#these are the only epilogues i've played so far :')

[mumms-the-word]

New Normal

Day 28 of the BG3 Fic February Challenge

We're almost there guys :') I can't believe I've posted 28 fics about BG3 content here

I have Thoughts(TM) about what all of my Tav/Durges are doing after the game ends, after the epilogue, etc., but I wrote two for today (one was already written lol). If you're curious about what my Durges get up to, I've speculated in the tags since I haven't finished either game yet

Check out my masterlist of BG3 fics!

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28. Describe your Tav/Durge's life after BG3 ends

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Nearly six months had passed since Dani and her little company, as she liked to call them, had defeated the Netherbrain, but her work was far from over. The brain had wrecked her beloved Baldur's Gate, and while she could shrug off the damage to the Upper City districts, she couldn’t ignore the rest of the city. So just as soon as the celebrations were over, she rolled up her sleeves and got to work.

She’d half expected Gale to tire of Baldur’s Gate and ask her to leave it for Waterdeep, but to her surprise, he’d also rolled up his sleeves and offered his services wherever they were needed. She might have been the one dragging him hither and thither, finding new projects to tackle alongside Jaheira’s Harpers and Nine-Fingers’ guild and the Flaming Fist loyal to Ravengard, but Gale’s spellwork was invaluable in every circumstance and he was quick to offer solutions when others struggled to think of any. When he wasn’t researching a way to salvage the crown from the river and reforge it to give to Mystra (or, having completed that, ways of cooling down Karlach's heart, ways of granting Astarion the ability to walk in the sun again, a cure for Shadowheart's Sharran wound, and much, much more), he was following Dani, lending his magical strength to her and those she sought to help.

She only loved him more for it. 

Together they worked to make sure the tiefling refugees were cared for. She knew the city well enough, even as damaged as it was, to know the best place for Danis and Bex to set up their bakery, or find shelter for the tieflings kids, who all seemed content enough to stick with Mol. Dammon was more than all set at his forge, Lakrissa and Alfira had already found a place on their own which they were turning into a music school, and Rolan had his tower, of course (and she would always be grateful for the fact that he opened up the tower’s resources to help with city’s reconstruction, too). It was only all too convenient that, apart of Rolan’s tower in the Upper City, the bakery, the forge, the music school, all of the homes and businesses of the tiefling refugees happened to be in the same district, even the same neighborhood. The Lower City had become a new home for the tieflings, with new families just waiting to take root.

She wasn’t entirely altruistic about her aid, however. As the savior of the city, she negotiated first pick of a house for her mother and another for the Rovers, both in good parts of the Lower City, before finally choosing a property for herself and Gale. Her mother and the Rovers would live near the new tiefling neighborhood where they could join in that community (if they so desired) while she and Gale secured a modest property overlooking the Chionthar and the hills beyond. The balcony didn’t quite offer the same sunset as Gale’s balcony in Waterdeep, but it was close.

It was in her little balcony that they sat now, six months since their victory, a bit tired from their day’s work but satisfied. Dani had decorated her balcony with a comfy loveseat similar to Gale’s in Waterdeep, and it was there that she loved to stretch out, her legs in Gale’s lap as she read a story or wrote down a song or, as their current personal project had become, jotting down notes and passages detailing their adventures in order to turn it into a book someday. Better to get a head start on Volo before he published his account with all the details all wrong. On evenings like this, Gale usually balanced a book on her legs or held the tome gingerly in one hand while his other hand absently smoothed up and down her calves. They spent many an afternoon like that, lost in their own little worlds, reading or writing.

At the moment, however, her legs once more in his lap, she was writing a letter to his mother, the slightly intimidating, dauntless Morena Dekarios. She remembered their first meeting all too well. Gale had insisted they take a break from their work in Baldur’s Gate to pay her a visit and break the news to her of their engagement in person. Dani agreed—after all, fair was fair. He had already met her mother, and her mother positively loved Gale. But Morena was another story entirely.

