#effe writes

[effelants]

Book, Singular

Rolan & Cal & Lia (Baldur's Gate 3)

sibling dynamics, canon character backstory fic, found family

A short backstory fic about Rolan meeting Cal and Lia for the first time. I have a lot of feelings about them.

read it on AO3

The tiny little bed in the tiny little room in the tiny little shack was as uncomfortable as it had been every day of every year since he’d been brought here — but, today, it was even more ill-suited to reading than usual. Why the new kids had decided to make his part of the yard their favorite place to play was entirely unfathomable to Rolan; there was nothing here, in the depressing corner of the world that housed him. It was just crumbling piles of stone that had once been the back garden wall and his little ramshackle hut, darkened and dampened by the heavy shadows of all the sprawling trees and shrubs no one considered important enough to keep well-groomed.

And yet those damn kids had decided that this, of all places, was where they were going to run around and scream, day in and day out.

Rolan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to call on the meager amount of patience he’d been gifted with. He couldn’t afford to get on the wrong side of Miss Holly again, not so soon after the last time. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up on his ass out on the street a full year ahead of schedule.

A sudden silence outside his door made up for his lacking ability to calm himself — perhaps the day had finally come that some deity took pity on him. It was about time. He opened his eyes, trained them back on the paragraph he’d been reading… and was once again distracted by an obnoxious shriek right outside his door.

“That’s it!” he yelled, pushing himself to his feet and taking the two steps necessary to get from his bed to the door in a single stride. It slammed into the wall of the hut as he shoved it open, not even bothering with his usual pretense of turning the ineffective, broken knob. “Shut up! I’m trying to read in here!”

Two pairs of wide, unblinking eyes stared back at him, and it was almost enough to make him regret his outburst — almost.

“W-we’re sorry,” the little boy stammered. “We… we didn’t know there was anyone in there. M-miss Holly d-didn’t say.”

“Well, there is,” he growled. “And he’s trying to concentrate, so piss off.”

“He said it was an accident!” The girl crossed her arms over her chest. “And he apologized! You’re supposed to say it’s okay.”

“Says who — your mother?”

An achingly familiar shadow passed over the girl’s defiant face, and the little boy’s lip quivered.

“Oh.” Rolan paused. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Leave it to him to forget he wasn’t the only orphan in the orphanage.

The girl narrowed her eyes. “You should be sorry. That was mean.”

“I know. I am — sorry, that is.”

“And also mean.”

“Um… I guess so?”

“Good.” The girl nodded decisively. “You’re honest. I like you.”

“Lia, I think we should g—”

“You have books?” The girl — Lia, apparently — cut her brother off.

“I…” Rolan blinked. “Yes. I mean, I have ‘book’ — singular.”

“That’s fine, ‘book, singular’ works too! To make up for shouting at us, you’re going to read to us. I like it when adults read to me.”

With that, Lia marched right past him and into the shack.

Her brother grimaced. “I’m sorry, sir—”

“No, I’m not… I mean, I’m not a sir. And I’m not an adult. I’m just… Rolan. I’m one of the kids here, too.”

“Oh.” The boy looked him up and down, and his brow furrowed — but, unlike his sister, he seemed able to hold his tongue. That was good — Rolan didn’t particularly want to hash out the details of why, exactly, it was that he was nearing the dawn of his adulthood and still living at the orphanage. It was never a good time to get into the nitty-gritty of just how unloved and unwanted he was.

“You! Adult!” came the demanding call from behind him. “Come read! Now!”

Rolan sighed — but, try as he might, he could only see one way out of the situation. He turned to Lia’s brother and raised a brow. “And your name was?”

“Cal.”

“Well, Cal — I don’t know how interesting either of you will find a book on the Weave, but it’s all I have, so it’ll have to do. How about it?”

Little by little, Cal’s guarded expression melted into a small smile. “Thank you, Rolan. It… it hasn’t been easy for her, lately. A distraction could do her some good — both of us, really.”

Relatable. “Don’t mention it. We should probably follow, then — she seems like she might bring the entire shack down around our heads if we don’t.”

“You have no idea.” Cal rolled his eyes and grinned, and, despite everything, Rolan found himself smiling back at him.

Side by side, they turned to head inside — and it wasn’t long until, for the first time in years, laughter could be heard from the little shack in the corner of the garden.

[karoochui]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sun (Five Nights at Freddy's)/Reader, Moon (Five Nights at Freddy's)/Reader, Daycare Attendant (Five Nights at Freddy's)/Reader Characters: Sun (Five Nights at Freddy's), Moon (Five Nights at Freddy's) Additional Tags: First ever work posted lets fuckin go, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, hoe you are smitten, No use of y/n, Potty Mouth Reader, playful bickering, kisses mwah mwah, not cannon to my au/just a stand alone, there's references but that's it, Reader-Insert, Insults as a Love Language, One Shot, Sun and Moon are the Same Animatronic (Five Nights At Freddy's), gender neutral reader, post fire au Summary:

Years after the fire that destroyed everything, you've regained a sense of normality in your life with Sun and Moon in tow, comfortably living with you in your apartment. Everything is great, perfect, just the way it should be.

So what do you do, then, when platonic "I love you"'s and common affection aren't enough to satiate your longing desire for more? What do you do when you can't stop yourself? Are you truly willing to risk your idyllic life with them over a heart that can't put one foot in front of the other without falling?

It might be easier than you think.

[zer0pm]

Imagine having dated Luis Serra in the past only to be reunited with him literally chained to you.

“Another late night?”

A sigh. “Sí. Wesker wants another update on the new medicine my team is developing.”

“Didn’t you just send him a report about it this morning?”

“My thoughts exactly. But people like him, they’ll push because they can and keeping pushing until they get what they want.”

“Sounds familiar.”

The man stops typing away for a moment to turn and wink at you. “You like it when I push.”

You chuckle lightly in turn and pull up a seat next to Luis. The researcher welcomes you at his side, instinctively placing his hand upon your knee as soon as you settled onto the chair. His fingers dance upon the fabric of your pants, caressing the warm skin beneath while his other hand returns to the keyboard.

There is a tired expression upon his handsome face as he focuses back on the computer screen, but the tugged up smirk on his lips and the relaxed gleam in his beautiful grey eyes that appeared in the wake of your presence of you was unmistakable.

“It’s going to be awhile,” he says, a soft lull in his voice. “You should go home and get some sleep, mi corazon.”

You shake your head, returning him a gentle smile of your own. “I’ll wait, Luis. I don’t mind.”

“Can’t rest unless we’re in bed together?”, he says with a wag of his brows.

You quip back playfully, “We wouldn’t even rest if we’re in bed together.”

