#gate aptitude

[silksworn]

just casually adding to Ira's lore that she had a husband and daughter that she also lost during the fall of her house —

[cbsesamplepapersblog]

GATE Topper Secrets Revealed! Unleash your GATE potential with proven study techniques used by toppers. Our guide includes selecting the right resources, mastering previous year papers, and effective time management.

[rightnewshindi]

GATE Registration 2025: 28 अगस्त से शुरू हो रहे ग्रेजुएट एप्टीट्यूड टेस्ट इन इंजीनियरिंग रजिस्ट्रेशन, यहां पढ़ें पूरी डिटेल

GATE 2025 Registration: ग्रेजुएट एप्टीट्यूड टेस्ट इन इंजीनियरिंग (GATE 2025) के लिए रजिस्ट्रेशन विंडों कल 28 अगस्त, 2024 को ओपन होगी। रजिस्ट्रेशन विंडों के खुलने का इंतजार करने वाले कैंडिडेट ऑफिशियल वेबसाइट gate2025.iitr.ac.in पर जाना होगा। आपकों बता दें कि रजिस्ट्रेशन करने की आखिरी तारीख 26 सितंबर, 2024 है। कैंडिडेट लेट फीस देकर 7 अक्टूबर, 2024 तक GATE 2025 के लिए रजिस्ट्रेशन कर सकते हैं। गेट…

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling

[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 2 here!!

Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--

A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.

Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work. 

Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?

Right?

But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.

Shall we?

——

You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.

So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying. 

Until you ran into a problem.

Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him. 

You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.

You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty. 

But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation. 

You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.

How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?

And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything. 

Strange.

 What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.

“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response. 

However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you. 

You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.

‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.

You laugh to yourself.

Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.

As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot. 

Zzzt Zzzzt!

Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal. 

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” 

‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Well. Thank you.

It’s none of your concern, fangs.

Better now that you’re here.

What happened last night?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.

You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.

“What do you think happened last night?”

“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.

Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise. 

“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.

And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

And this chill so does love playing games.

You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.

You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.

“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence. 

“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.

“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.

“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider. 

“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.

“What do you mean, ‘months?” 

He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.

“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.

“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.

And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.

“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol

[sinizade]

A little family tree about Izveta and Astarion because I recently discovered that vampires in D&D can have children...

The appearance and what is written about Astarion's parents is just a headcanon created by me, I keep in mind that they never found their son and ended up dying over the years since the game does not mention anything connected abt Astarion's family.

I never wrote about Izveta's father, but basically he was a quiet man and obedient to his wife even though she was extremely aggressive towards him. She killed him a few years after adopting Izveta when he tried to get rid of the girl after overhearing her talking to Sceleritas.

The day that Sarevok had mentioned in his letter arrived and Izveta could no longer think rationally, she wanted children, she needed children and so it was done... Twins with Bhaal's blood, a boy and a girl who, since they were born, already had an aptitude for magic, Belgos and Amalicia or as the people in Baldur's Gate call them "Cursed Children.

Even though they were children of a Vampire Lord and a Bhaalspawn, Belgos and Amalicia did not grow up in a troubled home, quite the contrary, Astarion and Izveta had plans for their children and being bad parents was not one of those plans. The children were loved to the extreme and no one would dare try to hurt any of them, also because no one would be crazy enough to try.

I like to think that Astarion would be a drooling father, you can see in the game that even though he tries to pretend otherwise, he loves children. I think he would remove ALL of Cazador's paintings and decorations and fill the entire castle with paintings of Elbos, Amalicia and Izveta, every hallway and room would have at least two paintings of them so that everyone could see the GREAT family he and Izveta built together

Amalicia is defiant, she took this a lot from her mother, she always wants to go out when she shouldn't, she always wants to fight with people who shouldn't, Astarion and Izveta often had to solve many of the problems she caused, whether with Astarion's vampire spawns or with some hunters she provoked when she ran away from the Castle. Even with all the problems she causes, Amalicia is still a child and many times she just wants to play.

Elbos is a calm and affectionate boy unlike his sister and is almost always seen hiding behind Astarion and Izveta's legs. He likes rats and keeps some pets hidden in his room as Astarion makes a point of banning any rats inside his castle. .

Amalicia and Elbos' relationship tends to be the basic one for children their age, they fight and then go back to playing together, but sometimes they both seem to be far away from where they are, as if they were listening to something... Or someone...

Btw, if you are a hunter or a mercenary with a functional brain and love for life, you N E V E R try to hurt the children of a Bhaalspawn and a Vampire Lord... They will do really bad things to you

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: What M6 get from their parents

~ for the Vesuvia Weekly prompt, "I see where you got it from"! ~

Julian

For someone who's never claimed to be a sailor, he sure spends a lot of time at sea and dreaming about future boats

It's much less surprising when he starts talking about the few hazy memories he has of being the oldest son of merchant parents. His early childhood was spent playing above and below decks

Which explains his specific brand of wanderlust pretty well. Instead of it being a boredom with the mundane or a fear of commitment, it's this deep sense of himself as a global citizen

He's happiest in marketplaces and finding his family among odd groups of people from all over the world, what can he say??

Not to mention his "if I can't find what I need here, maybe I just need to try somewhere else" mentality when it comes to problem solving. Need more education? Time to visit a new country!

It would make sense for his natural aptitude with learning new languages, forming quick connections, and creating collaborations to have come from fairly successful merchant parents as well

Whether that's also where he got his godawful cooking skills from, or whether that's just a "him" thing, remains up for debate

Asra

You learned it pretty quickly after meeting them - you know exactly where that constant, almost insatiable curiosity comes from

That, and the tendency to have a new thought, forget the current conversation, and trail off into disjointed mumbles as said thought gets rapidly unpacked and explored from several angles

If Salim is who Asra gets his brain from, Aisha is where he got his spirit. That stubborn hope and determined dedication to care for who he loves? He got that from the women who looked the Devil dead in the eye and told him to leave her child alone or else

You can also see a lot of the way Asra relates to you in the way their parents relate to each other. It's that easy, intuitive comfort of shedding pretenses from the get go and embracing uniqueness

Why bother trying to show off what you're good at, when you could try something new together instead? Sure they could give you a tour of their gate - or Salim could give his experimental magic a test run now that you're around to help out!

