigger problems in mind! With Gale, Astarion, and Shadowheart as most people's initial party, that first step towards the Grove is filled with everyone's minds wondering how their preexisting circumstances will hold up against the new threat of the mindflayer tadpole.

Lae'zel and Wyll, once you recruit them, are much of the same mind about the gap in your memory (though Lae'zel suspects it has something to do with ceremorphosis, and recommends that you be watched more closely, if that is the case). As for the Dark Urge itself, all seems to be quiet up until the point you are asked to speak to the druid Kagha, and perhaps rescue the captive tiefling girl, Arabella.

Clearly, as narrated, Kyr recognizes the snake and the effects of its poison--and even meditated briefly on the urge enough to consider that he is at odds with himself on how to act upon it. I do find it interesting that it is the mind wanting the child to come to harm, and not the heart--the heart is the resistance, it seems. Not the usual arrangement seen on the logical/emotional symbolism, especially in regards to someone being tainted or corrupted, but I think it's fun.

There was an option to "flick your eyes to indicate to the girl to run" -- no doubt doing so would cause the snake to strike and the child to die. I decided not to even entertain that route in a reloaded save. I doubt you would receive disapproval for it (they would have to prove you knew the snake would strike the girl) but I personally tend to draw the line at harming children in any game.

In Nettie's office, Kyr is able to approach the injured bluejay after she has cast the healing magic upon it. He is presented with one of two options.

Tear the wings off of the bird.

2. Leave.

Kyr chose to leave, but it wasn't an immediate disengagement from the encounter; he stepped back with a worried and almost horrified expression, as though aware of the possibility of temptation. Your conversation with Nettie afterwards details that she can't fathom what more than a mind-flayer tadpole is wrong with you, and again instructs you to find Halsin.

Exiting the Druid quarters (after Kyr stole the evidential letter from Kagha's chest) led him to the altercation atop the path between the tieflings and the imprisoned goblin. I decided to indulge the Dark Urge a little bit here, as it didn't seem as consequential as the other times it had been presented to me.

It did result in the death of Sazza, purely by choice of inaction, except this inaction comes from a point of relish. Kyr sits with it for a time, and later, he's horrified. It doesn't help that after you give in to a slight Urge here and there, Astarion does always have something to add--barring a slight approval, of course.

And so ends Kyr's time at the Grove, for now. He heads out to decide which of the many threads to pull at first--the creche, Halsin, or the letter of Kagha's guilt?

Part 1 | Part 2

[residentsofhollowville]

She looks at him in utter bafflement. Her expression is not one of contempt or disgust, but sincere, almost naive confusion.

"Oh, no, of course not. I - with the way you loved, I seriously doubted I was your first and only lover, and I didn't think-"

No need to be dishonest, girl. Just buck up and say it.

"I didn't think this was anything serious. I thought you were just toying with me, that you were going to have your fun and move on."

Precious heart. Precious heart. When has she ever been valued that way? Gale loved her, yes, but in the way the storm loves the little thunderclouds that make it up, the way something grand and powerful loves a small, fragile thing. Not like this.

"Now...now I'm not so sure."

She draws in a sharp, hissing breath.

"If I am...something important to you, you must know that I am flawed. I am broken in ways that cannot be fixed. You've seen my scars. There are things I will never be able to give you."

Wichita cannot sleep. This isn't a rare thing for her, she spent most of her childhood evenings lying awake and praying for sanctuary from the dangers that stalked her dreams, but resting in the embrace of the Vast has been healing to her, in a way she'd admit to very few.

She wanders up onto the top deck of the ship, gazing into the endless blue. She'd never seen the ocean before she stepped foot on the Andromeda, and now, she's begun to understand why Gale loves it so. Silent and mysterious and endless. Like her, and so unlike her.

She jolts when she hears someone walk up beside her, prepared to scurry back to her cabin, only to relax when she sees who it is.

"Hello, Rose. Sorry, I don't mean to cause you any trouble by being out after hours, I just...needed some air, that's all."

@residentsofhollowville

Rose smiled fondly at Wichita, stepping Un to their side and watching the horizon with her. "You're quite alright, Wichita." he muses quietly, before shifting to hold his arms behind his back, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. "You are allowed out, no worries. There is no such thing as after hours. Sure, lsot of our guest...prefer to stay inside for the most part when the dark sets in, not to mention the activities we offer, but it is not mandatory to attend."

He's quiet for a moment, then turns to look at Wichita, letting his arms fall back to his sides. "What's keeping you up, dear?" the question sounds an echo of worry, concern for the other. "I would've thought your first day must've been exhausting, are you not tired? You look tired, darling." carefully, he takes a step towards them. Gently, he places a hand on Wichita's upper arm, giving a gentle squeeze and rubbing his thumb along the fabric covering their skin.

[agduna-central]

First Love

An Agduna story i wrote as Secret Santa on our Agduna Discord server for @itsmecollington

I had the choice between three wishes: 1. teen Agduna sharing a sweet moment outside as the sun sets over the fjord’s water 2. teen Agduna holding hands as Gale floats them gently in the air (like in the deleted scene but relaxed) (setting is up to you!) 3. teen Agduna drinking hot chocolate and laughing together

And then i thought why not take all of them for the story. This is the result and i hope you like it. Enjoy.

***

Agnarr

Both were exhausted and stopped breathing heavily. He stood bent over and had his hands on his knees while he did not let Iduna out of his sight. Iduna, however, only wiped the sweat from her forehead and had a triumphant expression on her face. They had been playing hide and seek during the last hour, giving each other nothing. He didn't give up and kept chasing after her, touching her according to the rules of the game. But she was quick, fled from him and skillfully avoided all his attempts to pat her down. However, Iduna had help from this magical being and took advantage of this benefit mercilessly. So he was clearly at a disadvantage. She smiled at him.

"Well, have you had enough now?"

"Of course not! But let me first catch my breath a little, then we'll continue. I'll get you soon enough," he replied and looked at her with a slightly angry look. "If you didn't have the help of this...wind...thing, the whole thing would look very different, believe me."

"This wind thing, as you call it, is named Gale and is one of the four Spirits. Gale is my friend," Iduna explained to him and proudly crossed her arms in front of her chest.

He straightened up and looked at her while he slowly recovered. She was so different from the girls in Arendelle; he thought. So confident, resolved and bold. He liked her, although she behaved so disrespectfully to him, the Prince of Arendelle. But beyond that, he liked her too. She looked so sweet when she smiled.

"The way you...made Gale twirl me around in the air earlier and then let me plop to the ground in this degrading way was really unfair. You had your fun with me, it was obvious," he lamented and looked at her as determinedly as she was looking at him right now. But on the other hand, he also had a lot of fun.

This feeling of floating in the air high up near the treetops had been incredibly exciting. His heart was pounding in his chest as he looked down with nothing but air under his feet and the surrounding world revolved around him. In the end, she had given him a nudge on the nose and grinningly said "Boop!" She had clearly won the game, but he couldn't blame her for that. He wanted more of it.

Iduna just smiled and shrugged her shoulders. For a moment they just stood there and assessed each other with glances. Then he sighed.

"Do you think Gale would listen to me, too?" he asked. "I mean, can I get this Wind Spirit to make me float as you can?"

Iduna raised her eyebrows and thought for a second. Then she shook her head.

"I don't think that's possible. But I can tell him that he will just lift us both up and let us both float quietly for a while."

He nodded, "All right. But no tricks this time. Promise?"

"Promise!" she said and then shouted loudly for Gale. A moment later, leaves spun up, circled around her and played with her long hair. She giggled because it apparently tickled her neck. A few leaves now floated in front of her face, circling around an imaginary spot in the air. She held one hand next to her mouth and whispered something to the leaves that he could not understand. It looked kind of strange what she was doing. Then the leaves suddenly came towards him and he automatically took a few steps back.

'Now don't be such a coward, he thought, and stopped expectantly. A powerful air stream whirled around him and he felt the power behind it. Slowly Gale pushed him upwards and his feet came off the ground. He floated now and immediately this euphoric feeling was back. His clothes fluttered around him and the wind whizzed through his hair. He spread his arms wide and laughed. This time it went very slowly and he climbed more and more. Iduna floated up with him and, smiling, came closer at the same height. They climbed further and further and his heartbeat raced. This time, however, with joy. Then they passed the tops of the trees and were suddenly above the forest.

He hadn't expected this sight, and he hadn't imagined that they would both climb so high. Frightened, he rowed with his arms, but there was nothing to hold on to. Only air. Iduna noticed his fear and let herself be carried even closer to him. She grabbed his hands and stabilized him, giving him the support he needed. He looked at her gratefully and smiled. Then he could look around in peace. What an incredible experience; he thought. The view from up here was simply phenomenal.

The wind rustled in his ears and so he was a little louder than he wanted to be.

"That's fantastic, Iduna!" he shouted.

Iduna bent to his ear, "Not so loud, Agnarr! We don't want to draw attention to ourselves, do you hear?"

He opened his eyes and nodded violently when the situation became clear to him. No imagining what would happen if his father saw him like that. He now concentrated fully on Iduna and felt the safe, warm grip of her hands. They were now very close and their faces were only a handbreadth apart. He looked deeply into her eyes and began to sink into them. She held his gaze and smiled at him. Something was happening between the two of them as they floated silently on the spot. There was suddenly a completely new feeling inside him and he felt it in his stomach. It was like a swarm of butterflies and warmth was spreading inside.

He experienced a strong affection for her, an attraction he had never felt before. He could not name it, but he knew in that moment that he wanted to be near her all the time. A deep desire made him tilt his head towards her, but then he hesitated. He couldn't just kiss a strange girl, high up and floating in the air. Embarrassed, he lowered his gaze, saw their feet dangling freely in the air, and the ground below suddenly seemed to be infinitely far away. It would have been better if he hadn't done that now; he suddenly became aware of it, and the butterflies in his stomach had suddenly become something else. Something that wanted to go up by force, through his throat and out.

He noticed that Iduna looked at him as he began to turn green in the face, causing Gale to gently slide them both down.

"Do not look down, Agnarr! Just look at me, okay?"

He nodded and followed her advice. His grip on her hands became tighter and he swallowed hard. 'Just don't throw up now', he thought. He closed his eyes and opened them again as soon as he realized that this only made things worse. She giggled and he just found the situation even more embarrassing.

When they were back down on safe ground he took a few deep breaths in and out. A gentle breeze cooled his face and only now did he realize that he was a little cold. Unlike Iduna in her warm reindeer skin clothing, he only wore his thin city clothes and they were not made for this climate, especially not for situations like this. But slowly he started to feel better again.

"Thank you, Iduna, for this extraordinary experience! It just got a little cold up there and I could use a cup or two of hot chocolate. It warms so nicely from the inside."