The Spaniard hums thoughtfully. “That’s a tempting thought. I better hurry up, then.” He leans his head against yours. “Pero, seriously. I don’t want to make you wait.”

A comforting hand reaches over to affectionately squeeze his muscles arm, “It’s fine. Stop worrying. As long as I’m with you, Luis, I’m happy.”

You feel him nod. The growing hairs along his fine jaw, softly scratching against your head. “Yo tambien. What is the expression, we’re… attached to the hip?”

“Practically chained together you and I.”

“Keep distracting me with ideas like that and we’ll never leave this place.”

—-

A deafening ring scratches against your ear drums, a dim light shines a dull pain in your eyes, and rusted metal scratches against your wrists. All these sensations awoke you gradually, a slow rude awakening. You’ve barely a moment to gather your wits and take in your surroundings before a familiar voice catches your attention.

“¿Estás bien? Are you hurt?”

It’s Luis, he sounded slightly disgruntled, but it did little to hide his evident concern for you.

You instinctively shake your head. “No. No, I think I’m okay. You?”

“Could be worse. Better than being in a musty burlap sack. And this time, I am in the presence of good company.”

Always the charmer. Some people just do not change, and when it came to Luis, that thought puts you at ease.

The last thing you remembered before coming to was finding Luis tied up in some basement. Leon was there, and another man, large and imposing, who approached the three of you unannounced. There were gunshots, and you recall a massive fist connecting with your head. That’s gonna bruise…

You look overhead to see your wrists clapped in irons and a pair of strong arms dangling alongside yours.

“Guess we ended up chained together, afterall.”

You feel Luis’ back slightly shaking against yours, a low chuckle rumbling from his throat. “I admit, this isn’t how I imagined it to be like either.” After a slight pauses, he sighs and calls you by name. “Pleasant talk aside, not that I’m not happy to see you again because… admittedly… I am- But what are you even doing here?”

You shrug. “Oh, you know. The views.”

The Spaniard scoffs. “Falsa. You’re a terrible liar. Always have been.”

Again, you deflect. “And what about you, Luis? This doesn’t exactly look like a cozy spot for a vacation.”

“I live here. Within the village. The house you found me under? Casa de mi infancia. My childhood home. It was, anyways, before…”

He paused. For a moment that felt like an eternity, he said nothing. It unsettled you.

“…Luis?”

He shifts a little behind you at your voice before a what sounded like a defeated sigh escapes his lips. “Joder. I was conducting research,” the man began. “After leaving Umbrella, I came back here to treat the villagers from a disease that has plagued them for a long time. Back then, it was bad. But now, it is much, much worse than when I left many years ago. I tried to help, but as you can see, I’ve had little success.”

Now it was your turn to fall silent. That was a lot to take in. After separating from Luis all those years ago, you continued to keep tabs on him. You made the excuse that you were simply monitoring his movements in case you were able to gather more information about Umbrella, but really, you just wanted to make sure he was okay. The last time you two spoke… it did not go well. And when he went off the radar, you thought the worst but never gave up searching. To say you were relieved to see him again and learn that he still practiced medicine for the benefit of others was an understatement. You feared that he may have gone off the deep end and we’re glad that you were wrong.

Luis speaks up when you said nothing. “Suppose it’s a good thing that you didn’t come here with me, after all.”

You pondered over what to say. There was plenty. You wanted to tell him that you missed him. That you thought about him every day. That you ended things between you two for his sake. But they all failed to reach your throat. Instead, you opt for a different truth. One that he deserves.

“I work for the government.”

When he doesn’t speak right away, you mentally prepared yourself for his anger and disappointment. You expected him to fly off in a rage and curse you a thousand times over, reproaching you for failing to come to him with this from the beginning. You expected him to question if your time together, if your feelings shared were genuine, and you were prepared to confirm that you and him were real. Instead, as often as Luis does, he surprises you.

“I know.”

You blink, your words faltering for a second. “Y-You know? What do you mean ‘you know?’ When- How-”

“After you left me. I did a little digging- on my own… and I learned some things.” He shifts to his feet and you followed suit, meeting his eyes. Despite their cold hue, his words came out warmly. You detect a hint of anxiousness from him. “I know why you did what you did, mi amor. Just wished you would have told me.”

Your heart flutters unmistakably from his term of endearment for you. You had to force your eyes down so as not to have your emotions betrayed to him even though it was already pointless at this point.

“I couldn’t…”

“I know.” Those little words again. “Still would have been nice to hear them, anyway. Well, perhaps not “nice”- Pero, it would have been ideal to try to work it out together.”

“Would you have wanted to at that point?” The question left you before you could bite it back.

Luis’ eyes sparkled at the almost hopeful tone in your voice. “With you, I want to do everything.”

This man is too good to be real. You wanted to hug him then and there, to pour out every apology known to man, to beg his forgiveness and declare your love for him. But the chains around your hands and the fear of rejection prevented you from doing so. However, the way Luis looked at you told you everything you needed to know, told you everything he felt and still feels for you, and you only hoped that your eyes said the same. Still, being one that wishes to validate their intentions, you opened your mouth.

Luis stops you. “Shh! You hear that?”

You focus your senses, trying to identify what he’s talking about. And sure enough, the distinct sound of garbled, inhuman groans reaches both of your ears. Your fists clench and your body tenses instinctively. This time, not of fear, but in disciplined alarm, ready to face any threat that dared to come your way. Luis picks up your stance instantly, a flash of amusement and admiration in his grey gaze.

“Now, despite my impressive physique, I’m actually not much of a fighter. So, would you…?”

You switch places with him before he could even finish his sentence, minding the chain that connected you both. The tall man reflexively shivers beneath your touch and as you left a hand lingering upon chest in a protective manner, he didn’t move away.

“Stay behind me and keep your distance.” You ordered sternly before throwing him a side glance, “And by the way, this discussion is far from over.”

“Muy bien. You got this.”

His tone was meant to be casual, but there was no denying the hint of admiration (and daresay lust) that rumbled within his thick throat. This was a side of you he has never seen. And although he can deduce that it comes from years of discipline and training; deep down, he knew your instinct to protect him comes from something much baser and more powerful. He knows, because he’s ready to protect you to despite his suggestion otherwise.

There was so much that needed to be said between you two. But that would have to wait until you were both safe. And without interruption.

“Just another long night, ¿si?”

As long as I’m with you, Luis, I’m happy.

You didn’t say it out loud. But he heard them all the same.

.

.

.

A/N: A continuation of Him.