Not to mention how all three of them seem to know healing magic

And they all love a good cup of tea

Nadia

She could spend hours telling you exactly how unlike her sisters and parents she is, but let's be real. Satrinava genes are strong and you could pick one out of a crowd any day

The intelligence levels she couldn't hide if she tried? Check

The absolute perfection of her fashion choices? Check

The habit she can't turn off of looking not just at you but through you with a kind of perceptive, piercing gaze that has no intention of telling you what she's figuring out about you? Also check

(Seriously, every member of her family does it nonstop and at this point you're wondering if you should just give up all your secrets)

The tendency to approach any problem or conflict by openly stating her own opinion/perspective first? Check

The down-to-earth openmindedness that you have to actually talk to her to discover? Check. Nazali seems to be the one exception, but you're pretty sure that's after years of traveling around

The immediate need to take responsibility for whatever's going on, or more accurately, going wrong? Check

Somehow always smells nice? Check

Muriel

There was a lot about Muriel that you thought was "just Muriel" until you made that trip South together and saw all the subtle ways he became more grounded in himself

Nobody's concerned about taking up too much space in vast tundra. No wonder he always seemed to feel cramped

It also seemed a bit counterintuitive for such a minimalist furnace of a man to own a veritable pile of furs until you walked into Khamgalai's hut. He might not remember it, but he probably spent his first few years wrapped and dressed in them

Not to mention his tendency to fill his space with earthy, herbal smells to the point of carrying pouches of it with him. There were dried foraged plants all over the rafters there

What eventually came to be one of his strongest ties, though, was his craftsmanship. How someone who disliked frivolous things did so much detail was beyond you, until you saw those tapestries

And, of course, the remnants of years of nomadic movement in his need to spend hours at a time outside every day, keeping a steady pace through the forest to assure himself that all is well

Portia

This didn't spring out at you from her the way it did from her brother, but Portia has a capacity for dramatics that she does a deviously excellent job of downplaying

Sure, she seems considerably better adjusted and grounded than he does, and sure, her tendency to compensate for the unique needs of her loved ones shows up in being hypercompetent

But you're certain at this point that at least one of her parents was a hell of an actor/dramatist. You've watched how easily she can put on whatever face she needs to accomplish what she wants

Not to mention the love of stories and art of storytelling. You know you're at a Devorak gathering when both you and half the other people in the area are totally drawn in to a fond memory retelling

You can also see the makings of traveling merchants in her job as Vesuvia's ambassador. It's almost scary how easily she makes herself at home spending months at sea, going place to place

And both scary and awe-inspiring when she finds herself locked in negotiations. Whether with a marketplace stall owner, or a stubborn noble with an import she wants, she's indomitable

Lucio

Honestly, beyond their physical similarities, it's pretty hard at first to see all the ways in which Lucio takes after his mother

They're both such strong products of their environment. Morga is stern, stonefaced, and (to put it bluntly) stingy, but she takes accountability beyond her means and always faces hard choices

Lucio is the opposite. Loud, expressive, flamboyant, unconcerned with discipline or rules, terrified of hard choices or accountability, and (when he's not under duress) generous to a fault

The first place you saw it? Their dismissiveness, unfortunately

As soon as it's not something they understand or relate to, they both lose interest in talking about it and tend to be quick to brush it aside, often without pausing to consider other's feelings first

Not to mention how quickly both of them jump to using aggression to express themselves. You can tell it's got a whole lot more to do with how intensely they feel things than any bad intentions

But the trait you learn they share most is what you take the longest to notice: quiet, unassuming protection as a subconscious love language. They'll always keep watch when you're vulnerable

[hellothisisangle]

Cae is stunning! What is his backstory?

It’s been on my mind for a while! Just never wrote anything down.

The bhaalspawn baby appeared outside Baldur’s gate and was found by some farmhands who took him in. Bhaal must have missed the mark a bit when he was sired.

He toiled on the farm like their many other children (more kids=more labor), but he was out of place and bullied for being a tiefling among all humans. The urges then began showing from time to time and Scelaritas appeared before him, trying to coax the young bhaal spawn. Caelum, child that he was, didn’t understand. He told his adoptives, but they said to him that it was an evil fey creature and to stay away from it.

He would sometimes sneak to the city, stealing resplendent things he could get his hands on, then be harassed by the fellow children or beat by their parents if they caught him with anything good. His aptitude for music began showing itself around this time as well, as he would sing or make makeshift instruments. Only after a particular incident, where he killed (accidentally or otherwise) one of the children’s pet rabbits, did they decide to sell him off to a slave trader, thinking he really was a devil child all along.

The trader recognized Caelum’s talent and potential, dressed him up and presented him to well-off enough families. One of them accepted him in as something like an exotic bird. Caelum began to realize his issue with the urges, how wrong they were, and he did his best to suppress them as he knew that the position he was in now was his best chance at living a decent life. They didn’t love him but he got pretty much everything else he wanted. He just had to not think about the darker thoughts that creeped in… or hide the evidence better. Scelaritas again attempted to appear before him, but Caelum would completely ignore him, thinking no good could come from indulging him.

As he grew older he was sent to college. He was fairly popular and wildly charasmatic, thus certain odd behaviors were excused. But the urges grew ever stronger. To talk his classmates into meeting him at secluded places, to do unspeakable things to anyone who trusted him. He satiated the cravings with his own flesh, gaining his fascination with self harm. He knew he couldn’t continue like this. The next time Scelaritas appeared, he gave in, and was swept away to the cult beneath the city.

Everything from then on felt exceptionally “right”. He was allowed to do whatever he wanted, free to be who he thought he really was. Because it always felt like an inevitability. He thought he finally, actually had a family who understood him, and he devoted himself completely to it. He was around 20 here, and Orin was a child. They got along pretty well, her always insisting they had a sibling rivalry but Caelum never took her seriously. In between this time he rose up in the ranks of the cult and grew close to Gortash. A decade passed before Orin betrayed him and that’s where the start of the game begins. (and that fic I wrote)

[remember-digimon]

Let's talk about Tai!

First of all, Tai does in fact show signs of terminal Shonen Protagonist, however with the depth of his character we can assume it is in remission. Good for him.

Tai is reckless and often rushes into things without thinking. To him, there is the goal and there are things in the way of his goal, so naturally he just has to bulldoze the obstacles and he's good. This is probably how he ended up as the leader of the group, aside from him being shown as a sort-of-main-character; while other characters are important, Tai is the driving force. He is action.

(Remember that time he tried to beat up a Bakemon?? This kid has zero chill when he's on a mission I swear)

If Izzy were in charge, they would get sidetracked by the details. If Matt were in charge, they'd likely never get very far because he has to consider the feelings of the entire group. If Sora were in charge, she would be too concerned with protecting everyone.

While Tai is basically the rocket fuel of their group, this also leads him to charging forward when other parts of the metaphorical machine aren't ready. This is why the dynamic of the whole group works so well; Tai may be hyperfocused on the end game but the others make up for the skills he lacks.

In addition to being the driving force, Tai is really good at delegating. He gives the task of figuring out the gate in Myotismon's castle to Izzy, who is objectively the best one for the job. During Our War Game, he's giving orders like a general during the fight, showing his aptitude for strategy.

