#gale spears

[illegally-blind-and-deaf]

When you are deeply in love with a book but you don't have anyone to talk to about it because it's a church book (historical fiction based on religious peeps) and there is literally no fandom for it at all

*le cry*

[number-one-shadisper-shipper]

Behold my Sonic fankids!

Buckle up y'all I'm about to lore-drop

Dash the Hedgehog: Son of Sonic and Amy. He's a speedy, fun-loving kid with a big heart. Future hero of Mobius but for now is mostly having fun exploring with his dad and racing anyone he meets. Also has a hammer like Amy's, with which he can do cool tricks.

Mouse the Owl: Adopted daughter of Sonic and Amy. Found and brought home by Dash after her parents were killed by an Eggman scheme. She's really sweet and a bit shy, and is basically the equivalent of Tails for Dash. Best friends with Tikal.

Nova Prower: The girl that grew from Cosmo's seed. Raised by single dad Tails and is a great mechanic like him! Loves sunlight and nature and going on adventures with her Papa.

Ash the Cat: Son of Blaze and Silver and twin brother of Aura. As the crown prince chosen by the Sol Emeralds, he inherited Blaze's fire powers. He's very stoic and serious, taking his role as future king very seriously.

Aura the Hedgehog: Twin sister of Ash. Is far more spunky and playful, and tries to drag her brother out to do fun things instead of studying. Inherited Silver's telekinesis.

Knuckles the Bat-chidna, a.k.a. Knux: Firstborn son of Knuckles and Rouge. Relatively rare in having mixed species features rather than only taking after one. He's rather rebellious and doesn't want to take on the warrior lifestyle on Angel Island, preferring thievery.

Spear the Echidna: Second son of Knuckles and Rouge. Far more serious about his tribal heritage than his older brother, and because of this is next in line to take on the Guardianship of the Master Emerald. Devoted to the warriors lifestyle and protecting his family.

Jewel the Bat: Daughter of Knuckles and Rouge. Sweet and simple, well-trained in fighting but prefers not to. Is dedicated to finding all the secrets of Angel Island, taking care of its Chao population, and recording the history of the Echidna for future generations. Not named after Jewel the Beetle but they do become friends after realizing they share a name.

Hunter the Bat: Son of Knuckles and Rouge. Inherited both of his parents' treasure hunting tendencies and loves to explore. His wings grew in too small, making him the only member of his family who can't fly/glide, although he can hover for a short amount of time. That doesn't stop him from traveling all over the world! Honorary member of Team Kid Chaotix (the next generation of the Chaotix).

Tikal the Echidna: Youngest daughter of Knuckles and Rouge. Small and spunky! Is still a bit young for warrior training, but she's ready to go when she can! Loves animals and swimming and playing around Angel Island. Goddaughter of her namesake, and is able to interact with her and Chaos. Best friends with Mouse.

Night the Wolf: Son of Shadow and Whisper. Autistic and almost entirely non verbal. Is super powerful, with Shadow's abilities, but is very quiet, calm, and stoic. Because of his resting angry face, people think he's kind of grumpy like his dad, but he's actually pretty chill. Very close with his "cousin" Knux.

Maria the Hedgehog: Daughter of Shadow and Whisper. Fun, spunky, loud, and energetic. Basically has the energy and noise of the rest of the family combined. Loves to get into fights and Night constantly has to bail her out. Also has Shadow's abilities, especially running. Loves to run. Always has a different fun design on her T-shirt.

Mint the Bunny-dile: Daughter of Vector and Vanilla. Like Knux, is a rare mixed-species kid, although mostly crocodile. Is hard of hearing due to physical issues with the connection of rabbit ears with a crocodile head. Is very big and strong, sometimes not knowing her own strength. Sweet and a bit rough-and-tumble. Is a big proponent of body positivity due to being mixed-species as well as growing up around primarily mammal mobians who were a lot smaller than her at the same age.

Gale the Hawk: Daughter of Jet. Fast, cool, and a bit egotistical but ultimately good-hearted. Loves racing and pushing herself to learn new tricks and new types of racing. Like wearing the "retro" hand-me-downs from her Aunt Wave (okay actually I haven't decided if I ship Wave and Jet or see them as siblings so for now it's just "aunt")

Thanks for letting me ramble! Feel free to ask me about my babies 😁

[mumms-the-word]

alistair theirin polearm truthers 🤝 gale dekarios quarterstaff truthers

[waspgrave]

one of the weirder things i see people complain about gale is that he takes up too many resources. My man asks for like, what, 3??? artifacts at most before his condition changes. Act 1 is full of nothing but garbage artifacts, but people claim he's asking to eat their priceless raphael endorsed divine gucci heels that grant +2 dick rizz power. Insanity.

[deadrlngers]

i wish we lived in a world where each bg3 companion had a specific physique and height. i can't pretend thinking that all the guys are ripped and all the girls are skinny isn't doing mental damage to me

[greyias]

What if we kissed... 😳😳😳

in front of the giant statue of Shar?

[rigaudon]

someone's having an eventful evening.

[butchboromir]

ok yeah i tried doubling back to do whatever it was that shadowheart wanted and tbh. i do not care enough to do all of it. so back to the original save

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp prompt #13: Hell to Pay

They say there are only two things certain in life: death and taxes. That’s why even the Joker doesn’t fuck with the IRS.

However, unfortunately for the Joker the other certainty is death and he has yet to pay his dues. Just like how he could only get away with tax evasion for so long, there are only so many times the Joker can dodge death.

Death is coming to collect, with interest.

And the Joker will have hell to pay.

~ A dark green cloud swirls over the city. From it, emerge three oppressive figures:

The one on the far left with flowing hair like white-hot fire. His vambraces made of (what appeared to be) molten glass stopped under his fingers, which then extend into into claws that seemed to drip lava. He had spiked obsidian pauldrons on his shoulders, fastening a luminous, stark-white cape to his shoulders. He wore a coronet of lightning and wielded a flail that appeared to be made of coal chains and a shrunken Red Giant star.

The second on the far right had a helm of dark iron wreathed in a plume of purple flame. His gauntlets and sword flamed with green hellfire. A pure black sheath seemingly made of void and a silver hunting horn were tied to his waist. He wore an armor forged of shadows and proofed with fear. He rode atop a mighty stead. An inky dark stallion with a curved horn and bat-like wings. His form was constantly slightly shifting depending on the angle which you viewed him making him appear larger and more slippery than he was, enhancing his disquieting nature.

