#its even WORSE when they ship all 3 of them with her and they just pass her around and its so WEIRD and just | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 1 month

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Calming Waves

Hunter x Reader

Summary- After finding out Omega has been taken for the third time, you and Hunter must comfort each other. Set at the end of s.3 ep.11

A/N- I AM FERAL FOR THIS MAN!!!!! It didn't turn out exactly how I wanted. The idea wasn't as fresh in my head as I would have liked. Nevertheless, enjoy!

Word Count- 1,439

Your chest heaved, desperate for air as you ran. Your feet hurt from how hard they were hitting the pavement. The Empire ships were leaving, that meant either two things.

Omega was dead, or Omega was taken.

Tears burned your eyes as you still raced for the top of Pabu where Shep's home was. That was the designated hideout.

You were close to hyperventilating, but seeing the humble cottage in the distance gave you the last boost you needed. You had to know what happened.

With a fury you didn't know you had, you slammed the door open.

"Where is she!" You yelled out when you saw only Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair.

Hunter was the first to face you, his own eyes glossy. He said nothing, just pulled you into a tight hug.

With realization you sobbed. If it wasn't for Hunter holding you up, you would have fallen.

You cried and cried, Crosshair could only look down in shame.

"Shhh, Shhh, we will find her..." You managed to catch your breath at his reassuring words. Hunter rubbed your back soothingly, even though he was barely hanging on himself.

"What... What happened?" You stood by yourself again, tears still silently falling. You wiped them away violently.

All eyes turned to Crosshair at your question. You noticed and followed their gazes. "What did you do?" You asked, words laced with poison.

"She, Omega, she gave herself up." He revealed, your heart sank again. She was so brave...

With a single stride forward- SLAP!

Your hand stung, bad. You just hoped Crosshairs cheek hurt worse. Your stare sent daggers to him.

He saw the hit coming, he really did. He just agreed that he deserved it, letting you deliver the blow.

"And you let her? You were supposed to protect her!" You pressed, unable to grasp how he could do such a thing.

"She.... She felt guilty, all of the lives that were going to be lost-"

"Do you think I give hell about anyone else?" You argued. "If we start to think about strangers, then we'd all be dead."

He looked remorseful, but not apologetic. "Omega saw the bigger picture."

This set you off, grabbing your blaster from its holster. "She is a child," a sob threatened, "She is too busy seeing the good in people to know how much bad there truly is."

Wrecker sat silent, watching. He was still injured from the bomb.

You weren't actually going to shoot him, in your fury you just acted irrationally. Hunter knew this as well, but still came to your side.

His hand wrapped around yours, gently lowering your weapon and hand.

"I can't even look at you right now..." At that, you turned on your heel. You didn't exactly know where you were going, just that you needed some air.

Hunter was at your side, a hand trying to wrap around your hip. "No, just leave me alone. I cannot believe this!" You pushed his hand away, admittedly harsh.

"I won't let you run off. We need to stick together right now." He managed to grip your wrist, you let him.

You sighed deeply, "Then come with me."

"Always..." He moved his hand down to grasp yours lovingly.

While the thought of marching back in and demanding a plan crossed your mind- Wrecker was hurt and you had no ship. The best you could do was wait for Echo or Phee to return your messages. Your mind still wandered at ways to find her.

You found yourself at the shoreline, right by Omegas hideaway cave. You didn't mean to stop there, but you guessed your subconscious wanted to be closer to her.

With a puff you sat down in the sand, hands mindlessly feeling the grain beneath you.

Hunter stood by your side, still on guard. You, however, were too worn out to care anymore.

"Three times..." You stated, not looking up. The wind blew your hair back. It could have been a scene from a holo-movie. The light breeze only made your heart ache more. The countless times you'd spent in this every spot with Omega grieved you.

"I know." You could hear him shuffle. You only responded by bringing your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them.

With a sniffle, you'd decided to speak again. "I hope she's not too scared. Even if it was her choice to hand herself over, she must still be scared." Tears welled at the thought of her.

Hunter moved forward, squatting down to rest a hand on your shoulder. "She's a tough girl." Silence again.

You knew she was tough, but the 'biggest' and 'strongest' of men wavered at The Empire. What could a single girl do against a whole Imperial army?

Hunter tried to ease your nerves, "We've done it twice before, we will save her again. Her and the other captured clones." This only fueled your anger.

"And then what?" You snapped, jerking your head up at him. "The Empire will never stop looking for her! They will just come again and again."

He looked down, avoiding your gaze.

"Hunter, I just want to be normal." You rested your face in your hands, still leaning on your knees. "Is that bad? To not have anyone after us. Just you, me, Omega...I mean, of course the guys too..."

"No. No, not at all." He said.

Your shoulders shook with your crying. "I'm sorry, i'm trying to keep it all together." You said messily, wiping your eyes.

At this, he finally embraced you. Pulling you completely into his arms. You were practically in his lap. He tucked your head into his shoulder.

"I just want our daughter back." You sobbed out, holding onto Hunter hopelessly.

"Even if it is the last thing I do, I will bring Omega home. We will bring her home." He pet your head gently, his calm and serious voice started to soothe you.

Your voice was muffled by his skin, but you spoke on. "I am so tired of running."

"I know, me too."

You both just held each other for awhile, the sound of the waves helped you steady your breathing.

Hunter broke the silence. "After this, after we save her... I think we should all disappear."

"Disappear?" You questioned, even though you were sure what he meant.

"Wouldn't be too hard to fake our deaths." He said stoically, staring across the water.

You leaned up at this, shuffling so you could look at him. "What about all of your connections? Phee, Shep, I mean-" You sighed, "...We can't tell them can we?"

"It's like you said, when we start to think about strangers we risk ourselves." He was turning cold.

You eventually agreed, resting your head back on his collarbone.

"We've got an incoming message from Phee." You both heard over Hunter's comms.

"Headed your way." Hunter replied.

He squeezed you a last time, hands still on you gently. "Let's go, talking to Phee will bring us a step closer to Omega."

You nodded, heart swelling when Hunter reached down to swipe the last of your tears away.

You pulled back, touching the sand with your hand a last time. Your tears were dried, all that was left was fury. A fury that could rival The Empire.

After talking with Phee, she agreed that she would head your way. You hoped she wouldn't mind helping you four, just until Echo could fetch a ship.

Tension was high, you all waited for her to arrive. Crosshair kept looking your way, but you didn't return it.

You had thought about your exchange, and was feeling pretty guilty. You knew Crosshair wanted Omega safe, that he was only doing what he thought was right.

"Crosshair?" You called out to him, he stood at his name.

"Can we talk outside?" He nodded and followed you.

The two of you leaned over the railing outside of Shep's house. Both looking over to the water. "I'm sorry-" He started, but you interrupted.

"No, I'm sorry. I know it was Omegas idea. Her heart is too big to watch the people of Pabu get taken. I.. I wasn't actually going to shoot you.." You fiddled with your fingers, ashamed.

"I know. I'd have done the same. She, she just wants to make everyone happy." You smiled at his words, the description of her bringing you comfort.

You leaned closer to him, nudging his shoulder. "I might have a way to find the Tantiss coordinates."

You ushered him back inside, perfect timing to see Phee approaching. A plan was soon demised. You'd find a way back to Omega, no matter what.

A/N- Okay, let's be real. Hunter was not as mad as he should have been about losing Omega FOR THE THIRD TIME! That is my excuse for writing this! Thank you so much for reading!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @dangraccoon @knight-of-flowerss

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tpher · 5 months

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scary girl analysis !

something something the most clearly gimmicky gen 4 character we know. as your resident pahkitew island apologist, i dont care. it actually took me a bit to warm up to her and i figured id talk abt why that is

so her main thing is being creepy and sadistic for the sake of jokes. its not serious.. mostly. she does prove to actually be down to hurt others (such as when she got a hold of a jackhammer). but what about an instance where she wanted to hurt someone for actual reasons? when was that?

that was when priya went up to her to compliment her on doing a good job on the previous challenge. priya says that shes surprised by scary girl having done a good job.

scary girls response?

a very defensive "oh, it surprised you that i was good? cuz you thought id do bad?"

and thats the thesis of this post

scary girl is very insecure

backing up for a moment, in ep 2 when the teams were on ships and attacking each other, she was the one who came up with the idea of sinking the other teams ship as an idea on what to do when they were out of ammo (? iirc). but no one else heard that, just zee

then in ep 3, ripper makes her go last in the relay race thing bc he didnt want her to "blow things" for the team. she reacts by trying to bite his finger. not with a funny creepy smile, but with genuine anger to her literal bite. and then during that challenge, she infamously grabs a bear by the arm and starts beating it up while saying "thats what you get for growling at me!!!". once shes done, she goes "byeee" and goes on like nothing happened. proving that if someone wrongs her, she can easily let it go.. so long as she gets to do something back. remember this for later

and here we come back to her interaction with priya. so far, scary girl has proven herself to be a pretty alright player and she herself knows that. so the notion of someone being SURPRISED she did well?? does not sit well with her at all. but the way that she harps on the wording, even before zee steps in to make it worse, is what gets to me. it just really adds an extra layer to her character that, well. ironically surprised me! for someone who always seems to be in her own world, so unconventional, so ill-fitting with everyone else to also be insecure in some capacity?

anyway she tries to hurt priya with a spoon but gets interrupted. later on, priya is still thinking abt their encounter and feels bad so she tries to make it up to scary girl by flattering her. namely by saying that scary girls question was smart.. and priya being her awkward self, only dug herself in a hole by making it seem like that was a smart question by scary girls standards

scary girl is speechless. baffled. mad beyond words

it should be noted that scary girl looked offended when priya even started speaking. meaning that she also did not forget about their conversation that morning. she REALLY took it to heart. applying the bear logic here, had scary girl hurt her with the spoon earlier, would she be less mad? would she had considered each other even? and in that case, would this comment go over better or would it had simply restarted her need for revenge?

well. they dont interact for the rest of the episode up until the very end. after ripper used priya as a human shield, obviously injuring her

scary girl tells her that rippers a jerk and that priya didnt deserve that. so she'll be voting to get ripper out. and calls priya her "friend".

(her face and tone makes me a bit suspicious if this was genuine. but thats probably just her being her offputting self so i'll ignore it.) ok so by scary girl logic, priya deserved to have SOMETHING bad coming her way after what she said to her.

but not this.

scary girl, who came here to "make friends and watch them get really hurt", was not okay with what ripper did to priya. perhaps she thinks that only she could be allowed to hurt priya to balance things out? personally giving priya her karma, perhaps?

but now she considers priya a "friend". who likely wants to see her get hurt. but in the fun way that scary girl likely sees most other contestants as, possibly? idk.

anyway after all of that, we can see just how insecure scary girl can get over unintentionally awkward phrasing. just how deeply it hurts her feelings to be underestimated like that

season 2 spoilers ahead !!!

in season 2, we see even less of her. but there is SO much to work with

normal girl is so fascinating to me

by the time s2 starts, scary girl already has an all new look. shes trying to be "normal"

she admits in her confessional that some ppl thought she was too scary in the first season so thats why she changed her appearance and her everything. who were these ppl?

other than a dog as a joke, online forums, showing an interesting glimpse into the in-universe ""real world"" stepping into total drama. perhaps also a meta joke on the fandoms response to her but who knows. imagine unabashedly being yourself on tv and everyone is telling you to change. you are 16 and likely going through a weird phase. feeling a lot of heightened emotions already and ""knowing"" that this is who you are (at the moment). and if its not a phase? still 16 on international television getting lambasted by millions

and last but not least, her MOM??? her own mother. that just raises more questions abt how scary girl was before getting on td. was she NOT like this before? was she playing it up for the cameras? or did she just go unhinged without parental supervision? in any case the fact is that even her own mom wasnt okay with what makes her happy and how she presented herself.

so scary girls solution? to try her best to suppress anything that made her unique. to try to adhere to "societal norms", in her own words.

we dont see much of her in this ep other than her commenting on how shes normal and totally did not want to see someone get hurt. shes clearly struggling so bad. she knows that apparently what she likes isnt "right", therefore the opposite must be true, right?

she is simultaneously so immediately different that the others didnt even recognize her at first. yet still so "scary" that she cant fit in. she just doesnt know how no matter how hard she tries. if she were to stay longer, what can she do? this game is not only abt your skills in the challenges its also a social thing. how long until she snapped and went back to her old ways?

and then we get to the campfire ceremony. chef is about to call out whatever it was the she did wrong that day, but she interrupts him with a simple "no."

she cannot fathom being sent home, at least not this early. bc shes normal! she is sooo normal and she tried SO HARD to be normal! she read normal books and normal movies and studied normal people. she even taught herself to smile in a more acceptable way, which is so autistic coded to me. so she deserves to stay longer.

(getting flashbacks to my topher psychoanalysis and his entitlement being both a tragedy and his self-imposed downfall)

..but she studied "normal people" in her own not-normal way. while they werent looking. while they were sleeping. while they had no idea she was there.

so she got booted out for that. and she cannot believe it.

when she says that she "didnt even try to hurt anyone this time", she is mad. that was her ""fun"" and she managed to control it 100% only to get eliminated??? shes fed up!

but when she talks about how she taught herself how to smile in a "less-creepy" way?

she softens up and looks genuinely hurt.

she tried so hard. she saw all those horrible comments from people judging her based on like 5 episodes on a reality show. her own mother didnt accept her. her insecurity won and she aimed to change and repress everything that made her unique

and it still wasnt enough

#txt #td scary girl #td spoilers #i think parts of this sound like im seriously condoning her hurting others bc its [her] fun #and i am! scarysweep

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adi-azzz · 3 months

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Rating Hazbin Hotel Ships

!!! THIS IS MY OPINION !!!

