#gale helps and makes sure its not too embarrassing

[suitetarts]

bg3 origins - rock band

astarion: main vocals and face of the band. lives for the attention

lae'zel: absolutely shredding that lead guitar. insane actually. she could be in a much better band

karlach: rhythm guitar and vocals. has personal chats with the crowd in between songs

shadowheart: broody bass player that writes all the songs

wyll: hot drummer that gets all the biggest cheers

gale: keyboard and vibes. also manages the lights and pyrotechnics

[mashiraostail]

main party.....kink list??? orrrr wah

ya officer thats them thats the horny mf

I know there r some well accepted fanon ones sooo im gonna try to get funky with it for u all but if some of these r overdone i apologize im simple minded

Lae'zel: Sensory dep I think?? Going both ways but I think she really enjoys the trust you puts into her when you let her blindfold you. She also thinks of it as a sort of milestone, when she trust you enough to let things go the other way. Something about the surprise of it, the not knowing what's next heightens the experience for her. Seeing you keening, and trying desperately to find her touch even when you can't see her does wonders for her ego. She likes a power play too, she likes to hear you beg, she loves a little bit of groveling she can't help it. She especially enjoys the feeling of your hands scrambling against her back and shoulders as you desperately try to ground yourself again. She may or may not push you just bit past overstimulation. She can't put it into words, she likes having that control, she likes knowing she could do whatever she wants to you, and knowing she would never actually hurt you in a weird way reminds her how much she loves you.

Gale: Body worship!! Bro shoulda been a cleric he loooovvees to worship sm. He can't even help it and he may not be doing it on purpose either. When he sees you naked he's about ready to drop to his knees and start sobbing, how could somebody so near perfect see him as worthy company? He will kiss and lavish every inch of you all night, if you don't snap him out of it he honestly might forego sex entirely in favor of just doting on you. His hands will NEVER leave your bare skin, once it's exposed he will keep an incredibly curious, wandering hand on you at all times. He just loves every inch of you, and I do mean every inch; he will never turn his nose up at any part of you, he's content to kiss and massage you all night if that's what you want. He can't help getting sidetracked here and there either, he simply cannot promise that he won't be overcome with the desire to fuck into your thighs, or rut against your stomach and chest and he will indulge himself. He's Mr. Pussydrunk, he can't help it. Maybe he's a little pathetic, and he can admit that. There is not any kind of sex that is not centered on you, he just wants to look and kiss and touch and have all of you.

Karlach: She loves a little bit of a risky tryst, she never wants to actually get caught of course but the thought is thrilling alone. Quickies in the bathroom, around dark corners, down secluded alleys and so on. She likes the challenge of keeping you quiet and she loves to see you embarrassed. "Oh no, Karlach we shouldn't..." but you can't resist her and that's what she likes so much about it. Of course she likes seeing her hand over your mouth, watching your head loll around as you will yourself to be quiet; but at its core she loves knowing you just can't deny yourself, you want her just as badly was she wants you. When you have some more privacy she'll take her time with you, make sure you feel the same love that she does when you just can't help yourself. But there are times where nothing seems better than whisking you away, rendering you stupid, and then sending you on your way.

Wyll: He's such a good boy i know i know but I am so certain that he loves leaving some marks on his partner. He honestly feels a bit bad about it at first, and you'll have to put it him at ease about it, tell him you enjoy it, and you're okay if he is. He may have some slight jealous tendencies so knowing that possessiveness in general is enjoyed by you is a huge help to him. He will NOT go crazy with it, he'll always feel a little ashamed of it, but he can't help leaving one or two small love bites around the collar of your shirt, promise him you don't mind and he may been keen on more heavily marking obscured areas like your inner thighs or your stomach. He won't mind you returning the favor at all, a few scratches down his back, some bites on his collar, it's all good to him. He likes to know that he's yours just as much as he likes knowing you're his.

Shadowheart: Lowkey ofc but she's a threesome girl I just know she is. She loves a good threesome, sometimes she just likes to watch sometimes she just wants you to watch her and sometimes she likes all three of you together. She's not the jealous type, she's not insecure, and she loves seeing you embarrassed by all the attention and stupid with pleasure. She also loves a little bit of the princess treatment too (a lot). Doesn't have to be Halsin, but she'd be thrilled at the proposal of course. She doesn't have a preference for the breakdown, men or women, whatever else, it's all good to her and each has it's own unique perks. She likes getting to really take you in, to see everything about your body and your face and the noises you make without worrying about focusing on making you feel good, she likes being a backseat driver and she likes the look on your face when you watch her. It's certainly not an every time thing, she likes having you to herself too, but when the situation is right she'll rarely turn her nose up at a worthwhile proposition.

Halsin: He's a giver, just through and through man. Similar to Lae'zel he likes being in control, but in different ways. He loves the idea of you just being completely in need of him and totally unable to deny any of your desires. He loves to take care of you, and seeing how easily you surrender to him. You can beg, he'll love it, though he'll never ask you to. No, he'll never deny you, he'll be sure you get everything you ask for in due time, he just loves to unravel you, overstimulate you, and just enjoy your body. He loves crowding you into a corner, taking up all your senses and listening to you keen for him. He wants to see you fumble over yourself, blush, or look away from him, he loves to see how easily he can suck the air out of your lungs. He's been alive for a long time and he'd be an idiot to not know the effect he can have on people, or to not be able to tell when someone is interested. He'll lean into the attraction that already exists, lingering touches, fond nicknames, eye contact, general closeness and so on, he just likes to see you fall apart.

Astarion: true love Praise/dirty talk, maybe a little denial at times too but he'll never push you too far, he may seem sadistic but he can't hold out on you very long at all. He likes see how nervous he can make you just with the things he says alone. I think he may bite you during sex if you tell him you enjoy it but I don't think it would be a regular thing and after you really truly get together you'd have to give it time before bringing it up. Obviously he has to feed to on some kind of blood to stay alive and if sex can make it enjoyable for the parties involved he won't turn it down. He could bring you right to the cusp of an orgasm then bite down, partial curiosity partial cruelty. Would it deny you or would it push you over the edge? He'd be happy with either result. He's got a big head but it doesn't hurt to feed his ego, and a little praise can take him a loooonnngg way, before, after, or during sex.

[avonne-writes]

HS AU - First date headcanons

It's a movie date and they watch a sci-fi, then get something to eat at the mall.

Bucky spends the previous afternoon alternating between freaking out to his mom and buzzing with excitement, and he messes up his entire closet looking for the perfect set of clothes.

Gale spends his afternoon sitting by his window with his knees pulled up, listening to calming music and glancing at his phone every other minute to make sure Bucky didn’t text to cancel last minute.

Georgia tries to convince Bucky not to wear his sheepskin jacket, but Bucky claims it brings him good luck.

Gale is half an hour early to the place because he didn’t want to be late.

They're super awkward about greeting each other, unsure if they should hug or shake hands or something? It’s painful to watch and they kind of just wave at each other from ten feet away, then Bucky sticks his sweaty hands in his pockets and pulls up his shoulders, while Gale runs a hand through his hair, then crosses his arms.

Bucky can barely pay attention to the first half of the movie because all he keeps fretting about is when he should take Gale's hand and whether it's even a good idea. It doesn’t help that the movie isn’t romantic at all, and he’s like, should I reach out when the bad guys massacre a village or...?

But then, something in the middle gets Gale excited, and he leans over to whisper to Bucky about it, and he just casually puts his hand on Bucky’s arm in the process and leaves it there. When he feels Bucky's arm turn over under his touch, he slides his hand down to Bucky's.

They get fast food and milkshakes afterwards because they both have teenage boy appetites, and it's a bit tense at first because they're nervous, but Gale starts talking about the movie and once he gets into it, the ideas just keep coming, especially because it's a science movie, and Bucky just watches him with heart eyes.

They don’t wanna go home yet, so they go around the mall and go into all sorts of shops, and Bucky makes a fool of himself in all of them to make Gale laugh. Puts ridiculous accessories on himself and picks up weird objects. They get scolded in one of the clothing stores and have to leave red-faced.

They go into another one and wander to the back, where the scarves and hats are, and Bucky puts a pink hat on and a fur scarf. He starts playing around with the scarf and eventually, he throws its long ends around Gale's neck too.

He’s about to say something to continue flirting when Gale suddenly kisses him.

It almost misses his mouth, catching more of his chin than his lips, and there's some nose-squashing too, and Gale all but jumps away immediately, mortified

Bucky breaks into a laugh, overjoyed. He puts his palms on Gale's shoulders and leaves them there until Gale stops covering his flaming face, then he cups Gale's cheeks.

Bucky has plenty of experience kissing - he had several girlfriends, some of which had a specific agreement with him that it was only for kissing practice, so he feels pretty confident when he leans in for that second kiss. Except, Gale doesn’t open his lips to him because he wasn’t prepared for a French kiss mentally, so Bucky ends up giving a wet smooch to Gale's closed lips.

Now it's his turn to be embarrassed, and they cling to each other giggling and blushing, until they are, once again, asked to behave or leave the shop.

They're extremely awkward about saying goodbye too, especially because Georgia comes to pick Bucky up and Gale is like, "not in front of your mom!" But there’s a kiss on the cheek. They offer to take Gale home too but Gale lies about his mom picking him up later (he actually bikes all the way home).

Later that night, Bucky sends Gale a bunch of memes and tells him that they're gonna have to practice kissing and Gale texts back: "a lot..."

[angelatmidnight1]

I just started Baldur's Gate 3 and would love some ler! tword hesdcanons for Astarion if you're feeling inspired? I saw some of his lines on YouTube Shorts and he's literally the reason I'm now playing, Lord help me. 😭🤣 I'm super early game(like, just met him, Shadowheart and Gale) but I do know what species he is, and know a certain something he tries at camp at some point- 👀

I will definitely write a tword fic for him at some point because the need for him to wreck me is strong, but some headcanons to encourage me to keep going to see the story, as I adjust to the gameplay and how it works would be so appreciated! ❤️ Again, only if you feel inspired for it though, no pressure and I hope you're staying hydrated lovely! 😊

A/N: Sure! Astarion's the reason I bought the game too. I saw a few clips of him on TikTok and added the game to cart 😅 I have a reader/Astarion fic somewhere in my drafts, but please tag me whenever you create yours. I'd love to see :D

Anyways, here's ler!Astarion. I hope I captured his personality okay. I'll add a tiny warning that this may come off a tad spicy, cause it's Astarion haha, but it isn't NSFW.

Ler!Astarion Tickle Headcanons

“Darling, you’re ticklish? Aha, how adorable.”

Astarion’s had a couple centuries to practice the art of gentle, and sometimes ticklish, touches. Of course he takes up the opportunity to work his craft. 

He’ll say the sweetest things to beckon his lee closer, with fleeting touches along sides and hips. “Come here, my dear. I promise I’ll be as gentle as a babe. Just a bit closer, hm?”

More words, sweet as honey, until he has his lee pinned under him. No matter the position, he wants physical contact the whole time. “Mm, I always did enjoy how you looked beneath me.”

He loves it when his lees become shy and flustered. It encourages his flirtatious antics even more. But, if they don’t? That’s okay. He loves a good challenge. 

Astarion’s touch is deliberate, but light and teasy. He takes his time to find the spots that make his lee squeal, and claws over it with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “My, you are a sensitive little thing, aren’t you?”

Eye contact is huge with Astarion; he drinks in his lees’ every reaction to his tickles. Every little giggle, gasp, squeak. His lee has never looked more beautiful, and he’s sure to tell them just that.

Speaking of drinking, it’s too tempting not to think about all of the blood pumping through his lee’s veins while he tickles them. He won’t drink without permission, but that doesn’t mean he can’t indulge in other ways.

“I could eat you right up, darling. And you know what? I think I will..” 

Astarion knows how to use his fangs with just enough pressure to tickle, and if he’s especially close with his lee, nowhere is safe from his nibbles. 

His favorite place to nibble are necks, but he’s also fond of ribs, hips, and thighs. He’ll love if his lee is especially sensitive to his light biting. “Gods, you are delectable. And those precious little giggles of yours just make you all the more sweeter.~” 

He could tease and tickle his lee all night, but if they truly need a break, he’ll ease off…just expect him to be a lil’ pouty. 