She was certain Morena would disapprove of her. Dani was hardly an elegant, well-educated woman of class or substance. And though Dani was rarely one to feel shaky nerves or stage fright, something about meeting Gale’s mother had made her palms sweaty and her brain second-guessing every decision that had led up to their meeting. She honestly, truly would have preferred to take on the Netherbain again, alone, than face Gale's mother and suffer her judgment.

But to her surprise, aside from a sharp once over the moment that Morena’s eyes had landed on her, she found Morena nothing but warm and welcoming. Morena was delighted that Gale had finally found someone to love him as much as she did and made Dani charmed and at ease in her lush Waterdhavian home. The only negative emotion Dani could discern from her was that she was a little sad that her boy had decided to live so far away...for now.

“It won’t be forever, right, my love?” Gale had said, turning to look at Dani. And though she wanted to protest a little—Baldur’s Gate was her home, after all, the place that had made her, had shaped her—she always had a hard time saying no to his warm, brown eyes. Or to adventure, when it called, and Waterdeep seemed like a place where adventure came in spades.

“We have work to complete in Baldur’s Gate,” she’d said, “but once that is done…I wouldn’t mind seeing what the City of Splendors has to offer.”

Of course, they were married in Baldur’s Gate, not Waterdeep. That part she had insisted on, feeling as though she might risk Morena’s ire to do so. But Morena had merely waved her hand, unflustered, and said it made sending invitations easier. Not every Dekarios liked to travel, it seemed.

The wedding itself had been quite small, by Waterdavian standards (so Gale had said) but she thought it was perfect. Her mother had made her wedding gown entirely from scratch, hand-stitching the embroidery along the hem of the skirt and around the neckline. Each member of the Merry Rovers had given her a sash to tie around her waist, as was customary for Baldur’s Gate bards. Brann had even gone a little misty-eyed when he put his sash, a soft, worn, light blue linen thing, in her hand. Liara had given her one in pinkish-red, insisting that she had been saving it for her own wedding day, but Dani clearly deserved it more. (Dani of course disagreed and promised to find an exquisite sash for Lee’s wedding, which was, they both agreed, long overdue.) Kellen had chosen a pleasant gold color, while Paraxxel, finally safe and recovering and back with the Rovers, had gone with a dark blue. The day of her wedding, Dani wore all four sashes from all four Rovers, arranging them so that each color was visible. 

Brann had insisted he and the Rovers play for the festivities after the ceremony, but Dani pointed out Liara would very disappointed not to dance, so Brann had relented and said they would only play half the time if Dani and her “fancy wizard fiancé” could conjure up a band to play the other half. Gale had gone one step further and learned a spell to conjure spirit instruments just for the occasion, though Dani and the Rovers had to teach them the music beforehand (not that she minded a reason to play with her old troupe again). 

She and Gale held their ceremony in a park overlooking the river, with tents and rugs and pillows and pieces of furniture scrounged together to make a half-decent ceremony and reception space for all the guests. Gale wanted to cast an illusion to create an entire palatial venue, but Dani told him to save his energy. She didn't care about the venue. She just wanted him there, and she wanted her friends there, and she wanted there to be music and dancing and food and wine and fun.

It didn't have to be perfect. She wasn't perfect. She didn't mind if all they did was pay a priest to say some words in the middle of the street, so long as she was well and truly married to him. Besides, the conglomeration of tents and furniture reminded her of the camps where their love had first formed. It may not impress her wealthier guests, but it was special to her.

They married at sunset, exchanging a kiss as the sun dipped down behind hills. Gale always did look best with the orange-gold light of a setting sun to make every warm tone in his face, eyes, and hair that much warmer. And he’d been swooningly handsome in his wedding garb, a gift from his mother and Tara, carefully selected to match Dani’s hand-made outfit without outshining it. She'd been all too giddy to show him off, to be on his arm. The Gale Dekarios, her new husband.

