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ollypopwrites · 9 months ago

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From Depths Unknown; Part 1

Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.

Rating: M

Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Language, Canon-typical violence, drinking, sexual content (very brief, very not detailed BUT slight dom/sub dynamics), slow burn, slightly enemies to lovers but not quite, background Bloodweave, the use of ‘idiot’ as a term of endearment.

Series Summary:

The entire first half of Rolan’s life was spent feeling helpless and angry. Even after escaping his childhood home, Elturel and then the Grove, fate seems to be intent on reminding him of how small he really is.

Tav is the gallant hero, always swooping in to save him and it is infuriating. To add insult to injury, despite himself, he actually likes her.

Notes: hooooo boy. This got crazy. It was supposed to be vignettes leading to some smut and now we have a whole multi-part fic exploring both Rolan’s character as an outsider of the tadpole crew but still closely acquainted and the weight of responsibility on Tav during the entire narrative of the game. Smut will happen, promise, but first — some light whump and heavy yearning.

Read below or on Ao3

“Did you lose something, darling?”

Tav had upended her pack, a huge pile of random junk, valuable magic artifacts, potions and rations by the fire. She was

Frantically digging through it, sorting through jewelry and shoving it aside.

“You haven’t seen my necklace laying around have you? The one with the pearl pendant?”

“I haven’t stolen it if that’s what you’re really asking,” he replied.

“Sounds like something someone would say if they did steal it.”

“Ha-Ha,” Astarion snarked. “Last I saw it was when I fed from you last night,” he sighed, “such a lovely chain wrapped around an even lovelier neck.”

“It was a gift from… someone special. I can’t find it.”

“When did you last remember having it?”

“I wear it everyday,” she groaned frustratedly. “I noticed it was gone when I got dressed after my bath upstairs.”

“And before that?”

“We fought off that horde by the lake,” Tav frowned and then gasped. “Shit. It must have broken during the fight.”

In her mind’s eye she could imagine when it may have happened. She had been positioned directly in front of the portal in which Halsin had gone into the Shadowfell. Gale and her kept directly in front of it to hold off stragglers, while Karlach and Shadowheart flanked in front of them. A flock of undead Ravens had descended upon her and Gale, clawing a scratching and she had lost her balance careening into the water. Some undead Harper’s had made an effort to keep her from climbing back up on the stone outcrop.

She had made it back to her position, but only barely. Tav still felt herself tense and worn down after what was the longest five minutes of her life. The dead just kept rising, new apparitions of horror springing up when they finally had the upper hand.

“I’ll be back.”

Tav stood and left the camp they had set up near the docks below the Last Light Inn. Her feet took her to the same edge of the lake where even now there were remnants of their battle littering the ground. She checked up on the stone outcrop where the portal had been, dancing lights guiding her eyes as she scanned for a glint of metal from the lights.

Nothing. She danced the lights closer to the water but it was impossible to see through. Tav dug for the last dredges of her magic to cast detect magic, she felt something below. Not too far but hard to pinpoint exactly where with her magic so spent.

Tav examined the water. It was just as dark as the rest of this place, and who knew what lingered below its surface. With a sigh, she took off her shoes and stripped down to her small clothes. She dipped her foot in, the water was as cold as it was when she was pulled in earlier that day.

Then she leapt in. Darkness surrounded her, the muffle of the water creating a sense of pure nothingness around her. In a way, it was peaceful, and quiet, but she had to find her way to the bottom and find that necklace. It was not too deep, but she had to fully submerge herself to reach the floor and when she did she tried not to think about what she was grabbing as she blindly felt around.

With only the vague sense of detect magic to guide her, she grabbed blindly. She felt the metal of armor, maybe a rock or a long rusted weapon, but nothing that felt like a thin necklace chain. She had to thrust herself up to the surface to gasp a breath of air.

Just as she went to dive under again she heard a shout, “what the bloody hells are you doing?”

Her head whipped around to the stone she had jumped from. Tall and lithe, standing rigidly straight with fists balled at his side and eyes glowing slightly in the dark. It was Rolan.

“Are you insane?”

“I lost something!” She said back. “Just a minute!”

His call of, “wait!” Was cut off as she dunked under again. Her hands frantically searching, focusing on the detect magic spell that would fizzle out any moment now. She let it lead her, let it show her the pulsing of the magic it was picking up from the bottom of the lake. There was no way of knowing if it was her pearl, but she had to try.

Her hands dug into the muck of the bottom of the lake, pulling some up and bringing it back to the surface. She could barely see, but there in her hand the pearl sat amongst rot and mud. She choked on a gasp, her eyes stinging either from tears or the grime that no doubt was in the water. The chain was long gone, but the pendant was there.

The gold of the delicate clawed setting that held the Pearl of Power was dirty and dented, but the pearl itself seemed to be in good shape.

“I found it!” She called.

“For the love of — get out of the water!” Rolan yelled.

Carefully she tread towards the stone again, reaching it and dropping the pendant onto the stone so she could pull herself out. Just as she lifted herself up, something caught on her foot, and then tugged. She hit her chin on the stone, teeth clacking together and then she slipped into the water again, skin scraping against rock and her vision going dark as the depths.

Rolan’s hand delved deep into the water, clutching at whatever piece of Tav he could get a grasp of and pulled. Her hand emerged, his hand tightly around her wrist as he grunted with the struggle to lift her above the water's edge. When her face emerged she gasped for breath.

“Something’s pulling me,” she yelled.

Rolan had little time to think, and just kept pulling as Tav’s free hand grasped at the rock and started to get herself onto it. As she did, the rest of her torso was revealed, then legs where he saw a long dead, gnarled and rotten hand grasping her calf. He let go of her with one hand to cast magic missile, the angry red jets of magic landing each hit until the hand let go of her.

Tav crawled onto the rock, coughing up water, and catching her breath. She stayed on hands and knees, her hand coming out to grab the trinket she had dived in for.

Rolan turned on her in a rage. “What in the hells is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” she breathed, “thanks to you. Appreciate it.”

“Weren’t you telling me not to go wandering off into the curse just yesterday?” He seethed.

“I told you not to go alone,” she clarified, “but I guess your point still stands.”

“Thank you,” he said sarcastically. “I watched you and your friends hold off an undead army just here earlier, another truly noble venture I’m sure — “

“We were trying to help lift the curse—“ she stood.

But Rolan’s ire was truly raised and he trampled over her words without acknowledging them. “You cannot truly be this stupid,” he spat, “you know what lurks in this land, what could possibly be so important you need to jump into the accursed lake?” Despite himself he found himself saying, “another hero’s errand, no doubt, the long lost heirloom of a poor, pathetic creature that will simper and whine your praises.”

Tav looked like she might hit him. Instead she grabbed her discarded clothes and started to walk away.

“You’re welcome,” he called after her.

“I already said thank you,” she turned to snarl at him, a spark of lightning curling off of her in her anger. “Would you like me to stay so you can yell at me more or can I go? Will that make you feel better? Will it bring Cal and Lia back?”

Rolan was charging forward before he could stop himself. “They are only gone because you can’t keep your nose out of other people’s business.”

Tav’s angry expression faltered, something he couldn’t quite parse flashed over her face. “Rolan -“ she started and then sighed, shoulders slinking into a hunch.

For the first time he noticed that she looked tired. The kind of tiredness that not even a good night's rest would fix. Bone -deep, mental and physical exhaustion written in the bags under her eyes, the downturn of her mouth. His stomach dropped, his jaw clenched and a new anger flared in him.

Prick, idiot bastard is what you are, Rolan, the thoughts set off in his mind, taking the flashing of rage with them. Can’t save the only family you have, and you kick the one person who can while they’re down. Useless. Idiot.

“Tav? Darling, are you alright?”

Both of them turned to find Astarion, accompanied by Gale who had a suspecting frown on his face. “By the stars, Tav, you’re soaked,” the other wizard said, coming forward, removing the cloaked cape he had and wrapping it around her shoulders.

“And quite underdressed,” Astarion quirked an eyebrow, “not taking advantage were you, little wizard?”

Rolan had hardly thought about her state of undress. Had purely been driven by whatever it was that made him run up when he saw her dunking into the lake. The worst case scenario had crossed his mind, she had fallen to the curse and it was pulling her under. It very nearly did.

Now he was very aware of it. Embarrassment and pure concentration to not look at her legs which were still bare kept him from saying anything in response.

“Rolan helped me, I fell into the lake.”

“You jumped into it,” he found himself saying.

“Why on earth would you do that?” Gale scolded.

“My pearl!” She held it up. “Chain must have broken earlier.”

Gale hummed thoughtfully, eyes slinking towards Rolan, then to Tav. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I believe another bath is in order.”

“Probably best,” Tav sighed, pulling some grime out of her hair. “Goodnight, Rolan.”

Rolan said nothing in return as Gale walked with her back to the shore, his eyes flicked up to the elf waiting for them. Astarion and him never spoke much, he was around and had a smart remark to provide at someone’s expense but they had rarely ever spoken.

There was something unsettling about the elf as he peered at Rolan while he waited for his companions to make their way. A stillness of his body that was unnatural, a look in his eyes that was half warning and half challenge. A predator, guarding its territory that almost immediately softened once Tav and Gale were next to him and they began their walk back to the inn.

Rolan rubbed his hands over his face, and made his way back to the inn. He needed a drink.

Tav had smiled sheepishly at Jaheira after requesting another tub of water. Gale and Astarion had slipped away after whisking her away from Rolan, and now that she was alone she found herself truly feeling exhausted. She bathed and went back to camp, found a chain from the endless piles of jewelry she had hoarded to sell for camp funds and slipped her pearl pendant back on.

The weight of it on her chest was comfortable, a sense of normalcy in a place that was far beyond her everyday life.

