#bringing gale is always such a hit or miss

[thoughts-of-bear]

The birthday gift - Part 2

Halsin x f!Tav/Reader

Title might be replaced in the future

-> A/N: Guess what people, I have written more-!

Halsin really does bring out my creativity like nothing else and I even have ideas for a third part **huhoo**

Please be aware that I might change some of this in the future to fit the next part and that i wrote most of it while sleep deprived; if i missed any typos or the likes hit me up with a private message or something

So yeah anyways, about the story:

Halsin and Tav (= You/ Reader) wake up the morning after their first night together (see here for details) and go about their days doing hero stuff. When things turn stressful for you, Halsin comforts you and takes you to Bloomridge park to unwind, not anticipating the effect some simple honey eating has on your desire to suckle ... other things.

-> Genre? Fluff & Smut/ Porn with Plot, some hurt/comfort

-> Tags? Oral + handjob (m!receiving), food play, praise kink (for reader), public (kinda) sex/ outdoor sex, dom!Halsin (but he is still a sweetie pie ofc), uhh yea if i missed anything let me know :)

-> Words? 5.7 k

-> Reblogs & Comments? Greatly appreciated <3

-> Hotel? Trivago

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The warm rays of the sun filtering through the windows greet you when you open your eyes the next morning.

You hear the soft rustling of your companions getting ready for the day as the delicious smell of fried bacon wafts over from where Gale is undoubtedly preparing breakfast over the fireplace. You feel your stomach grumble, and immediately a hand wraps around from behind you to gently rub your belly.

“Hungry already, my heart?” Halsin whispers playfully. “Did I not sate you last night?”

A sly smile spreads across his face as you turn around to the large elf holding you.

You blush at the thought and slap his hand away in mocked affront.

“Stop teasing me; you know full well how good you are!” He chuckles, his eyebrow raised in a smug expression that makes you want to crawl back under the blanket and hide your face in embarrassment. “You are impossible!” Scrambling to your feet, you turn to leave and get dressed for the day, but Halsin quickly sits up and pulls you back into his lap.

“Last night was wonderful”, Halsin mumbles into your ear as he places a soft kiss on your head. “I agree”, you sigh.

“Silvanus has truly blessed me with you.” You smile as you lean into his embrace. Halsin cups your face to look into your eyes, once again making your heart stumble over itself over the sheer beauty of the man before you. Your breath hitches as you lose yourself in his gaze, the brown flecks in the blue and green of his irises glowing in the sunlight.

“I want you to know that wherever this takes us, you will always have me by your side. I would give whatever it takes to protect you.” Your heart swells in sheer adoration, and at a loss for words, you kiss him deeply, trying to put all of your gratitude into that simple gesture.

He smiles at you before he pulls you both up and gently guides you to where your party has already gathered for breakfast, his hand firmly in yours.

You expected surprised faces —maybe even a disapproving ‘tsk’ from Lae’zel— but when you and Halsin sit down with the others, you are merely greeted with a smirk and a knowing glance from Shadowheart, who occupies the bed next to yours and has probably already spread the word of your union.

“It’s about time you two got your hands on each other”, Gale says as he hands you your plates. “I know what sad, hopeless pining looks like, and frankly, it was getting embarrassing. Even for my standards”, he adds with a sympathetic chuckle.

“Why are we not eating downstairs?” you manage to ask in an attempt to change the topic. Thankfully, it seems to work as Gale starts to complain about the quality of food in the Elfsong and how infinitely better the establishments in Waterdeep are.

The others eagerly join in the discussion, so you and Halsin manage to eat your eggs and bacon in peace without being bothered by any questions.

The day is already warm when you step out of the tavern and head down the main road to explore the city a bit more. The streets are bustling with people going about their business, seemingly unbothered by the imminent threat of the Absolute and the murders in the city. The hours pass as you look for clues on the murders in the city that hopefully lead you to Orin’s hideaway. It is only in the late hours of the afternoon that you stop at Cora Highberry’s wine festival and find a red-clothed dwarf about to attack her that you finally get the clue you’ve been missing.

Although the dwarf escapes before you can kill him, you come across a bloodstained piece of paper between the bodies of the doppelgängers that have been hiding among the festival guests.

Written full of names, some of whom are already crossed out, you realise that this must be a target list of some sort, with the notes on the sides indicating that the victims’ hands are to be brought to a ‘tribunal’ as a bloody offering for Bhaal, proving what you had feared to be true: that Orin, as the chosen of Bhaal, is behind the whole murder plot.

You need to find the source of this all, but for now, you decide to find the next victims and warn them, if possible.

Checking in on Cora and her husband to see whether they were alright, you then make your way to the next target on the list, a tailor with the name of Figaro Pennygood, who calls himself the ‘Facemaker’.

By asking around, you eventually find the ‘Facemaker’s Boutique’, a moderately large house located directly on the right of the road leading up to the gate to the upper city, next to a jeweler, and directly behind Bloomridge Park.

Something feels off the moment you enter; besides the two shop attendants, there are no customers, and the doors leading to what seem to be the clothing rooms are closed.

Hoping the staff doesn’t notice you, you open the doors and take in the scene that unfolds in front of you.

The dwarf—Dolor, as you had found out—paces behind a stool on which another dwarf sits, facing the mirror in front of him, his dark-skinned face empty and still, only the reflection of his eyes able to express the terror that has gripped him.

Dolor has not yet noticed you, as he is occupied with revealing his plans to his victim, and you take the extra time to take in more of the room, with the seemingly lifeless body of the Flaming Fist you had briefly encountered in the Elfsong catching your eye. She too has been paralysed by Dolor, who now raises his dagger to slit the Facemaker’s throat.

You interrupt him before he can strike, but the battle that ensues is bloody. The shop attendants you met in the front room turn out to be doppelgängers too, and with the Fist and Pennygood paralysed, you are outnumbered. But between punches, kicks, healing spells, and fireballs being flung, you eventually manage to turn the fight around. With a disgusting crunch, you bring your fist down on Dolor’s neck, his body finally crumbling beneath you.

You let out an exhausted huff and exchange an assuring glance with Halsin before you search your pack for some remedy against the paralysis that still has its hold on the Fist and the Figaro. Before long, both victims are back on their feet and luckily unharmed, although quite shaken by the unexpected attack.

Thankful for his rescue, the ‘Facemaker’ assures you a very generous discount on all of his wares, and with the help of Devella Fountainhead, the Flaming Fist, you figure out the meaning of the letters in Dolor’s pocket, which finally give you the much-needed information as to where Orin is hiding.

Apparently, the purpose behind all this is to be judged by the Tribunal of Bhaal to become an Unholy Assassin in his name.

Accessed by the local shop “Candulhallow’s Tombstones”, the tribunal resides somewhere under the city, and the door is to be opened by a passphrase scrawled into the corner of one of the papers.

When you stumble into your room in the Elfsong a few exhausting, preparation-filled days later, completely spent and eagerly awaiting your bed, you are greeted with a worrying sight: Yenna, the little red-headed girl whom you have given some coin back in Rivington and who joined your camp a while ago, stands before you with Lae’zel above her, seething, a knife at the girl's throat, and a firm grip on her hair holding her in place.

“What is going on here?” you ask, approaching tentatively.

“I swear I didn't do any-”, the girl starts, but Lae’zel jerks her head back and hisses, “Shut up, abomination!”

She looks at you now, her gaze filled with rage. “She isn’t what she pretends to be! I saw that filthy shapeshifter transform before she snuck back into our camp. She’s trying to infiltrate us and then murder us in our sleep!”

You hesitate, because that does sound like Orin. And no matter how cruel your githyanki companion might be at times, even she wouldn’t hurt a child without good reason. You assess the scene before you, carefully considering who might be lying. The fear in the eyes of the little girl looks genuine; her trembling legs and the tears that threaten to spill from her eyes are honest. As your gaze wanders back to Lae'zel, you notice an excited glimmer in her eyes, buried deep beneath the rage she is showing. She is enjoying this.

With a firm voice, you command her to step away and leave the girl be.

“Oh, you’re such a spoilsport”, she whines with a shrill, unnatural voice, and you watch in horror as her bones crack themselves into painful angles, as her skin seems to melt into white goo before eventually turning back into another form—one you recognise.

“Orin!”, you spit out. “I suppose I should’ve expected this.”

She tilts her head with a wicked smile. “I almost got you”, she giggles in her sickeningly sweet tone. You glance around. “What have you done with Lae’zel? Where is she?”, you demand, worry filling your chest.

“I have assassins all over this wretched city, and word has reached my ear that you have killed a most promising student of mine and have now set your gaze upon the Murder Tribunal itself.” She narrows her eyes. “That is why I’m here. Oh, don’t worry, little hero, your pet is safe—for now. But that might change very soon if you don’t carefully consider what I’m about to propose to you.” You grit your teeth, but gesture for her to continue. “You see, the little tyrant is a thorn in my side, always wagging his tongue about his little plans... Oh, how I want to slice him open and spill his  crimson." At that, she clutches her curved dagger to her chest in an almost loving manner, “but I cannot touch him; he made me swear an oath not to harm him.”

Her intense stare fixes yours now, her voice trembling with fervour. “But you can. Go and bring slaughter upon Gortash, and I promise I won’t harm your little pet. But disagree”, she hisses now, “and your pet will be only the first gift to my beloved Father. If you succeed, though, we will fight fairly for the Netherstones, and the loser shall be a most glorious offering to the Dread Lord! I will watch you, little hero.” And with these words, she twists a ring on her finger and vanishes in a cloud of red mist.

“Fuck!”, you exclaim, the only word you feel appropriate to use to express your frustration over the predicament you are in.

“I never knew you could swear, darling”, Astarion teases, although you notice that his usual sassy tone is wavering too.

“Well, I think it's clear what we do now”, Gale says, breaking the ensuing silence. “We have to go find and rescue Lae’zel; we can't just leave her in Orin's clutches!”

You nod slowly, although you dread what that means. “If we confront Orin while Gortash is still alive, we might as well give Lae’zel up entirely. So, our only chance is to kill him and fulfil our part of Orin’s bargain.”

“Our alliance with Gortash was bound to break sooner or later; that's not what worries me”, you continue with a sigh. “I just have no idea how we're supposed to kill him without his Steel Watchers bashing in our skulls.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to build in your forehead.

“Then it's best we quickly find out where these things are built, and then we'll surely discover how to disable them.”

You wish you could share in Halsin’s optimism, but with more surety than you feel, you agree to head out the next day to find the Steel Watcher’s origins. Satisfied, Gale claps his hands together. “Shall I prepare dinner?”

With these words, your little gathering dissolves, with every companion except for Gale and Wyll, who were occupied with cooking, retreating to their beds, and going about their business.

Your shoulders drop, and Halsin wraps his arms around you from behind, planting a kiss on the top of your head before soothingly rubbing your shoulders. You turn around and face him to rest your forehead against his chest, his earthy scent settling over your senses like a soft blanket. He holds your small form closely against him, his hand wandering over your back in gentle strokes.

“It will be alright. We’ll get Lae’zel back in one piece. Whatever we need to do, rest assured that I will be by your side all the time.” Silent tears escape your eyes at his words, giving way to the overwhelming exhaustion that has built up over the past few months on the road and in the city.

“I know. It’s all just so much at once. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” You sniff a little, and try to steady your voice with a deep breath. “But knowing you are by my side makes it all a lot easier.”

You feel Halsin’s chest vibrate as he hums in approval, before he lifts your chin up and locks eyes with you, his gaze full of warmth and admiration.

“Anything that troubles you, you can share with me. I love you.” Your chest clenches and your heart thumps frantically hearing these words from him, and you can only stare at him in surprise, lost for words. He chuckles and kisses you swiftly before you can even begin to answer.

“Now, let me take care of you”, he whispers as he takes your hand and leads you to his bed. He motions for you to sit down on the mattress before reaching for his pack at the foot of the bed, searching its contents.

When he has what he was looking for, he walks over to the basin near you, filling a bowl with warm water and grabbing a cloth from the table next to the basin. He places both things on his nightstand, dipping a corner of the cloth into the water and beginning to clean you from the blood and dirt that have gathered on your skin over the past day. He takes one of your hands in his and dabs the cloth over your bruised knuckles before he removes the blood from your arms and forehead. You regard him as he works in silence, your body warm from the closeness of you two and the gentleness with which he treats you.

When he is finished with cleaning you up, he takes your right hand in both of his, making it seem all the smaller. He presses his thumbs into your palm firmly and moves them up to your fingers, gently stretching them and massaging all the tension from your hand. When he is satisfied with his work, he repeats these motions on your left hand, eliciting a sigh from you when his ministrations relieve a particularly painful knot in it.

“Tell me, my heart, why do you insist on using your fists to bring on our enemies’ demise when your monastery has trained you in quarterstaffs just as well?”

Halsin looks up at you, the playful smile tugging at his lips only partially hiding the concern for your wellbeing in his eyes. You merely shrug, since you have never given your preference much thought before.

With your hands freshly wrapped in bandages, you join your companions for dinner, used to Gale cooking on the fireplace by now and enjoying the meal well enough. You pass dinner in silence, only occasionally weighing in on the conversation the others are having, your thoughts swirling around the upcoming day and the task that it brings with it.

You still lay awake as the hushed conversations have long died down, listening to the calm breathing of your companions, until you eventually fall asleep to the rhythmic rise and fall of Halsin’s chest against your back.

You sleep an uneasy sleep, memories from shadows and bloody fights mingling with images of Lae’zel’s empty eyes staring at you and of your companions laying in a puddle of blood while Orin stands above them, clutching her blade with a wicked grin.

When she lunges at you, you awake with a start, the room still dark and quiet around you, the silence only broken by the anxious thudding of your heart.

The shape of the large elf beside you stirs before Halsin gently wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

“My heart?” Halsin whispers, his voice still groggy from the trance he has just woken up from.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you”, you sigh. “I just had a nightmare. Go back to your meditation; I will be alright.” You move to cup his face in your hand, planting a little kiss on his lips. You feel his mouth twist into a smile beneath you before you pull away again, and Halsin shakes his head.

“I have a better idea to calm you down. Remember the park we passed yesterday? It’s not the wilderness I am used to, but whenever I need a place to calm down, I feel safest among the Oak Father’s creations. Perhaps a stroll through the park will help you, even if it’s only a small oasis in a city like this.”

Still unsure of what you had done to deserve a man like this, you nod your head in agreement.

“Alright.” You kiss him again. “Thank you, Halsin, that is very kind of you. Let’s bring some food as well - who knows when the next chance to eat breakfast in nature arises in a place like this.”

You both scramble out of bed, taking extra care to be quiet so as not to wake up the rest of the party. Once you have packed a small picnic basket, you walk down the stairs of the Elfsong and step out into the early morning air.

It’s still pleasantly cool, the sun not yet warming the city streets. Halsin takes your hand in his, and together you make your way to Bloomridge Park, the warmth of his presence near you slowly dissipating the uneasiness that had lingered after your dreams.

The sky is starting to light up with soft golden rays when you reach the park, the day already promising to be as warm as the last one. Halsin inhales deeply, and you do the same; the smell of the lilac blossoms is heavy in the air. You let out a relieved sigh, feeling much calmer already, and you wonder whether that is because of the surrounding nature or more because Halsin is by your side.

You wander further through the flowers and trees, the chirping of the resident birds growing ever louder, until you eventually decide to settle down on a small hill in the back of the park.

Halsin has brought a blanket that he now spreads on the ground, careful not to damage the flowers growing nearby.

With a sigh, you fall down on the blanket, relishing in the peace and serenity surrounding you and admiring the beautiful red and golden streaks that the morning light paints across the sky.

After a while, you look back to Halsin and notice that he’s staring at you, his gaze fixed on your features and full of a warmth that rivals that of the rising sun.

You blush, feeling utterly naked under his careful scrutiny.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask him in a small voice, feeling somewhat self-conscious now.

“No reason. Just admiring nature’s most perfect creation. You truly are a feast for my eyes.” He raises his hand to softly stroke a strand of hair away from your eyes before he bends down to you to plant a gentle kiss on your now overheated cheeks.

“If you keep saying things like that, I think I might explode”, you whisper with a smile as you sit up and hide your face in his chest, hiding the tears welling up in your eyes.

You feel him chuckle and stroke your back, before he reaches for the picnic basket you have brought.

Enjoying the still-quiet city and the birdsong around you, you begin to eat in silence, but it isn’t long before Halsin lets out an unsatisfied huff.

“Where are you going?” you ask him in surprise as he gets to his feet.

“Wait and see”, he replies with a smug grin, walking over to a nearby oak. When he steps a little to the side, you see that he has stopped in front of a beehive that clings to the tree. He reaches into his pocket and produces his pipe, enlightening it with a snap of his fingers. You watch as he blows the smoke over the buzzing hive in an attempt to calm the bees down before he confidently reaches for a comb dripping with sweet honey.