Gif is also not mine, please support the original poster :3

[evilfloralfoolery]

Along Came Fire - Avery/Blair, Pt. 2

A lot more snz and misery in this lol. Avery showing her true colors. Blair being unbearably into it. Both of them wondering about the other. Plz enjoy my hasty edit! :)

_____________________________

By the time the heaters in the stadium get the memo, the set is over and Blair has had just about enough of this frigid bullshit.  

He’d managed to fend off whatever fuckery his sinuses were concocting during the performance, but now, it’s gotten to the point where no amount of shallow breathing and nose rubbing will do the trick. His body has just had enough of him.

And the feeling is fucking mutual. 

Blair cringes against his knuckled fingers with a flash of teeth. "HhhRISSCH! –RIIHHHSSCHuh! EKTSSCH! UhhhCHHSSSH!" He pauses, breath a hitching, ragged heave. "Hhh–RIISSSCCHHiiiuuhh!"

"What, you're not going to try for an even six?”

He stops with the miserable, wet sniffling and glances over his shoulder.

It's her. Just standing there with a laminate around her neck, like she belongs there. No idea where she’d gotten the pass, but he’s not going to ask questions, especially not with the way she’s looking at him right now.  Kind of like how the Blond Wonder looked at him, but with a more curious sort of concern rather than outright, overly empathetic gawking.

Hard not to stare back at that mane of hers with all the red, orange, and yellow competing for space, a vibrant cascade of fire that has the nerve to call itself “hair.”

“Hey.”  She waves a hand in front of his face with a bit of a laugh. “Are you okay in there?”

He offers her a slow blink in tandem with the realization that he has said nothing to indicate an answer.

“I am,” he says.  “Just too damn cold.” One eyebrow arches high.  “Are you?”

She tilts her head. “Cold?” 

“Okay,” he clarifies. 

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine.” She combs her hair away from her face with one hand and laughs. "I’m pretty sure I left puncture wounds on that idiot, so there’s that."

Probably.  He hadn't missed how aggressive she'd been. Kind of a firecracker for such a slender chick.

Hot.

"Yeah, well. Guys are assholes." He offers her a smirk.  "But I'm a bigger asshole." 

"Good quality, if you ask me." Her smile is a sly mirror of his own.

“Damn straight.”  He tugs at the knot on his bandana out of habit.  “Avery, right?” 

“Yep.” She pokes him in the chest with one finger.  “You didn’t tell me you were the bass player.”

Cue the smartass eyebrow arch. “You didn’t ask.”

“I don't usually introduce myself and then be like, ‘so, do you play the bass?’ ”

“Why not. Good conversation starter.” 

She flicks a piece of his hair with a pop of her fingers. “You're weird.”

He’ll take that.

But what he’s not going to take is any more shit from his sinuses.  Sort of.  Goddamn it.

She does the curious, cocked head thing again at his abrupt change of energy and asks the obvious question.  “Something wrong?”

“Nothing. It’ssss uuhhh-hhhheh!” He holds up a hand to politely silence furthering questioning, breath catching in his throat with a choppy attempt to draw in enough air. "Heeh-hh. . . Hh'RISSSCHU! Hkg–CHISSSHUHH! Fuck."  He rubs at his nose with a sniffle. "Hhngh, sorry. The cold fucks me up."

"I can tell," she says as he sneezes again with twice the force and less control. 

Goddamn it. 

"God bless," she says in this voice that's somewhere between concerned and a bit. . . something else. 

Interesting . . . 

"Stick around and you'll get sick of saying that real fast," he says. 

She laughs, but doesn't refute him. She does, however, close the distance between them unexpectedly.  "Hold on." A hand reaches up to adjust the apparently lopsided bandana tied around his head. "You're about to sneeze this off." 

"Heh, thanks."  He fiddles with the knot on the thing and tightens it. "Wouldn't be the first time." He regards her with a slow, assessing tilt of his head.  “Feel like sticking around?”

Her eyes are the lightest shade of honey gold he’s ever seen.  And to think she asked him about contacts.

“Sure,” she says. “You might need someone to fix that bandana again.”  A faint hint of super white and slightly pointed teeth peek from behind her lips,  which is so absurdly attractive to him, he shoves a hand in his pocket to keep it to himself. 

But that still leaves him with one.  Which he holds out to her.

It only takes her a second to decide to fork over her fingers, which slide into the width of his palm like something delicate and precious.  Compared to Blair, most people are on the smaller side, but while Avery is tall, she's particularly slender of frame, a fact that is emphasized by the tight black pants and matching bodysuit with strategically placed fabric slashes she’d chosen for the gig. It highlighted the fuck out of her multi-colored hair.  Like autumn leaves in a jeweled pit fire. 

“Hungry?” he asks as he leads her down the rowdy expanse of the corridor where musicians and techs alike are loudly congratulating themselves over the success of the show.

“I could eat something,” she says.

So could he. 

______________________________________

The booth is a semicircle, not one of those across the table deals. And she sits close to him, so close that her leg presses against his thigh. 

He's not sure what he's done to elicit that kind of contact, but he wants more. So, he does the cheesy movie thing and drapes an arm across her shoulders, casually at first, but when she willingly curls closer against his side, he ups his game with an upper arm squeeze. 

Damn, she smells good. Like spring rain and oleander. 

"Are you still cold?"

He nuzzles her thick hair. "Not as much." 

Mainly because she's a fucking furnace, like a personal space heater. No complaints from him. 

Well, except for the goddamn prickling the "defrost" is causing in his sinuses. No, dammit. He's not unwinding his arm from her lithe body. 

He unrolls the napkin-wrapped silverware and snaps the thing open, but doesn't quite make it. 

"HhhRISSCH! ISSCCHUH!"  His lip curls away from his teeth in a snarl of irritation and he clamps the napkin over his mouth and nose. "AahhRISSCHuh! IKGSSSH-U!"  He sniffles and dabs at his nose with a hint of a smirk. "Hnnnh, sorry I'm so goddamn sexy." 

She laughs in a high, almost tittering way that is reminiscent of something he can't quite place, but he likes it. 

"I think I can handle you." She hooks a piece of his hair that escaped his bandana behind one ear. "God bless." 

Her breath tickles his ear and coaxes the hair on his arms to stark attention. 

"Hmn, thanks." His voice drops to a lower, darker version of itself. "You want a steak?"

"Sure," she says. "Purrs" is a better word. "I like meat." 

The way she says that is hotter than it has any right to be.

"Yeah?" He rubs at his nose with the back of his hand. "How do you like your meat?"

Her lips brush the line of his jaw with scantist touch. "Extra rare." 

Okay, fuck it. 

He shifts his body just enough to slide a hand into her hair and leans in close, pausing just shy of capturing that mischievous mouth of hers. Makes her wait for it. Teases her with a faint exchange of breath.  But when the tip of her tongue darts out to just barely flick his lower lip, he’s over it.  