Tav played with the pendant as she laid in her bedroll, despite the tiredness her mind was reeling.

Rolan had been so angry with her. When they had rid the path of the goblins and held their little party she had comforted herself in knowing that the two of them parted on friendly terms. Her encouragement of his siblings to stay and help their kin had paid off, and she had spent a good chunk of the night talking with them.

The last time she saw him he was full of laughter, showing off his prowess which landed him a position as an apprentice with a well-renowned wizard.

Her mind played over their interactions. His drunken fury after Cal and Lia were taken, his resigned anger after they saved him from the cursed wraiths near moonrise - he was always so angry with her.

Perhaps he had a right to be. They had rid the path of the goblin threat and sent them straight into a horror beyond imagining. All her talk of doing the right thing, helping who you could and ‘playing hero’ as he put it was for nothing.

Laying in the dark with her eyes wide open became too much and she got up from the bedroll. She could grab some wine from their wares and head inside, not wanting to take anymore of the Last Light’s limited supplies.

“And where are you off to?” Shadowheart asked. They technically did not need a watch shift due to the Harper’s having their own but it was routine now.

“Need a drink,” Tav said. “I’ll be back.”

“No more dips in the cursed lake, if you please,” Shadowheart called after her.

Tav waved her off and headed inside. The Last Light was always somewhat active. Everyone’s sense of night and day was off kilter, at least one shift of Harper’s and the Fists were milling about at any given time. Healers were needed at all hours for returning scouting parties, and the bar with its meager offerings always had someone behind it.

She sat close enough to keep an eye on the children behind the bar, and look out at the space. There was still damage from the attempted kidnapping of Isobel, winged horror guts and blood stained the walls. Tav uncorked the wine in her hand and took a swig.

“You’re cut off for the night!” Umi said, head barely coming above the line of the bar with his hand pointing upward.

“I’ve had one glass, you little brat!”

Tav’s eyes slid towards the tiefling at the bar, robes still a little wet from fishing her out of the lake, and wearing his typical grumpy frown. At least he did not seem belligerent and the irritation in his voice held no bite for the child. Not like it had for her earlier.

“Give him a glass of mine,” Tav held out her own bottle. “He earned it.”

Rolan’s head snapped up and she immediately regretted speaking. It was meant to be a last ditch effort for a truce, but the way his face curled into snarl made her want to shrivel up and die.

“I don’t need any more charity from you,” he snapped.

Her heart dropped, her face got hot and she took a deep breath. Turning on her barstool, she leaned her back against the bar. She never could win with him. She wanted to apologize, she had been out of line by bringing up his siblings before. He had started it, but she was not too proud to own up to her own part in it.

It was clear he wanted nothing to do with her, so she turned her back to save him having to even look at her. She took a long swig of the wine, it was cheap and bitter, but it was what they had.

The scrape of wood made her look over. Rolan had sat in a stool on her side of the bar, not right next to her, an empty seat between them. He faced the bar, not looking at her as he held a tin cup out towards her. Tav leaned over to share some of her wine.

He was quiet, and that was better than yelling. And watching the activity in the inn was better than staring up from her bedroll all night. It would have to do.

“No chaperones with you this time?”

“They went off to… “ Tav trailed off, she didn’t know what Gale and Astarion were doing. Just that they slipped away as they had been doing more often lately. “Well, it’s not our business what they went off to do.”

Another stretch of silence. Tav played with her necklace in between sips from the bottle. They had to make their way to moonrise again tomorrow, finally entering the belly of the beast to figure out if they could free any prisoners and find a heading towards finishing all of this.

“What’s so special about it?”

“Hm?” She turned to Rolan.

His eyes flicked up from where he was watching her toy with her necklace. “The pearl.”

“Oh,” she said dumbly. “It’s a pearl of power.” She looked down at it, “an heirloom. Passed down from my father.” Her thoughts trailed off again, “when I thought I’d lost it…” she shook her head.

There was no world in which she imagined he wanted to know about her or her family. This was a truce, and he was being more gracious than she expected. She thought she may as well keep it as neutral as possible to prevent an argument.

Rolan was quiet again. For a long time neither of them spoke, at one point she heard the clack of tin on the wood and found he had put his cup out again. She poured him some more wine, and she felt at least relieved he was not unwilling to sit with her. Albeit quietly and only with her offering him wine, but it was something.

They sat quietly until the bottle was done. Tav felt her eyelids getting heavier and heavier. She thought she may finally be able to sleep if she laid down. Her heart still felt full of the weight of guilt, her body weak as if it knew only more horror awaited her the next day. But she didn’t get to rest more than one night, the chain of events of her life recently had made that very clear.

There was a lot she had to make up for, and a storm to weather before she could find harbor.

“If Cal and Lia are alive in Moonrise, I’ll bring them back,” she said, not having the courage to look at him. “I promise.”

She felt him staring at her but she still couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye. Guilt weighed too heavily on her, the weight of the journey ahead looming over her in the face of yet another promise she was not sure she could keep.

Bidding him goodnight, which was met by silence, she walked away from the bar.

Tav had left with a small group to head to Moonrise, leaving behind the Archdruid who was dead set upon helping out around the inn. This encouraged others to pitch in, Dammon was lending strength to fixing up the broken railings and doors at the inn. Rolan made himself useful, he had magic to spare and nothing else to do.

He employed two mage hands to help lift a beam of wood to repair one of the holes that had been created by winged horrors dropping through during the attack. Isobel chanted out on the balcony, while he and Guex worked. Tav had been in the room when it happened, he thought to himself, always in the right place at the right time.

Except by the lake. Even now he had no idea what possessed her to strip out of armor to get inside waters full of bodies in a place which undead walked so freely. In his mind’s eye he could see her bare legs, and though at the time he had not thought about her state of undress now he found himself trying to piece together any snippets in his subconscious of what the rest of her had looked like.

“Rolan,” Guex called. “Bit higher, mate.”

“Sorry.” He said, the mage hands lifting the wood up.

His mind kept drifting to her. The way she played with the pearl she had so desperately been trying to find. Her laughter as it carried over the sounds of the crowd from her camp. More annoyingly the glimpse of her legs he had gotten just a couple nights ago. She was pretty, objectively, he had noticed immediately, but he wasn’t a naive boy so easily distracted by a pretty face.

The storm behind her eyes as she had gone toe to toe with him at the lake seemed to haunt him. what she said had hurt, yes, but he was a little distracted by the vision of her soaking wet and looking at him with so much feeling.

“Rolan, if you need a break just say so,” Guex said.

“No,” he growled, shaking his head, “no, I’m fine.”

He was a wizard. He could control his own mind. He focused on the weave, the sensation of it taking shape into the mage hands before him. Rolan made it a point to close the door on any further thought of her while he went about his business.

Until the second day with no word from any of the party that had ventured into Moonrise. He had even gone as far to venture into their camp, where the remaining four of her companions were sitting around the fire.

“Rolan,” Wyll greeted him warmly. “How are you?”

The Blade of the Frontier was an invaluable asset during their time on the road into the grove. Rolan liked him, although he preferred him when he wasn’t doing his folk hero act.

“I’d rather not say,” he said. “I didn’t come here to dampen your mood.”

“Have the Harpers seen any sign of our companions returning?” Halsin asked.

“Not yet,” he said. “That’s why I’m here. Your tadpoles, they can transmit to each other can’t they?”

“There’s quite a distance between here and Moonrise,” the half-elf Shadowheart said. “I’m not sure our tadpoles can connect to each other so far.”

“Unlikely,” the Githyanki grumbled. “Attempting to do so is an unnecessary risk.”

“How?” Rolan asked.

“The ghaik tadpole could reach anyone, and give away our location.” She explained, haughty as if he was an imbecile for not realizing it.

“If anyone can get your siblings out of Moonrise, it’s Tav,” Wyll said, making eye contact with him.

“If they’re even alive.”

“Take your self-pity elsewhere,” Lae’zel replied. “You chose to save the offspring.”

“Should I have let them get taken?”

“No.”

A strange pause happened, Lae’zel expressionlessly staring directly at him .

“I think,” Shadowheart said, “what Lae’zel means is you made the right choice. Your brother and sister would have done the same.”

The only confirmation was a single nod from Lae’zel. “Your offspring are weak. Untrained. In order to maintain the continuation of your species you must protect them.”

“That’s her version of a compliment,” Wyll clapped him on the shoulder.

“Chk.”

Shadowheart laughed softly, and Wyll stifled a smile. “Join us,” he offered, “we have plenty of room by the fire.”

On the third day, Rolan was at the bar. Not drinking, well, not drinking as much. He liked to sit around with Umi and Ide, it felt sometimes like watching them play a game of pretend. Acting like grown up barkeeps, as if they’d been running the Last Light for more years than they’d even been alive. Everyone was willing to play along, and Rolan found himself playing the part of the grumpy regular.

“Hey arsehole!”

Rolan’s hackles went up at the sound of Lia’s taunt. Prepared to be annoyed at his sister — until he realized that it was Lia. A rush of relief spread through him so thoroughly that it made him shudder as he looked over.

“Oh, thank the gods.”

Lia was beaming, and behind her Cal had a goofy grin. They were there, in front of him. Alive and whole as far as he could tell, no trick of the curse making them strange and hollow. Just as quickly as relief came over him, anger flared. Nights and nights of constant worry not even dulled by multiple bottles of wine.

“Is that all you have to say, to me? Did you enjoy yourselves while I battled that wretched darkness? What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry, we got captured by murderous lunatics.” Lia was just as ready to fight.

“I thought you were dead, you ass,” Rolan seethed. “Both of you!”

“We’re all safe, Rolan,” Cal finally said, trying to keep the peace as always. “That’s what matters.”