But as soon as he gets a good grip on the wax, he jerks his hand back with a hiss, taking only a small part of the honeycomb he had aimed for with him. He regards his meagre harvest before he looks up to you and scratches his head sheepishly, an embarrassed half-grin crossing his features.

“Well, that wasn’t half as impressive as I had planned.”

You cannot help but laugh at the druid’s nearly juvenile attempt at courting you, before you rush over to him to help heal the several red welts that have started forming on his hand and lower arm. He chuckles and thanks you by bending down to kiss your forehead before he takes your hand in his non-sticky one and leads you back to the rest of your breakfast.

He drizzles some of the honey directly onto the fruits you have brought and feeds you piece by piece. Turning back to his catch while you are still occupied with chewing, he notices the honey has started running down his wrist and quickly catches the stray drop with the tip of his tongue, deftly running it over the defined muscles of his forearm.

You almost choke on your piece of apple—the gorgeous sight before you reminding you all too intensely of the first night you had shared with Halsin. Although you do your best to mask the physical reaction that simple movement has caused in you with a coughing fit, Halsin seems to know exactly what you’ve been thinking.

With a malicious grin, he gathers up some more honey with the two fingers of his other hand.

“Open your mouth”, he commands, and his sudden change of tone sends shivers of excitement down your body. You do as he says, and he shoves the fingers into your mouth. Instinctively, you begin to suckle at them, the sweetness of the honey running down your throat and the sensuality of the situation making heat pool in your stomach.

You look at Halsin, his eyes fixed on your mouth around his fingers and dark with desire for you.

He pulls his fingers out again, leaning in and purring into your ear, “That’s a good girl. With you behaving like that, I cannot help but wonder how those pretty lips of yours feel wrapped around my cock~”.

You stifle a gasp at the bold statement, but the heat that is creeping up your neck and into your cheeks betrays the effect his words have on you.

You trail his movements with your gaze, wetting your lips as he scoops up more honey with his fingers and holds them in front of you. Trying to look up at him as innocently as possible, you lick some of it off with the tip of your tongue before you take them back into your mouth completely. Your round eyes looking up at him as sweetly as this make him want to shove his cock down your throat until you’re gagging, but Halsin reminds himself that he has to take it slowly with you—for now.

“That’s it, very good, little flower”, he hums, the sight of you sucking and licking his fingers alone is testing his self-control immensely.

The small moan that leaves you now as he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of your mouth makes him tense up with barely hidden arousal, the bulge in his pants getting more obvious the more you suck his fingers.

You let your hands wander slowly up his thighs towards his crotch, fumbling with the laces of his pants. You are determined to repay Halsin for the care and kindness he has showered you with the previous nights, feeling inadequate in comparison to his skill as a lover.

You are still fumbling with his waistband and simultaneously rubbing his hard cock through the fabric of his britches, when he takes his fingers out of your mouth and pulls you in for a passionate kiss.

He groans as he tastes the remaining honey on your tongue, the sweetness of it and yourself combining into an intoxicating mix.

You feel slightly dizzy when you pull back from him, breathing heavily both because of the intensity of the kiss and from the arousal thrumming through your veins and heating up the entirety of your body.

“Halsin-”, you interrupt him as he tries to move your hand from his pants and instead lower you down onto the blanket, “l-let me take care of you this time. Please, I need this.”

He stops in his tracks, raising an eyebrow in question. “Are you sure that isn’t too much? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Not that I would mind you trying~“, he adds with a lewd grin that is quickly wiped off his face when you lower yourself onto your belly and free his erection from his britches.

You begin stroking him and are immediately rewarded with a low grunt, Halsin’s eyes now fixed on your flushed face.

With your elbows propped up, you gently nudge his legs further apart to get better access to his crotch and start licking his already swollen tip, eliciting a sharp hiss from your lover.

Splaying your hands across his thighs, you run your tongue along his shaft, slowly stroking from base to tip and back a few times before you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, careful to keep your teeth out of the way. It is a lot. Your mouth already feels full, and you’re not even halfway down. But you try to take more anyway, letting a bit more of his length slide between your lips.

Halsin rewards you with a low moan, the sight of your mouth wrapped around him and your lips darkened with your saliva makes his cock twitch as you continue moving, your head bobbing up and down between his legs.

Halsin snakes his hand into your hair, his firm grip guiding you at a pace that has him growling.

“By Silvanus, you’re incredible- hngh!”

You feel Halsin throb in your mouth, and the muscles in his thighs tense in an attempt to stop himself from bucking into your throat.

“W-where did you learn to use your mouth like that?”

You pull your mouth off his tip with a small pop and look up at him, your lips curling into an embarrassed sort of grin.

“Cucumbers”, you shrug.

“Cucumbers?”

You nod, sure your face must be bright red by now.

Halsin just stares at you, and you begin to feel a little self-conscious as he suddenly lets out a hearty laugh, his whole body vibrating beneath your hands.

“You’re full of surprises, my little flower.” He shakes his head and gently strokes your hair, before his gaze falls back onto your reddened lips.

You see the desire flare up in his eyes again, and feel his hand in your hair tighten its grip.

He bends down towards you, and with his fist guiding you back towards his erection, he whispers into your ear. “Now, be a good girl and keep sucking my cock. I want to see you swallow.”

You gulp, his commanding tone so different from his usual gentle one yet nevertheless sending sparks straight into your core and causing more wetness to gather between your thighs.

Licking your lips, you obey and take Halsin into your mouth again, this time swirling your tongue around to taste the pearl of precum that has gathered on his tip, spreading the salty, unfamiliar taste around.

“Gods, if I’d known your mouth feels so heavenly wrapped around me, I’d have let you try this sooner-”, he growls, his body tensing under your ministrations.

Sliding further down, you press your tongue on the underside of his cock and hollow your cheeks, Halsin groaning in response. With a sigh, he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, enjoying the wet-hot sensation of your mouth taking him in.

His hand in your hair that has been steadily guiding you begins to increase the pace now, his climax approaching with every move of your tongue against him.

His length fills your mouth completely now, and you try to steady your movements in order to avoid gagging, focusing on your breathing.

You feel Halsin twitch in your mouth, signalling to you that he is close to release, so you raise your head a bit and wrap your hand around the base of his cock, saliva from your previous efforts dribbling down your chin and onto your hand.

He makes a strangled noise as you begin pumping him while your mouth and tongue work on his tip, alternating between sucking and licking, and he cannot help but buck his hips into your mouth, his self-control finally leaving him.

“Silvanus, preserve me—ugh—I'm close!”

You gag as he thrusts into your throat, struggling to accommodate his length while focusing on repressing the uncomfortable feeling that sends tears to your eyes.

But you are determined to make this work, to make Halsin feel as good as he made you feel, so you try to ignore the gagging and let him fuck your mouth, moans and curses falling from his lips as he does so.

You feel him twitching inside you, his release approaching ever faster, and you look up at him, not wanting to miss a second of the pleasure you’re about to grant him.

With his gaze locked onto yours and your hand still firmly wrapped around the base of his shaft, your mouth so willingly accepting his desperate thrusts, it doesn’t take long for him to reach climax, hips and thighs tensing before he jerks, shooting ropes of thick, warm cum into your mouth.

“Swallow”, he commands in a raspy voice before his body goes limp beneath you and he leans back, arms behind him supporting him so he could see how you struggled and failed to swallow his seed, some of it leaking out of your mouth and dripping down your chin.

Your abused throat is protesting as you finally manage to gulp it all down, your face flushing with self-consciousness as you realise that you might, in fact, not have been as ready to take him as you had initially thought.

But these thoughts vanish as Halsin pulls you into his lap and softly strokes your head. He plants a little kiss on your cheek before he murmurs into your ear, his voice still ragged.

“Good girl. You’ve taken me so well.”

You moan at the praise, your so-far neglected pussy twitching as his words send sparks down your spine.

Halsin chuckles and slowly slides a hand under your waistband and into your smallclothes, stroking your slick folds and eliciting moans and sighs from you as he massages your clit, all the while kissing you and murmuring praise for your efforts into your ear.

It doesn’t take long for you to unravel as well, cumming on his hand with a muffled scream, biting down onto the tunic Halsin was still wearing.

Exhausted, you collapse onto the blanket, planting your head on Halsin’s lap and closing your eyes, the now-risen sun warming your face as you smile happily.

Halsin adjusts his hips a bit and readjusts his britches, carefully surveying the park to see if anyone else has entered by now. Luckily, you two were still alone, the only sign of life being the faint sounds of the streets beyond the park slowly filling with people.

He glances back down at you and begins to gently stroke your hair that is spread out over his legs, the sweet smile on your mouth in complete contrast to the earth-shattering orgasm you gave him with that same mouth just moments ago.

“Thank you, my heart; that was amazing. Unexpected, but nevertheless positively breath-taking.” He watches as your smile broadens at his praise and his heart swells with adoration at the cute little dimples in your cheeks.

“I’m glad you liked it”, you try to say, but instead croak out more than anything. Halsin frowns, worry beginning to cloud his eyes.

“Sorry, I think I might have overestimated myself a bit there. Bitten off more than I could chew. Figuratively, of course”, you add with a shy grin.

He smiles, but then his gaze turns solemn again. “You should’ve told me right away. I hurt you”, he grimaces before he grazes his fingers over your throat, his touch featherlight and glowing with a faint blue light. The healing spell soothes your ache, and you sigh contentedly.

“All right, next time I will tell you, should you hurt me accidentally”, you mumble, sleep slowly creeping up at you in the comfortable warmth of your lover's lap.

Halsin hums in approval, satisfied with your answer.

“I shall look forward to next time, then.”

You slowly drift off, the smell of the flowers around you and the chirping birds lulling you into sleep as you both lay there for a while before you have to get back to your companions to begin the day’s work.

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Thanks for reading <3 I hope you enjoyed it!

[aro-attorneys]

Idk what it is w allied NPCs who refuse to jump in combat. Why are you dashing through the difficult terrain that's also an AOE spell? You are wasting a full action here just. Jump out. Idiots.

[thetriumphantpanda]

thunderstruck | marcus pike

Summary | You're scared of storms but it's okay, because Marcus always knows how to soothe you.

Pairing | Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.4K

Warnings | Explicit - descriptions of thunderstorms, softness/fluff, rain, established relationship, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, our boy Marcus just being Marcus. No use of y/n.

Authors Note | This is my contribution to @undercoverpena's April Showers Challenge. It's a blessing that I got anything out because this brief gave me so many ideas, but I've missed my man and knew he would be the one I'd want to comfort me through a rain storm. Enjoy.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Divider by @saradika

Are you busy?

No baby, what’s up?

I don’t like the storm.

They’ve never been your favourite. Something about growing up on the coast, when the rain and wind would bring the waves crashing near your home, and your parents would walk about like nothing was wrong and there wasn’t the immediate danger of your house being washed out to sea. The nights, when the wind would clatter the shutters against the windows and drag tiles from the roof to break onto the ground. It might be Washington D.C. now and you might live in a new apartment building, but it doesn’t make the torrential rain and gale force winds any easier to handle.

You’re sitting on the couch, curtains drawn with all the lights on to try and make it feel less scary, but when the first clap of thunder hits you jump and scream all the same, burying yourself further under the blanket, some childhood wish for that to keep you safe.

There’s a knock at the door a little while later, the only thing that could drag you from the warm cocoon of blankets. Padding gently to the door, you open it, Marcus stood in front of you, dripping wet from the storm outside. He steps across the threshold, arm wrapping around your waist as he dips to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

“This feels stupid.” You grumble as you shut the door behind him, following close to his heels as he walks through your apartment, so familiar with it now that it feels like home to have to him here.

“It’s not stupid if you’re scared, baby.” He soothes, sitting down on your couch, opening his arm to encourage you to snuggle into his side, which you do without question.

You can feel his thumb tracing soothing circles on your arm as you settle a little, but it’s short-lived, when a crash of thunder bellows through the room from outside, making you jump and bury your head into the side of his neck with a groan.

“I blame the coast,” You speak softly, “I was always so scared of it blowing our house away when I was small.”

“You know what helps?” Marcus murmurs against your head, another soft kiss placed to it.

“Hmmm?”

“Sometimes you’ve just got to be louder than the storm.”

You look up at him, confused for a second, until you can feel him moving the two of you, laying you gently down on the couch. His mouth sponges kisses across your neck, trailing down across your collarbone before he drags it away to peel your tank top from your body. You hear Marcus hum in approval at your lack of bra, his hands gently pressing your tits together before his mouth is suckling a nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking over it until it’s stiffened to a peak, giving the same attention to the other side until you’re gasping, bucking your hips into his, the bulge in his trousers evident as his mouth trails further south, tongue leaving a trail from your tits and down your stomach until he gets to the waistband of your pyjama pants.

“Lift up.” He murmurs softly, voice almost drowned out by the constant smattering of rain against the windows.

Doing as you’re told, you lift your hips up, letting him hook his fingers into the waistband to drag them down your legs. You miss the weight and warmth of his body when it’s gone, but then you feel his warm palms on the inside of your thighs, pressing your legs open, and then you don’t mind so much at all, especially when you look up at him, watching him admire the already sticky mess accumulating between your thighs.

Marcus moves to run his thumb across your folds, dragging your slick across your skin, but not daring to dip below to where you truly want him.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He muses, moving to situate himself between your legs, hot mouth pressing wet kisses to the delicate skin of your thighs, teasing you by putting his mouth everywhere but where you need it most.

“M-Marcus, please.” You whimper when his face moves, he’s so close to your cunt you can feel the hot of his breath.

“What do you want, baby?” He asks, running that damn thumb over your folds once more, this time though, his other thumb rests to the side, gently pulling your folds apart to bare you to him, “Want me to kiss it a little?”

“Oh god, oh please Marcus, please.”

“Sound so pretty when you beg for it.” He speaks, and you’re about to say something smart when he leans forward and presses a single, open-mouth kiss to your clit.

It’s tiny in comparison to what you really want, but it makes you throw your head back anyway, back arching, trying to press your cunt closer to his face. Thankfully, he takes pity on you, kisses your clit once, twice more, and then you can feel the tip of his tongue, flicking up against your clit, then dragging back down, sometimes circling, working you gently until you’re whining and bucking your hips into his face.

You’d almost forgotten about the storm outside, the movements of his tongue distracting you just enough, until the loudest clap of thunder echoes through the apartment. It makes you scream, jumping slightly, but you feel Marcus’ hands grip tightly to the skin of your thighs, tearing his mouth away from you. You look down at him, mouth glistening with a mix of your slick and his spit, glint across his brown eyes.

“What did I say?” He asks, squeezing at your thighs again, “What did I tell you earlier?”

“Um…” You wrack your brain, trying to remember, “I needed to be louder than the storm?”

“That’s right, my clever girl,” He praises, heat rising across your skin, “If you scream for me, you won’t notice.”

Once again, before you can retort with your smart mouth, he’s back on you, lips closing around your clit, tongue resuming it’s flicking across your bundle of nerves, but then you can feel two of his fingers sinking inside you, easing into your walls, curling up against that perfect spot inside of you.

It makes you cry out, his name dropping from your lips as you arch off the couch, his tongue working in time to the press of his two fingers in your cunt. You’re chanting his name into the room, moving your hips in time to the movements of his hands until you’re teetering on the edge of bliss. He knows, of course he does, the way your walls start to flutter around his fingers, so he slows his fingers, keeping you dangling over the edge but not quite pushing you just yet.

“Marcus p-please,” You whimper, hands tangling in his hair, “Please make me come.”

“You asked so nicely, baby,” He muses against your pussy, letting his fingers curl just perfectly against the spongy spot inside you, “Whenever you’re ready honey.”

It takes very little more, his mouth suckling at your clit, his fingers pressing inside you, and then you’re crashing, skin aflame with pleasure as you do exactly as he told you and scream his name into the living room, body convulsing, gushing around his fingers as they still inside you. You’re clenching around him as his tongue moves gently across your clit to work you through your orgasm until you’re boneless and pliant beneath him.

Marcus drags his fingers from you, letting them run up the skin of your thighs, as he finally relents and pulls away from you, just in time for more thunder to sound out, this time a little further away.

“Well, listen there,” He whispers, fingers moving to undo the button of his trousers, “Storm still hasn’t passed,” He speaks as he drags the zipper down, “Think you can make a little more noise, baby?”

You reach up, hand clutching the back of his neck to pull him back down on top of you, mouth meeting his, tasting yourself on his tongue as he kisses you before you pull away, “I can make all the noise you want.”

[middlingmay]

Clegan during summer headcanons

I have four AU posts drafted and awaiting an edit, but it's a gorgeous day where I live and it got me thinking of summer Clegan sweetness. Feel free to add your own!

Gale can while away hours, and I mean hours just lying in the grass staring at the sky. He was worried the war would have ruined the sky for him, whether by making it difficult to look at or missing it too much, but that's not the case.

John panics the first time he doesn't come home until near sunset, but it all evaporates when he sees Gale walk in sun-kissed and loose and more relaxed than he's been in months.