Huskerdust : 100/10 absolutely love. i rlly think angel could use someone who is good to him and for him. I rlly like the idea that they'll be super sweet and not rush into anything. I rlly hope husk has a part in freeing angel from vals control if that even happens later in the show!

radiohusk : -1000/10 i rlly dont like alastor ships (for more info on why read last post.) if its platonic then sure but romantic -or god forbin sexual- no.

radiodust : -1010/10 i like this one even less. we know alastor has no interes in anyone, let alone angel (as shown in episode one angel talks about filming him and al going at it as the hotel ad and al laughs and says it'll never happen)

radiostatic : -1,000,000/10 it would be so one sided like omgg. like vox obsessed with al and al being repulsed by him. that is a horrible relationship for voxs mental health.

radioapple : 0/10 could be worse. i get people like enemies to lovers but brah they arent lovers and never will be. like platonic divorsed dads for charlie is fine but people writing about/drawing them going at it like rabbits is just 😬🫣

adams apple : 4/10 not my fav but i can def see where people are coming from. Like in the fight when luci says "im gonna fuck you" he totally could have ment that as "i got both your wives and now i want you." if adam is even in season 2 (tries to get redemed after he died ends up in hell) i wouldnt be too horribly surprised if they end up having a fling or a possible relationship of some kind. still suprised but not too bad

appledust : 3/10 i like them platonically. like they gossip abt the guys/girls they like, talk shit abt val and alastor, vent to each other, cry together, laugh together, and try and get one another with who ever they want (i.e angel w/ husk and luci w/ whoever he might want so like adam if a fling does happen)

chaggie : 10/10 i LOVE them i just want them to have more flavor. i need their relationship to get fleshed out more. like we had one little fight and a sweet like 1 min song. I WANT MORE from the only lesbian couple in that damn show.

sir pen x cherri : 7/10 i love the dynamic despite how little of it we got in the show. like hes hopeless and she that bitch. i rlly hope cherri ends up trying to redeem herself to meet pen in heaven.

cherri x angel : 2/10 platonic is cool but romantic jusy doesnt seem right to me since angel is gay. i honestly dont know how i feel abt their friendship long term because cherri doesnt seem like too great of an influence on him.

adam x lute : 4/10 probably just one sided as fuck. like no way lute didnt have feelings for adam. he made her and she was his favorite ofc she was going to fall in love but i dont think he liked her back man.

lucifer x lilith : 2/10. all im sayin is they divorsed for a reason :/

LMK IF I MISSED ANY ^_^

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stanlunter · 1 month

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I'm kinda curious why you don't like catradora? Is it just not your thing or do you have reasons? Just kinda curious as I almost always only see the "they were enemies! And that makes it too toxic!" But I saw you like catra/glimmer so yeah, just curious as someone who personally likes it but also hasn't watched the show in ages

Thank you for your question

Yeah, I do hate it, mb not its fans (or at least not all of them, cuz most of them are actually super annoying, but anyways) tho. Also sorry for my bad English

As for the reasons, there are actually many reasons:

Starting with, like you said

1. Being toxic. But the difference with Glitra is that in their way It's not like Catra abuses Glimmer, no, they hate each other mutually, there ia no "abuser x victim" dynamic, bc they hurt each other mutually. Also there are no manipulations, guilt-trips, gaslighting and etc, they are completely honest with each other. While with Adora, their dynamic is rather "abuser x victim" than "enemies to lovers" bc Adora never wanted to hurt Catra, she was always only ensuring what Catra's doing and saying. Adora was always holding back, never tried to kill Catra or make her feel like nothing or hate herself and all her fights were litterally either self-defense or defense of her friends or other people who were attacked by Catra. While Catra always tried to hurt Adora, both mentally and physically, tried to kill her many times, tried to make her hate herself and etc, etc. She was the reason why Adora had such a strong hero complex and always wanted to sacrafice herself. Adora litterally had panic attacks bc of Catra. And the whole "it was a war" argument doesn't work here bc being a war criminal doesn't make Catra any better and bc Catra was toxic to Adora even when they were on the same side. She was always jealous, controlling, possesive and didn't want Adora to have other friends. She wanted Adora to belong to her, which was shown many times. Also she physically hurt her many times, gaslighted her and etc. So their relationship would be much more abusive than Glitra relationship. And what makes it even worse is that Catra has learnt all her abusive traits from SW - recognized Adora's abuser. Catra litterally copies everything the main abuser who has traumatized Adora in the forefront does, which is actually creepy af too. Even she tortures Adora in s4 she says that she took the idea from SW. So she just takes the abuse she (and Adora) has been throught and intentionally uses it against Adora

Even if you have a kink for abusive ship, you should write them well and not put them in a kid show, normalizing abuse by this. There are examples of good enemies to lovers in kid shows which aren't abusive and It's fine (like Dipper/Pacifica, Talon/Penny, Bubblegum/Marcelin kinda, Amaya and Janai (It's good and It's wlw too), even Glimmadora would work since they were enemies too and etc).

2. The whole being "basically adoptive sisters" thing. They aren't actual sisters, but they were actually implied to be so. I won’t even mention every time the CREW referred to them this way (however, there were many times), but the main problem is that their whole relationship is fully based on the "Skapegoat & Golden child" dynamic. And SW is a mother figure who loves one child and hates the other one, who always tries to earn her love and jealous and hate the favourite child. Some people say SW was just a teacher and not a mom figure, but it would be a lie at least bc 1. The crew has stated SW as a mother figure, so It's canon anyways 2. It was said by Adora that SW was like a mother to her 3. You don't try to earn your teacher's LOVE like Catra does 4. The whole thing that SW sees herself in Catra and wanted fulfil her ambitions throught Adora. Also SW wasn't a mother figure for other cadets, it wasn't actually her duty to teach Lonnie, Kyle, Rogelio and others. She was a right hand, not a teacher and she was there only for Adora bc she decided so and for Catra bc Adora wanted so. So, even if you're trying to ignore it, It's a huge part of the plot and a base of their relationship. Oddly enough, but many catradora shippers actually love to admit that "SW was a bad abusive mother", "Catra & Adora have mommy issues", "Adora is a favourite child" and etc, yet when you point it out, they start denying it. I find it strange.

Another thing is subjective, just my personal vision, but I highly dislike all "childhood friends" ships (mb with exceptions if they always actually had feelings for each other, but in catradora case we find out about it only later, especially from Adora's perspectice). Also there is a biological theory that if kids know each other since the age under 6, they see each other as siblings anyways, especially if they grow up together in the same house, especially with the sams parent figure. So, even tho it's subjective, It's an important reason to ms. And I actually did thought of them so and thought everyone does untill I joined the fandom. So even if I don't recognize "see each other as siblings" thing when it comes to usual friends who haven't been grown up together, I do with those who have. Flr example, Renora. This ship was always weird to me and when they become canon, it didn't make me love it. I don't think It's problematic, but it absolutely does make me feel uncomfortable. Like, if you haven't developed your feelings for each other for during these 10 years you were together, where are the feelings suppose to come from later?

But yeah, childhood friends thing is my subjective reason

3. Catra's redemption arc was horrible. And redemption arc is one of the most important things when it comes to enemies-to-lovers, since It's the thing that suppose to help them become canon. Everyone immidiatly has to forgive Catra and no one calls Catra out for what she has done. Even Glimmer, who's mom was killed bc of Catra or Adora who has been abused by Catra for years. And so Catra doesn't even actually changes. She just swaps sides and immidiatly becomes Adora's gf. That's the problem. If you write enemies-to-lovers, do it well

4. The whole way the shis was handled. It just doesn't make sense and completely ruins the whole development of almost all characters. Adora's development is getting destroyed and she just comes back to s1 Adora. Her whole arc was about stopping blaming herself for Catra's actions, separating from her abusers and getting a life. But she just ends up forgiving Catra and considering Catra a victim of herself. And starts blaming herself for "leaving" Catra again. They just forget everything they've been throught. And what about Catra? Catra was obsessed the whole time. She hated Adora and liked hurting her. Catra was litterally addictive to Adora. It wasn't love, it was possesion. And giving an addict a drug isn't a way to go. Catra should separated from Adora, learn how to live without the idea of being "either with her, or againt her". That's why I think her leaving the Horde with Scorpia and going to a Crimson waste would be the best happy ending for her. She would get a life, get what she wanted (being loved), what she needed and what she deserved and let her issues go. So they just aren't good for each other. Having Adora around was always hurting Catra, Catra never was able to fully show herself when Adora was with her in the Horde and she even saya that Adora leaving gave her a chance to fulfil her actual potential, so Adora leaving was the best thing happened to her. Even if Catra wasn't fully agree with her own words, it was basically truth, bc Catra actually did feel bad bc of Adora when they were together (it wasn't Adora's fault, but still). Catra was always blaming Adora for her problems and didn't stop even in s5. So It was bad not only for Adora, but for Catra as well

Also Adora never even loved Catra before. If Catra's possesion can be called love at some point, it doesn't work this way with Adora. Yeah, Adora cared about Catra as a friend, but DT was right, Adora didn't need Catra. She didn't have such big problems with letting Catra go. After s1 she forgot Catra and never recalled her as a friend, only as an enemy. So her whole "I love you too" thing just came out of nowhere and was a lie. Just like "I never hated her" bc Adora did and it was shown. Adora got new friends who care about her and getting Catra was absolutely unnecessary for her. It doesn't work even as a Stockholm Syndrome or a trauma bond, bc it was never shown and Adora got a development

Actually, if it did make sense, mb I would like it, but unfortunately it really doesn't and only ruines everything the show has been building for years, which is sad, cuz I used to love both Catra and Adora

It's also strange to me how shippers compare catradora to so many actually good wlw couples like Korrasami, Harlivy, Caitvy, Lumity, Bumbleby, Chaggie and etc, while in reality their relationship is much closer to Tauradonna (which is actually hated by Bumbleby shippers, which is ironic) and Citrus and actually Shin Soukoku and Simon/Grace, or even some actual/ almost actual siblings like Vi/Jinx, Zuko/Azula, Rapunzel/Cassandra, Claudia/Soren, Qrow/Raven, Maki/Mai, Nightwing/Red hood, Thor/Loki, White queen/ Red queen and etc.

But I would prefer to compare it to Shin Soukoku tho

So, these are the main reasons. Actually I don't understand why can't catradora shippers just admit that their ship is problematic and enjoy it as it is, bc it doesn't really make sense to just make ship a full ooc and make it romantic and sweet to like it, bc it litterally goes against the whole point and everything it always has been. So I have a big respect for those shippers who do admit the problems and enjoy it without lying to themselves and gaslighting others tbh

Anyways, thanks for a question, it was actually interesting to answer it and you can feel free to asnwer, desagree or agree, Im not a hater or smth

#Anti catradora #Anti c//a #anti spop s5 #spop criticism #spop critical

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 1 year

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Stonemilker [Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Ship: Joel Miller x you (cishet f reader)

Tags/warnings: Heartache, breakup stuff, Ellie lives and Joel is lying to her, sad sex, you know this is ending sex, Couple fighting, idk what this is folks, it's a sad story with a hopeful ending.

Summary: When Joel returns to Jackson with Ellie, something has changed. Can your relationship survive it? Takes place after episode 9 of season 1.

Words: 3,967

A/N: The title Stonemilker is the title of the first track of Björk's Vulnicura (2015), an album solely about the end of a relationship. Cheers to @rambling-in-purple for reading it before posting <3!

Joel returned a changed man. A younger man. A less hurting man.

Ellie was with him, of course, hugging you tightly in the kitchen of the small house you had been given. You had been setting the dinner table for one when she had burst in and called your name, Joel striding in behind her. You dropped the plate, and the porcelain pieces spread around your feet.

Little did you know that your life was about to shatter in the same way.

Joel gave you a warm hug, nothing more. You wanted to hear everything about their journey, but they were both tired and hungry, so you gave them time to shower and change into clean clothes while you adapted dinner to feed three.

Later that night, when you went to bed with Joel, you saw the hideous wound on the right side of his stomach. He told you what had happened since he and Ellie left Jackson.

He told you everything: the abandoned college, the stab wound, and how close he was to dying. Ellie saving him. The resort. All the dead bodies. The hospital.

His decision. Hallways of dead people left behind. His lie to Ellie.

"Joel..."

He looked at you with shrouded eyes. Where there used to be an iron curtain, there was now a thin veil that showed depths of horrors, but also hope. It scared you more than the hard metallic gaze that you were used to.

You knew why he did it. You understood him. You would probably have done the same.

"You have to tell her."

"One day, I will."

"Sooner rather than later. She deserves to know the truth."

There it was, the unyielding steel in his eyes. He never appreciated being told the obvious. But when Ellie did that, slapped him in the face with inconvenient truths and poignant teases, he grimaced to keep from smiling. When you did it, you received a glare.

You had always thought that that glare was yours because Joel didn't have any other way of expressing his reluctant amusement. And it was, but there was a smile-hiding grimace as well, just not for you.

Something had changed. You didn't realize just how much until a few weeks later, when you were out with the hunting party, and a cougar popped up so suddenly that not even the horses had smelled it. It was a young animal, probably a male looking for a territory of its own, and you were the closest to it. Your horse reared, you fell off, hit your elbow on a rock that just had to be precisely there. As if by some miracle, your head missed it, though. The wind got knocked out of you while your brain was screaming frantically at you to get up and get your gun, but before you could move, a shot rang out over the plain, and the horses neighed in fear.

Deion was by your side a moment later, brows knitted together in worry.

"You okay?"