“Good thing you’re back!” Ide shouted from behind the bar. “He’s been drinking about it for a week straight!”

“I was just…”

Worried sick, grappling with the thought that I nearly lost the only family I had, rendered helpless and faced with my own failings.

“Overwhelmed.” He settled on. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry,” Lia folded first. “We should have been here.”

And how would they have done that? It wasn’t their fault they were captured.

“No - no,” Rolan winced. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have shouted. I’m sorry.”

Lia came up to hug him then. They were never very affectionate physically. Even when he had moved into their home he had shared a bed with Cal, Lia always teased them for the way they had to struggle for space as Cal grew stocky and Rolan grew ever more lanky.

But this was a comfort, to hold his little sister in his arms. Safe, and whole. Not even his pride could overpower the gratitude he felt to have them back, and as Cal’s bulky arms wrapped around them both in a steel tight hug he had to laugh.

“We thought the curse got you,” Cal said. “When Tav told us you were alive —“ his brother’s voice cracked and the rest of the sentence died.

Tav. He opened his eyes, half expecting to find her and her crew watching on as she seemed to be in every major upheaval of his life lately. But the only new faces were some deep gnomes, and a few other tieflings from their caravan from Elturel.

“Where is she?”

“Who?” Lia asked, rubbing Cal’s back as he tried to maintain his composure.

“Tav.”

“They needed to save face in Moonrise. Her and her friends had a big fight with the warden as a distraction while we got out.” Lia replied. “Apparently they’re posing as cultists.” His sister’s eyes narrowed, “why?”

“I — “ he started. “I owe her an apology. And thanks.” He cleared his throat, “but that can wait. I have a room upstairs and there’s baths, you two reek.”

“You’re such an arsehole.” Lia grinned.

“I’m starved,” Cal groaned, the only evidence that he was crying were some trails in the muck that coated his face. “They have food here?”

“We do!” Umi called. “But it'll cost you!”

The light of the inn was in sight. It had been a rough couple of days, but they had found their next heading. Tav was ready to debrief Jaheira, take a bath and sleep.

“The inn will be bursting now,” Gale said, “with the deep gnomes and the tieflings.”

“I hope they all made it okay,” Karlach said. “They’ve been through enough.”

“More than enough,” Tav agreed. “We will check in on them. Add that to the list.”

“Noted,” Gale tapped his temple.

As they passed through the barrier of light around the inn a weight lifted off of them. Traveling through the cursed lands was always exhausting, it was a suffocating darkness that covered the land and something always felt like it was lurking nearby.

After discussing with Jaheira and the rest of the camp, Tav took some time to check in with the rescued deep gnomes and tieflings. Barcus had bounded up to her before she could even take a mental count of who was present, dragging her over to Wulbren Bongle.

The leader of the Ironhands brushed both her and Barcus off, as if the former hadn’t just broken him out of a prison and the latter hadn’t begged so earnestly for her to do so. If she was not so tired she may have made a comment about it, but Barcus looked mortified and Tav didn’t have the energy.

As she moved on, she nodded to Lakrissa who was glued to Alfira’s side at the bar. There was no sign of Bex and Dannis, but she could only imagine their reunion was something they wanted to have in private. She saw the back of Cal’s head at the bar, heard Lia’s loud laugh and approached to find Rolan with them, leaning over the bar.

The two she had saved seemed better than she had found them. Clean, smiling and animated. Rolan’s shoulders were still an even line, but they seemed to have dropped a few inches, no longer settled up to his ears in tension.

“It’s you!” Lia grinned.

“I’m glad you lot made it back alright,” Tav smiled. “He’s been a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah,” Cal grinned. “But he’s our pain in the ass. Thanks for dealing with him while we were gone, we’ve got it from here.”

Tav just nodded. Rolan was staring at her, but she could not decipher his look. She awkwardly shifted and then said, “well, I was just checking in. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Wait,” Cal turned. “Thank you - for saving me. And the two idiots. I never thought I’d see them again.”

“It was nothing,” she shrugged.

“That black eye you're sporting says otherwise,” Lia said seriously. “I saw those hits you took. It wasn’t ‘nothing’. I’m not the best at showing it, but I love Rolan and Cal to death. They’re family - thanks for bringing us back together.”

Tav felt suddenly uncomfortable with the praise. Rolan had suggested before he thought she got off on playing the hero. His siblings' thanks felt like it would only prove his point further.

She just smiled, “I’m just glad you three are together again.” Clearing her throat, “I ought to check on my camp.”

Rolan stood suddenly as she turned, “Tav.” She waited, half expecting another comment about her heroics. “I’ve lashed out at you. Drunkenly and otherwise, and you helped anyway. You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry. And thank you.”

With a nod she took off for a bath. She checked in on camp, hearing any intel and updates she needed from those left behind. Everyone quickly began discussing strategies and next steps, they needed to find their way to this Balthazar and find Ketheric Thorm’s weakness. There was also the matter of finding Art Cullagh’s lute, seeing if they could find any hint that Arabella’s parents were alive and figure out how to finally put this curse to rest.

Even after a victory there was still so much left to do.

She slipped away to sit on the outcrop of stone by the lake again. Everyone at camp meant the world to her, but every once in a while she needed her space. It was dark and creepy, but if she closed her eyes she could hone in on the lap of the water against the rock. A soothing sound.

“Not thinking of taking a swim, are you?”

Tav jumped, and turned. Rolan stood not far off, a bottle in his hands and to her surprise a small smile on his face.

“Gods, you scared me,” she placed a hand over her heart. “I wasn’t expecting —“ she cut herself off. She wasn’t expecting anyone, let alone him and smiling no less.

“I’ve got a bottle of Arabellan dry, if you’re up for it.” He walked up and sat down next to her, showing her the bottle.

Tav considered him for a moment. “Is it poisoned?”

“Very funny.” He said sarcastically. “I would not waste poison in a wine such as this.”

“And where did you find it?” She looked at the bottle.

“I stole it from the cellar, the last bottle,” he said, popping the cork. “I brought cups, but I know pulling straight from the bottle is more your style.”

“I’ll try a cup,” she hummed.

He poured them each a cup, and held his up to clink against hers before the first sip. Rolan hummed in pleasure. “Gods, that’s so good.”

“It is,” Tav agreed. The flavor bloomed on her tongue, smooth and without the bite of the cheap stuff she had been drinking of late. “What’s the occasion?”

“An apology. A proper one,” He muttered. “You went out of your way to help us, it’s only right you get something in return.”

“You don’t have to —“

“You were right,” he said before she could finish. “I wasn’t really angry with you. I was angry with myself. Angry at the gods awful hands we’ve been dealt on this journey.”

“It’s alright if you were a little angry with me,” she admitted sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have used Cal and Lia against you.”

“That was rather wretched of you.”

“It was,” she agreed. “But I think I more than made up for it.” She was teasing, testing the waters in this new peace they had found.

“I thanked you once already,” he said haughty tone overdone and just as playful, “don’t be greedy.”

Something about the tone, about the smile on his face and the words themselves spurred her imagination into overdrive. Him above her, wrenching an orgasm from her only for her to ask for more. Don’t be greedy, she imagined him saying it again, condescending and admonishing. A truly mortifying high pitched giggle escaped her. She took a gulp of wine, her body hot and shocked at the instantaneous reaction.

She was very glad he did not have a tadpole.

A silence stretched between them that made her itch, he did not seem to mind but she felt like she would start to fidget if she didn’t say something. Luckily, he spoke while she floundered for something to say.

“I never asked, are you alright?”

She did have a black eye and possibly a concussion. She had left camp before Shadowheart could offer some healing. “Bumps and bruises,” she said casually. “Occupational hazards, nothing to worry about.”

“Hm,” he huffed. “That’s what you get for being a meddlesome hero. But I shan’t say more, you’ve done too much for me lately.”

“Karlach, Astarion and Gale were there too, you know,” she said.

“Yes, well, I won’t be sharing my favorite wine with them,” he said stiffly.

“Oh, and what makes me so special?”

He took a drink of wine, looking into his cup. “You are — “ he started, “particularly infuriating.”

“I’m special because I’m infuriating?”

He grimaced. “Yes.”

“You don’t make a bit of sense,” Tav laughed in disbelief.

“I make perfect sense,” he said haughtily. “You’re the one jumping into cursed lakes. Or risking your life for someone who has never been particularly nice to you.” He drank the last of his cup, pouring another as he added, “top up?”

She offered her cup for him to fill. “I told you why I jumped in the lake. A precious family heirloom was at the bottom.”

“And the gallant rescuing?”

Tav frowned, taking a drink. “I don’t know. I just… if I can help, I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”

Rolan didn’t seem to find that worth responding to. The silence stretched on again. He cleared his throat and held out his hand. For a moment she thought he was asking her to hold it, and she felt a strange tingle throughout her body. On his pointer finger was a ring, old and a bit scratched up, but with some kind of inscription in a language she couldn’t read on the flat surface.

“This was Cal and Lia’s grandfather’s ring.” He said looking at it. “Their mother gave it to me when I came to stay with them for good. It’s not enchanted, nor is it worth much but it — it’s proof. We’re a family, bound by something stronger than blood.”

That sunk in slowly for Tav as she pieced it together. She had questions: if Cal and Lia were not his biological siblings what happened to his parents? How long ago had he been one of their own? These felt invasive, and they had been getting along so she chose not to voice them; happy to have been trusted with a small tidbit of his past.

Delicately her fingers came out to run over the inscription. As she did her fingers brushed over his, and perhaps it was the wine, but she grabbed his hand to bring it closer to her face. The writing was maybe infernal, with some sort of emblem.

“What does it say?”

Rolan didn’t respond.

Tav looked at him, finding him very intensely focused on her. She dropped his hand, “sorry, I shouldn’t —“

“It’s fine,” he replied tersely.