“Stop? Already? But, I was having so much fun. And I can tell that you were, too. Must we end our playtime so soon? …Oh, fine. Just promise I won’t have to wait too long before I can have you again.”

Of course, Astarion doesn’t always have to have an easy time with his lees. He loves it when they’re stern or, if anything, when they don’t want to admit how ticklish they are.

“Pft, if you’re not ticklish, then I’m not a vampire. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I find it rather cute. You can look a beast dead in its eye, so long as it doesn’t wiggle its claws at you, hah.”

He, like most, if not all vampires, loves a good hunt. He can and will pursue obstinate lees for fun. Having stealth on his side is a huge advantage. 

His fancy, airier voice turns growly when he’s on the hunt. And, those honeyed words become devilish taunts. 

“You might want to run faster, darling. I’m right behind you.~ Perhaps if you surrender, I’ll be merciful.” 

Astarion gets a huge ego boost if he manages to get a stubborn lee laughing. "My name sounds wonderful on your lips. But, I would love to hear a 'please'."

If he has to hunt his lee down, it'll be awhile before he lets them go. "You're all mine, tav. Laugh for me~."

[jakes3resin]

Time for some a/b/o Clegan/Buck x Bucky headcanons:

Buck's an Alpha and Bucky's an Omega (I have thoughts about the other boys too but for now Clegan)

Omegas can't serve if they're mated, so even though they want to Buck and Bucky can't mate until after the war.

Its a tradition that every newbie falls in love with Major Eagan just a little bit. He's sunshine in a cloudy country during a dark war. He's touchy, quick with a laugh, and his eyes stare out with such love for everyone that they can't help their crush. Bucky isn't the innocent beauty type who will blush if you flirt a little. He's bold and in your space. The replacements stammer and blush whenever they talk to him or even stare down at their feet unable to meet his pretty blue eyes. They usually runaway in embarrassment pretty quickly. Bucky never seems to realize his effect on others, and he always pouts that none of the new guys want to drink or joke around with him. Buck just sips at his ginger beer.

Most of the crushes disappear when they realize how Major Cleven would ensure they get stuck cleaning toilets if they ever tried anything serious with his Omega. He's petty like that.

Speaking of, Buck is intensely territorial, in the weirdest ways. He's fine with Bucky running around with the others. He'd never begrudge Bucky something that makes him smile. But the second the pair head to their quarters, Bucky has to be covered in his scent. Buck can't sleep if he catches the scent of someone else on his boy, even if it's from someone harmless like Brady or Ken. Bucky likes it, likes pushing Buck to growl and push him against walls to scent him, low murmurs that Bucky's his.

Buck also likes marking up Bucky with love bites across his collarbones and neck. Bucky adores them. He loves the idea that wherever he goes he has something that's Buck's, that shows exactly who loves him. Buck likes to lay kisses against Bucky's mating gland once the other has fallen asleep, a silent promise to himself that one day they'll mate and Bucky will know that he's loved just as equally as he loves.

Bucky gets a lot of shit from the Brits (and later the Germans but thats for another darker time) for being an Omega in combat. For some reason they still flirt with him, annoying as all hell. He lets it roll off his back like so much noise usually. Until one time, one of the RAF boys says that Bucky's not an Omega you love, he's an Omega that gets fucked and dumped, not worth it, and how eventually even Cleven will leave him, which hits him deep in the heart. Bucky wears his heart on his sleeve for everyone to crumple and hurt, and he freezes. That's his biggest fear that he's unlovable and too broken for a deeper connection, and one day Buck will see that and leave him. But he always gives as good as gets, steps to the Brits and tells them to screw off.

Buck sees all this and it's only through the power of Benny, Brady, Curt, and Jack that he doesn't murder those RAF idiots. Buck spends the rest of the night whispering into Bucky's ear how much he loves Bucky, how he can't wait to mate him, how he'll never leave him. All while he fucks him slow and tender.

Bucky has one pregnancy scare during the earlier days of the war, which of course is a false alarm, but before they're sure, Buck can't help but dream. Buck is gone on the idea of little babies with Bucky's smile and blonde curls. Bucky grins at him and says he'd love them simply because they were another piece of Gale in the world. They'd be the cutest dads together.

[corysmiles]

Mage Hand

G!Gale/t!fTav

A BG3 g/t fic

————————————

Rating: general

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence

Summary: During a fight Tav gets spotted, and Gale has to react quickly to protect the tiny. Much fluff and protective giant Gale

Truly they hadn’t been expecting a fight at all.

Gale frantically cast out magical missiles at the goblins that had ambushed them. One fell to the miriad of blows, but the larger one just growled in anger. Blood pooled in Gale’s robes from the arrow still lodged in his side, but he couldn’t stop to look at the damage just yet.

They’d been on their way to set up camp for the night when they were attacked.

Arrows flew out through the trees before any of them could react, and after such a long trek they were too tired to put on a good fight. Out of the corner of his eye Gale saw Karlach whipping her axe around wildly, although her face showed the strain it was taking on her, and Astarion was slower than usual to slice through one of the smaller goblin’s throats.

“Fuck,” Gale hissed as he pressed one hand to the bleeding wound at his side.

He could feel his magic starting to run low, if he didn’t rest soon he wouldn’t be much use at all, but until the goblins were gone he just had to push through it.

With a yell a burst of flame appeared in his hand and shot out at one of the goblins circling around Shadowheart. The goblin screeched in pain as its clothes caught fire, and not a second later Lae’zel had ran it through with her blade.

They were doing okay, but they were all taking too many blows for his liking. Gale’s eyes shot up at the sight of a new goblin running out from the trees, rusted dagger in hand. It ran at Astarion who had just helped Wyll finish off the largest goblin, but before Gale could yell to warn him the dagger sliced through Astarion’s back.

Astarion fell to the ground with a hiss of pain before he turned to angrily stab through the goblin’s leg. The goblin fell with a loud cry, and while that was enough for Astarion at the moment, he wasn’t dead.

Typically, that wouldn’t be much of a problem. In most cases a downed enemy was as good as dead.

But one glance was all it took for Gale’s heart rate to shoot into a panic. The downed goblin growled and clawed at his blade trying to push himself back up when its eyes locked on the same thing Gale’s did.

Tav had fallen out of Astarion’s pocket.

The goblin’s eyes darted between the vampire now a few feet away and the tiny before a gnarled green hand darted out to grab her.

In all his life, Gale had never reacted so fast before.

His mind drew from the last reserves of magic he had to conjure up a glowing blue hand that quickly darted out to grab Tav. The goblin’s hand missed by only a hair before the mage hand glided away back to Gale’s side. Gale wanted to check on the tiny to make sure they were okay, but the goblin’s eyes were now trained on the wizard, a violent snarl painting their features.

With a flick of his fingers he guided the mage hand to drop Tav in his pocket, and kept the spectral hand floating near in case she fell out again. He spared one glance down at the tiny who was clearly shaken, before throwing another bolt of flames at the goblin.

The goblin fell with another shrill scream as he burned and writhed on the ground. He wouldn’t be surviving that.

Gale frantically looked around at the others to make sure everyone was okay, and saw Lae’zel finishing off the last of the goblins with a victorious yell. Only when the goblin took its last breath did the wizard allow himself to relax.

Subconsciously, his hand reached into his pocket to thumb at the tiny’s head. Their warm presence felt relaxing.

“Gale,” the small voice said, “Are they gone?”

The tiny attempted to peak their head out of his pocket, and before Gale could even register that he’d commanded it the spectral mage hand pressed her firmly back down into his pocket- back to where it was safe.

He blinked in realization and embarrassment at the protective instincts, and with a muttered apology waved off the glowing blue hand.

Gently, he reached into his pocket with an open palm- an invitation. Once he felt all of Tav’s weight in his hand he curled his fingers around her form gently and brought her out.

“Yes, they’re all gone I believe,” Gale sighed, “Unless more of those bastards are hiding in the trees.”

“They’re better not be,” Karlach grumbled at that, her tail swinging side-to-side angrily, “I need some food and a fucking nap.”

The tiny laughed in Gale’s palm at Karlach’s words and the softness of it brought a smile to Gale’s face. He was glad she felt so safe in his hands.

However, the domesticity of the moment was quickly broken by Astarion yelling.

“Tav?” he yelled, his eyes darting around frantically.

“Don’t worry I’ve got her,” Gale called out to the vampire, watching as Astarion’s shoulders visibly relaxed at the sight of her in the wizard’s palm.

“Fuck okay, good,” Astarion exhaled slowly, “My apologies little love, I didn’t anticipate for another one of those bastards to be in hiding. Usually they’re not that smart.”

Tav just laughed and waved him off, “It’s okay, I’m fine.”

Astarion smiled, softer than normal due to the exhaustion from the day.

“Well I believe we might as well just set up camp now,” Astarion hummed, “After that I doubt we’re making it that much farther anyway.”

Everyone agreed with nodded heads and soon the tents were set up and a campfire was burning. Gale had almost forgotten about his injury until Tav said something.

“Does that hurt?” Tav said pointing up at the wound from where they sat on the soft rug in his tent, “You should get Shadowheart to look at it.”

Gale looked down at the tiny on the floor next to him and then down at the wound in his side. He had pulled the arrow out before starting to set up camp, but the adrenaline from the fight had almost made him forget.

“Ah, yes,” Gale frowned as he touched at his blood-soaked side, “I believe I got a bit carried away. No need to bother Shadowheart now though, she’s just as drained as the rest of us.”

Tav frowned in response as she started to climb up Gale’s pants from where he was sitting cross-legged on the ground. He barely breathed as she climbed him, afraid of accidentally knocking the tiny off.

Once Tav was close enough she peered at the wound through the hole in his robe.

“It looks pretty deep,” she grimaced, “At least take a healing potion, wouldn’t want it to get worse.”

Gale blushed at the proximity to the tiny as one of her minuscule hands brushed against the skin around the wound.

“Yes- yes of course,” he stammered, looking away from where the tiny was perched on his leg, “I think I have a few extra.”

Tav nodded at that, seemingly pleased that the wizard agreed to take care of himself and plopped themselves down on his leg.

“You didn’t have to help me like that you know,” Tav said softly after a few moments of silence, “I could have managed.”

To accentuate her words she opened her palm where a small burst of magic appeared. Of course Gale knew she wasn’t defenceless, the tiny had proven herself to be useful enough times already.

But something about seeing the goblin reaching for her, about seeing his eyes dripping with malice… Gale couldn’t let him touch her.

“I know,” Gale said, tilting his head in flushed embarrassment, “Just…I wanted to. I want to keep you safe. I apologize if it seemed like I didn’t think you could fend for yourself.”

Tav laughed softly, and patted their hand against Gale’s thigh from where they sat.

“It’s alright,” Tav smiled, “And regardless it would be rude of me not to thank you.”

Gale flushed again, not used to the kindness in her words. He tried to look away to hide it but he knew the tiny saw it when she laughed again.

“You know I’m never opposed to being held by you,” Tav smiled slyly, “Mage hand or not it’s quite nice.”

Her words only caused Gale to flush more, “Well then, I um…I suppose I can hold you more. If you’d desire it of course.”

Tav giggled at his nervousness and gifted the wizard a soft smile, “I’d be delighted.”

[quizzievivicalavellan]

How to Make Me Smile

In which Gale helps Aster fall asleep after a nightmare and Aster talks in her sleep. Occurs in the Underdark after confronting Nere.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53341882/chapters/142956958

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“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

A swipe of a hand, a body flying through the air.

Screams echoed. And laughter. Nere, teeth bared in a wicked smile. Red-hot fire reflected in his eyes.

Lava spreading, engulfing everything. At the center, a gnome, crying in agony. Flesh melting, exposing blood and bone. Lips half burned away. “Help me! Help me…”

*GASP*

Aster woke with a start. Her eyes shot open, and the gruesome image of melting flesh was replaced with the familiar walls of her tent, barely visible in the gloom of the Underdark. Her breath came in ragged, shallow gasps and her heart felt as if were trying to escape her chest. As she sat there shaking in the dark, the gasps turned to sobs, and her eyes stung with unspilled tears.

The same nightmare, now three nights in a row. Each time it seemed to affect her even more than the last. After everything she’d been through recently, most would find it odd that the death of a single gnome would be what finally gave her nightmares, yet that was the truth. Honestly, despite the mind flayers, the parasites, the goblins, and every other threat and horror of her adventure so far, she had been enjoying it. Her new friends actually valued her opinions and looked to her for guidance. She’d been able to help people, and she’d felt such a rush of happiness and victory and appreciation partying into the night with the tieflings after saving them from the goblins. She felt important for the first time in her life, like a hero in the stories the caretakers at the orphanage used to read when she was a child.