And damn, can she kiss.  It’s electricity and fire, the slow, smoldering promise of something far more urgent, but deftly restrained. His body finally gets the message and switches on the heat until his skin is feverishly hot.  Sharp nails dig into his shoulders just enough to make temporary, pointed crescents in the flesh and he sits back against the vinyl seat as the kiss recedes, the faintest wisp of smoke curling from his lips. 

“Goddamn.” His eyes flutter shut for a moment and he exhales a breath from the depths of his chest, as if he’d been holding it for hours. 

Nails drag down his forearm in a light, affectionate scratch.  “Been a while?”

“Oh yeah,” he says.

A long fucking while. 

__________________________________________________________

The seated dinner had turned into “fuck an hour wait, room service is better” and man, had he made the right choice.  

The idiots in the kitchen had forgotten the steak knives and rather than ask some underpaid kid to go seventeen floors down to get a couple, Blair and his “date” had opted for the more barbaric option. 

Just pick the shit up and eat it. 

Now, watching Avery snack on that rare slab of meat was hotter than any porno could ever be.  There is something primal about the way she takes small, but efficient bites of the steak, the way she sort of tears off a chunk and licks her fingers afterwards.  And when he doesn't eat the entirety of his own steak, she finishes it for him. 

Where the hell had she put it all?  The woman is a slender wisp of a person.

If that’s what she actually is. 

It's the same thing with Caspian.  A flash of something wild. That “otherness.”  He’s seen it before. Plenty of times. 

“I don’t usually do this, you know,” she is saying as she licks the last of the blood and juices from between her fingers. 

“And what’s that?”

She flashes him her super pearly whites.  “Eat meat with strange men.” 

He chuckles and it morphs into a bit of a cough, reminding him that the surge of heat between them earlier hadn’t been enough of a catalyst to jumpstart his body into actually doing anything about his damn "illness."

Her expression morphs from playful to concerned and she sets the plate on the nightstand.  “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”  He wipes at the edges of his nose with a clean napkin and winces.  “Still too goddamn cold, I guess.”  

That fucking nose ring.  Not like he could just take the bastard out without some pliers.  Special ones. 

Avery moves closer, but he holds up a hand to stop her progress, his breath hitching in ragged, uneven catches.  

“Hhheh—!  RISSSCCH–UHH! ISSCCHHU!  Mother. Fucker.”  He growls to himself and drops the napkin in favor of the box of tissues that she’s now offering him.  

Fuck it, he’s taking the whole box.  

“Thanks,” he says in a tone that is way more grumbling grouchiness than he means it to be.  

But she’s obviously not put off by that because she’s suddenly right beside him, her hand on his thigh, even though he’s gross as hell whilst taking care of his dripping sinuses. 

“Sorry,” he says with a sigh.  “Was hoping this shit would just let up or fuck off.” 

“Stop apologizing.”  She rolls her eyes a little and he’s reminded of the same exasperation Caspian uses for Miami, which is more than a touch amusing. “I’m not worried about your cold or whatever it is.”  She tosses all of that flaming hair over one shoulder.  “I like a guy that can be a hot mess and own it.” 

Blair laughs.  “Jackpot, then.” 

“You can lie down, you know.”  She pats the top of his free hand.  “It won’t hurt my feelings if you’re tired.” 

After tossing the tissues into the trash, he slips her fingers into his palm and scratches his thumbnails over her knuckle.  “Mmn, I’m not that tired.” 

She leans in for a kiss and he affords her the opportunity with eager reception. Doesn't stop her when she presses herself against him again.  In fact, he pretty much pulls her into his lap and she’s happy to be there, given the way she’s kicked off her boots and settled in.

“I’m not contagious,” he says.  

Her hands slide over his chest and clutch the fabric of his shirt.  “Wouldn’t care if you were.” 

“Want me to take this off?” He tugs at the edge of his shirt.

“No,” she says.  “I want to take it off.” 

If his eyebrow arched any higher, it would disappear into his hairline.  “Okay.”  He leans back against the bed frame and lets go of her hips.  “All yours.” 

(TBC...)

[cc1010fox]

Cody: What are you doing here, Fox? You can't be here. Look, I understand duty, but Rex will-- Fox: No, you have to let me through...Fives...Fives! Rex: Get him out of here! Cody: Fox-- Fox: No! I-I would never hurt him...Rex, I would never hurt him! Tell me he's ok! Tell me you were able to-- Rex: He's dead, Fox! Because of you! Get out of here! Fox: Dead? No...Fives...We met at 79's...He literally charmed the pants off of me. I fell for him, Rex. Hard. Rex: Why are you telling me this? Fox: Because I didn't pull the trigger...Something forced me to...I would have never hurt Fives...I loved him... Rex: What do you mean something forced you to? Fox: I mean I felt something take hold of me and use me to kill Fives...If you help me, we can figure out what it was. I'll do anything to avenge him, Rex.

[hrodvitnon]

ACHTUNG. ACHTUNG.

My first spicy SIGNALIS fic be upon ye!

[infamous-if]

DONT CUT IT IN HALF!!!!

I'll try not to lololol

[effelants]

Deeply, Deeply Weird (read it now on AO3!)

The drow — or “Vrai,” as they were calling her now, apparently — was… strange. No, she was more than strange, she was weird. That was the only thing Astarion could say about her with full confidence.  Not that he had anything even approaching ‘normal’ to compare her to at present — the peculiar assortment of clowns and weirdos inhabiting their campsite was beyond even his powers of description. But even now, those clowns and weirdos were spread out across the campsite, engaging in the most regular of evening activities: Shadowheart was reading a book, ignoring all the rest of them — good for her — and Lae’zel was sharpening her knives, throwing menacing glances every which way, though taking special care to level them at Shadowheart more often than not. Perhaps they’d finally come to blows before the evening was out… or perhaps not. Wyll and Gale were still here, after all, and they’d never stand by idly and watch, even distracted as they were by their conversation with the new tiefling woman.  A pity — but not his greatest concern at present, because even such a cursory glance over the campsite truly cast into sharp relief just how little he understood Vrai. There she sat, on the ground, off to the side, all by herself: not moving, not watching, not speaking, simply staring into the middle distance, face entirely impassive, as she did for hours and hours every evening. He was a good judge of character, of course — but what was he left with when there was seemingly no character there to judge? Whenever not actively engaged, she simply… shut down. There was no other way to describe it: there didn’t seem to be anything going on behind those intense scarlet eyes of hers unless someone else went out of their way to put it there. Oh, other than the violence — couldn’t forget that tasty little tidbit. The elegant, glorious, terrifying, effective violence that spilled out of her at the slightest provocation. Yes; Vrai was deeply, deeply weird — but it was a weirdness one could spin to their advantage, if one were so inclined. And how could anyone not be, when they had seen what she was capable of when unleashed? All that was left was to ensure that her leash was held by the right hand — his — and that should be as easy as breathing. After all, he’d said it himself: there was nothing going on behind her eyes unless someone else put it there… and here he was, the master of ensuring others thought of him, and him alone. A match designed by the gods themselves — or it could have been, had he not known full well how little the gods cared for him. No, it was mere happenstance that such a gift had fallen straight into his lap, but that was no excuse to squander the opportunity. Especially not now that he was so well on his way, her freely given blood still singing in his veins.  He still didn’t know why she’d allowed that — why she’d lain there, still and silent, letting him take what he’d wanted without anything more than a sharp intake of breath. Why, when he’d overindulged, she hadn’t even seemed to care; she’d simply taken a health potion and continued about her day, as if she hadn’t been brought to the very brink of death. What he did know, however, was that he would have her blood again — and, with it, he would take her allegiance.