An awkward silence filled the gap and she kicked herself internally.

Rolan cleared his throat. “It’s his title and rank, he was a Hellrider.” He pointed it out on the ring and she ran her eyes over it. “The Hellriders protected their lodges with wards, and could only be accessed with ward tokens. This was his.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Elturel?”

“Yes.”

“We had nothing there, even before it fell,” he said.

Tav nodded her head. “So, Baldur’s Gate was always in the plan?”

“An apprenticeship, regardless of where it was, that’s what I was after.”

“Gale says Lorroakan is a well-renowned wizard,” she left out the part where her friend called him a ‘cad.’ They were talking and getting along and she didn’t want to ruin it. “You must be excited.”

“When I get to the gates I'll be excited,” he sighed. “The journey so far has been one disaster after another.”

“We’ll get you there, Rolan.”

He looked at her for a long while. “Another promise, little hero?”

“I know how much you love when I’m gallant,” she smiled.

“That’s the problem with you,” he pointed at her with a smile playing on his lips. “I believe you. I believe you will get me there.”

Tav wasn’t sure what to say. Her face warm and her smile wide as she felt the need to look away from him. She drank the rest of her wine.

“So,” he said, “what’s the promise this time, Tav?”

“Rolan,” she began, “I promise that when we get to Baldur’s Gate, I’ll buy you a new bottle of Arabellan Dry. since you so generously shared yours with me even though I saved your ass from the Shadow Curse. It was rude of me to come to your rescue, and you’re being just so gracious about it.”

He laughed a rich deep sound that made her heart flutter, and the rest of the night her only goal was to get him to laugh again.

Part 2 will be out very soon! Thank you for reading 💜

#rolan fanfic #rolan x tav #rolan x oc #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #Olly writes

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thlayli-ra · 3 months ago

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Ficlet Request - Treat - Being playfully clingy in the mornings when one has an off day and the other has to rush to work - PunkIntyre + Seth Rollins (idk if they have a poly ship name yet?)

I’m sure plenty of people will request whump fics and I will enjoy every bit of it as it comes, but for now, I just want something cute and domestic 🥰😂

Something cute and domestic coming right up! 🥰

Treat - 'Being Playfully Clingy'

Characters - Seth Rollins, Drew McIntyre, CM Punk

Rating - Teen and up

Warnings - None apply, domestic fluff

Drew was a hugger. And that was fine! Lovely actually. Especially on those lazy Sunday morning where all three of them would be tucked up in bed with nowhere to go and nothing to do, and Drew (in the middle where he liked to be) would wrap both of his titanic arms around his boyfriends and snuggle them in close. The soft, comforting body heat would lull them all back into a pleasant doze and they would stay that way for hours and hours.

That was the beauty of Drew, really - there was plenty of him to go around.

However, when there was only the two of them at home, Drew could be, well, how to put it delicately, he was... clingy as hell! Seth knew this well, considering he'd been going out with Drew the longest, and he also knew that the Scot was really missing his newer boyfriend. The pout he wore when they went their separate ways after Raw was devastating.

'I'm sorry, Big Guy,' Punk lamented, trying to breath as the huge Scot wrapped his arms tightly around his chest and refused to let go. 'I'm staying at the hotel tonight and driving onto the next town for NXT, remember? Got my special guest referee duties to do.'

'He'll be fine,' Seth said with a warm roll of his eyes, finally prising Drew's massive hands off of Punk. 'You have a safe journey tomorrow and we'll see you Thursday.'

'Bright and early, I promise,' Punk said, accepting a kiss from his sharply dressed boyfriend. 'Oh, and thanks for lending me your booty shorts.'

'Yeah, well, somebody's gotta wear them,' Seth joked with a shrug, 'since they arrived too late for the you two's match at Summerslam.'

'Well, thanks to you, I now know what not to do when officiating,' Punk gave a cheeky grin, opening the door to his rental. 'Love you.'

'Love ya, hon,' Seth returned.

'Love you, Punky,' Drew chimed in, watching crestfallen as the car drove away into the night.

Ever since then, Drew had followed Seth around like a overly affectionate cat, no, not so much a cat, more like, a full grown adult male Siberian tiger, wrapping his giant paws around Seth and gently digging its claws in, refusing to let go.

And that was fine! When they were both off with nothing to do. But today, Seth was scheduled for some media work, the first of which started in two hours and he was still stuck fast in bed with Drew's anaconda arms and legs coiled around him. He'd been awake for a while now, ever since his alarm had sounded at seven, but Drew (still loitering in the middle of the bed, even with Punk gone and all that extra space available) had whimpered 'no, no', rolled over and grabbed him.

Seth had allowed it. He knew this would be a tough morning for Drew and he fully expected him to be even clingier than usual so they lay for another half hour, spooning, Seth the tiny demitasse spoon compared to Drew and his extra large serving ladle. But time was now ticking on and Seth needed to get showered and smartly dressed and be out that door on time.

Peeking over his shoulder he found Drew's eyes shut, a serene look on his face as he dozed peacefully. Seth carefully slipped his hands under Drew's and gently opened them up in order to free himself when they abruptly clamped down again, gripping tighter.

'Nooo,' Drew grumbled into his shoulder blades, rubbing his face against Seth's bare back.

'I know but I got to, sweetie,' Seth said. 'I've got work to do today.'

'No!' Drew huffed like a toddler. 'Stay.'

'Believe me I would love to but Hunter would have my head on a platter if I missed these appearances.' An idea popped into Seth's head. 'You wanna come shower with me?'

Drew practically leapt out of bed with excitement.

So they showered together. And that was fine! They'd just had a new, larger unit installed so that the three of them could fit in together, which, it turned out was for the best, otherwise Punk would have hogged it all the goddamn time. Steaming hot showers, strong coffee and baked goods - his three main vices, which was a damn sight better than drugs, cigarettes or alcohol. None of them drank, although Drew enjoyed an alcohol-free beer with Sheamus now and again, so at least they didn't any awkwardness with that to contend with.

Speaking of awkwardness, this current shower was proving to be difficult seeing as Seth had what he could only describe as the equivalent of a bear-skin rug draped over him like a cape. 'Hey Drew, you mind moving over so I can-' The bear gave a growl and buried its snout deeper into the nape of Seth's neck. 'Ok, fine. Not like anybody will be seeing my back anyways.'

He eventually managed to wriggle out from between the Scot's tentacles long enough to slap on a pair of dress pants and an immaculately pressed button-down shirt but as soon as he'd fastened one cuff, it was snared between two jaws of a colossal Venus flytrap. 'Uh, Drew,' Seth cocked a brow at the Scot who sat on the bed, decked in only a towel knotted around his waist, dripping wet with his long, drenched hair sticking to his neck and shoulders, 'I kinda need that hand.'

'Tough,' Drew smirked cheekily.

'Fine, I can do my other cuff when I get there,' Seth sighed, adding with a mutter under his breath, 'and my tie and put on my jacket and my shoes and...'

Normally Seth would make something filling like pancakes for breakfast, and while he stood at the stove, Drew would come up behind him, place his arms on Seth's waist and his chin on Seth's shoulder and comment on how delicious it smelled. And that was fine! But today, Seth had no time to make anything fancy for breakfast, so instead he opted for a quick bowl of bran cereal with a dollap of milk. But he couldn't bend down to open the dishwasher with Drew pressed right up against him, and had to shuffle to the pantry under both of their weight and Drew's huge arm around his shoulders made it impossible for him to reach up - 'Uh, Drew, honey, can you grab me the- oh, thanks! - and then he had to drag them both across to the fridge then he couldn't sit down because he was now two human beings, one of which was the size of a house, fused together so he had to stand at the counter instead and as soon as he dipped his spoon into the cereal and tried to lift it to his mouth, Drew grabbed hold of his wrist and peppered kisses down his arm and-

-and now, this was really getting into the 'not fine' territory!

'Shit, is that the time?' Seth gasped at the wall clock. He was officially running late, and Seth Rollins never ran late. So he hobbled off in a panic, Drew still clinging to his shoulders like a fucking silver back mountain gorilla who'd been raised by spider monkeys to try and find his shoes (which he had no hope of shining before he left) and his jacket (which he'd hoped to press but had to give up on that too) and his open cuff caught on a door handle and his ears heard a horrible shredding noise and now his entire sleeve was torn apart and flapping around and when he glanced back at the clock, another twenty fucking minutes had passed!

'DREW! GET OFF!'

'No!'

'I'm meant to be at the studio in ten minutes and at this rate I'll hit the rush hour traffic. I need to go now!'

'Noooo!'

'Punk will be back any minute, so please, you only have to be by yourself for an hour or so at the most-'

'Noooooo!'

'URGH!' Seth despaired, but another three minutes had passed and he had to get out that door. So he gritted his teeth and squared his shoulders and waded to the front door like a kid at the carnival dragging around the comically over-sized bear he'd won at the stalls. That was... made entirely out of glue and bricks for some reason! 'Drew,' he grunted with each hard-fought step. 'I really. Really. Have to. GO!'

Just before he reached the door, it opened. A man stepped in and immediately jumped with fright at the sight of a bedraggled Seth lugging a huge, hairy Scotsman in a towel on his back. 'Uh... hi,' he said.

'PUNKY!' Drew cheered, hopping off of Seth. 'You're home!'

'Perfect timing,' Seth said, flying past Punk out the door, but not before planting a cute kiss on his cheek and whispering in his ear. 'He's all yours now.'

On cue, Drew rushed towards Punk and lifted him right up off his feet in an excruciating bear hug. Out the corner of his eye, the tattooed man saw Seth make a run for the car, and sweet freedom. Joke was on him though. There was nowhere he'd rather be than right here.