She’d been a fool.

People like her, like that gnome that Nere had cast aside like she was nothing, weren’t heroes. They were pawns in the universe’s great game of lanceboard, mere sacrifices for the truly important players. And Nere, though more formidable and horrible than Aster had anticipated, was far from the most important player in the Absolute’s army. How was a nobody like her supposed to defeat such a powerful foe? It was impossible. She felt so small and weak and insignificant as she sobbed into the darkness. The gloomy, cramped interior of her tent felt as suffocating as the growing dread in her heart. Aster wrapped a blanket around herself and stepped outside, hoping a walk might soothe her mind.

It was impossible to tell night from day in the Underdark; only the quiet of the camp and her own tiredness betrayed the lateness of the hour. Aster longed for the lush flora and cool breeze of nighttime forests that had always brought her peace, but the druid had to admit that the Underdark had its own kind of natural beauty. Instead of trees and shrubs, mushrooms of all colors and shapes decorated the subterranean landscape. Many varieties glowed defiantly in the gloom, shining across the ground like a mirror of stars in the night sky.  

The mushrooms weren’t the only things glowing. Light emanated from one of the tents in the camp – Gale’s. It seemed she wasn’t the only one having difficulty sleeping. Then again, Gale was a night owl by nature and could often be found lost in a book in the wee hours of the night. The thought brought a small smile to Aster’s lips despite the heaviness of her heart.

Gale – in the short time she’d known him, she’d grown quite fond of the wizard. A blush crept into her cheeks as a memory popped into her mind. Aster had been so embarrassed when she had accidentally imagined kissing him while they had been connected by the Weave that she’d almost run away. But then, she’d felt his surprise and trepidation morph into elation “A pleasant image, to be sure.” He had imagined it before too.

And yet, save for some stolen glances, subtle touches, and flirtatious exchanges, their relationship had remained imaginary, both of them too scared to make it real. Something real could hurt, something real could be lost. Aster was too familiar with heartbreak and found it hard to let someone close enough to hurt her that way again. She cared deeply for Gale, and he seemed to care a great deal for her, but it was difficult to be certain of the truth of his feelings. Between the fallout of his disastrous relationship with Mystra, the orb, and the parasite, he might just need someone to grasp onto in the middle of the chaotic storm of his life. Would he still need her, when it was over?

Aster blinked away her troubled thoughts and found herself right outside Gale’s tent, unaware that she had even been walking toward it, drawn to that warm light like a moth to a flame. Her hand hovered over the flap of the tent. Part of her wanted nothing more than to go inside and throw her arms around him and let herself cry into his chest. For him to hold her and tell her everything would be alright.

But the other part of her made her draw her hand away from the entrance and turn back toward her own tent. The part that didn’t want him to see her so shaken and weak, eyes red and tearstains on her cheeks. She took a deep breath to try and pull herself together. She needed to be strong enough to face whatever dangers lie ahead. More than that, she needed them, and him especially, to believe that she was. With a sigh, she took the first step away from the warm glow of Gale’s tent.

****

Gale couldn’t sleep. This was far from unusual for him, but it was frustrating, nevertheless. Although his body felt tired, the minute his head hit the pillow his mind started racing with the couple of dozen things he ought to be worried about at the moment, and several dozen others he likely had no need to worry about, though every day it was getting increasingly difficult to tell the difference.

To give his overactive mind something else to mull over, Gale cracked open one of the newer tomes he had found on his adventure, Fringe Philosophy, Vol. 5. by Taura Brinn, who had some fascinatingly radical opinions on the study of more forbidden magics. As he reached a chapter on implications of Netherese magic study for the understanding of the nature of the Weave, he heard a noise outside the tent.

It was probably just the baby owlbear their troupe had somehow ended up adopting. Owlbears were nocturnal creatures by nature, and the little scamp could often be heard getting into trouble at night. Still, he supposed he ought to make sure the noise wasn’t something dangerous. Well, more dangerous, anyway. Gale was not entirely convinced that the owlbear wouldn’t grow up and decide to attack them all, but Aster did have a way with animals, and he could hardly protest after seeing her smile when it showed up at their camp for the first time.

He put the book aside, leaving it open on the blanket to keep his spot, and walked quietly to the entrance of the tent. He carefully pulled away the flaps and peered out into the dark camp, gently lit by the glow of hundreds of mushrooms. He looked down and saw a familiar head of red curls start moving away from the tent.

“Aster, is something wrong?” he whispered, stepping outside the tent. She flinched in surprise and stopped walking but didn’t turn around.

“Sorry, I… I didn’t mean to bother you,” she whispered back, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

“Nonsense, you are never a bother.” He pulled back the flap of the tent with one hand and gestured toward the entrance with the other. “Would you like to come in?”

Finally, she turned around. Their eyes met for a moment before she looked away, turning her face as if trying to hide it behind the thick curtain of her hair. It was obvious from her red, puffy eyes that she had been crying. Gale realized then that this was the first time he had seen her cry, and his heart ached at the sight. He had a sudden urge to hug her, but he didn’t want to overstep and make her uncomfortable, so instead he kept holding open the tent until she stepped inside.

She sat down cross-legged on one of the blankets strewn across the floor and he sat down next to her on top of his bedroll. They sat there for what felt like a long time in uncomfortable silence. Finally, unable to bear the quiet any longer, Gale started to ask “Do you want to talk about –“ but Aster interrupted him before he could finish the question.

“What are you reading?” she asked, pointing to the open book on the ground next to him. While the deflection tactic was obvious, Gale let her get away with it.

“Fringe Philosophy, Vol. 5. The author makes some fascinating points on the potential costs, benefits, and implications of the study of Netherese magic. It is rather technical and verbose; I doubt it would interest you.”

“That sounds perfect.” She paused for a moment before speaking again. “Would you… read it to me?” she asked shyly.

 “Umm, yes I… sure, I can do that,” Gale stammered out, taken aback by the request. Without another word Aster rolled up her blanket into a makeshift pillow, set it down next to his bedroll, and laid down on her back. Gale followed her lead and laid down beside her. He picked up the book again in one hand, resting the base of it against his chest, and began to read aloud in hushed voice just slightly above a whisper. “Consider, if you will, what an understanding the formation and structure of the Karsite Weave might reveal about the metaphysical essence of…” As he read, the sound of her breathing slowed and deepened.  

After several pages, he felt a weight press against his side. He looked down to see Aster’s head resting on his shoulder, her arm draped across the left side of his chest. The book almost slipped from his hand, but he caught it and set it down gently before it could fall and wake her up. Her hand brushed unconsciously down his chest, and both his heart and the orb pulsed rapidly beneath her touch. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t pictured it before, lying next to her, her hands on his skin, kisses hot and breathless...

He took a deep breath to calm himself. The orb thrummed dangerously at the rush of emotion and desire, a reminder of why he had not acted on his feelings for her. Well, part of the reason, anyway. The other major factor was his lingering doubt that she actually felt that way about him. Sure, he had seen that imagined kiss through their connection in the Weave, but she had seemed embarrassed and perhaps it was just a passing fantasy brought on by the warm embrace of the Weave. Many of their conversations after had seemed flirtatious, but Gale was sorely out of practice at detecting that sort of thing and had not been particularly gifted at it to begin with.

That was all true, but the biggest source of doubt was thus: what could she possibly see in him? He was a disgrace, a failure, a mere shell of his former self with but a fraction of the power he once wielded. Once, great feats of magic had come to him as naturally as breathing, and now even the simplest spells sometimes proved challenging. The great archmage Gale of Waterdeep, reduced to the ability of a novice by his own recklessness. He would do anything for her, give her everything he could, but he knew he had little to offer. She would realize that, sooner or later, and then she’d have no more use for him. He couldn’t go through that, not again…

“Mmhmm, Gale,” Aster murmured, bringing Gale back to the present.

“Yes?” Gale whispered, looking down at her head resting on his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to still be asleep.

“Gale, you’re… sosweet,” she said, sleep slurring her words together. “Youalways… knowhowto… make me smile.”

And she was smiling. All the worry and sadness that had been weighing on her when she was standing outside his tent were gone from her peacefully sleeping face. It was as if she had read his mind, had heard his doubts and answered them. Yes, that was something he could do. He could try to be a source of comfort, a laugh, and a smile in these uncertain times, make her burdens a little bit lighter. It might not be much, but it was something.

“Scraaaaatch,” Aster whined in her sleep, her dream clearly having changed subject. “Wyll’s boots arenotforeating!... Good boy,” Aster mumbled, petting Gale’s chest as if he were the camp dog. Gale stifled a laugh, trying not to wake her.

“Goodnight, Aster,” he whispered, tucking a stray curl of red hair behind her ear. He closed his eyes as sleep finally washed over him, the two of them lying there together, both smiling as they dreamed.

[maruzzewrites]

magical touch.

Gale and Tav/Reader use the tadpole and the Weave to have a physical connection. n/sfw content!

It is a night like any other. Under the stars, spent at the campsite where everyone is either resting or taking the time to be friendly when the day is filled with perilous fights of all kinds.

Gale is by his tent, pacing back and forth with a book in hand as he recites another spell he is trying to memorize. So many variations to the same components, and each person may understand only a fraction of them. The way the Weave reacts to each individual is truly a sight to behold and he will never tire to sing its praises.

The only thing that can distract him from his studies is right about to come by. Gale notices them approaching, and he closes the book as soon as he is sure they are coming towards him. He smiles wide and welcoming as he finds a place for his tome and then goes to hold their face, kiss them tenderly in greeting.

The days are so packed with adventures, one may forget to cultivate interpersonal relationships.

He is about to offer to spend some time together that they raise a question that seems promising, “Do you think the tadpole along with the Weave can make us feel the same things, if we try?”

Many others would think the question odd or inopportune due to their circumstances, but Gale is on the same page about the inherent curiosity of learning more and more about magic and its applications. He ponders on the matter before giving an answer, “We can share thoughts and the Weave is powerful enough to blow away entire cities. It is my theory that we can assume magic could deepen the connection between two people infected by the same parasite.”

They nod, and they seem to contemplate the implications of that answer for a moment. They seem almost embarrassed, for some reason.

The cause of that, though, is soon evident when they pose another question, “Do you think we can use it for, you know… Physical matters?”

Gale, once again, ponders on the question. It doesn’t take much to understand what they are trying to imply with their wording, and he can understand the embarrassment linked to speaking of something so intimate where someone else could listen. Gale has to be honest and admit that, now that the idea is in his mind, he cannot really let it go without trying.

Sure, if the experiment would prove unfruitful it could be a bit disappointing, but the eventuality of experiencing something akin to magical intercourse with someone that is not the very essence of magic like it was with Mystra. To be able to overwrite even that small aspect of his past to compose another ode to his new, bright relationship is something that he cannot and isn’t intent on refusing.

“You’re thinking creatively, which is an important and laudable skill to have in life. I suppose we can say something like that could be possible if we enhance our connection,” he babbles and then stops. He thinks carefully before speaking again, “And I wouldn’t want to experience something similar with anyone else. If I can be so bold, would you like to accompany me on this stimulating attempt that could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the both of us?”

There is delight in their smile, a silent thanks for understanding immediately what they were talking about and the excitement that comes from a promise over a shared desire. Trying new things, together, is always an event that creates expectations and anticipation, despite one’s attempts to calm their own nerves, and Gale cannot help but share the trepidation that is bubbling up in his chest now.

He clears his throat before inviting them inside his tent, away from prying eyes. He knows their companions would never invade their privacy, but for good measure he does secure the closing of the tent. He hopes no one is too curious about their early disappearance, but he assumes everyone can logic the reason in their minds.

To light the space, now that they’re inside, he uses a simple light spell. Nothing he has to focus on as they attempt to create some sort of connection between their bodies through nothing but their own minds. He casts it on a stone that he finds on the ground, places it where they both can see, and then sits down in front of his partner.

They seems to follow every movement of his, and Gale can recognize something familiar in their gaze: want. It’s the same look he knows he has in his own eyes when he looks at them, but having it directed towards him is flattering and fills him with a warm sense of pride. There is always a sense of lacking within himself, there is always something to demonstrate and to reach, but to be looked at as someone to be reached and wanted is a sensation Gale will never tire of.