Iduna looked at him questioningly, "Hot chocolate? What is it?"

"Hold on, you do not know chocolate? For real? Oh, man, you really missed something. This is the best taste you can ever imagine. Sweet and melt-in-the-mouth. As hot chocolate, it's just dreamy."

"We don't have anything like that here. Apart from honey, we don't have anything sweet here and even that we don't eat very often, because wild honey is not so easy to come by," Iduna said and shrugged her shoulders regretfully.

"We absolutely must remedy that. I can have this drink made for you in our camp. You will be thrilled," Agnarr replied eagerly, looking forward to returning the favor and spending more time with her.

But Iduna shook her head, she even looked a bit frightened; he thought as he believed to recognize in her facial expression.

"I am not allowed in your camp. If I'm seen there, I'll be in big trouble.

"Well, I'll bring you a cup of it," he said understandingly. "Just wait there at the edge of the forest for my return. It won't take very long."

Iduna swayed her head and thought for a moment. Then she finally smiled and nodded. "All right. I'll wait for you there."

"I'll be right back. I promise!" Then he turned around and hurried off.

***

Nevertheless, the following events took a completely different course and his memories became blurred. The first thing he remembered was waking up in his bed in Arendelle and the doctors of the castle taking care of him. What had happened before remained hidden from him. There was only a blurry image in his head, the face of a pretty young girl on a cart beside him, and he thought he remembered handing her a bar of chocolate.

***

Iduna

More than a month had passed and she now lived in Arendelle in the orphanage and had daily classes in the castle. She wanted to look around the town a bit more today and after that she wanted to go for a walk by the fjord.

She just had passed a store where chocolate was sold and immediately memories came back to her. Memories of a promise that unfortunately could not be kept due to the events of that time. Worse of all, Agnarr did not remember their experience together with Gale, her friend the Wind Spirit. She had recognized this from his behavior during her last encounters. Ever since he hit his head on that rock, he didn't even know who and most importantly, what she was. And it was better that way; she thought.

She walked on, deeply lost in thought, and only then did she realize that she was almost at the fjord when she arrived at the great weir wall. She looked up at the wall and saw the reddish glow in the clouds above. The sun set soon and it had already become late. But now she was already here and could just as well watch the sunset at the fjord.

She entered the gate and the city guard let her pass. Once outside, she looked around for a suitable place to sit down comfortably. But the most comfortable place seemed to be already occupied and it was the young king Agnarr, of all people, who sat there and two guards, who leaned against the wall far enough away but still within shouting distance behind him and talked.

She hesitated. Should she simply walk over to Agnarr or turn around and go back to the city? His guards had already noticed her, too, and were now looking at her suspiciously. She was already about to turn her back to the fjord when Agnarr saw her and waved to her.

"Iduna!"

The guards relaxed again, and she couldn't just walk away again now that the young king had noticed her. It would be more than just rude; she thought. She sighed softly and marched towards him with measured steps.

"Your Majesty," she said with a slight bow as she reached him, and he pointed beside her to offer her a seat. She sat down next to him on his blanket and nervousness blossomed in her. Here on the fjord the air had become quite cool at this time of day and a light breeze was tugging at her hair.

"Iduna, you know you don't have to talk to me like that when we're alone."

"I know, Agnarr. It's just because of your two guards who keep an eye on us."

He took a quick look back, smiled at her, and waved. "Don't worry about them. So you have the same idea today as I did... to enjoy the sunset on the Arenfjord. I am very happy that destiny brought us together here."

She didn't know what to answer. Sitting here with the young king on the shore made her a bit nervous. She couldn't handle him as well as she did in the forest thus admit that they had known each other for a long time and had feelings for each other. So she just nodded and looked at him a bit shyly.

Agnarr smiled. "May I perhaps offer you something to drink?" he asked and reached into a basket behind him. "It will warm us a little from the inside, now that it is already getting colder at the fjord."

"What is it?" she asked and followed his hand with her gaze. He opened the lid, took out a clay cup and handed it to her. Then he pulled out a small bulbous carafe from under a blanket in the basket and unplugged it. It steamed from the opening into the cool air above. "I love hot tea. Thank you, Agnarr," she said with a smile and held the cup out to him.

"No tea, Iduna. Much better! It's hot chocolate."

She almost dropped the mug and was speechless. He had kept his old promise and did not even know it. She stared at him and the sweet smell of chocolate wafted over to her. The taste of chocolate was familiar to her by now, he had finally given her a bar of it on the cart and it tasted heavenly. But in liquid form? She stretched out her hand and he poured the dark liquid into her cup.

She gently sipped it and then took a bigger gulp. Agnarr watched her closely and his grin grew wider and wider. "Hmm...," she hummed in delight and closed her eyes.

"Well, did I promise too much?" he asked.

"It tastes heavenly," she replied and drank the cup empty. He laughed.

"More?"

She nodded vehemently and held the cup out to him. "Aren't you drinking with us?" she asked while he gave her a refill.

"Well, I hadn't expected visitors and so I only took one drinking vessel with me. But that's no problem, I drink it quite often in the castle. But you don't seem to know it yet and I'm glad that we have the same taste. So you are welcome to drink the carafe empty while the chocolate is still warm," he said and put the vessel back into the basket.

"Thank you, Agnarr, that's sweet of you," she replied smiling and took another sip.

The sun was already very low and its reddish ball was reflected glittering in the rippling water of the fjord. It had become quiet and even the two guards had interrupted their conversation and now enjoyed the picturesque sight as much as they did.

Agnarr slipped back a bit to give her a better view and his hand landed on hers. They looked at each other and after a few moments she turned her hand around and enclosed his. No words were necessary. Both enjoyed the presence of the other and at some point Agnarr slid closer to her and put his arm around her. She smiled and after a while her head sank contentedly on his shoulder and both watched the sun slowly sink.

***

[lizzy-frizzle]

Haha, jk....unless?

Taken

“Listen, what will it take to convince you I’m worthy to take you out on a date?”

A small au ra raen looks sternly up at the xaela.

The xaela responds, “You are not of the dotharl tribe, you can never be worthy.”

Lizzy, frustrated and not to let fate stop her, takes a moment, and looks around the area.

“Ok, what if I help your tribe?” she spots numerous people immediately with pained expressions, surely they need some help, “After all, you lost some people after the naadam. If the imperials were to come back and attack your tribe, you’d be wiped out.”

Sadu takes a moment and considers her words, “You would help a tribe you don’t belong to?”

“Of course, I helped the mol, I did some light chores for the oronir and buduga. I’ll gladly help the dotharl!” Lizzy finished her sentences and beams at Sadu.

Sadu thinks about this, she can’t exactly turn down help, but at the same time she doesn’t want to offer what Lizzy wants.

“Let’s see how serious you are then.” she scowls, but Lizzy doesn’t let that deter her.

Lizzy spots a dotharli warrior she helped before, “Mauci! Hey, you wanted a teacher right? Let’s go learn to fight!”

The warrior looks startled, and stammers out, “O-oh, Y-yea! OK! Sure, can you kill some beasts for me to watch your technique?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Lizzy, daggers already out, starts marching away from the khaa.

~Out in the steppe~

“Alright, you’re watching?”

Mauci shouts from a safe distance, “Yea! Go for it!”

Lizzy approaches several beasts, daggers drawn and ready to attack, the monsters take note of Lizzy’s presence and one dashes out. Lizzy jumps up, and thrusts a dagger down through the monsters skull, [Nice and easy, now the other one.]  The other one attacks in response, lashing out with a claw. Lizzy ducks under it, and slashes one of it’s legs with her left dagger. [The least you could do is give me a challenge though.] Then in the same motion jumps up again and uses the right dagger to create a handle on the creatures back. It flails it’s arms in an attempt to shake her off. [Oh, I can show off here, hold on.] Lizzy leaps off, and in the air, she uses a series of hand motions, [Raiton time!~] Suddenly a bolt of lightning strikes the creature, killing it instantly.

Lizzy lands with a flourish, dusting herself off, now slightly covered in blood.

“How was that?”

Mauci scratches his head, “Ah, your motions are certainly unfamiliar. Not to say they aren’t natural. I think I see the style though. Let’s return to the khaa, there’s a practice session later today. I’d like to test myself against the others.”

Lizzy looks over and sees smoke coming from the peaceful spring, “Is that accompanied with a bonfire?”

Mauci turns, and looks worried for a moment, “No, no it’s not.”

~Back at the Dotharl Khaa~

When Lizzy and Mauci return, the winds have picked up into a gale.

There’s numerous imperial soldiers fighting with various dotharli warriors. Lizzy wastes no time throwing daggers at the nearest imperial soldiers, dispatching them immediately. With speed Mauci can hardly believe, Lizzy seemingly teleports within range of 3 other soldiers and just as fast the group is engulfed in a fireball, he feels the intense heat from at least 20 yalms away. When the smoke clears, Lizzy is holding an imperial soldier by the collar. The scowl that reads on her is unmistakable through the crimson dripping down her face.

“Where is she.”

The soldier’s eyes are closed, the body is limp.

[Ugh, perhaps that was too much.]

Lizzy scans the area a bit, anything, a sign, a hope. Anything.

[She should be here, she wouldn’t have run away from the fighting. But where.]

A couple more troops fighting with dotharl are nearby, Lizzy runs over and takes them out, still looking for Sadu.

[Even if she was killed, I’d be able to see her.]

Panic starts to pool inside of Lizzy. Then, she spots them. The imperials with a group of hostages, Sadu one of them.

“No..” Lizzy wants to run after them, but there’s too many innocent tribe people in danger right now.

[I can always ask Thancred for help tracking the hostages, I have to save the people in immediate danger now.]

~Later that night~

“Thancred?”

“Yes? What, pray tell, would the warrior of light want with me at this hour?”

“They took Sadu and some other Dotharli people.”

“Work then. Who took them?”

“Garleans.”

“Ah, serious work then. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Please hurry.” Lizzy couldn’t hide the slight worry in her voice.

“Oh? Is that the Fearsome Warrior of Light AND Darkness with some fear in her voice?”

“Shut it. I still haven’t kneecapped you for making fun of Heliox.”

“Very well, I’ll be off.”

With that Thancred disappears into the night. Lizzy waits with baited breath.

~The Next Day~

Lizzy’s linkshell wakes her up

“Yo, what’s-” Lizzy yawns, “-up?”

“It’s like noon, why are you asleep?”

Lizzy shoots up in bed, “Thancred, where are they?”

“Oh I have your attention now?”

“Thancred.”

“Ok, ok, don’t tear my head off. They’re just being held in a nearby imperial prison, not a huge deal. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re worrying about them, it doesn’t seem like there’s anyone important there.”

