#oc: five

[courtneysveryownartblog]

Opened my sketchbook and saw this. Beautiful I think

[most-delicate-weapon]

Poll time

We're renaming Five! What should his name be?

Viper

Vinnie

Vicky

Voting ended onJun 4

[most-delicate-weapon]

Dropping off a new transmasc V now that ive made Vaughn a non-v oc

everyone say hello to Five (V) he loves long walks on the beach and slinging back bluegrass at Totentanz

[captainderyn]

Dialogue starter prompt: "believe me. it was a mistake" for your choice of muse(s)

Ehehe shall I offer you some Agent Angst (kinda) on this fine Tuesday evening?

I started Agentnoveling to @tiredassmage about Rhys earlier and it's devolved into a mess of feels. Enjoy :3

---

Rhys' duffle bag weighed heavy on his shoulder as he readjusted it. He stared at the caf maker, watching the overworked machine strain to push the wateriest caf he'd ever tasted into his equally as abused mug.

"Going somewhere?" Five leaned on the counter next to Rhys, startling him with his silent approach.

Though, from the way Five raised an eyebrow, Rhys wasn't so sure the approach had been so silent.

Five said a lot without words as he held out a handful of goods to make the coffee taste like something more than bitter water.

"Wow, one of Fourteen's caramel creamers from your desk." Rhys said into the awfully loud silence, palming the flavor mix, "You're really spoiling me today."

He made it all the way through pouring in the creamer and stirring exactly three times before Five's stare finally burned a hole into him.

"Yes I'm going somewhere you nosy asshole." He said, wrestling with the lid to his mug under the scrutiny of his field partner.

"Hm, interesting." Five hummed, reaching around Rhys to push the lid down enough to seal. He had that look about him that Rhys hated--humorless eyes and drawn lips. It was his stick-up-the-ass face. "No you're not."

"That's not what Keeper's orders said." Rhys scooped up his cup and went to turn. His duffle bag started to slip and he cursed as hot coffee bubbled up and across his hand.

Five caught his bag, slinging it back over Rhys' shoulder. At the same time, he felt Five's hand tighten over the strap of his bag and into the thick material of his uniform; grappling him the same way you'd scruff a cat.

"What--" Rhys began only for Five's voice, oozing false pep, interrupted him:

"How about we catch up in my office and share our coffees."

Rhys tried to wrestle himself free without causing too much of a scene. Though most of their agents were spread thin these days, sent out to planets across systems, the few that were still working out of HQ were painfully observant and equally as prone to spreading gossip.

Wondering what he did to get strong-armed into their senior-most Cipher's office could keep the rumor mill flowing for plenty of time.

"Five, what the hell?" he burst out as Five's office door slid shut behind them. In typical fashion, his office was lit in soft yellows of lamps instead of brilliant white fluorescent and it took a minute for his eyes to adjust.

"Sit down." All of Five's pep dissipated in those two, brusque words.

Rhys bristled, hiking his bag up onto his shoulder.

"I don't have time for this. I have a flight to catch at the spaceport." he snapped, flipping his wrist to stare at the blinking numbers on the chrono. It took his eyes a moment to focus in on the numbers--the lines blurring together.

"No you don't." Five had the gall to point at the leather chair in the corner before sliding into his own behind his desk, steepling his hands under his chin.

Why the hell did Rhys feel like a kid called into the principal's office?

"Rhys." Five's voice softened just a notch, "Sit the hell down."

He sighed, shucking his bag down next to the chair and slinging himself into it. The leather gave way to his weight, settling him into his own custom hollow he'd worn into the cushion over the years.

Roslynd complained he ruined the chair with the way he leaned to one side. He always told her that if it bothered her that much, she had a perfectly good seat behind the desk.

"I took you off that mission." Five said after Rhys had settled down in a creak of old leather and rustling of heavy uniform. "One of our junior agents is going instead."

"But Keeper--" Rhys interrupted, dread settling in a writhing coil in his stomach.

"Is overwhelmed with other matters." Five leaned his chin on his hands, eyes narrowing. Rhys hated being pinned down by that stare. After this many years, that stare read him like a stream of consciousness.

A deep divet pulled down between Five's brows, "Rhys, when's the last time you went home?"

Rhys frowned and ran a hand over his beard, "Dunno, been busy."

"Hm." Five hummed again, nodding along. "Haven't we all. Did you know that your landlord called me--your emergency contact--the other day to ask if you were still living there?"

He looked away from Five's piercing stare, taking a pointed sip of his coffee. Even with the creamer in it, it tasted like shit. It burned on the way down, meeting the other four cups he'd already downed.

"That so?" he tried to keep his voice casual. "Still gets rent on time every month--shouldn't matter."