On the other hand, summer fills John with energy and enthusiasm. He wants to go everywhere and do every little thing that tickles his fancy.

Whenever he goes to the park, local kids know Mr Egan is good for a game and can always be roped in to boost numbers. He doesn't hit the ball to far when they want to play baseball either, like other grown ups.

Gale always brings a book whenever they so much as veer near the park because of this. Because one time that kid bolted across the street to tug John into a game of soccer, of all things.

They both love the heat, of course. An aversion to the cold is something neither of them have gotten over. They drink their coffee scalding under the summer sun, and don't crowd the ice cream parlours like everyone else.

John and Gale find an activity they both equally love in swimming. They spend whole days down by a quiet lake, racing like children to make-believe finish lines that move depending on who wins and who loses.

Gale is the best diver and likes to pull John under the water when he least expects it.

John retaliates by picking Gale up and flinging him across the water like he's a skipping stone.

They always end the day panting and happy, drying off in the sun, running gentle fingers down arms or legs or through hair, whichever is closer.

[whatacaitastrophe]

Everything Has Changed - Chapter 12

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Electric Touch" - Taylor Swift ft. Fall Out Boy

Chapter Warnings: More idiots talking about their feelings.

Spotify Playlist: Here

Author Notes: thank you all so much for reading, reblogging, liking, and commenting on this fic (and the first one)! if you are interested in supporting me in other ways, I have a Ko-Fi link <3

i also have a discord server! it was created to coincide with my twitch channel but you do NOT need to follow/subscribe/watch my twitch streams to come hang out with us <3 we talk a lot about bg3 and share memes and fics.

Chapter 12: Bring Me Back to Life

The tower was quiet when Fallon and Tara returned, and Fallon was immediately suspicious. The tower was large, and Fallon hadn’t been given the full tour yet, of course, but it felt odd to her that they were greeted with silence. “Is this place always this quiet, or did Gale and Astarion go somewhere?” She asked Tara as the tressym jumped down to the floor from Fallon’s shoulder and began to guide Fallon up the staircase and through the tower.

“It’s always rather quiet, I’m afraid– comes with the territory of the tower being as large as it is. Then again, Mr. Dekarios didn’t host many guests before he got picked up by the nautiloid, or even before he ended up with an explosive in his chest. He often went to the homes of colleagues for social calls and she preferred it when Mr. Dekarios went to her. As you know, everything was on her terms.”

Fallon nodded in understanding, her blood boiling only slightly at the mention of Mystra. She was not stupid enough to believe she could ever take on a goddess and win, but that didn’t keep Fallon from imagining how satisfying breaking Mystra’s nose would be. As they ascended the stairs in the tower, the quiet halls began becoming less so, and music began to fill her ears. Not just any music, either, some of her favorite tunes that Fallon often found herself humming idly. The smells of food being prepared hit her senses next, and Fallon smiled to herself as she slowly began to realize at least part of what was going on here. When she and Tara reached the fourth floor landing, Fallon automatically began walking towards the music and the smells coming from where she could only assume the kitchen was located. However, Tara quickly cut off her path, nearly causing Fallon to trip over the tressym as she stumbled to get out of the way.

“Apologies, miss Fallon, you’ll want to follow me this way if you would like to freshen up before dinner.” The tressym’s words were a suggestion, but her tone suggested otherwise, and Fallon took the hint: she should go put on that dress they just purchased. Tara led her towards a half-open door, and when she used her body to push it open, Fallon gasped. The music hadn’t been coming from the kitchen. It was coming from the bathroom, where a full, steaming tub piled with bubbles, a glass of wine (champagne from the look of the bubbles floating in the glass), and a path lined with black dahlia petals waited for her. Next to the glass of champagne, which sat on a small table next to the bath, there were two more folded pieces of parchment. 

Fallon looked at Tara in awe. “They planned…all of this?” 

While it wasn’t possible for the tressym to smile, exactly, the sentiment reached her eyes all the same as she nodded. “I’ve been instructed to tell you that when you’re ready, take the stairs to the next level of the tower and follow the path laid out for you. Enjoy your evening, miss Fallon.” With that, Tara exited the room and Fallon followed behind her only to close the door. She reached into her bag and pulled out the carefully wrapped package containing her dress and she opened it. The material glimmered as it cascaded to the floor, and Fallon grinned as she draped it over the wooden dressing divider in the room. Then she turned her attention back to the table with the champagne and the letters, scooping up the one from Astarion first, this time. 

“ Hello, Darling,

You’ve probably figured out by now that the sorcerer and I are up to something quite grand and romantic (if I do say so myself), but it is very important to me that you understand I expect nothing from you in return. Not your forgiveness, sex, or anything else I might stand to gain by orchestrating this plan with Gale. The idea may have come about because we’ve done things that require atonement, but you deserve every last piece of the gesture we planned for you, just because you’re you: the first person I’ve ever truly cared for aside from myself in two centuries. 

Even if this evening comes without expectation of receiving something in return, I do hope it reminds you of how much I love you, and how deeply sorry I am for hurting you. You are my sun, my moon, and my stars. You always have been, even before the day you agreed to give me your heart, and I regret any and every moment where I’ve ever made you feel like you’re less than that. 

Forever yours,

Astarion” 

Tears welled in the corners of Fallon’s eyes as she read Astarions love note, and Fallon folded the parchment again and brought it to her lips, marking the parchment with a gentle kiss before pressing it against her heart. There was something different about seeing how the vampire felt about her, written in ink. Hearing him say he loved her was nice, but writing it was so much more permanent. Writing it down puts it out in the world for anyone to find. Centuries from now, scholars could find this note in a pile of rubble, and even they would know how much Astarion loved her without having met either of them. Fallon set the note back on the table and stripped out of her clothes and settled into the bath they’d prepared for her before reaching for the note from Gale. Only, it wasn’t a note at all. It was a sonnet. 

“In realms of time where moments intertwine,

A love profound, transcendent and divine.

Our souls entwined, an ancient, sacred dance,

Across the ages, seeking sweet romance.

Through lifetimes woven, tapestries unfold,

In each existence, love's tale is retold.

A flame that flickers, undeterred by years,

Igniting hearts, dispelling all their fears.

With every breath, a whispered promise made,

In every life, our souls are not betrayed.

Through cycles endless, destinies align,

A love enduring, steadfast and benign.

In every heartbeat, echoes from the past,

Our souls entangled, destiny held fast.

Through lifetimes bound, in love, we shall remain,

Our souls converging, time and time again.”

Gale did not need to add any additional context by way of a note for Fallon to understand the poem’s meaning: He loved her, and he would always love her. Then, now, and in every lifetime to come. Though both men had made it very clear that they expected nothing in return for this incredibly romantic gesture they’d planned for Fallon, it did not change the fact that their words and actions made her fold like a house of cards. Fallon was as much under their spell as they were under hers, and she wanted nothing more than to run upstairs and kiss them both again and again until she could no longer breathe. 

Still, Fallon took her time. She enjoyed her relaxing bath as she read their love notes over and over again. She hummed along to the music playing from the phonograph as she got ready for dinner and slipped into her new dress. Tara told Fallon to “make them crawl,” and as she took in her own reflection in the mirror before exiting the room to go upstairs, it occurred to Fallon that they just might. There was truly only one word Fallon could use to describe it: 

Sinful. 

The glimmering black dress was form fitting. The off the shoulder, sweetheart neckline that left little to the imagination by way of covering her cleavage as it pressed her breasts together, and the mermaid skirt had slit so that cut so high on the right side that Fallon had to forego undergarments in order to make the dress work. The laces of the gold sandals she wore snaked all the way up her calves, wrapping them in delicate leaves of ivy as though she were a gift from nature herself. For once, her dark hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves, instead of piled back on the top of her head in its usual ponytail, shiny and soft from being freshly washed. 

The dress was probably more formal than the evening likely required, but it would be worth it to see the looks on Gale and Astarion’s faces when she entered the room. 

Fallon followed Tara’s instructions and took the stairs to the next floor, her mouth dropping open in awe as she realized the “path” the tressym told her to follow was also a path of black dahlia petals, like the ones in the bathroom, but there were more . Her path led her to the dining room, the smell of freshly cooked food wafting from within, and as she rounded the corner, Fallon stopped in her tracks. 

Astarion and Gale were sitting across from each other at the far end of the long table. Though it wasn’t the sight of the beautiful room or even the fact that they’d left the spot at the head of the table for her that made her stop. It was the two men waiting for her: both as well-dressed as she was, and Fallon’s heart rate doubled in her chest at how good they both looked. Well-dressed men were a weakness of Fallon’s, and when she added in the fact that it was Gale and Astarion dressed in their finest, it took all of her strength not to demand they skip dinner entirely and just take her on the table. 

Fallon was not the only person in the room that was awestruck. Upon her entrance, both Gale and Astarion stood and took her in, their eyes shamelessly roving over her body as they took in the dress she’d picked especially for them. 

While Gale looked at Fallon like he couldn’t believe she was real, whereas Astarion (with the way his eyes lingered on her exposed leg) looked at his lover like he too was considering skipping the meal laid out on the table before them in favor of another between Fallon’s legs. It was a smoldering look that sent a shot of arousal through Fallon‘s body, and she didn’t miss the smirk on Astarion’s face as he noticed the change in her scent from across the room. It officially didn’t matter how hard-to-get Fallon attempted to play this evening. Astarion already knew he and Gale had won. 

That didn’t mean Fallon couldn’t try to drag it out, though. 

Or try to. 

“I must say, when Astarion presented me with my attire for this evening, I was worried we’d be a mite overdressed. I see now that his guess that you would pick a dress as beautiful and decadent as the one this dress is apparently replacing, was entirely correct.” Gale complimented in awe. 

Astarion strode across the room to Fallon and took her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss the back of it softly. “You look incredible, darling,” He offered her his arm. “Will you allow me to escort you to your seat?”

Fallon nodded, grinning at her vampire as her sorcerer pulled out her chair for her. As she took her seat, Fallon observed the spread of food laid out before them. “Did the two of you cook all of this?” 

“Most of it–we, ah, may have had some help on the prep work from my mother. She did quite a bit earlier today before we arrived for the sake of time,” Gale admitted. “The dishes are a bit heavy, and very warm, so it might be easier to pass me your plate.”

While Fallon obviously knew by now that Gale and Astarion had gone to great lengths to make this evening happen, the fact that Gale even went as far as to ask Morena for help…they really were trying. Fallon offered Gale her plate. “A little bit of everything, please.” 

As Gale filled her plate, she turned her attention to Astarion. “You’re a good sport for sitting here while the two of us enjoy a meal that does nothing for you.” Not that she ever thought Astarion would skip out on an evening like this, but he was a good sport all the same. 

“It’s quite alright, darling, I’ll eat later,” He shot her a roguish wink that made her heart stutter in her chest. “How was your afternoon?” 

Fallon took her plate from Gale, thanking him before she picked up her fork and dug into the contents. From the look of it, Gale  had prepared the Quipper fish recipe he once mentioned to her, down to what Fallon could only assume was his mother’s hundur sauce recipe. “My afternoon was lovely, thanks to the two of you,” Fallon replied as she took a bite of food. She hummed with a soft noise of approval. “This is amazing, by the way, my compliments to the chef. You weren’t kidding about the sauce. It does indeed have a kick.” 

Gale beamed at her and finally began eating his own food, as though he was waiting to hear what Fallon thought before he even touched his own plate. “What did you think of the bookshop?” 

“It was great! Their selection was much bigger than I thought it would be, given the physical size of the shop. I’d hate to see their storeroom. Thank you for the books, I’m excited to read them. I’m excited to have time to read them. Astarion, I’ll share them with you if you promise not to hog them all.” Fallon teased, sticking her tongue out at the vampire. 

“Lucky for you, romance novels aren’t my cup of tea, so they’re all yours. Unless, of course, you feel like reading them aloud.” His tone was suggestive, and Fallon felt her face flush. 

“Maybe if you ask nicely.” Fallon proposed, and Astarion only smirked at her in return.

Conversation flowed easily between the three of them through the rest of the meal as Astarion and Gale recounted to Fallon how exactly they’d managed to pull the entire evening off in three days, without even being in the city. Though Gale and Astarion had done much of the planning, and all of the ideas were theirs, nearly all of the prep work was done by Morena and Tara. She was going to have to buy Mrs. Dekarios flowers, at the least, for all of her help in making this happen, though probably not black dahlias, because she got the sense that nearly every black dahlia in Waterdeep had contributed their petals to the paths she had followed to arrive at this table Tara, on the other hand, was a conundrum. What did someone buy for a tressym as a gift, she wondered? Catnip? Mice? Fallon would have to ask Gale. 

When there was a natural break in conversation after her third glass of champagne, Fallon decided it was time to bring up the subject at hand. She wasn’t drunk, not even close, but the champagne provided her with just the right amount of liquid courage she needed. 

“I suppose we should talk about everything, shouldn’t we?” She started, and the energy of the room immediately shifted. Not in a bad way, just becoming somewhat heavier, now that the time for small talk was over.

“Ladies first.” Astarion gestured to Fallon with a hopeful look in his eyes. It made sense that beyond being chivalrous, Astarion and Gale would want her to speak first, because they’ve been waiting for her verdict on the situation for almost four whole days at this point. 

“Obviously I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last couple of days, and the first thing that I want you both to know is that I’ve forgiven you, and that I was ready to forgive you well before I knew about your plans for this evening. Though I must thank you, again, for the lovely day and so far lovely evening you’ve given me. It feels very nice to know how loved I am,” She smiled warmly at Astarion and Gale, and she watched as relief visibly washed over their faces. “The second thing I’d like to discuss is what I told Astarion earlier this week. I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve thought about…this. Us. The three of us.  It’s still something I want, and would be interested in exploring. But there are…I hate using the term ‘conditions’ because that isn’t what they are, but I’m not really sure what other term to use. Stipulations, maybe.”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to make sense of it, dearest, and if we can’t, we’ll be sure to ask questions.” Gale promised her, and Astarion nodded. 

Fallon chewed on her lip as she pondered the best way to say what she needed to say, because even though she knew what she wanted and where her heart was, parts of what she needed to say weren’t going to be easy. “As far as the…dynamics? Of what the three of us in a polyamourous relationship would look like, I want to be able to spend time with the both of you, together and alone. I’d like to be able to be affectionate with you both, without anyone getting territorial or jealous. I also want the two of you to feel comfortable spending time together without me, to get to know each other in this new way better, without worrying about how it will make me feel. I am telling you that I am okay with it. In fact, if this is to work, I’m going to have to insist on it. Given the events that led to this conversation to begin with, I’m going to assume that is also something the two of you want?”

Fallon looked back and forth between Gale and Astarion, waiting for either of them to deny her assumptions. They only exchanged meaningful looks with each other before both looking at her and nodding silently. “Excellent, then we’re all on the same page in that regard. What I need to say next, I’m going to say to the both of you, because I don’t want there to be any secrets between the three of us. I want for us all to be in the loop, so we can confide in each other as we see fit,”

Fallon took a deep breath as she prepared herself to say the hard part of what she needed to say, and silently threw a prayer up to the gods that it wouldn’t ruin everything as she turned her attention to Gale. “I care for you, deeply, and I want to be with you again, and I would like for the three of us to experience things together, sexually. That being said, most of the things that will occur between you and I when Astarion is with us, will not extend to when we’re alone. Not right now,” 

She paused as she searched Gale’s face for any signs of disappointment or anger or regret, but instead she was met with a look of sad understanding. Fallon’s heart rate picked up, and she averted her gaze from Gale’s to stare at her plate instead. “Caring for you like I did before, trusting you with the final piece of my heart that allows me to feel safe being physically intimate with you, just the two of us…it fucking terrifies me, Gale, and I’m– I’m just not there yet. I’m not saying I won’t ever be, because I think I will eventually. Just not yet,” She could feel her throat constrict and tears welled in her eyes as her body and mind prepared to be emotionally naked in front of Gale, and to be rejected for it. After all, if she expected the worst, it would probably hurt less. 

“If knowing there are limitations, that our physical relationship will be different than mine and Astarion’s, or the one I imagine you will grow to have with Astarion, is a deal-breaker for you–” The words were barely out of Fallon’s mouth before the tears in her eyes slid down her cheeks and onto her empty plate, and she heard the sound of a chair scraping against the hardwood floor, and the man who’d been sitting in it was dropping to his knees at Fallon’s side. 

Gale reached forward and gently took Fallon’s chin in his hand with his fingers and turned her head so she was looking at him. He looked devastated. “Hearing that you think these boundaries would cause me to not want to be with you at all breaks my heart, because I know it is from how little  you still think of yourself, and I know that a lot, if not all, of the blame for you still feeling this way could, and perhaps rightly should, be placed on me and how I mistreated you,” Another tear slid down Fallon’s cheek, and Gale gently wiped it away with his thumb. “Please hear me– I am literally on my knees begging you to hear me, Fallon– when I tell you that could tell me that you never wished to have sex with me again and it would not change the fact that I want to be with you, in any way you decide to grace me with. I truly mean it. That I am being granted even a fraction of your heart and body, after everything we’ve been through, that I have put you through, is not a gift I take for granted, or fail to cherish. Do you understand me?” 

