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ancuninfiles · 9 days

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Comfort pt. 3

Screenshot by @astarionposting

3.5k words - F/M - Astarion x F! Tav - Gale x F! Tav - 18+

Thank you To @gelican-gelicant Gelican AO3 for beta-reading and tbh teaching me how to be a better writer. I wouldn't be able to do this without you. Please check out their works!

Graphic depictions of violence

Summary: Gale realizes how Nym (Previously Tav) makes him feel, and figures out what to do about it. Astarion wants Nym all to himself, and drama at the grove ensues.

Tags: smut, consensual groping, masturbation (penis), spanking, blood loss, possessive Astarion, obsession, Bloodweave (if you squint), dry humping, sexual fantasies

MASTERLIST (The other chapters and other works)

Read on AO3 (Recommended)

Gale lay on his back as he watched the rain patting on the roof of his violet tent. He had been eager to start the day until the teeming rain had paused their journey to find a healer.

It was day two of their adventure, and the companions were turning out to be interesting. The pale elf and the leader, Nym, had coupled fairly quickly, and their noises kept Gale awake for a portion of the night. He knew that elves did not need to sleep as humans did, but he would have expected them to at least have some semblance of respect for their campmates.

Nym's noises were particularly distracting, not only because they were the loudest, but also because of how they caused Gale's mind to race and his blood to pump.

How long had it been since Mystra shared a bed with him? He was sequestered to his tower for at least one year with only his tressym and a hand to keep him company. To say he was pent-up would be an understatement to the intoxicating storm within him.

The way that Nym crawled over to him like a tiger - and her suggestion that he could join the two elves of otherworldly beauty in bed at the same time was causing a rush of blood to flow into his groin.

He wondered how long it would take for the rain to let up, and if he would have time to get some relief before setting off on their adventure.

He closed his eyes and pictured Nym's naked body, and her screams of pleasure while he touched her cunt with his hand; the same hand that was creeping below his pants and slowly reaching for his painfully hard member.

He pictured the pale elf's lips and tongue swirling around his girth, and the feeling of his cock at the back of his throat, his own length growing larger and leaking seed.

Gale grasped his cock and pulled his trousers down with his free hand, just enough to free it from the strangling chastity.

He began stroking his cock vehemently, thrusting up into his hand, and thumbing his precum and spreading its wetness down his shaft.

He pictured Nym's swollen cunt being filled by the pale elf, while he positioned his own girth at the entrance of her pert asshole before sinking himself into her slowly, stroking what he couldn't fit inside yet.

He would grab her ass and spit on her holes, now stuffed, leaving only her mouth empty and wanting.

He would reach around to stick his fingers in her mouth, or he could watch the two seductive elves locking lips and listen to her muffled moans on his tongue as they fucked her.

He wanted to feel Astarion's cock on the underside of his own through the wall that connects Nym's tight asshole to her soaking pussy, and he revelled in the thought of feeling his balls grazing against the gorgeous elf's shaft as he fucked into Nym's perfect hole.

He was so close - he wanted to cum inside her and see his hot juice leak onto Astarion's cock as he fucked it into her.

Times like these made him grateful for an elf's lack of fertility. He couldn't imagine raising a child with a mind-flayer parasite in his brain; but his cock was inside his hand, not Nym, and not between Astarion's lips either.

He had been so distracted by his reverie that he failed to notice that the rain had let up completely.

"Wizard! - Are you coming?" yelled Astarion.

No, I won't be coming.

He pulled up his pants and tucked his cock into his waistband before throwing on his robes in an effort to hide his shameful attempt at release.

Mystra, forgive me.

He stumbled out of his tent to where Nym, Astarion, and Shadowheart were all standing and discussing their mission for the day.

“Considering that we are near a body of fresh water, I have no doubts that there’s a settlement nearby,” Nym pressed.

“Right - we best get going,” Gale chimed in, body taut with tension and wanting to forget everything that happened within the past five minutes.

__________

The crew journeyed towards the sounds of shouting while in search of a healer, which led them to a skirmish between a group of goblins versus druids and tiefling refugees.

Nym cast entangle, and then Astarion shot with his crossbow, and snuck up with his daggers to slash the enemy's throats.

Astarion favoured Nym's side, as they synergized in battle with seamless coordination, as though they were seasoned comrades.

Gale used long-range attacks, staying behind everyone and casting spells from afar. He occasionally glanced at the two elves as they danced their way through the battle together, causing his cheeks to flush as he remembered his shallowly suppressed fantasies.

The battle swiftly concluded with goblin corpses decorating the path toward a grove, which would hopefully lead them to a druidic healer who could take care of their tadpole problem.

They made their way to the shops where Nym sold their wares. Astarion pulled out a parchment which seemed to have a list of items they wanted to purchase, and then he helped Nym with the transaction before placing everything in his pack.

“That halfling is stingy. Next time I’m just going to steal my arrows from the little gremlin,” Astarion stated with a mischievous grin.

“Shh - stop it!” Nym poked Astarion’s arm roughly. “What if someone hears you? We’re already the outsiders, and I’ve picked up that the druids here are a distrustful lot.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure to keep quiet the next time I’m discussing my cunning schemes,” Astarion hunched his back and positioned his hands up as if he were drawing non-existent claws before whispering just loud enough for the four to hear.

Nym's face reddened at his words.

Could she truly be interested in someone who is willing to steal from these poor druids? Gale had already begun disapproving of Astarion’s impulsive and murderous attitude, since the previous day’s interaction with the looters in the nearby ruins.

___________

They were doing reconnaissance when they overheard the group of bandits talking about the nautiloid, and how they wanted to search it for valuables. They clustered together to deliberate on how best to address the situation.

“I say we put the bastards out of their misery, then rob them for all they’re worth,” Astarion keenly suggested.

Nym paused, eyes widening and glaring at Astarion. “Wha- really?”

Gale’s brows canted downwards in a frown. “Surely we don’t need to immediately resort to violence. I could speak to them; maybe they won't be hostile.”

Nym hung her head and ran her fingers through her scalp, gripping her hair with both hands before sighing. “I don’t know - they seem pretty hostile to me already.” She released her hair and tucked it behind her ears. “Shadowheart?”

“We need supplies, and they have supplies. Let’s just get this over with and call it a day,” Shadowheart sighed.

The consensus was to attack the bandits; Gale, knowing that sticking together was their best bet to be un-tadpoled, put his differences aside for the sake of their group.

___________

Astarion was pushing the boundaries of acceptable mischief; it soured Gale's desire to engage in the wanton activities he had fantasized about earlier this morning.

Gale admitted to himself that Astarion was very handsome, but charming in the same way a lion might be before it mauls one to death.

There is also the concern of Mystra watching over everything I do. Should the orb even slightly destabilize, Mystra will know; and she will know what the cause is while it is happening.

The last thing Gale wanted was for Mystra to see him making love to another - but she had abandoned him.

He pushed the thought from his mind for the time being, knowing there were bigger problems to worry about.

__________

Astarion and the team navigated through the grove to where two tieflings argued with some druids about their daughter being taken into questioning by someone named Kagha. The argument halted and Nym approached them, sweaty and trembling like a newborn doe.

She wiped the sweat from her brow and planted her hands on her hips, hunching her shoulders and squinting away the sunlight. “We’ve come looking for a healer.” Her voice cracked. “I’m a druid reining from the High Forest and I’d like to speak to your archdruid,” she breathed, her mouth opening in a grimace.

Astarion noted that Nym looked ill. Perhaps the health potions I gave her weren’t enough to salve the blood loss.

“Outsiders have no business here, druid or not. We’ve enough strays already.”

Nym clenched her fists and teeth, her mouth tightening into a pursed expression, and her long nails digging into her palms. “Okay, well we just saved your asses from a hoard of bloodthirsty goblins, so the least you could do is just let us speak to whoever’s in charge here,” she asserted.

Oh, she is feisty today, Astarion thought.

“She’s right,” perked one of the druids.

“Alright, but we’ll have our eyes on you.”

“Great.” Nym forced a smile. “We’ll be off, then.”

They walked into a clearing where a misty green ritual was taking place. The sun was hot and beating down on all of them, which seemed to rouse Nym more than anyone.

“I just need a minute,” she panted as they approached a cliff on the side of the ritual where two ruined pillars had fallen, leading towards a small beach. She began to fan herself with her hand and sat down to dangle her feet off the ledge, dirt and sand sticking to her exposed thighs.

Nym sat back, resting her weight on one hand, fanning herself with the other and playfully swinging her legs off the cliff in tandem.

She is not doing okay.

“How about Astarion and I go look for that healer?” Shadowheart suggested.

“Yeahyeahfinewhatever.” Nym closed her eyes and scrunched her features.

What? And leave her with him? Astarion thought.

Astarion’s eyes widened as he glanced toward Gale, who began to kneel beside Nym.

I should be the one to stay with Nym, making sure she’s okay; not the idiot wizard.

He looked back to Shadowheart, who had already begun walking towards the entrance to the archdruid’s quarters, and decided to hold his tongue lest he seem too needy, or jealous.

Which I’m not, of course.

Astarion quickly caught up to Shadowheart, glancing back at Nym and Gale before the door to the den closed behind him.

__________

“You don’t look like you’re feeling too well,” Gale pointed out.

“Hmph - yeah, I’m just sick, I think, or something. Sorry.” She stood up and balanced on the ruined pillars, making her way down to the beach.

Gale clumsily followed behind her. “Oh dear, hopefully not a case of ceramorphosis; although I believe that we should have turned already if that were the case. Still, it’s very puzzling. I’ve done a lot of research on this topic, and I mean a lot. One might call me an expert on it. I -” he paused.

Nym was not paying attention at all, instead, she was hunched over, squatting, sorting through rocks on the beach and stacking them vertically.

“Oh! What’s this?” Nym squealed excitedly, holding up a gold amulet that had the words “Te Absolvo” engraved on the back. “No fucking way!”

She put the amulet on herself hurriedly before chanting the same words that were inscribed on the amulet. A glowing blue aura surrounded her, and the sound of wind chimes momentarily filled the air surrounding her.

She exhaled deeply with her eyes closed and a smile planted on her face. Nym sat back on her bottom and crossed her legs, looking at the amulet inquisitively.

A magical item, good to note. Gale thought.

This was the first time that Gale had Nym alone, and the beach they were at was surprisingly secluded, especially around the bend.

He wondered, She wanted me.

The memories of his fantasy flooded his mind. Perhaps if I just-

His hands came to reach for Nym's shoulders. “You’re slouching - it’s not good for your back.”

Nym straightened and pressed up into his touch, rolling her head to the side and closing her eyes with a smile.

That’s a good sign.

Gale came down on his knees and began to massage her shoulders, applying pressure with his thumbs and squeezing her trapezoids with his palm.

Nym lolled her head forward and groaned. “Ahh - so nice.”

Gale experimentally trailed his palms lower towards her uncovered midriff, and then snaked his fingers up to fuss under the bottom of her shirt, causing a gasp to escape her lips

He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “Is this okay?”

“Mhm,” she assured him quietly.

He lifted her tight, thin, leather shirt to rest above her breasts, exposing them to the soothing air that was being carried ashore by the water. He sat back on his heels and groped Nym's fleshy mounds while his lips grazed her ear.

“Still okay?” He whispered, his cock now straining against his pants as it had this morning.

She let out a needy sigh, “Huh - yeah.” Her head lolled back as she affirmed again.

He pinched her nipples in sync, causing Nym to yelp quietly. He pushed her hair to the side with his right hand and began placing wet kisses on her neck while toying with her tender peaks.

Nym groaned and Gale crept his right hand down,

Down,

Down . . .

until he reached Nym's waistband, where he snuck the tips of his fingers beneath to insinuate his request; all the while, continuing his work on her left breast.

Yet, his head jerked backward as his hair was gripped, and he sensed the cold, sharp sting of metal against his throat. His eyes widened as he froze.

“Let - her - go.” A deep and fearsome voice spoke, the low tenor sending vibrations through his head. “Now,” he growled, pressing the blade to Gale’s throat and creating a shallow but stinging crimson line to form beside his Adam's apple.

Gale released Nym, and she spun around on her knees to face the scene.

“Astarion! What are you doing?” Nym yelled, breasts still exposed.

Astarion cocked his head up to Nym. His eyes were bulging and his teeth were bared.

In one quick movement, Gale reached up to grasp Astarion’s wrist.

“Fulgor!” Gale chanted, sending an electrical shockwave through Astarion.

Astarion groaned loudly through gritted teeth, his body convulsing uncontrollably causing him to stumble back on his ass.

Gale stood and turned to Astarion while feeling his own neck and then examining the blood that stained his fingers. He held his wound, applying pressure, his face screwing up.