Honestly, he hated that little apartment. There wasn't anything wrong with it per say--it was nestled in a quiet neighborhood and had just enough space to make it feel open. It looked over one of the city gardens. His neighbors were quiet.

Everything was so quiet.

"Rhys," There was a firm intentionality behind the use of his name. In these walls, he wasn't supposed to be Rhys, "What did you do when I was at my worst?"

The words were bursting out of Rhys before he realized he'd fallen for Five's trap hook, line, and sinker.

"Not enough, obviously! And believe me, that was a mistake!"

Two years and hitting that subject still felt like hitting an open wound. He gripped his cup, focusing on the way the outside scalded his palms.

"The finance team has us order our memorial plaques in bulk." Five said and the catch in voice was enough for Rhys to force his eyes back over.

Five tapped his desk, "Mine's in there. Erabelle's is in there. Yours. Every Cipher on our roster. And I will not be putting yours up any time soon."

Rhys rolled his eyes before he really thought about it, leaning back in the chair. It creaked and squeaked at the movement.

"You're such a worrywart." he brushed off with a motion of his hand. "I'm not..."

The words faltered on his tongue. Like that. He almost said. But that wasn't right, that implied that there had been something faulty with Five.

As if Rhys should've have caught him on his downward slide.

"There." he settled on. "Not there."

Five leaned back in his own chair, arms crossed over his chest. His fingers drummed on his upper arms in a ratta-tat-tat beat. Pissed off or thinking, it was hard to tell with the line Rhys walked.

He thought about bringing his dufflebag home, unpacking it instead of just washing his things at the laundromat a few buildings over after he landed just the day before. A cold wash ran over him.

"We're getting too old for this shit." Five finally said and while the tension didn't snap, he had his old field partner back again.

"I'm fine." Rhys ground out, "Stop worrying. You might be an old hag, but I'm fine."

Five fixed him with a withering look that listed every single grey hair on his head and every single popping joint without saying a thing.

"Five years." he said. "Ten, if you're being generous. That's how long the projected lifespan of a Cipher agent is from time of starting service, statistically speaking."

"Yeah, I know." Rhys kicked his legs out, slouching deeper into the embrace of the chair. It was cozy. If Five didn't keep the thermostat cold enough to put Hoth to shame, he'd happily doze off.

Five scrubbed a hand over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in a way usually reserved for the juniormost agents.

"We've been at this for fifteen years now." Five said and Rhys cringed. They'd been bright-eyed busy tailed Academy grads just yesterday, right?

The scars and aches that never abated told a different story.

"Just take a fucking break, Rhys." Five sounded exhausted in that moment--the weight of fifteen years landed on every syllable. "Please?"

Rhys opened his mouth for another retort, then snapped his mouth shut just as fast.

"Alright." He conceded softly. "Fine."

"Dinner at six?" Five prodded and Rhys squeezed his eyes closed before gratefully accepting the olive branch.

"Yeah, dinner at six sounds good."

[pangolin-404]

I've never really drawn or written for it but buddy's crewmate five does medically transition post-company. estrogen and surgery they didn't know they even wanted pre-company because they were so in the depths of despair that drives people to work for the company in the first place. and it takes them crawling out of hell and living among loved ones to look at themself and say, I want to change.

[captainderyn]

Has your OC ever had an experience – or been exposed to an idea – that awoke something in them sexually - or led to them developing an unexpected kink or preference?

(Your choice of OC/s - these aren’t fandoms I’m familiar with, although I am starting DA Origins!)

Hello!! Thank you for the ask and your patience while I got to this 💜 congratulations/welcome to the Dragon Age of it all— Origins holds such a special place in my heart :’D

I fear I must have to go SWTOR, specially my Imperial Agent, Cipher Five, for this because he came right to mind.

Some important background on Five: even before the Trauma (tm) of his professional life and career, he’s always been a very locked down personality who, shall we say, likes to have everything neatly in order and control. Once you load in all the Trauma (tm) of being an Imperial Agent, you get a man who *really* likes to have control.

Cue, Roslynd, Fixer Fourteen, who by nature is the loosening to his straight laces. The WD-40 in his locked up personality if you know what I mean.

And he learns very quickly that it’s very different to let go of his control to her. To take that more submissive role and let her lead. There’s a sort of intoxicating feeling that comes from giving up that control but having the power to revoke that if it gets uncomfortable. To consensually give over the reins instead of having it taken from him.

*slaps Five over the shoulder* this bad boy can fit so many feelings in a teehee haha ask response.

Also, on a lighter note, he also just thinks his wife is really hot when she takes and does what she wants. What can he say, he’s very in love with her 😅

[captainderyn]

I'M DOING MY PART!!!!!