Fallon stared at Gale in silence for a moment as she searched his eyes for any deceit or ulterior motives, but there was none to be found. Fallon took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay,” She exhaled and cupped Gale’s face in her hands. “Okay.” 

Gale breathed a sigh of relief and turned his face inward in her hands, closed his eyes and kissed the palm of her hand tenderly. When he looked at Fallon again, he took her hands in his, tenderly kissing her knuckles as he moved to get off the floor. The whole time she spoke to Gale, Fallon had not forgotten that Astarion was still in the room, and the way he handled the moment that just occurred made Fallon love him even more. Staying silent while Gale and Fallon talked was the most supportive thing Astarion could have done in that moment, and that he already knew that fact was what made Fallon certain this arrangement was going to work. 

Fallon rewarded Astarion’s patience by rising from her chair and taking the three required steps to enter his space and before she could say anything, Astarion was already on his feet and closing the gap between them, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “I’m so sorry, my love, I’m so sorry.” He apologized into her hair as he kissed her temple. Fallon shook her head. “You already know you’re forgiven.” She muttered against his neck, shaking her head. Fallon pulled back just far enough to look up at Astarion, only waiting a brief moment before capturing his lips with hers and kissing him deeply. Gods, she’d missed this. She’d missed him . She needed him. Hells, she needed them both. Fallon released herself from their kiss, but not Astarion’s arms as she extended one arm outward to Gale beckoning him over to join their hug wordlessly. 

Gale did not hesitate, and Astarion took it upon himself to open his arms to let the sorcerer in, wrapping his arms around both Gale and Fallon as the three of them held each other. “This is going to work.” Fallon smiled as she angled her head to look at both Astarion and Gale, and the two of them nodded, smiling back at her as the tension dissolved from the room. Astarion let go of Fallon and Gale, taking a few steps back, interlacing his fingers with Fallon’s. When he opened his mouth, a new kind of tension sizzled in the air as he looked between Fallon and Gale: the kind left arousal pooling between Fallon’s thighs. “I know you said all was forgiven, darling, but we’re not quite done atoning. There is…one more thing that we had planned, just in case everything else went smoothly.” Astarion’s eyes had gone dark with desire as they scanned her body once more, undressing her with his eyes. 

Gale took her other hand, and he and Astarion began walking backwards out of the dining room as they guided Fallon through the tower. “While I can assure you that we didn’t expect anything, you can’t blame us for hoping. I mean…look at you. We’d be fools not to hope.” A charming grin spread on his face, and it was one Fallon had seen many times just before Gale seduced her within an inch of her life. When they stopped outside of another closed door, Fallon’s heart did a backflip as she imagined what was on the other side. She looked from Gale to Astarion, the expressions on their faces mirrored each other. They were going to absolutely ruin her, and Fallon decided right then and there that if this was how she died, then it would be a hell of a way to go. A devilish grin of her own bloomed on Fallon’s face. 

“Lead on, gentlemen.” She crooned, nodding her head towards the door, and it took all of her strength to not look too overeager at the thought of what awaited her on the other side.  

Chapter List

[chaos-is-neutral]

Baldur’s Gate 3 spoilers

I hate all of Karlach’s endings, so I am going to be delulu about it. But I hc that after she goes back hell with Wyll my Tav and Halsin is beyond heartbroken. All three of them had gotten so close and had bonded over people controlling their bodies. Karlach through her engine heart, my bard through the scars on their face, and Halsin through his time as a captive. It was something that brought them all closer as a couple.

They had been through so much together and were each others rock. Halsin does his best to help Tav, but it’s becoming more difficult. The lost of Karlach was hitting them the hardest. And it was understandable. Karlach and them had been together longer before they let Halsin in. There no denying there is a Karlach size hole missing in their relationship.

One day Halsin is visiting some dwarves he knows and learns a way to fix Karlach’s heart and also bring their friend Wyll back. So they plan a mission and get everyone back together to get them. It is long and dangerous, but when they see Karlach for the first time Tav and Halsin are in tears as they hold their woman.

They bring her and Wyll back to their world and get her heart fixed. Afterward Karlach is recovered Halsin creates a new grove for druids and it is also a sanctuary to those in need. Karlach spends time with all the children of the grove, teaching them all sorts of things. My Tav writes music and does art. Mostly they stay to themselves. Being around people can overwhelm them a lot especially after all they went through. You can either find them hanging with Karlach helping the children or helping Halsin with something behind the scenes. Halsin relies heavily on his partners help at the grove along with his counsel. When new people arrive to the grove they are met by them three. It’s clear to anyone how in love they are.

Once the grove gets going Halsin proposes the idea of them marrying. It takes Tav a little to come around because they still have issues with thinking people will leave them. Finally though they come around and say yes. When the three of them married it was a glorious celebration. The three never looked so happy and soooooo in love. Everyone in the grove was crying and cheering for them. They wear a small gold band on their ring fingers. Karlach though is a clutz and eventually wears hers on a necklace to keep from losing it.

Life is so good for them. Karlach lives life truly to the fullest and will take Tav on small adventures. Halsin always has a warm bath with healing herbs ready for them when they return. He worries about his loves but knows they are safe. Tav will still have their panic attacks from time to time. It is just something time cannot heal. They both hold them tight and sometimes Halsin will even turn into a cat and lay on their chest. They created a small alter for Gale to honor him. It helped ease the guilt Tav had that was leading to the panic attacks.

And in a few years after a lot of convincing Halsin and puppy dog eyes (what really got him though was seeing Karlach having two children on her shoulders walking around while Tav looked at them so lovingly), they celebrate the birth of their first child. Karlach holds the baby and cries saying how amazing Tav is for giving them their child and how beautiful their baby is. Tav tries to calm Karlach by kissing her cheeks and rubbing her back all the while Halsin looks at his family with so much love and adoration. As he’s handed the baby he smiles down and thinks how good of a life this is.

[littlemourningstarr]

Angelic Reprieve

By sheer accident, Sekh'met discovers that Astarion's scars are Infernal. And while the news answers one question, it brings up an endless array of uglier unknowns. For just a night, Sekh wants Astarion to be able to not think about them, or to be reminded of Cazador. And what better way to forget than to sleep?

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x transmasc Tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Transmasc tav, fluff, comfort, coitus interruptus

Sekh took a slow, deep breath, smiling to himself as the air filled his lungs. The spores gave a sweet, Earthy scent he had missed, while topside.

It felt good to be back in the Underdark.

Around him, the Myconid colony buzzed, with their own languid actions and the now addition of he and his party. Gale had been quite curious about the beings, and seemed intent on exploring every bit of their colony. Sekh was just pleased to have a safe place to rest, before they set out tomorrow. Not everyone had seemed to agree with his decision to take up the Myconid’s request regarding the Duegar, but Sekh had convinced them, in the end.

He turned, boots sinking slightly into the packed, warm soil the Myconids so loved. He was at the edge of their colony, simply looking beyond. The lights, the colors- it was all so beautiful. He had missed it terribly.

He’d been topside for the past year- no, nearly two, since his last visit. And as much as the Underdark was his home, there weren’t places that he felt a connection to anymore that would keep him for long. It always hurt.

He could hear Syl’s voices, echoing in his mind, don’t fret sweetling, you’re home, and he smiled again. He shouldn’t waste the time they had here- he knew it would be brief.

He hiked back into the colony, giving a nod to the Hobgoblin he had met earlier. He wanted more time to discuss this Society of Brilliance with Blurg, as he was utterly fascinated that there was an organization out there that wanted to see his home thrive, away from the stereotypical violence everyone believed it was soaked in- but he simply hadn’t had time. Perhaps if they did pay this Lenore a visit for the fauna requested by the Mindflayer, he’d get a better chance.

Oh, that Mindflayer had nearly sent Lae’zel reeling. Shadowheart and Wyll had been forced to physically hold her back, until she finally agreed to set aside her- not unfounded- hate of the beings to hear him out. Sekh was glad. He didn’t love the idea of working with the same things that had abducted them and put the damn tadpoles in their heads- but Omeluum was different, at least. Or, he seemed it.

He made his way into where camp had been set up, dodging a sudden flying piece of armor as Karlach was tearing through her things, looking for something. It clattered close to his feet, and he heard a shouted sorry!

He chuckled, shook his head, and just carried on. He had planned to pause at his own tent, look over the small but ever growing list of things he always needed from the Underdark, when he spotted Gale bustling about, a stack of books in his arm.

Sekh pivoted, rushing over as the books began to slip. He one before it hit the ground, as Gale righted the rest. “Superb timing!” Gale said, grinning at him. “I could use another set of hands.” Before Sekh could say anything, the wizard plopped the entire stack of books into his arms, hurrying off towards a stack near the entry to his tent.

“Gale,” Sekh said, attempting to tuck the stack under his chin for additional stability. “What are you- gods below!” Sekh nearly dropped the books as Gale tossed one behind him, having to dodge as it skipped to the ground a foot behind him.

“I know I have something around here somewhere,” Gale mused to himself, pausing to survey the books around him. Sekh huffed in fond annoyance, stooping to set down the stack of books in his arms and gather up the one Gale had tossed, adding it to the pile.

It took some prodigy, but Sekh managed to get Gale to focus on him long enough to state he was looking for his books on the Underdark. He claimed he didn’t have many with him, and woe that he didn’t have his library in his tower at Waterdeep at his current disposal- but he knew he had some.

“They’re just fascinating,” Gale said, referring to the Myconid. He flipped open a book, before furrowing his brow and setting it aside. “I mean, their telepathic communication is amazing. It’s just like our tadpoles without the lovely little wrigglers themselves.”

Sekh settled on his knees next to Gale, taking the book the wizard had set aside and moving it further away, lest Gale forget he had already rejected it. Gale settled down on the ground himself, groaning slightly in the process. “I’ve always found them fascinating,” Sekh admitted, “never got to mingle with them much in my youth, though.” Gale passed him another book, which Sekh set aside as well.

Gale after a few minutes of continued page flipping and scowling, Gale admitted he was hunting for a book he claimed he had on the Underdark. Sekh quietly wondered if he really had it with him, or if it was at his tower- but he kept that to himself. It was supposed to be a general field guide on the fauna and their many uses, but Sekh knew Gale had been intrigued at the mention of a Sussar tree nearby. Claimed he needed to refresh his memory a bit, but that he’d love to see it, as alarming and disarming it would be for a wizard.

Sekh wouldn’t mind seeing it either. They were beautiful, even if they would leave him feeling empty.

Gale blindly handed another book to Sekh, this one open, and Sekh took it, almost clamped it shut without looking. He glanced down at the last second and paused, the script on the page looking familiar. Jagged but almost elegant.

Astarion’s scars.

Sekh made a wordless noise, leaning over and shoving the book into Gale’s face. “Gale, what language is this?”

Gale leaned back, looking alarmed at the sudden intrusion. He stared at it for a moment, before saying, “Infernal. I would’ve expected a warlock to recognize- oh right, of course. Your patron is fey- Sekh!”

Sekh was up already, holding the book open in one hand awkwardly. “I’m borrowing this!” he said as he ran, heading across camp, for Astarion’s tent. He found the vampire emerging from his tent, having just stripped off his armor. Astarion paused when Sekh skidded to a stop, boots digging roughly into the soil. He quirked a brow, and Sekh sucked in a breath, trying to steady his heart.

“Darling, we haven’t been apart that long,” Astarion teased, but his playful smile fell away at the serious look in Sekh’s eyes. Softly, he added, “Sekh?”

“Infernal,” Sekh said, holding out the book. Astarion took it, glancing down at the page. “Your scars. They’re written in Infernal.”

Astarion stared down at the page in silence for a moment, before muttering, “Bloody bastard.” He slammed it shut, tossed the book on the ground. Sekh lifted his hand, went to reach out for Astarion, and the elf spat a sharp “don’t.”

Sekh pulled his hand back, an apology on his lips, when Astarion’s shoulders sagged.

“That was uncalled for,” the vampire admitted, “apologies. I…it’s just…” he paused, cleared his throat, “it’s never good when devils are involved.”

Sekh couldn’t argue- their own devil, Raphael, was alarming enough with his interest. And having Wyll entangled with Mizora was nightmarish- and now a third infernal influence?

“Did Cazador ever use infernal?” Sekh asked, stooping down to pick up the book. Astarion shook his head.

“The bastard was only figuratively hellish. There were never any devils hanging about the crypt.” He paused, added, “I never saw him write in infernal, let alone speak it. I might have missed it… but I doubt it. He kept me quite… close. I was one of his first.”

Sekh nodded, not having stood up from where he knelt to get the book. “We could ask someone to read it for you- Karlach, maybe?”

Astarion hummed, folded his arms, didn’t look pleased with the idea. “I’d rather not bring everyone into this little problem. It’s not even your problem, you know.”

“Your problems are my problems.” Sekh didn’t hesitate to say it, and even when Astarion’s pretty eyes went a little wide, Sekh didn’t take it back. It was true- Astarion wasn’t going to face this alone, not while Sekh was there.

That was what it meant to care about someone- and Sekh had already made that admission.

“Do you want to see it?” Sekh asked then. Before Astarion could argue that a mirror wouldn’t word, the drow added, “I could draw it. Or try to. I don’t know a lick of Infernal myself.” Astarion stared at Sekh for a moment, contemplating- before he gave a single nod. He pulled his shirt off, holding it in his hands and turning, offering Sekh his back.

Sekh began digging into the dirt, attempting to recreate the symbols. He truly didn’t know any Infernal, and he was sure he was off on some of the proportions, but after a few minutes, he had something at least resembling the scars on Astarion’s back. He said the vampire’s name, and Astarion turned, staring down at the dirt.

“Two centuries carrying this, and I can finally see it…” He trailed off, just staring. Sekh watched, could see the lines deepening in his face, his eyes seeming to go distant.

“We’ll figure this out,” Sekh promised, “somehow. But we will.”

Astarion glanced at him, eyes focusing, coming back into himself. “Will we?” he asked, so softly Sekh could barely hear it. He sighed, but then gave Sekh the smallest, pained smile. “How sweet.”

-

Sekh was finger combing his hair later that night, making his way back into the Myconid camp. It was peaceful, the warm buzz he found in the air around them. Most of them seemed to be drifting in a calm stasis.

Sekh hoped he wasn’t intruding, as he glanced towards the small area that seemed to belong to the Hobgoblin, Blurg, he had met earlier. He imagined the man might be sleeping.

As it was, he was there, still in his Society of Brilliance robes, except now sitting on the ground, looking more relaxed as he hummed to himself, studying a book in his large hands intently. He glanced up after Sekh had watched him for only a moment, and offered a rather warm smile.

“Well hello again,” he said, deep voice much quieter now that the world seemed to be sleeping around them. Sekh smiled, walked over and sat down on the ground next to him. “I wasn’t expecting another visit considering the hour.”

“Sorry,” Sekh offered, “I came out here looking for the dwarf trader, but she seems to have turned in unfortunately.” Sekh pulled his knees up, settled his arms on them. “I hope I haven’t disturbed you.”

“Not at all! Perhaps you can assist me- I’m trying to map out as many cities as I can where perhaps we could spread the society’s word. Would you be able to point out your home city?”

Sekh bit his lip, glanced away from Blurg and back out to the Myconids. So peaceful. “It’s gone,” he finally said, “the town was burned to the ground over fifty years ago.” After a long pause, Sekh added, “Honestly, I don’t think I remember how to find it anymore.”

Blurg nodded, once, his face somber now. He closed his book and reached out, placed a large hand on Sekh’s shoulder, gave it a squeeze. He was very warm.

He said nothing. Sekh was fine with that. What words were there to be shared, between Underdark dwellers? Sekh’s past wasn’t different from many. Sympathy wasn’t needed.

Still, the touch has been nice, kind. When Blurg’s hand left his shoulder, Sekh took a slow breath. “I’d like to know more,” he said, “about your work. About the Society. The Underdark… it’s so beautiful. It’s my home. And I hate how tainted it always feels.”

Sekh wasn’t sure if he wanted to return, permanently, when this tadpole business was finally over. He hadn’t had a home since his childhood home was destroyed, he’d wondered for years, never staying anywhere long. But having a place in the Underdark that he could return to, could feel safe in-

It was a pleasing thought.

“Perhaps when your current cranial issue is resolved, we can have a proper conversation.” Blurg reached up, tapped his own forehead in emphasis. “The Society always needs new minds, fresh perspectives. We could use some…” Blurg paused, cleared his throat, “action.”

Sekh nodded. He’d gathered that while the Society of Brilliance boasted fantastical ideas and minds, they seemed to lack the action to drive their dreams into reality.

“We have a Lodge, in Baldur’s Gate,” Blurg added. “Perhaps your travels will take you there.” He stood up slowly, and Sekh followed, dusting himself off. “Now, what did you need from our good neighbor Derryth?”