'Hey Big Guy,' Punk smiled down at Drew, accepting every kiss and hug and nuzzle that came his way. 'I missed you too.'

#Thlayli's Trick or Treat #Thlayli-writes #seth rollins #drew mcintyre #cm punk #polycule #wrestling fanfiction #wwe fan fiction #domestic fluff #fic request

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iriel3000 · 1 year ago

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Hurry, She Needs You - part 4

Summary: Natasha becomes ill from what they think is food poisoning. Tony and Bruce try to care for her until Clint arrives home from a deep cover mission. Part 4 of 6

Whumptober Day 4: Shock

Natasha whump, light whump, emotional whump

Precisely five hours and 47 minutes after Clint’s phone call, he burst into Natasha’s medical suite. Still in full uniform, he ripped off his arm guards and rushed to her side.

Bruce and Tony politely stood off in the corner.

Barton whispered something in Russian, caressing Natasha's cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"Hawk?" She stirred.

"Tell me who did this."

She reached for him and wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing him to lift her into his arms.

“I’m here, I’m here. I got you.” Clint repeated over and over.

She curled into a tight ball against him.

“Get us out of here.” She whimpered.

“We’re safe. We’re at the Tower.”

“No, I saw James. They injected me...Tony.”

“Followed my orders, Widow. They gave you the antidote.”

“Don’t leave.” Natasha buried her face in his neck.

Barton swallowed hard.

“Not with a gun to my head. I will never leave you.”

He looked over at Tony.

“What time was the first shot?”

“Over three hours ago, she’s due for her second one soon.”

Barton exhaled, his troubled scowl lessening a fraction. Head Nurse Joyce Miller walked into the room.

“You're late.”

“Plane only goes Mach 2, I’ll have to make some modifications.”

“Well, hopefully now that you’re here, we can get her heart rate down. It’s been too high for my liking.”

Joyce adjusted the bed to a reclining position, moving about the room and talking to Barton as if one of Strike Team Delta on death's door was common.

He went to set Natasha down but she whimpered, clinging to him. Joyce clicked her tongue and Hawkeye turned sideways, keeping a tight hold of Nat. Nurse Miller removed his quiver, two pistols from his thigh holsters, and a large Bowie knife, allowing Clint to settle on the bed, adjusting Natasha across his chest and between his legs.

Joyce called attention to the monitor. Tony and Bruce watched Natasha's heart rate go down as she relaxed against Clint.

Without asking, Nurse Miller placed two fingers on Barton’s wrist and checked the clock on the wall.

“That always amazes me.” She shook her head. “I’ll be back shortly for the second round. See if you can get her to drink some water, please.”

She left the room. Tony and Bruce pulled their chairs closer. Bruce handed him a cup with a straw.

Before giving it to her, Clint made sure Natasha watched him take a drink.

No.” She whimpered, trying to knock the cup out of his hand.

“It’s safe, Nat.” He took another drink.

Trusting him like always, she sipped at the water, making a face.

“One more.”

“When can we go home?”

“Soon. I want you to get some sleep first.”

“No, they’ll take you.”

“Tony and Bruce won’t let them. They’ll protect me like they did you.” She glanced over at the two of them.

Tony hid a smirk. Barton and Romanov could give a shit about their own lives, but threaten the other...

“Nothing will happen, Nat.” Bruce promised.

She nodded. Clint hugged her close, nestling her into his side. She fought sleep for the longest time but eventually drifted off.

“I’ve never seen her cry like that before, Clint.” Tony kept his voice low.

“I know it was hard. We didn’t have your medical equipment last time. Thank you.”

“What happened in Thailand? How was she poisoned?” Bruce asked.

“Therillium is an assassin’s dream. It can be solid, liquid or gas. She was exposed when the Yazaki detonated a warehouse of hostages. I was too high in my perch to be affected.”

“Thankfully, or you both would be dead.”

Clint gave him a thoughtful look.

“How did you know what it was?” Tony wanted to know.

“It took two arrows to find out. Four more to get what she needed. She went into shock before the first shot.” He shuddered, wrapping his arms tighter around Natasha. “I didn’t think she was going to make it.”

“She did and she’s gonna get through this again.”

“Because of the two of you and Bucky.”

“Clint, it was Killian. We think the poison was meant for me. I’m sorry.”

Barton narrowed his eyes.

“Then I’ll rip both the bastard’s arms off, not just one.”

find the whole story below

Hurry, She Needs You

#whumptober 2023 #no. 2 #shock #the avengers #clintasha #fic #hawkeye #clint barton #black widow #natasha romanov #strike team delta #clint x natasha #hurry she needs you

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cabezadeperro · 10 months ago

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may i ask very normal questions 8 and 21? 😈🤡😈

hi tru!!!!! you may!!! how exciting!!!!!!!

8. Have you ever been commissioned by the devil to write, and what were you offered as payment?

my cwbb 2022 fic. i was promised "fun" and i only got burnt out.

21. If you were starving and had to feast on one of your fics to survive, which fic would it be?

i'd probably go with the fake dating au (a room with a view), and these are my very thought out reasons:

it's the longest fic i've ever written, and i'm pretty small and don't it much, so it should be enough.

on top of being very long i'd argue it's pretty balanced: it has plot, it has feeling; it has angst and whump and pining and a bit of humour, so it's a very complete meal.

and finally, it's shelf stable: it's a year old, but it's held up well, and we don't want to get food poisoning!

#ask game #very normal writer ask game #maríadont

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agentplutonium · 1 year ago

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another WIPW post

I can't remember the last time I did this and PK keeps enabling me SO gonna post this week. Not-so-unfortunately, I don't have anything fandom-related this week however I have been on an absolute bender for original universe content creation and i actually really want to share some of it. So, what I have for ya'll is a story based on how Vampires were created in my universe. It's a bit of a long one, so it will start under the cut. A little bit of information about it before then however: Despite being this world's gods, Terra and Caelus went a concerning amount of time before figuring out that Vampires had accidentally been created. Terra was briefly introduced in this post from a few WIPW ago, if you're interested. Anyway, onto the thing:

Terra never thought that this was possible. Her creatures were never supposed to hurt anybody, that wasn’t why she was making them. But, for some reason, the Strix didn’t conform to what she wanted. Caelus kept bringing up the problem, but Terra could only beg for more time with them.

“I can get through to them, I promise!” She would plead. “They’re just a bit stubborn, that’s all. That’s what happens when you give creatures free will.”

“I don’t know, Love,” Caelus would say, “I’m worried about the Humans. They already don’t like these creatures all that much. What if something were to happen?”

“I can do this,” Terra would insist. “On All Mother’s honor.”

The passionate fire behind Terra’s eyes was usually Caelus’ downfall, giving in to his Love once again.

For the longest time, Terra was making progress. It was slow, painfully slow, but it was progress none the less. Progress that was continuously cited every time she was challenged on the Strix’s existence. Terra was so certain that this would work out in the end, that it even started influencing Caelus’ thoughts on the matter too. They both thought that there was a breakthrough with the creatures just around the corner.

Oh, how they both could be so wrong.

They were quiet at first, the turnings. Nobody knew what was going on until there was an epidemic. Soon, there were Humans dying in every village, fear running rampant. Terra and Caelus were beside themselves trying to figure it out. It wasn’t until Terra witnessed what was going on did they figure it out. Terra was in the forest outside of Valhollow, looking for the Strix that resided there, wanting to warn them that they were to close. However, what she found instead was horrifying.

There was a teenaged girl walking along the path, presumably on her way back home. Terra stayed out of her way and hidden.

There was three whistle notes. A tune that Terra had never heard before. The girl, however, froze in her tracks. She spun around, eyes on the trees, chest rising and falling quickly. The notes again. A warning, it seemed. Or perhaps a call. Terra felt her heart sink in her chest. The girl bolted, tearing down the path as fast as she could. She didn’t get far before a swarm of the Strix flock descended on her. The girl screamed, a scream so visceral it made even Terra’s throat close up. The Strix squawked, their wings beating frantically all as they pecked and clawed at the girl, drawing more sounds of pain from her throat.

Terra cried out, stumbling forward. She slammed her hands into the ground, and it started bending and warping to her will, creating a dome around the girl to protect her. Terra, standing now, outstretched her hands and willed for the birds to disappear. It took more effort than she wanted, but one by one, the birds turned back into clay, before falling to the ground with a muffled whump. The creatures melted together upon impact, leaving a heap of crusty clay on top of Terra’s dome. Terra stumbled forward, hand reaching out and smoothing over her makeshift protection. The soil glowed softly around her fingers and at her touch, responding to her. The dome collapsed next, revealing the girl, sobbing and shivering, curled up on the ground.

Terra knelt down, reaching out and brushing the dirt off of the girl’s face. The girl groaned, but didn’t move away from the touch.

“It’s okay,” Terra whispered, “You’re okay.”

“Who are you?” a voice just beyond the girl said.

Terra’s head snapped up, eyes falling onto someone who she did not recognize. The stranger stared back, curiosity clear in their gaze.

“You’re not from here,” the person continued. “Who are you?”

“Terra,” Terra breathed finally. “What just happened?”

”You’re not human are you?” The person asked instead. “I’ve never seen power like that. Sure, there’s the Firmis, but I’ve never seen one of them exhibit that kind of power. What are you?”

“I can ask you the same thing,” Terra said, trying not to get annoyed at the diversion, “but, please, what just happened?”

“They found another victim,” the stranger said. There was a small puff of air, and suddenly they were on the other side of the girl. Terra blinked, not remembering seeing them move. “The creatures, I mean. I haven’t seen anything like them before I got attacked.”

“Strix,” Terra said, instinctively.

“Sorry?”

“They’re called Strix,” Terra repeated.