“Use your words, dammit! You almost bloody killed me!” Gale protested.

Astarion got back on his feet and stood tall. “That was the point, you insufferable swine! Agh!” he groaned, holding the wrist that Gale had cast Shocking Grasp on.

Nym pulled her shirt down and stood up, beside the dueling pair. Her knuckles whitened as her nails dug into her palms. Her shoulders were tense and her torso leaned forward.

“What the fuck is happening right now?” she panted, her shoulders rising and falling with each breath, eyes welling up with tears as she held a deep frown and her eyes darted from one man to the other.

“Nothing - not anymore, since you’ve been freed from this gorilla’s grasp,” Astarion responded.

“She wanted me to touch her!” said Gale.

Astarion paused.

He then grunted and swung the pommel of his blade to smash into Gale’s orbital bone, causing him to lose his balance and hold his face with his bloodied hand.

“Stop it!” Nym cried. “Please!” She grabbed her head and toppled to her bottom. Her knees were lifted and her hands covered her eyes to palm her tears away. She sniffled and sobbed on the sandy beach as the soft waves kissed the shore.

Both men halted as they witnessed Nym's sorrowful display of emotion.

“I don’t know what’s going on -” She choked out a sob. “My friends are fighting and it’s scaring me,” she whined and sniffed up her cries.

Shadowheart, who had been snacking on an apple and watching everything unfold from the edge of the cliff, stepped down to the trio with haste and between Nym and the two men.

“Can’t you men see that your juvenile quarrel is upsetting Nym? You've all better find a way to discuss your feelings like adults later, and a way to can it for now; lest you want our leader to be obsolete.” Her brows knit in annoyance. “Now, I suggest you leave us for a few moments; considering you two were the ones to cause this problem in the first place.”

Gale held his eye behind Astarion who was still seething as they both faced Shadowheart.

Astarion grunted. “Agh - I am not leaving her again!”

Nym's head perked up at his words, face red and wet from tears. She gazed at Astarion, lips parted and eyes puffy from crying.

Shadowheart looked back at Nym to read her face for any signs of disapproval before looking back to Astarion and Gale. “Fine - Gale, you come with me. I have to heal you, anyway.”

“Yeah, no thanks to that incredulous elf,” Gale fumed, walking past Astarion, Shadowheart and Nym towards the clifftop.

Turning, Shadowheart addressed Nym with a quick “Hey, we'll talk later,” before swiftly departing from the beach to follow Gale.

__________

Astarion let out a breathy sigh before walking over to Nym and slumping to sit beside her on the ruined pillar. She held her knees and fell onto Astarion’s lap awkwardly.

Astarion reached out to tenderly caress her head, running his hand gently over her hair and sweeping it behind her ear. She closed her eyes at his touch and sighed into his lap.

Cute.

He then scooped her under her arms to come and sit on his lap, her legs dangling off of his left side and her face and arms pressing into his chest. He placed a firm smooch on her head and squeezed her tightly. Nym cozied into his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

Astarion wanted to hold her and never let her go, which made him feel pathetic. He had only known Nym for a single day and was already becoming attached, as if she were a piece of him that would cause him immense pain upon its departure. Something about her had begun to grow roots into his soul.

“Did you want him to touch you?” He asked - because, of course, she would say no.

Please say no. That would make things so much easier. That way I can just kill him and be over with it.

At the same time, Astarion worried for her soul if she had truly been groped by the gorilla without consent. All the more reason to ring his neck. So a part of him hoped that she did want it, and that nobody would ever touch her like the way all of the monsters over the years had touched him.

“Yeah,” she replied.

An obscure and uncanny pain flowed through his veins at her words, causing his breath to stop and his chest to tighten. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer to his next question.

“Did you like it?”

Silence, But then,

“Mhm,” Nym sighed while rolling her hips on Astarion's lap and squeezing him tightly.

Shit, he thought, does she think I'm happy for her?

He wanted to take her to his tent, bend her over his knee and spank her bare bum until it was red and speckled with purple bruises - and until she apologized. I'm so sorry Astarion! I'm yours and only yours! I don't want Gale!

Only then would he seize his abuse, and then reward her with his fingers. . . and then, maybe, his cock - if she was a very good girl.

Blood began to rush to his groin just thinking about it.

Or, he could . . . Bite her throat and drink from her until she was within an inch of her life, and then offer to heal her - only after she apologizes.

He pictured it so clearly, her body weakening under him until she couldn’t move and could barely open her eyes. Her lips beautifully pale, and her hands pinned above her head.

“Please heal me, Astarion. I am so sorry! I won't think about Gale ever again!” she would cry; and he would make her promise.

Yeah.

He would lean Into her ear and say “Promise me, little love.” And then she would whine and say “I promise to be only yours, Astarion!” in her weak and melodic little voice.

His mouth watered at the thought of filling his belly with her blood again and again.

He pushed her hair to the side and began to graze his fangs against her neck. He licked, searching for her pulse. Nym, in response, shivered and relaxed her muscles in his grasp.

He was so close, he could feel the little patches of dry skin where he bit her last.

But instead, he kissed her flesh tenderly and held her tighter to his chest.

You will be mine.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Says he's in love with my body, that's why he's fucking it up And then he says to me "Baby, if it feels good, then it can't be bad" Where I can be immoral in a stranger's lap Ethel Cain - Gibson Girl

#astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #astarion x original female character #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #astarion x female tav #gale x f!tav #gale x female reader #gale x female tav #gale dekarios #gale fanfic #gale smut #bloodweave #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!oc

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linka-from-captain-planet · 3 months

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Looking for inspo to do something for Femslash February, so obviously the answer was to plug all my favorite BG3 ladies into a random 2-name picker and hit it once (re-picked only for repeats) for each of these prompts

Please enjoy the results

Araj + Shadowheart - if only

Adrielle + Nine-Fingers - please be gentle

Lassandra + Rion - your life is mine

Florrick + Nym - doomed by the narrative

Lassandra + Alfira - hands for holding

Talli + Araj - it still bleeds

Shadowheart + Jaheira - come back soon

Nocturne + Jaheira - living dead

Nocturne + Lassandra - in the shadows

Araj + Rion - love is devotion

Araj + Lakrissa - alternate timeline

Adrielle + Minthara - karma

Araj + Nym - goddess

Araj + Lae'zel - before you go

Karlach + Mizora - haunting

Minthara + Aylin and Isobel - hourglass

Nocturne + Allandra - weapons

Aylin and Isobel + Nine-Fingers - once upon a time

Jaheira + Talli - partners in crime

Lae'zel + Florrick - chose violence

Mizora + Lakrissa - fantasy

Karlach + Florrick - anything for you

Alfira + Nym - copycat

Rion + Mizora - plagued by the horrors

Talli + Naoise - your voice

Nine-Fingers + Lassandra - apocalypse

Nym + Adrielle - diamond

Lassandra + Jaheira - made you smile

Nocturne + Nine-Fingers - and then I found you

#some of these ARE making my brain vibrate #femslash february

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mogai-headcanons · 8 months

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Pelops 2 from Godzilla Singular Point is an aroace aspec acore electroqueer pupcute cyberdog CAIN neondogic tbhdoggender pupthing puphoard weredoggender interfaceiac techfluid sciragender cybercoric coneonglitchix sillylittlenic littleguyic agender AI who uses pup/pups pronouns!

Pup is friends with Bunzo Bunny from Poppy Playtime, a bunvesil goresil sex-repulsed uranic arospike bungender bunhoard neonknifebungender funbungender killerbunnyic dysphorrabbic bunnycorec bungorecoric horrorgorbungender buniathic villochaotic swufegender apocagender crypticoric demongender foegender bunboygender edgecute crecutian adoragoric CRYPTIN horreuria hemobunnian fatalgender eldricora bunny who uses bun/buns, kyon/kyons, nym/nyms, and any violence-related pronouns!

Both are friends with Milky Way Cookie from Cookie run, a sleep conceptkin sleepvesi spacevesi starvesi ASAB sognareromantic yumesexual somnollisgender sleepyrooted nemuideric plushicuddlic blankiegender spacecute somnys lunia mosvoidsteor novagender galaxyaesic mulaayamic celestiarainbowic plastarskyic nemuiderecutie caelgender pancaeleste caelneu caelnonbinary eepything spacething sleepything nonbinary cookie with anxiety who uses she/her, sleep/sleeps, eepy/eepys, star/stars, and space/spaces prounouns!

Milky Way likes to hang out with eepys best friend U*SA*HA*NA from Sanrio, a rainbowvesi vesirainbow artcoric pastelkidcoric pastelcoric pastelrainbowaesic sillyaeangender rainbowgender cutenic ‎‏‎cutecreature sanriocoric coohoard cutehoard bellagender softpastelcoric fluffgender colorgender genderpastel adorbian ♡thing cutebeing gendercute biyaghost transneutral bunny who uses any pronouns!

They're all best friends with Gir from Invader Zim, a dogkin animekin sparkledogkin autistic xenopunk rabiespunk kinpunk otherpunk cringepunk dogvesi vesikin vesifurry intheorybi scenekidic invifurvuirisane 2010scringic cringexdcoric aughtenternet blacklightaesic neonpastelgoric nyanmemegender hallowdecoraesic neongoric sourcandyblastic SOIN soursodagender queerfool sillyaeangender animagauditraitic sillylittlenic rotgender panridiculum hyperfixgender yippeestimlexic candygorelexic yippeelexic gendergamer arcadeic souryic discordsongic amongusgender citrusgender glitterglueaesic furrean neonaldrichgender FURIN trans man with ADHD who uses he/him, they/them, it/its, XD/XDs, beep/beeps, boops/boops, bark/barks, woof/woofs, and any food-related pronouns!

Gir's adoptive older brother is a shiny Furret from Pokemon, a strawberrycowkin cattlekin KNC platonic attraction objectum pan-omnigayflux boyliker chaosflux morningboy laughcowgender strawbivadormic fraivasic fragumcorix pinwebtigender animepinkgender hyumogu genderfrol babagameic sentiensoiric strawreshmasquishic strawbycowplushic blåhajgender unistickic cutestickeric plushgender strawbflavorin strawberrian strawbplantic strawberryfoodic strawberrymilkgender strawberrygender fraidoucreic cupcakegumic lollipipen gummybounce strawchocoaesic cherryblossomgender jellybeanflavure pinkcute cutecreature adorafaun vestivir mothearn shellmasculine mascpinkic cutestboygender boycute boycuteflux trans man with depression and anxiety who uses he/him, they/them, moo/moos, straw/berrys, and cute/cutes

Moo is best friends with their Comfee' rice cooker, Lacey, who uses she/her, he/him, and they/them pronouns!

Gir's other sibling is Wu Wu from School of Fancies, an ambiamorous demisensual pan lesbian demiromantic envirenmagicalgirl magicalyippeic magisillian osmagicalgirlic magicgirlmagicausic fablegender sumoureic magicalgirlgender kaocreamagicin magiengirlic trans girl who uses she/her, he/him, and they/them pronouns!

Wu Wu's girlfriend at her high school is Akita Neru from Fanloid, a nekokin realmpunk vesiyellow demiplatonic demisensual demiqueerplatonic demiaesthetic demiaroace demibigender tripplebakagender triplebakasongic tribakasquadic nekokinic girl who uses any pronouns except for violent ones!

Gir and shiny Furret's dad is Science Sans from Undertale AUs, a realmpunk gay biohazenic genderhazard madscientistaesic oozesinkic sciragender interfaceiac purplegreenian skullthing magimasculine monster who uses any masculine and science-related pronouns! He programmed Pellops 2 and is trying to program Lacey to talk!

dni link

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ak-vintage · 15 days

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Quarry - Chapter 12

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, second-person POV, Din Djarin POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, unresolved sexual tension, pining, canon-typical violence, peril, angst, mild possessive language, Din speaks Mando'a

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

A couple hours after sunset in the Karthakk system, Din Djarin settled himself into a booth in the back corner of a cantina. It was a dingy spot – its hard-packed dirt floors ensured that everything was coated in a fine layer of dust, cloudy liquor bottles and seedy patrons included – but that was to be expected on a backwater planet like Lok. A remote, desert planet infested with all manner of underworld scum and not much else, the fact that there were actual tables at which to sit was about the best he could have hoped for.

His quarry was one of those underworld scum, a notable Weequay smuggler called Kevok Toklelq. Over the last several days, Din had managed to narrow down his location to this district of Nym’s Stronghold, and all of the local intelligence he had gathered indicated that this nameless cantina was a popular place to do business, that anyone with any kind of pull on this world could be found exchanging credits and trading merchandise while bellied up to the bar. To the bounty hunter, it sounded like precisely the place he needed to be if he wanted to put eyes on his target.