“I was hoping she had a certain… potion.” Sekh thought back to Astarion’s face, upon seeing the scars on his back sketched out in the dirt. The ache, the agony, the realization that there was far more to Cazador’s cruel act than he originally thought.

Sekh just wanted him to rest, to get away from the reality, for a moment. A night.

“Angelic Reprieve,” Sekh added. “My… companion could do with actual sleep, I believe.”

Blurg nodded. He set his book on his table and held up his hand, signaling Sekh to wait. The drow watched him disappear into some veins and fauna, to what must have been a more secluded, private area.

He wasn’t even sure Astarion would be open to the idea, but he wanted to offer. The vampire had sulked off to find some beastie to quench his appetite, left Sekh wracking his brain as to how to console him, what to give him that might help ease the agony he knew he had to be feeling. It felt like getting a single answer to those scars had only opened up a hundred more painful questions.

He had never asked Astarion what he saw, during his trances. But considering the man seemed to remember so little of his life before his death, Sekh assumed the bits of his life that replayed nightly behind his eyelids weren’t pleasant.

Maybe dreams could offer something soothing, even if they were fantasy only. Maybe they would offer nothing at all, just a moment of Astarion’s mind to fully silence.

Sekh came back to himself when Blurg appeared, holding a nondescript bottle. He offered it to Sekh, who furrowed his brow. “I may not bottle it as artistically as they do in the cities, but I promise, it’s just as strong.”

Sekh took it, realizing there was enough here for Astarion to sleep for days- nights. “How much gold do you want for it?” Sekh asked, ready to empty everything he had.

But Blurg just held up his hand. “Omeluum is quite good at concocting those, and I think he’s taken a liking to you. He would be quite perturbed if I asked for anything in return.”

Sekh held the bottle tighter, before he walked quickly to Blurg, reaching out and enveloping him in a tight hug. The hobgoblin stood shocked for a moment, before he returned the embrace, large hands seeming to envelope all of Sekh’s back.

“Thank you,” Sekh whispered, pulling back. “I owe you. And I pay my debts.”

“Anything for a neighbor of the Underdark. Now,” Blurg stepped back, gesturing for Sekh to go, “I imagine your companion will be quite eager for some rest. Best go find him.”

Sekh nodded, glanced down at the bottle again. Smiling to himself, he turned, hurrying back to camp, hoping Astarion wouldn’t be long behind him.

-

“Sleep?” Astarion asked, once he had returned to camp. He had found Sekh sitting outside his tent, waiting for him. And while he had hoped to see the drow before the man slipped into his trance for the night, he hadn’t expected him to be waiting.

It was… nice, if Astarion was honest with himself. Almost like coming home.

Sekh nodded. He had stood up, was holding a boring looking bottle in his hands. “I thought, considering everything…” he paused, took a deep breath, and then in a nervous rush, “I thought you might just want to get some rest. I can’t imagine your trance lets you relive anything pleasant. And maybe it’d be nice to… well… just turn everything off.” He sighed, shook his head. “Gods I sound like a damned fool.”

He sounded nervous, but a fool? Astarion had to disagree there. “I haven’t slept in two centuries,” Astarion admitted, reaching out, running his fingers along the bottle. The thought of simply nothing for a few hours, while nice, was quite intimidating. “Cazador would have never bothered with this.”

“Well, Cazador is less pleasing than a Lich’s withered ballsack.”

Astarion stared at Sekh for a single moment, before he burst out laughing. The laughter was so strong it hurt his gut, his lungs, made his cheeks ache from smiling. Sekh laughed with him, and Astarion leaned forward, still chuckling as he cupped Sekh’s cheek, pecked the corner of his mouth. “Very classy,” he whispered, enjoying that the little bit of affection had left the drow blushing.

Gods he loved when color flooded Sekh’s cheeks.

“I’m not wrong,” Sekh pointed out, as Astarion’s other hand left the bottle, found his waist. And no, he wasn’t. It was just… nice to hear someone else hate his old master and yet not have once been under his complete control. Nice to have someone outside the situation validate Astarion’s hate.

The colorful word choice? A bonus.

“You’re sweet for this,” Astarion added, in sheer honesty. The words weren’t honeyed, weren’t false. Even if he had wanted to, Astarion didn’t think he could make use of the charm he had perfected over the last near two hundred years on the drow, not when he had done something selfless, just for him.

Astarion was finding it increasingly harder by the day, the hour, the minute to be anything but himself around Sekh.

“One condition,” Astarion said, finally releasing the drow and taking the bottle from his hands. “I…” he paused, cleared his throat, and then whispered, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

Because while nothingness, oblivion did sound quite nice, Astarion didn’t think he could do it alone.

In short time they found themselves inside Sekh’s tent, closed off to the world. Astarion had wanted to be completely surrounded by the drow, to drown in his scent until there was nothing but him, in his mind.

Anything to chase away the possibility that his dreams could be nightmares.

They’d both taken a mouthful of the potion, which seemed like enough. Astarion had the faintest memory of them being sold in small, elaborate bottles in the city- and they couldn’t have held much more than that. As it was, he was feeling… calm, already. Relaxation seeping into his muscles.

He was sitting on Sekh’s bed roll, his shirt discarded already, watching as Sekh unlaced his pants. “I could do that much faster,” Astarion teased, even if he was enjoying the show. Even if, while the promise of any sort of release with Sekh was divine, he didn’t think he wanted that, in that moment.

He didn’t think he wanted sex.

Sekh rolled his eyes, turning away and shimming out of his pants. Astarion didn’t hide the way he looked at the drow’s ass.

“I can feel you staring.” Astarion hummed, leaned back on the bedroll, didn’t deny it. There was no point. Sekh turned around then, pushed his shirt up over his belly slightly, before he paused. “How much skin is too much?”

Astarion opened his mouth to tease that there was no such thing as too much skin darling, but it died on his tongue. Felt insincere, wasn’t what he meant in that moment.

He licked his lips, thought it over for a moment. The idea of nothing against him but Sekh’s warm skin, the blanket keeping his heat in, warming Astarion as if he was living was divine in countless ways. 

When he didn’t answer, Sekh walked over, knelt down next to him. His fingers found Astarion’s hair, gently stroked. Astarion’s eyelids fluttered. “Astarion?”

Astarion licked his lips. “I want all of you.”

Well, it was an answer. Although Astarion realized all too quickly it wasn’t exactly what Sekh had asked- and, gods below, he was answering a question that had never been asked.

But he did want all of him.

“Okay,” Sekh said with a smile, before he sat back, pulled his shirt off, left it tossed away. He paused, reaching up to cover his mouth with the back of his hand as he yawned, and Astarion he was looking away, covering his own, echoing the gesture.

He was tired. But it wasn’t unpleasant.

Sekh flopped down next to him, squirmed until his underwear were discarded, and then grabbed his blanket, pulling it up. “Hurry before I fall asleep,” he teased, and Astarion pushed himself up, finished undressing without another word. He crawled back under the blanket, and Sekh quickly got his arms around him, pulling him against his throat.

Astarion didn’t fight it. Their legs tangled together as he nuzzled into the warm skin, felt Sekh’s body heat seeping into him. He heard the drow yawn again, and placed a soft, lingering kiss to his throat. Beneath the blanket, Sekh’s hand found his back, fingers slowly tracing along his scars.

Astarion shivered, but when Sekh went to pull away whispered don’t. He settled a bit lower, rested his head on the drow’s bare chest, as the man began tracing softly again. Against his ear, Astarion could hear the rhythm of Sekh’s heart, a constant, calming thump against his ear that made his muscles feel loose.

“How long until we’re sleeping?” Astarion asked, truly unsure himself. Sekh shrugged subtly, and Astarion let his eyes fall shut. And then, in a fit of honesty, he whispered, “talk to me.”

He couldn’t see Sekh smile, but he knew he was. He couldn’t explain that. “About what?”

“Anything, my sweet.” Astarion hooked an arm over him, dragged his mouth in what might have once been a kiss along Sekh’s skin. “I just want to hear your voice.”

The potion was supposed to make him sleep, not be brutally honest.

Sekh hummed, and Astarion could tell from his heartbeat he was feeling the potion just as much. It seemed to slow, just a tick. For a moment, Astarion thought the drow wasn’t going to speak, and maybe he had already drifted completely, but then-

“I have my father’s hair.”

Astarion opened his eyes, thought to raise his head, but found he didn’t think he could. He was so tired. Sekh’s fingers kept tracing his back, making his scars warm.

They had never been warm.

“Mom’s eyes,” Sekh added, “but dad had hair, according to my mom, like muted fire.” He giggled. “I always pretended to hate when she’d fawn over him.” His hand moved between Astarion’s shoulder blades, teased the curls at the nape of his neck. “He’d dye it, this pink or purple or magenta- it all depended on how the dye turned out when he brewed it. Said it went over better with the classy customers.”

Astarion stiffened, slightly. “Sekh-”

“Sex is work,” Sekh offered then, hand moving back to Astarion’s scars. “Dad did it, that’s what was expected. He didn’t care.” Astarion lifted his head then, even though it felt so heavy, could see Sekh staring up in the dark, above them. “You don’t want to hear that though… I’m sorry.” He paused, his eyes falling shut for a moment, two, before they opened slowly. “I’m rambling…”

But Astarion found he did want to hear it. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything about this man, who his parents had been, what he’d dreamed of as a child, what he’s hoped for.

What he wanted, now.

He folded his arm over Sekh’s chest, pillowed his head there, found he was fighting now to stay awake. “I asked you to talk,” he reminded him, “what else did he do?”

“Alchemy. Potions and potions and just… so many things.” Sekh smiled. “I didn’t know what most of them were, but I loved when he’d send me out to go find him things. He said I was the best at finding whatever he needed, even the hardest weeds out there.”

Astarion recalled, then, that when Sekh had opened his mind before, he’d had a basket, when he found Syl.

“That’s what you were doing, when you found your patron.” Sekh nodded, and Astrion pushed himself up, leaned over the drow. Sekh’s eyes flicked to his, and Astarion bowed his head, kissed him softly, sweetly-

Lovingly.

“I hope I remember this in the morning,” Astarion whispered, though it felt like his voice was outside his body, echoing around him. Sekh smiled, before he was guiding Astarion back down to his chest. The vampire had no arguments in pillowing his head against Sekh’s calming heartbeat again.

Sekh chuckled, and it reverberated through Astarion. “I hope you don’t. I sound like a fool.” Those fingers paused, back on Astarion’s scars, radiating the softest of fires. “Astarion?” The elf hummed his response, realizing his eyes had fallen shut. He didn’t think he could open them. “Sweet dreams.”

-

There was nothing at all, and then there was simply warmth. Astarion sighed, becoming aware of his body, the blanket tossed over him. He shifted, an arm around his waist tightening. For the briefest of moments, he didn’t know where he was, if he even was, but it was comforting.

And then he remembered Sekh’s heartbeat, and realized the smooth, warm skin pressed to his back, his scars, was Sekh. Slowly he tried to open his eyes, blinking a few times. The tent looked no different from when he had fallen asleep- the lack of sun in the Underdark did have its upsides for a vampire-

Undersides? Because, well-

He almost laughed at himself.

Sekh shifted against him, and Astarion reached down under the blanket, found the drow’s hand splayed against his belly. He traced the delicate bones of his hand, still feeling drowsy. It was strange to come back to consciousness and not be fully aware, fully present.

It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling.

Sekh mumbled something, and Astarion felt his mouth, at the back of his neck. The drow’s legs tangled further with his, and Astarion wasn’t exactly sure where he even ended and Sekh began.

“Darling?” Astarion whispered, his voice a bit hoarse. Gods, it was like he had died, yet pleasantly so.

Astarion felt Sekh’s mouth on his shoulder now, lazy kisses that had his belly in knots. He sighed, didn’t feel like he could stop himself, leaning back into the man’s heat. Sekh’s fingers flexed against his belly, and then the drow was leaning into him, pecking the side of his neck.

“G’morning,” he mumbled, sounding just as drowsy as Astarion, “starshine.”

Astarion felt his heart lurch forward, swore his ribs crumbled. He stiffened, his breath caught in his throat. Sekh seemed unaware of how he had suddenly caused a fissure in Astarion’s mind, and hugged him tightly from where he lay. Gods above, he was so warm-

Astarion twisted in his hold, managed to untangle enough to roll to his other side. He found Sekh’s mismatched eyes watching him, hazy with sleep, under thick lashes, heavy lids. His hair was in disarray, completely free-

And he was beautiful.

Astarion reached up, slid his fingers along his cheek, into his hair, Sekh sighed, tipped his head slightly, and it was too perfect. This moment, this man- it shouldn’t have been. Astarion couldn’t have things, like this.

Sekh tried to squirm closer, seeming to miss the skin to skin contact of when he was pressed to Astarion’s back. The vampire couldn’t find it in him to push away, and Sekh tangled their legs together again, nestling into Astarion’s neck, kissing lazily at his throat. The new position had Astarion realizing, very quickly, that he’d woken up hard.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d risen from his trance aroused. Gods, not since perhaps those first few years, when his marks at least gave him a few lucious memories. But those faded to nothing-

He canted his hips slightly, and Sekh chuckled. He hooked a leg up over Astarion’s hips, and Astarion realized it was an invitation.

He could just… have him.

Because he wanted to.

And while perhaps the previous night he hadn’t wanted sex- Astarion realized he did, now. Or at least, he wanted something. The release, sure, the pleasure- but more so, he just wanted to be as close as he could to this man. Wanted to live inside his very bones.

He reached down, wrapped a hand around himself, teased his cockhead along Sekh’s cunt. The drow shivered, dropped his head down to Astarion’s chest. He mumbled Astarion’s name, and the vampire eased into his welcoming body, slowly, agonizingly so.

Astarion groaned, hand moving to cup Sekh’s ass, knead the supple flesh. The drow rolled his hips, mouth dragging along Astarion’s chest, a broken curse falling from his lips.

When Sekh lifted his head, tipped it back just enough to see Astarion, the elf was there, kissing him. His lips were so pliant, silken, that Astarion was lost. His body felt like he was floating, encased in the sun itself, the heat from Sekh’s skin still trapped under the blanket, making him feel alive.

And he realized, as he lazily, almost rhythmlessly thrust into Sekh, that he did feel alive, for the first time in countless years.

Sekh was making little noises, one hand finding Astarion’s back, tracing his scars again. Astarion gasped over the touch, as Sekh dragged his mouth along his jaw. Under the drow’s breath, Astarion heard him say again, starshine, and he squeezed his eyes shut, felt the corners burning.

He wanted to sob. He wanted to scream. He wanted to kiss this man until he found death for a second time.

He wasn’t even sure he was chasing any sort of finale, any sort of release. He just wanted to touch Sekh with every fiber of his being.

Carefully, Sekh rolled them over, so he was on his back, his leg still firmly hooked around Astarion. He tipped his head back beneath him, looked so glorious, and Astarion bowed his head, gasped as he felt tendrils of a static like heat creeping along his back, spilling into his belly. Sekh’s hair had fanned out around him, those shadows along his face moving lazily, as if they had slept with him.

Astarion found his mouth, kissed him again. The vampire’s hair was falling against his forehead, curls fluffy and free of their hold, and Sekh’s free hand was in them, teasing, toying, playing with them and making Astarion tremble. He slowed his already tame thrusts, reveling in Sekh’s fingers in his hair, along his scars instead.

He wanted to die here, stay suspended in this moment for the rest of eternity.

He very well might have, if a voice hadn’t cut through into Sekh’s tent.

“Please don’t make me drag the two of you out here.” It was Gale, and he sounded less than thrilled.

Sekh opened his eyes, glancing at the still tied flap of his tent. He cleared his throat, and managed in a rather husky voice, “I’m awake.”

Astarion shivered, felt his cock throb over it. Gods below.

Gale mumbled something about not wanting to know what was taking so long, but Astarion could hear him walking away. Carefully he pushed off the drow, pulling out of him and settling on his knees, as Sekh sat up slowly. Sekh pushed his hair back, before he flashed a smile at Astarion.

“Guess that potion really worked.” Astarion nodded, just once. “Sorry about Gale’s… timing.”

Astarion ran his tongue along his teeth, over the points of his fangs. And while he did want to damn the wizard for shattering the sleepy bliss that he had wrapped himself in, he knew it couldn’t last forever.

Sekh bit his lip, looked all too enticing then. Yet Astarion didn’t want to throw him down, to ravish him until he screamed his throat raw.

He just wanted to stare.

“Should we…” Sekh cleared his throat, said a little softer, “finish?”

Considering the side of him Astarion had seen on other nights, he didn’t need to be coy.

“I don’t know that I want to,” Astarion admitted, before he pinched his mouth shut. He didn’t think he could fall back into that dreamlike state now. And a part of him didn’t want to tarnish how perfect it had been.