The third stood in the middle, smaller but no less terrifying than her companions. Her hair was wild with movement, only just visible because it appeared as if someone had bound the winds to her head. She wore a tiara made of storm clouds and pearls. She carried with her a spear, the shaft crafted of amazonite and the tip of a clear quartz, almost reminiscent of sea salt. At her hip lay a whip made of a restrained gale and a sea glass knife. She wore armor that appeared to be Greco-Roman in origin: a chest plate made of some sort of coral-like material and a battle skirt decorated with metallic bronze feathers.

They slowly descent on the city, bringing down a sense of power and dread. They paused at the top of Wayne Tower, where the city's vigilantes had all gathered in an attempt to create and feasible plan of action to discern what these beings want. The young woman in the middle speaks and the wind carries her voice. She is not loud but it the whole of Gotham hears her words.

"Greetings, Heroes of Gotham. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Spirit, Princess and Head Diplomat of the Infinite Realms. This is Samhain, the Fright Knight, loyal knight to the king,” she gestured to her right before switching to her left “and this is Prince Wraith, current General in Chief of the Realms. We come to you as the King’s Guard and entourage. We have official business in your city and wish to civilly notify you of our presence. The King will be arriving shortly and your cooperation would be great fully received.”

Batman moved forward to shake her hand and address the situation.

“I’m afraid that we prefer not to have unknowns operating within the city. Would you be able to tell us what business you have here? Perhaps we could reach an agreement?” Batman tried to negotiate as politely as he could. He did not want to risk offending the evidently powerful beings.

Princess Spirit’s smile sharpened as she thrummed her finger against her knife. She spoke again with an unnervingly pleasant tone.

“It appears you do not understand. We are not asking for your permission.” Her grip around his hand tightened. “ We are informing you.” She finished releasing his hand.

Batman withdrew his aching hand and regarded her with the beginnings of a protest on his lips. She didn’t allow him to speak.

“ This is out of your jurisdiction Batman. This is a matter of the Realms and the Afterlife. Whatever worldly rules or morals you wish to impose on those who enter this city do not apply to us. We will do our best to work within them, so as to appease you and to attempt to maintain a friendly relationship but in the macrocosm of the multiverse and afterlives you have no official power over us. Additionally, we have direct permission to operate here however we see fit from the City Spirit herself, Lady Gotham.”

Batman’s shadow seemed to fluctuated. His and his team's shadows moved from beneath them, closer to the Princess. Lady Gotham, though not manifesting, was making her presence and approval known. Batman could not deny what he was seeing. His team shifted uncomfortably behind him. He appealed to her once more.

“ I see that we can’t stop you. We don’t want to get in your way either. Could you at least tell us why you are here?”

She smiled as if telling a joke, “All will be revealed in time”

Suddenly, there was a loud noise that sounded like tearing fabric. The green clouds mixed with purples and blues and began to churn faster. The cyclone emitted a flashes of bright light. In unison all three of the King’s Guard lifted up from the roof and took place underneath the eye of the wind storm.

Spirit holds her spear aloft. With one swift, commanding move she slams the butt of her spear down, creating a platform out of solidified air.

Wraith bellows out smoke and ash onto the platform to discolor it. With ferocious and precise movements his claws to carve in a sigil, leaving a soft orange glow against the black and gray.

Samhain sheathes his sword and pulls his horn from his waist. He wills his dark stead to rear up as he blows the horn, letting out one loud prolonged cry.

The three warriors stand at attention and Princess Spirit calls the winds to project her voice once more.

“ Now introducing the Ruler of the Infinite Realms, High King of the In-Between, The Great One, The Benevolent King, The Peace Maker, The Guardian of Souls, The One with the Cloak of Stars and the Crown of Frozen Light, The Perfect Balance, Ancient of Space and Reality, The Infinite King: Phantom!”

With a flash of white light a figure appear in the center of the platform. Simultaneously, the three knights bow in reverence.

The King has arrived.

As the Heroes of Gotham regain clear vision they are met with a striking figure.

There stood a toned young man appearing both boyishly young, yet wisened and weathered. He had side swept hair the creeped to the bottom of his neck. His skin was pale with an icy blue tint. He opened his eyes to reveal they shone an electric green. Upon his head rest a crown made of a crystalline material, reminiscent of an aurora. He wore a navy blue cloak that had a rich purple hood lined with stark white fur. The underside displayed a shifting galaxy pattern. His under suit was the same midnight black as Samhain’s. He donned golden arm bands and a gold chest plate in style quite similar to Spirit’s. His hand were covered in snow white gauntlets that matched Wraith’s vambraces.

They all stood in awe, beholden to the almost divine figure.

The king sent them a gentle smile. It was warm and comforting yet sent a chill down their shoulders.

King Phantom began to fly down toward the center of the city, his entourage fell into step behind him. He hovered several hundred feet over Wayne tower and looked down at the city. He then spoke in a booming voice, his tone kind but commanding.

“ I humbly greet the Lady Gotham, her champions, and her citizens,” the shadows curled toward him appreciatively. “ I am grateful for your cooperation in our effort to rectify a great injustice. As High King of the Infinite Realms it is one of my duties to preside over the afterlife. To bring guidance, peace, and justice to the souls under my jurisdiction. Recently, it has been brought to my attention that there is a soul among you who has not only dodged death, but caused great strife to a vast number of souls who call for justice.”

On the roof of Wayne Enterprises Jason and Damian both stiffen, but remain firm in their gaze toward the king. The king looks out at the city and sparing them the quickest of glances. He continues onward.

“ The man formerly know as Jack Napier, now called The Joker. He has avoided death on many an occasion but his life should have ended moment he fell into a vat of chemicals. Since then he has sent hundreds more to the afterlife. He has long yet to pay his dues. That is why on the behalf of justice, restoring balance, and of my subjects I officially condemn Jack Napier.”

“Jack Napier, you have been allowed 24 hours turn yourself into our custody in order to be put on trial for your crimes in the Infinite Realms. Should you fail to turn youself in, we shall take that as an admission of guilt and acceptance to be punished for your actions. After the 24 hours are up, Samhain shall use his horn to summon The Hunt and we shall track you down.”

His gaze passed specifically over Red Hood, one of the Oracle’s drones, Nightwing, Signal, Red Robin, and Batman before he spoke his next words.