Breath returning, you began to feel the impact of your fall. Left elbow was smarting, your ass was probably bruised, and your heart was beating a mile a minute from the scare.

"I'm fine," you managed to wheeze. He helped you up, carefully pulling you on your feet. He held your hand as he inspected your face for discomfort. You let him. It's comforting, that big, warm hand holding yours.

"You sure?" He wanted to be certain before he let you go. You nodded and forced a smile.

"I'll have a bruise, but I'm good." You've had worse, so much worse.

The warmth of Deion's hand lingers on your skin long after he releases your hand. As you get on the horse and ride back to Jackson, you find yourself thinking about how Joel never showed such concern for your well-being. And he doesn't do it now, either, when you return sooner than expected, moving like you're in pain - which you are.

"You need to be more careful," he tells you gruffly. You know it's his thing, he doesn't do softness, and yet... he does to Ellie. He speaks kindly to her, laughs with her, talks to her about things beyond mere survival. Tells her about his daughter. That's a new one, he never even mentioned his daughter to you.

It's heartwarming to see him thawed. The glimpses of who he used to be melt together with who he is now. You always suspected he was a great kind of guy before the world went to shit and he was forced to become a version of himself that he himself hated. And it hurts you more than the bruising that he cannot be this new person with you, only with Ellie. She deserves the best Joel, you know that, but don't you? After all you've been through with him?

You argue with him later that night. That's also new. While you may have disagreed with him occasionally before, you have never fought about it. Maybe it's the comfort of Jackson, the fact that a disagreement no longer means the risk of death. Maybe you have just had your fill.

"You could at least say something that doesn't make it sound like it's my fault!" you yell, unconcerned with your voice carrying over to the next room where Ellie is asleep. "You could ask me if I'm okay!"

"I can see that you're okay," Joel replies irritably. "I've seen you take worse hits."

"I am not okay, Joel!" The words are spat into the half-lit bedroom and the silence that follows is heavy from the impact. Joel crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks at you with unreadable eyes. It's not his usual glare, the one he gives you no matter the reason, because it's all he's capable of. It's just... closed. Like he has nothing more to give you.

You sleep in separate rooms that night. Ellie is unusually demure in the morning, looking from you to Joel and back to you, clearly bothered by your fight the night before. You make a mental note to talk to her after breakfast but before you can suggest an activity, Joel asks her if she wants to go out shooting.

Okay, let Joel deal with Ellie.

You go to your chores, which consist of animal care for most of the day. Deion joins you. He wants to know how you're feeling.

How are you feeling? Bruised and annoyed. Sad and confused. Touched and frustrated. Abandoned. Lonely.

"I'm good," you assure him with a light smile. "A little sore, but I've had worse."

All day he sees to it that you rest. He takes care of the tasks that will aggravate the aches of your beaten-up body. He reminds you to take a break when it's nearing lunch time.

He cares so clearly. Is this what it's like, to be with someone who cares?

Ellie is bubbly that night. She and Joel have had fun, she tells you, and you're happy for her. Ellie is a child who was never allowed to be one. She deserves carefree days. She deserves a father figure, a dad. A mom, too, but you have no idea how to be that. Especially when things are so askew with Joel. Whatever things are, were, should be. You and Joel used to be about teamwork, survival, partnership. But life in Jackson is different. What you two had, were, is not needed here. What else can you be?

Joel watches you take your clothes off when you get ready for bed. You turn your back to him, maybe out of misguided, sudden shyness, maybe to show him the bruise that has painted half your back. It was dark red yesterday, now it's turning purple.

His feet are heavy on the floorboards when he walks up to you. His rough fingers are surprisingly soft when tracing the outlines of the bruise. You close your eyes, lean into his touch, sigh softly when he kisses you neck. You lie down on the bed and let Joel take you. He's gentle, more so than usual, but every thrust pushes you against the bumpy mattress, hurting you. Neither one of you speak but when Joel has finished, he cradles your face in his hands and kisses your forehead so softly that it's barely a kiss at all. You turn your back to him when you go to sleep. Your muscles are sore from the coupling, and you quietly love that tenderness like one would a bittersweet heartache. The bruise on your lower back throbs like a young heart in love, and when you turn onto your side, away from Joel, you wish he would kiss the miscolored blossoms.

But he doesn't. He simply turns away from you, just as you turned away from him. With a canyon between your warm, spent bodies, you both go to sleep.

Ellie accompanies you to your chores the next day. After a quiet hour of cleaning the stable, she eventually asks you if you're mad at her.

"No, Ellie, why would you think that?" you ask, immediately regretting your poor choice of words. She shrugs, leaning against a stall door, both hands gripping the handle of the pitchfork, the prongs scraping loudly against the floor.

"You've been weird since we got back. You and Joel have been fighting."

"That has nothing to do with you," you lie, hopefully convincingly. Ellie looks up at you, a hard glint in her eyes.

"I'm not stupid. You never fought before, not for as long as I've known you."

You stop your sweeping but don't know what to say.

"You barely talk to each other," she insists.

"It's complicated," you tell her feebly. "But it has nothing to do with you, Ellie, I promise."

"Then what is it?"

You shake your head. "I'm not going to talk about our relationship with you, Ellie. It's not your problem."

"It is my problem if my - " she stops herself, the word parents hanging in the air for a second, before she continues: " - if you two are going to, I don't know, get a divorce or some shit."

An amused scoff escapes you before you can stop yourself. "We're not married, Ellie."

"I know. But you're, like, together, right?"

"I don't know what we are," you blurt out, averting your eyes so you don't have to see her reaction at your confession. You hear the scraping of her shoe at the floor.

"Did you count on me not being here anymore?"

Her voice is small and sounds so different from its normal curious and teasing tone. A clump forms in your throat.

"Ellie..."

"I'm in the way."

You let go of the broom and focus instead on Ellie, standing in front of her and taking the pitchfork from her so that you can grasp her hands.

"You're not in the way," you tell her firmly. Ellie looks away, and you shake your head to stress your words. "Ellie, look at me."

She meets your steady gaze, and you see how conflicted she is. Poor girl. She is a child. You can barely remember what it was like to be that age and besides, it was another world ago, but you do remember that it was difficult and confusing for so many reasons.

"You are not in the way," you emphasize softly. "But this situation is new, for all of us. This place. This dynamic. We're not just surviving anymore, Ellie, we have a chance to live. And I... I've never had that chance with Joel before. So I'm struggling a little right now. But it has nothing to do with you, okay? You just... be you. You're so good for him, Ellie, you have saved him in more ways than one."

She purses her lips, and you see her throat muscles work as she swallows.

"Okay," she finally nods, quietly. You press a smile, try to look like this problem was resolved.

"Okay." You give her a quick hug before going back to your work. Ellie seems relieved but you can't stop thinking about how you pinned it all on your own back. You are struggling, you are having a hard time of this new way of life. As if Joel has nothing to do with it. As if his broad, once so safe, and reassuring back isn't now turned to you in cool detachment.

You try to bring the topic to him later that night, tell him that Ellie is noticing and worrying. It ends in a fight and this time it's Joel who sleeps on the uncomfortable couch. You lie awake, wondering what went wrong. Is it really you who changed? Are you being a selfish bitch, jealous of a 14-year-old girl? Do you really want life to go on as it did before, in the Boston QZ, fighting for your life with Joel by your side?

Why is settling down so hard?

Nothing changes in the coming weeks. Talking to Joel is like milking a stone. Every now and then the two of you fight, as quietly as you can when Ellie has gone to bed. You still think he should tell her. He refuses to, and you can see the fear in his eyes. Ellie will be furious with him; you both know it. The longer he keeps her in the dark, the worse it's going to be. You find yourself wishing that you'll be far away when the day comes.

One early spring day you ride out with Deion to check on the traps. You've spent most of your days with him these past few weeks. He appreciates you, sees you, wants to hear your opinion. He takes you to the movies. He asks you about your past. He shows interest where Joel barely even wants you at night anymore.

The snow has started to melt in the sunshine, and you find a sun-kissed clearing where the ground is yellow with glacier lilies. The air is warm, and you can smell the changing of the season. You dismount and crouch among the delicate yellow flowers, hover your hands over them, smile in childlike delight when you see bees buzzing from flower to flower. You can't remember the last time you saw bees.

In that clearing, you ask Deion to kiss you, and he does, almost immediately. Not until the kiss is over does he express regret.

"You're with Joel."

"No, I'm not."

He smiles, and kisses you again, and you remember those first pre-teen infatuations: the warmth, the excitement, the heart-stopping angst about whether or not the subject of your passions felt the same. You remember all that but only feel it radiate from Deion. The feelings are unrequited.

That night you collect your few belongings into your backpack and leave the house. You hug Ellie and ask her to forgive you. You say nothing to Joel, and he says nothing to you.

You do not go to Deion, but instead to the boarding house where new arrivals are placed while awaiting homes of their own. Deion is kind, and he showed you what it would be like to be with a person who genuinely cares for you, but you don't want to rebuild your shattered life around a man.

A week later you mount a horse and leave Jackson. You have no plan, no light to look for, but you can finally breathe freely. Heading west, you ride at a slow pace all day, enjoying yourself more than maybe is appropriate. Your saddle-sore backside in the evening doesn't put a damper on your joy when you sit by your small fire with a cup of herbal tea. This is the start of something new, maybe disastrous, but definitely different.

The dark woods around you don't scare you, neither does being alone. You realize now just how alone - lonely - you've been these past couple of months, smack in the middle of the warm and well-organized community that Jackson is. Its friendly inhabitants weren't enough: you only wanted kindness from one single person. To be alone out here, by choice, feels a lot better than the time spent in Jackson.

When you prepare to leave the campsite the next morning, a horse emerges between the trees. Instinctively, you reach for your gun before your brain has processed the face of the rider.

It's Joel. Your mouth falls open and your legs feel weak.

"What are you doing here?" you manage when he dismounts. His hunched shoulders tell you clearly that he's uncomfortable and also stalling as he, very meticulously, ties the reins to a nearby tree. You wait impatiently for him to acknowledge you. When he finally does, his nut-brown eyes are clear in the first rays of the sun.

"I'm here to ask you if you would consider returning."

You have to bite your tongue in order not to laugh out loud. Your hard stare tells him everything, and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

"I'm going to tell Ellie about what happened at the hospital."

You raise an eyebrow. "Why are you here telling me that?"

"Because when I do, she's going to hate me, and I can't stand losing both of you."

"It's a little too late for that, Joel."

He nods, wets his lips. Looks away and draws a wet breath. Rests his hands on his hips, purses his lips. You realize he's fighting against unwanted yet inevitable tears.

Joel crying. That's a new one.

Moments pass, minutes, maybe hours, days, you have no idea, but you keep staring at Joel as he stubbornly looks to the forest, as if there was an answer or saving grace to be had between the trees. You are relentless in the midst of the rising sun, the singing birds, the soft shush of the wind through the budding treetops. He has to make the first move, show something, say something. Offer an explanation to why he stopped listening. Where did the apathy in his eyes come from? Why did he suddenly decide to show no concern for you?

He brings his hand to his eyes, rubs them quickly with forefinger and thumb. He then turns back to you.

"Ellie misses you."

You stand your ground, implacable as you wait for him to continue. Finally, he confesses:

"I miss you. The minute you left I started missing you."

"Then why did you let me leave?" you ask flatly.

"I wasn't going to stop you if that's what you wanted."

You refuse to engage, even though you want to scream at him: Do you think I wanted to leave?

"Was it Deion?"

"What?" Your eyebrows meet in a surprised frown. "What about Deion?"

"You spent so much time with him. Did you... was there anything between you?"

Unable to play it cool anymore, you take a step closer.

"How fucking dare you? You have no right!" Your horse and Joel's shift their weight, ears twitching nervously.

He's a little taken back with your raised voice, but he doesn't match it.

"Sorry," he mutters instead, and now it's your turn to drop your jaw. For a moment, both of you just stand there, looking at each other, trying to find some common ground to share so that things can be resolved.

It's Joel who finally finds that little patch of soil to sow the seeds of reconciliation.

"You remember how I tried to make Tommy take Ellie to the Fireflies?" he asks, and you nod mutely. Of course you remember. The tension in the house had been so thick you could have cut it with a knife.

"But I took her. And everything that happened after that... happened. I have to live with the consequences. I just had to keep her."

He shakes his head, something desperate filling his features. "If I get to keep her, I can't keep you."

"What do you mean?" you ask quietly, not following. The long look he gives you is anguished, but he stays quiet, as if he has said too much. Your brain is working at full capacity until it has connected the dots.

"Is this some kind of 'can't have too much good shit in my life' bullshit?" you ask hoarsely, almost afraid of the answer. "Because that is just... Joel, you are an idiot."

You're shaking by now, and Joel bristles a little.

"Look, Ellie has nobody else. She's stuck with me, for better or for worse. She's a kid. But you are not. You can have someone better."

"What if I don't want anyone better, what if I happen to love a complete fucking idiot who doesn't deserve me but is stuck with me because I chose it myself!?" you scream, tears filling your eyes and escaping down your cheeks. Joel winces, as if you just slapped him, but when he sees your tears, he closes the gap between the two of you with a few long strides. The next thing you know, you're crushed against his broad chest, smelling his sweat and slightly woodsy scent with leather and horse and melting snow. He holds you so tightly it's almost constricting your breathing, but you don't fight back. You've fought back for long enough.

"Darlin'," he murmurs throatily. "Darlin'. You love me?"

"I did," you sob. "But I don't know if I still do."

He's quiet, his hand moving in slow, comforting caresses over your back. Something is broken in you and the splinters are pressing against your internal organs, making breathing near impossible. Your face against Joel's chest, you think you can sense something break in him as well.