Other leaders in Digimon seem to be given that title simply because they're the ones wearing the goggles, but in my opinion none of them really live up to the standard set by Tai. He may not have a deep understanding of Digimon and their world, but he has Izzy for that. He might sometimes lose himself in the end goal and forget to be empathetic to his friends, but he has Matt for that. He might be bullheaded and stubborn, but he has Mimi to be blunt and tell him what he needs to hear.

His real weakness lies in Kari; when she passes out in the desert, Tai basically falls to pieces and Izzy has to take over. When Izzy accidentally broadcasts their location, Tai flies off the handle, unprovoked, in a way that's pretty out of character for him any other time. He's haunted by the incident where Kari collapsed at the playground when they were younger, and he blames himself completely for what happened.

It's interesting to compare Tai and Matt as older brothers. Tai is very loving to Kari, and very protective, likely (at least in part) because of what happened at the playground. Matt is just as overprotective of TK, maybe even more, since he's basically rooted his entire purpose in protecting TK. Tai values Kari as a member of the team, but is still highly aware of the danger she's in. This is similar to how Matt views TK, being glad to be spending this much time with him but losing himself a little in worrying about him.

Unlike Matt, though, Tai is never really given the chance to fully confront his fear of something happening to Kari. He finds aspirin for her, but Machinedramon attacks and separates them. She's recovered by then anyway, but that's beside the point. It would've been nice to see him come to terms with his feeling of failure to protect her at all costs, but there were huge monsters to fight so I see why they skipped it.

Overall, Tai is a wonderful protag. He's courageous and instills his teammates with the energy to keep moving forward, he always has his eye on the prize, and he knows when to step aside and let someone else handle a problem he might not be well equipped for. Other shonen protags, like Ash from Pokemon for instance, can solve their problems by believing in their friends and that's it. Tai solves problems through strategy, delegating, and most of all, teamwork.

[cbsesamplepapersblog]

Unlock high scores with our expert tips to conquer the GA section of the GATE 2025 exam. Syllabus breakdown, effective strategies, & valuable resources included!

[sylvia-forest]

[CN] Shaw's Dual Cultivation Pact Date - Part 1

⚡Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a Date which hasn’t been released in EN yet!⚡

[Released Date: 4 August 2024]

[Section 1]

Mayor: To be honest, we really shouldn’t bother you with such trivial matters… Mayor: If the fairy hadn't set up a large formation here to protect our town over the years, I'm afraid this area would have been trampled by demons…

The old man in front of me complimented me endlessly, but at the critical moment, he hesitated to speak and kept looking at my face.

Looking at his submissive look, I felt a little funny, so I lazily changed my sitting position and spoke directly.

MC: There's no need for small talk. The old gentleman wants to talk about Shaw, right?

Hearing the name "Shaw", the villagers shivered instinctively and gritted their teeth before nodding.

Mayor: That's right! That's him! That disciple of yours is acting too arrogantly!

The mayor immediately started talking and complained endlessly.

Basically, it all boils down to Shaw being rude when traveling the world, being selective when fighting demons, and not knowing how to hold back. It's all just boring stuff.

I blocked a yawn with my sleeve, but the mayor didn't notice my impatience. He took a sip of strong tea and patted his knee.

Mayor: …..This time, he went even further and actually tied butcher Qian to a tree, using him as bait to attract ghosts! MC: Oh. Mayor: Butcher Qian was so frightened that he was still lying in bed! MC: ….oh. Mayor: Their whole family depends on him for food. Life is really difficult these days, so… ?.?: So what?

A voice sounded above my head. I looked up and met a pair of playful eyes.

It's Shaw. He sat back on the beam, dangling his long legs, and smiled at me leisurely, then turned his eyes to the mayor.

The young man's tone clearly carried a smile, but his words were as sharp as a blade.

Shaw: I’m asking you, so what? Mayor: No, nothing!!

The mayor stood up in a hurry and almost knocked over the unfinished tea cup.

Mayor: ——Fairy MC, Taoist Master Shaw, I suddenly remembered that I have something to do at home, so I’ll take my leave first!

Before I had a chance to speak, Shaw had already leapt down from the beam and landed right in front of me, just as the mayor scrambled away in a hurry.

He first gave a cold sneer, then swept the teacup the man had used out the door with a flick of his sleeve, treating it like trash.

Shaw: What was he here for? MC: What do you say? MC: Of course, he's here to complain about you, my 'recalcitrant disciple,' being too disobedient and in need of correction.

Shaw: Hey, who is your disciple? Do you still want to train me?

I fiddled with the tassels on my whisk and curled my lips.

MC: Since you're not my disciple, why do you have the right to look at the cultivation manuals and texts I've collected?

Shaw: No reason. Anyway, I want to read it, and you can’t stop me, right? Shaw: Besides, I haven’t looked at your cultivation manuals for nothing. Shaw: Since I came here, haven't you been able to practice your cultivation with peace of mind, without having to be invited down the mountain by these people every once in a while?

Back then, Shaw appeared at my courtyard gate without any warning.

He claimed to be a wandering martial Taoist, here to find someone, and while he was at it, to do some ghost and demon exorcism work to make a bit of extra money.

Seeing that he had good aptitude, I casually gave him some pointers.

In return, while he was traveling down the mountain, he used my name and handled many mundane affairs on my behalf.

This subtle understanding has continued until now. But now…

MC: Other things might be forgivable, but why were you so harsh with the butcher Qian? Shaw: Didn't you tell me about Qian Butcher before? This fat man encountered a demon with his brother when he was young. He pushed his brother into the demon's mouth and ran away. Shaw: Afterwards, feeling guilty, he came to you for help with rituals and prayers, didn't he?

While he was talking leisurely, he poured a cup of tea and pushed it in front of me.

I took a sip of the tea and briefly recalled that I might have mentioned this during one of our casual chats over tea and meals.

MC: What does this have to do with you bleeding him to attract ghosts?

Shaw: It doesn't matter, I just want to say... I am much kinder than him. Shaw: He used a human life to feed the demons, while I only use a vial of blood and a bit of courage... With all the clamor, aren’t I still kind-hearted?

When Shaw leaned toward me, the faint scent of tea flowers escaped from his collar, and I held my breath.

MC: You might think it's just the way it is, but let me remind you of something… MC: Next time, do it more discreetly, lest the old man come up the mountain again and bore me to death.

Shaw burst out laughing.

He originally had sharp features and a somewhat arrogant appearance. When he smiled, his demeanor became even more unruly and bold. He didn't seem like a righteous person dedicated to expelling demons and upholding justice, but rather like a little devil causing trouble in the world.

When he stopped laughing, I asked him some more about his experiences at the foot of the mountain, and all I got were answers that were completely different from the mayor's.

