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theycallmeratt · 2 months

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"What did you expect, calling yourself the Goblin Menace?" Mizora said.

Wyll's cheeks went warm. He expected people to think he was a menace to goblins, not that he was a goblin who was also a menace! He took another step through the snow, pausing to listen for the sound of his quarry.

"Really, you shouldn't limit yourself. You could simply be: the Menace," Mizora said.

"Don't you have better things to do?"

Read more on AO3 or below the cut

"No. I cleared my schedule strictly so we could have this little one-on-one. Frankly, Wyll, you're not meeting your key performance indicators. Lucky you, I've put together a performance improvement plan to help you–"

Something moved behind the brush. Wyll ducked behind a trunk, carefully scaled the tree, and got a better view of his target. A steaming, lumpy pile of human pieces, so pained it could barely be called sentient. Snow sizzled when the flakes hit its flesh, the ice around it slowly melting as it struggled towards the town.

"There you go. Kill that and we'll be back in the net positive," Mizora yawned.

Wyll drew his blade and did so.

~*~

"I could have told you Handler of the Flesh was also a bad choice," Mizora said. "Accurate, though. I've seen what you do in the evenings."

"I told you, I'm rubbing my muscles. They're sore," Wyll snapped. Appalling, that she would imply otherwise.

"Sneaking off to rub your muscles in the bath? Under blankets?"

Because he had no privacy with her around! He kept his stone eye under a patch, terrified she would use it to peek at him and mock him. He bathed and used the bathroom with one hand clamped over it, ready to cover himself should she appear. Bad enough that he was newly covered in pimples, hair and stretch marks. The idea that she could see him undressed made his skin crawl.

Don't engage her. Engaging her only encourages her.

Hard though. Nigh impossible. Just the sound of Mizora's voice made rage boil up. She'd taken everything from him: his life, his father, the respect of a city. Private baths. Being alone. Silence. He dreamed about drawing his blade and running her through. About being dragged to the hells after, leaving only a greasy pile of waste to mark his life. When she spoke, the anger took over and he found himself quipping back at her. Or, worse, setting himself up for her to make fun of him.

"Perhaps if you spent less time rubbing muscles and more time on your tasks, we would be done with this review. Your target is in that cave."

Cave. A generous description. More a hole in the side of a glacier, the ice barely packed and dripping. Wyll was going to melt it just by being in it. Melt it and it would cave in on him. In his last moments, he would summon Mizora and spit on her. Maybe, maybe even call her… a shitbag.

Yes. Yes, he would.

No he wouldn't. Oh, he could never say that.

He clomped down the tunnel, following the low gibbering of his prey. Curled at the end of the tunnel he found the bloated, bald things, squirming and shaking against each other as they tried to stay warm. A few blasts and they were back in the heat of the hells.

~*~

"Gangblaster. Gang. Blast. Er." Mizora sighed. "Wyll. We really need to talk about this–"

"Can't!" he shouted, dodging a swooping imp. Imp! He hated imps. They were easy enough alone, but they were never alone.

Imps had more friends than he had.

"What will you call this one? Imp Slapper?"

"Mizora–"

"Wyll 'Swoop Me' Ravengard?"

"Mi–"

"Wyll, Who is Below the Imps?"

"As you say," he said, finally giving up. The anger flared and then faded a little. Wyll was simply too tired to fuel it.

"The One Who Imps Come Down Upon?"

"Sure."

"Oh! Wyll: Bottom for Imps!" she laughed. "Get it? Because Wyll sounds like 'will'. Will bottom for Imps."

"Right."

"Poo, you're not making this very fun." She snapped her fingers and the imps burned away.

"You—you could have… you could have killed them all along?"

"Of course! They don't count towards your work, though."

"Then why—!" His voice echoed. He took a deep breath.

"Watch your tone with me, pup," she smirked.

He another deep breath, then another, trying to get it under control, but this, this…this shi—

No. No, he wasn't going to let her win. He turned on his heel and marched away, her laugh following him into the night.

~*~

Mizora only had one quip on the next assignment—that Wyll should return to Gangbuster, or perhaps Babykiller—to which he said, "Certainly," and that was all. The heat of his anger was still there, but combined with how he needed to stay frosty towards Mizora, it cooled to a low simmer. Strange, how out here being aggressive, being a fighter, kept him alive, but Mizora was more like being back in the courts. Listening to barbed silver tongues dribble insults and wait for a moment to throw them off their game.