Din had stopped in earlier to scope out the place and get a lay of the land before he made his move, and the booth he had selected was perfectly situated for his needs. From his corner, he could easily observe both the door and the bar, and the ambient orange lighting from the back bar left the edges of the establishment almost entirely in shadow, lending him an air of anonymity that otherwise might have been difficult to achieve in head-to-toe beskar’gam. As it was, all that was left for him to do was melt into those shadows and watch as the cantina filled up around him.

As he had expected, the crowd grew as the night deepened. To anyone who might have glanced his way, the Mandalorian was the picture of nonchalance, but behind the impenetrable surface of his helmet, he was focused, vigilant, intent only on finding his quarry. The crush of bodies was loud now, laughing and shouting and slinging insults over the sound of music pouring from a jukebox in the corner, but somehow Din cut through all of it. He held the image of the Weequay’s leathery, hard-eyed visage in his mind, and he waited.

So absorbed was he in this task, scanning the faces of each and every patron as they entered the bar, that he almost didn’t notice the young Twi’lek waitress approach his table.

“Evening, honey. Anything I can get for you?” she prompted. Her pale blue skin shone faintly in the dim lighting, and a warm, flirtatious smile quirked the corners of her lips.

The Mandalorian drew his head back, startled, before schooling his body language back into something closer to indifference. Leaning back into the cushion of the booth casually, he replied, “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

The girl arched an eyebrow at him. “You’ve been here a while. You sure there’s…nothing you need?”

He watched as her dark, hooded eyes traced over his form, her gaze settling on his black visor, then his shoulders, then his chest in quick succession. Her cheeks flushed in poorly-concealed interest, and Din fought the urge to fidget under her gaze.

This sort of thing happened occasionally. He knew that others found his stature appealing, that the bulk of his armor, the mystery of his helmet, and the legends of Mandalorian ferocity sometimes inspired intrigue rather than intimidation. As a younger man, he had found the attention flattering. Puzzling at times, but flattering. He certainly had been guilty of taking advantage of that interest on more than one occasion – a man had needs. But that had been years ago. It felt like a different lifetime since he last had felt the urge to indulge in that way.

It had been a life before he had anyone other than himself to consider, a life before his commitment to the Nevarro covert. A life before Grogu.

You, of course, were the glaring exception.

The bounty hunter burned for you, fierce and desperate, with an intensity that he might have found embarrassing if it weren’t so all-consuming. His control dangling by a thread that grew thinner with each passing day, there was no room left in him for shame. Even in the aftermath of your argument, the days spent in hyperspace traveling from Trevi IV to Lok had been torturous. He could hardly bear the proximity, the nearness of you – always within reach and yet never touching. Not how he wanted, how he needed. It was driving him mad.

No. If he were to have you, it would not be an indulgence. It would be…cataclysmic.

Before his thoughts could travel too far down that path, however, Din wrenched his attention back to the matter at hand. He had promised himself that he would keep you as far from his mind as possible while on this hunt. His quarry was a dangerous man. Toklelq was well-connected in the Outer Rim smuggling networks, a friend of the Pirate Nation, and a skilled fighter. It had been some time since Din had faced an opponent of this caliber; he refused to allow himself any distractions.

“Nothing, thank you. I’m waiting for a friend,” he said. The half-truth came easily, and he watched as something like disappointment colored the Twi’s expression. However, she recovered quickly and instead offered him a coy, practiced smile.

“All right, honey,” she demurred, heavy-lidded eyes giving him a final once-over. “Well, if you change your mind, you can find me at the bar. I’ll be here all night.” She slipped into the crowd then, and the bounty hunter caught himself smirking behind his visor in return. The girl’s choice of target had been off tonight, but he appreciated the tenacity.

It reminded him of you.

___

Just before midnight, Kevok Toklelq entered the cantina.

From his dim corner booth, Din watched as he swaggered through the door, a female Theelin on his arm and two other male Weequay close on his heels. He was precisely as his bounty puck had depicted him – his long hair tied back in a series of ponytails wrapped in dusky red fabric, his sharp eyes partially visible through a pair of yellow-tinted glasses, his expression cool and arrogant. With how frequently the Mandalorian had studied it over the last several days, he would recognize that face anywhere.

The group approached the bar first, appearing to order a round of drinks before seeking out a table right in the center of the venue, but their progress to their seats was slowed multiple times by Toklelq stopping to converse with other patrons. His reception, however, was mixed. Some appeared uncomfortable at the smuggler’s attention, their bodies stiff and their laughter forced as though they had hoped not to see him that night. Others, however, greeted him warmly, clasping his forearm or cuffing him on the shoulder in comradery. Din made note of each of them regardless, mentally cataloging them in his mind.

If a fight broke out while attempting to take his quarry into custody, it might be useful to know just how many enemies he would be up against.

The bounty hunter hoped that could be avoided. Teklolq, according to his research, was a known tabac smoker. At some point during the night, he would need to step outside with his pack of cigarras, and Din would follow so that any confrontation might happen outside the crowded cantina. It was possible that some of his companions might accompany him, of course, but even if he didn’t go alone, Din was confident that he could handle a handful of drunken smugglers. Now that he had eyes on his target, he needed only to wait for the right window of opportunity to strike.

Of course, nothing was ever quite so simple.

About an hour after the group in question arrived, something in the air…shifted. As though they had been waiting for some cue that only they could perceive, the Mandalorian watched with apprehension as his quarry’s companions one by one began to drift away from the table.

One of the other male Weequay was the first to leave, offering Teklolq something like a salute before ducking into the press of the surrounding crowd. He looked to be heading toward the exit, but when Din attempted to track his movements, he lost him almost immediately to the faceless mob of bodies that seemed to pack every square inch of the cantina. He never appeared by the exit, seemingly having vanished into thin air somewhere between the table and the door.

Then the Theelin woman rose from her seat. She pressed a lingering kiss to one of the many horns jutting from Teklolq’s lower jaw, and a moment later, she was gone, melting into the throng just as stealthily as her companion but in the opposite direction. Din cursed under his breath as he watched her bright orange hair be swallowed in the masses, the heat of her biosignature becoming instantly indistinguishable from the rest. Like her companion, she never reappeared.

It was only when the last of his target’s escort, the other Weequay male, kicked back from the table and rose to his feet that the bounty hunter felt a sinking sensation in his gut – the tug of his intuition, an undefinable feeling that something had truly gone awry.

On instinct alone, Din’s gaze snapped to Teklolq. If he had managed to sneak away while Din was too preoccupied with his colleagues…

But no, the smuggler had not escaped. Instead, he was staring directly back at him, meeting the Mandalorian’s eyes through the milling crowd, the dusty haze, the long, dark shadows. And he was smiling.

___

Through dimly-lit streets, down grimy alleyways, past cantinas and brothels and abandoned warehouses, Din Djarin ran.

“Razor Crest! Come in, Razor Crest!”

Streaks of blue blaster fire zinged past, lighting up the night in flashes of cold flame and splitting the atmosphere around him with the reek of ozone and carbon. One round ricocheted off his breastplate, sparking and skittering away harmlessly, barely a blip on the surface of his armor. Another flew ineffectually past the left side of his helmet, mere centimeters away from hitting its mark, but the Mandalorian didn’t so much as flinch. Yet another arced wildly and collided with a pile of crates stacked high against the side of a building, blasting it to smithereens. Scraps of wood and metal shrapnel flung into his path, crunching under the heavy pounding of his boots, pinging off his beskar.

His quarry’s aim was getting worse. And Din was gaining on him.

“Razor Crest! Come in!”

The moment he had locked eyes with Teklolq, Din had known that whatever plan he might have had to bring him in without any casualties had suddenly become obsolete. He had watched with senses on high alert as his target stood from the table and downed the remainder of his drink, and he could have sworn he saw the smuggler wink at him from behind his thick-framed, yellow-tinted glasses before making his way toward the door.

It had felt like an invitation, like a dare, and the Mandalorian felt his hackles rise instantly.

He had never backed down from a challenge in his life. He certainly wasn’t about to start now.

The night beyond the cantina was deep and dark, the streetlights in his part of Nym’s Stronghold few and far between. Din had taken one step, then two beyond the little pool of light cast by the cantina’s open doorway, and as though he had summoned them from the shadows themselves, he immediately had been met with the business end of four blasters all trained in his direction.

A Weequay thug had stared him down from each side, their bony chins jutted out in defiance, ice in their eyes. Behind him, the Theelin woman had slinked forward and waved the barrel of her compact blaster pistol inches from his shoulder blades. And with a smile still twisting his thin, hard lips, his target had emerged directly in front of him.

“I’m here for Kevok Teklolq,” the bounty hunter had said, neither raising his hands in surrender nor reaching for his blaster. “I have no quarrel with the rest of you. Lower your weapons and stand aside, and no harm will come to you.”

He hadn’t truly expected them to surrender, but he couldn’t imagine not offering the small mercy. As long as he got his quarry in the end.

As it was, three corpses lay crumpled outside the cantina now, smoking in the aftermath of his whistling birds, leaking blood into the dirt. And his quarry was several meters ahead of him, running at full tilt, dangerously close to getting away.

“Razor Crest reads you, Mando – what’s going on?”

Stars, it was good to hear your voice. You sounded groggy, as though he had pulled you from sleep, and for a reckless moment, Din allowed himself to picture you. He could see it so clearly – your cheeks flushed and your clothes mussed, your hair loose around your shoulders as you pushed it out of your face and tried to wake up enough to concentrate. The image buried itself in his chest, warm and bright, easing his breath, soothing his racing heart.

“Quarry gave me the slip. I’m in pursuit,” he panted in reply. He clutched his comm link in one hand and his blaster in the other as he returned fire, legs pumping all the harder as he tried desperately to close the distance between him and Teklolq even further. “He’s headed for the yards – he’s going to run.”

“We going after him?” you asked after a beat. The warm fuzz of sleep coloring your voice had evaporated.

He fired again at the smuggler’s retreating form, and his shot seemed to graze the outside of the other man’s thigh. Teklolq howled in pain and stumbled, but in an instant, he was on his feet again. The fumble didn’t last long enough for the Mandalorian to catch up, and still, he remained just out of range for Din to use his grappling wire or his flamethrower. Loosing a colorful curse in Mando’a, the bounty hunter jammed his thumb down on the comm link’s sending button once more.

“Absolutely.”

Your reply was quicker this time, curt and efficient. “Understood. One second – let me get to the helm…” A handful of seconds passed, and then, “Okay. Deactivating ground defenses, starting preflight checks, extending the port gangplank.”

A thrill of pride shot through him at that, making the ache in his muscles and the burn in his lungs all but disappear. Even if Teklolq made it to the shipyards, even if he somehow managed to get in the air without Din taking him out, he wouldn’t be getting away. Because Din had back-up. Din had you.

“That’s my girl.”

___

It took every ounce of strength at your disposal to keep your eyes on the flight controls, to keep your mind on the engine read-outs and your ears tuned into the sound of the port-side ramp dropping. Those words, spoken in that deep, warm voice, strained and breathless, throat tight with exertion… Those words would be your undoing if you allowed yourself even a moment to think about them.

His girl. He had called you his girl.

Goosebumps broke out across your body at how perfectly, undeniably right that felt. You were still clad in your sleep clothes, your feet bare and cold on the metal deck plating, but you had never been more awake. Your very cells responded to the phrase – the fondness, the intimacy, the possessiveness of it. You couldn’t deny that it frightened you; the idea of belonging to anyone was a tender topic. But something about it, something about the fact that it was Mando and not anyone else…

It felt safe. Natural. As easy as breathing. You were his girl, and you were so tired of pretending like you weren’t.

Before you could allow the realization to sit with you any further, however, your comm link sputtered back to life once more.

“Haar’chak!” Mando swore. Grogu, still half asleep but now strapped into one of the co-pilot chairs, whined at the sound of his guardian’s voice in distress, and you reached behind you to pat him comfortingly on the head.

“What’s your status, Mando?”

When he replied, his words came in short bursts, sharp and strained. “I have a visual on the bounty’s ship. He’s taking off. Now.”

Your hands had already found their way to the scanner controls before he had finished speaking. “What’s he flying?” you asked, taking broad readings of the entire spaceport, small though it was.

A pause, and then, “An A-24 Sleuth.”

You adjusted the scanners in response. “Dank farrik,” you murmured to yourself, this time not bothering to broadcast your concern over the comm link. You had worked on a handful of Sleuths in your career, and there were few vessels that could match them for speed and stealth. If the quarry managed to get it out of the atmosphere, the Razor Crest would have a difficult time keeping pace with it. If he made it out of the Karthakk system, Mando’s hunt would need to begin again from scratch.