Shaw: ...I scolded him because he deserved it. I told him not to go out during the time of demons, but he insisted on strolling around. All I can say is that if he died, he brought it on himself. Shaw: ...Is a poor person's life worth less? Anyway, I’ll go help where I want to help. If he's in a hurry, he can ask another Taoist priest. Shaw [sighs]: …That demon was quite powerful. I was caught off guard, which is why it managed to set half the village on fire. If I had known earlier, I would have learned from her. MC [surprised]: Her?

When I heard this word, my heart felt like it was gently pulled by a thread, but my face was still smiling.

MC: Are you referring to Fairy Xuanhe when you say "her"?

Shaw: Yes, who else could it be?

I looked at Shaw, and he confidently spread his hands.

Shaw: If she were to handle it, she would probably crush the monster to ashes, and avoid the troubles that would follow. MC: Not necessarily. MC: Fairy Xuanhe has an eccentric personality and cruel methods, which will only cause more trouble. MC: Maybe if she wasn’t in a good mood while exorcizing demons, she might set the village on fire herself. Shaw: …..

Shaw narrowed his eyes and twitched the corner of his mouth.

Shaw: MC, I originally thought you were different from the rest of the world. Shaw: It turns out you think of her the same way. MC: It’s not that I think of her that way, it’s that everyone in the world thinks so. Shaw: Everyone in the world? Shaw [scoffs]: I don’t care what everyone in the world does, I just ask you, do you also think that Fairy Xuanhe is a fallen witch?

I averted my gaze, avoiding the sight of Shaw's hand slowly curling into a fist, and spoke each word deliberately.

MC: Does what I think matter? MC: Shaw, she is dead. Don't look for her anymore. It will only make you have delusional thoughts… Shaw: I do not believe.

Shaw interrupted me coldly.

Shaw: Unless I see her body with my own eyes, I won't believe it.

He had reached this point, and I knew that it would be useless to say more, so I could only close my mouth.

A long silence brewed between me and him. When the teacup on the table was no longer warm, Shaw finally stood up.

He picked up a few books on my table and waved at me.

Shaw: It's time for me to leave. Please lend me these few volumes of exercises and return them to you later. Shaw: By the way, remember to treat me with a different kind of tea next time, this one is too unpleasant to drink. MC: Whoever wants to entertain you, please return the book to me!

I shouted angrily at Shaw's back, only to receive a wanton chuckle from him.

—

[Section 2]

Ever since the earth's spiritual veins were tainted by demonic energy a century ago, monsters have been rampant everywhere. Not only have people been living in constant unease, but even the flowers and plants have lost their vibrancy, always appearing withered and desolate.

Sighing, I broke off a few withered branches and finally discovered a cluster of blooming flowers.

MC: ...Although they bloomed a bit later than last year, it's good that we met again.

I reached out my hand with joy and touched the petals.

It gently swayed its branches, as if responding to my mood. A drop of night dew fell from its petal tip, moistening my fingertips.

I brushed away the water stain, and my thoughts drifted away, following the spreading fingerprints.

Shaw [in a low voice]: What are you doing?

A slender hand suddenly appeared before my eyes, emanating a familiar, stronger fragrance of blooming tea from the sleeve.

Only then did I come back to my senses and turn around to glare at Shaw.

MC: Why do you scare me every time you come here?

Shaw: Are you scared? I see that your expression is very calm every time. MC: Hmph, it's just my refined demeanor. Shaw: Yes, yes, who doesn’t know that Fairy MC is unparalleled and her joy and anger are never visible in her expressions.

Shaw casually quarreled with me, raised his eyebrows, and looked around.

Shaw: How do I feel... your yard is much prettier than the last time I came here? MC: You always come in autumn and winter, so how can you see any flowers and plants? It's almost summer now, and of course the flowers are blooming more. Shaw: Indeed, you must have put a lot of thought into raising these delicate little things so well, right? MC: Fortunately, it doesn’t matter if you spend more time thinking on the things you like. Shaw: As long as you like it, will you spend more time and effort?

Shaw's rhetorical question came out of nowhere. I was a little surprised and turned to look at him. But I saw his eyes falling directly on my face as if he was confirming something.

Being stared at by him made me feel a little nervous, and I bit my lip.

MC: What's wrong...don't you know how? Shaw: Of course, I do too.

Shaw finally looked away and raised the corners of his mouth.

Shaw: I will not put just "a little" thought into something I like, but will use all my strength and risk everything to win it.

Indeed, you're still too young. Only someone youthful would casually use words like 'exhaust' and 'everything,' which carry such a resolute meaning. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

MC: You'd better keep some for yourself. You've finally achieved results in your cultivation. Wouldn't it be a big loss if you gambled it all away? Shaw: Lose or win, I have the final say.

After he finished speaking, he paused and added another sentence.

Shaw: MC...has my practice really paid off? MC: Certainly. Even if you don’t know how many boundaries you have broken, you can still feel the yang energy in your body being filled, right? Shaw: That's true... Lately, when I've been walking at night, no wandering spirits or ghosts dare to come near me.

Shaw muttered, handing me a few scrolls from his arms.

Shaw: I'm really curious, where exactly did you get these techniques from? Shaw: I've been stuck at a bottleneck in my cultivation for a long time. I've sought help from both reputable sects and unorthodox paths, but nothing has worked—I've been stuck at the same level. Shaw: Ever since I started using your techniques, cultivation has become remarkably easy. MC: These are all techniques I created myself. Besides, isn't it a good thing that they're simple to practice?

I took the scrolls and calmly met his gaze.

MC: Just think that this fairy is an unparalleled genius and happened to be so compassionate that she helped you.

Shaw: Hahaha, this is the first time I have seen someone say that she is a genius!

He laughed so loudly that I couldn't help but pout.

MC: Is that not okay? Shaw: Of course, this genius fairy is so cute.

His straightforward words made my face heat up slightly, and I quickly changed the topic.

MC: Okay, tell me what you have experienced during this time.

In order to ensure the stability of the formation and peace in all directions, I have been living in the mountains for a long time. I rely on Shaw to tell me everything I know about the outside world.

Who did you meet, what demon did you kill, what food and wine did you eat…

From Shaw's gentle words, I could hear, see, and feel the long-lost warmth of the everyday world.

But this time as I listened, I suddenly noticed something was wrong.

MC: ..... Even if this monster makes you unhappy, you can just get rid of it. Is it necessary to beat it half to death and throw it in front of its deadly enemy?

Shaw [scoffs]: Oh, it offended me, why should I let it die happily? Shaw: Of course, I have to let it be tortured to death by its mortal enemy so that I can feel relieved. MC: ……Nonsense.

Is he imitating Fairy Xuanhe's method again? Looking at Shaw's face, I swallowed these words and sighed lightly.

MC: When I first met you, you were still a very well-behaved child.