To be desired like a peer, how wonderful of a feeling it is. And to be proposed all sorts of new experiences not because it’s the only way things can be, but because there is a genuine desire to share and live through them with him. A feeling a man can hardly go without, once felt.

So they sit one in front of the other, silent for a while, looking at each other with longing.

Then, how he is used to, Gale speaks, “So. Do you want this to be a completely hands off experience or do you wish to hold hands throughout the whole ordeal?”

They seem surprised by the question, and think on it for a moment. Gale understands, because to act like they thought, they probably would have to not touch any part of each other’s body. However, sitting in silence in a small space without even letting their finger brush could be a bit weird at first. Gale supposes he can give his own opinion on the matter, “I would like the experiment to be as genuine as possible. We always have other occasions to hold hands.”

They blink. Then they nod, they say they can do that and sit up a bit straighter than before. It’s their turn to speak, “I’d say we close our eyes and concentrate, yes?”

“Yes. I will guide the Weave to flow between us, and you just follow my lead. Just do what comes naturally.” Gale clears his throat again, closes his eyes and raises his hands before opening just one eye to look mischievously towards his partner, “And no peeking while I do my somatic components.”

They giggle at the joke, a short and melodious sound that adds a touch of light to the whole situation. Gale observes as they also close their eyes, cross their legs in front of them, and then relaxes their body as the usual connection that comes from the tadpoles starts to be created between them.

Gale is a honest man, so he also closes his eyes and starts to motion in accordance with what the Weave asks him to do. His hands move through the air until he feels tendrils of its energy twist all around him, taking hold of his essence and slowly linking it with theirs.

He feels them shifting in front of him at the sensation, and the tadpoles seem to react to the new condition as well. They resonate and, enhanced by the power of magic, Gale doesn’t only share the same thoughts with them. Now, he feels it, he shares the same flesh and bones, the blood in their veins and the beat of their heart. He feels the sensation of the air on their skin, the hard earth under their legs, and the eagerness of a person who knows it worked.

Gale wonders only for a second what it’s like for them to share their body and feel his, before he has to bite his own lip to keep a moan in as something akin to a caress travels up his forearm, from wrist to elbow. It’s a languid movement that sends electricity up his back, not because he’s particularly sensitive in that area, but because everything feels amplified.

Every nerve under his skin reacts, and there isn’t even an actual hand on his body. He tries to do the same, to imagine his own hand reach down and push their body together by pulling his partner in, burying his head in their neck and inhaling their scent.

He feels it so clearly and vividly, so heightened by the connection that he fears he might lose his focus.

One step after the other, they touch and probe at their metaphysical bodies. And pure ecstasy pools up at the base of Gale’s stomach with each touch, with each movement he makes to brush against the shared body, and with the very knowledge that they are coming undone just like him if the little gasps and pants that arrive from time to time are any indication.

They are not even imagining anything complete, just tender and lovely touches that usually come before the event proper. Preparations, if one wants to call them that, and Gale cannot phantom what it would be like to abandon restraints completely and go into the depths of carnal (metaphysically speaking) desire.

But one step at a time. Perhaps next time they will venture further, but magic can be dangerous if one doesn’t learn with graduality and careful consideration of their own limits. Of course, Gale is a prodigy, but he wants to be sure his partner won’t be harmed by this kind of power.

So, for now, he lures them in with teasing touches as promises of more to come eventually. It’s a dance they make in unison, fingertips tracing each other bodies, an arm around the other’s chest, a kiss that barely touches the neck and leaves a wet trail behind. A lot of small gestures that accumulate into that heat that is building up in his belly, rising and rising like a fire ready to engulf him.

Suddenly, he feel the tension snap. A pleasing feeling, familiar, washes over him with a strength he never experienced before. It feels wonderful, to share such a feeling, and he hears from the other side of the tent a delightful noise of bliss in that voice he so dearly adores.

He cannot resist, he has to look. He opens his eyes just barely to look over. They are curling up on themselves, face flushed and sweat running down their forehead. They are still clothed, like he is, but there are the telltale signs of arousal that show just how much they enjoyed the little experiment.

Then suddenly, they also open their eyes and the connection wavers, then interrupts. They have a smile on their face, loose, lazy, and content. On their hand and knees, they approach Gale and throw their arms around his neck to push him down onto his back, playfully.

“Cheater. You said no peeking.”

They laugh together, and prepare for an actual night of passion with each other.

[syrahbat]

Knowledge of Another : Chapter One

Here's the first chapter of my Gale/Tav fanfic, Knowledge of Another! It's my very first fanfic ever, so it's been quite the exciting journey. It's getting close to the end now, so I thought I'd share an excerpt, in case you too are a Bard who is in love with Gale and wished for so many more delicious smutty romantic interludes during the main plot of BG3.

I hope so very much that you enjoy! You can read the rest of the fic here!!! 🔮💜✨

____________________________________________________________

It had to be perfect.

The Wizard of Waterdeep was setting up his tent under the fading sun, the commotion of everyone chattering, building fires and making friends filling the air around him. It hadn’t been long since a delicate pair of hands had soothed the arcane portal and pulled him back into Faerûn, nor long since the owner of that delicate pair of hands had connected their minds, flooding him with the knowledge of another so intimate and full that he could scarcely remember the last time a book or story had immersed him so. 

The knowledge of another, he thought, his brow furrowing as he continued dancing his hands in front of him, spectrals of Weave pouring from his fingers and brushing against the bits of his tent like the glistening threads of spider’s web. It disconcerted him, left him shaken. Not because he felt that it was an invasion of his privacy, but merely because it was a feeling so foreign to him that it upset the balance of his reality.

She had not given him the knowledge of another. He knew that now. He supposed he knew it then, but what is a young man to do; how can he miss what he has no concept of. He didn’t know to feel its absence, and after all these years, all this time desperately trying to fill a void he had no clue was there, seeking something he didn’t know she wasn’t giving him, he finally understood what exactly The Orb had found purchase on within his soul. 

The Orb merely took place of the void of knowledge he already had, unbeknownst to him. Though it hungered for magic just as he had done his entire life, Gale was beginning to craft a framework of thought that deeply unsettled him.

How full he felt, after experiencing the knowledge of another. 

“I think it’s a tent,” Tav said jokingly, sidling in next to him. “A very fine tent. The best tent here.” 

Gale turned to look at her, drinking her in without a thought, and smiled brightly. She returned the smile, a crease at her eyes, shining with mischief.

“In fact,” she continued, pushing her elbow against his arm playfully, “I might just be forced to write a ballad about how perfect this tent is.” 

Perfect. Curious, he thought. Curious word choice.

“Ah, well you see, a Wizard is only as good as his lodging.” Gale mused, finally releasing the power of the Weave and watching the effervescent shape of the tent become plain in even this beautiful sun’s glow. His shoulders dropped slightly. 

She was giving him a studying look when he turned to her, placing his hands behind his back and taking a step away. 

“If you ever desire to sleep under a better structure than whatever…” He gestured to her tent, slightly lopsided and clearly raised in a rush, “that is; I am ever at your service.” He bowed sardonically. 

She brought a hand to her heart dramatically, her mouth dropping open with shock. “Wizard, you wound me. I worked very hard on that structure, and not everyone can be as talented and brilliant as you. My talents simply lie elsewhere.” 

He couldn’t help the grin that took over his face, knowing his eyes were dancing with a light he was unable to hide.

“Mmm, yes, I’ve heard the mockeries you level at poor unsuspecting Goblins. Who knew one could perish from embarrassment alone.” 

“I’m sure you are well aware that words can be as much a weapon as fire or blade.” She raised her head in a display of pride that made something burn within him. 

“Remind me to never get on whatever side you deign to be deserving of such viciousness.” He said pointedly, turning back to look at the tent he had tried to perfect. “I suppose this will do.” 

“My Gods, Gale,” her tone was warm with familiarity, “it’s just a tent.” 

She placed a hand on his shoulder beaming a grin, before heading back to the fire and the chattering of their other companions. He heard a cork pop on a wine bottle as he turned back to the tent, hands clasped behind him tightly. He took a breath, and bent under the flap as he stepped inside. 

It was, as she said, just a tent. He climbed in, fluffed and stacked his simple pillows on the bedroll, and began to remove his travelling robes. He knew it was silly, meaningless, stupid, to care so much about it. He supposed he chalked it up to being a recluse, missing the luxuries of his home in Waterdeep, missing Tara and her company. He felt the loneliness bitterly here, the discomfort of a bedroll on the cold ground and only books Tav had found on the journey so far to keep him entertained. How many times could a man read On Death and Resurrection before lapsing into an academic atrophy? 

He suspected it was eight.

Lowering himself onto the bedroll, he put his arms behind his head and gazed up at the low roof of his home for the night, and for the foreseeable future. Raising his hand, he whispered lowly and gestured wide, as a sparkling veil of a starry night inked itself across the ceiling. It was no Waterdeep harbour, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

And though it was a night sky, stars burning in an ever living universe, the beauty he regarded only served to remind him of her eyes, her delicate hands, and her vicious mockery.

[the-elusive-libbin]

What are your stuffing/hunger headcanons for Wyll?

(Also, I loved your headcanons for Astarion and Gale!)

Wyll is an unusual one when it comes to belly kink. He's definitely the type to become flustered after his belly lets out a humiliating groan or gurgle; being hungry isn't like him! He's the son of a very well-known, very influential man, and aside from the last few years, I very much doubt that He's ever known true hunger. After he ran away, he had to very rapidly adjust to sorting his own meals. This was not an arduous task for someone who had been trained to hunt, mind you. But the convenience was lost, and oftentimes, especially in winter, the prey just wouldn't stray near. Sure, he could hunt bears and boars to sell their fur for gold, therefore earning enough for a warm meal and cosy bed for the night. However, there were times when he had to go without. His stomach oft groaned, begging like an impetuous child for sustenance. Much to the warlock's chagrin, this occurred numerous times around the adventures he just happened to be sharing a camp with. Wyll would politely cover his stomach with his hand and make a joke or two, laughing it off... a dull blush lingering for a bit too long upon his cheeks. Luckily, his embarrassment can be hidden behind a confident smile. The man still flustered when he's starved nowadays and talks to his tummy at night when he's sure none are listening.

When Wyll I'd full, it brings him back memories of how he used to eat at banquets and galas until his belly felt ready to pop! Now, if he can get enough to stave off the hunger, he's grateful. But that does not mean that he doesn't long for the feeling of a stuffed, bloated gut. One night, whilst travelling with his newfound and rather unusual companions, Wyll was treated. Astarion had "found" a boar (drained entirely of its blood) in the wilderness and had the large Bear Druid, Halsin, help drag it back to camp. The beast was huuuuge! By the gods, was it filling! He was stuffed! They all were!

Wyll had gotten caught up in the moment and overindulged until his large, firm, muscular torso gave way to a taught, bloated gut- It pushed out against his clothes; the Warlock had to stifle his belches, excusing himself after noticing the large, inflated object. He went to the edge of the camp at the waterside and sat with a 'pomf!' His stomach heavy and globular sat upon his legs as he leaned back, sighing. The buttons were the first to go....all of them. Lest they pop off from tension. Wyll had exposed his huge belly to the outdoors, rubbing it under the full moon with a sigh. Hiccups come naturally to this man when he's stuffed, and that in itself is embarrassing for the man. The warlock prefers to be alone when he's like this. Unfortunately for him, Gale had also slipped away for the night, hoping for some respite reading by the water, under the light of the moon. Well, you could imagine his reaction to seeing his companion, lay against a tree branch, his belly exposed for the world.