“All those souls who have been wronged by the Joker, both living and deceased, who wish to have a hand in their justice have been invited to join The Hunt if they so choose.”

The king lifted his hand, calling the swirling green clouds to his gather in his palm. The clouds swiftly rearranged themselves into a smokey timer hanging in the sky.

An impish smirk graced King Phantom’s face as he let out a malicious laugh and gave his final decree.

“ Your time begins now!”

[draconic-desire]

hiiiii ive been brainrotting abt sunday and his triple face god thing abababah thinking abt him handcuffing reader and interrogating them with the truth thing he does to aventurine ARGHH omg questioning abt who they were with cos hes jealousssss AUGH you dont have to write anything off of this i just hope this inspires you ily

oh you have read my MIND. I’m currently in the middle of writing a fic with dr ratio interrogating reader like he did with mx. stellaron…but now imagining that with sunday?? wow.

i’m totally normal about this man. i swear.

Yan!Sunday x Gn!Reader

Fingers drum on the table, the only break in the suffocating silence engulfing the room.

“I’ll ask you one. Last. Time.” Sunday punctuates each word with another tap of his finger, and you gasp as you feel the Harmony sink its influence another inch further into your skull.

Despite the futility, despite knowing you’ve been trying the same thing over and over again for the past half an hour, you pull at your restraints. The metal chain of the handcuffs skitters along the table, the sound like nails on a chalkboard, but it does not budge from its steel attachment. You’re firmly and inescapably chained to the table in Sunday’s office, with said perpetrator sitting opposite.

He appears calm, but you’ve learned to notice the slight twitch of his eye, the falter in his normal smirk. His patience is one wrong answer away from shattering.

At your silence, he leans back in his chair, shaking his head. His golden gaze is chastising, almost disappointed. “Angel, you know I don’t want to hurt you. Just tell me who you were with.”

You only glare at him in response. Bullshit. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s forced truths out of you or affections upon you through the Harmony. The psychedelic pest in your brain is almost the norm by now, a poison he has slowly been feeding you.

Oh, Triple Faced-Soul, please sear their tongue and palms with a hot iron, so that they will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows.

Those words are branded into the flesh of your brain, your soul. And tonight, if you tell him what he wants, even more blood will be spilled.

Sunday’s jealously is as calculating as he is. It’s a knife poised at the right angle to spear you, to pin you with accusations that you can’t talk your way out of.

Like in this instance, where he has deluded himself into thinking you are trying to leave him. He’s finally let you out of Dewlight Pavilion (you’ve learned that trying to escape the dreamscape is pointless, so you’ll take your freedoms when you can), and this is the first reaction you’re met with? Being dragged to his office as soon as you returned and invaded, prodded, and violated by the Harmony?

The pressure around your temples tightens another fraction, and you cannot stop the pained cry that escapes you. Rainbow streaks cloud your vision and practically pull the words from your mouth. “I was with friends! We were at the Dreamjolt Hosterly for a couple drinks, that’s it!”

Sunday merely hums as he stands and pads towards you, taking a position at your back. You’re unable to turn around to face him, but you can feel the weight of his presence, the promise of his power, as he wraps a hand around the back of your neck.

His breath tickles the shell of your ear as he leans in and whispers, “Liar.”

One word chills your blood to ice. “I’m not!”

The grip around your neck tightens in tandem with the pressure in your head. “Do you really think you can evade me, (Y/n)? My gales are perched in every region of Penacony, and THEY are by my side. THEY see all, hear all, know all.”

As if on cue, the Harmony rips through your consciousness, and it takes all your willpower not to pass out. Exhausted, you involuntarily lean back into Sunday’s hand, which seems to please him. “Now, tell me the name of the man who dared to touch what is mine.”

Clenching your eyes shut, you shake your head. You’re out of breath and stumbling along your words. “He was just being friendly, and he was drunk, we all were, and all he did was kiss my cheek; it was a dare, and I swear to you, Sunday, we’re just friends—”

“(Y/n),” Sunday interrupts. “His name.”

The finality in the Family head’s words sends your heart plummeting. You feel your resolve slip as the Harmony tightens its grip and goes in for the kill. You speak the name aloud, barely a whisper, and know that you’ve just delivered the man’s fate.

In your half-conscious state, you barely register Sunday removing your cuffs and scooping you into his arms. He tucks you into his chest bridal-style, his wings fluttering across your face. “You did well, my angel.”

“Please,” you breathe, your voice wobbly with tears, even as you feel the Harmony retreat from your senses—for now. “Don’t hurt him.”

Sunday merely leans his head down to place a kiss along your temple. “Enough of that,” he scolds. “The only man you should be thinking about is me. After all, it is an angel’s duty to obey their god without question.”

And Sunday is, if anything, a vengeful god.

For that night was the last that you ever saw your friend. Death in dreams was your only reality.

[moonselune]

Hello there, hope you're having a good day!

Can I please get an Astarion x fem reader story where the reader gets injured when out of camp. Astarion finds them, and brings them back to camp to treat their wounds. Thank you in advance!

Something about writing an injured Tav just 😙👌

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion x f!reader | Injured

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the forest floor as you stumbled through the underbrush. Your side throbbed where the bandit's blade had caught you, the wound deeper than you initially realized. You cursed under your breath, clutching the makeshift bandage you had wrapped around yourself. Each step sent a jolt of pain through your body, and you knew you needed help soon.

You had strayed too far from camp, chasing after a lead on some supplies the group desperately needed. Now, you regretted your decision as you struggled to make your way back, your vision blurring with every passing moment.

As you broke through the last of the trees, the sight of the campfire flickering in the distance was a welcome relief. You could see Astarion standing near the edge of the camp, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. The moment he spotted you, his expression shifted from casual boredom to intense worry.

"Where in the Nine Hells have you been?" Astarion exclaimed, rushing to your side as you collapsed onto your knees. His eyes widened as he saw the blood soaking through your bandage. "What happened?"

"Good evening to you too, my darling" You tried to muster a reassuring smile but winced instead. "Got into a bit of trouble… nothing I couldn't handle."

"Nothing you couldn't handle? You look like you've been through a meat grinder!" he snapped, his hands already working to support you as he guided you back to the campfire. "Honestly, do you have any sense of self-preservation?"

You groaned as he helped you to a bedroll, the pain intensifying with each movement. "I didn't expect to run into bandits," you muttered, feeling a bit defensive.