read more

[cruulsummer]

Jaded

ao3 ffn

Words: 4k

"It wasn’t like he was asking her to grind on him at the center of the dance floor for God and everyone to watch. He didn’t need a grand declaration of love or an extravagant gesture. All Gar had wanted was some acknowledgement of the relationship.

Shit, he was so jaded."

Gar could tell from the creeping dim of the lights and the steady surge of music that the party was about to pick up.

Across the room, Starfire gasped as she recognized the tune. It took the alien all of one moment to push out of her chair, grabbing her boyfriend by the arm with an urgent giggle. Though the boy wonder shook his head fondly, he allowed himself to be dragged to the middle of the dance floor.

Robin was calmer these days: far less prone to obsessive weekends locked away in an evidence room. The friends could say that he'd simply mellowed with age, but everyone knew that truly, credit was due to the smiley girl whom he now twirled around on the floor.

Starfire had knocked the Bat right out of her boyfriend. It was an obvious conclusion that Beast Boy drew as he appraised the scene from the side. The shapeshifter watched his leader giggling like a fool amidst the throng of people. The Tameranean laced her fingers with Robin's as they bobbed in time with the beat. Alone in the crowd, the couple danced together, singing along to the melody without a care.

Normally, Gar might have found the display endearing, cute even, but presently, the sight brought on a wave of nausea. His eyes scanned the room for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

Of course, nothing was different, and he once again tried to remind himself that it wasn't a big deal. The admonishment did nothing to abate the sinking sensation in his chest.

Gar groaned. Dragging a hand down his face, the shifter took a swig of his drink. He swallowed hard, releasing a deep sigh from the pit of his stomach.

She isn't coming.

His dejection was cut short by the subtle awareness of expectant eyes.

Blinking back to reality, Gar swiveled to face the droid next to him. The anticipatory look on Cyborg's face told him that he had just been addressed.

"Huh?" Was all he could offer in response.

Cyborg, seemingly unbothered by the space out, probably assumed that his friend simply hadn't heard him over the din. Leaning closer to the changeling, he repeated his sly observation with an ever-present smirk.

"I said, do you see those two?" Cyborg chuckled, waving a bionic arm over to the floor.

Gar followed the gesture with his eyes, landing back on the very couple that had first sent him spiraling.

Well, he wouldn't call the dancing "cute" anymore, that was for sure.

Forgone was the sweet swaying from earlier in the night. Now, Starfire pressed her back flush against her boyfriend's front. No longer foolish, Robin's arms wrapped her in closer. Those smirking lips danced delicately over the open crook of her neck. She tilted into him, one lithe hand winding up behind her head to run fingers through his dark tresses. His pendulating hips rocked forward. She met each teasing thrust with a push of her own.

And though the open seduction should have disgusted Beast Boy, at this point he was becoming desensitized to their knack for exhibition. Still, the sight invited that sickness again.

"Ain't no way!" Cyborg convulsed with a snickering laugh. Reclining, he whistled low. "Man, they are gone. "

Despite the hole forming in his chest, Beast Boy laughed weakly.

"Haha, yeah… " His tired eyes drifted along with the false vivacity.

Cyborg expected that. For Beast Boy to laugh along at the display. For him to poke fun and jibe at their friends losing themselves for all to see. So that's what Beast Boy did.

Truthfully, though, the shifter couldn't feel anything but envious.

Starfire and Robin moved against each other without qualms. They were utterly open and honest. Exposed and unconcerned. Lonely together in this – their own pocket of the universe. Neither caring who in this host of people might have a camera. Whose wandering eyes might splay across their scene of affection.

Of that vulnerability, Gar couldn't help his monstrous jealousy.

It was almost as if they were taunting him, nestled together out there.

It was almost like they were saying, "We can have this. You can't."

"Heard from Rave at all?"

Again, his robotic buddy broke the spell. This time, his inquiry hit Gar like a swift kick to the gut. It wasn't Cyborg's fault. The green man was confident his brother had meant the question in earnest. All the same, he nearly cringed when he answered.

"Nah, Dude." Gar shrugged, hoping he looked less pathetic than he felt. Glumly, the shifter stared down the glass tunnel in his grasp.

"I don't really think she's gonna show tonight..."

She's avoiding me.

Fuck. It was his own fault too. Hey, what else was new?

Cyborg detected tension in those words. On one hand he wanted to let it go, to stay out of his friends' love lives. On the other, he was overcome by the incessant brotherly urge to ensure his pal's wellbeing. His latter will won out.

The robot chuckled, albeit uncomfortably, attempting to acquire answers without prying.

"Oh man, trouble in paradise, huh?"

It just so happened that that was the most unhelpful phrase the robot could have said to his despairing companion.

The comment churred around in Gar's head.

Yeah, something like that.

Beast Boy huffed. Unable to even look up, he pretended to be acutely interested in the swirls of golden liquid at the bottom of his cup. Another melancholy shrug served as his only answer.

Ok, not quite the admission Cyborg had been hoping for. The changeling said too little to meddle. Too much to leave it be.

The bion's expression was suddenly sodden with sympathy. Gar felt a metallic hand grazing his shoulder.

"Hey, man. Do you want to talk about—"

Cyborg's comfort was suspended as a new Titan smacked him on the back. He whipped around to behold the offender, who was immediately pulled in a different direction.

Cyborg lit up. "Bee!" He stood, ready to follow her. "Hold up, girl, I gotta see you!"

The hero shouted back to him as she disappeared further into the crowd. Cyborg pushed through, though not before squeezing his brother's shoulder.