As though the Crest had heard your apprehension, the scanners beeped at you, and you watched as the monitor before you shifted from a view of the surrounding spaceport to one of a long, narrow vessel about 150 meters away rising slowly into the air.

“I’ve got him on scanners,” you said into the comm link’s receiver. “How far out are you?”

A gruff, modulated exhale crackled through the connection. “…about 30 seconds.”

Even though you knew he couldn’t see you, you nodded to yourself as you ran through your mental checklist one final time. Everything was in place for a quick take-off, and you had locked the scanners onto the Sleuth so it would remain in your sights even as it began its ascent through the arid atmosphere.

“Acknowledged, we’re ready to pursue once you’re inside.”

You sat in silence for those 30 seconds, Grogu keeping vigil with you, your hand hovering anxiously over the switch that would retract the landing gear. Taking a deep breath to center yourself, you realized that you had never been in a chase like this before. Although it had barely begun, you already found it oddly exhilarating. You had never thought of yourself as someone who might enjoy being under this particular kind of pressure, but that didn’t change the fact that the racing heart behind your ribcage wasn’t unwelcome.

Did you find Mando’s job…exciting?

The sound of heavy boots thundering up the durasteel ramp and rocketing into the cargo hold interrupted that train of thought. Mando had flung himself onboard at top speed.

“I’m good, get us in the air!” he shouted from the base of the ladder – unnecessarily, as you already had it in progress. In the span of about three seconds, the twin engines turned over with a rumble, the landing gear lifted back up into the ship’s underbelly, and by the time the port gangplank had folded back into place, the Razor Crest was already making its ascent.

Mando, also, was still moving quickly. One moment, you heard him panting against the rungs of the ladder, as though he had paused to lean there for a moment and collect himself. The next, you felt his looming presence behind you, the breadth of his shoulders suddenly taking up a ridiculous amount of space in the cockpit.

You threw a glance at him over your shoulder from your perch in his pilot’s chair, your gaze tracking up and down his form, assessing, scanning for injuries. “The Sleuth just broke the atmosphere, we’re right behind him.”

Thankfully, he didn’t appear harmed, just a bit winded.

The bounty hunter nodded once, letting out a rather vocal sigh. “Well done. Keep on him,” he replied, pointing out the transparisteel viewport to where you could just barely make out the glow of the quarry’s engines against the blackness of space, growing closer by the second as the Crest followed him into orbit.

You felt your eyebrows raise in surprise. “You don’t want the helm?” you asked, gesturing vaguely to the controls spread out before you in your current seat.

“No. I think you’ve got it handled.” He dropped heavily into the other copilot chair – your favorite chair, you noticed with a thrill – and turned slightly to face his own set of knobs and switches. “Give me weapons control.”

You couldn’t fight the grin that bloomed across your face at that. “Yes, sir.”

Unfortunately, your good humor ended almost as soon as it had begun. As you began to chart a course in pursuit of the Sleuth, a glaring warning appeared on your navigational readout – an asteroid belt, stretching dense and wide across the star system, wrapping itself around the yellow sun almost exactly halfway between the system’s two habitable planets, Lok and Maramere.

In any other situation, you would have taken the Razor Crest out of its way to circumvent it. As it was, you doubted the quarry was going to take the extra time. If either of your two ships wanted to get out into open space, you were going to have go through it.

If your read-outs were correct, the quarry had come to the same conclusion. He was headed straight for the heart of the asteroid belt.

And he was powering up his weapons.

“Mando?” Apprehension colored your voice as your deflector readings spiked, dust and debris from merely the outer edges of the thing already making navigation a challenge.

“I know, I see it,” he acknowledged. “Charging blaster cannons. Follow him in.”

Your heartrate spiked at the instruction, but you obeyed all the same. You were a good pilot, you told yourself as you poured on the sublight power, closing the distance between the Crest and the Sleuth as fast as you dared. You could chase a dangerous smuggler flying one of the nimblest ships in existence through an asteroid belt and not end up splattered across the surface of a spinning hunk of rock.

Right?

You cursed colorfully as a bolt of energy exploded from the Sleuth’s aft laser cannons, missing the belly your gunship by a hairsbreadth.

“Returning fire,” Mando called out, and the Razor Crest’s twin heavy repeating blaster cannons roared to life, loosing a volley across the smuggler’s tail just as both ships breeched the asteroid belt.

And just like that, you had no more space in your mind for trepidation. There was only the Crest, the quarry, and the twisting, lurching lumps of space rock through which both of you wove.

Keep the Sleuth in sight. Don’t crash. Dodge that attack. Don’t crash. Get closer. Help Mando line up his shots. Give him a nice, wide window. Don’t crash.

Don’t. Crash.

You felt yourself sink into your body, your grip firm and sure on the joysticks, controlling your pitch and your altitude and your speed through intuition and muscle memory. You blocked out everything else, allowing all other thoughts and sensations to roll off of you like rainwater on a leaf. A part of you wondered if this was how Mando felt when he was in combat – if he could feel all his other thoughts vacating his brain and leaving him only with what he needed in that exact moment, what had been trained into him since he was a child. Just him and his weapons, an extension of his body, doing what they were best at.

In that moment, the Razor Crest was an extension of your body. And it was beautiful.

The Sleuth careened through the slalom at breakneck speeds, firing round after round, landing some, missing others. You kept the Razor Crest on its tail as though the two ships were connected by a wire, following every arc, every dive, every spin. From his position behind you, Mando gave as good as he got – firing the blaster cannons at every opportunity, wearing down the quarry’s shields blow by blow – and Grogu simply giggled, his hands in the air as though enjoying the dips and banks like an amusement park ride.

It seemed to you that you might be evenly matched, that this battle might be decided not by skill or agility or firepower but by one party simply waiting for the other to make a mistake. But as the density of the asteroids around you started to thin, as both ships drew closer to coming out on the other side, it became apparent that the quarry had been holding out on you. The moment it was not quite so taxed by its own maneuvering, the Sleuth released a deluge of laser fire.

The Razor Crest shook with the impact, nearly sending you out of your chair and throwing Grogu against his seatbelts before the artificial gravity could compensate for the disruption, and an alarm sounded on the console to your left.

Your deflector shields had suffered heavy damage. The ones mounted to the front of your port engine had been completely knocked out. One more shot and –

The Sleuth fired again, and you banked the ship sharply to the right to try to avoid it, but it wasn’t enough. The shot landed, and your felt the Crest shudder and seize.

“Direct hit to the port engine,” Mando warned, his voice tight. Grogu cooed worriedly in response.

“Shit,” you swore. Something not unlike rage burned in your chest at the sight of smoke streaming behind the ship – your ship – as you banked again to avoid another volley, this time to the left.

“How’s she looking?”

Your attention darted briefly to the engine readouts, the ones you knew like you knew the veins on the back of your hand, the ones you had worked so hard during your first weeks aboard the Razor Crest to optimize. It had been damn fine work. And now it was smoking.

You wanted to punch someone.

“Output is down 47 percent,” you replied after a moment. “I can compensate, but if we take another hit like that, I’ll have to take it offline or risk overloading the reactor.”

The Crest wasn’t designed to run on one engine. Redirecting power from other systems to the reactor was a stop-gap measure. It might be what you needed to give Mando enough time to take out the Sleuth, but…

“Bring us in closer,” the Mandalorian ordered. “I have an idea.”

Your eyes widened, and you fought the urge to glare over your shoulder at him incredulously. Getting much closer to the other ship than you already were was a risky move. One erratic choice, one unpredictable dive or spin by the Sleuth could mean a collision. The margin for error was miniscule. Did he know what he was asking? Did he know just how much he was gambling?

Even in the fraction of a second that it took you to process that thought, it was as though Mando could sense your indecision. “Just trust me, cyare,” he added, his words curt but not unkind.

Of course, you did, and he knew it. Just like he knew that saying so would spur you forward. Banishing your worries from your mind, you poured on the power, and the Razor Crest shot forward. The aft end of the Sleuth dominated the view out of the cockpit, drowning out the surrounding blackness of space. You squinted against the glare of its engines, suddenly so close you swore you could almost see inside them.

“Be ready,” Mando quipped, and before you could ask what for, the twin blaster cannons flared to life, and a thick, black plume of smoke exploded from the Sleuth’s engines.

You didn’t think – you simply reacted. White-knuckle gripping the joystick controls, you pulled back hard, effectively throwing on the brakes and sending the Crest careening upward before it could run right into the quarry’s now-limping vessel.

“Direct hit,” you confirmed, bringing the ship back around again. Satisfaction had a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you skimmed through the scanner readings displayed in front of you. “His engine nacelles are ruptured. He’s lost light speed capabilities, and he’s leaking coolant. He’s going down.”

You felt Mando’s sharp nod behind you. “He’ll try for an emergency landing on Maramere.”

Your eyes skipped to your navigational readouts, doing a few quick calculations in your head. “…Confirmed, Sleuth is adjusting course for Maramere. He’s coming in hot.”

“Follow him down,” the bounty hunter ordered. “If he somehow manages to touch down on a land mass, I want to be right behind him.”

Quirking your brow, you risked a glance at him, meeting his glinting black visor with your gaze. “A land mass?” you echoed.

“Maramere is almost completely aquatic.”

You swallowed thickly at the thought. How terrifying that would be – to evade capture only then to crash land into a never-ending ocean, your ship helpless against the crush of the waves as you sank beneath the surface.

You couldn’t lie to yourself. You had found the chase thrilling, and the surge of gratification you had felt at the sight of the Sleuth diving hard toward Maramere, belching black smoke and glowing with the unforgiving friction of the planet’s atmosphere, had been almost addictive. It was an incredible rush, escaping your own destruction, watching someone else’s.

You didn’t want this man to die…did you?

A wave of nausea rolled over you, but you tamped it down, forcing those thoughts as far away as you could manage. The Razor Crest. That was where your focus was needed now. You could reckon with your own morality later.

You plotted a descent pattern just behind the Sleuth’s, modulating your angle just enough to reduce the drag from the atmosphere without widening the gap between the two ships. As the old gunship dropped into the mesosphere, you turned your attention to the navigational computer.

“Based on his current approach speed and trajectory, he’s going to crash…here,” you said, gesturing for Mando to peek over your shoulder at the monitor before you. “On land, but barely. It looks like an archipelago in the northern hemisphere.” On the topographical map the ship’s computer had generated, a sparse chain of islands freckled the surface of the never-ending sea.

The bounty hunter studied the readout for a moment then nodded once. “When he does, see if you can put us down about 100 meters from the crash site. I’ll need to go see if I can pull anything from the wreckage as proof of death.”

“You think…” The words caught in your throat, and you coughed into your fist to clear it. “You think the impact will kill him, then? Even if he doesn’t land in the water?”

He seemed to weigh his response carefully before he spoke, but when he did, his voice was calm, matter-of-fact. “With the speed he’s dropping in at, I think he’d be lucky to make it to the surface in one piece, let alone when he hits the ground.” He met your gaze then, really looking at you for the first time since he came barreling back onto the ship. “This will be the first time I’ve brought in a dead quarry since you’ve been with me. You doing okay?”

The unexpected question made you smile faintly, and your heart throbbed in your chest with fondness for this man, somehow continuing to surprise you with his kindness even all these months later. “Honestly, I’m not sure,” you replied. “I think I am okay. Which admittedly is freaking me out a little. I’m trying not to think about it too hard.”

A breathy, rasping sound, unmistakably a laugh, filtered through Mando’s helmet at that. “I appreciate the honesty,” he chuckled.

Before you could speak on it any further, however, an alarm blared from the console to your right, and the monitor for the navigational computer switched from a birds-eye view of the archipelago to a live feed of the Sleuth. It had lost several panels of its hull on the way down through the atmosphere, its engine chassis were still spewing black filth in a stream behind it, and its thrusters were coughing and sputtering as the quarry tried to keep it in the air as long as possible.

The island chain was in view now, but only barely. It was the middle of the night on Maramere, the ocean waves were high and wild, and it was pouring rain. The only thing that indicated that you were anywhere near land was the silhouette of tall, dense trees against the black sky, outlined in cloudy moonlight, and they were getting bigger with every moment that passed.

“30 seconds to impact,” you said, your eyes jumping between the scanner readouts and viewport.

The Sleuth wobbled dangerously, its underbelly dragging along the tops of the trees of one island, sending splinters of wood and vegetation spraying everywhere, overshooting its first landing attempt, heading for the next island over.

“20 seconds. 10.”