“Fascinating,” the person said. They turned their attention to the girl, hands brushing gently along her body. With each discovery of a new wound their expression grew more sour. They clicked their tongue when they came across a smear of gold liquid beside her lip. “That’s what I was afraid of,” they whispered.

“What?” Terra asked, wondering what this stranger meant.

“The blood got into her mouth. It means the change will happen soon.”

“What change?” Terra asked.

“She’ll turn like me,” the stranger gripped, looking back up at Terra, “a blood thirsty monster.”

At that moment, the moon shone down through the trees, illuminating the persons eyes, and Terra thought that she saw a hint of silver around their iris. Terra didn’t see it for long to continue wondering, though.

“Can you help? Reverse it maybe?”

“’Fraid not,” The stranger said. “We don’t die that easily. But, she’s lucky that I found her first. If she was alone, or, gods forbid, she was found by the others? This would be a whole different story.”

They slid their hands under the girl’s shoulders and knees, pulling another groan from her. It was ignored as the person, effortlessly it seemed, lifted her as they got to their feet. Terra followed suit, hands wringing in front of her.

“I’ll take care of her, don’t you worry,” the stranger said, giving Terra a small smile, “It was nice meeting you, Terra.” They turned to leave, but Terra stopped them.

“I didn’t catch your name,” She said. She felt like it was only fair.

“Dr. Farbridge,” The doctor said. They nodded to Terra, and within a blink, they were gone again.

Terra stood there for a moment, staring at the heaps of clay beneath her feet. The events of the night started to catch up, and Terra felt so many emotions coarse through her body. Anger, remorse, shame, grief. She didn’t know what to do with herself.

She had to tell Caelus.

#as always i am always open to questions and my ask box is open #not only because I love talking about my things but also because this is original content #and i understand there are things im purposefully not telling yall #it might get confusing is all im saying #anyways vamps are slowly becoming my favourite #like yeah vampires existed before #but they haven't existed in MY universe until like #idk a week ago?? smth like that #anyway that's all from me #plutonium_rambles #plutonium_WIPW #ocs #original content #oc #original character

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dangermousie · 1 year ago

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This is relevant to my interest but I am not sure any OTP in the world is worth that...

#cdrama #the longest promise #xiao zhan #whump

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set-phasers-to-whump · 1 year ago

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thank you for the tag!! i love love love things like this <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

262 (soon to be 263, and so on til the end of the month lol)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

404,314. not bad!!!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

atm, mostly tmfu (just recently posted my 50th fic without even realizing it oops) but also karppi, 911, and babylon berlin, with assorted others such as poi in there from time to time.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

at fault (lucifer) (this fic is my enemy...it's so close to not being the top in this category anymore yet it persists!), you're not losing me (911), a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day (911), safe (911), and i just thought it didn't rain in california (911). do we see a pattern...

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

yes, always!! it still blows my mind that people enjoy my writing enough to tell me about it, so obviously i'm going to respond! i adore getting comments and i appreciate every one i receive <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

maybe i don't wanna reach out in the dead of night and find no one to hold me ? it's a prodigal son fic with a not super hopeful ending, but idk for sure if this is the angstiest ending. i don't do a ton of angsty endings tbh

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

this one's a toss up since a ton of my fics are ships getting together which is uniformly happy endings, but the first one that i can think of is you are everything (didn't you know?) which is a buddie fic with no whump wow!! (hence why it probably comes to mind - i didn't put anyone thru the wringer first lmao)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i'm really lucky and haven't - perks of writing for (mostly) pretty small fandoms i think.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

nah, not for me.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i don't - i like to keep my characters in their usual settings, for the most part.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i think so? i've had people ask, but never got confirmation (they were going to post to other sites)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i haven't...i'm not sure if i could do it tbh

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

bro this is hard...i'm gonna say it's a toss-up of spirk or buddie - they've been with me the longest.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i feel like this is going to sound like a flex but i promise it isn't - i really don't have WIP's, at least not for very long. generally i either finish or abandon things with no desire to complete them lol

16. What are your writing strengths?

maybe action? i know i do a lot of fics with minimal to no dialogue, so i'm guessing i'm decent at conveying things with not much interpersonal talking.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

endings!! the bane of my existence. also i notice sometimes when i reread my stuff that i have a tendency to use the same phrases throughout multiple works which annoys me a bit 😭😭😭

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i love doing it! though i generally don't do it a lot as i feel like it needs to be used sparingly and well to avoid seeming sort of obnoxious, and i only write what i know. also idk the best way to provide translations - i sometimes don't do them, if it's only a word or two and/or they're commonly known, or else i've done parentheses right after. i don't like when people put the translations down in the notes bc i'm not going all the way down there every time i don't know a word lmao.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

if we're talking first fic ever, i'm pretty sure it was supernatural, but i never posted any of it.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

i think maybe fight, flight, or freeze from whumptober last year. it's tmfu (big surprise) and writing it made me Feel Things for sure.

not tagging anyone in particular but if you wanna do this then i tag you!

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @cha-melodius, thank you! <3<3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

439! The plan is posting two more tonight so hopefull that will soon be 441 LOL.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

939,623! Almost a million yay!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

At the moment mostly TMFU, I have been getting into writing Banana Fish fic too, and I write for The Witcher, though less frequently than TMFU.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Stretch (Buck/Eddie+Christopher, 911, 3x02 AU)

Everywhere I'm looking now, I'm surrounded by your embrace (Harvey/Mike, Suits, soulmates AU)

I held your hand as you shook in the middle of the night (Geralt/Jaskier, The Witcher, 1x06 fix-it)

Leave it unspoken (Harvey/Mike, Suits, a serial killer on the loose AU looool I had forgotten about this one)

Concession (Geralt/Jaskier, The Witcher, Geralt likes being the little spoon fic)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yesssss, I'm like constantly behind and sometimes I answer months late, but I love answering because 1) comments make me so happy and I want the readers who took the time to let me know they enjoyed the fic to KNOW THAT, 2) talking about fics is SO much fun, I think that discussing things in the comments is the best part of posting.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

LOOOOOOOOOOOL filter for MCD on my Ao3 and take your pick. But I'd go with either Forever is the sweetest con (Napoleon/Illya/Gaby, TMFU) because the story is told backwards, so you start with post-MCD and end pre-MCD, so the ending is happy but. well. the happiness is gone already and you know it LOL, or maybe Meaner than my demons, colder than this home (Napoleon/Illya/Gaby, TMFU), purely because generally speaking when I play with MCD I kill just one of them off and leave the other two to pick up the pieces, but here there's just Napoleon left, so. probably worse than the others LOL.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Sooo, I tend to write one-shots, and I HAVE written fluffy fics, but I think I'll go with Something gets lost from a safe distance (Napoleon/Illya, TMFU) because it's part of a three-part series that's all emotional hurt/comfort, and then it ends with fluffy kissing so.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Eh, it has happened, I think it's inevitable if you have been doing this for long enough LOL.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not usually, I did write a TMFU/Supernatural crossover though LOL.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yesss, more than once and it's always extremely flattering that someone would want to go through all that effort <3

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Right now I feel particularly strongly about the TMFU OT3 but like. I love so many.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I HAVE MULTIPLE LONGFICS SITTING IN MY DRAFTS DAMMIT. I just never want to post longfics unless I have either a first draft for every chapter or at the very least an extremely detailed outline for every chapter, which means that I end up always posting one-shots LOL. Two notable mentions among these longfics are a "Napoleon gets amnesia and bullshits his way through it to avoid telling anyone because he has trust issues" fic and an AU with Illya as a ghost that's a whole angsty mess. help me.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Eeeeeeeh the emotions I'd say. Or I HOPE so, since that's pretty much 80% of my writing loooool Also there a lot of lines of dialogue that I come up with that I unironically like.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Plots for one, I just tend to write snapshots with no real plot most of the time, and action. I don't LIKE writing it, which means I can never tell if it's boring or if I'm just projecting, and I tend to avoid it. ...also romance/attraction/getting-together. My aroace ass never knows what is believable romance and what are just tv show tropes that are not actually real LOL.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I generally don't do it and keep to the language of the narration, just clarifying "X says in German" if there's a change of language. I write limited third POV, so I just see it as "filtering" everything through the lens of the person that we are seeing the perspective of. If I'm writing from Gaby's POV, for instance (she's German but fluent in English), I feel like TECHNICALLY the narration should be in German, so by writing in English I have already chosen a filter that is not 100% accurate. But that's the filter I'm going with, so English is the language that Gaby is communicating to the reader in, so everything should be communicated through English lens: if she's talking to someone in English, I will just write the lines with no specifications, if she's talking in German I still write in English and write "in German" in the narration, and if someone speaks a language she doesn't know I don't write the actual dialogue because she doesn't understand it, so the reader doesn't get to see it either.

I hope this makes some sort of sense LOOOOOL, I don't really mind any way I've seen this done, but this is how I prefer to go about it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Fallen book series. LOL.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Evil question, go directly to jail, do not collect 100$. This answer will absolutely change every five minutes, but right now I'm particularly feeling Souvenir from a life left behind (Napoleon/Illya, TMFU), just a tiny dissolution of UNCLE fic with Napoleon angsting.