Wyll had despised courtly intrigue, so he did the same here that he had there: he pretended he was a sculpture of smooth, gray stone, and let it roll off of him. Instead of an unstoppable force, he was an immovable object, powerful in how little she could affect him.

Falling into the rhythm of battle helped too, Wyll placing his feet as sure as he did while dancing, fiendish magic flowing through him, ducking a weaving and leaping around the gnolls. He couldn't beat them too quickly, after all, so he staggered them, keeping them up and alive until one unwittingly opened a portal.

Out tumbled dozens of maw demons, little more than hungry mouths on whatever limbs they hadn't eaten. The creatures squealed as they ran towards Wyll, who dispatched them slowly, their twitching bodies only stacking in the spell that was summoning them. A dozen, two, no, a hundred later and he blasted the remaining gnolls, closing off the spell and completing his task.

He wiped his blade off and returned to camp, oiling and caring for it. His family crest sparkled on the hilt.

One day. One day he would prove to father that he had done well. One day his father would forgive him. All he had to do was enough good to outweigh his foolishness. Enough good that the name "Wyll Ravengard" didn't fill him with shame.

And until that day he would be…

The Rapier of the Roads.

No! No, he could always hear Mizora saying something.

~*~

Years of being a mildly pleasant statue to Mizora meant she slowly lost interest in him. Far slower than a mortal might, but they say patience comes with age and she was ancient. She still stroked him and licked him but her touch was as inconsequential and stupid as a fly banging against the stained glass windows of his father's office. You could not hurt rock, not without breaking it, and he was worth too much whole. Thus he settled into a half life, never too happy—because Mizora would know what to take from him—and never too sad—because that would give her pleasure. A twilight, as cool and dim as he tried to be.

Perhaps that's why her requests turned cruel.

Wyll stared at the woman in front of him. Fiendish, certainly, with her horns and the glow of hellfire in her chest, the oily smoke that poured out of her shoulders. And huge, too. In a fair fight she would probably crush him. Definitely crush him. He'd lost a lot of skill thanks to the tadpole. Looking at her he saw Mizora, the empty smiles, the constant invasion.

But that wasn't reality. In reality she was like him: a plaything for devils. A weapon wielded to further their plans. Except she hadn't had a choice.

Mizora was going to kill him, he knew it. She was going to ruin him. Perhaps she would scream into his thoughts all night or pass her end of the sending stone around, filling his head with the mindless suffering of the lemures. Maybe twist him, turn him into a monster, stamp on his face that he was a sellout, scum.

Too late. He wouldn't kill an innocent. Let her ruin him. He would not ruin himself, not anymore.

The feeling of doing right filled him with a warmth as bold and bright as Karlach's smile.

#bg3 fanfic #wyll week 2024 #wyllweek2024 #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #bg3 mizora

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lovesosweeet · 6 months

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better left unsaid // cth

chapter twelve

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn't know.

calum hood x fem!oc

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august 1, 2018 los angeles, california orion

My moms come up from San Diego for my first chemotherapy appointment. While I’m grateful that they’re here, I hate that they’re just another group of people who want me to tell Calum. Emelia is working today. She had offered to take the day off, but since my moms are here, I figured she should go to work.

“Honey, do you need us to take Duke while you’re getting treatment?” Mama asks.

I sigh, not wanting to think about yet another round of logistics. I feel like I’m having to rearrange my entire life because of the diagnosis and Cal being on tour. Granted, I don’t even know how much of my life is worth getting into order. Does it really matter if I take my classes if I’m going to be dead in a year or two? Taking care of Duke does matter, of course, but he’s not a very active dog and I want him here while I’m living alone temporarily.

“No, I can keep him here. He’s already got a lot of changes with Calum gone,” I tell her. She nods.

“Of course. Let us know if you change your mind, okay?”

I nod.

We get ready to leave, prepping a cold bottle of water for me to have, along with a box of crackers and a bottle of fruit punch Gatorade. In the pamphlet that Dr. Harris gave me about my chemotherapy drug, it mentioned that I’d likely be nauseous after receiving the IV of the essentially poisonous fluid. I don’t think that they’ll do much to remedy the discomfort, but I want to at least try to dispel the symptoms.