"I'll be right back, don't move." He dictated, being swallowed by the horde as he spoke. "Hold on, Lady! I'm coming!"

And just like that, Gar was alone again.

He was a man cursed – confined by the company of his own mind. Without Cyborg, there was no distraction from the sore memories of the morning.

He spared another glance towards the hallway, hoping against hope that his girlfriend might be there. That in his moment of despair she would come walking in to find him. But, of course, his girlfriend wasn't at the entrance. And now, he was starting to wonder if he could even call her his girlfriend anymore.

Green hands balled at his eyes, willing the tears away.

This was all his fucking fault.

Why couldn't he ever play it cool? He was eager—embarrassingly so. And no matter how hard he tried to feign nonchalance, that damn pulsating organ on his cuff always gave him away.

It wasn't fair. Sure, he'd envisioned the night ending like this. Years of Mento's harsh training had ensured his psyche went for the worst case scenario in any situation. Still, he'd held onto that sliver of hope as long as he could. He'd thought maybe, for once in his life, he could have what he wanted.

And fuck, why shouldn't he? It wasn't like he was asking her to grind on him at the center of the dance floor for God and everyone to watch. He didn't need a grand declaration of love or an extravagant gesture. All Gar had wanted was some acknowledgement of the relationship.

Shit, he was so jaded.

Visions of the morning came flooding to the forefront of his mind.

"I think I'll wear this one."

Raven held up the black dress to show her boyfriend. The green man looked up from his comic book, smiling genuinely as he straightened on his bed.

"I like it."

And he did. It was simple, yet elegant. One of the more worn dresses she owned, but assured to make his knees a little weak. She tended to have that effect on him in any outfit.

"Thanks." Raven reached for the hanger, sighing to herself. "As long as Starfire doesn't remember that I wore it to the last party, it should be perfect."

"I hope she doesn't, for your sake." Gar chuckled. He knew how exhausting the enchantress found shopping trips to be. But he also knew that his sister would not be too pleased by the deception.

Raven fixed the dress on the velvet hanger. A mirthful glint reached her eyes.

"She won't notice my dress when Robin has his hand up hers." She shot him a knowing look, rolling her eyes as she pivoted.

The insinuation was meant as a joke. He knew that. Nonetheless, a nervous bubble popped in his throat when she said it.

Ok, Gar, now or never.

Beast Boy snapped his comic shut, and shuffled off of the mattress. He stood to his feet, watching her as she hooked the hanger back onto the rack. Breathing deeply, he told himself that Raven would understand. She must have felt that things were getting more serious between them. He reminded that timid voice at the back of his head that, as he twiddled his thumbs, she was literally hanging her clothes up in his closet. Clearly, they were ready to unlock this new level to their relationship.

"You know," He swallowed, nervously fidgeting with his fingers.

She only hummed in response, too focused on her task to even look back. Her lack of attention somehow made it easier for Gar to speak. He forged on.

"You know, maybe you should get a new dress for tonight."

This time, Raven turned to face him. The shifter held his breath as his girlfriend eyed him in confusion.

"What?" Her brow furrowed. "You don't like this one?"

"No!"

No?!

That had come out wrong.

"No! No, I mean, not no no… like I mean… of course I like it! I-I LOVE it!" Gar sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, sputtering through a bout of awkward laughter.

"I love the dress, Babe, obviously. You look gorgeous in it! I mean, come on, why wouldn't I…"

Her questioning stare finally silenced his damned babbling.

"Heh…" Beast Boy exhaled. "Never mind, just forget I said anything."

Disappointment clouded his tone. The fog triggered Raven's insecurity.

"If you don't like it, it's fine, Gar."

"Ugh, that's not what I meant." The shifter grimaced mostly at himself. Drawing a breath, he started over.

"I just meant that, maybe, you might want to wear something new tonight." Certainly, his blush had climbed up his ears. "You know, in case people were maybe taking photos of us."

Raven pursed her lips, not understanding. "Gar, people always take photos of us. They see me in the same clothes all the time."

Green eyes admired a curious stain on the carpet. "Well, I don't know."

A lump lodged in his windpipe. He felt his chest expand faster.

"I just thought, maybe we could come to the party together."

The sorceress raised a brow. "Is Cyborg not driving us anymore?"

Gar shook his head gently. "No, he is."

Was she really going to make him say it?

Closing the distance between them, he took her hands in his own. That unwieldy voice was soft and smooth now.

"But, I was thinking that… we could come to the party together."

The intent of his words finally hit her. Amethyst eyes widened.

Oh.

He means "together."

Gar dispelled his panic as he gauged her face. Patiently, he waited for her response.

Raven felt her heart hammering in her chest. Silently, she stared at their linked fingers.

"Gar…”

He gulped. "Well?"

His shining eyes coaxed her closer. That gravity - the unknown force that pleaded for her to be swept up in those arms - was something to which she was still not used to yielding. He gave her a feeble smile that made her melt.

And for one moment, she wanted to say yes. Just as soon, she pulled herself away.

"Everyone would see us." She spun back to the closet quickly, acutely aware of her breathing.

Gar saw how she pretended to busy herself with the same four hangers. He pretended that that didn't crush him.

"Yeah… so?"

The enchantress exhaled to calm her sparking nerves. The dead air disquieted Gar to his core.

"I mean… All of our friends know about us." He said, sinking. "It wouldn't really change much if everyone else knew."

The other Titans of the household had been elated to hear about the relationship. Maybe it was a little strange at first, but everyone soon realized how the new couple completed things. Like the final piece of a puzzle, everything just fell into place.

A frail grin graced his lips. "Might even be able to go out without all the sneaking around."

And there was that too. The media was already suspicious. They would no doubt be found out soon anyway. Why not do the reveal on their own terms?

Every point made perfect sense, and Raven silently cursed his sudden astuteness. It often astounded her how naturally he could express affection. Especially publicly.

The idea that their clandestine dates might finally come to an end did appeal to her; the image of her and Gar blown up on every magazine in Jump City did not.

All of that was enough to keep her mind occupied as it was. But there was one more thing that made her chest burn:

The way that Gar wanted so badly for all the world to know that they belonged to each other. His imperative need to claim her – oh , it made her want to scream.

A snow globe on his dresser cracked, and she winced.

"I'm not ready, Beast Boy."

Beast Boy

Gar drooped. She always did this. Any time she was dealing with uncomfortable emotions, the wall went right back up.

"Why?" He sounded wounded.

Raven hugged herself instinctively. "You know why."

His mouth set into a firm line. His body stiffened.

"Actually, I don't, Rae." The remark came out with more bite than he'd intended.

She shrunk at his coldness.