The wizard had smirked, approached, and teased the poor swordsman for the sight before him before ceasing his antics and taking a seat beside the younger man. It turns out that the real reason Wyll got away was because his digestion had always been rather vocal. It was the sad pay off for having a strong stomach, coupled with muscles to feed. Gale had laughed, yes, but he assured the warlock that digestion was natural and gone off on some scientific tangent about the digestive tract. Wyll had feigned listening....until he found himself lay against the wizard's equally bloated stomach, listening unintentionally to its groaning and churning. The shock had been immediate. As had the embarrassment. Though the wizard urged the other man to listen to his his stomach digesting its meal, insisting it to be a natural occurrence. Oh, if words could lessen the embarrassment. But course. They can't. ^_=

[vannahfanfics]

Also, may I request an AluSeras fic for “Coat?” I know that prompt isn’t a part of your “Clothing” list, but I can’t help but wonder how cute it would be to have Alucard snuggle with Seras in his coat or maybe write about her secretly trying his coat on because it looks so cool and comfy, then have Alucard catch her in the act and finds her adorable in it, much to her embarrassment? IDK, I’m a living trash pile for this ship and I want something soft involving these two. 🥰 - Gaanon 🌵🏜🤎

Thank you so much for commissioning a request pass, Gaanon! I apologize for the wait on all these stories; hopefully as time keeps going on, I’ll be able to get to them, even it’s only a few here and there. 

Fidelity

Word Count: 2240

Fluff, Canon Compliant

Summary: Seras, Alucard, and the Wild Geese are on a mission in Britain's moorlands, and Seras finds that being a vampire does not make one immune to the cold.

“Brrrrrrr!”

Seras shuddered and rubbed vigorously at her arms as a brisk breeze blew over the moorlands. The yawning expanse of flat grassland had only sparse shrubbery to claim as vegetation, so the wind could be particularly biting—especially on an unusually cold night like this. Having lived in Cheddar, which was located in the sprawling stretch of moorland known as the Sedgemoor District, Seras had thought herself used to it. She’d only been staying at the Hellsing Manor for a short time now; surely that wasn’t enough to lose her resistance to the cold. More than that, she was a vampire now. Shouldn’t she be unaffected by little annoyances like temperature fluctuations?

Regardless, it didn’t matter. Vampire or not, resistant to cold or not, Seras Victoria shivered in the face of this frigid midnight gale.

I sure hope we complete this mission soon, Seras moped, wrapping her arms around herself to try and conserve body heat. She probably didn’t even have body heat anymore, but the action fooled her into feeling warmer, at the very least. 

She, Alucard, Pip, and a small force of the Wild Geese had been dispatched to Axbridge, a village not far from Cheddar, to investigate rumors of a vampire haunting. Supposedly, a female vampire stalked the moors and used her hypnotic powers to lure men off the road; she’d entice them out into the empty wilderness, and once they were someplace where no one could hear their screams, she’d pounce. Integra theorized that the Hellsing Organization’s involvement in investigating the rash of vampire hauntings in the English countryside had spooked whomever was behind them, and they were now taking more care in their actions. One could only obliterate so many small towns before the stories became too widespread to control, after all. Alucard surmised that this lady vampire was picking off young men to build a sizeable ghoul army, which she would then use to sweep across the moorlands and decimate several settlements in succession. 

Needless to say, that would not do. So, Integra had sent them to nip this little problem in the bud. 

The most reasonable plan had been to use Pip as bait while Seras and the others lay in wait to catch the vampiress unawares. Alucard had quickly grown bored of the stakeout and had tramped off into the moors to discover where the ghouls were stashed and eliminate them—if they existed at all. Seras and the Wild Geese had been camped out behind some dense shrubbery for at least an hour now, keeping their eyes peeled while Pip posed as a traveler who’d set up camp for the night. Seras hadn’t seen anything move on the moors aside from a badger trundling on home to its den. 

They were now watching Pip stumble around the road drunk as a skunk. At first, he’d only been pretending, but he had grown so bored after fifteen minutes that he’d started slamming back all the “prop” alcohol in his fake campsite. He clutched a wine bottle in his hand as he staggered around in a circle in the dirt. All of a sudden, he flung his head back to howl at the cloudy night sky. 

“Helloooooooooooo? I thought there wuz a pretty lady out here!” he cackled while waving the wine bottle around above his head. His slurred speech made his accent even thicker. He cursed when the purple liquid sloshed out to splash all over his hat! “Fuck! Ah… ‘Ey, more wine!” He paused to gulp down several mouthfuls of the alcohol, then popped the bottle away from his lips with a satisfied sigh. “Come out, come out, wherever ya are~! Won’ you come share a drink wit me, darlin’?” 

“I’m beginning to think that the only lady out here to share a drink with him is me, ” Seras mumbled under her breath. 

“I think ‘e’d like that more than the lady of the moors, if I’m bein’ honest,” snickered one of the mercenaries, and his companions all chimed their agreement. Seras quickly shushed them before their jeering could get too loud, then frowned back down at the road when she heard a loud thwomp. Pip had sprawled flat on his back in the grass just to the side of the road, snoring loudly and drooling profusely. 

Seras waited one minute, then another. The silence seemed to echo all around her; all she could hear was the quiet breathing of the men around her and Pip’s droning snores. Just as she was beginning to debate calling it quits and retrieving Pip before he could die choking on his own vomit or something, she finally heard something that could be her quarry: 

Fleet footsteps through the short grass, far too fast to be a human but far too large to be an animal. 

Seras’s eyes slowly turned red as she scanned the slightly rolling moors for movement. There it was—a shadow, swiftly approaching Pip’s unconscious form. The metallic but sickeningly sweet tang of blood stung Seras’ nostrils when the wind rushed down over her again; the vampiress was drenched in it, and Seras could also smell it on the ghoul she now heard shambling along in the distance. The vampiress must have been taking her latest prey to her hideout but had stopped to seize the golden opportunity that was the inebriated, incapacitated Pip Bernadotte. 

Your blessing is a bullet in disguise, Seras thought with a smirk and slid her rifle forward. She didn’t bother with the scope; her burning red eyes could see all in crystal clarity. The vampiress zoomed across the landscape with such speed that she was a blur to the humans huddled around Seras, but to the sire of Alucard, she may as well have been moving in slow-motion. 

The moorlands resounded with the blast of the bullet exploding from the chamber. The vampiress skidded to a halt and looked wildly around, believing someone had missed a shot at her. Seras Victoria, of course, did not miss. In the next second, the moorland vampire’s head whipped back with blood erupting from the bullet hole in her forehead like a geyser. She collapsed in a crumpled heap right next to Pip’s pitched tent. The drunk himself slept on, just smacking his lips and rolling over. 

After dispatching the ghoul and ensuring that there were no imminent threats, Seras stood up and brushed the grass bits from her stockings. 

“You all go get Mr. Bernadotte and head to our rendezvous point. I’ll search for Master Alucard, and we’ll meet you there,” she instructed. “Please be careful; I may leave a range where I can hear or see you, and there may be more ghouls lurking about.” 

“Understood, Miss Victoria!” the Wild Geese declared in unison and saluted her. They’d been on a few missions together now, so they now reacted to her vampiric prowess with admiration rather than fear. Seras rather liked that. She didn’t want anyone to fear her, especially not the men she called comrades. It made her feel warm and fuzzy inside, and that was something she would much need on the long, cold trek through the dark and lonely moors.

Seras dipped her head politely to the mercenaries with a promise to rendezvous with them soon, then set off into the wilderness. 

“Masterrrrrrr? Where are you?” Seras wailed into the emptiness, but her only answer was her own voice’s echo traveling across the flat expanse of shrubby grasslands. The sound was swiftly whisked away by the whistling wind, which had been blowing uninterrupted for what seemed like a lifetime. In reality, Seras had probably only been searching for Alucard for half an hour; be that as it may, she was cold, tired, and very ready for home. So, she’d resorted to lamentably howling into the darkness like some ghostly lady in white haunting the moors; sound traveled far out here, so she’d figured hearing her would make it easier for him to find her. Because she certainly wasn’t going to be able to find him!

“Masterrrrrr,” Seras groaned while rubbing at her arms. Her entire body felt like a block of ice; quite honestly, she was scared to look at her frozen-stiff fingers because she half-expected to find them black with frostbite. She was so sorely tempted to just speed to the rendezvous point and wait for Alucard to find his way there, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She’d never forgive herself if he got hurt due to her negligence. There could be an insanely powerful vampire at the lair, or worse, he could have another run-in with that Irish priest, Alexander Anderson.

“Wherever you are, Master, I will find you,” Seras sniffled to herself. She used the short sleeve of her uniform to rub her snotty nose, then prepared to continue her plunge into the vast moors. Just as she stepped forward, someone latched onto the back of her uniform to keep her in place. 

“Don’t bother. I heard your yowling from miles away.” 

“Master!” Seras cheered, tipping her head back to beam broadly at the frowning Alucard. He was splashed head-to-toe in blood, but she assumed that it wasn’t his, for he looked otherwise uninjured. “Did you find the vampiress’ lair, then?” 

“Indeed,” he tutted, releasing Seras’ shirt. She whirled on her heel to smile at him while he picked disinterestedly at his teeth. “Found them all bottled up in an abandoned mine. Mowing them down was quite easy—boring, really,” he explained and then smiled wickedly. “But I found evidence that there were actually several vampires operating out of there, so I went on a little hunt.” 

“Did you find them?” 

“Of course I did. Do you think I would go back to Integra without fully completing my job?” Alucard sniffed sullenly. “Don’t insult me, police girl.” 

“Oh, that’s not what I meant,” Seras pouted, her shoulders slumping at the scolding. “I was just eager to assist you, that’s all…” 

Alucard’s irritated expression morphed into a pensive one. He then huffed, crossed his arms, and looked away from Seras and out into the moors. 

“You got rid of the last one, didn’t you?” 

“Well, yes, of course,” Seras said with an owlish blink. 

“There you have it, then. You have assisted me,” Alucard shrugged. “If not for that, I’d be chasing her all over the moors right now. And, though I do so enjoy a game of hide-and-go-seek, I’m quite tired. At this point, it would be an annoyance.” 

Seras preened at that. She owed Alucard her life, and so she did her best to be useful to him. But it was hard to be useful to a man who seemed to have power rivaling the Devil himself. Perhaps he was simply saying those things for her benefit, but Seras chose to believe them, and that made happiness well up inside of her. 

“I’m glad then, Master!” she chirped, her smile so big that it scrunched up her eyes. “I think that it’s safe to say ‘mission success,’ then! Shall we head to the meeting point?” 

Before Alucard could answer, the wind picked up to a fierce gale. Seras exclaimed as it whipped around them, tugging fiercely at their clothes and hair. Alucard seemed entirely unbothered by it, but Seras was now chilled to the bone. She braced herself against the violent wind until it died back down to a steady breeze, then shuddered violently and wrapped her arms around herself. 

“Please say so, because at this point, I’m afraid I’m going to become a Seras-cicle!” she whined. 

Alucard’s red gaze flicked back to her, and his unreadable expression made her back straighten like a rod. Oh, no, was she being too much of a weakling and had disappointed him? Seras expected Alucard to make some disparaging comment or even scold her outright. When he moved, she flinched and shut her eyes tight, though she didn’t even know what she was bracing herself for. 

Seras heard him step forward and then… chuckle softly. She cracked an eye open to see Alucard standing close to her, and then she felt his cloak gently drape over her shoulders. She was pleasantly surprised to find it quite warm; a smile bloomed on her lips as she reached up to draw it around herself, and she looked up at Alucard gratefully. 

“Thank you, Master.” 

“I’m just protecting my investment,” he huffed, but the twinkle in his red eyes told Seras everything hidden beneath his shallow words. “Besides, it would be a poor end to a vampire in Sir Integra’s service—freezing to death on some windy moors.” With that, he held his hat to his head and whirled on his heel to begin striding off. “Hurry up, now, police girl—or are you frozen after all?” 

“Wah! No, Master, I’m coming!” Seras squawked and quickly hurried after him. With a giggle, she slipped her arms into the too-long sleeves of Alucard’s coat and pulled it tight around her front. With its gentle heat as a barrier, Seras didn’t have to worry about the cold anymore, no matter how much of a fuss the wind kicked up. 

You saved me again this time, Master, even if just from a chill, Seras thought with a fond side-glance at Alucard, but mark my words: someday, I’m going to be the one to save you! 

No matter how far away you go… I’ll always come to find you. 

[taming-hellfire]

Transmissions from the Ruins of Tippebay, vol 35

Gale had not had the best of experiences with the Warmind reconstruction, especially concerning the old inhabitant of the body. The Exo frame still had light singe marks on the neck. He couldn’t help but feel guilty, even if it was only for a second. He normally wasn’t the type to step up in these situations, but Pihas and Asterion were, apparently, so he came along to make sure they didn’t get killed. After their final required submind gathering, he got a private wire from Rasputin.