Astarion knelt beside you, his movements surprisingly gentle as he inspected your wound. "Of course not, because that would involve some forethought and caution," he retorted, his voice laced with frustration. "You could have been killed!"

You couldn't help but smile at his concern, despite the pain. "Astarion, your softer side is showing, people might start believing you love me more than yourself"

He shot you a withering look, not in the mood for your teasing. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm merely annoyed that you seem determined to get yourself killed before I can even enjoy a proper meal tonight. I mean look at all this blood- wasted!"

You chuckled, then winced as the movement jostled your wound. Astarion scowled, but you could see the worry etched in his features. "Hold still," he ordered, carefully unwrapping your makeshift bandage. "I need to clean this properly."

You hissed as the cool night air hit your exposed wound, but you forced yourself to remain still. Astarion's hands were surprisingly steady as he cleaned the cut, his touch gentle despite his earlier harsh words. Astarion was absolutely the last person you expected to be such a good healer, you had literally seen him step over a speared Gale, with a pathetic excuse of not knowing how to open the healing potion bottle.

"You know," you said, trying to distract yourself from the pain, "for someone who claims not to care about the process of mortal healing, you're awfully good at this."

He paused, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of exasperation and something softer. "It's a skill born out of necessity," he replied quietly. "When you've lived as long as I have, you learn a few things about tending to wounds."

You watched him work, noting the way his brow furrowed in concentration. "Thank you, Astarion," you said sincerely. "I appreciate it."

He huffed, but you could see the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Just try not to make a habit of this, will you my love?"

As he finished bandaging your wound, you couldn't hide your smile, you had earned back your endearment privileges again. You reached out to touch his hand. "I'll try to be more careful next time."

He squeezed your hand gently, his expression softening. "I'll hold you to that," he said, his tone begrudgingly affectionate. "But for now, just let me take care of you without any fuss and no more wasting blood, understood?"

You nodded, smiling up at him. "Understood."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

I realised writing this Sasstarion came out more than lover Astarion - whoops, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :))) - Seluney x

[vigilskeep]

“civil militia” is a bg3 feature for humans and half-elves that i really love from a worldbuilding perspective, giving them proficiency with light armour, shields, and long weapons like spears, pikes, etc. it happens to be very useful for a class like wizard, allowing them some extra AC and potentially other bonuses because they can use a shield with their off-hand. but the idea that gale could actually be summoned into a civil militia and has received training for that purpose is SO funny

[avocado-writing]

Today is my birthday, so I was wondering what would each party member from BG3 do for your birthday?Maybe a little nsfw afterwards?😏

Astarion

probably takes you out shopping! do not ask where he got the money to do this from, you don't want to know the answer. it probably wasn't earned honestly. but he's still happy to drop a small fortune on you, dressing you up in lots of lovely clothes and jewellery, taking you for lunch at the nicest place in Baldur's Gate. he doesn't eat of course, but you can tell how pleased he is just watching you enjoy little sandwiches and delicious slices of cake. he spears jam and sponge on the fork and feeds it to you sensually, eyes flashing with delight as he sees the way you lick your lips for him.

he cannot even wait to get you back to somewhere private. you abscond behind the cafe and he has you up against the wall. the stonework digs into your back delightfully as your legs wrap around his waist, he fucks into you so enthusiastically that he has to smother your moans with his hand so that you don't get caught. he whispers dirty things into your ear the whole time. but the day finishes with you watching the sunset together. he loves how you look, bathed in orange light. you'd love for this day to last a lifetime.

Gale

plans a very elaborate birthday meal which he invites all of your friends to. he is prepping for days in advance, finding out all of your favourite dishes and working on perfecting each one of them (tara keeps you distracted so that you don't catch on...) on the day, he buys you a lot of books for presents, ones he heard you mention wanting to read ages ago and kept in his mind for a special occasion. you feel thoroughly spoiled by all of the effort that he's put in, the the birthday cake he baked you is the most delicious thing you've ever tasted.

that night, when the guests have finally left, he probably has something a bit kinky planned, maybe something you've wanted to explore with him for a while. perhaps it's a... creative use of evard's black tentacles, or a magic double of himself to join in the fun, one thing you can be sure of is that you're exhausted and very pleased by the end of the evening.

Wyll

if he's duke he plans a big celebration for you. dancing, feasting, musicians, all of your favourite things dialed up to 11, no expense spared. has a special outfit tailor-made for you in your favourite colour. you spend the whole evening with your favourite people and are constantly dancing with your beloved husband. he can't keep his hands off you, and as the two of you waltz, he keeps whispering sweet nothings into your ear... how lovely you look, how radiant you are, how he can't wait to get you alone later tonight... by the time the event winds down you're a total mess with the promise of him.

and he does not disappoint. he beds you in the most sensual way possible, ekeing out your pleasure for as long as he can. paying extra attention to you with his mouth and fingers, encouraging you to grab onto his horns in order to direct him where you want him. the whole time he praises everything about you, says how lucky he is, how he can't get enough of you. you have more orgasms that night than you've ever had before.

Karlach

if you're in hell, she does her best. maybe enlists your friends to help her organise something, getting you a load of presents. she knows she can't hold you some big party like you deserve. or maybe withers comes in clutch again! he and karlach plan a little get-together with your friends for you so that you can be surrounded with people you love. alternatively, if you're still in Baldur's Gate, she just makes a big list of all your favourite things and goes through them. probably would take you to a circus. to a fancy restaurant for dinner. maybe a picnic by the river, just the two of you watching the ducks? whatever she chooses it is perfect.

now, let's be real. she straps you down if you're into it. gets the biggest, most interesting dildo you've ever seen and milks orgasms out of you all night. you're a mewling, sweating mess by the time she's done with you. and gods, if you use it on her afterwards? (if you already have a dick, filling both her holes??) oh, she agrees it's the best birthday ever and it's not even hers.

Lae'zel

probably has to take her time planning, and swallowing her pride to ask the other companions what is best to do. githyanki don't really do birthdays. she has to go to great pains working out what you might like. in the end it's probably something like she sets up a little dinner for the two of you in a secluded spot looking over the city, where the two of you can be alone and unbothered by everyone harassing you. taking the weight of responsbility off of your shoulders for a brief time. she buys you a weapon, probably, a really good one, masterwork - something she had commissioned and was refining herself. it's the most thoughtful thing she's ever given anyone.

at night she takes you somewhere you can be alone. books out a room for the both of you at the inn, so you can make as much noise as you want. and you do. she plays your body like an instrument, and you come over and over again under her hands. she's smug afterwards, your pleasure begetting her own.