Durasteel scraps and engine oil poured into the choppy water, and just as it passed over the rocky shoreline of the next closest island, the Sleuth’s thrusters flickered out one final time.

Your heart in your throat, you watched through the rain-streaked cockpit window as the quarry’s vessel dropped the final few feet out of the sky and burst into flames.

Behind you, you heard Mando release a breath. Grogu, however, was silent. “100 meters from the crash site,” the bounty hunter reiterated. His tone was inscrutable, somewhere between relief and resignation. “See if you can keep us upwind of the fire.”

You nodded once in acknowledgement and adjusted your grip on the flight controls, throwing on the reverse thrusters to bring the Crest into a gentle drop. The ship’s headlights combined with the column of flame rising from the remains of the Sleuth illuminated the island’s coastline enough that you were able to make the landing by sight even with the rain, and suddenly, what had begun as one of the more thrilling experiences of your life had come to a rather somber ending.

However, as the Razor Crest’s landing gear finally touched down on the jagged, rocky surface of the shoreline, a flash of movement from the decimated vessel caught your eye.

“Wait. Mando, is that – ” You gestured for the Mandalorian to follow your gaze, pointing emphatically out the viewport.

And it was. The dark silhouette of a man – hunched over oddly and limping but very much alive, tumbling from the flames onto the gravel below.

“He survived,” Mando breathed, seemingly unable to look away, his gaze locked forward as he watched the injured quarry stagger to his feet, tamp out a fire on the shoulder of his flight jacket, and begin stumbling toward the tree line. “The skanah is still fucking running.”

The bounty hunter lurched to his feet then, moving out of the cockpit and down the ladder with a swiftness that made him almost impossible to follow. You tried anyway, and although Grogu squealed from his seat strapped into the copilot’s chair, you paid him no heed. You would come right back for him. And if you didn’t, at least you knew he would be safe there until either you or Mando made it back –

By the time you made it down into the cargo hold, Mando had already flung open his weapons cabinet and was arming himself to the teeth – additional blaster cartridges threaded into his bandolier, thermal detonators added to his utility belt. Once he was satisfied with his load-out, he gave his blaster a quick once-over and brought his fist down on the control panel next to the rear exit, bringing out the gangplank.

You didn’t wait for his request or his approval. Instead, you simply darted over to the bunk where you had left your brown cargo pants in a crumpled pile on the floor. You roughly tugged them up over your hips, zipping them closed over your sleep shorts and shoving your bare feet into your boots as quickly as you could manage. When you reached into the weapons cabinet to grab your own blaster, however, you felt a gloved hand clamp around your wrist.

“No. Stay on the ship,” the Mandalorian commanded, and you felt your eyebrows fly to meet your hairline.

“What if you need back-up?” you replied, refusing to drop your hand. “This guy is slippery, Mando, maybe if there’s two of us – ”

“What? You’ll shoot him, gotabor’ika? Hm?”

Your cheeks burned at the not-so-subtle taunt, and you yanked your wrist out of his grip. “Look, as far as I’m concerned, we’re in this one together now, and that man is dangerous. You can’t just go out there in the dark on your own – ”

“I don’t have time to argue with you,” he growled, crowding into your space, forcing you to tilt your chin up if you wanted to keep your eyes on his visor. “You will stay. On. The. Ship. That’s how this works. I capture the bounties. You protect my kid.”

You faltered a bit at the mention of Grogu, who you could still hear whining in the cockpit, and it was as though the bounty hunter could see your resolve beginning to buckle. You might have begun to protest again, but it hardly mattered. Holding your eye contact with an intensity that ought to have been intimidating, Mando closed the remaining distance between you and brought his hand to the side of your neck, and with demanding force, he tucked his orange-tipped thumb under your jaw and angled your face to up his. You felt your breath leave your lungs at the contact, but before you could even begin to process it, he was resting the forehead of his helmet against yours.

The beskar was cold against your heated skin. Your eyelids fluttered of their own accord, almost closing completely as your heartrate spiked. The warmth of his body bled into yours, and you found yourself bringing your own hands up to clutch at his breastplate lest your knees suddenly give out from under you. He’d never touched you like this before – with intention, with such single-minded focus and something not unlike desperation boiling under the surface.

“Please. Promise me,” Mando whispered, and you swore that you could hear not only the modulated version of his voice through his helmet but also his real voice, his natural voice, like an echo that would have been lost had you not been so impossibly close. “Keep yourself safe. Keep Grogu safe. My sweet, fierce girl.”

You swallowed heavily and fought the urge to allow your eyes slide closed, to permit yourself to simply savor this moment for as long as he would allow it. Instead, you brought your fingers up to his neck, threading them through the folds of his cape, the high neck of his cowl. Stars, he was so warm there – so vital and real and alive.

You wondered then if he knew what this did to you. If he knew you would do anything he asked if only he asked you like this, with this body pressed against yours, his hands on your skin.

A moment of silence stretched between you, marked only by the sound of your breaths and his, both heavy and labored.

“Fine,” you said, digging your fingers into the back of his neck with an urgency you couldn’t disguise. “But you have to keep yourself safe, too. Keep yourself safe…for me.”

You felt him gulp beneath your touch, his throat working against your fingertips in a way that made you blush. “I’ll do everything I can, cyare.” He took a deep breath, his chest expanding against yours, and then, “If I’m not back by sunrise – ”

“Don’t,” you murmured, biting back a whimper at the thought. You knew he couldn’t promise you anything. You knew every time he walked out the door, he took his life into his own hands. But you couldn’t bear the thought…

“It’s all right,” you said. “Go. We’ll be here when you get back.”

Maker, how many times had you watched this man leave you? How many times had you prayed to every deity ever imagined in the cosmos that he would return to you, safe?

Why was this time so much harder?

You couldn’t make your hands release him. He had to take the first step back.

Releasing his grip on your neck, he almost threw his body away from yours, increasing the space between you like he was ripping off a bandage. You stayed rooted to the spot as he backed out of the cargo hold, as he retreated into the pouring rain and the blackness beyond, and giving you one last, long look, the Mandalorian drew his blaster from the holster at his hip and ran off, disappearing into the forest beyond the shoreline.

___

Mando'a Translations:

beskar'gam - armor haar'chak - damn it! cyare - beloved skanah - a very hated person, on the same level as calling someone a "fucker"

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

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gloomforrestrunes · 1 month

Note

hi im too shy 2 comment on youtube i hope its okay here ^__^ sorry for typos

thoughts on the nym video:

first of all, I think nex is going to justify his actions with 'well YOU would have done the same/we all have the capacity to react like that' etc basically saying that laxo has some sort of Evil inside him--or that hes jsut as bad for witnessing. Basically falseley comparing the two. it seems like he has more kills due, and maybe he shows them off to laxo because he's proud, and it quickly becomes a way to traumatise him into being more malleable ig. but laxo being in kane's village throws a wrench in his, because even though his experiences make it hard for laxo to truly relate to them, they're still showing him that ot everybody is like nex--kane especially showing him that romantic relationships don't have to be terrifying and violent (even if that takes a while). they basically undo nex's conditioning of laxo which is probably why we might see nex suddenly escalate his behaviour during the first arc in a depserate attempt to tether laxo to him (and also bc of added confidence from completing the ritual)

but what i really want tot talk about is the second half. in the image cycle (?) 3 of them show fresh wounds from laxo-- and he steadily gets angrier, as if he slowly realsing that wait, this is bad/i deserve better! .however the last image has no visible wounds wih a horrified expression, the half moon incident. showing the audience that nex can escalate even further and it's somehow more horrifying, horror is very effective when the audience has to imagine what happened, as is the case with the video (though we've had hints). we've seen in other videos that the half moon incident seems to be the point of no return for laxo,as he kills vis afterwards and gets banished, we also see a stark change in his demeanour, he seems a lot more hopeless. We don;t know if nex meant for that to happen but i'm certain the end result ( laxo in the dark realm) was at least planned, or hoped for. vis being involved is interesting-- did he attack laxo to spite nex? did he enable nex to do what he did and become a danger to laxo through that?

anyways this all leads in to laxo being the executioner (of some sort) in the dark realm (at least is my theory) nex basically pressures laxo into being complacent with violence until escalating it to be laxoa ctually comitting violence, so that he can keep him tethered with ' well look! youre JUST as bad as me! don't be a hypocrite! see we're perfect together, do you think 'good' people would want you?'

obviously nex has misunderstood laxo discovering he deserved beter through witnessing others as laxo NEEDING others to feel that, so laxo fortunately still manages to escape the dark realm.

sorry this is so brief i didnt want to make too many assumptions so i tried to keep to what we've been shown x(

WOAH what an analysis! i wont confirm nor deny anything as of now but im very impressed at how much you got from that little video!

#ask #anon #analysis #theories #abuse mention

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potassium-pilot · 8 months

Text

FFXIVWrite 2023, Prompt 1: Envoy

"Oh, are we close?" Surito Carito asked, the tiny tonberry trying to lift himself against the edges of the ship to see the surroundings. Behind him, Dia gave a boost so he could see.

"Wow", he breathed. "I'm only sorry that my memory is failing me in the geography of my time. This place is breathtaking." Lily appeared at his side to join him in looking.

"So this is Old Sharlayan", Alka Zolka commented. "I admit, I'm a bit overdue for coming here. Ever since they opened their borders to adventurers, I had been meaning to visit."

"Me too", Setoto spoke up. "I simply can't believe they would allow a tonberry to speak in a place like this."

"Well, I admit I pulled a few favors, but Scholarch Montichaigne seemed positively tickled by the idea of having someone who lived in the era of Nym come and speak on its behalf", Dia explained. "I can also tell you with certainty that no small amount of students want to hear about it. There's a lot of historians here and they are all very curious about what happened to the nation."

"And none of them are going to try and kill me, correct?" Surito asked. "I saw the looks that the Limsan citizenry gave us. Had it not been you protecting me, I'm certain I would have been set upon ere I set foot on the ship."

"So long as you stick by me, you'll be safe." Dia pulled a box nearby so Surito could stand on it. "Now just keep looking at the ocean."

The ship made its way to Scholar's Harbor slowly but surely. Around 10AM, it docked and allowed its passengers to depart. Dia, Surito, Setoto, and Alka Zolka made their way towards customs and arrived to the lalafell woman who presided over it. She took the names and professions of Alka Zolka and Setoto, who simply stated that they were scholars of Nymian history.

"And your name?" She asked of the tonberry.

"Surito Carito"

"And your profession?"

"I am a scholar."

"Of what field?"

Surito seemed confused. "Er, simply a scholar, madam. A member of the Nymian Royal Marines."

The official raised her eyebrow slowly. "Er...why would we need a soldier here?"

Dia shook her head. "Forgive him. He's an envoy of the former nation of Nym, here to give a lecture on its history and culture. There should have been a form explaining his special circumstances sent to you by the Studium."

"There is, yes. I simply need to confirm his name and profession as is listed here. At any rate, all appears to be in order, and you are all granted permission to enter Sharlayan at your leisure. Welcome."

With that, Dia guided the three of them away from the gazebo and into Sharlayan proper. As they walked, all of them noticed as eyes gawked at the creature walking about the city. Some even ran at the sight of Surito's waddle.

"Oh dear...", Surito whispered.

"Don't worry. They are merely ignorant. This is why you're here, is it not? To inform", Alka Zolka tried to reassure.

"Surely, it won't be too long until people begin to understand", Setoto concluded.

Even with their encouragement, Surito kept as close to Dia as he could. As he said, when people saw the ex-Warrior of Light leading the tonberry, they knew better than to try and interfere. Finally, they arrived at the new headquarters of Baldesion Annex, where Dia arranged rooms for them all to stay. Upon the doors opening, Ojika formed a big smile. "Ah, Dia! I'm glad to see you and your friends have safely-- EEK!"

Surito jumped at the shriek of the lalafellan innkeeper. Dia scowled. "Yes, he's a tonberry. No, he does not have a stabby death awaiting you. His name is Surito Carito, and he's a guest lecturer, so I'd appreciate you not screaming at him."

"How do you do?" Surito greeted nervously.

"S-sorry. I've never seen one up close before. I've never even heard of one that could talk before."

"They don't, usually", Surito explained. "Dia here helped break me out of the trance that traps all of my brethren in a state of perpetual violence."

"Oh?"

"If you want to learn more, I'd recommend sitting in on his lecture", Setoto encouraged. "It's tomorrow at 11AM."

Ojika looked up to Dia, who nodded in affirmation. "I think I can make the time for that. Why don't I show you all to your rooms?" With that, the three were led to their quarters for the evening. Upon reaching Surito's quarters, Dia and Surito couldn't help but hear footsteps running towards them. Upon the turn of their heads, they spotted a red-haired miqo'te rushing them.