Soft oc asks. 5 for Five haha get it get it (I didn't do this intentionally I only realized as I was typing akdfnsald;kfn;ls)

ahhem. 5. Do they have any collections?

WHEEZE the way this absolutely had me giggling xD meanwhile insert Ben Afleck smoking meme for Five (I cannot express to you how many 5/Five/ect jokes that Rhys probably makes on a day to day basis)

Five definitely does have (intentional) collections. This man craves things that give him identity and a real place in the world outside of being Cipher Five.

His space isn’t cluttered with collections of things, but I imagine his home is filled with gallery walls of photos/art/ect that he feels drawn to (and he’s a Proud Dad who will absolutely have paintings Era has gifted him on the walls because that’s what she does post impintel).

He probably has a stash of thrifted knit and quilted blankets that feel *real* and soothingly tangible and not sterile like the ship he travels in.

The more I think about it the more I think he has a nice coffee nook at home that has his fancy lil equipment and collection of coffee glasses and mugs that he likes.

The thing about Five is that his (and Roslynd’s!) home is about as far from sterile, cold, impint minimalism as you can get. It’s cozy, it’s softly lit, it’s a tapestry of things that make Five feel connected to what he is and likes.

;—; I love my sad agent man. He just wants to nest and be cozy

Soft OC Asks

[captainderyn]

ask and ye shall receive xD <3 for kisses prompts: “stay strong” kisses

Might I give a humble offering of Agent Angst Pie?

Combining this one from @ofmistandrain for Maximum Potential >:)

CW for general angst, mention of injury, ect

—-

Roslynd had no tears left to cry.

Her head pounded from the pressure behind her eyes and sinuses and she could hardly breathe.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried so hard she’d gagged.

It didn’t matter, she’d surpassed that time tenfold by now.

Her body ached from tucking herself awkwardly into the bedside chair, leaning over the armrest so she could pillow her cheek on the bed next to Five.

The rhythmic beeping of the monitors plastered all over him had become background noise a long time ago. In some ways they were now comforting, a persistent reminder of stability.

Roslynd sniffled, smoothing her thumb over the crease between Five’s eyebrows in a gentle caress, as if she could wipe his pain away simple as that.

The medical team had kept him heavily sedated since they’d brought him out of surgery. Though she knew it was for the best, the constant creep of time without him waking deepened the pit in her stomach.

“Take as long as you need, love.” She murmured, smoothing a crease on his forehead.

Stars, had he always looked so worn, so exhausted?

“Just come back to me.”

She carded her fingers through his hair, the gel-like remnants of the bacta tank sticking strands together. She leaned forward to kiss his forehead, hating how chilled he still felt. The sharp-antiseptic scent of it clung to hair, his skin, his hospital clothes.

A quiet knock on the doorframe startled her and she turned her head, dread flooding through her as she braced herself for another med-droid with the same monotone affect delivering more overwhelming information.

Instead, Rhys just held up a duffle bag and a bottle of water.

He looked as drained as she felt, eyes dull and encircled with dark smudges. Where he usually brought an unwavering smile and optimism into a room, he could only muster a brief twitch up at the corner of his mouth.

“I brought what you asked for.” He said, setting the duffle bag down next to her chair.

Roslynd forced herself to break contact with Five long enough to gratefully dig into the bag and pull out a hoodie.

Though it didn’t fix things, it did soothe something in her to pull off the sweater she’d been wearing since the day before and pull on the soft fleece. She snuggled into it, pulling the sleeves down over her hands and breathing deep into the sandalwood and vanilla scent of home.

“Thank you,” she sighed, rubbing one fleece covered hand over her eyes. They throbbed to the touch, practically pulsing with heat, and she winced. “How’s Agent?”

That earned a halfhearted smile from Rhys as he leaned against the back of Roslynd’s chair. It dropped just as fast as he looked at Five; his field partner of almost a decade and friend for longer reduced to such a fragile state.

“Fed and watered.” He said about the cat at home. “I had to physically remove him from the duffle bag.”

A few moments of loaded silence passed between them, filled only with the rain pattering against the windows and the beeping of the monitors.

“They finally woke Nine up.” Rhys finally admitted.

Roslynd leaned her head back to look at him. Rhys was looking with unfocused eyes at Five.

“And?” Roslynd prodded.

From the information she’d been given, minimal and mostly due to being the closest thing Erabelle Torven had to family on paper, the attack on her and Five’s mission team had been targeted directly at her, with Five’s involvement as collateral damage.

“She’s not okay.” Rhys said, scrubbing one hand through his beard.