Mom and Mama insist that I also bring a sweatshirt in case I get cold, and I just do what they say. I am not in the mood to debate anything with them. I bring one of Cal’s to have a piece of him with me at the hospital. It’s not the same as having him there to support me, but it’s the closest I’ll get to it.

We drive the short distance to the hospital. My appointment is at 9:00, but they’d woken up super early to be able to pick me up and take me to the appointment. I got a text from Calum at 3 am when they landed in Tokyo and I’m so thankful he didn’t call like he’d promised. I would’ve woken up and I’m already exhausted as it is. The chemo is about to make it all worse.

I check in at the same desk that I’d come to before, but this time I don’t see Russell. A young, pretty blonde nurse calls me back instead and she explains that they’re doing more tests to provide a baseline while we track the chemo’s progress over the next few months. The tests include another blood draw, and they let me lay down, but this time I don’t pass out thankfully. Once the initial dizziness wears off, we walk down the hallway into another room, but this one is far larger.

There are several sterile-looking arm chairs, some of which have patients sitting in them already, an IV hooked up to them. I am sad when I see the youngest patient is a boy who can’t be more than 9, bald, hooked up to the chemo transfusion, and reading a Magic Treehouse book. He's so young and he's already received a death sentence: a cancer diagnosis.

The blonde nurse directs me to my own chair, which has a table next to it that has a “WELCOME, ORION” sign and a bottle of apple juice and a pack of cookies. Wow, way to make a girl feel special while she's dying.

I take a seat in my chair, and my moms stay right in front of me, even though they have chairs available for guests very much available. Maybe I get it from them — the inability to accept help. I can't imagine that they'll stand there the whole time. We're supposed to be here pretty much all day.

Another nurse comes over with a cart of medical supplies. She's older, around my moms' age, and she greets us with a 'good morning' that I just ignore. It's not a good morning.

"Let's get you started. Any questions?" She's already grabbing my arm and wiping it with a disinfecting cloth, prepping it for an IV. The thought of an IV gives me chills, so I try not to stare as she puts it in and then hooks me up to the drip of the chemotherapy drug. I don't want to think about it.

"No questions," I tell the nurse.

She smiles at me and hands me a remote. "Press this if you have any issues. I'll be back in a moment to check on you."

I try to look anywhere except for the bend in my arm where she just inserted my IV. Mom opens her mouth to say something right as my phone starts to ring. It's Calum.

"Hello?" I answer instantly. I've been waiting to hear his voice. I know it's some ungodly early hour in Tokyo, but I'm sure he's got a completely messed up sleep schedule right now, and that won't be changing for a few weeks until they're consistently in the same time zone for a few days.

"Hi baby," Cal's tired voice comes through my speaker.

"How was the flight?"

My moms mouth to me that they're going to go grab coffee and I nod, appreciating the chance to talk to Cal without them eavesdropping.

"Long and boring. Ash kept snoring for most of it." He sounds so tired. I've never understood how they could tour like they do. The different time zones, constant busy-ness, late nights... it's exhausting.

"I'm sorry."

Cal laughs. "Don't be sorry, you had absolutely nothing to do with it. How are you? What are you doing today?"

My breath catches in my throat. I have to lie again. My stomach sinks and I feel guilty all over again, but I don't have time to dwell on that. I have to tell him something. "My moms are here. Probably just gonna take a short hike and get some food, maybe go to a museum."

I feel like I can hear him frown. "I wish they'd come before I left! I've not seen them in forever. Let them know I say hi?"

I nod even though he can't see me. "Yeah, of course. I'm sorry I didn't think to invite them up to see us before. My brain has kinda been mush lately."

"I know, it's okay. I'm excited to spend Thanksgiving with them again, though," he says. Last year we did Thanksgiving with my family and Christmas with his, since Thanksgiving isn't exactly a thing in Australia. We were talking about hosting his parents and Mali here in LA this year, but we hadn't finalized that yet.

"Yeah, that'll be good."

"Hey," Calum says, which makes me laugh. Why is he greeting me again in the middle of our conversation?

"Hey?" I reply, asking it as a question.

"We're one day closer to me coming home."

I smile at the prospect of having him back home and by my side. "Yeah, what is it? A couple of months ‘til you're in San Diego?" I think I'll still be getting treatment, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to cover my tracks with him being so close to home, but I try to focus on getting through things the way they are right now. He will be home for good in November. I can make it to November.