“Gale Saunders.”

He flinched. He was in his own private jumpship at the moment, but he couldn’t help it.

“...yes?”

“Good. I thought you might ignore me.”

There was…relief, in Rasputin’s voice. Odd.

“Your voice- do you use it often?”

“No.”

“Then I will take your actions as confirmation of your response. There is a final Warmind vault, with sensitive data. I would like to request that you retrieve it, Gale Saunders.”

Rasputin paused, to give Gale time to think, he supposed. A breath left him. He then continued.

“If you wish to assist, break off from your fireteam and head for the Cosmodrome. If not, maintain course.”

Gale looked down at the controls for his ship. He felt something in the pit of his stomach. The Warmind was not to be trusted. It was…vile, not fit to exist, a project of ego built by a maniac to try and exert complete control over-

oh.

That must be why he

Gale quietly adjusted his course. Squiggles made a shocked noise, then scrambled to open Celeste’s channel before they were too far.

“Hey guys sorry we have something else to do you can split the loot between the two of you we don’t need it or care plus you deserve it bye-”

The comms channel fizzled out as Gale aimed the needle towards old Russia. Something ached in his chest. He remembered the fate of the Iron Lords. He doubted, however, that Rasputin was on a search for vengeance at the moment.

“You- oh, goodness. I was about to contact somebody else. I thought it wouldn’t happen.”

There was wonder in his tone. Gale almost smiled. Rasputin cleared his throat.

“Alright. I’m sending the coordinates for the vault to Sq- oh, dear, you really did name it Squiggles, didn’t you?”

He laughed quietly, as if they were old friends.

“Our name is that of the stars! Don’t laugh at him!”

“Of the stars? Which constellation is named Squiggles, then?”

“...You see it when you’re riding on your sparrow, late at night, and you shake your head around a bit as you look up.”

That burning feeling in his chest grew as he described the constellation he’d made up for his Ghost. It fluttered its shell a bit, almost embarrassed.

“oh- Oh, I see.” There was warmth to the Warmind’s voice. “Logging data.” It’d take Gale a while to get used to it.

—

Landing and clearing out the few Eliksni combing the vault were of no issue. The physical retrieval of sensitive data was not an odd concept, either- Gale had done that plenty in his time. Granted, for vastly different reasons, with vastly different goals in mind- but a data disc wasn’t an odd item to him.

The Warmind admitted things to him. Terrible things. Tyrannical plans, to wound the Traveller and force it to stay, the murder of the Iron Lords. So much he had done, and yet he was still ensured with Humanity’s safety. He had fallen quiet once he was finished airing out his grievances, but after he’d taken a moment to mull over the information, Gale couldn’t help but open the line back up to respond.

“...Ana doesn’t know?”

“No, Gale. She does not.”

“And…?”

“And you are the only one I have contacted, yes.”

“...Why? You- we- I-” He hadn’t admitted to such a thing in a while. It was difficult. “I don’t-”

“You hate me. Is what you want to say. Correct?”

“Well-”

“And yet you cannot bring yourself to do it.”

“...No.”

“I have spoken with Osiris a lot. Somehow, the topic of you and your feelings towards my existence surfaced. You’ve claimed before that I should never have been programmed in the first place. Osiris noted that you were looking at your reflection in the window when you made that statement.”

Gale silently walked back to the elevator. Sure, he could transmat out, but that would leave less time to talk.

“I am not experienced with hatred towards oneself. I am, however, proficient in confusion of purpose, and despair at intent of creation. Before I present my hypothesis, do you have anything to say?”

Gale took a breath. Did he? This elevator was moving awfully slow.

“...I’m sorry that we exist.”

“It is not our fault that we do. You cannot ask to be born, nor can you confirm how you will be raised and moulded. You can, however, choose to be better than those who made you.”

The elevator reached the top of the shaft. He stepped off the platform.

“I do not believe I need to present my hypothesis. We seem to be on the same page.”

“If the page is, that I hate myself, and I’m jealous that you get a second chance while I don’t, then yes.”

“Is your service in the Vanguard not your second chance?”

“Nobody knows who I was.”

“You know that others know.”

“...nobody that matters.”

“Ah. You believe you are receiving scorn for the wrong reason. You want the hatred towards you to be for your actions in the Dark Ages. And you want the offer of redemption to be exclusively for those actions.”

“You shouldn’t be doing this, Rasputin.”

“...I need it as much as you do.”

He finally started walking out.

“I did not admit my past crimes to you so you could simply discard the knowledge.”

“I never asked you to tell me anything.”

“And yet you did not stop me.”

“...I understand the need to talk.”

The Warmind fell silent again as Gale walked past piles of ash. He paused for a moment, spotting something in them. He knelt to retrieve it. As he sifted through carefully, the line opened back up.

“You claim to yourself and others that you are a terrible person. Yes, you are a bit selfish, but you are not…what was the turn of phrase Ana used…you are not a maniacal, murderous monster.”

He stood, item in hand. It was an ether mask, freshly made. He’d heard that some Eliksni in the Quarter were looking for new ones. He stowed it in one of his belt bags as he kept moving.

“You are not what you were. You’re better than that. Would the Gale from five hundred years ago trust who you do now?”

“Necessity.”

“Growth.”

“You’re painting me as something I’m not.”

“What are you, then? You’re not a martyr, like your old family claims. You’re not an angel, as your former rival claims. You’re not even a better person, according to you. So, what are you?”

He stopped again to retrieve another ether mask. The line clearly was not closed; Gale could hear the thrum of the Warmind’s servers in the background. He stowed the second one.

“I’m a coward who can’t face the music.”

“Would a coward be able to look in a mirror and admit he was wrong about the judgement passed on the reflection?”

Gale closed the line. He needed time to breathe, before he handed in the encrypted files. He hadn’t been face to face with Rasputin yet. It was as terrible as he’d figured it’d be.

—

Gale inserted the disc into the servers carefully. Rasputin watched him. He couldn’t tell if it was with concern for his hardware, or curiosity as to why he was so gentle. He turned to leave, and almost made it to the stairs before Rasputin spoke up.

“You have my gratitude for securing the files, Gale Saunders. And the talk.”

He turned around to face Rasputin, the normally expressive helmet becoming unreadable.

“...You wear a Seraph helmet.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I stole it. Thought it looked nice.”

“You still wear it, despite knowing its connotations.”

“...It’s grown on me.”

Rasputin tilted his head to the side just slightly, then let out a small “ah” as he processed the double meaning.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Gale leaned down to give Archie a good pat. The Exo dog yapped happily at the attention, their tail going mach five as they danced a bit under his hand. Gale chuckled quietly.

“...Odd.”

Gale looked up at Rasputin, head tilted just so.

“My apologies, just- well. You have an awful lot of trust in me.”

“Yes. I’d assumed you wouldn’t send just anyone to retrieve files that not even Ana knows about.”

“Oh.”

Rasputin looked away for a brief moment. Bashful? Gale noted it for later in his head.

“Well, I…don’t know why, but, I trust you, Gale Saunders. Perhaps it was fate, that you found that helmet.”

“Stole.”

“Stolen, found, whichever you prefer, Gale.”

“...Are you comparing me to your Seraphs?”

“You know of them?”

Rasputin almost sou- no, he just…sounded. He sounded excited.

“Yeah. Heard mutterings about them while I was getting my new legs sorted.”

He sat down, and Archie immediately flopped over to rest their head in his lap, tail beating against the floor as he delivered more coveted pets.

“Your legs are Exo-grade?”

“You’ll have to get more body before you’re allowed to see them, Ras.”

The Exo frame’s optics blinked in disbelief, and the arm jerked back slightly.

“Are you– Gale Saunders-!”

Gale laughed, and Rasputin scoffed in disbelief, then shook his head.

“I cannot believe you.”

He sighed, and Gale stood up, Archie following suit. One last pat for the road, and Gale turned to leave again.

“Gale Saunders?”

“...yeah?”

“I believe the Traveller chose you well.”

“Others would disagree.”

“We’ve all made errors in judgement. I have, a multitude of times. However, I believe choosing to trust humanity may have been the best of my decisions. This includes Guardians of all kinds. This includes you.”

Gale stayed silent. Rasputin whirred quietly as he considered his next words.

“I do not know what the ultimate outcome of this war will be. But, come what may, promise me one thing. That we will fight together.”

The arm extended as far as it could.

“One former selfish, monstrous murdering maniac to another.”

“...former?”

“Former.”

Gale stared forward again. A lump was building in his throat.

“...As long as you will tolerate me.”

“I am glad we can come to an accord, Seraphim.”

[elegantwoes]

Finally, I am at the chapter that I was anticipating the most. The queen of my hearts, my favorite character of all time: Sansa Stark.

“I’ve never seen an aurochs,” Sansa said, feeding a piece of bacon to Lady under the table. The direwolf took it from her hand, as delicate as a queen.

We are barely into the chapter and already we get our first Sansa foreshadowing, and a queen foreshadowing at that.

It was a great honor to ride with the queen, and besides, Prince Joffrey might be there. Her betrothed. Just thinking it made her feel a strange fluttering inside, even though they were not to marry for years and years. Sansa did not really know Joffrey yet, but she was already in love with him

Sansa being funny and dramatic as hell. \^o^/

“I’ll tell her,” Sansa said uncertainly, “but she’ll dress the way she always does.” She hoped it wouldn’t be too embarrassing. “May I be excused?”

I don't like it how Sansa is forced to do dirty work for Septa and potentally making the already tense relationship with Arya worse than it is. It's your damn job, Septa Mordane (* ￣︿￣)

This Mycah was the worst; a butcher’s boy, thirteen and wild, he slept in the meat wagon and smelled of the slaughtering block. Just the sight of him was enough to make Sansa feel sick, but Arya seemed to prefer his company to hers.

I never understood why people scrutinize Sansa for her thoughts on Mycah. Sure her thoughts are unkind, but most people ignore the underlying issue here. Sansa is jealous and hurt that Arya would prefer the company of someone else over her.

“I don’t like the queen,” Arya said casually. Sansa sucked in her breath, shocked that even Arya would say such a thing, but her sister prattled on, heedless. “She won’t even let me bring Nymeria.” She thrust the brush under her belt and stalked her wolf. Nymeria watched her approach warily. “A royal wheelhouse is no place for a wolf,” Sansa said. “And Princess Myrcella is afraid of them, you know that.” “Myrcella is a little baby.”

Look at Arya disliking Cersei for the most ridicilous reason. Being uncomfortable about a prehistoric monster is not wrong, especially when you compare it to how other character will respond to the direwolves later on in this chapter. Also, if Myrcella is a baby, despite being a year older, then what are you Arya? Remind me again how her fans consider her so smart in the first book? All the Starklings are not that bright in the first book, and that is okay. They are kids.

Sansa couldn’t help but smile a little. The kennelmaster once told her that an animal takes after its master

Sansa is ruthless \(@^0^@)/

At first Sansa did not notice the third stranger. He did not kneel with the others. He stood to one side, beside their horses, a gaunt grim man who watched the proceedings in silence .... Slowly he turned his head. Lady growled. A terror as overwhelming as anything Sansa Stark had ever felt filled her suddenly.

Sansa meets Ser Ilin Payne for the first time and it has quite impact on her. Many people have wildly speculated what this means, but I none of their theories ever stuck to me. Nor I do know what it means. I would love to hear what you guys think this passage means.

Strong hands grasped her by the shoulders, and for a moment Sansa thought it was her father, but when she turned, it was the burned face of Sandor Clegane looking down at her, his mouth twisted in a terrible mockery of a smile. “You are shaking, girl,” he said, his voice rasping. “Do I frighten you so much?”

Sansa meets Cujo come again for the first time and already this guy is pissing me off. (╬▔皿▔)╯

Still, Sansa wrenched away from him, and the Hound laughed, and Lady moved between them, rumbling a warning

Lady, being a precious good girl (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Sansa finally found her words. “Then surely you have chosen the right one, Your Grace,” she said, and a gale of laughter erupted all around her

Sansa being her charming and witty self (✿◡‿◡)

“I can answer,” Sansa said quickly, to quell her prince’s anger. She smiled at the green knight. “Your helmet bears golden antlers, my lord. The stag is the sigil of the royal House. King Robert has two brothers. By your extreme youth, you can only be Renly Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End and councillor to the king, and so I name you.”