"You're right," he finally whispers. "I am an idiot and an asshole."

Your only response is more tears because now he gets it, now the milk is flowing from that goddamn stone, and it just might be too late. You don't know if you can trust him to handle your broken pieces right, or if there is a second chance for him in you.

There is no telling how long you stand like that, entwined in a sad, desperate embrace. The sun's rays start to feel warm even when you're cold inside. When your tears finally dry up, you shift in Joel's arms, and he releases you. You can't look at him, can't let him see you like this, but he gently places his finger under your chin, and raises your face to his.

"Am I too late?" he asks. His eyes are red and there are wet trails on his cheeks. You swallow hard, try to navigate between your desires and needs.

"What would change?" you finally ask. He places his warm, slightly sweaty palm against your cheek and brushes his thumb just under your eye, catching a lingering tear.

"I would love you."

He has never said that word to you before, and you want to ask for a detailed description of what it entails. How will he love you? Will he listen, help, support, share?

If Ellie decides to hate him, will he hate you in return? Will Ellie?

On the other side is a vast wilderness of no coordinates, the unknown with all its dangers. What are your chances of survival, of finding decent people? Jackson is full of decent people, and now also Joel and Ellie. Joel, who hurt you. Ellie, who is torn between the two of you.

He waits for your answer, and you find that you don't have a definite one to give him. But you know what direction to take.

"We'll talk about it on the ride back."

If that direction is a way forward or a way back, you don't know. You just feel that it would be wrong not to try.

#the last of us fanfic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #my fic

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painting-warhammer · 2 months

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Solitaire in the style of Vriska Serket (Homestuck)

Just in time for 4/13! Commentary under cut.

The Lessons Learned

#1: Learn As Much As You Can Before Letting Your Mini Anywhere Near A Brush

As first figures go, this was honestly not as bad as it could have been, but I am an outlier. (and the second figure would be much worse.) Since the proverbial canvas was so expensive, it was a lot of "measure twice, cut once."

youtube

This was the main thing I used, and save for the face looking like chewed-up bubblegum, it came out relatively okay for a first try. Overall, this guy's a legend and this would be far from the only video of his I would reference.

#2: It's Okay To Be Inspired

What really hooked me on Warhammer in general is that you can paint things in your style. This is appealing at first, but if you're not an artist, you're going to be exposed quickly in the worst way possible, and that's by the color wheel theory. If you don't understand contrast and coomplements, all the technique in the world won't save your figure from looking like an eyesore.

This is where "established" characters that you are mimicking end up being your saving grace. If canon material is your bag, that works: You certainly won't lack as far as exact guides then! But in my opinion, you learn a bit more by improvising and trying to make something similar to an established character. Chances are they're popular because they have an appealing color scheme. As it happens, Vriska's various blue motifs really complement her orange, which is something I never realized way back when.

Also, reinterpretation was inevitable. I had initially considered freehanding the sun symbol on her lapel, but when everything was smaller than my pinkie, I just settled for making her jewels yellow. The real masterstroke was taking the Harlequin's Kiss weapon and recoloring it as the Warhammer (oh hey) of Vrillyhoo.

I just took the general colors and used Spiritstone Red on the rounded bits, and made something analogous to it. It's still the neatest part, imo.

#3: The Best Way To Start

For every color, I had a swatch. I had one base color, which I then doused in a shade, and then added one layer paint as the main color and one shade lighter for highlights.

#4: How To Make A Shiny Figure

There's a special paint called Ardcoat that puts a glossy texture on, but something that's a little more muted that gives a shine is... shade paint! I didn't shake the paint pot enough and created a fun glossy texture that you can see on her knee. (I learned how I accidentally did this by asking at my local Warhammer shop, lol)

#5: Don't Be Afraid To Make Mistakes

I'm sure there's more than just this wrong with this figure, but the Solitaire is supposed to be leaping off that little rock there. There were glyphs where I was able to put in a glowing line of Baharroth Blue that was watery enough that it filled in the little gaps on its own. It looked fantastic once...

Unfortunately, I overfilled my brush and it sloughed over into the other creases and ruined the whole effect. I also slopped Mordant Earth onto the stones and made it too ugly.

But that's just it. As much prep work as I was going in with, there was always going to be a mistake, and on a personal psychic level it feels bad when you make it. It ruins a whole day of painting lol. And you can't really stop those emotions, but you should at least try.

#6: You're Not Married To Your Army

It's inevitable that getting your first figure leads you to think about a whole army of them, but I had this distaste in my mouth when I thought about making more than one Vriska. For one, I didn't like any of the other Harlequins or Aeldari, or more importantly, I couldn't think of fun color schemes for them. The thought came to mind to make the ships similar to the Batterwitch/Condesce, but they were too similar color-wise (and even in the symbology!) where it just felt redundant. I get a special kick out of making something different from the boxart, because that's the point in my opinion.

I coped for a while: Green stuff or 3D print horns for the other figures to make them trolls? Suck it up and just use Vriska's color scheme for the others? In the end, I just gave up and called this a practice run. This is still my favorite figure. I'm just happy the first one turned out so nicely, relatively speaking, so I don't really have a lump of paint surrounding what was once a figure like a lot of first-time painters.

But no worries. Because I'd definitely fuck up the next one. 😅 That's for a new post.

#Homestuck #Vriska Serket #painting warhammer #Games Workshop #Warhammer #Warhammer 40K #WarhammerCommunity #Warhammer 40000 #wh 40k #WH40K #Warhammer40K #WarhammerPainting #Miniature Painting #Painting miniatures #Mini Painting #Aeldari #craftworld eldar #harlequins

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quasi-normalcy · 1 year

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For all that people complained about how bleak Star Trek: Picard was when it came out, I would say that its depiction of the Federation was just a culmination of all of the flaws that it was depicted as having on Deep Space Nine (and, to a lesser extent, Voyager and even TNG): Earth-centrism, disregard for the rights of artificial persons, and a willingness to regard entire non-Federation species as disposable if their survival is deemed a threat to the Federation (or even if saving them contradicts an abstract philosophical point). It’s a society that has clearly lost its way, and its annoying (at least to me) that the writers couldn’t have instead imagined the Federation getting its shit together, but the thing is: everything that’s wrong with it emerges organically from the Federation we’ve seen, and, most critically, it is problematised. Our heroes stand in opposition to this corruption. Picard, Rios, and Raffi all left or were cashiered out of service over various aspects of Starfleet’s authoritarian turn; Elnor is a survivor of the Federation’s neglect; Seven and Soji are both members of oppressed minorities and Jurati had her academic career derailed, all because of fear and reactionary opposition to cybernetics. And yes, it’s bleak, but it’s also fundamentally hopeful: they are standing up for what’s right, even in the face of bigotry and oppression, and what could possibly be more Star Trek than that? You can argue about whether it was successful or particularly well-executed, but its heart was very much in the right place.

And that’s why, for all that I’m enjoying Season 3--for all that I love seeing the TNG crew together again and paying-off character arcs that I’ve been watching play out over the course of my entire lifetime--it gnaws at me. Because the thing is: the Federation hasn’t gotten any better. The genocidal criminal conspiracy from Deep Space Nine is now considered “a critical division of Starfleet Intelligence.” This “critical” bunch of war criminals keeps a sentient AI comatose to guard its warehouse, and nobody even comments on how fucked-up that is. The captain of the Titan constantly denigrates his ex-Borg first officer and orders her to deadname herself, but it’s okay because he’s *traumatised* and kind of funny in his assholishness. You get to have a heartbreaking moment with Picard saying “I didn’t know...” when he hears the extent of Section 31′s war crimes, but then he and Beverly, in the face of 35 years of consistent characterisation, immediately compound the war crime by resolving to execute Vadic. No, the Federation hasn’t gotten any better; the heroes have just gotten worse.

I love the TNG crew. I love seeing Picard and Ro finally have it out with one another; I love having a lifetime spent shipping Jean-Luc and Beverly pay off; I love that we finally get to see just how deeply Data’s death affected Geordi, and that we finally get to see Data’s relationship with Lore and his “becoming more human” arc pay off in a way that’s so seamless that it honestly feels kind of obvious in retrospect. But at a deep, philosophical level, I would rather see an angsty story about heroes opposing corruption than a happy story about heroes going along with it.

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elexuscal · 1 year

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Network Effect, but it happens immediately on the tail end of Exit Strategy

this is one of the funniest fandom AUs out there, imo. (also one of the saddest! but also like. in a fun way)

Mensah, Pin-Lee, Gurathin, and Ratthi are just SO glad to be home soon

they're also really glad that SecUnit seems to have regained the ability to talk

even if like, only 40% of what it says seems to logically follow whatever conversation they were having

like that sounds like a dig but they seriously have spent the last 2 weeks thinking its brain might have been totally fried

so they get in a shuttle to go back to the station when

mysterious ship appears out of nowhere?

YOINKS them

murderbot is like 'hey that's my friend wtf ART'

"what do you mean," its humans ask

it Does Not Clarify

maybe just says like a random stream of code, aloud. completely impossible to parse

i'd like to remind everyone that Dr. Ayda Mensah has some Severe Kidnapping Trauma that has not managed to start unpacking at all at this point. and now she's been kidnapped. again.

at least her friends are along for the ride this time???

(she feels awful for being this relieved)

ship is totally empty when they get on board

except for creepy grey people

SecUnit started being able to walk around its MedBay like 47 hours ago

it was not pretty. it fell on its face like. 3 separate times.

now it has to kill a bunch of targets

it still manages it but not with anywhere NEAR its usual level of grace

this just makes it more angry

it does not help that it keeps forgetting where it's in its own timeline

keeps pinging ART. keeps being surprised when it doesn't answer. all over again.

the humans are the ones doing the majority of the Smart Detective Work and making theories on What's Happening Here and interrogating Ras and Eletra

Ras and Eletra who, by the way, are like 'hey your SecUnit is seriously glitching you should probably put it down.'

'no'

'okay we can at least turn it off and shove it in one of the mortuary tubes-'

"NO"

"yeesh okay we're just giving a suggestion" [Eletra and Ras exchange a 'get a load of these crazy freeholders' look behind their backs]

MB is currently have a conversation, aloud, to a crumpled drone

good news: being in a familiar environment is helping MB's memory retrieval

bad news: those memories are letting MB know something Is Very Very wrong

1-3 emotional breakdowns happen during this point. One of them is definitely Murderbot's

it's even worse than in canon Network Effect

"My friend is DEAD"

they haven't found ANY dead bodies at this point, though, so...

PresAux starts realising maybe the dead friend is... an AI?

Ras's brain gets fried around this point. Then Ratthi, as the closest thing the team has to a doctor, has to cut Eletra's chip out of her neck. so he probably gets one of those emotional breakdowns.

'wtf how did we get out of a wormhole so fast??'

In this time-line, Murderbot is in no state to fight AND do complex coding attacks at the same time

(it's really in no state to be doing even one of these by the way but oh well)

that mean Pin-Lee and Gurathin are absolutely doing the majority of fighting off TargetControlSys

and then MB gets that delayed datapackage from ART

"For Eden? what the fuck does that mean?"

is it a religious message? a code?

"hey isn't there a character named that in Sanctuary Moon?" asks Ratthi

MB might be in a pitched firefight at the time but that is no reason for it to not ramble about its blorbos and how cool Eden is

Mensah starts getting an idea

They find ART's secret coding bundle

they try putting in 'Eden'. doesn't work.

okay that was too obvious. try 'Sanctuary Moon'.

nope

'SecUnit'? no

'Murderbot'? long shot but... no

since they have a copy of MB's purchase contract, they have its feed address documented. it's a real long shot, but they are desperate at this point. they try it

Re-Load in Progress. Please stand-bye.

i honestly have NO idea what MB says when ART comes online this time

maybe something super sweet and sappy. or maybe it's even less coherent than in canon

either way, the humans are like 'Holy Shit' upon realising who/what Murderbot's friend ART really is

#murderbot diaries #murderbot #network effect

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gizkasparadise · 5 months

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2023 wrapped: cdrama edition!

taking a page from @dangermousie and doing an overview of all the cdramas i watched this year (i'll do one for kdramas later)! listed in order of least favorite to most favorite. favorite =/= objectively best/most well-made. just the ones i had the most fun watching.

15 have a crush on you. oh dear lord. this drama should be a case study for what happens when a bad drama has charismatic actors and they keep you trapped hostage. i watched this whole damn thing hating every minute of it on behalf of the poor female lead who definitely deserved better. the ending? absolutely batshit, and not in a fun way. one of the weirdest, worst endings ive seen since with you

14 back from the brink. too kitschy for me, i didn't last long on this one (i think 2 eps lol).

13 gone with the rain. i wanted to like this one because i love sean sun and troll general is exactly what i want out of life. but i didn't like the weird daydream asides, constant animal noise sound effects, and i found everyone kind of off-putting in a non-watchable way, so i peaced out really quick--ep 4ish

12 here we meet again. i love janice wu. i continue to try out her dramas hoping for something to grab me again. this one was pretty boring/too focused on the work element and not the rest of it.

11 exclusive fairytale. i have a secret weakness for youth-to-working-life dramas, so tried this one out. flat, not a lot of chemistry, and very color-by-numbers. the show was clearly made to vehicle jun, and that's okay, but not my thing

10 the starry love. i wanted to like this one because the side characters were fun and i loved the male lead/prince of heaven and all his awkward "please leave by 9" energy. but it bored me overall and unlike most folks i had no interest in the demon secondary ship. i dropped around ep 10

9 my journey to you. it kills me to rank this one so low because it was my most anticipated cdrama this year, but i just couldn't get into it. the pacing was too slow for me, and i couldn't stand how everyone talked to each other (long. pauses. and then. staring. and then. whispers. always the. whispers). i dropped this around midway

8 the love you give me. the chemistry between the leads was cute and it was a decent modern romance. started losing me around the midpoint when the paternity reveal hit and the ML got way into boundary crossing because of it

7 circle of love. objectively not a good drama. in fact, a toxic and batshit drama that has probably made me a worse person for watching it. but gd did my messy ass enjoy the trainwreck.