“I’m going to go rescue them.”

“OH WAIT YOU-”

Lizzy hangs up on him. Lizzy gets out of the tent, and looks at the Khaa. The smouldering remains where the fires burned made her remember the battlefield at Ghimlyt Dark. The smell of imperial gunpowder, and the view of bloodsoaked sand.

[It’s ok. You can save her, and there weren’t any casualties on the dotharli end.]

Lizzy sighed, and shook her head free of the memories. She whistles for a yol and without a word she’s off.

~~

Lizzy was never one for a plan when her emotions played a large factor. Luckily, being the warrior of light means not many can actually cause enough trouble to halt her.

That being said. Not every prison can just be brute force’d into letting her have her way.

[Ok, maybe this should be a more stealth based mission]

Lizzy peers out across the layers of soldiers.

[Lasagna Soldiers]

Lizzy let out a small chuckle at her thought.

[So, get in, free Sadu and any other dotharl’s, get out, without being seen. Easy. Just like Oboro always tries to convince me. Stay hidden.]

Lizzy begins infiltration. Staying hidden while possible. Ducks down a hallway, dodges a patrol group.

[All in all, this is going better than most cases.]

Just then, she turned a corner, and two roaming soldiers nearly collided into her. She jumps out of reflex and somehow managed to avoid both of them.

Lizzy lets out an audible sigh.

“What? Hard day?” one says.

[Oops.]

The other responds, “Hm? No? Why’d you ask?”

The first guard turns around, and starts looking as if he could see Lizzy.

“I thought I heard a sigh. It wasn’t you?”

They draw their weapons.

[This isn’t great.]

Lizzy unsheathes her daggers.

[I tried, oboro, please don’t be mad.]

She breaks hidden, and lunges towards both guards.

[If I can just kill them both before they say anything, maybe it’ll be fine]

A flurry of daggers, and two thuds from the bodies hitting the floor.

[Nice, ok, back to]

An alarm starts blaring.

[Oh. Ok, well, running time now.]

Turns a corner, another one, a third corner.

[HOW MANY CORNERS ARE IN THIS PLACE.]

She turns another corner and slams into a door, knocking it open and nearly off its hinges. Lizzy spots the dark blue skin and black scales.

[Dotharli people?]

Lizzy bolts to the cell.

“Hey, is this everyone?” she asks.

Scanning quickly, her heart drops. Sadu isn’t here.

~~

She spits at the guard inches from her face.

He wipes the spit off his mask, and repeats the question.

“So, are there any secrets in the Steppe? Why was the Warrior of Light there?”

No response.

“Very well, we can continue doing this until your spirit gives up.”

The guard takes an imperial device, and touches it against her skin, sending electricity through her body, and burns across the skin where the metal touched.

“If you think I’m afraid to die, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

The guard takes the device off her.

“Clearly.”

He wipes it clean and puts it back on the trolley.

“Well, perhaps you care more about your fellow savages.”

Suddenly an alarm starts blaring.

“An intruder?”

Sadu’s heart races slightly.

[Could it be? Did that foolish woman follow us?]

The guard speaks into his radio, “Who’s the intruder?”

The other side isn’t heard, but Sadu could feel it. No one else could have found them.

“I see, well, stop her immediately.”

[Her, so it is her.]

“I don’t care if she’s the Warrior of Light, she bleeds like anyone else!” the guard turns his focus back to Sadu, “Well, I must have someone mighty important to merit a rescue from the dreaded Warrior of Light herself.”

Sadu remains quiet.

“You are proving to be very difficult. I don’t tolerate difficult people. If you are worth something I can still utilize you.” he pulled his gunsword out and aimed it right at Sadu, “But maybe you aren’t worth the trouble.”

An explosion shakes the facility. The guard looks towards the door, even through the mask Sadu can tell he’s worried.

Another explosion, this one on the opposite side.

“Is it more than just one intruder?” the guard says into his radio.

Sadu is unsure if he gets a response or not, but the guard points the gunsword at her again.

“Ok, I don’t have time for you anymore, pray to whatever god you believe in and be prepared to meet them.”

The door slams open, and is shortly followed by a lightning bolt aimed directly at the guard.

A shot rings out.

~~

“Ok, listen, I’m going to create a diversion, a big one. Can you take these bombs and plant them near the exit? Just throw em anywhere, hit the button, and run. You’ll have a minute or two to get away.”

Lizzy hands a pouch of bombs to one of the xaela she recognized from the Naadam, and gives the group directions out of the base.

“Trust me, they’ll be more focused on me, I promise.”

Lizzy bolts off down the corridor, leaving the handful of xaela to escape.

[Ok, time to find the most explosive room in the building. They keep bombs around here somewhere, right?]

Running as fast as her legs will carry her, she covers numerous hallways in a handful of moments. Hoping to catch some indication of something to make a big boom.

More hallways.

[I’m wasting time, surely there must be something I can use.]

Then she found it.

[Well, it’s not bombs…]

She walks into a room storing multiple energy tanks.

[I was never one for subtlety to be honest.]

Lizzy prepares her shadeshift.

An explosion goes off across the prison.

[That sounds like where I told the Dotharli people to go. Alright then.]

Lizzy takes a deep breath, and braces herself for impact.

[Chi. Ten.]

An explosion across the room erupts, engulfing the entire room in flames, followed by several consecutive explosions, and launching Lizzy backwards down the hall.

“Is it more than one intruder?” a muffled voice behind the door next to Lizzy rings out.

[Well, let’s see.]

Lizzy charges at the door with her shoulder.

[Ten-Chi.]

As the door opens, she spots an imperial soldier with their gun aimed at Sadu.

[Fuck no.]

The Raiton sails through the air, hitting the soldier square in the chest.

A shot rings out.

The lighting spun the guard, the gun was aimed at Lizzy.

She begins to feel a stabbing pain in her side.

[This is fine.]

Lizzy moves over to Sadu, “Good evening princess, care to be rescued?”

The blood starts to leak out of Lizzy, the red staining the otherwise blue outfit.

“I’m not a princess.” Sadu says, noticing the red, “You’re hit.”

Lizzy let’s out a fake chuckle, “Listen, even you have to admit that was a pretty good entrance.”

Sadu, growing irritated, “Untie me so we can get out of here, and get you some help.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, loss of blood. Hard to focus.”

Lizzy uses her daggers to effortlessly cut through the binds.

Sadu grabs Lizzy, and begins to half-carry her.

“How do we get out? Sadu asks.

“Ah, I didn’t think that far ahead to be honest. Should just go down a couple dozen halls, right?”

Sadu groans.

[Of course she didn’t think of a way out. How did this woman beat us at the Naadam.]

~~Dotharl Khaa~~

“So, Lizzy is going to be ok, right?” Sadu asks, impatiently.

Thancred looks at Lizzy laying in a cot in one of the xaela huts, “Yea, I’m sure she will, it’ll take more than a single garlean bullet to take her out.”

Sadu sighs with relief.

Catching herself, “It’d be a shame to lose such a fierce warrior so soon. After all.”

Thancred looks at her, trying to measure her feelings.

He opens his mouth, but decides to shut it, and walks away.

As he leaves, Sadu goes inside, and sits next to Lizzy’s cot.

After all, she shouldn’t be alone right now. That’s all.

“Oh, hi Sadu.”

She jumps, “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I am,” Lizzy says defensively.

“What, no sarcastic remark?”

Lizzy waits a beat, “No, not this time.” she pauses. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

[theawesomeally]

Before We Met (Preview)

Prologue

In a world inhabited by mythic creatures, love was commonplace several millennia ago, though difficult to master. After his training advances over the decades, his powers became obsolete and were largely discarded.

[The camera zooms in on the city and two blazing specks of light dash all over the place as one shoots lasers at the other. We then see an enemy aircraft flying throughout while it's chasing a young man, who is running from the pursuer. We see full closeups of a guy in his craft and Rocky as he runs. The scene freezes after an explosion with Rocky barely missing it.]

[voice over]

Through the years I have been known by many names. Marshmallow, The Furry Lover, The Daredevil, Frisky Two Times and then The amazing Ryan Reynolds. But to most, I am Rocky, the awesome one!

[Some other women, leaning across the wall, and Rocky getting his shades from his pocket. Put it onto his eyes. While he puts his hoodie onto his shoulders. Rocky was dressed like a gentleman, but he fought with honor or dignity and pulled at the knot into his tie. Females are not meant to grab his attention, and if it does. To be fair, he heard most of what he'd said up to this point. The parts that weren't of his interest, anyway.

Okay, maybe that wasn't much]

His sigh is heavy with exasperation,

"Can you keep your dick in your pants at the gala?"

Grab his phone from his pocket, automatically switching it out of Bluetooth mode, and bring his earphone up to his ear.

I will never forget you, Margarita. [The female stops and cringe after hearing the name. His blue prominent eyes were not well adapted to winking. They were rather of the sort that closes solemnly in slumber with majestic effect.

Rocky pretend to consider as Rocky step out of the car and button his tux jacket. "Hmm."

"Nice wheels, sir," the valet says, unconcerned that he was on the phone. Rocky pull out his wallet and flash a fifty-dollar bill. "Take care of her and this is yours."

"Yes, Mr. Rocky."

"I mean, Rosa. Uh...sorry. I think maybe I should go.???." She wrapped her arms over her chest and shook her head with a smirk curved across her face. Rocky grinned and raised an ironical finger in salute Rocky starts backing away. "You can't get away with it." the security guard muttered, holding out one hand. He was moving very slowly, thinking Rocky was the enemy or something. Blinks at her as a farewell, but glance with a smug as he sees the vampire's ring. Mind was so wrapped up in thought that he didn't notice the familiar vampire standing behind him. A vampire with bad breath psycho. "Hey, come on, dickie! You're trashing public property here!" He is thinking about how he had to sneaked up onto the roof and is currently standing a few feet behind him.

Rocky then gently slides the ring off the vampire's finger using his katana.

Light glinted off a myriad of his Katana and the vampire ring. Spray from the dust to blew up into his face, but sweat more than seawater moistened his palms as he gripped the eagle. His eyes were as blue while the vampires eyes were cold as the stormy weather.

"Hey, it's Gale calling," says Rocky called over his shoulder to one nefarious vampire. "Love the shiny suit. Really brings out the sex trafficker in your eyes." Rocky had commented, half jokingly and straight up confident, how that guy would have been considered handsome - if he ever bothered to smile.

Cut to a shot of a cliff.

A grim expression again carved itself into the soldier's face as he gazed up at the jeering vampires, their bodies smeared with blood, upon the cliff tops. Even the most cowardly of tribes in Gaul would fancy its chances from such advantageous ground, one being was mused. The sound of their jeers was occasionally accompanied by the high pitched swish of an arrow, as the odd archer tried his luck. Invariably the missile would zip harmlessly into the sea, or at best a thud could be heard as it struck as a human shield or the solid surface of the earth.