But gods he couldn’t just say that, what if Sekh thought he wasn’t enjoying it? What if he thought Astarion wasn’t interested? What if he wanted to-

“Alright.” Sekh leaned forward, kissed Astarion’s cheek softly. Before Astarion could say anything, Sekh stood up, offering a hand. “Maybe we can pick up later, after we’ve gotten our blood pumping a little.”

That sounded… nice, actually, if Astarion was honest. Let this moment die, let it rest, and after whatever trouble they found themselves in today- well, they could ride that high out together.

Astarion took Sekh’s hand, let the drow help him up. Sekh moved to begin dressing then, and Astarion followed, letting the silence lapse.

“Did you dream?” Sekh finally asked, as he was lacing his pants. His shirt was thrown over his shoulder, but he didn’t seem interested in actually putting it on.

Astarion shook his head, and Sekh smiled more. 

“Good.” Astarion pulled his own shirt on, and Sekh bent down, untying the tent. “I’ll be outside when you’re ready.” Astarion watched him depart, left him to finish dressing alone. He pulled his shirt on, realizing that it faintly smelled like Sekh, from being buried with his own clothing, overnight.

It made his heart skip like a lovesick child.

He sighed, let himself out of the tent, intending to make a quick line for his own to fix his hair. The utter disarray it was in felt shameful, curls brushing his forehead, tangling around his ears. Halfway to his tent he noticed Sekh was standing with Shadowheart and Lae’zel, discussing something quietly. He still hadn’t put his shirt on, but he was reaching back, knotting his hair at the base of his neck, stretching slightly so his scars were on prominent display.

It made Astarion smile, slightly. He turned away, lest he get distracted, trying to tell himself this was all nothing.

That his plan wasn’t crumbling piece by piece around him. His nice, simple plan.

That he absolutely wasn’t falling for the drow.

[mrcrowblargs]

The final battle... to confront the Netherbrain. Even though I had gotten more used to switching up the party during Act 3, I wanted to have my favourites along, though I ended up choosing Lae'zel over Karlach because one Lae'zel quest thing remained.

So it was Aldiirn, Astarion, Gale, and Lae'zel, all in for a big headache. End spoilers below!

big brain! big scary brain! Throwing the Netherstones was scream inducing. They gave a variety of options for each throw but it was always my weak stats grouped together lmao. Aldiirn passed the first INT check, then fucking whiffed the second CHA check because I just assumed I would pass and hit continue... but then I kinda got the sense passing or failing would not make much difference here and... yup.

Empy scoops us up into the Astral Prism and it's Orpheus time, babey. Freeing Orpheus was no question but I did question, "what if I became the mindflayer" which prompted Astarion to be like, "could we have an aside, privately? You're not really going to throw away that pretty face of yours?????" very cute.

Aldiirn knew Emperor was vehemently against freeing Orpheus, but hoped he could convince Emperor to see reason. Like they all got the same goals, they can all combine their power, we can talk Orpheus into cooling don his blood feud for the sake of a bigger bad. Aldiirn's a fucking bard with +15 Persuasion if anyone could do it, it would be him, but--- NO!!! EMPEROR HAD TO BE A GODDAMN BITCH AND SWITCHED SIDES LIKE. IMMEDIATELY. NO DISCUSSION. BRUH.

Also one thing I feel there was a missed opportunity on was confronting Emperor over, hey buddy weren't you the mindflayer that put tadpoles in our heads??? It's definitely Emperor in the opening scene. I really wanted to hear from it about what happened on the nautiloid but all we got were like, some records in Gortash's palace and it's ambiguous if Emperor was of itself at the time. alas.

Gave Lae'zel the honours to free Orpheus aaaand here's the mindflayer conversation all over again. And like, shit, after everything that was done to free the guy and drive the githyanki revolution, becoming the mindflayer felt most in character for Aldiirn. I'm pretty sure I sat over the decision for a solid ten minutes like WONT SOMEONE PERSUADE ME OUT OF THIS lmao. But Astarion kinda had with the aside before. I might make a comic to flesh out the moment like... I think it would be a good one of the party backing Aldiirn up to choose his own freedom after pushing for everyone else's.

Orpheus became the mindflayer, tragic but necessary. I felt so bad for Lae'zel. Uuggh the emotion in her face here.

and then the goofiest smile ever in High Hall haha. Everyone from Gather Your Allies being mushed in there felt a little contrived but, what the hell, SUMMON YOUR SOCIAL LINKS!!! I love a good friendship moment.

Hooboy the battles here really gave the D&D experience: waiting 40 minutes for your turn in initiative to show up. IDK why but at first I thought it would be a brilliant idea to surround the enemy but soon realised it turned the battle into an immediate slog. Reload, and instead fought starting from the wall on the west side. Got this nice little screencap of my mans fighting side by side even though neither should be anywhere near melee haha.

I have to say, I think I would have preferred that all the companions be allowed into the battle over the ally summons for the final battle. At least the origin ones. I want to replay it at some point with the party limit begone mod.

The tower was the hardest part, getting up past that stupid statue that COULDNT BE BROKEN DOWN... Aldiirn and Lae'zel could fly but Astarion and Gale couldn't even see where to teleport. It's SO annoying that Dimension Door has to be a point you can see now, its whole thing in 5e was that you didn't need to.

Whenever Gale brings up exploding himself I wanna do that Archer slap fest bit to him. Buddy, no, we are ALL getting out of this alive!

Up we go to the brain of the bad bitch herself and THE BIGGEST TRAITOR BITCH!!!!!! okay but bringing out the dream visitors to fight was cool. Seems Aldiirn's got reverted to the default drow dude (he should have had similar green skiin and short white hair) and I'm guessing the others are just kinda like, stock random ones. Looks like they are all human female. Would have been nice to see ones tailored for each companion you bring. Then they can all chide each other later like "so THAT'S what you find attractive?" hehe

Remember I stole that runepowder bomb from Wulbren? Yeah, I brought it with me as a parting gift for Emperor. Threw the bomb at its feet and then KA-BOOM!!!!! Wiped out Empy, all the Guardians, and fucked up everything else INCLUDING ALDIIRN. I have no idea WHAT happened -- maybe Emperor's shield of thralls??? -- because I'm certain he was behind Lae'zel when she threw & exploded the bomb and she was kind. Aldiirn just fucking dropped dead behind her. I just laughed and rolled with it, Astarion got Aldiirn back on his feet.

Fight was good, the most annoying bit were the Mindflayers and Dominating Aylin AGAIN. I swear to got that woman can never pass a WIS save.

And then when we got to the unshakeable will of the netherbrain???? Lae'zel fucking shredded it with 9 attacks. Astarion gets a crit with an Arrow of Aberration Slaying (but no sneak attack). It's hanging on by a thread.

Aldiirn enters.

"TWIT"

"TWAT"

"TWERP"

fucking. Vicious Mockeried the BBEG to death. The most legendary goddamn move a Bard can ever do. No other bard I play will ever top that.

Down she goooooes and oh fuck everyone's getting fucked from the tadpoles dying in their heads

And then... silence. it's over. Aldiirn has his cute face back I wanted to sob seeing it again. I really expected more consquences for taking the Astral tadpole but... still, I wanted him to survive and enjoy the rest of his life.

But of course there were still things to go wrong.

Lae'zel and Orpheus, I couldn't let Lae'zel devote her life to another cult and endless war when she could have her own freedom, forge her own destiny, so I persuaded her to stay on Faerun. Orpheus went and committed sudoku which, eh, tbh I feel like he was weak willed for that. It does feel a bit like everything done to free Orpheus was for naught but Lae'zel deserves a chance to live her own life.

Side note, I was amused that Aldiirn apparently still had his Illithid Expertise feature as that was his source of Persuasion Expertise at the end heh.

continuing the mood of "fuck doing anymore quests" I told Gale to leave the crown in the river... completely fucking forgetting that Mystra was gonna remove the orb in exchange for it afhdjkfsd. I like to think it keeps Aldiirn awake at night sometimes. "why did he listen to me. why hasn't he gone back for it. all our brains were fried right then why couldn't any of you make your own decisions." lmao.

and POOR ASTARION. Just fucking fried right there in the beautiful sun. Gale's like "well we'll never see him again" UH BRO WHAT??? PLEASE JUST HOLD THE OTHER END OF THIS FUCKING TARP SO WE CAN GET HIM INSIDE SOMEWHERE. Thooouuughhh I headcanon that Aldiirn cast Darkness on Astarion and tell him to hold on while another pressing matter ignites...

Karlach, baby, noooo!!! Promising to be with Karlach at the end is the only reason Aldiirn wouldn't immediately chase after Astarion and, yeah. Aaa my eyes were tearing so much. I thought back to her post-Gortash breakdown and was like, "karlach. you want to live. you SHOULD get to live. Go with Wyll to Avernus."

Kicking demon ass never looked so good. I figure, there's some hellish real estate opening, those two should look into it, and the REAL celebration party should be at the House of Hope so everyone can be there. :D

Aldiirn would have gone with Karlach and Wyll, but he's needed on this plane.

God, Astarion looks so hollow when he mentions losing his time in the sun. Aldiirn wants that back for him so badly, but also needs a fucking break from adventuring. I headcanon that reverting the partial illithid transforation was not a clean cut thing by any measure and Aldiirn has a longer road to recovery ahead of him. But he's not gonna sit idle. There's thousands of vampire spawn in is home, the Underdark, that need guidance, and just maybe a bardy bard is just the type needed to inspire them to band together. Aldiirn's gotta know of a large enough abandoned megadungeon that could house them all while they work to support themselves. And then, when he's in good enough shape, Aldiirn will find a way for Astarion to bask in the sun again.

[panigamermauser]

Thoughts about cut stuff part 5.

Guardian, Daisy and Tadpoles with consequences.

So, I absolutely love what they did with Guardian. 10/10 no comments or changes here.

But I miss Daisy very much tho. And cut content suggests that Guardian and Daisy could coexist. Let me explain under the cut.

Aka WE COULD'VE HAD IT ALL scream.

So, for people who didn't experience Early Access, a quick recap.

Daisy introduction was very different from Guardian. You had a very nice scene in the meadow by the river (and apparently, the song 'By the River' WAS about Daisy all along!).

Daisy was coming very hard onto you. They were a very obvious trap. But oh so tempting💖 Especially when you were actively prompted to make 'your desire' instead of just 'guardian' in character creator. So ofc you were making what you thought was attractive. Which made whole scene very appealing indeed😏

And to make matters worse (in the very best sense!) your companions had their own versions of them.

Cannot remember Lae's for the life of me. But Astarion had Cazador. Wyll had Myzora and Gale had Mystra. Which hit you like a truck, right in the feels💔💔💔

Astarion was SO ANGRY you got 'a wet dream' while he got the worst nightmare of his life💔💔💔

Shadowheart was weird for me as she said 'someone I am attracted to', and I got a vibe she was talking about Tav. 

I am not sure if it was because of high approval (Shadowheart was always ride or die for my Tav. I never had low approval with her once), so I do not know if she said something different when it was low.

Anyways, you got this feeling of 'wow I lucked out. I got a thirst-trap, and those three got their abusive exes instead'.

Not going to lie, I was looking forward angst and horror of Astarion's origin with Cazdor!Daisy.

Of course, even your nice dream felt like a clear trap, so there was little to no incentive to slurp tadpoles.

So I get why it was changed. Even if I am sad for the loss extra angst of Astarion, Gale and Wyll origins, it was objectively better intro of a character. And I made my peace with it at release.

But... from datamine we learn that Daisy WAS out tadpole and not the Emperor. So they are two totally different and separate characters. So there's no reason for them to not exist in the game world together!

And there was supposed to be an ending option of us falling for Daisy and turning into Illithid who is a part of hivemind too (similar to when you kill Emp at the beginning of Act3).

And now I wish we had Daisy back, as it offers an even better Emperor intro!

So, how to reconcile the two? Make Daisy appear in early Act1, like it was in Early Access, but then make Guardian intervene to save you.

Even if your character resists Daisy at every turn instead of giving in, make it harder each time. Eventually(maybe on third manifestation?) require only a nat20+get player to roll at a disadvantage at the same time. So when your roll fails, you get magic D20 appear and subdue/take over Daisy's form (add a line of 'since you find this form appealing, I'll keep using it' or smth like this, to preserve the mystery of Guardian's identity).

And then you get Guardian scenes as normal. Literally nothing would change after that. If anything, your char will be inclined to trust them even more.

Yes, it would require some obligatory Long Rests. But they are needed for companion scenes anyways, and it would allow to bring back Exhaustion mechanic (that was in the game and was cut too). I just think it would be neat in general. And it would make sure players do not miss out on game content!

And it would also explain why Astarion is so eager to slurp tadpoles - Guardian would literally save him from phantom Cazador!

(NGL I want Daisy return more for companion origins than Tav. Don't get me wrong, I adore original Daisy. It fits perfectly with 'horny on main' personality of Wysteria. But think of the ANGST for Astarion, Gale and Wyll origins and cry with me!)

I think Larian folks are perfectly able to do it. It would require just one new cutscene of Guardian vs Daisy. Daisy cutscenes were done long ago. So just use them and make one more to bridge Daisy to Guardian change.

But I do not think they will do it. They made their decision to rewrite the whole thing. And they chose not to combine those two stories, whatever their reasons were.

And as I said, Guardian storyline is superb as is. It's just datamine really makes me wish for a perfect world where we could have both 😭

What they really SHOULD add back is some tadpole-slurping consequences. 

Right now the only consequence is cosmetic. And only with astral tadpole. You can unlock all low-lvl extra abilities with absolutely zero downsides to you.

So if you play a character who resists the temptation - you get absolutely nothing for your loss of extra powers.

I feel like there should be a narrative trade-off. Giving into power should lock you out of certain endings, at the very least. Maybe even make you into Emperor's thrall (similar to being Astarion Ascended's spawn).

Ideally, corruption should start early on. In Act1 Narrator says that you loose parts of yourself when you use Illithid powers.

So, why is this not a mechanic? We know that mind flayers are pretty much emotionless. So why not start with loss of empathy? You slurped couple of tadpoles? Selfless dialogue options grey out. You slurped a lot? You get only pragmatic options like 'I'll help you if you pay' or being able to help only main quest essential NPCs, and others are regarded as being in your way.

You ate the astral one? Your romance companions(if not tadpilled to the gills too) comment on how cold you are now. Potentially breaking up with you/you murdering them (Balduran/Ansur style). 

And if they are also tadpilled - you cannot convince them to make good choices in their stories anymore. Mind Flayers do not give a fuck about anyone, but their own power. And if you are taking their powers - you are on your way to be one.

And that's exactly how Emperor wants you to be. He protects you only from merging into hive-mind, not from other side-effects.

I perfectly understand that my ideal version is not feasible. It would require rewriting an absurd amount of dialogues and rescripting bunch of cutscenes. I understand that.

BUT locking out certain endings for tadpilled (being unable to side with Orpheus, for example) should be patched in with the whole ending overhaul (that is NEEDED anyways). Otherwise what's the point in 'resisting' option at all? Couple of lines from Emperor that he is disappointed? Not enough😤

Tadpoles are a major part of the game, and yet narratively they mean absolutely nothing. I hate it.

Knowing they were planning to have consequences but chose not to... It makes it even worse. They understood the need to do something about it, and yet decided it was not worth the effort😔

[icedmetaltea]

Been playing Baldurs gate I see! I'm also obsessed with it currently

What's your party layout? Like which companions do you like to bring, have you changed their classes, etc. Also are you romancing anyone? 👀 wink wonk

(warning for rambling cause I am not normal about this game, I am not normal at all-)

Also warning for spoilers in general kinda

iosjeferijgvierjgv8erjvgoerhg0rehg0rejgre I'm like 30-something hours in and only just now found out I just completed act 1- I THOUGHT ACT 1 WAS OVER AFTER I COMPLETED THE GOBLIN CAMP 😭😭 Which isn't a bad thing cause that just means the game is way longer than I thought, more to enjoy.

I just changed my class from fighter to bard cause I was getting sad always leaving Karlach and Lae'zel out since I didn't need another guy doing heavy hits up front. That plus I was sick of never getting any advantage on persuasion checks. Not sure how I feel about it just yet since I haven't had much experience; I'll def miss my cool armor ; - ;

(fyi I didn't change their classes but adjusted their builds so they'd be more efficient, for instance Asterion basically can't lose at unlocking/disarming a thing cause he has so many advantages now)

Anyways I currently have Gale, Asterion and Shadowheart (was Karlach but brought in Shadowheart since I was curious too see if there'd be any unique dialogue in the Shar temple I'm currently in)

I keep switching out Gale and Wyll, I love them both and am tryna like get an equal amount of both BUT i don't rlly need more than one mage/socerer/whatever at a time ya feel.

The flaming gay va- I mean Asterion is almost entirely just there for unlocking things and disarming traps, man's an absolute twig in a fight 😭 I also like sending him up front to scout out the area in dungeons since I believe he has better perception. Also he was reminding me of someone for so long and I finally remembered what

Karlach is my tank currently, she deals a majority of the heavy damage and I just love her in general so I like to keep her whenever possible (can sub for Lae'zel but idk I don't like her that much?? At first I did but now she's just getting into fights with everyone willy nilly ya know??)