"Yep, two months. It's October 2nd. Oh! Maybe your whole family can come to the show! Would your moms let Eri come even if it's a school night?" His mention of bringing my brother to the show is cute. My little brother absolutely adores Calum. Actually, my entire family is obsessed with him, and I don't blame them.

"Maybe, I'll have to ask." I know for a fact that they would let Eri come to a show, regardless of date or time, but I'm leery to make any kind of promises at this point.

“Just let me know, I’ll put whoever on the list.”

“Yeah, for sure. How’s Japan? How’s everyone else? I wanna hear all about it.”

Cal then dives into the rundown of their arrival to Japan and going through customs, meeting fans at the airport and finally getting to the hotel. He said Matt is already tired of them, but, to be fair, Matt was tired of them after two days of rehearsals. Ash said that Kay’s grandma is back at home, so I won’t be running into her at the hospital. It hasn’t been a full day since they left but I feel like so much has happened. Hooked up to this IV, my cancer feels so much more real.

“I’m getting sleepy again, so I can let you go. Just wanted to hear your voice.” He yawns and I can only imagine how tired he looks. I'm tired too.

“Of course,” I say. “Sweet dreams. I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll text you when I wake up again.”

We hang up — I’m not sure which one of us does it first or if we do it at the same time, but it seems like the silence comes instantly. The moment my phone goes quiet, I realize just how freezing I am. I remember the sweatshirt my moms made me bring and pull it out of. my tote bag that's on the floor, just as the two sympathetically smiling faces appear in front of me again.

They're carrying Starbucks cups from the food court, a third one in their hands that I presume is for me.

"We got you some mint tea — it's supposed to be great for nausea," Mama says, handing me the hot cup.

"Thank you," I say, wrapping my freezing fingers around the warmth of the tea.

"How's Calum? He's in Japan first, right?" Mom asks. She ignores the chair that's next to me that she could sit in, instead choosing to squat in front of me with her iced coffee in hand.

I nod and take a sip of my tea. I've always loved mint tea. Cal and I seemed to have a cup almost every night for the first few months of us living together. "Yeah, Japan. He's tired, but he'll be tired for a while."

Mom sets a hand on my knee. "So will you." She's right. I'm about to be drained and exhausted and sick and miserable. She smiles sadly at me.

Just like the drip in my IV, the next few hours go incredibly slowly. I'm so cold the entire time, the staff have to bring me a blanket, and I note mentally to bring one with me next week. My moms were prepared and both brought books to read, one of which they end up giving to me. Scrolling on my phone got old quickly, but I found some photos of Cal and the boys arriving in Japan and enjoyed that.

Once I'm done with my first full bag of the chemo drug, we get to leave. Walking out of the hospital and back into the sunshine is jarring, and I'm still cold, even though it's still very warm outside. My moms drive me back home, but once I'm back in the apartment, they have to leave to drive back to San Diego so they can have dinner with my brother. He'd been at a friend's house all day while they were here.

They offer to order me a pizza or something for dinner, but Emelia and I are planning on hanging out tonight. I know I won't feel well, but Em just wants to be there for me in case I need anything. She'll probably stay the night, too. It won't be as comforting as having Calum, but I will gladly take the company.

A few hours pass while I'm alone, and the nausea sets in quickly. I text Emi and ask her to bring food, even though the thought of eating makes me feel worse. I know I need to eat. I don't specify what she should bring, because nothing sounds good. She just says she'll be here in thirty minutes.

I text Calum in the meantime.

To: bass boy 💕 hi my love hope you're getting some beauty sleep i know i said don't bring me anything but actually can you bring me some kind of Japanese snacks pls i will love you forever and ever and ever i mean i'll do that anyway but i do want some snacks ignore me til you're awake was just thinking and thought of it and wanted to ask hehe oh and i know it's not til the v end but can you pretty pretty pretty please buy me chocolate special k in europe i will remind you dw

I think I've successfully pretended things are normal, and I do desperately miss the Special K in Europe.

A knock on the door is timed perfectly with the end of my texting spree, and I know it's Emelia, hopefully with food.

"It's open!" I yell out, not wanting to move from my comfy spot on the couch.