Cut back to the fighting scene. Rocky is skewering a guy with his swords, and kicks the vampire in the chest, sending him back down and puts his sword away. The guy gasp and starts fighting with Rocky. This continues for awhile until Rocky get's away again. Using two fingers he salute the vampire as a goodbye.

Making a soft chuckle. He flicks the vampire ring up into the air. It comes back down and lands into one of the streets, causing his background to explode. The shards of fire fell in slow motion behind him.

He is consumed in the explosion, as his body can be seen flying off the ground, flipping off the camera as it goes. "Oh, fuck." Rocky mutter under his breath. "Oh, I'm sorry." A small apology leaving his lips with a smirk.

"That will teach you, not to mess with me," A familiar voiced ask, up righting his head as he walk over the circles and appeared in front of him,

(narrator)

So, I know what you're thinking. Why is that incredibly handsome guy being chased by a madman with a huge shiny fangs from the Civil War?

[The scene freezes after an explosion sending Rocky flying off the ground from the ground. After the dust settles, leaving Rocky lying unconscious on the ground.]

This guy's got the right idea. Well, to be honest, it feels like I've been the captain of my whole life. Is this too much? Am I going too fast? It's kind of what I do--You know what? Let's back up.

[We see the whole fight going in reverse as well as frames of future clips for a split second each time, one passes as Rocky mimics a rewind sound effect] Cut to close-up of Rocky gets up to his feet. Cut to him sitting on the side of the gable roof at night. Wondering how long it would be before he saw the city again. He had been born with a wandering heart, and he embraced adventure, unafraid to face the dangers often presented by journeys into unknown places. Leaving civilization behind for the wilds of the frozen north, legs dangling over the side as he listens to his Walkman next to him playing 'Shoop.' Rocky was vaguely singing along, making hand gestures along with the lyrics, but he was focused on his own drawing, while listening to the music and coloring a picture with crayons. We see that the picture he's drawing is him shooting the vampire in the head, he was doing it with some crayons he had with him.

It was fun to see that getting shot in the head, even if it was just a crayon drawing. He'd never soon change it to a reality. And then turned his head and stared directly at the camera, or the person reading, or just whoever balls happened to be paying a lot of attention to him.

Wha- Oh! Oh, hello. I know, right? Who's balls did I have to snap to get my very own story? I can't tell you, but it does rhyme with dick. And let me tell you; he's got a nice pair of fucking underwear, he finished in an Swedish accent.

They'd get that joke, right?

Anyway, I got places to be, a kiss in the ass to fix, and - oh! hot weird vampire to kill.

He watched eagerly as the flashes of light began to appear below him – lots of rippers were a very dramatic little shit, after all – we're panning quickly towards the edge of the roof he was sitting on. Now having an appointment to keep, Rocky was quick to get onto edge of the roof and, in one fluid motion, opens a music playlist called Tunes of Anarchy on his Walkman, and the song "Where Evil Grows" by The Poppy Family stays playing in the background as he jumped off the roof, landing in one of the coolest bar in Mystic Falls. It seemed that they had been drinking peacefully, listening to 'Angel of the Morning,' but when Rocky landed and that's when their peaceful night was over.

They look around for which they finally see as Rocky stands at a wooden doorway wearing a cowboy hat, black sunglasses, and red a white hoodie as he opens a music playlist called Tunes of Anarchy on his Walkman. Opens up and the door swings open and the music resumes with people dancing and lights flashing as he goes inside the bar.

Nothing.

Absolutely positively not a fucking thing.

First one person turned, noticing him. Then more followed, until the whole patron was hushed, waiting. Everyone was watching, the same bewildered look on all of their faces. Eyebrows raised and narrowed eyes, etc. God, for months he'd played this moment over and over inside his mind. It most definitely never turned out like this. Whatever this was.

As he walks up to the bar. The room was narrow and about 90 feet deep. Light did manage to worm its way into the establishment, though. It seeped through the windows scattered along the walls, and through the gaps in the door between its wooden panels. A bar on the left at the front, then some upholstered horseshoe benches, then a cluster of freestanding tables on what, on other nights, might have been a dance floor. Then the stage, with the band on it. The band looked as if it had been put together by accident after a misfiling incident at a talent agency. The bass player was a stout old black guy in a suit with a vest. He was plucking away at an upright bass fiddle. The drummer could have been his uncle. He was a big old guy sprawled comfortably behind a small, simple kit. The singer was also a harmonica player and was older than the bass player and younger than the drummer and bigger than either one.

The guitarist was completely different. He was young and white and small. Maybe 20, maybe 5-foot-6, maybe 130 pounds. He had a fancy blue guitar wired to a crisp new amplifier and together the instrument and the electronics made sharp sounds full of space and echoes. The amp must have been turned up to 11. The sound was incredibly loud. It was as if the air in the room was locked solid. It had no more capacity for volume. But the music was good. The three black guys were old pros, and the white kid knew all the notes, and when and how and in what order to play them. He was wearing a red T-shirt and black pants and white tennis shoes. He had a very serious expression on his face. He looked foreign. Maybe Russian.

I watched them for a minute, and then I looked away. My name is Rocky, and once I was the most wanted man, with heavy emphasis on the past tense. I have been out nearly as long as I was in. But old habits die hard. I had stepped into the bar the same way I always step anywhere, which is carefully. One-thirty in the morning. I had ridden the train to West and walked south on Sixth Avenue and made the left turn on San Francisco bar and checked the sidewalks. I wanted music, but not the kind that drives large numbers of patrons outside to smoke.

His attention was taken away from patrons. It was at that point that he saw the young beautiful woman alone at her table, Her name tag read Katy, and her shirt clung tightly around her chest. Her hands worked quickly and gracefully with the bottles as she poured them another and took the empty's away.

I watched her in the gaudy, reflected light, with the music shrieking and pounding all around me. The two guys watched her. Her bodyguard watched her. She watched the guitarist. He was concentrating hard, key changes and choruses, but from time to time he would lift his head and smile, mostly at the glory of being up on the stage, but twice directly at the girl. The first of those smiles was shy, and the second was a little wider.

What met my eyes was a beautiful girl with golden hair and a bright smile that melted my heart. She was blond and blue-eyed, American woman who have a glow, and a smoothness complexion. She lives in New York, singing, listening to a band, and I was in love with her angelic voice. That was clear. There I was, a guy further back in the room, stood in the room staring at her. I was 6ft tall, wide man with a white hoodie and a black leather jacket under a hoodie. She was part of the reason I was here with her back in a city when we were at the age of 19 or less.

It wasn't the kind of glossy place that had a policy about dating rich girls, either for or against. Some call it a gold digger, and I guessed they had looked at her and her minder and made a snap decision against trouble and in favor of tips.

The part of her gaze that wasn't wary was filled with adoration, and it was all aimed in his direction. She was rich. She was alone at a table near the stage and she had a pile of A.T.M fresh twenties in front of her and she was paying for each new bottle with one of them and she wasn't asking for change.

She was a waitress and I loved her.

The woman stood up. She butted the lip of her table with her thighs and shuffled out from behind it and headed for the counter in back. I got there first. The sound from the band howled through it. The ladies' room was halfway down. The men's room was all the way at the end. Rocky leaned on the wall and scanned the room. As Rocky watched her walk in and squeeze through the crowd and she sat down on the bar stool, 1 feet away from him.

"Hey, Raoul, look what this kid dragged in. Oh, wait! That is the guy!," but they didn't hear. Too much noise. He caught them by the elbows, one in each hand. They spun around, as if ready to fight, but then they stopped. Fortunately for him, the first two who approached her were quick to heed her dismissal. She wasn't there to mingle with huge ass in leather jackets. She was just there to grab a drink and relax and pretty sure she made that pretty clear when she shot the first couple of idiots down.

The third guy, however, wasn't ready to take no for an answer.

"How about you let me buy you a drink, sweetheart?"

Their sex appeal eyes pried upon their eyes from the television screen above the bar and looked at the newcomer. With his hair greased back and one-size-too-big biker jacket on, the guy looked like prime wife-beater material. Perfect. Just what they needed to interrupt his evening.

"Thanks, but I'm good," she said curtly, gesturing to the beer bottle in front of her.

"That's it? You're gonna chug that shitty beer and call it a night? Come on, let me get you a real drink."

She scoffed. "What? Like those idiots you got over there?" she glanced past him at the table where he and a couple of his friends had been sitting.

"It's a warm-up. Trust me, honey, we're just getting started over there. You should join us."

She wanted to roll her eyes. "Like I said, I'm good."

She made the move to turn away and focus her attention back on the football game on the television when the guy grabbed her by the arm.

"What the hell's your problem?" This guy gripped her arm tightly, this guy's face practically scrunched up in a beastly snarl. "I don't like to be ignored, y'know?"

She yanked her arm out of his grip and stood up to face him directly. She knew pretty damn well where the conversation was headed and sure as hell were not about to get in a bar fight with their ass glued to the seat.

Before she could open her mouth, a familiar voice spoke up from behind her.

By hearing it and raising their head to turn to his voice, her smile grew a tad wider, recognizing the voice immediately. They simply looked so annoyed, at least much more than usual. His lips pulled into a tight frown, while their eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed, back hunched over slightly if you'd look hard enough. Yep, those guys are just being grumpy as usual, but seemingly much more grumpy, except with their eyes laced with the slightest bit of concern. For herself, most likely.

The said person stopped, and looked over their shoulder to the voice. She put on a mellow look close to her usual one. Confrontation- unnecessary confrontation- was not exactly his thing. He tended to avoid fights like these. He could hold his ground better than most, but he preferred to keep out of the brawls and spats that others got involved in.

A voice caught his ear, she sounded like she needed help, despite the overconfident tone the stranger used. "Look, I don't wanna interrupt, but is this guy bothering you?" he looks up at her and says greeted casually, as casual as someone could be hanging for dear life. She looked up at me, startled that he was there. "I'm sorry. Did I scare you up?" he softly asked, when she turned to get a good look at the stranger in his handsome voice. She wasn't expecting the sight she was met with. A pair of piercing blue eyes smiled over her, puffing out her cheeks childishly when she looked at him. After she looked to her right to find Rocky taking his place beside her. Her pinkish lips turned up in a small smile as she ducked her head briefly with a laugh before tucking her hair behind her ear, "No, you did not," she said. He couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice. She turned her head to look at him, catching his gaze with her own. He gave a small smile, stroking her hair softly with his index. "So, What exactly are you doing here?" she said softly, trying to maintain an even tone of voice.