Shaw [clicks his tongue]: Tsk, who are you calling a kid? Do you really think you're that much older? Shaw: Besides, when I saw you, I looked pretty much the same as I do now. Where exactly do you think I still seem like a kid?

Shaw took a step forward. With his tall stature and sharp demeanor, his presence was imposing and gave off the pressure of an adult man, making it difficult to resist.

I couldn't help but take a step back. Seeing me retreat, Shaw seemed to find it amusing and continued to advance, matching my steps.

The more I retreated, the further he advanced, until I had nowhere left to back up. My back pressed against the flower stand, and I found myself surrounded by the intense fragrance of blooming flowers.

I couldn't help but stare at him, but he just smiled at me.

MC: Is it fun?

Shaw [whispers seductively]: Fun. Shaw: Seeing the clumsy fairy retreating like this, not even bothering to use a spell to push me away, is really amusing... Eh!

I immediately did as he wished, swinging my whisk and sending a gust of energy that forcefully pushed him backward.

Shaw stumbled a few steps before steadying himself with the flower pot, but the corner of his mouth was still turned up in a smile.

Shaw: You pushed me too far. MC: You should just stand there. Shaw: I prefer not.

As he spoke, Shaw plucked a blue lotus from the flower pot and approached me again.

He raised his hand and placed the blue lotus hairpin into my hair.

MC: …..?

I looked at him, puzzled, and met his gaze with his crescent-shaped eyebrows and eyes.

Shaw [in a sweet voice]: This is just a token of gratitude for lending me your techniques. MC: Shaw, you borrowed my books and now you’re giving me one of my own flowers as a return gift? You're the one being foolish!

Shaw [whispers seductively x1]: Maybe. Shaw [x2]: But the fairy looks quite beautiful like this.

His whisper was low and seductive, but also with a subtle hint of caution.

In those bright eyes, there was only my reflection: the snowy white robe and the delicate blue lotus.

The fragrance of the blooming flowers grew more intense, like a fine wine nearing its perfect brew.

My heart raced as if something long-awaited was about to appear before me.

MC: Shaw….

Shaw [x3]: I remember she looked like this when I first saw her.

Everything was shattered, and my face instantly turned cold.

I swung the whisk again, and this time, Shaw was sent outside the courtyard, a hundred meters away, before he even had a chance to make a sound.

MC [coldly]: I won't accept it.

—

📿 Part 2

[dndfantasygirl]

Family Matters (Prologue)

Rating: Mature Word count: 1.8k Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo

Summary: After an argument with his eldest daughter leads to summoning a shadow from his past, Astarion must push aside his fears to protect the family he never thought he'd have.

*Link to AO3 Post

A decade ago, the mere notion of Astarion becoming a father would have incited raucous laughter from him. The very idea seemed ludicrous, an absurdity to be dismissed without a second thought. His life, after all, had been defined by shadows and deceit, devoid of any room for such domestic concepts.

However, fate has a way of weaving unexpected threads into the tapestry of one's existence. Astarion found himself thrust into an unlikely role as a parental figure, albeit under circumstances he could scarcely have imagined. The responsibility fell upon him during the year Arabella journeyed alongside them following the tumultuous events surrounding the Netherbrain. Delphie, with her protective instincts and fierce devotion to Arabella, would have surely taken his head had any harm befallen the young tiefling under his watch.

Yet, even as he fulfilled this role, Astarion remained ignorant of his own capacity for fatherhood. Being a spawn, he had assumed himself to be inherently infertile, an assumption born of his undead nature. It was a revelation that blindsided him, hitting with the force of a bolt from the blue, when Delphie unexpectedly found herself carrying their child.

Despite the persistent curse of vampirism lingering within him, Astarion eventually found a semblance of solace in the form of a ring—a small, unassuming trinket that bestowed upon him the remarkable ability to withstand the searing touch of sunlight. While it didn't eradicate his affliction entirely, it offered him a newfound freedom to bask in the daylight without fear of immolation, a luxury he had long believed to be forever beyond his reach. And though the tantalizing prospect of once again traversing running water and crossing thresholds uninvited remained an unattainable dream, he discovered an unexpected contentment in the life he now led.

His union with Delphie blossomed into a marriage not long before they parted ways with Arabella. Their love, tempered by adversity, had only grown stronger, fortified by a bond that transcended the boundaries of mortality and time. Yet, their joy was tinged with trepidation when Delphie discovered she carried their child—a miracle wrought from the interplay of vampiric heritage and a serendipitous twist of fate.

Gale's revelation regarding the transfer of fertility through blood had offered a glimpse into the intricacies of their unconventional family tree, shedding light on the origins of their impending parenthood. Astarion grappled with doubts, plagued by uncertainty over his aptitude for fatherhood, while Delphie harbored fears of reprisal from the countless enemies they had amassed over the years.

So, to ensure the safety of their offspring and as a belated wedding gift, the dragons, Wyll, Gale, and Shadowheart all came together to build a comfortable home inside the secluded Dragon Cove. It would be a safe environment for the children to grow up in. Of course, the children would frequently take the portal with them to go to Baldur's Gate when errands needed to be run, but they would never leave their side. The only exception would be if they were put in the care of Delphie's step-siblings or Shadowheart.

Delphie's determination to find a cure for Astarion's vampirism remained steadfast, an unwavering beacon of hope that burned bright even amidst the joys and responsibilities of parenthood. Though their family had expanded to include two precious daughters, her quest for a remedy persisted, fueled by a love that knew no bounds and a fervent desire to see her husband freed from the shackles of his cursed existence.

Yet, as the demands of parenthood grew, they found themselves facing a dilemma—the dragons were ill-equipped to care for two young elven girls for extended periods of time when they received a new lead for a cure. It was then that Shadowheart emerged as a beacon of support and solace.

Despite her aloof exterior, Shadowheart harbored a hidden reservoir of warmth and affection, particularly when it came to the two young girls who had captured her heart. In them, she saw echoes of innocence and resilience, qualities she had long thought lost amidst the trials and tribulations of her own tumultuous journey. As she watched over them, a fierce sense of protectiveness welled within her, driving her to become not only their guardian but their confidante and mentor as well.

In a gesture of profound significance, Shadowheart assumed the mantle of godmother to their daughters—a role she embraced with unwavering dedication and tenderness. From storytelling beneath starlit skies to imparting lessons of wisdom and courage, she showered the girls with a love that transcended the boundaries of blood and kinship.

They were celebrating their firstborn, Scarlette's ninth birthday at the House of Hope, a midpoint thanks to Hope that allowed Karlach to see her nieces every few months.

Leta, as they affectionately called her, bore a striking resemblance to her mother, a reflection of Delphie's grace and beauty manifested in the form of big, verdant eyes that sparkled with mischief and a delicate button nose that bespoke of innocence and wonder. Yet, amidst the familiar contours of her mother's visage, there lay a subtle reminder of her unique heritage—a line of faint golden scales adorning the curve of each cheek, a legacy of ancient lineage and untold secrets.