Tagging: @imgoingtofreakoutnow @ikeepwatchinghelicopters @thetamehistorian @huggiebird @deducitetemporacarmen @set-phasers-to-whump @cherryjuicegf @geralt-of-vengerberg and anyone else who hasn't done this yet and wants to play <3

#tag game #i say things #not whump #this was so fun tysm for the tag!!!!#long post

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shywhumpauthor · 2 years ago

Note

Can you do part 3 of the yandere whumper? It’s so good

I know I said I’d post this yesterday but shit happened, life got in the way. Shorter than I intended, not really any whump. Sorry

Part one || part two

Cw: noncon touching, creepy intimate yandere Whumper, kidnapping, past torture, past murder, abuse, potential implications of past noncon (of they’re there it was unintentional, but I suppose some interpretations could lead to that), past waterboarding, mentioned past starvation and dehydration

Whumpee’s knees buckled and they stumbled, quickly latching onto a wall before they could crumple. Their hands slid clumsily against the drywall, fumbling for a ledge as they slid to the ground. The carpet pressed softly against their knees, their elbows as they fell forwards, a rush of emotion seizing their chest. They pressed the back of their hand to their mouth, barely managing to muffle the sound as a sob bubbled past their lips.

Oh god, oh god this couldn’t be happening again. Caretaker had promised- they promised they were safe now. That whumper would never hurt them again. They had promised and now- now they were dead. They were dead and Whumpee was back.

They knew where the light switch was, but the simple thought of getting up to turn it on seemed impossible. A dull stream of moonlight seeped through the gaps in the blinds, but it wasn’t enough to allow Whumpee to see anything more than vague outlines against the shadows. In the corner, the mattress that had so long been their bed, though they couldn’t remember the last time they’d slept in it. For the longest while before they were discovered, before they were freed, they had spent sleeping either in Whumper’s bed or on the basement floor, tucked uncomfortably between a corner and a shelf while the shackles pinning their wrists prevented them from laying down fully.

Slowly, their eyes began to adjust, and they were able to make out more refined details. The open closet, which after their attempt to hide Whumper had removed the door from. All their clothes, which weren’t truly their clothes, rather the ones Whumper had picked from their own wardrobe to gift to them, folded neatly on the racks. Whumper didn’t tolerate mess. Whumpee had tried once, just to annoy them, tearing through the stacked piles and sending the fabric raining across the room.

Whumper hadn’t liked that much. A week in the basement, and Whumpee knew better than to try that again.

The mattress was done up nicely with soft bedding, almost making up for the fact that there was no bed frame. Whumpee had broken it, a long, long time ago, tried to use one of the antique wooden posts to smash through the window. It was on that day they had learned many things, that the glass was bullet proof, all of the furniture in their room had been part of a very expensive vintage set, which without certain pieces was virtually worthless, and that Whumper could be absolutely terrifying. That was the first time Whumper had ever hurt them.

Every day, the little pokes and nudges, the touches a bit too rough to be friendly hurt. Every sharp word and gentle caress brought along all sorts of emotional pain which Whumpee couldn’t begin to process. They had grown used to that. But what Whumper did that night, just the thought made them want to curl up and sob. The scars on their back, their arms and their legs, faded with time yet edges still clean. Whumper hadn’t just hurt them that night. They had broke them.

And finally, finally when Whumpee felt like they were being put back together, Whumper came and tore that all away.

A hot tear slid down Whumpee’s flushed cheek, which they were quick to wipe away, scrubbing their face with the back of their sleeve. For a moment, they allowed themself to lay there, carpet digging into their knees and their palms, before they stood on shaky legs and walked over to the bed. As much as they hated it, they knew Whumper would be a while before they got back, and if there was anything that pissed them off more than Whumpee’s disobedience, it was when they weren’t appreciative. If they didn’t act grateful enough when give a meal, they’d eat nothing but oatmeal and rice for the next week. If they didn’t wear the clothes Whumper went out and bought for them, fine, they wouldn’t get new clothes at all. If they didn’t use the fancy shampoos and conditioners Whumper bought them, alright, they’d wash their hair for them. Shove their head into the scalding hot bath and scrub at their scalp until Whumpee was sobbing, choking on the soapy water, begging for them to stop.

Whumpee nearly collapsed on top of the thick duvet. The room wasn’t particularly cold, but they couldn’t help but shiver. Stress, fear, anger all built in their chest until their entire body flooded with an icy chill, one they couldn’t seem to shake even as they buried themself under the blankets. It was exactly how they remembered it, the painful memories pricking the back of their mind like thorns. The pillows, fluffed and plentiful, firm enough without being uncomfortable. The bedding, cotton sheets cocooning around them to retain their body heat. The bed, which they tried so hard to resent but could never bring themself to hate, provided them a shelter, allowing them to burrow deep under the covers, away from all the pain.

Whumper never touched them in their own bed. A million boundaries, they broke, but this was one they believed in. It was the one space they allowed Whumpee to take refuge, within Whumper’s reason of course. They would sit with them, rest a hand against their shoulder and offer soft, gentle comforts, but they would never force the return of affection. They would never grab Whumpee’s wrist and rip them out of their haven, their touch would never turn rough. Anywhere else in the house, the threat lurked, but beneath the comforter with the soft mattress underneath them, Whumpee knew they were safe.

Safe was a pitiful word. Their eyes stung as they thought about it, the unwanted realizations twitching their mind. They were never truly safe with Whumper. All they did was hurt them, abuse them and manipulate them. Break them down and mold the remains into a being of their will.

But for now, that was the only safe place they had. Head tucked under the blankets like a child hiding from the monsters that lurked in the shadows, Whumpee was quick to surrender to the exhaustion.

When Whumper arrived later that night, holding freshly laundered clothes, still warm from the dryer, and a plate of Whumpee’s favorite, they found their love silently asleep.

Whumper smiled, sighing softly to themself. They set the clothes and the food on the floor, knowing well that by the time Whumpee woke up, they would both be cold. They walked over to the bed, crouching down by the side to run their fingers through Whumpee’s hair.

“I’ve missed you, my love,” They hummed quietly, and Whumpee didn’t stir.

—————————————

Lmk if there’s errors I didn’t edit

@rattyboyisemo

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a-crumb-of-whump · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 976 times in 2022

That's 976 more posts than 2021!

720 posts created (74%)

256 posts reblogged (26%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@whumpsday

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@waytoobsessed

@jordanstrophe

I tagged 958 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#whump - 430 posts

#whump stuff - 381 posts

#whump things - 347 posts

#whump thoughts - 345 posts

#whumpee - 316 posts

#whump scenarios - 302 posts

#reblog - 251 posts

#oc coco - 241 posts

#oc ollie - 230 posts

#caretaker - 213 posts

Longest Tag: 116 characters

#but when i imagine this i always imagine caretaker finding them all beaten and bloodied after the whumpers have left

My Top Posts in 2022:

Some Of My Favourite Whump-y Phrases

Content warning: [implied] dehumanisation, [implied] abuse/torture, manipulation.

Phrases said by Whumpee

"It hurts."

"I'll be good for you."

"Let me go!"

"Please, make it stop."

"You're hurting me!"

"I'm scared."

"I can't breathe-"

"Get the hell off me!"

"Please don't hurt me."

"Someone will come for me, just you wait."

"Please, no more."

"I can't do this anymore."

"I'm s- so cold."

"Please don't look at me like that."

"You make me feel disgusting."

"I just want to be loved."

Phrases said by Caretaker

"I've got you."

"Leave them alone."

"Why didn't you tell me this was happening?"

"I won't let you go, I promise."

"I should have done more to protect you."

"You're burning up."

"I don't care how long it takes, you bring them back to me or so help me god."

"It's okay, you can cry if you need to."

"You're safe now."

"Let me see them."

See the full post

674 notes - Posted February 24, 2022

"I will say it as many times as I need to for you to believe me," Caretaker promised, cupping Whumpee's beaten face in their warm hands to emphasise their words. "You did not deserve the things that man did to you. Not a single thing."

Whumpee sniffled. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

714 notes - Posted June 17, 2022

Content: Conditioned whumpee, PTSD/trauma.

"Are you sure you don't want to sleep up here with me?"

Whumpee shook their head, curling up in the corner of the room as best they could. "Whumper will be mad. C-can't make Whumper mad or I-I'll get a beating."

Whumper's not here anymore, Caretaker wanted to say, as they had been ever since Whumpee had gotten home. It was their go-to response whenever the conditioned Whumpee did something out of the usual. However, it was obvious that it was not working as they'd hoped.

So, they resorted to plan b instead.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Whumpee whispered, watching through wide eyes as Caretaker gathered all the bedding up off the mattress and promptly dumped it all on the floor. "Caretaker?"

"If Whumper won't let you sleep in bed, then I guess I'll just have to join you on the floor," Caretaker responded as they knelt down and began arranging everything to make somewhat of a bed. Once they were done, they climbed under the covers and opened up their arms, silently motioning Whumpee towards them. "Come on, honey."

Progress, caretaker thought to themself as felt Whumpee curl up beside them and rest their head on their shoulder. They wiped away several of their tears with their thumb, offering a gentle smile.

785 notes - Posted August 13, 2022

*Leaves out the bit where I torture my OCs relentlessly and then give them a soft blanket and call it a day*

820 notes - Posted August 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Tired Whumpees...

drifting in and out of consciousness every few minutes.

Getting emotional.

Falling asleep on uncomfortable surfaces.

Sleeping with their favourite stuffed animal/blanket/etc.

Talking/mumbling incoherently in their sleep.

Dozing off in Caretaker or Whumper's arms.

Forcing themselves to stay awake.

Curling up into a ball in their bed.

Scared of falling asleep due to nightmares/night terrors.

Falling asleep the moment they're safe in their favourite person's arms.

Whining/wincing at the bright lights.

Unable to recognise their caretaker when they see them.

Passing out from exhaustion.

Sleepily reaching out for Caretaker in hopes that they'll hold them.

Caretakers of tired whumpees...

Hushing someone who's being too loud whilst Whumpee is trying to sleep.

Brushing whumpee's hair out of their face to kiss their forehead as they doze off.

Promising they'll be there when they wake up.

Gently rocking Whumpee in their arms.

Bridal carrying them to their bed.

Watching over them as they sleep.

Tucking them in tight.

Humming soothingly to them.