"I don't understand why you don't want people to know about us." Gar scowled so he wouldn't whimper.

Raven gaped, before doubling down in defense.

"Well, I don't understand why you're being so pushy about this."

What cut Gar the deepest was the way in which she said it. She didn't sound angry or even indignant. She spoke with vacant eyes in an even tone. She spoke far too much like the Raven of the past. The one who hid in her room and glared at him like she actually hated him. And maybe being put back into that box is what sent him over the edge.

"Why are you being like this?" He stared at her with hardened eyes for a long moment.

When she refused to meet his gaze, he broke.

"Are you embarrassed of me?" He hadn't meant to say that part out loud. Gar was too aware of how pitiful he sounded now. Begging like a dog to be loved.

This shift in his tone struck her and she looked up. He was completely undone.

She felt like an ass.

"Gar…"

"Do you even want to be my girlfriend?"

Silence enveloped the room in the wake of those words.

I did not just say that.

"I'm sorry–"

"I have to meditate!" Raven blurted.

She was phasing through the floor before he could catch her.

No Titan saw her for the rest of the day. When evening came, he noted that the dress hung untouched in his closet.

When Starfire announced that the sorceress would not be joining them at the party, he knew it was all over.

Gar let his head fall to his hands. The blaring music shielded him in a cocoon of sadness.

He'd blown everything intensely out of proportion. And he'd most likely ruined the best part of his life.

Of course, she was embarrassed to be with him. Raven was insanely out of his league in every facet. He had no hope to match her intelligence, he pissed her off daily, and - the cherry on top of it all - he was fucking green.

She was embarrassed to be with him and he was embarrassed to be him.

What a guy. What a catch.

Ok, he needed a drink.

Gar lifted his head for a sip, but his jaw unfurled when he caught sight of the woman at the other end of the room.

He couldn't have prepared himself if he tried.

There in the hollow entryway, Raven stood bathed in the bright glow of the foyer. It was that aureole of light that allowed him to appreciate her full radiance. Gar sucked in a sharp breath, taking in that stunning view.

He drank in every detail of her. The dark, voluminous hair that feathered her shoulder blades. The sultry makeup that complemented her features just right.

Gar remembered how the enchantress rarely bothered with cosmetics or curlers. Often, she would show up to these events completely natural. Right now, she looked positively done up.

His mouth went dry. Captivated, he stood to his feet, needing to get a better look at the feature that transfixed him most.

That dress.

She wore an emerald slip dress. The fabric clung deliciously to every curve of her body. Slender, virescent straps glided down to a modest neckline. As she rotated to scan the room, he realized the attire was backless. Dipping down to expose her velvet skin, the silk pooled just south of the dimples in her back. He felt utterly teased by the thin barrier, dangerously close to exposing the round of her ass.

Delectable. Like lush a valley meandering down her rolling silhouette.

She was impossibly sexy. Admiring her now, he noticed something entirely familiar about that particular shade of green…

Holy.

Gar wanted to thank whatever universal force had a part to play in this. Wanted to know what it was that had somehow convinced her to get this dolled up.

She looked so damn good.

Violet eyes caught his gaze over the sea of people. She held contact, igniting a flurry of flame in his belly.

Something told him that Raven knew exactly how good she looked.

His legs grew a mind of their own. They carried his bumbling form across the floor as fast as possible. His wild eyes were useless, still stuck on that alluring hue. She waited for him, stepping slightly away from the haven of the hallway. Raven hoped that the dull thrum in her ears was only audible to herself. Azar, her hands just wouldn't stop shaking.

The shifter was going feral. As he approached, sneaking suspicions formed in his greedy mind. He thought he knew exactly what that color was. He intended to see if his intuition was correct.

Tracking her, Gar circled in. He moved slow, not sluggish, but deliberate.

Raven held her breath when he came in close. She'd expected him to react, but he practically leered over her. A warm expulsion of air tickled her right ear. She shuddered as those smoldering eyes wandered. Agonizingly, he memorized the shape of her body without touching her.

He decided right then and there that this was his favorite color she'd ever worn. Never had a pigment suited her so flawlessly. He wanted to see her in this shade, and only this shade for as long as he lived.

Finally, his sights resolved at the plunge of her midriff. Raven felt that fiery blush rising to her cheeks.

He knows.

Wordlessly, as if he'd read her mind, Gar lifted his sturdy hands to settle at the dip of her waist.

His lungs collapsed.

Green fingers disappeared against the jade fabric. The colors melded together, identical. Had it not been for the contours of his hand, the appendage would have been perfectly camouflaged. The way he blended into her, it was like she was wearing him all over her body. The implication was mouthwatering.

He could have keeled over right there.

Raven panted. Burning fingertips seared the exposed skin on her lower back. She clung desperately to his upper arms, holding on like she might tip over should she release him.

Within a flash of time, Gar realized two facts:

One: This shade of green was too well matched to his skin tone to be called a coincidence. She had done this with purpose. In fact, the dye was so similar to his complexion that he wondered for a moment if she'd used her magic to create the color. Another idea that made him tremble.

Two: The spider-silk gown was intricately delicate. His palms registered the supple warmth of her hip just beneath the fine layer. This dress was the final coating—the only barrier between his touch and her hot skin.

Ravennn…

A giddy feeling swirled in his abdomen. Emeralds flickered up to that orchid stare. Heavy eyelids hung low, cheeks doused in a husky hue. The look she gave him was full of intention. He crumbled, respiring all of his air.

" Oh, Rae…"

He was suddenly cognizant of how close they were to one another. A mere hairsbreadth lingered between them in this crowded room.

Fuck, people. He forgot about the people.

Gar started to pull back, but a milky arm snaking up his front reeled him back in. Raven gave the rabble a once over before sewing her eyes shut.

Without reservation, Raven dragged him down to her hot mouth. She kissed him fiercely. All of his doubts expired, smothered under her soft lips.

Gar eased into the kiss. The hands at her waist cinched possessively, drawing her flat against him. She caved to his touch, letting her legs fall limp.

Lost in the faraway moment, Raven was only faintly aware of the sound of a camera shuddering. What had unnerved the mage to her core just this morning, felt wholly natural in practice. Nothing broke. The world kept turning. With the hardest part out of the way, she relaxed into this budding endearment.

So what if they got their photo?

Gar was gone further still. The craving for her touch had mounted throughout the day. A mixture of lust and relief (and alcohol) hazed his vision.

Lips parted on the breakaway. Two chests heaving in tandem. Four eyes locked again.

Small palms held his face tenderly. Shyly.

"I really want to be your girlfriend."

Better late than never.

His forehead rested against her gem. A dopey smile blossomed on his tinged face.