From an early age, Leta had displayed an affinity for the arcane arts—a gift inherited from her mother that bloomed with each passing day, unleashing torrents of raw magic whenever her emotions soared to dizzying heights. Though her burgeoning powers often led to chaos and mischief, there was an undeniable beauty in the way she danced amidst the currents of magic, a testament to the untamed potential that lay dormant within her soul.

Yet, despite the undeniable bond forged by blood and love, Astarion couldn't shake the lingering sense of distance that seemed to grow between them with each passing year. Their interactions were marked by heated debates and clashes of will, a testament to their stubborn natures and the tumultuous currents that surged between them. And yet, amidst the tumult, there remained an unbreakable bond—a father's love that transcended the petty squabbles and misunderstandings of mortal existence.

The first time Astarion cradled Leta in his arms, a swell of emotion washed over him—a tidal wave of love and tenderness that threatened to overwhelm his hardened heart. In that fleeting moment, as he gazed into her wide, innocent eyes, he glimpsed the boundless potential of a life yet to unfold—a future brimming with promise and possibility, guided by the unwavering love of a father who would move mountains to see her smile.

As the years swept by, Astarion and Delphie's family expanded once more with the arrival of their second daughter, Lilliana, affectionately known as Lily. Unlike her elder sister, Leta, whose features bore a striking resemblance to their mother, Lily's appearance echoed that of her father in unmistakable ways.

Pale as moonlight, Lily's complexion carried the ethereal pallor of her vampiric heritage. Yet, it was in her eyes that Astarion's legacy shone most brilliantly—crimson orbs that glimmered with an intensity that mirrored the flames of a dying sunset. And then there were the fangs—protruding from her delicate lips with a subtle prominence that set her apart from her sister. While Leta too possessed the telltale signs of vampiric lineage, Lily's were more pronounced.

Yet, despite her father's influence, Lilliana possessed her own unique charm—a mischievous twinkle in her eye and a smile that could light up the darkest of nights. Unlike her sister, who often found solace in the depths of her mother's embrace, Lily gravitated towards Astarion.

In Lily, Astarion saw echoes of his own past—a reminder of the life he had left behind, of the darkness and the shadows that had once consumed him. And yet, in her laughter and her boundless curiosity, he found a glimmer of hope—a beacon of light that illuminated the path towards redemption and forgiveness.

Though he loved both of his daughters with a fierceness that knew no bounds, there was something about Lily—the way she clung to his side, the way her laughter danced upon the air—that tugged at his heartstrings in a way that was uniquely her own. She was his babe, his little vampiric sprite.

Astarion couldn't help but chuckle at Delphie's frantic concern over Lily's penchant for nibbling on anything and everything once she turned four. No matter how many times he reassured her that it was merely a natural phase of their daughter's vampiric development, she couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at her heart.

As the years passed, the bond between Leta and Lily only grew stronger, evolving into a steadfast companionship that transcended the confines of mere siblinghood. They shared everything—from their dreams to their deepest fears and secrets. Together, they laughed and played, their laughter echoing off the walls of the Dragon Cove like a sweet melody.

Even in their moments of disagreement and petty squabbles, there was an undeniable closeness that bound them together. They slept curled up together, their bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs and whispers, finding solace and comfort in the presence of each other's warmth.

Inseparable in every sense of the word, Leta and Lily navigated the twists and turns of life's journey hand in hand, their laughter and tears intertwined like the threads of a tapestry.

As Astarion reclined in the comfort of the regal armchair, his gaze softened with affection as he observed his daughters, Leta and Lily, frolicking together in the foyer of the House of Hope. Their laughter filled the air like the tinkling of bells, a symphony of joy that resonated deep within his soul. Despite the passage of time and the trials they had faced, moments like these served as a poignant reminder of the precious gift of family—a gift he had once believed to be forever beyond his reach.

The warmth of Delphie's hand on his shoulder and the gentle press of her lips against his cheek stirred a surge of gratitude within him—a silent acknowledgment of the love and support that had sustained him through the darkest of days.

And so, as he sat amidst the splendor of the House of Hope, surrounded by the laughter and love of his family, Astarion couldn't help but marvel at the twists and turns of fate that had led him to this moment. So, yes. If someone had dared to suggest to him a decade ago that he would one day be a father, he would have dismissed it as the fanciful ramblings of a madman. And yet, here he was, basking in the warmth of his daughters' smiles and the tender embrace of his beloved wife—a testament to the unpredictable nature of life's journey and the transformative power of love to defy even the most improbable of odds.

[adoreeenina]

I Loved Her First! (Teaser)

(Recom! Miles Quaritch x Avatar! Reader) (Past! Human! Lyle Wainfleet x Human! Reader)

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Paz is as many things but stupid was not one of them. Since Y/n first arrived to Pandora, the Colonel was smitten. Being head security of Hell’s Gate never gave him the chance to introduce himself like he wanted to. Paz never understood what he saw in Y/n, her being not only a scientist but Dr. Grace Augustine daughter, the woman that Quaritch despised.

Right before Quaritch could make conversation, it was already too late. Lyle had asked her on a date, one date became two, and soon they made it official. Lyle had introduced Y/n to his whole squad, Quaritch heart had ache that day, seeing Y/n kissing Lyle, sitting on his lap.

Paz was always jealous of her, Paz been Quaritch pilot since she arrived to Pandora, Y/n just arrived and manage to catch the stone cold Miles Quaritch heart within seconds.

Paz knew it wasn’t a coincidence seeing Quaritch at the bar, drinking away his agony.

Just a few hours earlier. The unit did a little party, many were drinking, talking, laughing. Paz was talking with Trudy and Zee when Lyle shouted for everyone’s attention. Paz didn’t know what was going on until Lyle took out a ring and got on his knee, asking Y/n to marry him. The look of pure joy on Y/n’s face was gorgeous, even Paz could t deny that; Y/n instantly said yes. Paz didn’t know what aptitude her to peer at the Colonel.

If anybody bothered to glance at Quaritch, they would’ve seen the heartache look on his face. Quaritch excused himself after that, and Paz follows him.

Paz let him talk it out as he drunkenly admitted his feeling towards Y/n, a few drinks later… Quaritch and Paz slept together.

Paz woke up the next morning, not seeing Quaritch anywhere, not even any evidence that he was there.

Quaritch felt guilty, he didn’t understand why he did if he wasn’t with Y/n. Quaritch avoided Paz like the plague, but it didn’t last long when two months later, Paz looked for him. Paz told him she was pregnant. With his child.

An arguement happened, Quaritch denies being the child father, while Paz says it is. With her pregnancy and hormones, her emotions are all over the place.