6 road home. you really got to be in the mood for this one, but it's a nice, understated and slow melo romance. but def not a bingeable show since it takes its time with everything

5 wonderland of love. another drama that i dont think is objectively great, but two competent schemers/martial artists trying to one-up each other is like ship catnip for me and this was a show that lived or died by its ship. surprisingly tame for the screenwriter, and had a happy ending! popcorn watch.

4 till the end of the moon. me and this drama were in a bad romance, which i suppose is thematically appropriate. i hated parts of it, i was super invested in others. the post-dream human arc was giving wuthering heights tragic obsession incredibleness. even with its flaws, i think most of cdramaland is in agreement that lyx/tantai jin stole the ML competition this year. great gowns, beautiful gowns

3 story of kunning palace. i adored the characters in this drama! even when the plot was losing my interest, everyone was cast so well and had so much charisma that i stayed pretty hooked from ep 10ish on. absolutely loved the mean high school theatre director wreck that was xie wei, as well as the other (imo) true love interest of the show, princess leyang. the desperate speech about being like iron is gonna live rent-free in my head

& then 1&2 are way ahead of the others for me this year/a very close race between them!

2 a journey to love. i love this drama so much!!! i have not skipped or speed watched a single scene which for me is a huge feat! great character work across the board -- even the side characters have a lot of nuance and interesting dynamics between them. beautiful fight scenes. great ost. one of the best, most balanced main couples ive seen in a show. it's gonna break my heart in a few eps when it ends, but i'll be happy about it

1 lost you forever (s1). this drama came out of NOWHERE and the vicegrip it had on me while it was airing!!! my favorite FL this year (although a journey to love's ruyi is a close second), and just a ton of fun while also being quietly devastating in parts. i loved how lived in and tired the FL felt, enjoyed the various flavors of mess from her love interests, and enjoyed how extra it could go while still giving us really grounded and complicated characters. this drama gets extra points for converting me on several actors i did not think that highly of before the show.

overall, despite how many i dropped (lol writing it out made me realize i dropped so, so many), cdramas delivered for me this year! my top two are on my short list for favorite dramas, period. everyone go watch a journey to love and lost you forever if you havent yet!!!

AWARDS

Favorite ship: definitely goes to ruyi and yuanzhou from a journey to love. it's just nice to see a couple that mutually supports each other's murders

Favorite FL: xiaoyao from lost you forever with ruyi from journey to love as a very close runner-up. i am here for this year's theme of competent, jaded ladies trying to reclaim their lives

Favorite ML: objectively, tantai jin from till the end of the moon should win this, but story of kunning palace's xie wei was just so entertainingly grumpy, petty, and unhinged which is a winning combo for me.

Favorite 2FL: princess yang ying from a journey to love. she's doing amazing and im proud of her!!

Favorite 2ML: technically third male lead, but xiang liu from lost you forever was my favorite to watch and had the best tuxedo mask exits

Best Cast: a journey to love, i literally adore all of them, even the ones i hate

Best Blood Cough: tantai jin, you beautiful bastard who needs a bib

#cdrama #gizka 2023 wrapped

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gingerlurk · 3 months

Text

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 20: The Confessional II

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Din has left it all too late as his fears are realised.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), post season 3, Mo blood, injured Reader, Hurt/Comfort (if I have ever written a self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic in my life, it’s this chapter), lots of feelings.

A/N: We're nearly there, omg. Every single one of you who's joined me on this journey and let me know you're enjoying this story, you're SO wonderful. Thanks for reading!

Din rips at your flight harness, nearly pulling it from the seat in the effort to get you up. He shouts your name but you’re limp and silent, lifeless. Grogu watches with wide horrified eyes as Din hauls you, limbs dangling, into his arms.

He yells to R5 to keep the ship on an even keel.

‘Grogu. With me. We need. Lay her down.’ He grunts out the words in stuttered bursts of breath, moving to the door.

‘Pah!’ Still in his pod, the baby unbuckles to follow the hulking shape of Din carrying you through the cockpit, dropping into the hold, across to the cabin. He floats into the cabin behind the frantic Mandalorian and your unconscious form, hovering nervously and murmuring as his father lays you down before turning to him.

Din lifts Grogu from the pod.

He settles the child next to you, by your hip so his little hands are just in reach of the wound, and seats himself on your other side – framing you between the two of them. He takes out a small knife and slices away your leather tunic to expose the short metal object that Grogu spotted when you had leaned back in your cockpit chair. It is pulsing with a low hum and the skin around the foreign object is riddled with gooseflesh. Sweat pools across the plains of your abdomen and in the hollow of your neck. You shudder.

‘Grogu,’ Din hovers above you both. He takes one, steadying breath. ‘I need you to be strong for her now.’

He points to the small hilt sticking from your middle. Grogu murmurs, gazing between it and Din with unease.

‘This is a phase blade,’ he explains. ‘It is an ultrafine weapon that a war trooper must have slipped in when she was fighting. She would have barely noticed it going in, but now it is buried deep and is making her bleed inside her body. Do you understand what I mean by that, Grogu?’

‘Ebbe?’

‘It’s hurting her inside her body where we can’t see. And if I start to pull it from her, it will activate an energy field that is going to make it worse, more bleeding, more damage inside of her.’

His voice cracks for a moment. He blinks back tears from behind his helmet, seeing the charts on his vision array showing your staccato heart rate and plunging BP blur and distort. He shakes his head and focuses on the child’s face.

‘It’s designed that way, d’you understand?’ he goes on. ‘They use it to kill even after a battle ends. It’s impossible to remove without killing her.’

Grogu gives a little wail of despair, leaning into your limp form.

‘But y’can save her, buddy.’

‘Eeeh?’ Din’s son gives him a disbelieving look. He really doesn’t know - how powerful he is?

‘Remember Greef Karga?’ he says, leaning closer to the tiny child. ‘Remember the creature’s attack on Navarro? You saved him. You can save her.’

From where you lay, you convulse slightly and thick blood oozes across your hip and onto the bed. Your chest rises in shallow, hyperventilating breaths. His voice gets urgent.

‘You’re stronger now than you were then, so much stronger. You can do this. As I draw out the blade… heal her as it goes. Make the bleeding and the hurt stop. Can you do that?’

The baby’s ears twitch as he looks up to where your head lays lolled on its side. He looks terrified.

‘Please, kid,’ the desperation in Din’s voice pulls Grogu’s eyes back to him. ‘Please, you have to do this, I need h—’

Fuck, take a breath, Fuck.

‘I need you to try your best.’

Grogu seems to steel himself. He reaches out and presses both hands to your entry wound. Din takes the petite hilt of the blade in hand and braces a forearm against your ribcage. He watches as the child closes both gigantic eyes and focuses, tilting his head progressively up and up like he’s summoning the universe to him. Din observes his breathing pick up and his little forehead scrunch tight.

‘Ehhhhh,’ Grogu looks pained, straining. His little mouth opens and closes a few times before settling into a hard frown. Then, without opening his eyes, he gives one tiny resolute nod.

Din takes a long breath in and counts… three, two…

He pulls.

‘Hhhhrrrrrngh!’ You wail and arch off the mattress, pushing into Din’s forearm with a surprising force. He leans forward to put more weight on you and grips the blade tighter. It’s barely moved a millimetre but you and Grogu are both shaking violently.

Just keep going. Stay steady.

Another pull and hot crimson spurts from the wound, splashing across the view of his visor. You jerk as if struck, arching again. His grip slips off the hilt. Panic rises. He feels like he might black out. Flushing hot and cold, the air in his lungs turning icy and his blood setting to boil.

Furious regret tears at him. Worlds, curse him. He’s wasted so much time. Holding onto the hurt, onto the shame, and the anger. Why? Why couldn’t he have let go sooner. Why couldn’t he have just talked to you. If he’d just tried. Just understood you better.

Fucking focus.

Retaking the handle, he channels everything down to his hand and the blade. It’s not you he’s killing right now; it’s just his hand and this blade. That’s all it is. His hand, this blade, he chants it over and over as more of the quivering weapon comes free.

His hand, this blade. His hand, this blade. His hand, this cursed, evil, fucking, going to kill his--

The weapon draws out, deactivating the second it breaks contact with flesh. Din hurls it into a med tin and shakes his hand, as if to get the menace off him. He looks back to you, reads your still sporadic vitals. Your lips are white and you’re puffing hard through clenched teeth. Your wound is still leaking blood. Too much blood.

He’s on the verge of weeping. But he concentrates instead on Grogu, whose claws are sunk deep into your skin as he continues shaking and grunting. The child is giving everything he has.

Din Djarin looks between the two of you. His whole fucking world. He’s losing a part of it. Maybe for good this time. He’s been so foolish.

Fresh tears come. His vision shifts out of focus and, instead of your two quivering bodies, he sees the spray of blood across his visor. Your blood. A wretched reminder of how tortured he’s been since you returned. Empty while you were gone, he’s been on fire from the moment you looked at him as you stood at that damned forge saying you’d fight for them. Each time he’d watched you from afar, desperate to go to you but drilled to the spot, it burned. His desire to see you, to actually see you.

It’s time. It might be too damn late, but it’s time.

He reaches and pulls his helmet up, off. Deposits it over you onto the bed. He sits back and puts a hand to Grogu’s back and the other to your uninjured side, drawing the two of you together, holding you as close as he is able.

Whatever happens, he needs to hold you both close, for as long as he can.

‘Come on, Grogu,’ Din leans in. ‘You can do this, you can. You’re so strong, stronger than any—’

Grogu gives a long pained sigh of effort and flops forward, head resting next to the spot where – thank all the worlds – your wound has closed over into a puckered, angry looking scar. Your breathing is evening out and you slowly come to stillness.

Even as the child lays there wheezing, the wound continues to lighten and shrink, the connection between you and he potent and enduring.

Din becomes aware of his own hammering heart, his staggered breathing. Sighing out every ounce of fear and panic that had consumed him these past few minutes, he looks at you.

He gives himself a moment to take you in. Traces the side profile of your face where your head has turned away. Relishes in the way your eyelashes flutter, and your lower lip quivers a little. The way you’re breathing more normally with each passing moment.

He gives himself a moment to think about the colour of your eyes, wonders if his visor’s vision array has ever truly conveyed their beauty.

Then he gives his son a reassuring pat.

Grogu’s eyes slip open and he looks at his father in wonder. Din smiles.

It’s so much pain.

Great crumbling walls of it. Savage spikes impaling your very core. You fall back away from it, toward some dense murky nothingness. That’s what you’re aiming for – just for the relief – when something else reaches down and wraps around you. A coil of earnest embrace. A branch of tender love. It takes hold and gives a single strong entreaty. Come back. As it strengthens its hold, the excruciation eases. The agony releases.

And so you turn back.

Push through a dense fog, swim back to consciousness. It feels endless. White haze claws at you, but the warm light waits not far away. You drag yourself to it. It takes effort. So much effort. You have to call on the weary presence within you to rise up, haul on it like a rope out of there. Reaching, grasping, breaking the surface tension with a long, strained inhale.

The first thing you sense is Din’s voice.

‘Sshh, cyar’ika,’ he’s whispering. ‘That’s it, take it slow. There’s no hurry.’

You hear yourself groan then. Feel filtered cabin air settle on your skin. Smell earthy sweat and the tang of blood, and under those something achingly known. More out of curiosity than any desire to expose them to light, you blink one eye open a little, then the other. And then you feel confusion. Because through blurred eyesight, what you see makes no sense. With your head rolled to the side, you’re looking at the unoccupied half of the bed. Except it’s not totally unoccupied.

Maybe you haven’t woken up, after all.

Din’s helmet rests on the blankets. Empty and cold, no life behind the visor.

You sense him sitting on your other side. Hear his steady inhales and exhales, clear and unmodulated. Feel the heat of his thigh pressed into your side.

‘Din?’ you say, voice croaky and weak, still staring at the lone helmet. You can’t bring yourself to move, to turn. You can only raise a shaky hand to press a finger to the cool metal. A flood of feeling at the contact you’ve ached for, you trace over it, follow the streak of dried blood spattered there. Draw a thumb down the high arch of its side. A caress you’ve longed for.

‘I’m here,’ he says.

‘You’re not…’ Still looking at the helmet. You notice his gloves and gauntlets also discarded on the bed. ‘You’re…’

‘It’s okay,’ he says, throaty and barely above a whisper. ‘You can look.’

‘Are you,’ you struggle to keep tears from blurring your sight even more. Blink hard to clear them, hiss in a breath. ‘Are you s- sure?’

The sensation of two fingers gently pressing to your cheek makes you gasp. If you weren’t already lying down, you’re sure you’d collapse. You screw your eyes shut again as, with a tender push, he tilts your head to turn to him.

He sighs, pulls his hand away. ‘Please,’ he rasps. ‘Let me see you.’

Come on, you tell yourself. This is all you’ve ever wanted.

So you focus where you think his hands will be, likely resting in his lap. You blink a little when you see them there – those strong, capable hands. Thick fingers, veins tracing over knuckles, over his wrists, and up to where his forearm disappears into a sleeve. You follow that up to one shoulder, dart from it across to the other. No pauldrons. Land in between. No cuirass.