Shadowheart

she's probably not great at birthdays, as she wasn't encouraged to really celebrate them much as she grew up under Shar. she gently coaxes out of you what you might want to do to celebrate for months in advance and plans around that. maybe you go on a little wine-tasting course. or perhaps Baldur's Gate has a cat cafe, and the two of you spend the whole day there, just snuggling with kittens. perhaps you both get attached to one and decide to adopt it, too... what harm can more pets around do? she's constantly giving you little kisses and telling you she loves you, her cheeks pink and words sincere.

that night she's bought herself a set of lingerie in your favourite colour for you to enjoy, taking off each lacy item in a tease for you... or maybe leaving them on as you make love. she's got a couple of new toys to tease you with too, something magical perhaps, which really spices up the evening. you fall asleep in each other's arms either way, blissed out and happy.

taglist: @ghosti02art@sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13@trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling@wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget @hopeful-n-sad

[shinjisdone]

𝑇𝜎 𝑆𝜎𝑓𝜏𝜀𝜋 𝛼 𝑊𝛼𝑟𝑟𝜄𝜎𝑟’𝑠 𝐻𝜀𝛼𝑟𝜏 (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn - 𝑺𝒍𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑨𝒓𝒄, 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟏)

In which you have joined Askeladd’s band…and grow closer to the Son of Thors - though as your future seemed promising, his thirst for revenge devastated all that you had left.

[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet Thorfinn again after he shattered your heart (based on season 2; both platonic and romantic)

Sᴇᴀsᴏɴ ₁ ﹙Wᴀʀ Aʀᴄ﹚ is here

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@luopenis , @jinsecho , @mitsureigen , @theknightssecrets , @lana-del-stan , @theghostofanficpresent

[Mentions of murder, death, war, slave trade, harrasment against women and whatever awful things happened in the viking era. Slavery will be a main subject throughout the entire arc. Mostly gender-neutral examples but female-leaning ones are there, too.]

[This part will specifically mention: Nightmares, detailed gore and killing, slavery, humiliation, hallucinations, slight romanticization of death/wishing someone to be dead, slight panic]

Time And Time Again, My Hopes Are Gone...

Far west, across the sea is a land. Rich of fertile ground and warm all year round. He can see the stillness of the meadow as the wind softly blows through the trees.

The wilderness is untouched. Far away from slave traders and the flames of war. The sun is benign with its rays that gently fall on his skin. It's warm and quiet. A gale so soft it embraces his throbbing pain.

Far to the west, across the rich and green hill, is a figure drawing closer. Colors clashing with the soft sky and land, washed out compared to the world around him. Nevertheless, he feels his heart picking up on speed and appraoches the figure with painstakingly slow steps.

The colors and the gear are still the same. Old and bented, abused and dull and so was the glare in their eyes. He should not feel a thing here, knowing this gaze all too well, but it still festered fear inside his heart when it is directed at him. The clear blue sky grows red and the sun fled.

Still, somehow he was able to crack a strained, faltering smile. "...What are you doing here?" He needed to take a deep breath, "You still look the same...like yesterd-"

"What the hell are you talking about, dog?"

The feigning smile was wiped off his face in an instant as his eyes widened. He could feel his muscles aching again, his stomach grumbling, his heart shattering.

You looked at him with such distain in your eyes.

It's Like A Never-Ending Marathon...

"How can you even act like this? Does all of this mean nothing to you?"

His breath hitched in his throat, burning hot and sickening as the quietness of the world was cut down by the incoming roars emerging from the scenery behind you. Pumping up their spears and axes, they tainted the meadow red as small figures galloped across the sky. The fires were following closely after them.

"You left...left me, and left this massacre behind you as you trailed over the sea."

Chants of victories rung in his ears as the flames consumed the both of you. The herd of men loud and clear but always seemed too far to touch and reach. There you still stood, your glare as dark as thunder and never-changing.

"Coward. Deranged mutt. Calling yourself a warrior."

Jaw agape, he watched with white, bulging eyes the scene behind you. It was all too familiar that it should have kick in an instinct - but all he could feel was terror.

With a swift pull to your back, you drew the blade out before plunging it with a sprint down to his abdomen. He barely could let out a scream. Instead, wide agape, he looked down with darting eyes to see his father's dagger.

A crooked grin decorated your visage as you twisted the dagger, cut further, deeper horizontally before yanking it out. Blood tainted your skin.

He could feel himself fall. Fall longer, deeper, faster, down, down, down, and down before a scream pulled him out.

I Hear Voices Every Night Of The Ones I Left Behind...

The same quietness he dreamed about surrounds him in the hut. No, a barn it was. It didn't have a door and he constantly reeked of hay and manure.

Right - this was the barn on the farm.

Sluggishly, he got up as pieces of hay fell off his worn out tunic. With a slow and steady gate his legs carried him to the well standing still and cold in the early morning, the sun having risen just a moment ago as well. He reached out with rough and calloused hands to the cold water and splashed it on his face. Always three times at least as the master told him. With each splash, his mind and vision got clearer and finally, he breathed freely.

What a strange nightmare. This hollow feeling expanding in his heart remained even in the waking world but he cannot recall from what.

As the sun rose higher, he made his way over the dirty, sandy road. Not a lot of the others were up and about as he was, though he only paid attention to the forest further away. The tired mutters of greetings flew over him, like a leaf in the cold wind. All he needed was the axe.

The axe cuts. It hits the sturdy trunk, chopping it away bit by bit, splinters of wood occasionally digging into his skin. Though it was as thick as the trees themselves, so no one ever heard a complaint from him.

The axe cuts. No tree shrieks in pain nor does anyone raise a brow at the lone man in the forest letting one tree fall after another. It keeps him awake and his muscles at work.

The axe cuts. The trees die and fall like flies, slowly - as it is with tree felling, he was told - down to every last twig and root it bears. Nothing can be left behind as the master wished it. All needs to be cleaned off the land so he can use it. So he cut and cut and cut.

"Thorfinn!"

Thorfinn halted. Stopped in his tracks as he was told and looked up through lidded, droopy, brown eyes. In the distance he saw a hand waving as the master galloped closer and with him, a younger slave.