"Dia!" G'raha exclaimed happily. "Always glad to see you." He looked down and noticed the tonberry, making a curious look form on his face. "Er...Dia?" G'raha darted his eyes down in Surito's direction.

Dia looked down to her scholar companion. "Go on. Introduce yourself. I know him; you'll be safe."

Surito cleared his throat. "Hello there. My name is Surito Carito, one of the last scholars of Nym and one of the last members of the Nymian Royal Marines."

G'raha's jaw remained wide open and he gawked at the marine in shock. "I...I'm pleased to meet you. G'raha Tia, at your service."

"Forgive me, but you are a miqo'te, are you not?"

"I am."

"I've never met one before today. Ah, this day has been full of new experiences."

"Much the same for me", G'raha agreed, "I've never met a tonberry before today."

Surito's face squinted in happiness. "I hope you'll be one of the attendees for my lecture tomorrow morning."

"A lecture?" G'raha looked up to Dia, who nodded. "Well, I can certainly try to make time for something like that. What is your lecture on, exactly?"

"Nymian culture and history."

"Considering your interest in Allagan history, I think you'd be interested in a society that took full advantage of Allagan summoning arts to mold into the tactics of the Nymian scholar", Dia pointed out.

"That would be interesting, yes. Even without it, I must admit I know little and less of the nation."

Surito nodded. "Then may I see you there." With that, Surito hopped up to reach the doorknob, opened it, and let himself into his room. G'raha, still reeling from the idea that he just met a tonberry that didn't want to stab him mercilessly, merely blinked.

"You all right?" Dia asked.

"I...have a lot of misconceptions I need to clear up", he admitted.

"Everyone does. That's why he's here", Dia smiled. "Oh, did you have plans for lunch?"

"Not a single one", he lied, having initially intended on using it to do some research on the Twelve.

"Then you should join us. I intend to take everyone to the Last Stand. I was going to ask Krile too."

"I'd love that! I'll see you then."

A few hours pass, Dia using the time to help Krile with her research, telling her about her own, and listening to Krile vent about the difficulties of restarting the Students of Baldesion. As the stroke of 1 in the afternoon, Krile declared, "Now might be a good time for a break, do you not agree?"

"I couldn't agree more. Let me fetch everyone and we can go to lunch." Dia left Krile's study and gathered Alka and Setoto. Upon arriving to Surito's room, Dia knocked.

"Who is it?" Surito asked.

"A ghost. Thought I might haunt you a bit, just for kicks."

"Come in, Dia."

She opened the door and smiled at Surito. "We're heading for the Last Stand for lunch. You're in for a treat. It's the only restaurant with remotely edible food in Sharlayan."

"Oh...I'm fine here, thank you."

"Surito?" Alka asked. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing at all. I just believe it might be better if I just kept to my room during my stay."

"Oh none of that, Surito! We want you there", Setoto protested.

"I don't wish to scare anyone again."

Dia breathed a sigh from her nose. "Come on, you two."

The three left the room, Surito using his solitude to try and practice his lecture. About twenty minutes in, his door burst open and a crowd of people flocked in. "Hope you're decent!" Dia laughed.

"Oh! What is this?" Surito exclaimed.

"This is lunch. You're eating it one way or another", DIa insisted. "I've brought G'raha along and our host."

"Hello. You must be Surito Carito. My name is Krile Baldesion. I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"Hello to you, Krile. Thank you for your hosting my compatriots and I. You're quite possibly the most welcoming presence I've encountered here."

Krile frowned. "Dia told me of Ojika screaming at the sight of you. I apologize for him. I'm afraid that while I informed him of a guest speaker coming to stay with us, I failed to inform him of what to expect of you. I apologize for his conduct."

"It's of no consequence. At least he didn't run at the sight of me like some of the people I've encountered today."

Dia placed lunch on his table. "Well, let's forget about them and get some food in our bellies. Come on up."

The five sat around the table, G'raha in the middle surrounded by Dia and Krile on one side, and Setoto surrounded by Alka and Surito on the other. Dia handed Surito an Archon burger. "You'll love it!"

"So, Surito, what inspired you to come and give a lecture in Sharlayan?" Krile asked.

"In truth, I have been looking for how to revive the art of the Nymian Scholar for some time now that we have a cure for the plague in our grasp."

"Plague?" G'raha repeated.

"Yes. You can see its effect on people by looking at me, and you can see that the cure works with one look at Setoto here." G'raha and Krile snapped their attentions to Setoto, who smiled at them proudly. "You're Nymian?" G'raha exclaimed.

"I am. You wouldn't be able to tell with one look at me, but I am one of the few students of the art left. Were it not for Dia, Alka, Surito, and the work of my father, we may not be speaking today."

Dia smiled as she chewed. Upon swallowing, she added, "We had discussed it for a while and agreed that the best way to try and keep things going was to utilize modern day historians. Montichaigne seemed to rather like the idea."

"I don't blame him in the least", Krile commented amusedly. "This is the first lecture of its kind- a discussion from a citizen of a society long thought to be dead."

After the remainder of their time was spent listening to Krile picking Surito's brain on history, the five stood up and went their separate ways for the evening.

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

The morning dawned on Sharlayan. Surito awoke and rose from his bed before he scrambled to find his notes. Upon finding them and reading them through, he heard a knock at his door.

"Who is it?"

"Remember that ghost from yesterday? She said you owed her 20 gil, so I'm here to collect."

"Come in, Dia."

She opened the door and entered alongside yet another new face.

"Oh...hello...", Surito greeted hesitantly.

"Hello", she greeted back warmly. "My name is Ameliance Leveilleur, a good friend of Dia's. I understand you're to give a lecture in the Studium today, is this correct?"

"I am. My name is Surito Carito. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"As am I. If you're going to give a lecture here in Sharlayan, however, we thought it best if you might look the part." Ameliance reached into her inventory and pulled out a small, white Sharlayan robe, sized for a lalafell. "What do you think?"

"That...would be lovely. I wish I knew what to say...thank you, I..."

"But of course. Go ahead and change into it for me."

Upon the two looking away, Surito changed into the white robe and looked in the mirror.

"It looks nice."

They looked back and judged for themselves. "It does", Dia affirmed, "Although it is a little big..."

"That much, we can change. If you wouldn't mind helping me with adjustments, Dia, we can get started."

After an hour preparing the robe to fit him, they looked upon their handiwork proudly. "Now that's a Sharlayan."

"Don't worry; we can hang the Scholar armor on a mannequin and show it off that way", Dia suggested.

"I would like that. It's important for Scholars to have the appropriate gear", Surito reminded her to Dia's amusement.

"Now that we have you dressed up, why don't we show it off, hm?" Ameliance suggested.

"I...I don't know."

"The only way people will get used to seeing you is to see you. The more people that see you walking peacefully with Ameliance and I, the better", Dia reminded him.

He took a deep breath and braced himself. "All right. Let's go."

With that, the three escorted Surito out of his chambers and led him around town. To his shock, fewer people seemed outright horrified at the sight of him as they walked around town. Some even cooed at the sight of him in their robes, like they would a child. He wasn't sure if that was any better.

After enjoying a leisurely walk about the city-state, they arrived at the Studium where they were directed to the lecture hall. Upon opening the doors, he was surprised at the amount of attendants that had already gathered, and the event wasn't due to start for another fifteen minutes. He sat in a chair on the side alongside Dia, Lily on his shoulder, Alka and Setoto (the latter having arrived about ten minutes before Dia and Ameliance did) and stared at the crowd of students.

Surito had a flash of memory. Nymian universities that trained young people all had their own robes to don in uniformity. They would gather and discuss, await the professors before they would start their work. They would ask all sorts of questions, pose theories, discuss history, magic, current affairs of the time, spend countless hours writing papers and preparing arguments. They would laugh together, they would cry together, bemoan assignments together, and cheer in triumph in their accomplishments together.

To see these young minds carrying on such similar traditions warmed his heart. It hit him in this moment that no Calamity, no apocalypse, and no tragedy in the world would ever dim a curious mind.

The hour drew nigh for the lecture to begin. Surito walked up to the podium that was adjusted for his stature and looked out to the crowd, who all looked to Surito to pay him heed. As he looked upon the faces of these students, he could see them- his classmates, his former teachers; he was back in his element.

He took a deep breath and spoke aloud.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #surito carito #alka zolka #setoto seto #g'raha tia #krile baldesion #f elezen wol #ojika tsunjika #fanfiction #she's hanging w her scholar buddies #and support them to the death dammit

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digital-corruption · 2 years

Text

⚠️ Trigger warning: Drug use, rape threat, violence, and mild death.

Unrecognisable Part 41

When I came to, my head throbbed in pain. I weakly pulled myself up, feeling very dizzy and disconnected with reality. My head was absolutely pounding. It took me a while to realise that I had been left with my face in a white powder. I wiped my nose and saw the powder on my hand, suddenly remembering it was cocaine. Fuck, I had no idea how much I inhaled while unconscious, but I definitely had some in my system. I looked around, trying to work out what happened while I was unconscious. Things were all in a disarray around me. There was broken glass and blood on the table and floor beside me. Clearly there had been a fight. Then it hit me that the repetitively pounding sound wasn’t just in my head, but also coming through the other side of the room. I peeked over the back of the sofa and saw Cyan’s groupies were holding Jake up while Cyan beat into his abdomen. Cyan himself had a few cuts and bruises. Blood was running down the side of his face. It didn’t take a master detective to know what happened while I was unconscious.

However, they were so occupied with Jake that they didn’t realise I had woken up. Jake glanced up and saw me looking at him in horror, but he kept a straight face as he took the next hit. I contemplated causing a distraction, but if they had managed to restrain Jake while he raged at them, a distraction wouldn’t be enough. Unless it was a big distraction. No, a huge fucking distraction with guns and explosions. It was crazy, but I pulled out my phone and did the one thing I could think of. I went to the police’s website and filed a simple, anonymous report.

<<Nym-0s is at the rave in Colville. He’s got a gun, send help quickly!>>

Adding the address for good measure, I hit submit and put my phone away. Glancing to the side I noticed a broken bottle. I grabbed it just in case and ducked behind the lounge. How long would it take before they were swarming the building? Normal police would easily take 20 to 30 minutes, but Jake’s pursuers? They should be scrambling a helicopter right away, right? Just a bit longer, Jake. I was so consumed in anticipation that I hadn’t noticed Cyan stopped hitting Jake and was hovering over me.

“Boo!” he smiled.

“Stay away from me!” I swung the bottle at him.

“So feisty!” he laughed.

He slapped my face hard with the back of his hand, then kicked the bottle out of my hand. In one fell swoop he grabbed my arm, pulled me to my feet and over to Jake, who looked on with panic on his face. Jake yelled out in German something fierce. I could only imagine the death threats he was shouting. Cyan grabbed my jaw and kissed my lips forcefully. I bit his lip hard, drawing blood. He punched my stomach, which caused me to vomit suddenly. I fell to the ground as my stomach emptied. Cyan yelled something in German to one of the others and they handed him a needle.

“No, no!” My eyes widened in fear it was a paralytic.

“You need breaking in, bitch,” Cyan said as he readied the needle.

“You fucking asshole! I will gut you alive and let the rats feast on your intestines!” Jake yelled.

“Get the Devil’s Breath for that one!” Cyan ordered his subordinate.

“You wouldn’t,” the colour drained from Jake’s face.

“Why would I get my hands dirty when I can get you to do it for me?” Cyan shrugged.

“No amount of Devil’s Breath would ever make me hurt her,” Jake growled.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Cyan smirked to Jake. Then he turned back to his subordinates, “Come on!? What’s taking so long? Ugh, we’ll just have to start without it. Pick her up.”

I needed to stall out the injection for as long as possible. No matter what was in the needle, I knew it would hinder my ability to escape the oncoming raid. My mind struggled to come up with ideas on how to stall out, but it was too hard to think straight. One of the subordinates came up behind me and lifted me to my feet forcefully. With one hand holding my arm painfully behind my back, he put his arm around my neck in a choke hold. I was running out of time, in a panic, I said the only thing I could think of.

“They’re coming! His pursuers are coming!” I announced. “Either you get out now, or you’ll get caught in the crossfire!”

“You’re lying,” Cyan frowned. “You wouldn’t do something as stupid as revealing his location.”

“Am I? It sounds like you don’t know me like at all. I took on a legend and won!” I smiled.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Cyan laughed.

“It means she’s capable of doing the most unexpected shit possible,” Jake grinned. “Good job, MC.”

“Clock’s ticking. This place will be swarming with SWAT soon,” I smiled.