"Oh you know, I was just passing through the neighborhood when I thought I caught a whiff of filthy human garbage coming from this place," he said,

"And sure enough here I am."

Desire pools dark and deadly in his groin. Gaze up at her, releasing her lip. Katy flush a deep crimson in her cheeks, and he runs his index finger down her cheek before handing her the headphones. "I'd like to kiss you, too, but you won't let me down, are you?." Rocky asked her. Besides, he's pulled the straps so tight he can barely move.

Amused smile on his lips, he's wearing his enigmatic half smile. He glances down at her, light blue-gray eyes alive, he glances up when she looks at his way and their eyes lock. And in that brief moment, she was paralyzed, staring at the impossibly handsome man who gazes at her with some unfathomable emotion. His gaze hot, burning into her, as they lost for a moment staring at each other.

It's there in the air between them, that electricity. It's palpable. He can almost taste it, pulsing between them, drawing them together.

"Oh my," she gasps as she basks briefly in the intensity of this visceral, primal attraction. The two men stood back, saying nothing, but looking at him with hard eyes.

Katy had, somehow, stammered out some sort of reply that must have made her look insane. Coby, hearing her, had come over to check on her and had ended up having her go make Rocky's a drink while they chatted. Ever since that first meeting, though, Katy had completely fallen for Rocky. There was something about his smile, or maybe it was his eyes? Whatever it was, it made Katy's entire body feel light as a feather.

To be continued....

[that-one-fandom-vore-blog]

The whole sky was spinning (I might have been drunk)

Written for @that-gt-and-vore-stuffs from the prompt: “Oh come onnnn! Do you really want me to starve?” Thanks, bud!

Going to a party with Kelly was one thing. Sam knew what to expect from her friend when the world seemed so far away and all that mattered was the thumping of music in the air-- a good amount of drunken laughter, sitting on the roof of her car, singing loudly along to whatever song was playing from inside-- they were things Sam had grown used to. 

But being with Adam at a party like this one wasn’t something she was used to. Not in the slightest. 

Truth be told, she hadn’t wanted to go. It was some thing for one of his friends, a football player, if Sam remembered correctly— which she’d found a little odd. Adam didn’t exactly fit into the jock category— a little too lanky, not to mention, he didn’t care all that much about sports— but he’d wanted to go.

He’d said it would just be a small get together— nothing fancy. He’d also offered to drive, and with a small flash of those puppy-dog eyes... Sam was all but helpless to sigh and agree to go. It had been worth it for his smile alone.

So there they were.

Sam was perched on his shoulder as they came up to the outside of the house. She could already smell what was happening— that party smell, one of sweat and booze, along with something burning. That last one caused concern to rise in her chest, though it was quickly combated by the sight of smoke rising from the backyard.

Bonfire.

The tension drained from her near instantly. Leaning up against Adam’s neck with a sigh, Sam grabbed the fabric of his shirt. “Are you sure it’s okay that I’m—“

“Babe, relax,” he soothed, “we talked on the way here, remember? They won’t mind.” There was a gentle tone in his words that made Sam feel a little more at ease. It wasn’t that he spoke poetry or anything like that— not even close— but his honest way of just saying what he wanted was something that had grown on her. She leaned a little closer to his neck.

“Okay...” She murmured, smiling softly.

“And,” he added, “I’ll have you back by your curfew. Eleven, right?”

Sam winced.

“...ten thirty?” He tried to amend, looking down at his watch. Sam didn’t bother looking with him.

It wasn’t too dark out yet— the sky a deep, navy color above their heads that held her attention. She couldn’t see any stars, not yet, but they’d come out eventually. Hopefully before her curfew. The party wouldn’t run all that long... right? Just long enough that she’d be able to lay on Adam’s chest and stare up at the stars for a few minutes before they headed back would be the ideal timeframe, and if she had to push her curfew a little later... she wouldn’t mind doing it.

“Yeah,” she responded, “what time is it, anyway?”

“Quarter to eight. Got dark fast tonight, huh?”

Sam nodded in response as Adam brought them both forward. She could hear music. Faint. Pulsing through the air and embedding itself in her chest, and with every step he took, it only grew louder in the air. It was a smallish house-- for a giant neighborhood, anyway. One story, for one, which probably explained why Adam didn’t bother knocking, instead, he simply waltzed his way around to the backyard and swung open the gate. 

Sam nuzzled a little closer to his neck, wary. It wasn’t as though she didn’t trust his friends, no, but... giants didn’t exactly have great track records when it came to drinking moderately, and although that was fine, the fact that they were so big compared to herself was... a little unnerving. She was fine with Adam, but a bunch of strangers? Not so much.

Eyes nervously scanning over the shapes of the others sitting around the roaring fire, Sam felt her little heart sink upon realizing that nobody her height was there. Not that she’d expected any other tinies to be there, but... she clung a little tighter to Adam’s shirt. 

“Hey!” 

The greeting that rose up was a little sluggish-- they’d already been drinking-- but it lacked no enthusiasm, and from the look on his face... Sam knew that they’d stay at the fire awhile. 

Getting introduced was awkward. She couldn’t remember any names— not that she’d be faulted for it— and she knew she wouldn’t be remembering any faces, either. Still, she’d smiled politely and nodded along to their words from where she sat on Adam’s shoulder. The only good part of the introductions was the fact that Adam had called her his girlfriend. It had made her cheeks light up pink.

It shouldn’t have— they’d been dating for three months— but... the tender, gentle tone in his voice when he said it was enough to make her heart flutter in her chest. Girlfriend. Like it was some precious thing. She’d caught him trying to sneak a glance, too, which had only made her blush deepen and caused her to bite back a grin. The other giants at the party had noticed and drunkenly teased their approval as Adam pulled up a chair and sat, cracking open a cold one.

It was going to be a long night. The portable speaker blared tirelessly on as the sky above grew darker. Sam had tried to be a part of the conversations for awhile— and they’d even included her, which had been an unexpected change— but once the topic shifted to sports... she’d given up on listening, leaning up against Adam’s neck instead and drinking in his warmth. It was intoxicating in a way. The only downside was the fucking noise.

Every time he brought his can to his lips, she could easily hear— and even feel him swallow enough liquid to fill up a bath for someone her size. There’d be a slight fizz as he gulped, too, growing faint quickly before disappearing entirely. It was a little hard to listen to, if she was being entirely honest. So instead, Sam focused on the lazy baseline filtering from the speaker as Adam began to down yet another can.

Isn’t he my ride home?

The thought made her heart sink a little, though she was quick to brush it off. She could just call Kelly to come get her, and Adam had only driven to pick her up— he could walk home.

She relaxed a little further, focusing on the fire that was slowly winding its way down. The coals were glimmering as one of the giants lightly nudged at it with a poker, causing one of the more burned logs to roll onto its side. The conversation had died down a little. It was nice, the words exchanged a bit nonsensical, sure, but Sam wasn’t paying them much attention. She was more focused on the soft sound of Adam breathing. More focused on the heat radiating from him. More focused on the smell of smoke in the air and the sounds of the small crowd starting to dwindle in number.

It was peaceful. Adam had been right. The gales of somewhat drunken laughter had been something she’d be able to do without, but... all in all, it was panning out to be a good night.

Until Adam hiccuped.

Sam squeaked at the sudden, sharp noise, and when his body jolted, she felt herself slipping forward and off his shoulder. Unable to grab ahold of anything, Sam knew it wasn’t a far fall to his lap, but—

Before she could properly panic about her loss of balance, the familiar surface of his hands were beneath her. It was a clumsy catch. She couldn’t complain— a catch was a catch, after all— and she exhaled a soft laugh. “I— s-sorry, I lost my balance...” Looking up, she couldn’t help but laugh softly at the somewhat confused look on his face, though... it quickly melted to a look of fondness.

“Oh... you’re—“ he broke into a hiccup, and Sam bit her lip hard to hide a laugh when she was lifted closer, “—cute.”

He’s so out of it.

She knew he couldn’t hold his alcohol well in the slightest, but seeing him like this was nothing short of hilarious. Despite the fact that he looked hazy and unfocused, the genuine affection that was showing on his face was downright adorable. Grinning, she tapped on the end of his nose. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased back, giving a giggle when his cheeks dusted with pink in the firelight.

Hiccuping, he mumbled something that she couldn’t quite make out, though from the way it caused his blush to turn darker, she knew right away she had to figure it out. She cocked her head innocently. “Say something?”

He sighed. Lifting his head, he opened his mouth to speak. A hiccup interrupted him, causing his hands to jolt slightly. Sam nearly lost her balance— and her struggle to regain it, she almost missed his words.

“I have a girlfriend...” He mumbled, sheepishly, “so I shouldn’t have... shouldn’t have told you...”

Now this was just adorable. Sitting down on his palm, putting her back up against his fingers, Sam tried to keep her composure and nodded. “Ah, that makes sense. You’re definitely the sort of guy who deserves a pretty girl.”

His smile was normally crooked, but now? It was nothing short of completely goofy. “Oh... yeah, she’s... she’s beautiful...” Hands jolting with another hiccup, Adam glance over at the other partygoers with a wistful look that made it clear he was seeing right through them. “She’s... shes real smart, too... head’s all...” He broke off to wave one of his hands dismissively in the air before sipping at his drink, “full. Of facts. Buncha big... numbers.”

Sam covered her mouth and took a deep breath. She was not going to laugh at him. Not yet, at least, lest he realize— this was fun. “She sounds nice.”

“She IS! She’s the nicest... always... full of nice-ness—“ a hiccup jolted from his throat, though he was quick to bounce back. “—an’ she’s real... real good at words... like poetry sometimes, a-a-and she’s always... so nervous... it’s really cute...”

It was Sam’s turn to be bashful. “Oh?”

“Yeah...” he breathed, a warm blast of air from his maw enough to remind her of how close she was to his face. “She’s... she looks a lot like you... ‘cept she doesn’t always... doesn’t always wear glasses like yours... but she has a real pretty... f-face... and pretty thoughts...”

Sam snickered.

Adam’s expression turned a little offended. “She does!” He insisted, drawing himself closer, nearly bumping his nose against her. “All those... pretty thoughts in her pretty head...”

“Adam,” Sam prompted, causing him to trail off and settle his lovestruck eyes on her. She’d had her fun. Laughing, she stood up on tiptoe and leaned close to him. “Can I tell you a secret?”

He leaned closer as well. She could not only feel his breath but smell it, too, more than evidence of the fact that he’d been drinking. “Sure...” He slurred out, holding onto the “S” sound a little too long.

Sam pressed her hands against his cheek. “I am Samantha Brown.”

He blinked. He looked almost like a befuddled little puppy as he cocked his head, brow furrowing confusedly. “...who?”