Getting off the mount, he steadied his fall. Master Ketil was an older and seasoned farmer. His blonde hair growing thinner, broad but kind face decorated with wrinkles and his wealth showing in his round stomach. Once again, as he often does, he approached Thorfinn with a smile. "You will be getting a friend." Then he pointed behind him and the youngling followed hastily to bow. "This is Einar and he will be helping you starting tomorrow to fell the trees and turn it into fertile farm land. Einar, Thorfinn has been doing this for a bit longer than a year, he will show you around."

Brown eyes followed the man's gesture and fell on the younger one with kempt, auburn hair. Face young and with no stubbles, a small wart at the side of his nose - finished with an nervous and perplexed expression.

His own looked deep into the one of his new companion and found nothing but vapidness in them.

"Oh, uhm...it's nice to meet you." Einar tried to crack a smile. Thorfinn did not.

With a small chuckle of his own, Ketil pointed towards the small forest, talking of an subject Thorfinn had heard of time and time again.

Talks of fertile land, of wheat, of buying and selling, surpassing ones own price and freedom.

Freedom.

Did he have any of that ever in the first place? He doubted it.

But the new guy had a different opinion of it.

"Buying ourselves back?!" Einar stuttered, not believing what the farmer had just uttered, "We can get our freedom back if we just plant and sell the wheat to you?!"

Ketil jumped and blinked in surprise. "Why...yes. Does that not sound like a good deal to you?" "It's not that! N-Not at all! Thank you, thank you so much! I'll gratefully take the offer!"

Without another word, Einar sprinted deeper into the forest. Sighing heavily, Ketil settled back on his mount, ready to go back. "Do show him around for today Thorfinn and don't have him slack off after that. Both of you have a lot of work to do."

The blonde looked back at him with lidded eyes.

"Yes, master."

Dragging himself after the brunette, the young man watched him observe the area in awe. Trees loomed over the two and Einar swiftly turned back to the shorter man, his jaw agape.

"Thorfinn, was it?! Is that something you can do here in Denmark?! You - You can buy yourself out of slavery?!"

That I Love...

In the midmorning, Einar couldn't sit still.

Strenuously, he mimicked Thorfinn's day-to-day work. Inspecting each tree and root, yanking on them with his bare hands in hopes it might detach just a bit, and throwing questions.

Thorfinn found his keenness perplexing.

At noon, Einar awaited food.

Hearing about the service of the helpers, paid guests helping and guarding Ketil's farm, he grew ever so keen again. The helpers were not the kindest folk and seemingly the most hungry as well.

"What is there to complain?" One sneered as he appraoched Einar. The latter showed the crumbles and nibbled cheese in his rough hands instead. "This, this is our food? How is this supposed to be enough for two people? And it was obviously gnawed on!"

"So?" The second man of the trio sauntered closer with a wide grin. "Slaves like you should be grateful you can even eat a day. For someone so small and little, you sure talk big. We helpers wake up each and every day to bring food to lowly rats like you! And none of you even have the brains on how to thank someone for it!"

With a shaking gasp, Einar stepped back. The mere tone. The way the spit splashed on his face as he talks with that knowing glint in his dull eyes.

How could someone be like that? Just a year ago, he was surrounded by normal people, a village and family.

Once again, the helper spits as he scoffed. "Say it, dog," The grin grew ever so crooked as Einar's shock quickly transformed into rage. "Say 'thank you for the food'."

Breath hitched as the brunette took everything within him not to batter the man here and there. Balling a fist, he pulled back - before a smaller figure squeezed himself between the men and held out the crumbs of bread in his hands.

Thorfinn avoided the helper's gaze and looked down, as if giving a woeful prayer. "We thank you for the food."

Einar observed the tension dissolving, face that of an fish out of water, as Thorfinn returned to his work as if nothing happened.

In the afternoon, Einar hauled a sack of hay on his shoulder, heart feeling disarrayed.

Up ahead he followed Thorfinn who carried two sacks on his shoulders. He wondered how he does it despite his shorter and hunched form.

In fact, the blonde always seemed to hunch so far. He wondered how he does the entire labourous work in the first place.

"...How can you do all of this so easily? And with an empty stomach, too, day in and out. Chopping off the trees and then hauling them off the ground...like that old donkey was of any help." He pouted at the memory of the helpers bringing in an old, weak horse as 'aid' while they snoozed under the trees, "And you were so obedient to these jerks, too."

The walk continued to be quiet. The brunette continued to pout, making an even longer face at the one-sided conversation.

"You know, you can report that to the master! No, we should, have to do that! We are his property and these jerks treated us like were are lesser than that! He should know how his slaves are being treated and get rid of these pigs!"

The walk was silent after that as well. Thorfinn did not turn his back away neither show any sign of taking in his words. Einar only pouted even more and bit his tongue - momentarily.

"You're really strange."

As if struck by lightning, the blonde stopped. A force jolted through his muscles and bones that almost threatened to have him let go of the hay. The same force took a hold of his heart, like a fist squeezing it so tight with the intent to kill him. It won't let go.

Calming down from the start, Einar sped up in front of him with raised brows. The blonde's face was frozen in fear.

"...Thorfinn...?"

"What did you just say?"

"Uh," Quickly, he stepped back. Even the way Thorfinn managed to utter the question, jaw agape and frozen as well, perplexed him. "I said you're strange. Like, it's not like I dislike you it's just…just that I thought we could talk more. You're so quiet all the time but then get so obedient around these jerks but then act like you don't care-"

Agonizingly slow does he regain his body. With each word Einar spoke, Thorfinn nodded along, listened and had it ring in his head like a chant. Just as slow, he began walking again. "...I really am, aren't I?" He muttered after taking a deep breath.

"Eh, uhm, what?"

"Strange..."

I'm Trying To Find The Place Where I Belong...

Thorfinn was allowed to call it a day early for teaching Einar.

Today's chores were almost completed anyway with how tenacious his new companion had been. It was an insistence he could not comprehend.

The brunette did not expect much when Thorfinn showed him the way to the small barn, pointing to the heaps of hay and buckets at the corners. The master's house was across the road at least and the well free for him to use.

Einar also expected not much from his peer, as he had learned today when he quickly dozed off. He believed him to be anyway, when he stayed silent through all his questions.

Einar was strange...but the blonde reckoned he was, too.

That night, his visions turned into nightmares once again - but only to be left forgotten again in the morning.

A dark blue sea and an equally dark sky above. The wrath of the gods over the clouds and a hoard of monsters waging further away. He found himself lucky he wasn't so close.