I hear the door opening and closing, followed by some echoed footsteps, and then Emelia is standing in the living room. She has on her work clothes — black leggings and t-shirt, nonslip shoes on her feet. She's not wearing the hat that they make her wear anymore, but her hair is still up in a messy ponytail.

"Hi, how ya feelin'?" She asks. She also holds up the bag of food she brought. It's the ramen from the place that's pretty close to here that I love.

"Pretty shitty, but I know it's only going to get worse."

Em frowns. "Well, have no fear. I brought ramen, and we can watch Girl Meets World all night."

My jaw drops. Everyone in my life knows how much I love Girl Meets World but judges me for liking a kids' show so much, so no one ever watches it with me. She really is such a good friend, willingly watching something that she knows will make me feel better.

"I love you," I tell her.

Then, she smiles, takes off her shoes, and puts the food on the coffee table, disappearing for a minute. When she comes back, she has glasses of water, napkins, and silverware. Emelia plops onto the couch next to me and takes the ramen out of the bag, setting it up for us.

"I got the curry and the mushroom," she explains. "I wasn't sure which you'd want today. I'm fine with whatever you don't want."

Both are normally delicious, but neither sounds appealing right now. The mushroom broth is lighter, so I go with that, thinking if nothing else, I can just sip the broth.

After a few hours of watching TV and pretending to eat my ramen, I suddenly feel Emelia's eyes on me. She's got a thoughtful look on her face, and I don't know what it is.

"What's wrong?"

She shakes her head. "Sorry, was just thinking. Do you know if you're going to lose your hair?"

I gulp. I'd looked into it. It depends largely on which form of chemo you're on, but also, it comes down to luck. "The drug I'm on is one that doesn't usually cause it, but there's still a chance I might."

Emelia nods, thinking. "Do you want to get a wig? Just in case."

I'd thought about it, but wigs that actually look nice are very expensive. Medical bills are already racking up, and my moms are going to help me, but it's a lot. "No, I think I'll just cross that bridge if I get to it."

"Do you want to cut your hair?"

It's relevant, but it catches me by surprise. I hadn't thought about that. I might lose my hair, but I've had long hair for so long. I've not cut it much shorter in so long. I'm also... dying. Why do I need to have long hair until I die? Why can't I change it up?

Isn't that what life is all about? Doing fun things?

I turn to her. "Let's do it."

I stand up and head straight for the kitchen, grabbing scissors from our junk drawer. I then go into the bathroom, switching on the lights. Emelia joins me soon after I start tying my hair into four sections, aligning the elastics at the same level, halfway between my chin and my shoulders.

Emelia doesn't say anything, she just smiles at me through the mirror and watches while I begin to saw off my hair. I don't know why I'm making such a sudden, big decision, but I've chopped a full ponytail off already, so there's no going back. Leave it to leukemia to stop me from overthinking every piece of my life.

Once I've cut off all the length, I take off the elastics holding everything together and have Emelia help me even everything out. It's not perfect, but if I'm about to lose it, it doesn't matter. If I don't lose it, I'll go see a hairdresser to fix it.

"OK, let me take a picture and then I need to go lay back down.

I take a mirror selfie, covering my face with my phone, just showing the lack of hair cascading over my green sweatshirt. I send it to Cal while I trudge back to the couch, flopping face-first onto the mountain of throw pillows and blankets.

"Want some Tums? Or Pepto?" Em asks.

"No," I groan. Why did cutting my hair suck all of the energy out of me?

"You okay?"

"No."

Em chuckles, and I feel the couch sink slightly as she sits next to me. "Can I get you anything?"

"A new body?"

She snorts. "Can't do that, sorry."

I let out a pained sigh, turning my head so it's not face down on the fuzzy blanket. "Thank you for being here."

"You have to stop thanking me. I know you'd be the first person holding my hand and bringing me food if it was me."

She's right. I'd probably let her move into our place so I could take care of her as much as she'd let me. I don't think she'd take me up on the offer to move in, but there'd undoubtedly be an offer. I'd do anything for her.

"I think I'm gonna sleep," I announce. My phone buzzes several times in my pocket. Hoping it's Calum, I pull it out.

From: bass boy 💕 UM EXCUSE ME MADAM YOU CANNOT JUST SPRING THIS ON ME IT LOOKS SO GOOD GOOD MF MORNING TO ME MY GIRLFRIEND IS A GODDESS can't wait to see it in person <3 and 1000% will get you snacks and special k anything for you