“I always loved you” Quaritch froze at her confession. “I have tried everything to get you to notice me, but I could never be her, could I?”

Quaritch heavily sighs through his nose. He didn’t know what to say, he never seen her as anything other than a fellow soldier.

If he remembers correctly that night, it wasn’t intimate or passionate, It rough. It was just to blow off steam, he even made her face away from him, he had his eyes closed the entire time thinking of a certain (h/c).

He didn’t even stay when he finished, he instantly left, didn’t cuddle her or do any aftercare, it was just sex. It was just to take his mind off the woman he loves but could never have. Quaritch pretty sure he moaned Y/n’s name.

“Did I ever had a chance?” Paz asks, her eyes gazing at Quaritch

“No. It would always be Y/n” he answers.

His words hurt her. She already knew the answer, but it still hurts her to hear it directly from his mouth.

What does Y/n have that Paz didn’t?

(Should I or should I not?)

More pictures of human Miles Quaritch, idc idc this man is fine asf, I would let this man do whatever he wanted to to me🥵

[senualothbrok]

Rest

Summary: You have defeated the Netherbrain and survived. But when Gale asks you to marry him, you find that you cannot accept his offer.

Word count: 2.8k

Disclaimers: Non-18+. Gale x female Tav. Hurt/comfort.

World state: Gale did not sacrifice himself or claim the Crown of Karsus, which remains in the Chionthar.

AO3 link

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

His words wind you. You do not expect them. Had they been an upper cut, or perhaps a cross, you would have seen it coming. You would have tensed for impact, like you have thousands of times before. You would have barely felt the blow when it landed.

But these words – you do not anticipate them. They blindside you.

“I wondered if you might consider accompanying me back to Waterdeep as a new member of the Dekarios clan?”

His soft eyes shine, brimming with hope. Love.

You feel like you are suspended. It is not unlike the numbness after a fight. The empty shock and silence, the world bustling around you while you listen in a stupor to your laboured breaths. You cannot even feel the aching of your limbs. You mouth makes your question without your consent.

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

Such warmth and light, such gentleness in his smile. It would speak volumes, even if he were silent.

“I suppose I am. Tara would be delighted, not to mention my mother. But I’d be just as happy without such ceremony, as long as we’re together.”

You flinch. You do not know why. And you do not know why the sounds stick in your throat as you turn from him, as if defending against a punch to your gut.

“I’m sorry, Gale,” you manage to force out.

You cannot bring yourself to look back at him as you retreat.

-----

You never expected to fall in love with this man.

You were not surprised to find an instant friendship with Lae’zel, disciplined and fuelled by combat, instinctively aware of how the battle could swallow you up until nothing of you remained. Even Wyll, his life rewritten by tales of glory, and Shadowheart, reduced to the pinprick of a divine mission shrouded in secrets. They were fast and easy companions, in whose presence some things did not need to be spoken to be understood.

But Gale. This man spoke as though reading from a textbook, and carried himself with an awkwardness that suggested he had never thrown a punch in his life. You had few dealings with wizards, much less ones of skill and renown. You had no education or scholarly insight, no aptitude or experience with magic. You were sure you had nothing in common with him, pleasant enough as he was.

The only time you had encountered anyone like Gale had been when your coach had tried to sell you to wealthy sponsors and patrons. They would stand there in their spotless robes and finery, appraising your bruised and bloody body after each fight, grimacing and finding you wanting. You had won a handful of fights but lost more. Outside of a small circle in Baldur’s Gate, you were little known in the boxing circuits. Human females, much less ones as slight of stature as you, generally did not fare well.

But you had fought your way out of that flophouse, and every day was a fight to keep surviving. You could not remember a time before you had been recruited as a boxer, a time before fighting was what you lived and breathed and dreamt of. A fighter was all you were, all you had ever been.

No, you did not expect to grow close to this man. You had never known anyone like him.

The first time you had felt it was when he spoke to you of the Weave. No wizard or sorcerer had ever bothered to really speak to you before, let alone share this most intimate of secrets. Gale had felt held and cradled by the Weave, cocooned in its embrace, and it had transformed him, even in the telling of it. And you had known, then, that he would understand. You knew you could tell him how it felt in the midst of a fight, when the battle became a spirit that carried you like a wave, a surge of freedom and ecstasy that possessed you, until you became the fight. You were one with it. Without it, you felt lost, like you were nothing.

He had understood it. Much later, when he told you of Mystra, you realised that he understood it more acutely than anyone else could.

When you learned he was from Waterdeep, you told him about the fight you had lost there about a year before you had found yourself on the Nautiloid. The two of you had revelled in the realisation that you had walked the streets beneath his tower, looked across the sea that he had gazed at from his balcony. If you had looked up, you may even have seen him sitting there, reading or bickering with Tara. In Gale’s unbridled excitement, you could feel an agonised yearning for home. But you could not tell him you had been to all the taverns and libraries he recounted with longing. You could not tell him that you had enjoyed all the specialties of Waterdeep that he wished so intensely to cook and share now. You felt disappointment, and even some shame, in this.

“I didn’t have the pleasure of any of that,” you told him. “The second that I was awake, I was training for the fight. And after the fight, I had to leave to start training for the next one.”

He grimaced. “And I had locked myself away, and couldn’t have seen you fight. Another regret I can add to my ever growing list – that I didn’t have the privilege of crossing paths with you then.”

The thought of Gale pinched into the jeering crowds that loomed around you while you bled and battered the daylights out of an orc seemed so ridiculous that you could not help but laugh.

“I don’t think that would have been your scene, Gale. Even if you had left your tower.”

He chuckled. “I might have met you at a tavern after the fight.”

You arched an eyebrow. “I doubt you would have given me the time of day. Boxers like me don’t generally have any enlightening insights about the arcane arts.”

At that time, you did not tell him the truth – that you never would have gone to a tavern. Your coach would not have permitted you, even if you had wanted to. The temptation to drink and feast and choose pleasure over sleep would have been too great. Everything in your fighter’s life was measured and rationed out like water in a desert. You could not have a morsel without your coach’s approval, and even with it, warning bells would signal in your head whenever any rule was broken, any restriction disregarded. A tavern may not have been Gale’s scene, but it was not yours either.

You did not tell him that long before he had been trapped in his tower, you had been trapped in that boxing ring. It was the only home you knew. Yet you still yearned for it, even as he did.

He looked at you then, in a way no one had ever done before. There was a fullness in his gaze, a tenderness, but his eyes were unflinching. It stirred something inside you that you had forgotten was there. A warmth tingled through you like trailing fingers.

“I would have relished a conversation with you,” he said. “Just as I do now.”

Desire was not something alien to you. Sex was not frowned on in the training camps you had been sent to time after time. It was a way to remove distractions, ease tension, improve performance. You had even benefited from it with competitors. “Judicious bloodletting helps to resolve disputes,” Lae’zel was fond of saying, and you found sex to be the same.