The laughter that overtook Sam was nothing short of spontaneous. Her whole body shook from the force. She was glad to be laying against Adam’s fingers— otherwise, she would’ve fallen straight off his hand. “Your girlfriend, goof.”

The look of bewilderment that crossed his face only made her laugh harder, closing her eyes until something brushed against her— Adam, nuzzling up to her. “You should’ve told me!” There was a genuine sort of irritation in his voice, the words coming out all together in a moan. “’Cos then I could’ve...”

His lips pressed up against her face, a pleased little noise pulling from his throat. It vibrated through her. Laughing softly, she returned the gentle contact as well as she could, small lips pressing against his own. It was a little clumsy, but... he was pretty sloshed. One of her hands found his jawline, fingers running along his chin. When he pulled away, leaving her laying across his palm, she tilted her head with a small smile. 

“Babe...” She murmured, “how many did you--”

He hiccuped. “Th...ree... I think...”

Lightweight.

Snickering softly, she carefully sat upright and sighed. “So you’re not going to be my ride home, huh?” 

The party had all but died out-- though to be fair, it hadn’t been much of a full party to begin with. It had been mellow from the start, different than the full ragers that she frequented Kelly. Maybe it was because they’d stayed outside the whole time-- maybe it was the calming night air, or the fire, but... it had a different atmosphere. It was sort of nice. 

Most of the other partygoers had either coupled off or left. The music had been switched off some time ago, leaving them with the low hum of conversations happening around the backyard and the sound of the fire burning itself out. Sam barely heard it. She was more focused on the soft sound of Adam breathing, along with her own heart thumping in her chest. 

His eyes were full of genuine adoration, and in a way, it was almost disorienting. True, he looked at her all the time-- but never... quite like this. It was making butterflies flutter lightly in her stomach. 

“Have I told you... I really love you... l-like... a lot...” 

His voice made her chest vibrate, ribs buzzing with the sheer magnitude it held compared to her own. She felt small, sure, but... not unsafe. Not in the slightest. Her face was brilliantly red, now, damn near scarlet. She coughed.

Adam’s lips brushed against her side, not in a kiss, but in a clumsy attempt to nuzzle up to her. “I mean it! I love you, like... a whole lot!” 

Pushing him away, Sam looked up into those gentle blue eyes he had. A warm feeling rose across her body. “I love you, too,” she admitted through a soft giggle. 

His whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. If time were to stop, allowing her only to view the way his grin was crooked and genuine, only to look at his eyes that were crinkled around the corners, Sam wouldn’t mind it. Not at all. 

“Really?” His eyebrows raised, and although he was still grinning, still blushing warmly, Sam could tell from his voice alone that he was seriously asking. It was enough to make her giggle at him again. 

“’Course,” she promised. Would he remember this in the morning? It was hard to tell. Judging by his... everything, Sam was pretty certain that a hard “no” was probably the best answer. When he moved closer again, Sam pressed one of her hands up against the end of his nose. “Hang on a sec, babe,” she murmured, reaching into her pocket to fish out her phone. The plastic bag holding it crinkled. It was something she’d learned to keep over the device— after all, with her history of ending up in... somewhat damp places, Sam had learned from experience. The bag stayed.

A little whine pulled from Adam. Again, he tried to nuzzle against her.

As much as she felt a little bad for making him wait... she needed a ride home, and soon. 

Nearly eleven. Shit.

It looked like she wouldn’t be making her curfew... though... her mother hadn’t texted yet. Maybe she was working late. Maybe she wouldn’t notice that her daughter wasn’t home. It was a long shot, sure, but maybe--

“Sam...” Adam whined out, setting his chin on the end of his hand, nose lightly brushing against her. “What’re you--”

“Lemme ask Kelly for a ride, okay? Then I’m all yours for... however long I can stall for.” 

Thumbing quickly, she opened up Kelly’s contact and shot off a quick request for a ride. She’d be awake, and if not... she’d just stay the night at Adam’s. No big deal-- she’d done it before, and while it wasn’t something her mother had enjoyed, having her daughter spending more time with “that giant”, it hadn’t gone over too poorly, all things considered. 

Sam: hey, can u come pick me up? I’ll be at Adam’s p quick, but he’s sorta out of it.

She hit send just before Adam butted her with his nose again and made a low noise in the back of his throat. A laugh pulled from her, and with a quick peck to his cheek, she shook her head. “Somebody’s clingy, hm?” She teased, lightly. Pulling away with a soft smile, she patted his cheek. “C’mon. Time to go.”  

Adam frowned. “S’it... ten thirty... already?” He asked, jostling Sam when he stood. His legs seemed a little wobbly under him, though he seemed to be trying his best to keep Sam from being in any sort of discomfort. “Shit... I wasn’t payin’... attention...” 

“It’s okay,” Sam reassured him with a pat to his hand, “I... It’s just about eleven, though, so we should... really get going.” Being so far above the ground in the grasp of a drunken giant certainly wasn’t something Sam could say she was comfortable with, but he only lived a few blocks down the street, so... she wasn’t all that concerned. He’d make it, and if he didn’t, her and Kelly could probably get him the help he needed. 

Probably.

Bracing herself heavily on his thumb and smiling softly as he took a step forward, Sam internally readied herself to be his navigator. She didn’t pay much attention to the goodbyes hollered his way, nor did she pay much attention to the direction Adam picked to walk. At least his instinct as to which way he needed to walk was right-- she only had to steer him in the right direction a few times, and he listened well enough when she did.He was fairly easy to coax back toward his house, though to be fair, it wasn’t all that far. 

The only difficulty was the fact that he wouldn’t stop nuzzling up against her, which made it had to navigate. He was making contented noises, too, humming happily and murmuring words that were too slurred together to make out properly. 

“Is this why you don’t drink?” She asked him as he stumbled, holding her up to his face. 

“...I do drink. Hydration.”

Sam stifled a laugh as well as she could manage. “Right, yeah, but... are you always like this at parties?” 

He had to think about that one. His walking slowed for a moment before stopping entirely, allowing him to shake his head without falling too far off balance. “I... don’t know,” he admitted, slowly, before breaking into a giggle that was absolutely a new thing for him. 

Sam loved it. Her own laughter joined his own in the night, and when he began walking again, she clambered her way up his sleeve to sit on his shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind, now focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Sam leaned against his neck. They weren’t too far from his place, and already, she’d mentally resigned herself to the notion of staying the night. After all, her mother already didn’t like him, so... what was the harm in it? It wasn’t like she could hate him any more than she already did. 

That in her mind, Sam stayed mostly quiet as Adam hummed and mumbled his way up to the front of his house, where he spent a good few minutes fumbling with the keys. When he finally got the door open, Sam allowed herself to be lifted in his gentle grip and brought up to his face. He looked proud of himself, and after a moment-- he was kissing her again. Sam didn’t resist. 

She didn’t resist as he stepped inside, and she even didn’t resist as she heard the door swing closed behind them both-- but what threw her for a loop was when she felt something wet and faintly warm on her body, dragging easily across her front. 

“Adam!” She squealed, earning a soft noise of protest when she pulled away, falling against his palm. 

His tongue was still hanging out from between his lips when he looked down at her, visibly confused. Withdrawing it, he cocked his head. “What?”

Bringing a hand up to wipe at her hair, feeling it come away spit-soaked, she gave an incredulous scoff. “You licked me!” It had happened before, sure, but now? He clearly wasn’t in his right mind. 

He furrowed his brow. “Oh.”

The way he said it alone was enough to make Sam have to hold in a laugh. Swatting a glob of drool off her cheek, she tried to find some words, but--

His tongue pressed against her again. Harder this time. It lingered longer, too, coating her entirely in strings of drool before he pulled away, shooting her a needy glance. His eyes were half-lidded, blearily focused on her face. “Sam... c’mon...” He murmured, gently. His breath seemed muggier than normal as it washed over her, ruffling her hair and smelling of cheap beer.  “It’ll be fine...”

Shifting a little on his palm, feeling spit soaking through the thin fabric of her shirt, Sam crossed her arms. “I really don’t want to have to explain to my mom in the morning why I’m covered in spit-- and you were drinking! It’ll be like a bath!”

A little whine tugged up from his throat. “But I didn’t eat anything... and it won’t be that bad...” As if on cue, his stomach gurgled lowly, more than proving its emptiness. He coupled it with a pout, sticking out his lower lip and creasing his brow. 

“Babe,” Sam started in a warning tone of voice, “I like this shirt.”

“It... s’not gonna stain...” 

When he opened his mouth again, she was ready, and managed to step just out of his range, teetering on the ends of his fingers. The look that crossed his face was nothing short of priceless. When he spoke, he sounded more exasperated than anything else. “Oh come onnnn! Do you really want me to starve?”

“You’re not gonna starve,” Sam said through a laugh, “and you’re not going to get anything by whining...” 

Maybe the party had rubbed off on her. Maybe it was the way that he seemed so loosened up that caused her to stand a little taller and grin at him. “At least... not unless you ask nicely.”

His demeanor changed in a snap. No longer moping, Adam stood a little straighter and all but pranced over to the couch, which he was quick to sit himself down on, still balancing Sam gently on his palm. She could practically feel the excitement coming off him in waves, and while if he’d done this a month ago, she’d be terrified, now? It was sort of endearing. 

She crossed her arms. “Well?” She prompted. 

Adam swallowed heavily. “...please?” He tried, voice wobbling a little.

“...please what?” Struggling not to laugh at the way he chewed on his lip, Sam kept one brow quirked as her boyfriend struggled to find his words for a moment. 

“Can...can I please.. can I please eat you?” He asked in a voice so small that Sam would never have guessed it belonged to the gentle giant holding her. It was quiet, and laced with a genuine sort of gentleness that made her feel a little less like she was only a meager three inches tall. 

More than a little aware of the fact that his eyes were trained on her like those of a hawk hunting a mouse, Sam tapped a finger against her chin in mock thought. “Mm... since you did ask so nicely...” Turning her eyes to meet his, the tiny girl sighed and brought her hands down to her sides. “Alright.” 

It happened faster than normal. 

One minute, she’d been standing on his palm, and the next, her surroundings were warm, wet, and oh so alive. A tongue curled around her, drawing her further into the damp heat of his jaws, and although her legs did clip up against his teeth... she didn’t feel any fear. None. Instead, she relaxed, allowing herself to be toyed with a little. 

My mom’s going to kill me.

She smirked a little at the thought. Maybe this was why Kelly was always so adamant that she should try being her own person for a change. After all, she never would’ve tried anything like what she was doing now had she allowed her mother’s own fears to manifest in her head. 