But that relief was cut short by the freezing pain in his abdomen, as he looked down at you, teeth gritting like a beast. When did he grow taller than you?

He always thought you were the same height. Or were you the taller one?

With a growl, you swayed back with the dagger out of his flesh and thrusted it into it again. Labored breaths tried to escaped your gritted teeth, nosetrils flaring up as you only scolwed at him. With great effort and little strength, you drew the blade back and stabbed him again.

"Liar..." You croaked out, the smallest of hints of tears in your eyes, "This isn't where we're supposed to be. You liar..." Another sob and another attack. Blood oozed out of his open stomach like a broken spring and while the pain was unbearable, Thorfinn remained standing.

"You were supposed to take me somewhere that isn't here!"

He watched with terror as you drowned in his blood.

Einar shot up at the ear-splitting shriek. He wondered how none of the master's family had heard.

All he vividly remembered on his first night on the farm as a slave, was Thorfinn feeling up his abdomen in a mad frenzy, his eyes wide and jaw agape in a silent scream.

Until I Do, I Guess I'll Carry On...

The sun rises and the reek of manure still dwells in his nose. Einar was not dreaming of the farm.

But as he followed Thorfinn's demure figure, anxiously keeping up with his chores and strength, he cannot keep his eyes off of him. Of this strange guy and his hushed whispers in the night.

Again, he observed and stayed back this time as the blonde accepted the spit thrown on his face and food. The amount of labor he carries on his broken back with an lost look in his eyes.

So small and dry, brown so hazy and milky, he wonders if he can even see.

Einar stays back and listens as the master and his employers give him more work, more duties, more praises, more insults. He takes it all the same.

Then, at the setting of the sun, the young man still stays back and watches with the rest of the slaves nearby as Thorfinn dropped all he had carried diligently to the master, and sprinted to a small person further away.

His heart beat in his ears, ringing against his skull and Einar found himself surprised as he prayed that Thorfinn would not get in trouble for whatever he was doing there.

Not getting in trouble for the calloused hand that reached out for that person's shoulder, how they yelped out and whipped their head around at the contact with the man.

How they watched as Thorfinn's hopeful face slowly dimmed to shock - then reverted back to his nonchalant ignorance.

What a fool he was. No, it couldn't be. The words he heard, they weren't yours. This little slave, just a terrified child, may have talked like you - walked like you, had a stature like you, looked like you - but in their place, you wouldn't have frozen on the spot. You would have killed him, or he you, when you gazed upon him as you did time and time again.

Without another word, he let his hand fall to his side and dismissed Einar's concerns. The brunette apologized for Thorfinn's stead but the man was already on his way to the barn.

He didn't even know what he was thinking. How his mind could see a silhouette that could resemble you, mistake you, and start running after you. Thorfinn didn't know what he was doing.

The master was already used to his behaviour. Perhaps that's why he wanted to get rid of him while still gaining a bit of gold.

Trapped In Every Sacrifice, Feel Like I'm Gonna Lose My Mind...

Another night. Another new slave - a young, blonde woman - another curse from Einar about wars and beasts and another nightmare. It's what Thorfinn finally reckoned them as.

The demons that haunt him as he stabs them down for the earth to swallow. Your bloodied body holding a blade. The insults and spits thrown at him, his insides falling down into the sea. Your flailing arms as you cry for his help as the ground splits in two.

In the dead of the night, he checks for his companion, still seeing him to be asleep. Limply, Thorfinn forced himself to sit up.

The stars were as bright as ever. They were when you two were together but in the past year, the nightsky seemed different. Under it, all alone, he mumbled your name under his breath to remember you by.

That's right, he did not even have anything to remember you by, did he? Not a weapon, not a trinket, nothing. All that was left of you were the nightmares haunting his mind.

He hoped it was even less. In this cool, dark night, Thorfinn hoped you were dead. All would be easier for you to bear if just bones remained of you - and it would be easier to bear for him on his heart and mind.

You'd be free.

No Freedom, Without Love...

Scorching was the sun that morning as Ketil appraoched Thorfinn and Einar on his horse once again. Pater accompanied him with another in tow. Shackles of splinted wood around their swollen wrists. Their head hanging low.

"Thorfinn, Einar!" Ketil called out and began his usual prattling. His face bore that same, kind smile even when his words fell on some deaf ears. All Thorfinn could really focus on were lidded eyes slowly moving from the dirtied path up to him. Eyes that were drooped, limp, cold and familiar.

A shaky gasp. Air that got stuck in their lungs. Ketil halted in surprise as they stepped closer in hesitation, their bound hands rising and Pater yelling out about authority and respect of a property to follow.

All Thorfinn could hear were their breathless gasps, the darting eyes, hollow and in tears as their chafed hands gingerly cradled his face - as if unsure if he was really there.

Then, the shock turned into sorrow and anger.

"...You were supposed to be in Iceland..."

Pater yanked them away from him, the familiar warmth gone as they disorientate. Thorfinn could barely breath.

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 24

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

The moment y’all have been waiting for…

Content Warnings - Very descriptive gore, death, injury, lizard mutts

Your body is full of aches and chills as you trudge your way through the capital sewers. You definitely have a fever but there’s not much the squad can do at this point. They’re determined to get to Snow’s mansion.

Luckily, one of the cameramen knows the underground routes of the capital so the group isn’t at risk of getting lost. Every inch of you protests as you walk deeper underground but with no way to contact the rebels, you’re stuck with your squad for the time being.

The group finally decides to take a break and enters a small room that’s out of the water. You slouch down in the corner away from everyone else. Finnick comes to sit near you but you growl at him.

“Get away from me!” you snap, causing the group to look at you. Finnick sits near you anyways but doesn’t make any move to touch you.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asks. You shake your head no and the movement sends pain up your neck.

“My neck,” you groan. Finnick makes you tilt your head up so he can look.

“It’s spreading,” he sighs. He calls Jackson over to your corner.

“Is there anyway we can get her to medical?” he asks the woman. “It’s up to her neck now.”

“I’m sorry but communications are still down,” she shakes her head.

“I’m getting Katniss,” Finnick tells you. You want to protest but your eyes are really heavy as sleep tugs at you.

“She says it started with the headache,” he tells Katniss as she crouches down to look at the veins on your neck. “It was just on her arm but it’s been spreading. It’s not from a pod.”

“If it was something in the bloodstream it would be spreading faster,” she observes. “I’m thinking whatever it is, it’s not a poison from an external source. I’ve never seen this before.”