"Well that's good," He might have been floating. "Because I really want to be your boyfriend."

Raven giggled at the disclosure and Gar had to follow suit. Nosing her gently, he glanced around the room.

"Think you can portal us home?" He said lowly.

"I thought you wanted us to go to the party?"

"I did." Chuckling, he leaned to whisper in her ear. "But now I want to get you out of this dress."

A shiver ran down her spine. Somewhere by the bar, a shot glass shattered.

Good thing neither of them noticed.

——————————————————————

Pookie is looking absolutely fire tonight.

[bloodanddiscoballs]

Oh! It’s semi-popular but SpyMedic? They’d be an absolute power couple. Unmatched. I also feel like they’d be the type to playfully light insults but it would clearly be flirting. Like, they’d be such divas together too

If you haven’t seen my MANY posts talking about me playing as Medic and constantly getting duped by handsome Spies who steal my heart because they thank me for the healing and then flirt with me the rest of the match, then you must know that I ABSOLUTELY ship these two. Kinda romantic to have someone who sees you as an easy target but is also incredibly squishy and can get his shit rocked equally hard by said target. Spy is suave and gives the impression he doesn’t like asking for help but beams at the attention especially with Medic keeping a watchful eye on his whole team’s health. He’ll overhead Spy out of the gate to make sure he has the best chance before slipping away cloaked. Often times the only way to make sure Spy doesn’t die is to shoot him with the crossbow across the map or to be up close and personal with the action to get him out of a pinch. For someone who has spent his career prior to joining the team fending for himself, it’s impossible not to swoon a bit at having Medic watch his back. It doesn’t hurt that Medic is easy on the eyes and incredibly smart as well; a glorious combo that Spy can’t help but be drawn in by. Medic finds the mystery around Spy addictively intriguing and can’t help but want to open him up (in more ways than one). He likes that Spy wants to impress but finds it much more endearing to have him care in ways that he frames as aloofness (Medic’s fav foods suddenly appearing on his desk, a coat draped over his sleeping form, making sure his tools are always where he can find them, etc). Medic makes use of the fact that Spy can speak German by flirting with him in it and grins at the pink that leaks out from under that mask of his. Their dates range from wineries and good food to chess by the fire to stealing illegal organs and medical research from locked down facilities. A couple for the ages!

[definitionsfading]

<puts tinfoil hat on> at this point my youtube algorithm just throws these videos at me, okay, but I was watching ANOTHER bullet train press interview and paused when I saw how similar Aaron and Brian’s necklaces look upon first sight despite being different colors of gold 

looking into it further, they both wore these pendants around the world during the press tour, on multiple occasions, relatively often. second photo above: here they are again in the same necklaces, different styling. 

at first I was Freaking Out because I was like there’s no fucking way they’re both wearing the saint christopher necklace, one in yellow gold and one in white gold. there is no way; I’d pass away on the spot. but it’s far easier to find super high-def photos of Aaron in this particular necklace, and if you look closely you can see the medallion is made up of two faces (presumably, his biological children?);

BUT THEN YOU LOOK AT BRIAN’S NECKLACE. and it’s hard to make out, I’ll give you that much, but it is...also a face. just one face, this time, in profile. 

I’m so intrigued by this. it could just be a coincidence and ATJ’s necklace is his kids, yeah, and Brian’s is like a stylized coin of some kind, yeah. but if anybody is able to find clearer photos of both I’d love to see them. jewelry and its sentimentality and meaning fascinates me at the base level and then you throw these two in the pot and I’m cooking

[pinkandgreenarepurpleandyellow]

@ all the other folks who are still/were ever in the EFF fandom, would y'all be ok with someone writing a fanfic based off of your fanart or au or doodles or hcs? With credit given, obvi

[anderstrevelyan]

WIP Game

Thanks so much for the tag, @say-lene! I've never done this one before, since until recently I've never had more than one WIP on the go at a time. Exciting. 👀

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! Tag as many people as you have WIPs.

All of my BG3 fic lives in one Scrivener file for the most part, and the ones in brackets are file names without actual working titles yet. But I've got:

Haunted One

(Viconia)

To Stet and To Spike

Night Orchids and Daggerroot

(Skie)

and then there's (dare I invoke it in public?) "hypothetical project"

tagging @effelants @sulky-valkyrie @dismalzelenka @milesmentis @my-dumb-obsessions @threeofswrds or anyone else who'd like to do this!

[hrodvitnon]

ACHTUNG. ACHTUNG.

...sesbian lex Sunday. :3

[smashstappen]

I absolutely despise people who write a sequel to a story only to ruin the first instalment with cheating between the main characters. Why do you feel the need to cheapen the love story with a disgusting sequel?

[effei-s]

[tserriednich & neon; foils]

"papa once said that the one who knows the future owns the world. let's put his theory to the test." 

"you want the eyes? i'll gift them all to you. after the voyage is over." just like papa, tserr wants not only a monopoly on her gift but a whole world, to squeeze it in the palm of his hand and crush it like an overripe fruit, make it bleed. 

"and the head? without it, my collection won't be complete." the things you do for the people you love. 

"if you dance." tserr nudges her. neon's entire life is one endless list of rental contracts; unique gift, a true blessing, priceless on paper, a long-fixed price-tag in reality. miracle for sale. 

"so that later you could justify a politically motivated murder with my name?" any long-term relationship, friendship especially, with someone like him is impossible without knowledge in art. it's nothing but a lucky coincidence for them both to be interested in a very niche type; private collections formed around humanity's cruel nature, devoted to the darkest corners of the human soul; events, large-scale or not, full of relics ready to be picked up; cold-blooded murders and hunger riots, revolutions and hundred-years-long wars, reformations and plagues, corpses embalmed so skillfully that they seemed alive, fragments of skeletons yellowed by time, all equally valuable, left for them to find and collect, to give the dead a second life.  

"i don't need justifications for murder." tserr is a fair decade older than her, has enough eloquence to convince even his own brother that his love for art is a reflection of his philanthropist nature, his humanity. the only worthy member of the royal family. a gabon viper hiding among the foliage. "still, just imagine your portrait by the caravaggios of our time." 

"i prefer the way dolci* saw her." neon has been playing poker since she was eleven; she's perfectly able to keep a neutral expression on her face, especially when she's face to face with someone capable of absolutely heinous doings, especially when she tells him no. 

"dolci it is then. i'll find you one. there's a reason why kakin is primarily known for advanced technologies and artists." intellectual revolution meets high renaissance, sprinkled with religious persecutions and organized crime. what a country. 

"i have a better offer: a head for a saved life. trust me, i'm a far better poet than a dancer." 

*Salome with the Head of St John the Baptist by Carlo Dolci