Feeling herself get squished up against the roof of Adam’s mouth,Sam gave a small laugh, one hand patting the surface of his tongue somewhat gently. She knew she was being tasted. She probably tasted like campfire, and judging by the sheer amount of saliva puddling in the dark around her, she could safely guess that he enjoyed it. A hum vibrated her surroundings. 

He sounded genuinely happy. 

Sam stayed completely limp as she felt her surroundings all tilt back, though she did flinch a little at the feeling of her shoes touching the back of his throat, slipping a little into the dark tunnel before--

A small gulp pulled her downward. His tongue rose, arching slightly to angle her toward his throat, and with another loud swallow that echoed wetly around her, Sam felt herself get pulled down and fully into the slick tunnel of his throat. She stayed still, feeling the muscles greedily pushing her tiny form down press and tug at her. She could hear his heartbeat increasing in volume as she slid further and further into his chest, hear the gentle noise of his breathing, coupled with waiting, hungry gurgles from the chamber below her. 

It didn’t take her long to spill into the darkness. 

The first thing Sam was made aware of as her little body hit the dark chamber of Adam’s belly was the liquid that splashed up around her upon her arrival. It wasn’t cold— not shockingly so, anyway, having been warmed up by his body— but it was still a little disorienting to end up mostly submerged in lukewarm beer. She struggled to get a little ways out of the warm liquid, pressing her back flush against one of Adam’s stomach walls.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Sam huffed up at him, raising her voice in order to be heard.

A noise that sounded almost like a full, contented purr rolled up around her, vibrating the walls that encased her. “Thank you...” He murmured in response.

Sam stretched out as the chamber shifted, the walls around her contracting for a moment as Adam stretched, clearly settling down. Everything in his gut sloshed as he laid on his back, and although Sam would normally protest... he was clearly out of it. Instead, she sighed and reached for the wall now sagging above her to lightly run her hands along his stomach lining, palms sinking into the fleshy surface.

The contented little growl that shook her to her core was more than a bit of an indicator that her movement was well received. The tension around her drained even further if that was possible. Smiling in the dark, listening to the noises of his inner workings along with his steady breathing and heartbeat, Sam shook her head fondly.

“Anytime, babe.”

The silence that fell between them wasn’t really a silence at all. It was punctuated by low rumbles and gurgles that rang in the air around Sam, and although his stomach was actively churning, she didn’t find it all that hard to get comfortable. It was warm. Soft. Safe in a way that made her smile just thinking about it. After all— what could harm her in here?

Her feelings of being at ease only grew as Adam gently pressed his hands against her from the outside, tracing circles lightly over the same spots that she pressed at his stomach lining. No words were exchanged, though both could feel the other shivering at the movements.

Sam could feel her heart syncing up with his own, the gentle, pulsing vibrations in the walls lining up with the thumping from her own chest. Her internal massage slowed a tad, eventually transitioning to her lying still on her back, listening to the clear sounds of his contentment.

Until it was interrupted by a buzz from her back pocket.

All at once, it came flooding back. Kelly. It was easy to forget the outside world even existed when she was tucked away in Adam’s stomach, and in truth, she already had forgotten it was there, but as she fished out her phone in the darkness, she was reminded of the fact that the clock did continue to tick steadily forward, no matter where she was.

When the light of her phone illuminated her surroundings, highlighting the pinkish walls around her, Sam had to squint until her eyes adjusted to the lighting. It was hard to read through the plastic bag’s folds, but after a moment, she managed. A string of messages from the past half hour stared back at her.

Kelly: I feel the need to inform you that it’s almost midnight

Kelly: is this about that party thing?

Kelly: did he get fuckin wasted?

Kelly: took what? 2 sips?

Kelly: ur dating a lightweight

Skimming though a couple more like those, Sam’s gaze finally settled on the last message.

——————

Kelly: I’ll rescue u tho u owe me,,, be there in 5

——————

Kelly: u kno what? Fuck u. I’m going to sleep.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer Chapter 15: Hindsight

Tonight was the night Isaac died and my journey would truly begin. There was nothing I could do about it. 

The violence of the moment haunted my dreams: the screams, the blood, the uncontrollable urge to viciously attack those people until they stopped moving. My pulse raced with the memories. My head ached, wrestling with the idea that even with my father’s powers there was nothing I could do to change anything.

Confined to my floor, dancing was my only outlet. The hardwood of the hallway and the full length windows served as a nice place to stretch and do exercises. Counting out the rhythm forced my mind away from the coming carnage and instead on the point of my toes.

Snow swirled from the clouds, sending a blinding blanket over the city. From the highrise, visibility was near zero and the windows rattled against the blustery gales.

Previous Chapter

Go Back to the Beginning

My servitor guard drifted behind the glass like an aimless cloud , watching me, following my movements with its intense stare.  It lifted one tendril like limb against the glass, drawing it downward across my body.

“Ielia?”

She swirled out of my necklace, floating in mid-air, hair adrift on some intangible wind.

 “I want to know what happened to this person. Is there any way to talk to it?”

She nodded, smiling, and drifted past me into my bedroom. She instructed me to take a pen and follow her finger to draw on the wall of the room. With her help, I traced around a circle, added triangular shapes and swirling tick marks. In a few moments, I’d drawn some sort of pentagram style shape. My father's scale grew warm against my skin as I gazed at it. 

Like Isaac's medallion in the Cassell library, it reacted to the drawing on the wall.

Echoing voices and ghostly figures surrounded me. I saw a woman. I recognized her as the matriarch, years younger, walking in the hall, passing by the door. She was walking next to two other men. I followed her out and hear their voices.

“This research is my life’s work,” Said one of the men. He wore a fancy suit spangled with what looked like military medals. “With it, we’ll be able to make powerful hybrids capable of not only defeating the Dark King, but also becoming what we need to finally unite the world.”

“Ambitious.” said the other man, who looked a bit like Isaac but much older. “I’m honored you’ve decided to use our alchemical facility and invest in our company…”

The matriarch was equally enthused. “With this investment we’ll finally be able to meet our growth targets and beyond. But … I still would like to ask why you picked us?”

Before I could think about it further, I heard more voices behind me.  “An accident?”

I whirled, startled. It was her again, the matriarch. Her voice was on the verge of tears on the phone. “But how? I’ll be there right away.”

Her image dissipated into thin air. More voices reached my ears, this time coming from the bedroom.

Walking back in, I saw a vision of the older man who had been so honored to work with the guy with the medals. He was lying in the bed that I slept in, receiving IV treatments. “Are you sure this is going to work? He doesn’t seem to be getting any better,” said the Matriarch who was standing at his side.

I was plunged into darkness. A little girl’s voice was close to my ear. “Daddy?”

A tiny body lay on the floor, missing her head.  I heard the matriarch screaming, “Charlotte!  Charlotte!” Her voice rising and breaking in pain and terror.

Standing over her was my servitor guardian. The bed was covered in blood, the IV drip tipped over.

The gong of the grandfather clock broke the visions, setting my heart racing. The lights never came back on. I reached over to flip a switch but nothing happened. The power had gone out in truth.

As I stared out into the blizzard, a winged shadow grew larger and larger until the glass shattered and the shards mixed with the sparkling snow on the carpet.  A hulking beast with glowing red eyes and clawed hands at the end of long muscular arms let out a low threatening snarl. 

Before I could scream, my servitor guardian wrapped it in its own wraith-like body. Red blood flowed from the intruder’s neck down its shoulders and onto the carpet. The monster fell forward, its head missing from its body.

Breathless with terror, I ran from the room to get to the elevator. I skidded to a halt. The elevator door was open and a tall figure of a man dressed in a kimono stood in it. It was then that I found my voice.

As the screams tore from my throat, he ran toward me, his body distorted, stretching as he grew nearer, the flying folds of his large sleeves flaring out like wings. He was almost on me by the time I turned to run. The hall in front of me twisted into a spiral and I staggered into the wall as if drunk.

An arm grabbed me around my waist and jerked me toward the windows.  My paralyzed limbs didn’t respond to my efforts to fight. My voice had gone silent despite my efforts to continue calling for help.

He raised a sword and smashed it against the glass. He climbed atop the pane. My head was dangling in the cold and the wind, spinning twenty stories up. The snow was falling past me, down into the streets below.

The next moment, I was back inside. I hit the floor, my head bouncing off the hardwood so hard I saw stars. I dug the heels of my hands in, scrambling away, breathless. Behind me, the attacker and the servitor were locked in a furious wrestling. The faint moonlight illuminated his platinum blond hair and the half mask over his eyes.

He ran his sword through the heart of my guardian and it went limp, its smoky appearance starting to drift upward and lift like fog.

I whimpered when he turned his attention back to me, his eyes red and bright in the dark, his expression blank. He strode forward. 

I threw out my hands and felt his dragon’s blood, deep and powerful like an ocean tide. Far stronger than what was in the child I’d healed. Despite its strength, I called out my father’s words, “Release!”

That fire that burned at the young Tobias set the dragon in him ablaze and brought him to his knees, groaning in pain. I got to my feet and kicked his sword away, grabbing it myself. As I backed away, I was startled by a pair of golden eyes in the window.  I dropped the sword. The metal blade clattered to the floor.  “Johann?!”

It wasn’t Johann. The face in the window was my face. The gold eyes were my eyes. I was the one holding the sword.

A strong pulse went through my head. I turned to my attacker. The mask had fallen off and I could see his face was pale because it was covered in white makeup. He looked up at me, reaching out in a pleading gesture. “What… what have you done to me…?”

I dropped to my knees, beset by visions of two little boys dancing and playing together, one saying to the other. “Wait for me, Chisei!”

“Chisei? Chisei Gen?” Behind that vision was an intense loneliness. I felt the crushing weight of it.  "Where am I?" 

“In my dream, my memory…” I heard the man in the kimono’s voice but I couldn’t see him, only two boys, playing together in a grassy field.

“Chisei and I were together, as brothers. But while he became the heir to the Clan Chief, I was a Devil and cast out by my family.”

“Who are you? What do you want with me?” My eyes searched for where he was, but he wasn’t visible.

“I am Ruri Kazama. I … I don’t know how I got here. I think I was supposed to take you with me. That’s all I know.” He sounded confused.

The scenery of children morphed until I was in a dimly lit stone room. The only furniture was an old table, a chair, a bed, a few scattered toys. I can see him now walking over to one of the toys, a stuffed bear, looking down at it.

“This is the place where I grew up, alone. He never visited me in the secret mountain village.”

“Where the Devil children are locked away?” I retreat until my back was against the wall, searching for a way out.

“Yes…” He looked at me in surprise. “...how do you know this? Are you hearing my thoughts?” He flinched, arms wrapping about his abdomen, doubling over. “My powers… I’ve lost control of them. What did you do?”

I started to feel worried that I’d actually hurt him but I was afraid to approach in case he tried to attack me again.