“Get away from me!” you sleepily snap at her. She moves and you quickly fall into a fitful sleep.

Tick Tock

Tick Tock

Katnissss

Tick! Tock!

Tick! Tock!

Katnisssssss

You jolt awake to Finnick shaking your shoulder.

“Mutts,” he tells you. “We have to move now!”

Suddenly full of adrenaline, you bolt through the murky depths of the sewers as the hissing gets louder. The veins seem to be spreading faster now, crawling their way up your neck to your jaw. Your squad mates panic at the sight of you but they all have bigger things to worry about right now.

You find yourself crawling through a small hole in the wall behind Finnick. You both stare as Jackson goes to enter the hole but she’s suddenly attacked by the mutts. At the sight of them, the black veins pulse upwards and start to rapidly spread.

“Come on!” Finnick yells at you. He doesn’t want to touch you but he will if it means pulling you to safety.

The two of you quickly catch up to the rest of the group. Katniss and Gale shoot arrows at the mutts, taking them down in clumps. Finnick makes you stay behind him as he spears the monsters with his trident. He had tried to give you a weapon but you refused it as your hands were in too much pain from the substance spreading inside of you.

The group progresses forward but the mutts don’t stop coming. Finally, someone sees a way out. Pollux motions for the group to climb a ladder but your vision is getting hazy and the sound of a clock pounding in your head blocks out everything around you.

Finnick watches in horror as your bright eyes fill with an inky black substance. You let out a low growl before lunging at one of the mutts and ripping its head off with your bare hands.

You quickly make work of the mutts in the room, ripping off limbs and gouging out eyes. Your squad continues to climb the ladder, leaving only you, Finnick, and Gale left at the bottom. You can’t see them though, you can only focus on your deep primal instinct to kill anything that comes at you.

One of the mutts catches you off guard, hitting you in the head. You cough up blackened blood before sinking your fingers into the creature and ripping out its tongue. It’s teeth graze your hand but you can’t feel anything but the urge to kill.

Finnick has to stop Gale from trying to pull you up the ladder.

“Don’t touch her!” Finnick warns. “She’ll kill you. She can’t recognize any of us.”

Gale quickly backs off and proceeds up the ladder. Finnick, though, had a predicament. How was he supposed to get you out of there without touching you? At this point even him being near you may set you off. He can’t just leave you here.

“Katniss!” he calls up, still fighting off mutts with his trident. “Sedative on an arrow. Now!”

Katniss understands exactly what Finnick wants her to do. She dips the tip of an arrow in sedative and shoots it into your shoulder. Not fatal, but hopefully it would knock you out.

The arrow to your shoulder further fueled your rage. You turn towards the ladder and grin, black foam spilling from your lips like a rabid animal. You go to make a leap towards your assailant when a mutt jumps onto your back, dragging you into the water.

The group watching can’t tell who’s blood is in the water, but there’s a lot of it. Scale covered flesh floats to the surface along with black blood. Finnick wants to help but he can’t see where the mutt is and he doesn’t want to stab you.

What feels like an eternity later, you emerge from the water, holding the spinal cord of the lizard mutt, the rest of its body in pieces around you. The remaining mutts recoil at the sight and slowly back away, fearing your presence.

You let out a deep growl, blood spilling from your mouth as the sound reverberates off the walls. At this, the mutts slither back down the tunnels, leaving you and Finnick alone.

As the adrenaline leaves your body, you begin to feel the excruciating pain of your wounds. Finnick is calling your name but everything is fuzzy. The inky substance flows from your eyes and ears as the soft tick of a clock pulls you under.

Ok but the urge to kill Gale was real lol

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[brotherwtf]

I always enjoy your answers for the various asks you get 💖 so here’s an idea I thought would be fun to share with you: for the breeding kink, what if John walks into the kitchen once to find Gale eating a pickle straight out of the jar (I mean, the guy was just craving a pickle) but John Egan being John Egan he’s like it finally happened, doll! I can just imagine the look Gale would give him 😂

omg Bucky just in one of his moods and he's so out of it that he thinks he actually got Gale pregnant this time

----

When Gale woke up, he was craving something salty and vinegary to get the funky taste out of his mouth. He wasn't sure why, he usually didn't like stuff like that, but he really, really wanted something like that.

He peeled himself from John who had tired himself out from two rounds of sex and wandering into the kitchen, John's shirt hanging off of his shoulders. He knew they had a jar of pickles in the fridge, John liked to eat them straight from the jar, so he knew that would satisfy his salty desire.

He's unscrewing the jar when he hears John stumbling down the stairs, smiling at the sound of his clumsy husband, and pulls a spear from the jar, taking a bite out of it and humming at the taste. It wouldn't be what he would usually eat, but it tasted good now.

Gale turns to see John standing in the kitchen doorway and he smiles wider, putting the jar back in the fridge and walking towards John. But John has this stupid expression on his face, one of pure awe and admiration and Gale can't help but chuckle.

"Knock, knock, Bucky, anybody home?" Gale says and yelps when John scoops him up in his arms, lifting him up and spinning him around with glee.

"Oh my God doll I did it!! We actually did it!" John says and Gale's even more confused now.

After two rounds of sex, Gale knew that John sometimes got loopy from the exertion, would just blab to him in bed about everything and nothing, and Gale was always glad to listen. Maybe this was just more of his rambling.

"Did what, darling?" Gale asks, eyebrows quirked up as he looks down at John's gleeful expression.

John sets Gale down and touches his stomach, laughing and dropping to his knees to press a kiss there. Gale shakes his head with a chuckle, tilting John's head up so he can raise his eyebrows questioningly again.

"Can't believe we're gonna have little ones. Cannot believe you're already having the cravings! Gale you haven't eaten a pickle the entire time I've known you, wow I can't believe we did it!" John blabs and Gale nods his head, finally understanding.

John had been on a kick where he would try to fuck babies into Gale, wouldn't be deterred even when he would come inside Gale and it would drip out, would beg and beg for Gale to let him try again to give him kids. Gale would play into it, moan about how deep John was fucking into him, but afterwards when John came to his senses they would laugh about it.

Even now, Gale knows that John would probably double over in laughter at the image Gale sees now, John on his knees pressing kisses into his stomach, excitedly yapping about what the names of their children would be. Gale only smiles and hums along, can't help but wonder what it would be like to actually have children on their own.