Shadowheart is strictly there for protection and healing. I HATE THIS BITCH SO MUCH!!! (sorry to all the shadowheart fans out there) Just to me she's so "oh the goddess likes me and not you, guess I'm better than the rest of you uwuwuwu" like bitch shut the fuck up please.

As for romancing, not sure?? I know you can technically be poly in this game so I'm tryna romance as many ppl as possible without locking myself into anything (I just had to brutally reject Wyll by just turning away my face from kiss bc apparently it's smash him or break his heart and no in-between, also I looked it up and he's monogamous so I rlly would lock myself into it and I don't want that, EVEN THO HE'S SO SWEET AND LOYAL AND WHOLESOME AND I WANNA H*G AND H*LD H*NDS WITH HIM, FUCK YOU GAME-)

I'll prolly play the game again in a couple months when there's a mod that lets you simultaneously romance everyone cause my RPG self is a SLUT and wants to form the ultimate polycule in any game I play. Everyone is too loveable not to.

Buuuut in the meantime yea I'm just tryna rizz everybody (aside from Wyll cause game is like ok no kiss?? No romance fuck you little dwarven WHORE) up.

If the dil- I mean Halsin is romanceable, I'm absolutely gonna h*ld h*nds with that man. That beast. That guy with GIANT HUGGABLE PECTORALS MMMMMMM. Also the fire queen goddess suprem- I mean Karlach is I thiiiink going pretty steady?? Haven't had any new dialogue options for a while but I think we're in a kinda flirty zone currently so that's good. God she's so wholesome and wonderful, I love her with my entire being and soul. If anything happens to her I will exterminate all life on this planet and then myself.

As for Lae'zel?? I think she was a very much smash or pass person cause when I turned her down at the party she hasn't had much more to say to me sadge (which is fine cause idk like I said she's just been grating on my nerves) Not sure about the others, it's kinda hard to tell, especially with Gale. Maybe cause I've been rizzing other ppl, and I've heard he's also monogamous, wehhhhh (which is valid but c'mon let a bitch dream of polycules and giant sleepovers with a hundred blankets and everyone forming the ultimate cuddle pile around the tiny dwarf who will never know a cold night again)

[lserver362reviews]

Previous review:

The amount that I could take off this score, because I don't think it's perfect (certain Gerwig-isms that grind my gears are present), are so slim that it really doesn't affect the overall 5 stars out of 5! This movie was made for me! I've been a Barbie-head for the majority of my life, and an existentialist. Phenomenal casting, music, set design, direction, and themes. I don't think this movie quite found equilibrium but the fact that it touched me and entertained the hell out of me is enough. I could go on and on but I won't! Ryan Gosling is a gift. This is the Maximalist film of the year (Elvis taking 2022's title)!! (& That's my doctor!)

Update:

This really is even better on a rewatch! Everything that hit me as off-putting or took me out of the first viewing went down easy on the second go. The feminist rant Gloria goes on to existential crisis stereotypical Barbie felt really natural and I appreciated how this is actually how people talk. It hit different for whatever reason, and this audience in the packed theater broke out in snaps for that part which surprised me. Maybe I was just being susceptible to the very thing they point out, which is that once you name something you can engage with it better. It doesn't make contradiction go away but it can shift your framework. I still teared up at the first sight of Ruth Handler, who in my first viewing I figured that was her, but I did wonder for a moment if, based sewing machine, it was Carol Spencer. I'm not sure why seeing Barbie interact with Ruth hits me so deeply but it really does. I first learned about Ruth and her daughter Barbara, and formally about Barbie, as an 8th grader for some social studies project. I hated projects and my teacher basically suggested that the conclusion of my project was that Barbie warped girls self-image. He didn't know he was talking to a day one Barbie defender. I think it hits me as the perfect reverence to motherhood, but also as reverence to having a creator (cue Nearer my God to Thee) to walk with. I think my existentialism will always fall to religious or spiritual thinking. What was also special about this viewing is that I went with my mom, which sometimes her reactions to things just crack me up. I'm glad she really really liked it and came away saying how it was funny and fun, but she did miss P.J. (her coveted doll) and Stacie. She also said that one doesn't have to be so serious about this film. (Sorry mom for the rest of this review!) The other day, after my first watch I tweeted, "It cannot be understated: the phenomenal job @lizzo's work on #BarbieTheMovie does to bring us into the world, to set the tone, to set us up for the story ahead. All the music was so well used (ty Mark Ronson) but the fact that it was Lizzo who brought me into it was everything." I still stand by this point and a second watch only made me notice more fantastic music cues and just how much Billie Eilish's What Was I Made For? is used. What a beautiful theme for this film. Once again I wear my undergrad philosophy hat by recognizing the Nietzschean "Yes" Barbie utters after grounding herself in feeling and thereby channeling her existence as a human. Barbie becomes the ubermensch. I really wish that I could teach a feminism and philosophy class with this as the primary text. I think there's also much of the messaging of the Wizard of Oz in that scene where Ruth Handler is a mix of The Wizard and the Good Witch Glinda, helping Barbie to realize that what she wants, and where she belongs, is deep within herself already. She's ready to leave a fantastical place because she loves her humanity and own soul that experiences all that makes life alive. It's very Dorothy Gale and a character that I'm deeply touched by. Barbie loves humanity, she wants to embrace her agency, just like all of us. In the wise words of FrankNFurter from the Rocky Horror Picture Show, "Don't dream it, be it" (or something more contemporary, Top Gun: Maverick, "don't think, just do"). Ken also learns that all he really needs is to decipher what he's feeling, communicate it, and know that he's (K)enough. Ryan Gosling really just knocked it all the way out of the park with this role. The Ken dance number on the sound stage makes me think of the way dance is used in Footloose and how a good dance in an abandoned warehouse can really clear the mind and heart. This is a deeply humanist film delivered to us in the most maximalist way. For that, I give Barbie the Maximalist Film of 2023 Award. This award is given in my head and past winners are Elvis (2022). To quote Harry Styles, "You know, my favorite thing about the movie is, like, it feels like a movie. It feels like a real, like, you know, 'go to the theater' film movie."

[laleleng]

You amazed me of your actions. I don’t know what to feel or what to say but I know I am fucking scared.

Im scared babe.

Ayoko na masaktan and alam kong ikaw din.

So here’s the thing, Early in the morning while papunta palang ako sa station I saw the energen and hansel na. :( I knew na sayo yon galing. Those gestures makes may heart melt. I liked it.. so much. Then I checked my seatalk confirming na ikaw nga yung nagiwan. You know your para paraan moves is so cute, you were asking for a sugar knowing na may sugar naman sa pantry so alam mo bang kahit wala akong asukal nanginig p din ang mga kateam ko para maghanap. Around my short break I said na kunin mo na but sabe mo is busy ka pa so later na when I was going back to my station because nag Cr ako, Im shocked andon ka sa team mich. nagkatitigan tayo and tanguan. You’re always making an effort just to see me that I am actually starting to missed it because I dont think if hanggang kelan ka ganyan. I asked you if you want na magsabay tayo ng lunch since wala akong kasama pero nahihiya ka e. I dont know Ranz but everytime that you are around nanghihina ako. Then I decided to join kina ate Jen para bumili ng chocolate sa baba since cravings nila yon, I bought take it and hershey. And yes guess what I gave to you the hershey. :) Before mag out tinawag ka nila and then pumunta ka sa station namin. Pinagha- hi ka nila and you was like “Hi babe” huyy sabe mo mahiyain ka ah! Hahaha nakailang babe ka non and kilig na kilig sila ate. Then you said thank you and ingat ako kase umuulan, you offered a raincoat na din kase nga malakas talaga yung ulan. So bago umuwi nagkasalubong tayo sa CR you asked again kung uuwi nako? Sabe mo later na lang kase nga maulan. But I said okay kang sa baba na kang naman ako magpapatila but AGAIN this time hindi na rain coat yung inoffer mo kundi yung hoodie mo.

You always hit the button.

I am happy. I hope you are too. I hope I can save you.

I want to save you from your pain.

I want to bring back your smile again the way you gave mine.

Everything you see to me right now is the thing that I lost few years ago. I know its not easy for you but if you will allowed me to help you and bring you back. Would you join this ride? Let heal each others trauma. And I’ll promise to you that I will be your best girl but promise me that your consitency and assurance will never change..

But I know right now. Your intention is not clear to me, para saan to lahat.. Can I pick your brain and get to know your thoughts? I am slowly falling.

Love,

LaLaBsak

[importanttigercreation]

Welcome to the news channel of the Angry Nature,Today we will tell you about Greece floods, A man died and a woman was missing after powerful storms caused flooding on Greece’s biggest island of Crete, authorities have said. The Greek fire brigade said on Saturday that a 50-year-old man died and a woman was missing after their car  carried away in flash floods in the town of Agia Pelagia, about 25 kilometres (16 miles) northwest of Iraklio. They recovered the man from the vehicle that washed into the sea after it was swept up by raging waters. A man died and a woman was missing after powerful storms caused flooding on Greece’s biggest island of Crete, authorities have said. The Greek fire brigade said on Saturday that a 50-year-old man died and a woman was missing after their car was carried away in flash floods in the town of Agia Pelagia, about 25 kilometres (16 miles) northwest of Iraklio. They recovered the man from the vehicle that washed into the sea after it was swept up by raging waters. The fire brigade has received hundreds of calls from people asking to bring them to safety or pump water out of flooded buildings on the island, a fire brigade official said. Authorities said they were investigating more reports of missing people and feared others may have been trapped in their cars. But gale force winds were continuing to blow across most of the island. At least 10 cars have been seen floating in the sea off the coast of Agia Pelagia, which appeared to be the hardest hit area on the island. Firefighters rescued a woman who was trapped inside her car before it was flushed into the sea. On the east side of the island, residents of the Lasithi area received an SMS text message warning them not to leave their homes. Meanwhile, on the western side of the island, houses have been flooded in the city of Chania, according to regional officials. Four people were trapped in two vehicles in the city of Sitia, about 265km (165 miles) from Chania. Eight tourists and a guard were trapped inside the town’s archaeological museum, according to the local police. #greece_flood #greek_flood #greek_smorm ________________________________ The channel lists such natural disasters as: 1) Geological emergencies: #earthquake  #volcanic_eruption  mudflow, #landslide landfall, avalanche; 2) Hydrological emergencies:  #flash_flood #tsunami  Limnological catastrophe, floods, flooding; 3) Fires: Forest fire, Peat fire, Glass Fire, Wildfire; 4) Meteorological emergencies: #tornado, #cyclone #blizzard  Hail, Drought, Hail, #hurricane #storm, Thunderstorm, typhoon Tempest, Lightning. ATTENTION: All videos are taken from open sources. The selection is based on publication date, title, description, and venue. Sometimes, due to unfair posting of news on social networks, the video may contain frames that do not correspond to the date and place. It is not always possible to check all videos. We apologize for any errors! Thank you for watching, don't forget to subscribe our channel, We Wish you good Weather,

[countrymusiclover]

2 - Capital Call

Part 3

Victor's Daughter

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I roll over in my bed finding a letter laying on the table from my father. Opening it I smiled since this is the first one he's sent me since last year. "Dear Y/n, I miss you. We both know what day is coming, the Reaping. I talked with some of my friends and they told me that you should be safe once again. Two more years my baby girl and this will no longer be needed. Attached is something that made me think of you, I love you remember that always - your father." Tearing something off the envelope I unrolled it to see a small ring with a rose designed into the top of it. He had told me in one of our earlier letters that my birth mother liked roses so I slip it on my right ring finger weakly smiling.

Brushing my hair I changed into a simple green dress looking to the time on the clock before my mother enters the room. "I wish you luck, my girl." I hugged her and she tucks hair behind my ear smiling. "You're growing up to look so closely to your mother." I smiled hearing the bell ringing outside for everyone to head to the center of town for the Reaping. I twist the fabric of my dress standing in the lime before getting my finger pricked drawing blood to sign in. Foosteps approached beside so I glanced over seeing its Katniss with her brown hair up in a bun. Fear written all over her face but I knew it wasn't at the possibility of her name getting picked. It was for Prim. She turned twelve this year meaning this was her first year that her name could be drawn from the bowl. We reached the others group of girls our age right as I take her hand in mine.

She intertwined her hand in mine before I saw Gale who mouths something to her I don't know before the microphone gets hit by the announcer woman in a pink dress and bows, Effie Tricket my father spoke. "Welcome, happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor!" I bite my lip not liking how much pride she had in her tone. She's been living in the Capital and doesn't know what it's like to lose someone you love or have to kill people. My mother told me that when I was a baby and my father was around he would sleep with a knife in his hands. Too afraid that someone would kill him or baby me in the middle of the night. "Now the time has come to select one caraguois young man and woman. For the honor of representing District 12 in the 74th annual Hunger Games. As usual, ladies first." I squeeze Katniss's hand closing my eyes and praying it's not who we think.

"Primrose Everdeeen!" Effie announced through the microphone. I gasped feeling some tears slip out. Opening my eyes I watched in honor as everyone around her turned to stare at her. Prim ever so slowly started walking towards the stage. Katniss pushed her way through the people. Capital guards started to hold her back as her sister spun on her feet. "I volunteer, I volunteer. I volunteer as tribute!" Katniss hit a guard shouting the words no one has ever said in our district. It was common in districts like in 1 and 2. Katniss hugged her sister to her chest telling her to leave but she refused so I break through the crowd with Gale following after me. "Prim, you need to go. We need to go." I try pulling her arm but she plants her feet into the dirt. "I don't want to Y/n." Gale finally picked her up and she reached out for her sister screaming.

I started to follow them but the two guards hold me back grabbing my forearms. I raise my eyebrows at them before two other guards lead Katniss up onto the stage. Effie returned to the microphone ordering the guards. "Bring them both up please." Me, why me. Prim is hugging her mother tight as Gale mouths something up to me. The guards released me as I shake my head confused back towards him. "And now for the boys, Peeta Mellark." The guards escorted the blonde haired boy up onto the stage. Effie smiled resting her hands on their shoulders to the crowd. "Our tributes from District 12. Katniss Everdeeen and Peeta Mellark!" Effie turned her head back towards me directing with her right hand. I slowly stepped forward where she rested her arm over my shoulder still smiling. "And Y/n L/n shall go to the Capital to watch own our presidents granddaughter!" My mind is going like crazy hearing her say that. Something like this has never been done before. The only reason someone went to the Capital was to go into the games. Glancing down to my finger they took blood from I bawl it into a fist. Dad and I always feared that they might figure out our secret through my blood. I just never imagined it would be two years before I wouldn't have to worry about it. But I especially never thought I'd be going to the Capital.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hiiii, y’all! I got drabble requests — that I love and appreciate and will be writing v soon — but somehow this is the concept that my brain wanted to write tonight. I was reading a fic and I got suddenly inspired and this extremely angsty, canon compliant oneshot was born. I’ve never written in Peeta’s point of view before though so go easy on me 🥺😘😅.

Trigger Warning : As it centers around Peeta’s childhood, it contains strong mentions of maternal abuse.

Summary : Peeta confronts his regretful mother the night the Quarter Quell is announced.

“Did you ever love me at all?”

I stare at her, the woman who used to hit me with a belt, who turned my face black and blue with her open palm, who put angry red lines across my back, who chased me down the upstairs hallway until I was cornered and trapped, until I was at her mercy. The woman who singlehandedly became the motivation behind Rye’s wrestling career and subsequently mine too.

She’s a mess now. Her blonde hair tied up in a disastrous bun, the small amount of makeup she can afford — and cherishes like gold — smeared all around her eyes, her knuckles bright red, like she’d banged her fist into the wall with all the force in her body.

She’s not a big lady. She’s nowhere near as large as she seemed when I was a kid. Back when I was small and naive and all I wanted was her attention. All I wanted was for her to care about me.

I’m twice her size now. I’m as tall as Rye and barely two inches shorter than Rueben. Our father still has all three of us beat in size but I sense my eldest brother will surpass him any day now.

I’m twice her size and she can’t hurt me now even if she tried and yet, when I stand before her, one on one, I still feel like the little boy who asked her to kiss better the mark that came from inside her own fist.

“Mama,” I murmur quietly, alerting her suddenly to my presence.

Her head flies up from her desk at once, staring at me in shock. “Peeta?”

“Hi,” I whisper, my vocal cords giving out when I need them most. I try to swallow the lump building in my throat — the lump I always feel when in her presence — and instead I make it worse.

“What’re you doing here?” She asks and there’s no malice in her tone but I flinch just the same. Because I don’t know. I don’t know what to tell her. I don’t know why I came here.

Because you’re my mother and you were my first home and I miss you even though I spent every day of my life wishing to escape from you?

Because I’m headed back into an arena once again, this time for certain death of my own accord, and I feel like if I don’t do this now I never will.