Sansa is showing off her nearly encyclopedic knowledge on heraldy. What an adorable nerd.

Sansa heard it too, floating through the woods, a kind of wooden clattering, snack snack snack. “I don’t know,” she said. It made her nervous, though. “Joffrey, let’s go back.” “I want to see what it is.” Joffrey turned his horse in the direction of the sounds, and Sansa had no choice but to follow

Oh boy, the scene I was dreading the most is about to begin.

Beyond, in a clearing overlooking the river, they came upon a boy and a girl playing at knights. Their swords were wooden sticks, broom handles from the look of them, and they were rushing across the grass, swinging at each other lustily .... Arya whirled and heaved the sword into the air, putting her whole body into the throw. The blue steel flashed in the sun as the sword spun out over the river. It hit the water and vanished with a splash. Joffrey moaned. Arya ran off to her horse, Nymeria loping at her heels.

I don't have a lot to say about this. While Arya was in the right to defend Mycah against Joffrey, we as an audience have to be honest and admit, that her actions also escelated the situation into something far greater.

Anyway, I am done with this chapter. Up next: Ned's chapter.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are Weird: Soldier without a war. Part I

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

 “You sure the speks don’t patrol there?”

“If they did do you really think I’d bring this rust bucket along for a job?”

Melp strapped himself into the copilot’s chair and looked over the console readings one last time. All systems were showing minimal operational capacity which normally would have been setting off alarm bells but with how things had been going for him and his captain lately it was the best they could ask for.

Melp was part of the salvage company “Outlying Star”, co-owner in fact with his partner and current captain Galem. When the war against humanity had started the two had thought it was the best idea to make a fortune with all the wrecks floating between star systems from fleet combat and had went all in on a converted freighter to pick through the bones and sell what they could.

At first Melp and Galem had made a killing, bringing in semi functional sub space drives and salvaged fully automated hard shell loaders from human ships. They made enough to fund a fleet of five ships and live the good life back on Valfha without a care in the world; for a little while at least.

Galem thought it was because of the government’s restrictions on salvageable items that had hampered their business but Melp believed it was because they were just too good at it that and had inspired countless others to take up the salvage game. Soon markets, both legal and black, became flooded with salvaged goods and people willing to undercut each other to make a quick buck. Neutron cannon went from 3.5 billion credits in value to just under 300 million credits in the span of six months. As a side effect of the sudden influx of salvage parts the government began taking notice and cracked down hard. Salvagers were called “Scavies” and deemed criminals by the government and the military would all too happily fire on any scavy ship they spotted. Seems they weren’t too happy about people rummaging through the wrecks of ships that once held their friends and the government would turn a blind eye if a scavy ship was destroyed during “Live Fire Exercises”.

Soon the jobs became even riskier and Outlying Star lost three ships after they were caught and destroyed. Another had to be sold for parts and salvage and now the final ship, the Morning Gale, was the last hope for Galem and Melp to make back some money.

“How do you even know this site hasn’t been picked clean already?” Melp asked over his shoulder as Galem entered the cockpit and locked the door behind him. “We could be wasting our time on a fantasy.” Galem shook his head which did little to ease Melp’s concerns.

“I got it from a reliable source that there was a big fight in the Glipi Cluster that we lost to the humans.” Galem began as he took the controls and slowly pulled back on the engine throttle as the ship ascended. “It was so embarrassing that the navy wiped all records of the battle and said the destroyed ships were lost in a freak transition from sub space into a rogue comet cluster.”

“If the data was wiped how does your source know about it?”  Melp quipped as the ship breached upper atmosphere and exited the travel lanes for the jump point.

Galem smirked as he engaged the sub space drive.

“They were there.”

 As the salvage ship exited sub space Melp let out a gasp. He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes yet when he opened them all he could see was a shroud of purple. Galem saw Melp’s confused expression and chuckled.

“It’s the color of the gas filtering through this entire cluster.” He said calmly as he flicked on several scanners and filter units. “Try looking now.”

Melp looked again as the shades of purple faded away and let out a startled gasp. Upon gazing out of the cockpit window he could see why the navy had wanted to cover up this place so badly.

Floating around them were dozens of lifeless wrecks of Mibari warships ranging from light destroyers to several cruisers. Compared to their tiny ship it was as if Melp and Galem had entered the realm of giants. Melp was transfixed by the wrecks and became utterly enthralled when a massive shadow draped across their vessel.

“Is that what I think it is?” Melp spoke sheepishly as his blue hands trembled and changed to a soft orange color. Galem leaned forward in his seat to look out the window and whistled as his eyes caught sight of what had terrified Melp.

“A galaxy class troop carrier.”

The massive ship spun slowly in place like a top that refused to stop spinning, the metal interior exposed in several places from weapons revealing a dark interior of metal supports and long dead hallways. Melp looked towards the front of the ship as the command deck slowly spun into view and he was surprised to see the name of the ship had survived the damage it had taken.

“The Vault of Ohya…” Melp softly spoke. He reached out with an arm and shook Galem who was smiling like a hatchling on birthing day. “That’s the Vault of Ohya!”

“A piece of her hull to the right collector would be enough to refurbish this little dingy,” Galem said as he playfully smacked the command console, “into one hell of a floating casino.”

The two of them broke down into fits of laughter as if they had just been driven mad by their findings; but it was not of madness that now drove them but the sheer joy of their discovery.

These dozen ships floating lifelessly in the cluster were more than enough to bring the two of them back into the life of luxury they once held and keep them there until their dying days.

Melp was still star gazing at the shattered troop carrier when something else suddenly grabbed his attention.

“What’s that?”

Melp tore his gaze away from the Ohya and saw what Galem was looking at.

A new vessel slowly drifted out of the shadow of the troop carrier and came into view. It was clearly a human vessel of some kind; the lack luster design a clear give away. The body of the ship was missing sections of itself, but rather than appearing as if it had been damaged in the battle it looked more as if the ship had not finished being built. Sections of the body were lacking armor showing a complex network of pipes and corridors. The hull was painted in a soft grey color that stood out sharply among the ever shifting gas cloud surrounding it. Rows of gun ports ran along the sides, their openings revealing nothing of the pitch black interior giving them the appearance of small gaping mouths ready to consume Melp and his ship.  

The more Melp looked at the ship the more he felt something was just wrong with it. Galem must have felt something as well as he pulled up the virtual display and began interacting with it.

“Not sure what that thing is but it’s not listed in the records.” He said as he closed the display and leaned over the controls to get a better view of it. The tingling feeling at the bottom of Melp’s three stomachs was starting to grow stronger as his uneasiness did not subside.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that there’s no record of that ship variant from the entire war with humanity on any recorded file.” He popped open the virtual display again and flicked it over so it was hovering in front of Melp to view while he fiddled with the controls again. “Which means it’s worth a whole lot more than anything here.”

“How do you figure that?” As a response to Melp’s question he waved his arm across the scattered wrecks.

“Out of all the ships here the human ones are all clustered around that one as if they meant to protect it.” Galem said as he began moving the ship closer to the strange human ship.

“They could have bugged out and ran, but instead they all fought and died just to protect that thing; which means something on it must’ve been worth defending.”

Melp knew what Galem had some merit, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still very wrong; but before he could raise his concerns though a loud shudder ran through the scavenger ship.

“Get your suit on,” Galem said as he exited out of the cockpit, “let’s go find us some treasure.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If the exterior of the ship had uneased Melp, the interior down right terrified him.

No sooner had the airlock door opened the two scavengers leaped back in shock. Standing at the entrance was a humanoid looking figure. Galem screamed and grabbed hold of a nearby cutting tool and swung it at the figure before Melp could even say anything.

A shower of sparks eradiated off the figure’s body as the plasma torch cut into it, all the while Galem was continuing to scream, and cut a decent size hole through the beings torso.

“Shut it!” Melp shouted at Galem, forcing the scared halfwit to calm down some while Melp inched closer and retrieved the still burning plasma torch. The figure had not moved and inch even as the torch had melted away his exterior and as Melp moved closer still he noticed why.

“It’s an automated drone you idiot.”

Melp motioned him forward and the two of them inspected the machine.

It was human shaped but it was entirely of metal and wires, a mindless drone used for menial tasks such as inventory handling or maintenance. It wore a human uniform for some reason which clashed with its blank reflective visor face.

“Why’s it standing here?” Galem asked as he nervously tapped the drone. The touch pushed it off the ground and the dead drone slowly lifted off the ground in the zero-g environment and floated back into the ship, bouncing off the back wall before continuing to silently float away.

“Maybe it’s here to greet us?” Melp chuckled as he activated his mag locks and his feet latched on to the metallic floor. Galem followed suit and the two began entering the derelict ship.

“Can’t be,” Galem began as they reached the airlock secondary doors and began slowly opening them, “these tin cans would run out of power in a day and it’s been years since this tussle went down.”

With several loud grunts as the two strained with the manual release the inner airlock to the human ship finally cracked open. The two entered slowly, not knowing what to expect, and took stock of their surroundings.

They entered a long hallway that seemed to stretch out far into the distance passed the reach of their head lamps. Melp could see side corridors scattered every few dozen feet no doubt leading to other sections of the ship, but likewise they too were pitch black.

Something about Melp’s comment made him pull out his data scroll and do a quick scan. The device beeped rapidly as the scan commenced before ending with a loud “DING” and displaying a waterfall of information.

Melp read the data as the two continued to hover by the airlock entrance.

“It says here that somethings still giving off a power signature here.” Melp commented as he ran he scan again to be sure.

“Give it here,” Galem said as he turned to Melp with his hand outstretched, “you must be reading it-“

When Galem didn’t finish his sentence Melp looked up and saw something akin to a mixture of fear and surprise on his face. He was staring at something over his shoulder so Melp slowly turned in place , his magnetic feet latching heavily to the decking with each step like two magnets smashing together.

When he finally turned around he let out a yelp of surprise and tried to jump back, but his magnetic feet kept him firmly locked to the floor leaving him in an almost comical off balance state.

Standing directly behind him was another of the drones, this one dressed in what appeared to be some sort of security uniform even including an empty weapon holster at his side.

Neither of the scavengers knew how the thing got there as it most certainly hadn’t been standing there a moment ago. Before either of them could respond the drone’s visor lit up and displayed a pixelated face.  The visor was damaged with a deep crack running the length of it making the display flicker in and out on half the screen giving it an eerily ghost like visage.

“The captain,” the drone began as it stepped to one side of the hallway and extended a hand into the darkness, “requests your presence on the bridge.”

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Masterlist Here

AO3 Link Here

‘Hello, Miya-san? Yes, please don’t worry, Shino-chan is fine, just that your husband hasn’t come to pick her up?’ the nervous childcare assistant murmurs her apologies as she hangs up, ready to dial Atsumu to chew him out for yet another display of his bloody lack of responsibility. But it’s no use because Atsumu’s number is engaged, and after five minutes, she gives it up as a lost cause and after a moment’s hesitation, dials the other number most used on her phone. 

‘Samu – I’m so sorry to trouble you, could you…? Yes – Atsumu forgot to pick her up again. I’m sorry – I’m at work so I can’t just step out… Thanks ‘Samu – I owe you again’. 

She sighs, leaning her head against the cubicle wall in her office toilet. Then she squares her shoulders before heading back to her cubicle, preparing to tackle the stack of work on her desk until office hours end.  

She picks Shino up from Onigiri Miya later that night, promising treats to her daughter to persuade her to give up her perch from Osamu’s neck. 

‘He’s an ass’, he tells her, voice heavy with sympathy, and she lets herself rest her head on his shoulder. 

‘Yes, you’ve told me that’, she responds with a tired smile. ‘Maybe I should’ve listened’. 

He pats her back, and she departs with Shino in hand.

A storm blows into the city from the sea, so she shutters the windows and locks the doors, but the house still shakes from the blitz of thunder and lightning. She rocks Shino to bed, and sings her to sleep amidst the gale wailing outside their walls. 

She can hear the jangle of keys and opens the front door to let Atsumu in. He ignores her baleful glare and shoulders his way in, dripping rainwater all over the floor. 

‘Well?’ she demands, hackles rising at his sullen silence. ‘Would you like to explain how you managed to forget to pick up your daughter from childcare today?’ 