In your peripheral vision, above the chest you’re staring hard at, you register dark hair framing indistinct features. Dark hair you already know to curl around his ears and fan over his forehead, from touching him blind and from that one scant glimpse before the battle. You’d been so eager then. So desperate. And now…

He murmurs your name. ‘Look at me, please.’

Tracing the line of his neck, the edge of his jaw, you sweep your eyes up to meet Din’s.

A plush lower lip purses just a little, as he releases a breath like he’d held it his whole life. You struggle to breathe at all, drinking in the glorious sight. Lungs burn as you slot each tiny detail into the image in your head. There’s so much to take in, but his eyes… My gods, his eyes.

Deep, and dark, and bottomless. They match his voice so perfectly, that velvety timbre you know so well, you’re amazed you hadn’t known their hue and tone all along.

He gazes back, absorbing you. Irises like onyx marbles roll over your face, opening you up and exposing you completely. Tears start to threaten you again just from the sheer overwhelming sensation of making eye contact with Din.

‘Mmm, weh,’ a gentle murmur pierces the spell, has you glancing down.

‘Baby, hey,’ you whisper to Grogu, who’s tucked into your hip squinting up at you. You prop yourself on an elbow. ‘Oh, you look so tired. Why aren’t you resting?’

‘He’s been waiting,’ Din says, drawing your eyes back to his, where you struggle not to get lost in their fathoms again. Gods, this is the face of the Gods. ‘To make sure you’re alright.’

You look back to the child, whose own huge eyes blink languidly. You can see the effort he’s making to keep them open. You remember then, what he did. Grogu reaching for you as you sunk into a murky oblivion. Giving you the life raft to let you drag your way back. Saving you.

‘Hey, kiddo,’ you reach over and let him take hold of a forefinger with his little claw. Enclose it with a thumb. ‘See? I’m okay now. I’m okay.’

‘Emm?’

‘Yeah, you did good. You can rest now. Thank you.’

Grogu gives a lazy nod of his head, exhaling and cooing to the two of you. He pushes himself up and moves toward his pod, tentative little steps and huffs of air until he’s seated comfortably among the blankets. Pawing at the controls, he drifts out of the cabin and you listen for the shift of his hatch, open and then close.

Moving the hand he’d grasped to rest on your stomach, you feel it. Raised skin, threaded and uneven. Fingers trace back and forth over the new scar.

‘What was that? What happened to me?’ you ask, gazing up at the man sitting beside you, at his soft mouth, his sharp nose, his knit-together brow – his gorgeous features.

A shadow crosses them as Din leans down and picks up a little metal tray. A tiny hilt with no blade rattles inside it. He lets you get a look at it before tossing it back on the floor like it’s tainted. You suppose it is.

‘Fuck,’ you huff an exhale, lean back. ‘Dicey.’

‘That would be putting it fucking mildly,’ he says, glaring at the offending weapon. How had you failed to notice a damned phase blade? When did it even happen? What would have happened to you if Din hadn’t— If he hadn’t been with you? You pull in a long breath of air.

‘How many times is it you’ve saved my life now?’ you ask.

Eyes so soft and deep lock onto yours. You’re not prepared. They’re so expressive, you can read every single ounce of feeling in them. Longing, and fear, and some deep sad pain that breaks you wide open right from your chest.

The swell of emotion rises so swift it chokes you and slurs your words. But you force them out. As fast as you’re able over the short shallow panting that starts ramping up a staccato beat.

‘I’m sorry,’ you gasp. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Gods. Din, I’m so- s- I—'

He’s leaning in, head shaking just a little.

‘I was scared,’ you push on, words bursting out over rising sobs. It’s been too much. It’s been too long. ‘I was just so fucking sc- scared. And confused. And like I was just lost? I’m sorry, fuh, ah, I’m so--’

‘Stop,’ he speaks over you. ‘Stop, please.’

But you can’t. You can’t stop. The dam you’ve been straining against dissolves into a torrent. Chest heaving and hands shaking, you scrunch your eyes shut and weep.

It’s when Din bends forward and takes your face in his hands, swipes a thumb over a tear-streaked cheek and whispers, ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ that you still. At the sound of your name, murmured and desperate, you open your eyes to see his own just inches away.

‘I understand,’ he says, looking right through you, brows pulled in and expression pleading. ‘I understand now.’

He holds you there for a long, agonising stretch. Faces so close your breaths merge, brush against the cooling moisture on your skin. It’s when your mouth parts just a little, and his gaze drops there for a second, that he seems to return to himself and sits back.

Bereft for a moment, caught off guard by how just a few moments of his touch has your body thrumming, you stay quiet. You lay still and watch him gather himself, readying his words. You know this posture, know what it looks like when he’s preparing to open up. The added details of his jaw working and forehead creasing in contemplation are not lost on you – in fact, they put your heart in your throat. Yet still, in this moment, you have no idea what he’s going to say.

Sure enough, his words take you out.

‘A while ago,’ he says. ‘Through a misstep in fate, I possessed a weapon that could have allowed me to rule Mandalore. As Bo-Katan does now.’

This out-of-nowhere revelation has you asking before you can think, ‘Why didn’t you? Why aren’t you?’

‘Well, among many other reasons,’ he makes a gesture like politics and such. With a head tilt you know well, you nearly die to learn it comes with a single eyebrow arched high in sardonic humour. You feel giddy, but keep still and listen. ‘It was… heavy,’ he continues, expression dropping to neutral again. ‘Too heavy. Being a part of my Covert is about belonging. But this was something different. I did not have the want to carry that weight. To be pulled down. Bound.’

The word pierces right through your chest. ‘Bound?’

It’s a tiny squeak, the way you say it. Bursting out of you as you see him in all new light. Familiar light. He moves a hand over you to touch your forearm, strokes there in comfort – a reflex that he doesn’t seem to make note of. It makes your skin sing.

‘Mmhm,’ he says, looking at you. ‘The thing you fear? I understand it. I should’ve understood it all along, but I was blinded by—’ He cuts himself off, swallows hard.

‘Anyway, I am sorry for that,’ he says, whispering your name again. ‘I am so, so sorry.’

You’re trying to find the words to say he has nothing to be sorry for. To tell him you’d carried remorse and guilt with you across most of the galaxy. That you’d do anything to go back to before that cursed day and talk to him. Tell him these things before it had all become too late. But he continues before you can.

‘And I’m sorry that I have been… since you got here, that I’ve…’

‘It’s okay,’ you say, when you see him struggling to keep going.

‘It’s not,’ he says. ‘It’s not okay, I was just- Shit, I was just so furious…’

‘I know,’ you murmur, ready to accept this and beg forgiveness. ‘I know you were angry with me, and, and I underst—’

‘I wasn’t angry with you,’ he interrupts.

‘But I- I hurt you so badly, I--’ you say, unable to believe him. Tears encroach again. ‘And- and I was here and you weren’t, and I didn’t know if you’d ever speak to me again, and I--'

‘I was hurting, that’s true,’ he says, warm hand continuing its motions on your arm. It hasn’t stopped for one second. ‘But so were you. And I wasn’t angry with you.’

‘What?’

He leans the elbow of the arm not caressing yours on a knee, shifts a little closer. Drawing a deep breath to speak, he gives you another wounded look. An intense wave of gooseflesh ripples over you.

‘You being here,’ he says. ‘I couldn’t stand it.’

You must look fit to break because he rushes on.

‘You being here, in danger. From the moment you stood in front of everyone and said you’d fight, I’ve been,’ he drags a hand through mussed curls, searches for words, ‘drowning, in fury and fear. When you told us your plan for the walker… Fuck-- I was livid.’

Paying attention to the tender muscles in your abdomen, you nudge yourself upright. Shuffle a little until you’re sitting up facing him, drawn in by what he’s saying.

‘That’s what you were angry about?’ you ask. ‘That I came back to fight?’

He shakes his head. ‘I was angry that you were risking your life. That you wanted to fight our battles. That they were letting you. After what I did? How I let you go?’

Din stops there for a moment, works his jaw some more and swallows like he’s trying to not choke. Grips your arm hard. He looks tortured.

‘I should never have let it get to that moment by the forge, that day you left,’ he whispers, voice tight and just under control. ‘But I wasn’t, wasn’t paying attention. I was so afraid… The idea of you in a war that wasn’t yours to fight… All I could think about was how I could protect you. If I even could.’

His eyes are glossy as they stare over your shoulder. Your fingers itch to touch him. ‘And when you did run… I thought at least, at least you’d be safer that way.’

Din takes a sharp hiss through clenched teeth.

‘But I was a fool,’ he says. ‘To not realise that whether you had run that day or not, you still would have ended up here, because of your bravery, and loyalty. Because of me. And I couldn’t stop it-- I couldn’t-- Fuck.' He lets go of you to drop his head into both hands. ‘And you almost just fucking died, right here-- All my fears were—'

This time you’re the one reaching out, clutching at arms and wrists and trying to shush and still him. You lift his head and you’re inches apart again. You mutter at him to look at you, look right here, I’m okay … Just look. I’m here.

He sighs hard and stares. Tears shining in the corners of his eyes, they shift back and forth across your face. Your fingers tingle where they dig into his hair. Heart thunders. A white hot current crackles through your arms and across your chest, sends sparks up the back of your neck.

‘I’m here,’ you say again, voice breaking only a little.

‘You’re here,’ he whispers back. As he calms, clenched jaw relaxing, he leans into one of your palms. Just a little, without breaking eye contact. Although you do see, for the barest second, a soft pink tongue dart out to swipe his lower lip.

But he doesn’t move, just keeps looking at you – waiting for you to choose what to do next.

It’s not that you don’t want to keep holding him like this, to pull him closer, wrap yourself around him entirely. Not let go. It’s not that you wouldn’t give anything in the galaxy to simply press your forehead to his, nudge his nose with yours, press your mouth to—

It’s just that you’re on a threshold you’re not yet ready to step over. There’s things you want to say first. Answers you still need. Somehow, doubt there still about whether he wants the same thing.

So you pull back. Not much. Just enough to bring his features into focus again. Drop your hands to rest between you. He seems to will himself to relax and settle back as well, understanding the air between you is a volatile thing, and you should move forward carefully.

Into the silence, picking at the covers on the bed, you do let a little insecurity out. Just let yourself say it.

‘Well, here for as long as I’m allowed to be anyway,’ you mumble, hoping it conveys the question you’re too afraid to ask. Can I stay?

Din doesn’t say anything at first, but his eyes roam over you and you have to fight not to squirm under his gaze. Not react to the heat it’s building within you.

He moves a hand to you again and that heat flares. But rather than touching you, he lands it on the armour guard still clipped to your shoulder. A piece of the set the Armourer had had made for you.

‘You have come to be more accepted here than you realise,’ he says. You sense his thumb tracing back and forth over a specific spot, a tender caress. Tilting your head to the side to try to see, you can just make out a scorched tear where an enemy weapon must have grazed over the leather – and the dark grey steel underneath it.

‘What?’ You move your hand across as Din fluidly unclasps the piece so you can take hold of it and get a proper look.

Cradling it, you gaze up in disbelief.

‘Beskar?’

‘Mmhm,’ he affirms. You look back down, draw your own thumb over the split to feel the cold bite of sacred steel.

‘I don’t understand.’ Tears prickle your eyes. One falls to land on Din’s thumb where it has come to rest over yours. He palms it into a fist, draws it back.

‘You will,’ he replies, voice soft. ‘Soon. There’s things for you to know, when we return to the Covert.’

His tone draws you from the shoulder piece back to his face – he’s nervous, hesitant, trying to not spook the wild thing before him.

The you of several months ago would have let what he just said set you on a panic spiral. Let it burrow into all your insecurities and trauma. Let it put a wall around you.

But the you of right now fends it off, reminding yourself that the price was just too damn high. The cost of giving in to fear and paranoia would end up destroying you. You know this now. Just trust him, you tell yourself. Remember what he said. Just be patient.

So you give a nod, an acknowledgement that you’ll wait to learn more. He relaxes a little.

Still, you have to work to not fret about what’s to come. So in the quiet that follows, your mind wanders back to the battle instead. Scenes and snippets dance across your consciousness. One thing jumps out at you, and you blurt it out.

‘Hey, why’d your jetpack cut out?’ you ask. He starts at your sudden turn in this conversation, but goes with it.

He looks embarrassed though. ‘Um, that’s…’ he mumbles, rubs palms together. ‘It’s only really powerful enough to carry just the one… person.’

‘Ah, too much weight?’ you ask.

At his chagrined look, a short laugh bursts out of you – breathy and full of relief. In response, Din smiles, with lips curving and teeth showing. The sight punches the air from your lungs.

‘Guess I’ll have to see about an upgrade,’ he says dryly.

Hells, and you’re gonna let that sit with you for a bit.

More bits come back. The miraculous course of events is overwhelming now that adrenaline and shock aren’t flooding your system.

‘And how would you have taken out Cephlate’s ship if I wasn’t here?’ you wonder aloud. ‘If I was still on the ground with…’

‘I don’t know,’ he admits. ‘I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.’

‘You had the second controls installed…’ Din shrugs, tips his chin and looks up at the ceiling, you see the faintest crawl of a blush on his neck. It’s charming as hell.

‘Let’s call it… hopeful planning,’ he offers. ‘I wanted to be prepared for anything.’

‘You were,’ you breathe. ‘You always are.’ He smiles again. You could get so used to that.

Another question bubbles up, but Din senses it and shushes you.

‘We can do a full forensic later – and talk more, I swear. But I think we’re about to—’ R5’s binary burbles a warning over the ship intercom. ‘Run low on fuel,’ Din finishes.

He examines you with an ‘okay to move?’ kind of expression and you nod.