“Then I’ll just hand you two fucking idiots over!” Cyan shrugged. “And I’ll take the reward money while I am at it!

“With all the drugs you have on display here? You’ll be going down with us,” I bluffed.

Cyan’s eyes twitched as he glared at me. He was still unsure whether he should take my threat seriously or not. “Where’s the fucking Devil’s Breath!?”

“Tick, tick, tick,” Jake mocked. “Boom!”

As if on cue, the music cut off and the house lights were turned on. There was a loud bang and screams from the floor below. Cyan looked over his shoulder and waved to his thugs to guard the stairs.

“You really are fucking psychotic!” Cyan yelled as he walked off. “Tie them up! Let the police find their prizes!”

While my captor was distracted by the noise downstairs, I bit his arm and squirmed out of his hold. There were more explosions from the bottom floor as it erupted in chaos during which Jake got of his captors’ hold. Meanwhile I grabbed the broken bottle from the floor and turned just as my captor went to grab me again. I thrusted my arm out and plunged the broken glass into his stomach. He revealed back in surprise, but before he could retaliate, Jake came up behind him and snapped his neck.

“Come on! We have to go!” Jake grabbed my hand and pulled me up to my feet.

“Where are we going to go?” I panicked as Jake led us to the far end of the floor. There was brief gunfire on the stairs behind us between Cyan’s men and the special ops team. “I didn’t really think this part through!”

“The roof!” Jake yelled.

Sure enough at the far end of the floor there was a door marked “Roof Access”. I had to wonder if he knew it was there or if he found it by sheer luck. We went through the door, ran up the stairs and exited onto the roof. Of course there were multiple helicopters circling the area, but as they were focused on the fleeing crowds, they hadn’t noticed us running along the top. Jumping, climbing and leaping across from one roof to the next, we covered a great distance before we reached an alley between buildings. There was no way across, but no way down either.

“I’ll jump first. Don’t jump until I signal!” Jake ran back.

“Wait, what? We’re not going to jump off the roof are we?” I questioned.

“Of course not! We’re going to jump to the next building!” he laughed.

I surveyed the situation. The alley was narrow, but the next building was still a good distance away. The roof was lower than ours, but even so making that jump would be a miracle.

“There’s no fucking away we can reach that!” I exclaimed.

Jake ran back a few paces, then ran full speed to the end of the building and flung himself across the gap. At first I was impressed, I thought he would clear it no problem, but he ended up hitting the end of the roof into his chest and had to make a mad scramble to get up.

“Oh fuck no! There’s no way I can do that!” I cried out.

“You’re lighter than me! You can do it!” Jake yelled from the other side of the alley.

Whether it was the fear of being caught or the drugs in my system lowering my inhibitions, I took a few steps back and ran to the edge. As soon as I reached the edge and leapt into the area, I prayed for any wind god to provide me just enough lift to get across the gap. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t make it, but Jake grabbed my arms as I impacted on the side of the building. He grunted loudly and pulled me up just enough so I could pull myself the rest of the way.

“Can. We. Never. Do. That. Again!?” I stressed as I tried to regain my breath.

“We’re not in the clear yet, we have to keep moving,” Jake said as he stood up. He winced in pain as he leant over to give me a hand.

“Are you ok?” I panicked.

“Yeah, just a few bruised ribs now more bruised,” he laughed it off. “Come on, let’s go.”

I followed Jake as he trailblazed across the next uneven roof. At the far end we found a set of exterior fire escape stairs. Carefully we lowered ourselves down to them, then ran down the metal steps back down to the street level.

“Ugh, solid ground, I’ll never tire of you,” I fought the urge to kiss the pavement.

A helicopter flew past overhead, reminding us that we still had a great distance to go before we could rest.

“We could try to get back to our hideout,” I suggested.

“No, it’s too far. We need to get under cover now and wait out the ‘copters,” Jake went up to the adjoining building and examined the electronic lock on it. “Come here.”

“What?” I walked up beside him. He rubbed his finger over my cheek and smeared the lingering cocaine over the keypad. “Hey!”

“At least it was good for something,” he laughed. After a few attempts at the passcode, he unlocked the door, “Easy peasy!”

“Were you really going to stand there and brute force it?” I remarked.

“Without my equipment, you think I had an easier way to do that?” he raised his eyebrow as he held the door open for me.

I went in and immediately pulled out my phone to illuminate the inside. Like many of the buildings around us, it was empty and dusty. Jake pushed past with his phone and explored further into the building.

“Over here, this room has no windows,” he called out.

I followed him into the room. Judging by the old, weathered desk in the middle of the room, it must have been an office. On the side was a torn up leather couch.

“Hmm, I was going to suggest you take the couch, but you probably shouldn’t sleep yet,” Jake sighed and pointed his light in my direction. “Turn around, let me see your head.”

I turned away and removed the wig that was barely holding on anymore, “Shouldn’t we be more worried about you?”

“Me? I’m not the one who had a concussion,” he argued as he ran his fingers over my head. “There’s no blood. It looks like the wig dampened the blow. However, I still think you should try to stay awake for the next few hours.”

“Oh good, that’ll give us a chance to talk,” I said sarcastically as I turned back to Jake.

“MC… I don’t know what to say. I did not expect… that… from Cyan. Well, you can really only ever expect the unexpected from him, but that was…” Jake trailed off.

“Insane?” I finished his sentence for him. “You could have just told me that you didn’t want to go to the rave because some neurotic asshole from your past ran it.”

"First, I wasn’t sure he was behind it until we arrived. And would you have honestly let it drop without it leading to more questions? It’s not like I wanted to have that discussion with you in the middle of a store," He argued. He rubbed his face, before continuing. "I certainly didn't know he was going to be in a mood tonight and looking for someone to prey on. I would never have taken you if I had known.”

"Shirt off," I ordered.

"Excuse me?" He looked at me confused.

"I need to check your bruises," I insisted.

He folded his arms protectively, "They're fine."

"Oh for fuck’s sake, let me see them!" I yelled.

Jake reluctantly pulled his shirt off, revealing his badly bruised ribs and stomach to me. I ran my phone's light over them. There was no way he didn't have at least one cracked rib.

"Jake…" I sighed as my fingers gingerly ran across his skin.

He gritted his teeth, "I am fine. I have had worse."

"From him!?" I exclaimed.

"No. Cyan, he, uh, he has a tendency of starting fights with others, as I am sure you can understand. I don't think there was ever a time I didn't have one bruised rib or another," he recollected.

"How much of that shit he said was true?" I asked.

"Can we not do that right now?" Jake's shoulders dropped.

"Oh, we are doing this right now. In fact, before we get started, hand me whatever fucking drugs you have on you right now! You have lost all right to privacy!" I demanded and put out my hand.

"MC, let me explain!" He pleaded. "I only added a small amount to your drink to help you relax and enjoy the event!"

"Excuse me!? And you thought that was acceptable!?" Containing my fury was getting harder and harder.

"You asked for something hard! It's not like alcohol is any better! It’s a drug too! And when we were dancing, it felt great, didn't it? That's all I ever wanted for you," he stressed.

"The fucking drugs, Jake! In my hand, now!" I snapped.

Jake reluctantly reached into his pants' pockets and pulled out four pill bottles, one with an unknown pill, one with crystals and another two full of powder. I recognised the crystals as ecstasy, but everything else were unknown to me.

"Oh, what the fuck is all this!? You had this much on you!?" I screamed.

"I had just bought more," he mumbled.

"You mean when you lost me in the crowd? That's because you had gone to stock up?" I glared.

"MC, please, I need MDMA and Ketamine. I use MDMA for the PTSD and I know I said I recovered, but the truth is I am still in pain. A lot of pain and some days the pain is too much for me to ignore. Regular pain killers aren't enough! I need Ketamine!" he stressed.

"That's such a fucking lie!" I stomped my foot.

"It’s not. I wish it was, but it’s not," he sighed. "I haven't had any today, ok? If I was an addict, I would be on it right now and getting fucked over by the amount of coke I just had."

"So you drugged me and not you?" I slapped him across the face.

"I was trying to stay sober for us," he rubbed his face. "You don't know how much I wanted to. Seeing you lose yourself, I wanted to be lost with you. I wanted to share that experience with you."

I shook my head and stuffed the drugs in my pockets. "Well if you really need them, you'll have to ask me first. Imagine that, you'll have to beg a stupid American for your drugs."

"MC!" He bit his tongue. "Fine, you want to do this now? We'll do it. We’ll bring up all those dark emotions that I have spent a fucking long time trying to bury. Was I furious at you? Yes, I was! I spent months in that recovery ward being unable to check up on you, nevermind trying to contact you, and when I finally got out and got my hands on a fucking computer, I found that the girl I had confessed all of my feelings to had moved on like it all meant nothing!"

"I thought you were dead!" I yelled.

"I hacked your web camera! You were fucking some asshole in your room! There wasn't the slightest bit of mourning on your face!" He exclaimed. "The girl I nearly died for! The only reason I had been in those fucking mines! And you were screwing some dip shit instead of looking for me!"

"The reason you went into the mines? You went in for Hannah!” I clarified.

“No! Don’t think I didn’t know about your plane tickets! You were already on your way! I went in to keep you from doing something stupid! And I stayed after Alan found Hannah for you! To find your Richy! Because I knew how much finding him meant to you! Look what that fucking earned me! A lifetime of fucking agony! But the part that hurt the most was finding out you were fucking someone else while I was in the hospital!” his eyes were so full of fury now.

I shook my head, “I didn’t know! In my mind you had to have been dead! It didn’t make sense that you wouldn’t have given me proof of life! To think you were anything but dead or captured meant you wanted nothing to do with me and thinking that cut so deep! So you had to have been dead. It was the only logical reason I thought. So yes, I sought comfort in other men. I had a huge fucking gaping hole in my heart! And don’t act like I committed a sin when you did the same with Trix!”

“Only because of what you did to me!” he yelled, then took a deep breath. “It took me a long time to get past that anger, but it only takes a moment to bring it all back!”

“Like that hate for Americans. So stupid that you can convince me to suck your dick while you rob me blind? Oh wait, that’s already happened,” I said exasperated. “Wow, what a fucking idiot I am.”

“MC, your money is safe,” he stressed.

“Is it?” I frowned. “How do I know?”

“Oh come on! I’ve held the password to your account for years! I could’ve wiped you clean at any time!” he argued. “I held the keys to destroying your life, but I never used them! You have no idea how much I wanted to ruin you, but I didn’t!”

“You want a fucking medal!?” I asked exasperated. “Anyway it was the dick sucking part that needed to be fulfilled first.”

“It was a dark time in my life! I am not that person anymore! You can’t hold me for any shit I said back then, especially when I was on CK!” he groaned. “Like you never said stupid shit before.”

“You hated me that much?” I asked.

He sighed, “Only because I loved you that much.”

“Did you sabotage my relationships?” I questioned.

“Yes, I planted false evidence on the first few,” he admitted. “I was very spiteful! I wanted to see your relationships crumble!"

“You were a fucking child, upset he wasn’t getting his way while doing nothing about it,” I rolled my eyes.

“I have always said I am not proud of that version of me,” he pointed out. “Now more than ever.”

“Do you still hate me?” I questioned.

“I don’t hate the you I see before me,” he answered vaguely. “I hope you can find it in your heart to judge me as I am today, not who I was back then.”

“Do you harbour any feelings of hate?” I reworded my question.

“Argh, fine, I hate what you did to me back then!” he flung his arms around wildly. “I hate what you made me become!”

I slapped him again and he grabbed my hand. “I didn’t make you become anything! That’s on you!” I yelled.

“I hate the fact that I could never get you out of my head, no matter how much I used. I hate the fact that you were always haunting my every waking moment and my every nightmare! I hate that I couldn’t replace you with another. Everyone was inferior to you. I hate that when I thought I finally got rid of you, you showed up at my doorstep,” he unloaded. “I hate that my worst addiction and the only one I’ll never be able to break is you.”

“Jake,” I muttered.

Before I knew it, our lips met in a heated kiss. Jake poured so much emotion into me. I could feel his pain, his hurt, his regret. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in closer while his hands ran over my body.

I parted, gasping for breath, “I am still angry with you.”

“So am I,” he admitted.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out the ecstasy and shook out a crystal into my hand. “Angry sex it is,” I declared before swallowing it.

“MC…” he looked at me with surprise.

“Well there’s no fucking alcohol here, is there!?” I exclaimed.

Jake took the container out of my hand, “Angry sex followed by immediate make up sex.”

I smiled, “Let’s not waste time then.”