When Lae’zel had made you an offer, though, you had declined. Though it was years ago, you could almost feel the aches from your last dalliance with a Githyanki fighter. The mere thought of it exhausted you now. To your relief, Lae’zel was pleased when you suggested regular sparring instead. You would go on late into the evenings, your companions watching enthusiastically at first, Karlach and Astarion even taking bets. But when one by one, their interest waned and they retired to their tents, Gale remained, wide eyed in wonder. There was no disaffected judgment, no wry appraisal in his stare.

You could see that it aroused him. You recognised that look well. He had even told you so, deep in the recesses of the Shadow-cursed lands, with your jaw clenched, muscles taut and slick with sweat. You were surprised and amused, and it had aroused you too, to know his feelings while he watched you doing what you did best. And it was familiar to you, to have to earn your keep and prove yourself worthy.

Everything in life had always been a fight to you. You were used to pushing your body to its limits and your mind beyond what it could endure. The battles you fought on your journey to the Netherbrain had not been so different than what you were used to, absent the looming threat of death. You were used to the gruelling, endless cycle, training and harrowing yourself before each fight. But you had never been accustomed to success and victory. The shame of defeat suffocated you, the fury and resentment of your coach more painful than any knock out. And even when you won, when you attained the glory which you had tortured yourself for so long to achieve, you would be overwhelmed by a crippling emptiness. It was an emptiness that could only be filled momentarily by the promise of another fight, a semblance of another purpose.  Yet always, you would lie awake in the dead of night, muscles throbbing and torn, bruises purpling and bones broken, exhausted but unable to sleep or rest.

But you did not feel that emptiness anymore. Each victory on this great struggle did not disappear once you had reached it. Instead, every trace of goodness and kindness, every life saved, however fragile, was a light cast into the hole inside you that you thought could never be filled. For the first time in your life, you found that you could sleep, though rest still seemed to elude you.

And when he came to love you, it sometimes felt that that hole was not there at all.

The first time he showed you the Weave, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. There was no pain, no exertion. No gritting of teeth, no agony of toil. It felt like floating in warm water. It felt like your mother holding you in the cradle of her arms, the gentle rhythm of her heart beat, when you were small and she was healthy and you were still together. It felt like rest. And so it was, all the times when he touched you, every kiss he left on your skin which lingered inside you like a flame. He was rest.

He looked at you like you had saved him. But you could not understand it. How could anyone help but love a man like him? There was no malice or cruelty in him. If there was any shadow of Mystra, any inkling of hubris, it was not difficult to steer him from it, or to speak to the fear that lay underneath. To love him was like breathing. It was not a skill you had to master, a performance you had to train for, a habit you had to beat into yourself. It felt easy. And that terrified you.

His love for you terrified you even more. It did not demand from you, always pushing for more than you thought you could give. Ever sharpening and honing you like a blade, chipping away at you until you were more, enough, worthy. It was like being buoyed by the Weave. You did not need to struggle to stay afloat. You did not have to swim against it to survive. You could just be.

No one had ever looked at you, or touched you, or loved you like that. So you had explained it away to yourself. Perhaps he was simply grateful. Thankful to be seen and loved for the man he was, a person to be cherished rather than a life to be used. Flattered that you would fight for him. Enamoured with your prowess in combat. Driven by the threat of imminent death. You had not truly thought it would last, if you both survived the Netherbrain. You were prepared to let him go.

But he did not go. Instead, he said, “I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone.” And he asked you to marry him.

You do not know what to do with that.

-----

You can hear him shuffling outside the door. There is a long pause, then the smallest of knocks.

“Are you alright?” He waits, coughs. “I didn’t mean to upset you. If my words have distressed you-”

You want to hide, but the trembling in his voice is too much. You rise to your feet. As the door opens you see that his eyes are glistening and his features have fallen, as though he is on the cusp of collapse. And though the thought that you have hurt him claws at your heart, there is a wall that has sprung up inside you that you do not know how to break.

“I’m sorry.” Your words come out flat, hollow.

He steps towards you hesitantly. You can feel in the lurch of his body that he wants to embrace you, but he does not. Even in this moment, he is thinking of what you want.

“If you wish to end this, I understand. I’ll cherish everything we shared, and I’ll always love you-”

He stops, breathes in sharply, turns away. His chest heaves.

Without warning, you feel a tear roll down your cheek. One begets another, and another, until you are drowning in a flood of the hottest tears that you have ever shed. Hotter than the anguished tears you sobbed through so many nights of gnawing hunger and cramps, when you told yourself that the fight was all that mattered, that the sacrifice was all there was. That you were nothing without them.

You are almost doubled over now. You cover your face with your hands. By instinct, in shame, or in fear - you are not sure which.

“Please, go,” you choke.

“If that’s what you want. If this is the end.” His voice breaks. “I suppose this is goodbye. I always knew it was a colossal stroke of luck, to have been loved by someone like you.”

You find that you are shaking your head, over and over again, as though in a frenzy. Because you cannot lie, but you do not know what the truth is.

“No one has ever…”

He holds you with his gaze, whirling with agony, infused with love.

“I haven’t earned…” You struggle to breathe. “I’m not…”

There is a sudden flicker in his eyes. Is it recognition? When he speaks, there is longing, and the fire of resolution. He cups your face with his hands.

“I love you completely. I love everything about you, every single part of you. You never needed to earn it. You don’t need to fight for it. My love is forever yours, if you want it.”

“Gale-”

He traces his thumb over your cheek, caressing a tear away. “You love me, not for the magic I command, just as I love you, not for the fights you can win.”

You take hold of his hands. You can feel the wall crumbling now, but you are afraid of what is behind it.

“And if I lose? If I fail? If I stop training, fighting, if my muscles sag and I lose my strength? When I am nothing-”

You had not quite realised, until you spoke the words, all of the things you feared.  

“You were never nothing.” His words are so firm, so kind, that they reverberate through you. “You were always everything. And I will love you until I breathe my last, until nothing remains of me but ashes. I will never stop loving you.”

At first, you cannot be convinced of his words. How can they be true? All these years you have fought, all the times you have fallen short. Love must be a fight to be won, a standard to which you cannot measure.

But Gale’s face is bright with the sincerity that illuminates his eyes whenever he looks at you. And in that moment, you let yourself believe him. You let yourself dissolve into him, like a river flowing back into the sea, and you do not fight the current. You lose yourself in his warmth as he wraps himself around you, the smell of sandalwood and smoke, the bittersweet taste of his musk and sweat, the vibrations of his skin against yours. The stars that burst and expand inside you with every surge of his being. You are home.

“I’ll marry you,” you whisper afterwards.

And with his arms around you, you rest.

----

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