Roslynd’s chest ached and she nodded. Even if she had no tears left, her eyes still burned.

She unfolded herself from her chair, legs wobbly as she stood for the first time in hours.

Rhys steadied her with a hand on her shoulder, looking at her with concern, “Roslynd—“

She set her hand over Rhys’ with a reassuring squeeze, “Just watch over him, okay?”

Rhys took her spot, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back with a nod.

“Of course.”

—

A med droid stood at a table outside Era’s door, prepping a syringe of bluish liquid. It looked over at her with glowing as she approached.

“Mrs. Slovoko,” it intoned. “I was just prepping a sedative for the patient. Her vitals indicate high levels of distress.”

Roslynd waved it off as she paused in front of the door, “Not necessary at the moment. Give me a little bit of time with her.”

She knew better than anyone how poorly Ciphers reacted towards being drugged in any capacity. But more than that, she was almost certain that all Era needed was a motherly touch.

Inside the room was a mess. The pillows from the bed, except the one held over Era’s face as she curled into herself on the bed, lay against the opposite wall. The blankets were twisted and half off the bed.

Roslyn’s picked up the unopened water bottle rolling across the floor, resting it on the askew side table.

“Era…?” She said, the same way you’d speak to a startled wild animal.

From behind the pillow she could hear Era’s rapid breaths and at Roslynd’s voice a ragged, guttural cry tore from the young agent.

“It’s my fault!” She cried into the pillow, hardly seeming to notice as Roslynd picked her way across the haphazard chaos of the room and sat down next to her on the bed.

She hesitated to touch Era, not sure where bruises and hurts lay hidden beneath her clothes. She knew the predominant damage had been the cybernetics above her eyes, pried out with a vibroknife.

Miraculously, they’d been able to close off the circuits and remove them entirely without damaging her sight permanently. But the stress of everything, present, future, and the weight of Keeper’s expectations on her, seemed to have finally boiled over.

Roslynd could offer platitudes, could remind her that the betrayal of the team of agents they’d partnered with had been wholly unexplained, but instead she said,

“Five’s recovering right now.”

Era gave a hiccuping, keening noise, her entire body shuddering underneath Roslynd’s hand between her shoulders. She rubbed her hand in slow, soothing circles.

“No one told you, did they? She asked and Era shook her head with another muffled cry.

Her heart broke a little extra. While she’d been near inconsolable at her husband’s bedside, Era had been inconsolable with only the worst possible outcomes of what could’ve happened to her pseudo-father.

Era finally lowered the pillow from her face. Her eyes were red and swollen, the blue of them standing out like lamplights as she fixed an agonized look on Roslynd.

“How bad?” She asked, and Roslynd knew she couldn’t keep her expression from faltering. Tears spilled over Era’s lashes again.

Career endingly bad. The kind of bad that could be managed but not healed.

“Nothing that can’t be handled.” She promised, because when it came down to the bottom line, the outcome could’ve been worse.

“Why’d he insist on being there with me?” Era whispered in a cracked voice like broken glass. “Why’d he stop trusting me— he wasn’t supposed to give up on me like that.”

“No, no, Era—“ Roslynd moved so she could pull Era into a hug, smoothing a hand over her tangled hair as she tugged the girl against her chest.

She’d have to help her brush it out. She’d braid it for her, if she wanted.

Era melted into the touch, arms wrapping tightly around Roslynd like a vice as she broke down completely. She wondered with a pang the last time Era had been held like this.

“I was his prodigy, the one he could trust.” Era’s words were near indistinguishable as she buried her face in the fleece of Roslynd’s sweatshirt, “If he wasn’t there with me this wouldn’t have happened.”

Roslynd hugged Era as tightly as she dared, hoping to convey with words she couldn’t say because they weren’t hers to share.

Five had regretted putting her forward as his top graduating cadet ever since Keeper had put her on the Star Cabal missions because of it. Over and over and over again he’d argued against putting a newly minted Cipher onto it, practically begged Keeper to use him instead.

But the Dark Council overrode what the Keeper and his Cipher thought best.

Those weren’t her regrets to share. They were Five’s.

“He didn’t go because he didn’t trust you.” She promised, smoothing Era’s hair back from her cheeks, tacky with drying tears. “He went because he wanted to help you and protect you.”

Era seemed to small right now, every bit the young, young adult thrust into too big of a role.

“I’m so tired.” She whispered, and Roslynd knew she didn’t just mean physically.

Whatever the Star Cabal missions led her on was behind clearances even Roslynd, Five, and Rhys couldn’t get through.

And so Roslynd did the only thing she could, and gave Era the comfort that no one else would. Not as Cipher Nine, but as Erabelle Torven.