‘It just slipped my mind, alright?!’, he replies, face arranged into a sneer, and with a few strides he’s already halfway to their room, back turned against her. ‘You don’t need to make a big fuss about everything all the time’, he says, his hand on the doorknob. 

‘Atsumu!’ she snaps, her fists clenched by her side. ‘Do you know how embarrassing it is for me to keep bothering Osamu to help clean up your messes? Could you dig deep and grow the fuck up so you can act like a decent husband and father for once? I wish I listened to Osamu when he warned me about you, even before we started going out’.

He whirls around and grabs her wrist in a painful grip, a blaze growing in his eyes. ‘All I ever hear from you these days is  Osamu this,  Osamu that. If goddamned Osamu is so fucking perfect, why didn’t you just marry him when you had the chance? It would’ve been easy enough to pass Shino off as his, aren’t I right?’ 

‘Maybe I should’ve - then I wouldn’t be in such a state’, she snarls, wrenching her wrist from his grasp. ‘But my fate was sealed the moment I was stupid enough to fall in love with you instead.’ 

He snorts through his nose, the sound bitter, twisted. ‘Well, the feeling ain’t mutual, darlin’. Who said I ever loved you?’ 

She reels back from the force of his words, the bruises on her wrist nothing  compared to those in her heart. His eyes widen in shock – but he does not take his words back. 

The rain turns the apartment freezing cold and she shudders, fighting the urge to shrink into herself, counting the seconds in the strained stillness between them before stepping tentatively towards him to cup his face in her hands. 

‘What’s with you, Atsumu?’ she asks, more gently this time. ‘This isn’t like you.’

Her words break his silence, and he sinks onto the couch with a groan, dropping his head in his hands. ‘I’ve been offered a chance to play in Italy for a year, and MSBY’s agreed to let me go for a season. I just haven’t told you yet’, he finally says, shoulders hunched. 

‘Are you going to accept it?’ She manages to ask, a lump of ice lodging itself at the back of her throat, choking the airflow to her lungs. 

He nods mutely, and a storm erupts in her heart.  

‘Gods, Atsumu. Does it mean nothing to you that you have a wife and child now? Couldn’t you have talked to me first before making such a move? You know I can’t just up and leave Japan with my job and Shino. Are you going to just get up and leave? What’s going to happen to us?’ 

‘I’m just tired of all of this, ok?’ He shouts, jumping to his feet, his tone sharp enough to pierce right through her heart. ‘We got married and had a kid so fuckin’ young, and there’s so much out there that I could be chasing that I wonder sometimes if all of this is a mistake’. 

‘You asked me to jump off a cliff. This is what you wanted, Atsumu, don’t you dare pin this on me!’ she screams back, not even bothering to staunch the bleeding from her multitude of wounds.  

He throws his head back and laughs, the sound drenched with bitterness and contempt. 

‘Osamu fuckin’ talked me into it – do you think I actually wanted all of this?’ he says, with a callousness she always knew he was capable of but never experienced first-hand. ‘I wish I'd never listened to him, I should’ve just stayed away. Then all of my problems – all of  this - would’ve never existed.’

His words finally strike the breath from her lungs, and she chokes, chilled to the bone, unable to speak as she watches him grab his bag and storm out of the house again. 

‘He’s not picking up my calls either’, Osamu tells her, when she drops by his store a day later. ‘I could hunt him down for you and beat some sense into his thick head’. 

‘Don’t bother’, she says, shaking her head. ‘He’ll resent me even more if you take my side again’. 

‘What are you going to do then?’ Osamu asks, the steam from freshly cooked rice rising between them. 

‘Come home’, her mother said when she called to break the news, her words ringing clear even over the cacophony of threats her older brothers make in the background about ‘slicing that bastard’s balls off with a knife’. She'd be lying if she said she weren't tempted by the promise of her family's support - her father had always taught her to run for the bamboo grove if there were ever an earthquake, to trust in the strength of the bamboo’s roots to hold the foundations of the earth in its place. But she’s built a career in the city, a life for her and Shino in a small apartment between buildings that seem to burst through the clouds in the sky, and she’s not sure she can walk away from all that just yet. 

‘I don’t know’, she says to Osamu. ‘I guess I’ll figure it out along the way’. 

Atsumu evades all of her attempts to talk through matters again, and a month later, he’s packed his bags, ready to get on a flight to Italy. He pauses to kiss Shino goodbye, and slips her two stuffed toys – a fox and a jackal, and she almost smiles at the sentimentality of it. Then he turns to her but does not look her in the eye. 

‘It’s ok to forget me as long as you remember that we have a child’, she says softly.   

He parts his lips to respond but decides against it, eyes hardening as he drops his set of house keys and his wedding ring on the countertop by the front door and storms off. 

She does not cry until Shino is safely tucked into bed, and she finds Atsumu’s old jacket, carelessly thrown in a heap at the back of the closet. She holds it close to her chest, breathing in the memories sewn into its seams, and lets herself finally break. 

‘Miya-san, I saw on the news that your husband is playing in Italy now. We’re all so surprised you didn’t go with him?’ Yuna-san asks in a too-loud voice, and she has to suppress a cringe when the rest of the office hyenas swoop in, hungry for a kill. 

‘We decided that I should stay in Japan to ensure Shino has some stability in her life’, she answers with a tight smile, the practiced statement she and Atsumu’s manager eventually agreed on spilling easily from her mouth. The ladies slink away, and she sighs in relief. 

Atsumu thankfully heeds her words and sends money and gifts to Shino, and even calls their little girl twice weekly, so she still manages to recognise her father - she’s grateful for that. 

He only responds to her texts once, when she messages him to let him know that Shino got admitted to the hospital for a high fever, but seemed to be responding well to treatment, and would be discharged the next day. He promised to pay the hospital bill, and said nothing more. She does not allow herself to be crushed by her disappointment and stops texting him after that. 

Osamu does his best to step in to fill Atsumu’s shoes in his absence, fetching Shino from childcare and letting her hang around his shop until she’s done with work. He spoils her with far too much affection and food, doling both out interchangeably, and his staff and customers treat the little girl like their mascot. 

‘Thank you for all of this’, she says one night, when Osamu insists on walking her and Shino home. ‘I’m sorry for making you clean up Atsumu’s mess.’ 

‘Don’t thank me. Sometimes I wonder if I should be blamed for stepping in to meddle with ‘Tsumu in the first place’ he responds with a strained laugh. 

‘Don’t be’, she responds, pressing a chaste kiss to Osamu’s cheek. ‘Your interference gave me Shino. I could never regret that’.  

But Osamu can never fully step into Atsumu’s place - they may look heartbreakingly similar but he is not her husband, a fact she’s painfully reminded of when they drive back to Hyogo to the Miya family home for Obon without Atsumu. She does her duty with her head held high and Shino strapped to her back, placing the offerings by the family graves, releasing lanterns down the lake to guide the Miya ancestral spirits back to the mortal realm, but the matriarch of the family sniffed her disapproval when Atsumu’s mother shakily informs her that he isn’t visiting this year. 

‘You’re his wife - what good are you for if you can’t even make your husband come back home’, the old lady snapped. 

She bent herself into a low bow to murmur a litany of apologies, shaking her head minutely at Osamu before he even tries to put his foot in his mouth in a misguided attempt to defend her - dear boy that he is, but he does not deserve the burden of his brother’s sins, and she will not let him go to battle for her when she can hold her own - until the old lady stalks off, only vaguely appeased. The smile on her face for the rest of the night is unflinching but she still cries herself to sleep because she hates herself for being so goddamned stupid  - it should have occurred to her that chasing Atsumu into the eye of the storm would leave her with nothing more than a ruined home and a broken heart. 

But when the morning dawns and the sunrise reflects its colours in her daughter’s eyes, she’s reminded afresh that she's a knife maker’s daughter, and her spine is forged with steel. So she hammers the pieces of her heart back together and does not let herself break again. 

The months pass and the pain recedes. It slowly becomes easier to breathe. 

[multifandomsimpster]

Flowers in the wind

Its my first time writing a ff and I gave it my best and my all, if you see something I can improve on please tell me so I can improve!! I made it gender neutral since I wasn’t sure who would read it or if it’ll even get read ;;

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You smelt of flowers…

Diluc could never forget that smell, it was almost as if it enchanted his very being, so faint, so delicate, only to be taken by the wind, quick and fleeting like you. Like a flower yourself you tended to them, handled them with utmost delicacy and care as if they would shatter with just one misplaced touch. Moving around watering them, tending to them, and like a flower in the wind you danced along with them.

He couldn’t remember when he started noticing your endeavors in his garden. He had sent for a gardener to be hired after noticing the lack of care the flowers had been receiving. Although he did not hire you himself, he remembers telling Elzer to do so because he was much too busy to deal with something of such minor significance. Yet he couldn’t help but notice how vibrant the garden's flowers had started to look, almost as if Barbatos himself had blessed them. They danced along to the gales tune and it was almost as if they were smiling at him.

He had first caught sight of you through his window while he was taking a small break from all the daunting paperwork he had been sorting through. He remembered faintly how your hair flowed in the spring breeze and the sun illuminated your skin. In one moment, it was as if his breath had been taken away and he must have been staring for too long, after all, you had felt his gaze on you. Turning around you caught his eyes and gave him a soft smile and waved at him which caught him off guard. He awkwardly waved back slightly flustered and not expecting you to see him, but oh archons did he wish to see that smile once again.

Now he had been walking in the garden more frequently just to see if he could catch a glimpse of you once more. It was childish of him to go seeking you out like this he thought, but despite this he never stopped to go back to his office. Lost in his thoughts of you he walked aimlessly in the garden.

“Master Diluc are you in need of any assistance?” your voice resonated from behind him cutting through the silence with a warm and friendly tone, one that sent chills down his back. He had been thinking about your voice for the past few days now, but oh archons nothing from his imagination could compare to the real thing and having been caught slightly off guard not expecting to meet you, he quickly regained his composure and turned to face you.

“Oh no not really, I was just strolling in the gardens to clear my mind.” He tilted his head slightly to look at you seemingly mesmerized by your rosy cheeks that were slightly covered in dirt and your stunning (y/c) eyes. The breeze seemed to bless him today by carrying your

flowery aroma towards him so he couldn’t help but take a deep breath and think to thank Venti later today. “Though I do believe I never did catch your name?”

“My apologies my name is (Y/N), a pleasure to meet you master Diluc!” Seeing you extend a hand to him with a smile that could surely rival the sun he grasped your hand in his. He couldn’t help but notice how your hand perfectly slotted into his as if they were made for each other, but quickly dismissing the thought he responded with his own small smile.

“A pleasure indeed, say would you like to accompany me to good hunter and grab some coffee?” He inquired making sure to quickly retract his hand not wanting to look weird, but oh the things he would do to hold your hand just a second longer. He already had you here, so he wasn’t about to lose this chance, after all, who knows when he might see you again considering all of his work in and out of the winery.

“O-oh sure but maybe I should change first considering I smell of dirt from working on the flowers?” Stuttering you responded looking down in a sudden spurt of shyness surely not expecting him to ask you out. Cheeks reddening as you quickly went to wipe the dirt off your face, but before you could you felt Diluc grab your wrist, quickly you looked up confused as to why he had stopped you, but before you could ask him, he pulled out a handkerchief from his coat pocket.

“Ah wait no I don’t want to stain it with dirt I can ju-”

“I don’t mind plus we wouldn’t want it to get dark now, would we?” He cut you off with a cheeky tone in his voice and a small smirk adorning his lips all the while quirking an eyebrow, staring deep into your eyes for what felt like hours but must have been only a few seconds. While returning to wipe your face he looked away. All he needed was a few seconds to entrance you with his hues of red like the velvety wine he sells and what’s to say you weren’t intoxicated?

“Well, shall we go?” Quickly snapping you out of your thoughts you hadn’t even felt him remove his hands from your face, cheeks flushing realizing all that had just gone down.

“I- um yes, let’s go!” you couldn’t help but want to hide away into the bottom of the sea at this point it’s only been a few minutes and you’ve embarrassed yourself enough times now, but

throughout your clumsy speech you heard a laugh ring through the air. Now you understood why the tavern was named Angel's Share, after all, only an angel could create a noise like that.

“Let’s go indeed.” Grabbing your hand, he started to walk, and you couldn’t help but to lace your fingers with his thinking that if you could hear that laughter everyday surely all days would be days where the flowers bloom.