As you each move to stand, careful to give space to the other, the sensations of your body rush into your awareness. Unpleasant, irritated, and clammy.

You stop in the doorway, turn back. ‘Um, D- Din?’

He straightens from collecting his helmet and turns to you, listening.

‘When we’ve landed, can I-- would there be time for me to…’ You raise an arm covered in dried blood to rub it across your neck, caked in dust. Drop it to the cut-away hole exposing your abdomen, also bloody. Dither before thinking hells with it. Just ask. ‘Would it be okay for me to use the fresher quick?’ You mumble it out in a rush. Grubby and self-conscious. ‘I just…’

‘Of course,’ he says, voice a low rumble. ‘Anything.’

Not long later, you stand under the warm stream of water revelling in the sensation. You know you don’t have much time, but you linger long enough to feel yourself seeping back into your skin. Coming home. Rivulets of cleansing moisture travel down your body, as you let the dirt and the blood and the months on months of heartbreak wash off and away.

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#din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #the mandaloria/reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

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korereapers · 7 months

Text

Title: Tainted

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Ship/Pairing: Astarion Ancunín/Gale Dekarios, bloodweave

Warnings: smut, Netherese orb shenanigans. LOTS OF FLUFF

AO3

Join the bloodweave server if you want to!

It has been a mistake on his part, and Gale can't help but blame himself for it. Who would be to blame, if not him and his foolishness? For how much he prides himself in his intelligence, evidence suggests that he has been, yet again, way too impulsive.

"It's more than fine, darling," Astarion says after a deep sigh, and Gale knows that he must be lying. It's not fine, nothing is fine, and Astarion's thumb on the corner of his own lips, licking it absentmindedly, tells him that he has, indeed, ruined the night.

"I swear to you, Astarion. In Mystra's name, I swear I had no idea-"

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Astarion exclaims, clearly irritated, baring his fangs dangerously, but Gale has learned to discern real danger from just a very visible frustration. "I know you had no idea! I know you wouldn't! Can you please keep that goddess of yours out of this?"

Gale bites his own tongue, because everything he can say would make the situation worse. He knows that Astarion blames Mystra for his situation, but Gale knows well enough that he has nobody to blame but himself. His foolishness, his impulsiveness. It wasn't hubris, not really, not as he understands it. He wanted her to like him, to admire him like he does, to-

"Honey," Astarion says, a hand with long fingers on Gale's cheek, a tentative touch that desperately makes him want to go back to reality, far from these thoughts. Can he allow himself that, though? Doesn't he owe him, them all, himself, and Mystra the guilt he is feeling? Isn't it better to do something useful with it, to use what he has inside of his chest for something good, instead of corrupting everything good that has ever happened to him? "Gale. Stop thinking. Look at me."

Gale smiles weakly at that.

"I am afraid, my vampiric companion, that ceasing all thought is kind of an impossible task-"

Astarion groans exasperatedly.

"Wizards… Fucking wizards."

"I mean. At this moment. I am brimming with thoughts. And not the good kind, I assure you."

Astarion's touch is cold, almost grounding. Red eyes look at him with worry, as if Gale was the one hurt, and not the other way around. It makes the hole inside of his chest feel bigger, the orb thrumming softly.

"Don't try and deflect again. That’s supposed to be my job."

Deep down, Astarion cares. He cares, because he reacts, sometimes viscerally, to the choices the group makes, to what Gale does to him, or to himself. Blood might not flow naturally inside of his body, but anger can make it boil just the same. Sadness does make his eyes sink, his movements slower. Happiness making his features shine, too young to what he had to endure, too full of life.

Gale doesn’t really want to think about when Astarion’s expression shows fear.

“I am aware of the… reservations you had towards us getting intimate. I of course intended to give you space. I tried my best at it,” Gale starts, his voice a little high, panic still fresh in his body. “I wanted to give you a special night. A night you would never forget.”

As if in cue, the starry sky becomes even more beautiful, its colors more intense. It’s a miracle that Gale hasn’t lost his concentration, given the circumstances, his magic still a wonder to Astarion, who looks up for a brief moment, only for his eyes to be back on Gale’s a second later.

It might be dark, but Gale works his magic for human eyes, and Astarion is an elf, and a vampire. He can see his warm eyes, rightfully worried, even if his worry is misplaced, this time. He sees how he gulps, he can almost feel every breath, even more because Astarion himself doesn’t have to, his lungs useless long ago. His blood, warm inside of him, the most tempting current, its flow a temptation he has learned to ignore most of the time.

He is aware, both of them are. Gale’s blood is corrupted, the orb inside of his chest making his body slowly rot from the inside, its magic taking Gale’s, and everything he touches with a purpose. Astarion hasn’t tried it again, Gale being adamant about it, about how dangerous it might be for him.

Gale is sure it is, at least. Not an acquired taste, as Astarion had tried to put it. As it turns out, it was not just his blood that got tainted by the Netherese orb, but many, many other parts of his body. Which is why, when Astarion had made the exact same face he did back when he first tried his blood while trying another completely different fluid of his, Gale had panicked.

Blood is one thing. It’s different when your vampire companion tries to bite you against your will, and he bites more than he can chew. Quite literally. Enjoying the… attentions Astarion’s mouth gives to him, after weeks of dancing around each other? After a well needed conversation about how Gale hasn’t had a partner after Mystra, while Astarion very much prefers not to be touched sexually until he feels ready? That’s a completely different thing.

Gale has ruined it all. Again.

It’s surprising, because he feels their illithids close, together, connecting. Astarion might not be able to understand, but wants to. His expression relaxes as Gale lets him connect, lets him see. There is no point in hiding anything anymore.

“You wanted to make it special. For me.”

Gale nods, closing his eyes when Astarion closes the gap between them, not to kiss him, but to touch his forehead with his own. Astarion, who doesn’t like physical touch, initiates it with someone like Gale, who caresses his cold face as if it was easy.

“You are afraid of this eternal feeling of yours. You feel that you are not good enough, that you have to impress me to make me think that you’re… worthwhile. That you have failed me and you have failed yourself.”

Gale doesn’t even try to hide, a sigh escaping his lips, his heart sinking when Astarion imitates the gesture a second later. He can feel his irritation through the tadpole, but Astarion keeps his cards close, he always does. The connection gets interrupted when Astarion moves, and Gale is, indeed, afraid. Afraid that he has ruined it even more.

Mystra didn’t deem him worthy. Maybe Astarion thinks the same.

The vampire shakes his head, graciously, and Gale finds himself looking, red eyes shining in what he recognizes as anger. Anger at him, maybe. That would be understandable, as Gale Dekarios seems to have a talent to make people angry at him.

“That’s… oddly self centered, don’t you think?”

Like that, Gale’s mind goes blank. He registers the words, but they don’t make sense to him. A part of him makes his blood burn with rage at the audacity, but the sad, heavy feeling that reminds him that he deserves it is too overwhelming for the rage to take place. It drowns its embers without effort, and Gale is left weak, his shoulders slumped.

Here it comes. The punishment.

“You don’t get to decide what to think and what to feel. Only I get to decide that.”

Gale wants to speak, really, he does. He has practiced speeches for situations like this, so usual with Mystra, having to use his silver tongue to get in her good graces again, until he couldn’t do it anymore. Until no words would appease her.

He can’t talk, though, because his lips are sealed with Astarion’s, whose anger seems to translate into a particularly rough kiss. A kiss that hurts, a kiss that heals. A kiss that makes him bleed.

He wants to warn him, he really does, but his brain feels foggy, almost as if it wasn’t his own. Gale kisses him back, selfishly, and he feels Astarion tense when he drinks, the taste probably hellish. Everything in him surely tastes like Hell.

But Astarion doesn’t relent, and damn, Gale knows that neither of them are particularly strong, but Astarion manages to push him into the floor, letting him breathe just before he kisses him again. A different type of hunger, he guesses. His red eyes burn like a predator’s, and Gale wonders, even if for a brief moment, what color they used to be.

“Stupid fucking wizard. When are you going to stop being lost in your own mind? I care about you, everyone cares about you. You feed and take care of this group of weirdos, you talk and talk, and Hells, talk so much and so eloquently it makes me angry at how much it makes me want you.”

Gale shudders at his words, not moving an inch when Astarion starts unbuttoning his robes, slowly, dexterous fingers tracing his skin. He is beautiful, the lines on his skin as he frowns, his eyebags of not sleeping properly in who knows how long.

A hint of fangs shine behind his lips as he admires Gale's body, his chest hairy, rising and falling, the rhythm increasingly quickly because of how excited he feels, his breathing so intense he is afraid of passing out. A slender finger plays around the orb on his chest, and Astarion finally smiles a little, Gale's body reacting to his touch, the weave reacting to his touch.

"I'm afraid I am not sure of what will happen if you toy too much with it, Astarion."

Red eyes glint when the vampire's smile becomes more visible, playful, almost cheeky.

"We'll be careful, won't we, darling?"

He feels exposed in front of him, all of his fake pride gone, not flaunting anything anymore. He feels insecure, even if he knows how good his skills are, maybe because he does, and doesn't consider them nearly enough. Blame the tadpole, Astarion seems to notice.

"I like the Gale Dekarios I see. Not Gale of Waterdeep, not Mystra's chosen. Just you. She doesn’t get to define you, and neither does anyone but yourself."

Gale does smile a little at that.

"You are sweeter than you claim to be, Astarion."

The vampire scoffs at his words, as if they were the funniest joke in the world. Gale doesn't need an illithid to feel the bitterness coming out of him.

"I speak the truth, my star. You know I do. And your words, your feelings, are more than welcome. They may hurt, but I can discern good intentions when I see them."

Astarion does groan this time, no energy to sugarcoat it.

"Can you please shut-"

"I want to kiss you again, Astarion. And do whatever you are comfortable with. The only thing that worries me is that I will burden you with a rotten body, and a rotten purpose."

He feels that the words lose their original meaning, his pants still unceremoniously unbuttoned, his robes half open, long hair disheveled, a clear blush almost everywhere. It’s Astarion’s time to shudder, though, his expression intense when he gets closer again, Gale’s breath on his face, and he feels it in Astarion’s features, he thinks it’s nice, that it feels nice. Astarion’s breath is, of course, absent, an intense red color filtering through beautiful, white eyelashes. Knowing. Waiting.

“Come and get it, then. Show me how much you want it.”

Gale feels a tug from inside. Something in his chest that’s not his orb. Something down his abdomen that’s definitely his cock, still hard, against all odds. Still, he has to ask. He would never forgive himself otherwise. A small gesture towards Astarion’s comfort.

“Do you want it? Do you want everything my body, mind, and soul can offer you? Even after having briefly tasted me and felt how far gone my body is?”

Astarion doesn’t move, almost not blinking, so clearly undead that it should make Gale’s skin crawl, but it doesn’t. It really doesn’t, not when Astarion’s hand is nervously on his own, his lips still a treat to Gale’s eyes. He feels the word before it abandons Astarion’s lips, a half casted spell that Gale feels against his lips.

“Yes.”

He is sincere, the word engraved into Gale’s brain, making him tremble in anticipation. Gale’s warm hand is on the cold cheek, just keeping him in place as he moves, closing the distance between them with a shaky breath.

The Nine Hells be damned, Gale knows what he is doing, but Astarion almost has it engraved in his muscle memory. He gets lost in the sensation, something that makes Gale’s heart flutter, because Astarion may be used to sex, but he is not used to this. He is not used to the way Gale’s hands shake, slowly and desperately trying to get rid of the vampire's clothes, until Astarion helps, his hands more skilled at the matter.

With a decent amount of collaboration they manage to show themselves, unclad, under the myriad of stars.

“Are you okay, darling? You look like you’re about to collapse…”

Gale nods, desperately, his lips letting out a soft moan when Astarion’s hands explore his body, every curve, the soft patches of hair. He shudders when a slender, cold hand is on his cock again stroking him softly, his mouth carefully biting Gale’s lower lip, dry blood on it that only seems to make Astarion even more eager.

“You won’t like whatever I can offer you, Astarion. Especially not you.”

Astarion huffs in frustration, a word in elvish that he doesn’t quite identify, but he doesn’t move when he is on the ground again, Astarion’s beautiful body shining under the artificial aurora Gale has created. Lots of small, little stars joining one of their kind, whose fangs slightly glint in a grin when Gale looks up at him, hands on his waist when Astarion straddles him with his legs.

“I wanna ride you. That’s what I would like to do.”

Gale’s throat is dry, eyes big and focused on Astarion’s face. There is no warmth on his skin, but that’s just another reason to keep him close. To try and remind him of when he was alive, before Cazador, before all of this madness. Warm hands move from Astarion’s waist to his chest, aware of the lack of heartbeat, still feeling in the tension of his muscles that he is, indeed, nervous. He caresses the scars on his back, and dexterous hands guide him downwards quickly, way too quickly. As if he didn’t want Gale to touch the words engraved into his back. He respects that, of course, his cock surely interested when Astarion’s hands guide his own towards his butt, and Gale blushes when the elf smiles knowingly.

“I assure you, my dear. Whatever your body and mind can offer me is more than welcome."

Gale isn't so sure about that, to be honest. Not about Astarion's… predisposition, but about his own body. Maybe if he manages to talk to Mystra one day… maybe she would understand. Maybe she'd forgive him, and grant him a body he doesn't deserve. Maybe.

Astarion brings him back to the present, far from possibilities, making him focus on what they are doing. A bottle of something Gale bought as soon as they got into the outskirts of Baldur's Gate floats in the air, courtesy of Astarion's invisible mage hand. He smirks at him, fangs showing slightly.

"Do you want to get me ready, or would you rather watch?"