Turning the air-con/heater on to help keep them cool/warm.

Reading a book/watching a movie beside them to make sure they're okay.

Lying on Whumpee because it helps them sleep.

Resting their hand on Whumpee's forehead every now and again.

Admiring them as they sleep.

Getting emotional the moment Whumpee isn't awake to see them.

See the full post

1,268 notes - Posted March 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#:)

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ashintheairlikesnow · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 4,647 times in 2022

2,759 posts created (59%)

1,888 posts reblogged (41%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ashintheairlikesnow

@boxboysandotherwhump

@whump-tr0pes

@wildfaewhump

@redwingedwhump

I tagged 3,488 of my posts in 2022

Only 25% of my posts had no tags

#kauri asks - 296 posts

#reblog - 285 posts

#jameson asks - 185 posts

#vince asks - 175 posts

#antoni asks - 171 posts

#whump - 157 posts

#bbu - 154 posts

#chris asks - 150 posts

#ash rambles - 149 posts

#jake asks - 107 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#i think though that there was a lot of activity during the earliest days of the pandemic and maybe it just wasn't sustainable long term

My Top Posts in 2022:

My friend wants to share her arm bruise for whump community reference usage

119 notes - Posted April 14, 2022

Jameson. Screaming. I leave you to fill in the rest.

CW: Pet whump, whipping, implied noncon (fade to black), defiant whumpee

By the time their arms start to tire, his screams have gone hoarse, and they laugh at him and bark like seals to mock what little sound he can still made. The crowd of them, men who reek like the cheap beer they drink until it comes out of their pores with their sweat.

They've bent him over a table, ankles tied to the legs so he's up on his toes, leg muscles strained and forced straight for the first time in... days? Weeks? His wrists are somewhere above his head, his shoulder blades and ass digging into rough wood.

They bring the folded-over belt down on his thighs until the white flashes of pain blend with the colors behind his eyelids and the overwhelming blend of their voices on his tongue, until it's one long blazing agony wiping out all thought.

When they are done with his thighs, they move on to his hips. Each blow rains down and his body jerks in response, rattling the table as he shrieks. The cords in his neck stand out, head thrown back.

He's drowning in his own sweat, bathed in it. Hair sticks to his neck. There's no pleasure in being whipped like this.

When one of them moves to open his mouth and coos that he's a pretty little slut, he still has enough of a mind to jerk his head away, spit, and snarl, "Fuck you," in the gravel-pebble remains of his voice.

Brute punches him, his head snapping back, knocking into the table he's tied down to. He goes limp, wishing you really got to see stars when you took a blow like this.

This time when someone grabs his jaw, it hangs open, limp. Pain throbs up his legs and across his abdomen, through his head. Brute smacks a flat palm to his stomach, already a blistered red from that belt and too-hot candle wax.

Someone unties his ankles. No one moves to do the same to his hands. He groans, trying to kick out only to have Brute grab his leg and force it up, bent at the knee, heel to the back of his thigh.

He tries to scream as his muscles shriek their own agonized protest, but only a hiss comes out. Rope wraps around, holds his leg in place. They repeat the actions with the other leg, too. He feels like his ass is halfway off the fucking table and he knows what happens next.

He goes a little limp.

At least once they've all had a turn, he can crawl back to his room, curl up on his mattress, and cry until he sleeps.

"You won the game tonight," Brute says to someone else, magnanimous. He gestures at the pet, stretched and bent and twisted for them, dazed eyes struggling to focus, to know who to hate most. "You get first dibs."

Right. The violence was just the opening number. Now the real act comes on stage.

Some man steps forward, a regular player. He grins down at the pet. "Let me get between those legs." Once he speaks, the pet recognizes his voice from hours spent kneeling under the poker table.

"I'm gonna split you in fucking half," the man whispers, almost tenderly, but he can't say it with half the affection and playful promising threat that Nanda did.

The pet's eyes flutter shut before he has to watch the zipper come down.

This is going to hurt.

Then again, he hasn't stopped hurting since he found Nanda at the bottom of the stairs.

He tries screaming again, as the pain rises and rises in a punishing rhythm, but this time...

This time, he makes no sound at all.

149 notes - Posted March 9, 2022

Something about Tolkien writing Samwise Gamgee as a kind of homage to the soldiers he oversaw as an officer, many of whom he saw be wounded or worse, chokes me up a little.

167 notes - Posted January 1, 2022

One of Jake’s rescues becoming ill, but managing to keep their condition to themself by mostly sticking to their room. Until their fever spikes, and half the safehouse witnesses them collapse when on their way to the kitchen for water.

CW: Sickfic, feverish whumpee, sick whumpee, memory loss, BBU, past pet whump referenced, caretaker and whumpee

This is for @vickytokio who has been so patient in waiting for this moment.

There is a hand at his elbow, and he shakes it off, shifting to press his back to the wall. It's cool, cold enough to make him shiver, and his shirt sticks to the sweat on his lower back as he tips his head back.

"Eli?" Antoni leans over him, eyebrows furrowed in a slight, soft concern.

Better him than anyone else, Eli thinks.

"I'm fine," Eli says, voice low. The music of his natural singsong, the softest hint of an accent from the mystery of his birth, is buried beneath a hoarse, husky overlay. His throat aches, stabbing sharp pains with every swallow, making him wince. "Just thirsty."

Antoni’s lips thin, and there’s a tension to him. Eli’s eyes roam slowly over the lines of his shoulder beneath the heavy sweater he wears, linger on the single ancient round scar on one side of his neck. “You are sick,” He says, softly. “I know sick.”

“Oh, do you.” Eli pushes himself to his feet, using the wall for balance, and when Antoni wordlessly offers a hand he pulls away from it, moving further down the hall towards the kitchen.

He wishes he didn’t have to shuffle not to feel like he’ll fall over. It doesn’t help him seem as fine as he’d like.

“You should… you should rest,” Antoni says, a little helplessly, as he shadows Eli down the hallway. Eli sets his jaw and ignores him. The rough touch of the hallway along his fingertips hurts. His skin feels stretched over empty air inside him, and he shivers at something like a breeze.

“I want a drink of water,” He says. He can’t keep his voice low enough to disguise the roughness of it. There’s a pressure above and beneath his eyes, throbbing as it pushes against the bone beneath. He has to squint against the ache of the light. “I’ll lay down after that, An-... Antoni.”

“Please,” Antoni says, and there’s something tentative and nearly tremulous in his own voice. “Pozhaluysta, Eli, let me help you.”

Eli pauses, and the corner of his mouth twitches, the faintest, faded hint of a smile. “Mne ne nuzhna tvoya pomoshch', Antoni.”

He risks the dizziness to turn, just so he can see the look of shock on the other man’s face. “You-... you-... ty govorish' po-russki?”

“Da.” Eli laughs, raspy and barely-there, and wanders into the kitchen. It feels like it’s taken weeks, months, ages just to walk from his room in the back into here. Sunlight streams in from outside, and he shudders against the stabbing pain of a memory of a warmer sun in a hotter place, of a different kind of hand pressed to his forehead. A whisper of a woman’s voice, Asahaay bachcha. Ab so jao, Jairaj.

Her eyes and skin and hair were all so dark, blocking out the hated, hurtful sun when he burned, warm as a blanket when he froze. Warm hands on cold skin, cool palm to sweating forehead or the back of his neck.

He tries to forget it as quickly as he can, to let her voice slip back and away. He can’t take the migraine that comes with memories, on top of all his other hurts. The bones of his very thighs ache as he makes his shuffling way to the fridge, opening it up.

“Since-... since when do you-”

“My master,” Eli says, pulling out a bottle of vaguely-gray-blue Gatorade, twisting off the top and drinking the cool, sweet liquid until it runs out of either side of his mouth. “Loved opera. We went to the Bolshoi at least once a year, the two of us. He had friends who were Russian. I learned to pass the time. There was…” He hesitates, staring at the Gatorade. Somehow, half of it is already gone. “There was so much time.”

Antoni is quiet, but he moves to the side, setting the kettle on the stove full of water to boil, pulling down two mugs. Eli watches him with hazy eyes as he opens two different boxes of tea, the elaichithat Eli prefers, heavy and sweet with cardamom and ginger, his own strong black tea. “The day gets away from you,” Antoni says without looking at him.

Eli considers escaping back to his room from this… this moment that comes between them, uncomfortable intimacy.

Instead, he turns and leans against the fridge, lets the cold of it soothe the burn of his skin right through his shirt. “There are too many days,” He says, wiping at his mouth, looking down to find drips of Gatorade soaked into his shirt. Oh, well. It can join the sweat, can’t it? “Especially after my bonded was gone-... after I came back to my master. What else did I have to do, but learn while locked into my master’s bedroom?”

“Your bonded must miss you,” Antoni says, quietly. He stays on the other side of the room the span of the table and chairs between them, and Eli could cry with gratitude at the air Antoni gives him to breathe, so unlike the suffocating concern of therapists and doctors and Jakob Stanton.

“I assume he is dead,” Eli says, voice flat. “We don’t live long, away from each other. Everyone knows that.”

“But you are here,” Antoni counters, voice gentle. “You are still here, Eli.”

Eli raises his chin, jaw set, dark eyes flashing beneath the fog of his fever. “I am stronger than others.”

“Stronger than your bonded?”

His heart flutters, deep down, beneath the solid breastplate of bone where it is carefully shielded. He can withstand the blows.

See the full post

219 notes - Posted January 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Ask My OC Anything

Ask my OC any question you want! Any question at all, and they will answer it. I can even promise they’ll probably answer honestly.

Go ahead - ask my OC!

501 notes - Posted February 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #honestly some of these surprised me #like kauri asks being the most popular tag?#did not expect that #everything else pretty much tracks

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