Ruri Kazama's gaze unfocused, and he turned away, staggering to lean against the wall. “I’m seeing your memories… Chisei… he’s killing members of the Devil Clan? I don’t remember this…”

“It hasn’t happened yet… It happens soon… I want to save the children from him…”

We both awoke at the same time. Ruri Kazama was on the floor, one hand clutching his head, teething grinding together. He had broken out into a cold sweat. I slowly got to my feet and backed away. 

A pair of hands seized my shoulders from behind. I jerked to get away but they held fast.

“Ah, so this is why I was asked to come along on this mission… because you’re too fragile to capture a little girl.”

As soon as I wrestled myself free, I caught a blow to my jaw. My ears rang and my whole face went numb. Dizzy, I staggered to the floor.

“Honestly… no wonder I have a higher body count.”

I raised my eyes to a face that sent such a chill through me I cried out. It was the man from the park. The one who strangled me. My whole body started to tremble. This time, Chisei wasn’t here to save me. I would have gone back in time only to die in the past.

The sight of my wide-eyed terror made him smile. Gleeful, he tittered like a child.  “Ah… she looks like fun. Too bad this one is so valuable to Osho’s Blade that he would probably kill me if I left a mark on her.”

Two servitors were behind him, one was holding an unconscious Tobias, the other was dragging Lukas along by his arm.

The way he was leering at me was the same as before when he dragged me into the woods by my foot. “Come along, little one…” He bent over to take hold of me.

I pushed myself against the wall, cowering away from him.

He would have succeeded were it not for Ruri Kazama. He was back on his feet. His Speaking Spirit poured out of him again, and we were all plunged into a nightmare scenario. 

We were in an institution with dozens of other children. They screamed, struggled, and cried as they were injected with needles. A hand, larger than life, reached for me. I struggled to keep away from it, but I was powerless.

I stared up towards a window into a night sky filled with stars and the colorful lights of the Aurora Borealis. I’d seen those stars so many times, I knew them by heart because I focused on them while I was injected again… and again… and again...

These weren’t my memories, they were his. My attacker’s. 

“Kazamaaaaa!” He shrieked. “You Bastard! STOP! STOP IT!” Roaring with despair, he fled from me and down the hall. Kazama, faster than my eye could follow, retrieved his sword and cut down the two servitor beasts holding my friends captive.

“You need to get out of here.” He told me, “If you don’t leave now, you’ll never have another chance. Once Osho’s Blade gets you, you won’t be able to escape.” He stood in the dark, blood running in rivulets down his blade to form a puddle on the floor.

“I can’t go back to Cassell!” I cried with despair. 

“Then is there somewhere else?”

I looked into his crimson eyes. “Those memories you showed me. Is the place still there? Still like that?”

He gave me a puzzled look. “Yes…”

“Are there children there?” 

“Yes, the mountain village is… but you shouldn’t go there.” He shook his head. “It’s dangerous.”

I stood up. “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.” I felt I was acting blindly, flailing into the dark, jumping off a bridge into surging waters, unsure if I could swim.

I ran to Lukas and Tobias and took their hands. There was nothing I could say to warn them that we were going to get them and the children trapped by the Devil Clan out of harm’s way. I didn’t have time to explain. Like a canary, faced with an open cage and an open window, I darted into the unknown.

I closed my eyes and focussed on Japan, on that room with the table and chairs.

Silence and cold descended in a black curtain. I counted out the seconds. One… two… three…

We reemerged, staggering into the room Ruri had shown me in vision. I panted like I'd just climbed flights of stairs. I looked at Lukas and Tobias. Tobias was awake and trembling with terror. Lukas looked disoriented. "There are more children here. But first I need to heal you, Lukas. If you use your dragon strength you might turn like Isaac did."

Lukas leaned his hand against the ground, staring at me with wide eyes, searching for answers. "I don't understand any of this."

"Your grandmother was planning on selling my eggs to some doctor but I guess kidnapping me was a cheaper option.” I paused, reaching up and placing my hands on his face. "This will hurt for a moment…." I opened my mouth to that draconic language.

Lukas flinched away as though hit by an electric shock.  He staggered back, staring at me, then he groaned and sank to the floor.

I looked at him with sympathy but I didn’t apologize. "The Cassell College will work with their Japan division tomorrow night to wipe out the Devil Clan.  We need to get the children trapped here healed and gone before they get here." 

“What did you do?”  He was visibly shaking and unable to stand. “This hurts…” 

“Your dragon’s blood is high purity like mine. You’re unstable like Isaac was. I used my Speaking Spirit on you, like I did on Tobias.” I moved to a window and peer outside. “This is where Japanese unstable children are held. If I don't free them, they’re going to die with the rest of the Devil Clan. Can you help me?”

“We’re in Japan? But how?! Why did you bring us here!” He stared at me in wide-eyed shock.

“You were getting kidnapped by bad people!” I can feel my breath rising with all of the unexpected questions that I couldn’t answer. “And these kids need my help! I don’t have time to explain!”

He got up, coming towards me, hands balled into fists. “Explain now!”

I take a step back away from him, my back was against the wall. “I can move through space. Through gates. I think the Nibelungen ones.” I stammered for an explanation but the truth was I didn’t know how and I wasn’t about to explain where I got my powers from.

“How!” He loomed over me and I found myself cowering again.

“I just can okay! Please, are you going to help me or…” I stood up straighter. “...or should I just leave you here!” At that moment, I knew I threatened him. I felt guilty, but I didn’t know what else to do.

He swallowed hard. We stood in silence for a few seconds before he finally gave in. “Alright.”

Shaking with nervous emotion, I sent Ielia to scout outside. The village was dark and looked empty but she returned looking panicked and gestured frantically. “Servitors?”

She nodded. 

"Are we gonna die?" Tobias whimpered, clinging to his brother.

"Stay in here." Lukas gave him a comforting hug.

"Can you hold those servitors off until I rescue them?" I asked.

“I can, I’ve been trained to be able to fight.” Admirably, Lukas went outside and blew a loud whistle through his fingers. The hulking reptilian giants turned and immediately pursued him.

He spoke in clear draconic, “Speaking Spirit: Blessing of Ice!”  and a large whirlwind bearing shards of ice blew into them, knocking them back, cutting and impaling them. It was an impressive sight.

I dashed as fast as I could into dark and dingy housing. My twin used the bright spear to knock down locked doors. I hurried to the rose of cages. There was no time to really explain to the youngsters what was going on, why this strange person was breaking them free, so they screamed and kicked and bit at me until I returned them into the room with Tobias.

The raging dragon blood in my body was changing me. My skin was itching. My eyesight was blurring.  I forced myself not to think about it. My nerves, my heart strained every time I used Release to halt the progression of the children’s instability. I detached myself from their pain and fear. I didn't want them to turn into monsters on the jump to another place. If I didn’t do this, they were going to die, sooner or later. That’s what I told myself. After about thirty minutes, I'd managed to collect about a dozen. 

Tobias was brave, trying to calm the growing crowd of terrified and crying youngsters. "Don't cry." He said. "Charlotte saved me. She'll save you too."

“Charlotte?” I asked, confused.

“Yes, that’s the name my Grandmother started calling you. Charlotte Ouroboros Comemnus…”

I wrinkled my nose. “What an ugly name. Charlotte’s… okay I guess.” I filed it away as yet another placeholder.

Lukas returned to me. "There's more servitors coming! We have got to go." 

Out of time, I turned to my dirty disheveled rescues. They were huddled together, staring at me, wide eyed with fear.

For a brief moment, I wanted to return with them to Cassell. But I was still there at that time, on a plane flight to Japan. They would wonder how I could be two places at once. I didn’t know how they would react if they found out I was the daughter of a dragon, of the enemy. I didn’t know how my father would react if I told them.

I knelt in front of the group. I was so tired. They cowered away from me clinging to one another.

"Alright everyone, we're going to be free. I'm taking you so you don't have to live in cages any more." I looked at them all in turn. "I know you're scared, so everyone hold hands. Lukas, make sure they're all holding tight to each other."

A few of them began to cry, a roar came terribly close.

I took a deep breath and focussed, closing my eyes, lowering my head. One by one, the stars I saw in the vision of the lab pinpointed their way into an inky black sky in my imagination. Things were suddenly clear in my head. I could see where I was going. Only it was far, so very far. 

The world turned dark and cold.

One… two… three…

A heaviness overcame me. I felt like I was sinking. This felt wrong. I grew more and more frightened as I lingered in that cold and frigid darkness.

I was losing grip on my thoughts. My focus on my destination was fading. I pulled hard with all the strength I had left, my mind reaching through the dark, to the pinpoint of light, the goal.

The sound of rushing wind filled my ears. Warm sea air hit my senses. I was laying in the grass. 

"Charlotte!" I heard Lukas say, fear in his voice.

He was scared, scared for me. My hands, they were claws! My skin had turned scaly. I was still turning into a servitor? No, I couldn’t! Not now!

"Release!" I focussed the words on myself now. The fury of my dragon's body burst inside collapsing me. The head-on impact of the words against the full momentum of my blood rage sent me spinning with pain . It hurt so much I couldn't breathe or scream, or think.

I choked, letting out strangled gasps from air. I wanted to pass out. I wanted to die.

My vision dimmed. With my strength leaving, I squeezed a voice out of my dry throat. "Did we make it?"

His answer sounded far away as I sank under waves of pain. "We made it."

Next Chapter

[blade-king-luze]

Message from the Mun!

OOC: Hello! Gale here!  While Luze is busy here editing his stories out, I want to send a message to all of you that stopped by.

Thank you so much, everyone for the little likes you guys leave behind from the stories I made up QQ. I just had to doodle Luze here maybe writing the stories I typed in his page. I honestly never thought that I would have anyone reading my stories I write in Non-Canonical ways from Uraboku. They were just for fun and I always thought they were strange.  Ever since I saw Luze for the first time, I immediately thought of stories with him along with his brother, Luka. 

I told myself that I wanted to create a page especially for him to show the aesthetics for him and my art I do for him. But not only that, to let my stories out. I haven’t written in such a long time ever since 2014 when I wrote stories from Vindictus/Mabinogi Heroes. And ever since I first discovered about Luze, I started to be inspired to write again. 

I want to thank him for that, for making me motivated with my creativity once again. And thank you for the RPers I have seen from Final Fantasy XIV and other fandoms who made me thought long and hard to make a character page for Luze.  And so I repeat myself, thank you all for dropping by and looking at Luze’s page which I just made this month of April. You all too made me more motivated to write again from the likes whether you guys read my stories or not and draw more arts of this sass boy.

I really appreciate you all and I can’t really express more than I have to. You guys are the best! And remember, you are all loved!

- Gale Spider