Both choices seem impossible to Gale's own fragile mental health, to be completely honest. Still, the choice is obvious to him at the moment.

"If you do not mind… I would rather touch you myself. You might find that I have some… untapped skills."

He doesn't know how he manages to say that with a straight face, but Astarion's smile only gets wider. He believes him. He really does. He takes the small bottle from the mage hand, handing it to Gale carefully.

"I'm sure of that."

There is this thing about Astarion. About sexual matters, he always seems to be confident, experienced. Not a hair out of place, clearly a performance that has been honed for centuries. His façade breaks slightly when Gale's coated fingers caress his entrance, red eyes bigger, like a nervous animal. Prey, for once, and not a predator.

Gale is, still, very much not a predator, thank you very much.

"You know you can relax around me, Astarion. We can stop whenever you want."

Astarion's groan is supposed to convey frustration, but to Gale's ears is just yet another expression of fondness.

He feels tight and cold around his finger, eager and fed, having drunk from one of their enemies mere hours ago. He feels warmer when he is sated, Gale has noticed. More alive, also more sensitive. His soft sigh when Gale slowly fingers him is not performative, for it's not perfect, not calculated, not so beautiful for it to be irreal. He is sure that Astarion would blush if he could.

Gale likes it even more this way.

The way his red eyes shine when Gale looks up to kiss him are more than enough, though.

"Hurry up. I can take it, wizard."

Gale knows he can. He still doesn't rush it, arching his finger a little, his caress a little quicker, but not much. He kisses his lips, his chin, his sharp cheeks. Sadness fills him when he thinks about being unable to feed him, not in a way that matters. Meat and stew taste good, but do nothing to placate Astarion's hunger. He still eats, though, not saying a word about the taste, so Gale assumes he enjoys it. Astarion would never take anything less than what he deserves, after all. In that aspect, at least.

Gale is the living proof of the exception, after all. Why would he choose a human, with a rotten body, a damned future caused by the most damaging part of his ego?

"Wizard. Stop overthinking, or the gods help me…"

He doesn't even have to ask. Astarion rolls his eyes, as if it were obvious.

"You get a little frown when you think hard about something. It's not usually something happy, for what I know."

Gale sighs, teasing his entrance with another finger.

"I get lost in my mind way too often. For that, I apologize."

Astarion gasps as he enters him, slender legs shaking on Gale's lap.

What a sight…

"You're lucky you're kind of cute, Gale Dekarios. If you weren't, I might have stabbed you long, long ago."

Gale knows that he is joking. He also knows that it's not a coincidence that Astarion is saying that when he is feeling vulnerable, or that he is using his family name, and not the epithet Gale uses for himself. He has been since they met Tara, since Gale mentioned his mother.

"I am cute? You are gorgeous, my star."

Astarion's muscles tense around his fingers in response. He surely likes the praise, especially when it is sincere, when Gale is not just speaking about Astarion's good looks. For a second, Gale wonders about it, about those muscles tensing around him, tight and delicious, taking him eagerly. He blushes at the thought, and Astarion smiles, dashing and knowing.

"A copper piece for your thoughts?"

Gale mumbles something incoherent, burying his burning face in Astarion's shoulder, making him giggle.

"Nothing? That's a first… having rendered Gale Dekarios speechless…"

He doesn't get to tease him for long, because Gale actually gets to work, trying to focus on the task at hand. Which is both preparing and pleasuring Astarion until he feels ready to take him and… experience whatever doom is awaiting them when Gale fills him with his rotten seed and-

Astarion kisses his temple, and it does make Gale think, about how comfortable he seems to be with his new role, in which his lips are not a tool to prey on others, to lie and lie and keep lying until someone finally falls for his tricks. This, this soft caress, honest and without worry, suits him perfectly. Maybe, Gale himself suits him perfectly.

Maybe.

"I said no overthinking."

Gale smiles at him, brown eyes like melted chocolate, his motions slow but purposeful. Astarion trembles on his lap, his cock twitching in interest, and Gale tries his hardest not to just take him in his hand, no matter how much Astarion's eyes, drowning him in crimson intensity, are almost ordering him to.

"I would like for you to enjoy this longer, my star."

The petname seems to work, because Astarion begrudgingly, sighs, almost as if trying to relax. He frowns when Gale curls his fingers, carefully massaging his insides, fingers that were made for reading and handling powerful spells finding a sensitive spot, and Astarion does indeed make a sound. It's not dignified, or elegant, but it's natural, raw.

He guides him through the whole process. How he likes it, the intensity, the pressure, the pace. He murmurs it all, sweet instructions against Gale's lips, who follows them in between soft kisses, shuddering each time Astarion seems to especially enjoy something.

"You are a quick learner, wizard. Such a beautiful brain you have…"

Astarion is riling him up. He doesn't have to be smart to know. He is successfully doing it, and Gale hates himself for falling for it, weak and pathetic, panting against his smile, feeling his thighs tensing around him.

"Inside, Gale," he says in a low tone, demanding, almost a growl. "I want you inside."

Gale Dekarios is, well, currently untouched. He still trembles when Astarion speaks, a desperate sound leaving his lips. He feels pathetic, but Astarion's expression is unchanging. Honest, wanting.

"Shit," Gale enunciates eloquently when Astarion moves, making Gale miss him dearly when his fingers are no longer inside of him. Astarion takes the bottle of lubricant, manually, slowly coating Gale's cock with it, keeping eye contact. Which would be hell for Gale if not for the fact that he is currently mesmerized.

His orb pulses, the sound of electricity filling the air. Maybe this is the way he goes. Unable to keep himself under control, way too excited and reckless to think about the obvious. To have enough strength to care about the danger.

"You are not going to get hurt," Astarion assures him. "You are not going to hurt me either. Or anyone in camp."

"But-"

"You might be a self centered asshole sometimes, but you care about us. About yourself. About… about me."

Astarion may be unable to blush, but the way his tongue seems to twist and make him ponder about his words is maybe the closest thing he has.

"Deep down, you never wanted to off yourself. You just thought it was the only thing you could do. The right thing to do. Bullshit…"

Gale smiles at him, his hands on both sides of Astarion's face.

"Is that an insight… from self centered asshole to self centered asshole?"

Astarion chuckles at that, enamored.

"Oh he has some edge… I love that."

It's Astarion who guides Gale's cock towards his entrance, his experience still unmatched… which leaves Gale with a sour feeling. He shouldn't have had to deal with something like that. He deserved better. That's why he is trying to make everything beautiful, perfect for him.

"I can… I can do it all myself, if that helps you…"

Astarion gently rolls his eyes.

"Darling, I am indeed deeply grateful. But I want to do this. I want you to feel good, and I want to feel good with you. I do appreciate the pampering but… I'm fine, I swear."

Gale’s smile is nervous. Knowing what’s to come, knowing what to expect. His throat bobs slightly, gulping a little bit too loudly.

“If I understand correctly… that means that you want to pamper me, I am assuming?”

Astarion’s smile is devilishly sexy after he answers with a single word, but it’s not rehearsed, not so pretty it has to be unreal. It’s pretty, his fangs showing slightly, but it’s not too wide, not too flashy. There is a hint of nervousness in trembling lips, and Gale can only kiss them softly, feeling their cool touch that is starting to warm up to him.

His insides are not cold, but not warm either. Something is at work there, maybe that Astarion has fed recently, so his body is especially vigorous. He takes him slowly, almost like torture, and Gale has his hands on his hips, making sure that he doesn’t rush it. Astarion seems proud of himself when Gale lets out a breath that he didn’t know that he was holding, a little fanged smile that Gale makes sure to kiss yet again.

“Are you sure…” he tries to ask, nervous about his obvious problem, but Astarion is having none of it.

“Yes.”

“But-”

“Darling, you might be an incredible wizard. A wonderful man. But I’m pretty sure your cock lacks the skill to kill me, no matter how good of a cock it is.”

Gale’s face is flushed, both mortified and incredibly pleased. Trying not to let the compliment go too deep inside of his psyche. He can feel himself getting harder at it, and Astarion’s smile is amused, sinking himself more into him, making a sweet sound when the friction seems to be a little bit too good.

“Fuck… finally.”

Gale cannot say much in return, too overwhelmed by the sensation, not just the physical one. Astarion makes him lie down, the beautiful night sky above them. Pale skin reflects the light slightly, making Gale gasp in awe. The stars may be beautiful, but Astarion is the most gorgeous of them all.

“My star…” Gale manages to say, his voice strangled, before the vampire moves, hungry for him in a way that Gale hasn’t felt in decades. Before Mystra, before his own foolishness, before all this mess. Red eyes shine in recognition, in fondness, rocking his hips slowly.

He’s beautiful. That’s what he thinks as Astarion moves, his movements elegant. He thinks about him moving in the shadows, slicing an enemy without effort, his eyes hungry in a completely different way. He looks up at him, because he knows, he knows he might be doing this for him, and not for both of them, but his expression is not vacant. Astarion is there with him, moaning softly when Gale’s warm hands caress his thighs, tenderly, digging his fingers into his skin with both sweetness and lust.

“May I… may I touch you?”

Gale has to ask, wants to ask. Astarion confided in him, about his worries, his past, his relationship with sex. He won’t do anything Astarion is uncomfortable with, but it’s still refreshing to hear him chuckle, the gesture making his whole body tremble.

��Of course, my dear,” he murmurs, just a second after moving again, Gale’s hold on him tighter, moaning softly, a hand slowly moving towards Astarion’s erection. He takes him with no hesitation, sensing him tense, the eye contact making Gale’s insides burn. Astarion looks intense as he moves, as Gale pumps him, tight around each other, an exhalation escaping an undead mouth with effort. It is rewarding when he finally moans, and Gale just frowns, nodding slightly.

It’s funny, almost, how words elude him in that moment. He feels himself babbling at times, about Astarion, about how pretty he is, about how nice and sweet he is to him. It makes Astarion’s expression change, and Gale doesn’t feel any kind of disgust coming from him, if the tension around his cock is to be trusted. He has never been good at reading expressions, even less in this state of near climax.

That’s why it takes him by surprise, the way Astarion keeps moving, but gets closer to him, looking for his lips briefly before the kisses go down his chin, his throat. Gale is pretty sure the vampire is not going to bite him, given how revolting his blood is, but his lips are dangerously close to the Netherese orb.

Gale wants to warn him, to tell him he doesn’t know how volatile the orb might be, but he isn’t sure if Astarion would have listened nevertheless. His voice breaks when Astarion kisses it, tenderly, his face buried on Gale’s chest as he keeps rocking his lips.

If there was something to say, Gale isn’t sure he can find the words, his face so red he fears he might faint. He just moans, feeling the orb thrumming, Astarion’s own whimper making his sight blurry. His movements are erratic. He must be close, too.

“You wanted to keep this from me, wizard? You feel like electricity… Powerful and vigorous and…”

Gale wants to say something, anything.

“Astarion…”

“I love everything you have to offer. I love… I love everything…”

That’s a little bit too much for Gale’s heart to handle. He feels himself coming messily, with the strength of a sledgehammer, the orb dangerously close to losing its stability. He is, too, so he wouldn’t really blame it. The stars seem to flicker above them, and Gale doesn’t know how his concentration hasn’t broken or faded, after all. Astarion keeps moving, almost desperately, reaching his own orgasm shortly after, Gale’s hand erratic on him, but apparently still enough to make him figuratively or not, see the stars. He feels a smile against his chest, a small kiss on it afterwards, and Gale realizes, embarrassed, that there are tears on his face. He still kisses Astarion’s temple, both in relief and in gratitude.

“I stand… I stand corrected,” Astarion mutters, still kissing his skin. “That cock almost killed me, albeit not in the way you feared.”

Gale lets out a small chuckle, trying not to sniff too loudly. Still, he knows that there is something in the air. The orb seems to react to Astarion’s touch, even if weakly, as if drawing itself to him.

“Do you… do you feel the weave, like back when we practiced?”

Astarion nods, looking up at him, magic oozing from him, a faint purple glint in his eyes.

“If I compliment you too much, it’ll go over your head, so I’ll just say this. You may taste like hell, but this…”

Gale knows the feeling well. Completion, understanding. Fulfillness. He caresses Astarion’s face, feeling the magic under his fingertips.

“You are lovely. I know I might have said that already, but if you are not averse to-”

Astarion’s lips are on his own, trapping him between the vampire’s body and the ground. Drinking from him without draining him, just… sharing an experience. Connected in a way that makes sense to both of them.

“It feels good, to be like this with you.”

The netherese orb is like a curse, a punishment for his own hubris, but Astarion’s fingers circling it, his small kisses, almost make it all bearable. They both wear their marks, the weight of their past. Gale’s fingers ghost over Astarion’s scars as they kiss, not daring to touch them too much, not until it’s Astarion who guides him towards them, as if trying to repay his trust.

If Astarion realises that Gale is crying again, he says nothing about it. They just lie side by side, looking at stars that aren’t real, but that are proof of everything Gale wants to convey. Closer than they should be, even if the moment is technically over. Gale would love to cuddle a little more, but he doesn’t really want to push it and make him uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” he says instead, his warm eyes looking at him, at the beautiful start shining among hundreds of his kind. “For everything.”

Astarion doesn’t meet his gaze, still looking at the sky. At everything that Gale has created for him.

“You have been kind to me. That’s more than most people can say,” he offers as an explanation, but says nothing else.

Gale still notices how he gets closer to him, his head casually resting on Gale’s shoulder as he admires the sky. Gale, though? Bless the weave and its wonders, but in that moment, Gale can only keep looking at Astarion.

#my stuff #bloodweave #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #these hoziers kind of ship motherfuckers

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