Because Katniss turned to Gale in her hour of need and I can’t fault her, I can’t blame her for loving him, but it stings. It stings so bad. It stings and it hurts and it throbs to the point where I think I might explode and when I’m in pain, all I can think about is you. All I can think about is you and your rage and your rejection and my being a constant disappointment to you. All I can think about is how much pain you inflicted on me when I was only a child. What did I do to deserve that?

“Peeta?” She inquires again when I don’t reply, squinting at me through the darkness of the night. We have to be quiet or else we’ll wake my father, sleeping only twenty feet away in the next room.

I can smell her breath from here. It mildly surprises me, to sniff alcohol so blatantly on her. Typically it’s my father who drinks away his sorrows. Typically it’s him who passes out drunk and one of us boys are dispatched to bring him home and put him to bed before he can disgrace his wife beyond repair.

“Why were you drinking?” I ask, avoiding the question in her baby blue eyes. The same eyes she gave to me. I don’t even know why people claim I look like my father. I stare at my mother like I’m staring into a mirror. I have her upturned blue eyes and matching nose. I have her downturned mouth and rounded chin. I have her exact shade of white blonde hair and the barely visible eyelashes too. I have her mannerisms when upset and sometimes when I close my eyes, I swear I can hear her berating me like not a day has passed since I lived under her thumb.

She looks down at the empty glass bottle by her feet, as if her inebriation is news to even her. I see a flare of defensive anger flash across her face — she has so many different kinds of anger. I wonder if it’s normal to be able to identify them all in under a second. I wonder if it’s normal to feel a knot twist in your stomach when your mother reaches for your hand — but she composes herself. She composes herself and reaches for my hand and I pull away on instinct because the only times she ever showed me affection was after she’d hurt me real bad.

She has the good sense now to look down at the ground, at least. Finally, she is feeling a tinge of the rejection she drowned me in my whole entire life.

“How did you get in here?” She asks quietly, standing up from her chair, straightening her spine and meeting my gaze. Transforming into someone else again.

Rejection has always made her change shape.

“Dad left the backdoor unlocked. I came up through the side stairwell,” I tell her evenly, but we both know that’s not the answer she’s looking for.

“Why are you here?” Once again, there’s nothing but plain, quiet curiosity in her tone but I still feel my chest ache at the question.

And I can’t drag this out any longer. “Did you ever love me?” I murmur, feeling as pathetic as I know she thinks I am. “Even when I was little? Or when I was born? Did you ever love me at all?”

“You stupid creature!”

“Can you do just one thing right?”

“You think I wanted this life? You think I wanted to be your mother?”

“Of course I did,” she says, maybe for the first time ever, but it barely registers to me. Maybe it’s because after a lifetime of waiting to hear it, the sentiment falls short to the fantasy my mind created. Or maybe it’s because I don’t believe it. Too much has happened. You can’t wipe a chalkboard clean in one night. Especially if the writing on the board is seventeen years old.

Somehow that revelation is the most painful of all and I turn quickly to go before she can clock the liquid quickly building up behind my lids.

“I loved you,” she exclaims abruptly, catching me off-guard. Her outburst paralyzes me into place. “I loved you more than anything,” she proclaims now, and I hear the tears in her voice and the most insane urge to console her wells up deep inside my chest. But I force it down. You can’t make up for seventeen years in one night. “You were my baby. You are, Peeta. You are-“

“Don’t say that,” I hiss, but my mouth feels disconnected from my brain and my head is spinning. I’ve never heard these words before. Not from her. Not ever from her lips. Fury bubbles up inside me as I turn to face her. “Don’t you dare tell me that now. You told me you hated me. So many times.”

“I never said that.”

“You never had to actually say it. I could see it!” I have to make a conscious effort to lower my voice. The last thing I want is to have my father join in on our happy moment right here. “I could see it, Mama. In everything. Every time you looked at me, you acted like I was a disturbance to you. You could barely tolerate being around me-“

But it’s her turn to interrupt me. “It wasn’t you I couldn’t tolerate, Peeta. It was me. You reminded me so much of myself. In ways you can’t even begin to understand. You were so much like me. And I hated being me.”

Her words are earnest, there seems to be an element of truth behind her tone, her tears appear to be real. And what she’s saying tracks. Years ago, my father used to tell me the same thing.

“She doesn’t hate you, Peeta. Sometimes you just remind your mother of the parts of herself she doesn’t like so much.”

“It’s not about you, son. It’s never been about you.”

“She loves you. She loves you, she just can’t express it. She can only see the bad parts of herself. And sometimes that makes her only see the bad parts of her inside you.”

But somehow hearing over and over again that I’m just like the woman who once hit me in the face so hard I told my friends I fell off the bakery roof and they believed me doesn’t give me much comfort at all.

“That’s too bad,” I whisper, realizing we’ve stood in silence for too long. Realizing that my coming to see her tonight was pointless and to come here of all places, after seeing the person I love most in the world in the arms of the one she loves, means I’m nothing more than a glutton for punishment.

I am nothing. Just like my mother always said.

And evidently she’s not even done yet. No, for some reason she’s rambling on, twisting her hands the way she used to in the aftermath of her maltreatment. “You were stubborn. When you were young, you were the most stubborn boy there ever was. And sarcastic. And too hopeful. You believed in fantasies. You always believed you could be more than this district would let you be.”

“What?” I snap, exasperation rising up and decimating the lump in my throat. “You’re not making any sense.”

“I’m telling you all the ways you were like me. All the bad qualities I passed down to you.” She sniffles loudly and wipes her nose in the same way she smacked my hand once with a wooden spoon for doing. “I was trying, Peeta. I was trying to protect you,” she admits desperately. “I thought if I was hard on you, it would prepare you better for life in the long run. I thought that if I could rid you of all my qualities, you would end up happier than me. I was trying to give you what you needed.”

I feel my chest heave involuntarily and I have to look away, ashamed to be crying in her presence. “What I needed was a mother who loved me,” I say through gritted teeth, fighting to keep it together even a little. “If you cared about me at all, that’s what you should have given me. Not bruises and bloody noses because you thought it necessary to beat the qualities you couldn’t stand out of me.”

“I did love you,” she pleads, her eyes — the same eyes as mine — flashing to the empty liquor bottle on the ground. “I do love you, Peeta. So much. After that announcement tonight, I was beside myself. I can’t stand the idea of you heading back into that place-“

But I can’t stand the idea of letting her finish that sentence. “Is that why you told me last year that Katniss was District Twelve’s big winner? That she’s a survivor?”

And in an instant, she’s casting her gaze down towards her shoes, the remorse splayed plainly across her features. Almost inaudibly, she still attempts to explain. “I was always most motivated when trying to prove someone wrong. I didn’t mean-“

“The last time you may ever see me and you thought to give me some kind of reverse psychology?” I exclaim, still seeing bright red.

Which apparently is another quality I get from her. My ire. As evidenced by her quick tonal shift as well.

“I thought it would make it easier if you didn’t come home again!”

We both fall silent at that. There’s nothing left for me to say. I have all the answers I’ll ever get and there’s nothing she could say that’ll make me feel better. There’s nothing that can erase the past or change my childhood or alter my memory. There’s nothing that can make me forget the way she treated me growing up.

But she’s not done yet. She starts walking towards me and I’m about to leave before this scene gets any more dramatic and my father gets involved, but she grasps my arm before I reach the doorway. She grasps my arm in a gentle hold, so different from the hand that used to stain me purple without remorse.

“I’m sorry, Peeta,” she whispers, begging me to hear her. Begging me to hear her sincerity and remorse. “I’m so sorry for what I did. I’m so sorry for how I treated you. For how I hurt you.”

I shake my head though, the tears I tried so hard to repress flowing freely now. “Stop,” I rasp but she pretends not to hear me.

“You were always a good boy. It was me who was bad. I was the disappointment,” she insists, her voice considerably firm for the amount of salt water coursing down her face. “I was wrong. Not you, honey. Me. I was wrong.”

But you can’t erase seventeen years in one night and I try to break away again, but I’m just too overcome with emotion to refuse any longer.

And then she pulls out a weapon strong enough to cut me to my knees in an instant.

“It wasn’t your fault, Peeta. What I did to you and your brothers wasn’t any of your faults.”

“Stop talking,” I urge desperately, my jaw locked tight and my teeth biting into the soft flesh of my tongue. “Just stop it. Please.”

But her arms are slowly coming around me and she’s close to sobs and she begins to whisper the painful sentiment all over again. “It wasn’t your fault that I hurt you. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I let you go so long without hearing that. But I don’t want you to die without knowing that I was the one in the wrong. And I would take it all back in a second if I could-“

And I can’t stand it anymore. I give into her hug, collapsing against her with such a force it knocks us both down to our knees. I’m not a little boy anymore, I’m not the child she could so easily hurt, I’m not the kid who was too afraid to stand up for himself or his brothers, but he still exists inside of me. It’s him that wants my mother’s embrace, who wants the apology for the wounds he didn’t understand, for the words that kept him awake at night, that caused him to fall asleep with a damp pillow.

And I know she may just be drunk or that she could take it all back when tomorrow comes. I know that this is merely her guilt speaking and my probable death is hanging heavy over her head. But there was a time when these words were all I ever wanted to hear and I choose to take that for what it’s worth.

It doesn’t mean to me now what it might have years ago. But it still means something.

It still means something.

[jlalafics]

"Photograph"-a Royal!Everlark story

This was inspired by this prompt from @writing-prompt-s:

When you were seven, you held a fake wedding by the swings with a kid you met at the park. You never saw your childhood “spouse” again after that day. Today you received a letter summoning you to a foreign country… where your wedding to the heir to the throne twenty years ago is seen as valid.

This is totally unedited. Thank you to @sparklingdust4612 for bringing this prompt to my attention. Looking forward to everyone else's interpretations along with this one and the story by @jhsgf82!

I actually have more of this but I thought I'd show y'all a little bit of my interpretation of the above prompt.

****

We keep this love in a photograph

We made these memories for ourselves

Where our eyes are never closing

Hearts are never broken

And time's forever frozen, still…

-Ed Sheeran

Photograph

Katniss Everdeen loved building castles.

In the massive sandbox, she packed another bunch of sand into her bucket before placing it upside down to set. While waiting, Katniss imagined how she would decorate the inside of her palace, a delighted smile growing on her face as she thought of the possibilities.

First, the walls would all be yellow. Not the ugly yellow that looked like snot—but yellow like Prim’s, her baby sister, golden locks.

Yellow meant hope: that’s what Daddy always said.

Knocking on the sides of the bucket to loosen the sand like Mommy showed her, Katniss slowly lifted it revealing a perfect tower for her castle.

“Yes!” she hollered, jumping up in excitement.

Her eyes went to Mommy who was sitting on the bench across the way. She was talking to a pretty, yellow-haired woman with a big tummy. Prim was asleep in her stroller, her binky hanging from her mouth.

“Mommy!” Katniss rushed over, stopping just a scant from toppling over on the concrete. “Look! I’ve made the perfect tower!”

Her mother smiled proudly.

“That’s wonderful, Katniss.” She turned to the woman next to her. “My Katniss is always building and dreaming on how to make her perfect home. Her teachers tell me that she has such a creative mind for a seven-year-old.”

“How absolutely charming,” the woman responded kindly, a smile on her pink lips.

Katniss tilted her head at the sound of her voice. There was something different about the way the lady talked—the dips of it sounded strange—but still nice.

“Why do you sound like that?” she asked bluntly.

Her Mommy frowned. “Katniss Everdeen! Please apologize!” She looked to the woman once more. “I’m so sorry—”

“That’s perfectly alright,” the lady assured her. The pretty woman turned to Katniss. “I have a little bit of an accent because of where I’m from, that’s why my voice sounds different.”

Katniss nodded. “Okay, but it does sound nice…like a song!” She smiled. “What’s your name?”

The woman glowed like an angel. “My name is Marguerite.”

“Hello Miss Marguerite.” Katniss looked to where her sandcastle waited. “I better go before someone takes my stuff! Bye!”

Throwing a wave at the woman, she plopped back down onto her space in the sandbox ready to add some detailing to her newest tower—

The foot crushing her tower landed straight in the middle of it creating a space between each side.

Katniss fumed and her eyes went up to the blond-haired boy with the snooty face.

She stood, her hand slamming into his chest. “Hey! You destroyed my castle!”

The boy stared at her in shock. “No one ever touches me!”

“Until now—”

Katniss was suddenly blocked by another boy, tall and dark-skinned.

“No one touches his royal highness,” he declared, and the blond boy stuck his tongue at her.

Another boy, this one dark-haired and sharp-eyed, approached.

“Prince Peeta has decided that you will be his bride,” he stated with a scowl.

Katniss made a face, crossing her arms to show them how disgusting that sounded. “Gross.”

The so-called Prince Peeta walked over to her.

“As my bride, you can make as many sandcastles as you want,” he explained. “I’ll build a bigger sandbox than this for you!”

Something inside zinged at the thought. “Really?”

The boy shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

Katniss eyed him suspiciously. “Why would you want to marry me anyway?”

Peeta shifted in his stance, the confidence in his blue eyes suddenly wavering. “I like your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

A rise of pink colored his cheeks. “They’re soft…and pretty.”

That had been it for her.

On that warm afternoon, by the swings of District 12’s only playground, Katniss Everdeen married the so-called Prince Peeta.

“You may now kiss the bride,” Gale, the dark-haired boy, said. He looked at Peeta, a teasing smile on his face. “Go on—kiss her!”

“Close your eyes,” Peeta told her.

Katniss, wearing her paper towel veil courtesy of the park’s public bathroom, did what he said and closed her eyes.

SPLAT!

She barely registered being shoved down into the muddy puddle.

Katniss looked up at the sneering boy, feeling the rise of anger in her body.

“That’s what you get for pushing me.”

++++++

Twenty years later…

“Katniss.” She looked up from laptop to find Prim at her open doorway. Her sister held out a Fed-Ex envelope. “This just came for you.”

Without even glancing at it, Katniss tossed the envelope on her bed, going back to the open page on her screen.

“Don’t you want to open it?” Prim stepped into the room and plopped onto the bed, picking the post up to examine it. “It looks important.”

“Probably one of those things saying that I’m eligible for another credit card.” Katniss frowned, sitting back, and staring at the blinking cursor. “I’m so stuck on this blog post!”

“Is this the one about kitchen flowers?” her sister asked, and she nodded. “You got some great pictures from Madge’s shop.”

“I know but my writing inspiration is zilch,” Katniss explained. “I need to get this done if I want to post by Mother’s Day.”

“Speaking of Mother’s Day, mom is wondering if you’re bringing anyone to Sunday dinner,” Prim informed her.

“I love our mother but lately every conversation we’ve had is either about my lack of a dating life or my withering eggs,” Katniss said. “Right now, I need to focus on getting more attention on the blog. It’s just gaining momentum!” She rested back and turned to her sister. “This is important to me.”

“I know,” Prim replied. “And you are good at it. I mean, look at what you’ve done to our apartment! To this room!”

Her sister’s bright blue eyes looked around the buttercream room, beautifully decorated with white-washed furniture. The console that her television sat atop was bought at a nearby thrift shop and refurbished by her. Katniss had sanded it down before putting a whitewash over it and adding lacquer to give it a more modern look.

In fact, most of the furniture in her and Prim’s apartment was completely refurbished by her. She had always had an eye for decorating and instead of going to a four-year college, Katniss had opted to go to design school.

Creating something new from what people considered junk gave her a special kind of thrill—almost akin to being in love.

At least that’s what she thought it might feel like.

“Whoa!”

Katniss whipped over to her sister—who was holding an unfolded paper in her hands.

She stood from her seat and went to Prim. “What?”

Wordlessly, Prim handed the piece to her—it was a letter.

The letter was on marbled paper, an elegant insignia atop it, and she could see that the elegant calligraphy was done by hand:

Dear Miss Everdeen,

You are hereby summoned to the kingdom of Panem to present yourself to His Royal Highness, King Peeta.

Photo documentation has validified that you are the Queen Consort to His Royal Highness.

Attached is my business card, please contact me to arrange your travel to Panem.

Respectfully,

The Rt. Hon. Effie Trinket

Private Secretary to His Royal Highness

“This is a joke!” Katniss tossed the letter onto her desk and laughed. “Photo documentation? There is no such thing—”

The laugh fell from her lips as Prim turned the FedEx envelope upside down and a single photo fell onto her bedspread.

“There’s a business card in here, too,” Prim told her carefully.

Walking over, Katniss could see that the photo was facedown.

Trembling, she picked the print up and read the elegant cursive atop it:

‘Peeta and his new bride, Katniss Everdeen!’

Next to the caption was a happy face; it was obvious that this statement was made in jest.

Turning the photograph, a wave of nausea hit seeing the image of her seven-year-old self, a paper towel veil atop her head, joining hands with a blond boy—

Prince Peeta.

Or to be more precise, His Royal Highness King Peeta of Panem.