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake #unrecognisable fanfic

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thetavolution · 1 month

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LAMIA

Full name: Lamia Ambler Name meaning:  Lamia: gluttonous; Ambler: to ride an ambling horse Pronouns: She/Her Race: Human Age: 34 Orientation: Pansexual Romance: Undecided (Originally I had Astarion, but he might not make sense. Maybe another Rolan option? I don't think Shadowheart or Karlach would claim her romantically.) Class: Rogue Bard Subclass: Thief / College of Lore Origin: Criminal Theme song:  Opportunities (Let's Make Lots of Money) - Pet Shop Boys / Devil's Worst Nightmare - FJØRA / Little Big Boy - Madds Buckley

Personality Lamia's a con artist and thief. She considers herself as more intelligent than most people. She’s smug and her ego is often her downfall. She likes to be perceived as tough as nails and cocky, but she’s a lot more sensitive than she lets on. It doesn’t take much to hurt her feelings. She can be callous toward strangers and acquaintances. She assumes people are cruel until proven otherwise, so why go out of your way to help anyone?

Due to her ability to shape shift into any humanoid, Lamia is able to blend into any crowd. She has the skills and brains to take care of herself. It’s just that her bloated sense of self-importance always lands her in hot water. She tends to take the form of a Half-Drow, most likely due to growing up around Paloma.

History Lamia was raised in an orphanage with no memory of her birth parents. One of the priestesses at the orphanage, the Holy House of Nym, found Lamia when she was a baby. It’s unclear if Lamia’s parents died or abandoned her on purpose. There was only one clue to her identity: a blanket she was wrapped in that had “Lamia” embroidered on it. She would adopt the surname Ambler from one of the priestesses at Nym. Although she was a changeling, the priestesses didn’t hesitate to bring her into their fold.

The other children didn’t trust her since she was a changeling, except for Paloma, a Drow who was a few years older than her. The two became inseparable and Paloma would help her find some acceptance at Nym. The orphanage rarely had enough money and struggled to take care of the children, especially as poverty, disease, and violence would send more and more orphans to their door.

Most of the children who aged out of the orphanage would go on to take jobs in town, often as tradespeople. Lamia couldn’t see that life for herself. Instead, she taught herself how to steal and lie her way out of anything. Since the priestesses were stretched so thin caring for children, it was easy for Lamia to slip into a life of crime. She scammed and robbed her way to a comfortable lifestyle, including robbing a renowned wealthy family.

The robbery would land her in prison for at least 10 years and she has missed a LOT in those ten years. While in prison, she befriended a beefed up Draconian named Allie. Allie would become the brawn to Lamia’s brains. They planned a prison break together. She would reunite with her sister, Paloma, but both of them with a tadpole in tow.

Likes: Her found family, the thrill of stealing, money, jewelry, con artistry, fighting, traveling, reading, naps, hot weather, being stealthy, knives, and her friends

Dislikes: Being poor, jail, being alone, taxes, waking up early, feeling stupid, and rejection

Fears: She’s scared of being abandoned by everyone she loves. She’s afraid that people all secretly hate her and look down on her. She’s convinced everyone thinks she’s an idiot and she reacts accordingly.

She was often mocked as a child for being a changeling and belittled. It’s made her defensive and afraid everyone is just waiting to turn on her. She’s also afraid everyone is right and that she’s irredeemable.

Quirks: Lamia’s biggest “quirk” is being able to change her appearance at will. She can mimic anyone’s appearance and voice. She’s good at mimicking behavior, but not perfect.

She often takes the form of some kind of elf, either a drow or wood elf, to fit in. She likes taking the form of a drow, despite how people perceive them, because of Paloma.

Mental Health: Lamia struggles with abandonment issues. She grew up in an orphanage and she’d eventually age out of the system while watching others get adopted. Being a changeling left her unwanted by most couples. She started acting out.

She’s terrified everyone is right and that she’s genuinely a horrible person. She constantly beats herself up and her self-esteem is a lot lower than she lets on. All of her bravado is an act to cover up her insecurities.

Favorite Foods: Apples, Cakes, Sweet Apple Tart with a Caramel Drizzle, and Beef Stew with Sourdough

Favorite Drinks: Arabellan Dry and Calimport Blend Tea

Favorite Flower: Irises

Height:  5’4” / 162.56 cm

Skin: Bluish-Gray

Hair:  White

Eyes:  Light Blue (Almost White)

Color Scheme:  She usually wears browns and blacks, but she’s also associated with white and blues.

Fashion Sense: Normally, she wears anything that helps her blend into her surroundings. Her goal is typically to avoid being spotted. When she’s dressing up, however, she tends to go for extremely fashionable and expensive outfits, even if she has to steal it.

Family:

Unknown Parents - She has no idea who or where they are.

Paloma Silkflower — Paloma is Lamia’s adopted older sister. They were raised in the orphanage together.

I thought I had posted this but I couldn't find it! Oops.

#bg3 oc #tav oc #my tav #changeling dnd #changeling oc #changeling bg3 #Lamia #Lamia Ambler

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sayruq · 2 years

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All the Sand Snakes are depicted as being capable of violence, even Sarella shows up with a bow and arrow. But Obara is written differently. Obara’s the first one to show up. She's brutish, angry and quick to threaten violence. Obara wants to use her spear and even thinks Dorne should attack the Reach and more specifically Oldtown.

"Obara would have me go to war." Nym laughed. "Yes, she wants to set the torch to Oldtown. She hates that city as much as our little sister loves it."

She's set up to look like an out-of-control wild card. Yet neither Doran nor Arianne seem to fear her, Areo does not want to hurt her either. She is repeatedly contrasted with her sisters- Obara's louder, more prone to drinking, angrier, and more tragic- her mother killed herself after Oberyn took her and Obara has been running from the grief ever since.

She snorted. "It has been twenty years, or near enough to make no matter. And I was not here long. I am the whore's whelp, or had you forgotten?"

"Tyene. Obara is too loud. Tyene is so sweet and gentle that no man will suspect her. Obara would make Oldtown our father's funeral pyre, but I am not so greedy.

"The day my father came to claim me, my mother did not wish for me to go. 'She is a girl,' she said, 'and I do not think that she is yours. I had a thousand other men.' He tossed his spear at my feet and gave my mother the back of his hand across the face, so she began to weep. 'Girl or boy, we fight our battles,' he said, 'but the gods let us choose our weapons.' He pointed to the spear, then to my mother's tears, and I picked up the spear. 'I told you she was mine,' my father said, and took me. My mother drank herself to death within the year. They say that she was weeping as she died."

Obara is too fond of wine

She's also not as sly or cunning as Nymeria or Tyene, she's not as clever as Sarella or as carefree as Elia. She's open and honest with her intentions, she speaks harshly but a lot of what she says has truth in them. A call for war isn't lauded by the text but it is true that sooner or later war would come to Dorne.

"War will come, whether we wish it or not," said Obara. "A boy king sits the Iron Throne. Lord Stannis holds the Wall and is gathering northmen to his cause. The two queens are squabbling over Tommen like bitches with a juicy bone. The ironmen have taken the Shields and are raiding up the Mander, deep into the heart of the Reach, which means Highgarden will be preoccupied as well. Our enemies are in disarray. The time is ripe."

[The time was ripe for Aegon to arrive 👀]

This is why I'm starting to think that Obara is going to be one of the eldest Sand Snakes to survive the series along with Sarella. She's deliberately framed as though she's a lost cause with some people in the fandom thinking she's capable of kinslaying and stabbing Areo in the back. Instead, I think she'll take Areo's role as captain of the guards when Arianne ascends the throne.

When a serving girl knelt to wipe up the spilled wine, Obara left the hall. After a moment Princess Arianne excused herself and went after her. Obara would never turn her rage on the little princess, Hotah knew. They are cousins, and she loves her well.

"I know you will not fail us, cousins." Arianne went to each of them in turn, took their hands, kissed them lightly on the lips. "Obara, so fierce. Nymeria, my sister. Tyene, sweetling. I love you all. The sun of Dorne goes with you."

Obara loves her cousin, Arianne trusts her, and Obara would fiercely defend her if necessary. We have already gotten a preview of what her service to Arianne would be like.

Only Ser Gerold Dayne had escaped unscathed. Darkstar. If Myrcella's horse had not shied at the last instant, his longsword would have opened her from chest to waist instead just taking off her ear. Dayne was her most grievous sin, the one that Arianne most regretted. With one stroke of his sword, he had changed her botched plot into something foul and bloody. If the gods were good, by now Obara Sand had treed him in his mountain fastness and put an end to him.

Obara is being sent with Areo on a mission to clean up the Queenmaker plot... I don’t think it’s a mistake or GRRM trying to find something for Obara to do. I’m genuinely starting to think this is her endgame.

‘But Say, Obara wants war and she doesn’t care about peace,’ I hear you saying. While Obara’s wish for war isn’t exactly morally exemplary, it hasn’t happened. It can’t happen, I suspect Obara knew that when she went to Doran, a man known for exercising caution. At any rate, rather than being discarded as a lost cause, Obara will be given an opportunity to learn an important lesson.

Prince Doran shut his eyes and opened them again. Hotah could see his leg trembling underneath the blanket. "If you were not my brother's daughters, I would send the three of you back to your cells and keep you there until your bones were grey. Instead I mean to take you with us to the Water Gardens. There are lessons there if you have the wit to see them." "Lessons?" said Obara. "All I've seen are naked children." "Aye," the prince said. "I told the story to Ser Balon, but not all of it. As the children splashed in the pools, Daenerys watched from amongst the orange trees, and a realization came to her. She could not tell the highborn from the low. Naked, they were only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection. 'There is your realm,' she told her son and heir, 'remember them, in everything you do.' My own mother said those same words to me when I was old enough to leave the pools. It is an easy thing for a prince to call the spears, but in the end the children pay the price. For their sake, the wise prince will wage no war without good cause, nor any war he cannot hope to win.

This lesson isn’t something that Arianne needs to learn, she learnt it bitterly when Arys died and when Myrcella was mutilated. It’s Obara’s lesson to learn. In fact, the children in the Water Gardens are brought up to Obara multiple times.

The captain of guards knew the prince he guarded. Once, long ago, a callow youth had come from Norvos, a big broad-shouldered boy with a mop of dark hair. That hair was white now, and his body bore the scars of many battles . . . but his strength remained, and he kept his longaxe sharp, as the bearded priests had taught him. She shall not pass, he told himself, and said, "The prince is watching the children at their play. He is never to be disturbed when he is watching the children at their play." "Hotah," said Obara Sand, "you will remove yourself from my path, else I shall take that longaxe and—"

Hotah could hear them splashing and shouting at each other in high, shrill voices. "It was not so long ago that you were one of the children in those pools, Obara," the prince said, when she took one knee before his rolling chair. She snorted. "It has been twenty years, or near enough to make no matter. And I was not here long. I am the whore's whelp, or had you forgotten?"

The prince gestured toward the pools. "Obara, look at the children, if it please you." "It does not please me. I'd get more pleasure from driving my spear into Lord Tywin's belly. I'll make him sing 'The Rains of Castamere' as I pull his bowels out and look for gold."

‘Obara, look at the children. You were once one of them.’ Repeated over and over again for a reason. When Euron attacks the Water Gardens (GRRM said Daenerys wouldn’t attack it but he didn’t say it wouldn’t be attacked. The Water Gardens like the Maidenpool will serve as another reminder of the cruelty of war), Obara will be there, trying to protect them. She’ll get to use her spear in a futile but necessarily attempt to defend those children.

Seven, Brienne thought again, despairing. She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice. She stepped out into the rain, Oathkeeper in hand. "Leave her be. If you want to rape someone, try me."

Decades ago Obara was given a choice between her mother and the spear and Obara chose the spear. Since then she hasn’t had an opportunity to use it. Her mother died crying because of that spear and Obara has nothing to show for it until now. First, she’ll avenge Myrcella, a child who was maimed, by taking down her attacker Gerold Dayne. Then, she’ll return to her uncle and fight another man who harms children- Euron. She won’t win then- I’m starting to suspect she might be the Sand Snake that is dragged through the streets by Euron as shown on the TV show- but she won’t die. Her story won’t end there.

It will end in Dorne, in the Water Gardens. It’ll end when Arianne takes her rightful place as Princess of Dorne. It’ll end after the last war is finished and Westeros begins rebuilding. Dorne will take a lot of damage in Aegon VI’s war with Daenerys and Arianne will need support from her remaining family and from her oldest cousin to rebuild it. Most importantly the woman who felt she did not have a place will finally know that she belonged to those pools and to Dorne. She might finally be at peace with the choice she made when her father came to collect her.

#obara sand #doran martell #areo hotah #dornesolstice #dorne meta #song of ice and fire #listen i love obara so much

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