Nearly all their friends had made it, to her surprise. Astarion had to watch the ceremony from a safe, shadowy distance until the sun was set enough for him to join properly, but Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Jaheira, Minsc, Halsin, and a whole host of friends she’d made along the way—nearly every tiefling she’d bonded with, Jaheira’s kids, Florrick and Duke Ravengard of all people, and several others—they’d all been able to sit to view the ceremony itself. It was made all the more perfect when Gale surprised her with one of many wedding gifts, conjuring a scrying eye that allowed Karlach and Wyll to watch from Avernus and allowing Dani to briefly converse with them. She'd broken down in tears, missing two of her best friends, but she'd been grateful they would witness her wedding at all and that she could speak with them, even for a short time.

The post-ceremony festivities were a bit of a blur, now, a few weeks after all was said and done. Dani remembered getting Gale to dance not just once but several times, and dancing with plenty more people besides. Lee, Paraxxel, her mother, Brann, Shadowheart, even Astarion had deigned to join her for a brief turn. She remembered laughing often, kissing Gale often, hugging everyone she loved often. She remembered thinking that Baldur’s Gate had never looked so beautiful than it did in that park, surrounded by her friends and family, the trees hung with lanterns and fairy lights floating blissfully through the air.

And then it was over, and she and Gale had fallen into bed that night exhausted, only to rise the next morning with plans to return to the restoration of Baldur’s Gate.

That hadn’t happened, of course. They’d both slept in until around noon, and by that time they’d decided to just stay in for a day. Dani had promised Gale they’d go on a honeymoon trip as soon as they could be freed from a few obligations, but Gale had other plans. Since they were just going to stay at home for the day, why not make the most of it?

He’d spent hours conjuring illusions for her, starry galaxy skies and seas of stardust, as he used to do, but also grassy fields to lay in, mountain peaks to gaze out from, views from the deck of a ship sailing to far and exotic lands. In his visions she’d walked hand in hand with him through colorful markets and stood at the edge of canyons and valleys that took her breath away. And when his illusions started to wobble as he yawned and grew tired, she wrapped herself around him and kissed him a hundred times as thanks.

Alas, no rest for the wicked after that. They still had a city to rebuild. Books to write. Letters to answer. Patriars to ignore.

Dani smiled to herself as her pen paused on a sentence to Morena, glancing up at Gale. He was tracing idle circles in her leg with one hand while concentrating carefully on the book in his other hand. The setting sun glinted off his wedding band.

Like hers, it was made of two metals, a simple silver that had formerly been one of her many earrings and a beautiful gold that Gale had carefully selected from his mother's jewelry collection (which she was very quick to offer) to match the gold of Dani's eyes. They'd gotten Dammon to make two simple rings out of the metal and then found a jewelry smith to cut each ring in half, then join opposite halves together, and then engrave them. It was a Waterdhavian marriage custom, one that Dani had fallen in love with as Morena and Gale explained it to her. She flicked her gaze down to admire her own ring, appreciating the craftsmanship and what it meant to her and Gale, before looking back at him. He read on, absorbed in his own little world.

She took advantage of the moment to watch him, admiring his profile, the shape of his lips, how soft his hair looked. Her husband. Every time she thought that word she got a little giddy.

She shifted and reached out to brush her fingers against his shoulder, not wanting to disturb him too abruptly. But whatever had captured his attention, her touch had easily broken. He lowered the book immediately to turn and give her a smile, as if he'd been waiting for her to seek his attention.

“Yes, my love?”

She giggled slightly and sat up, shifting to sit comfortably in his lap. “I just wanted a kiss,” she said, weaving her fingers loosely together behind his neck. “Nothing much.”

“You know I am always willing to oblige you, my love,” he said, matching her smile. He set his book aside and wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning in to brush his lips against hers once, twice, several times.

“I love you,” she murmured against his lips.

“I love you,” was his ready response. Always on his tongue, that little sentence. Always full of warmth and sincerity. He must have said it a thousand times already.

She looked forward to him saying it a thousand times more. Here, in Baldur's Gate, their new home, and beyond, in Waterdeep, on the road to new adventures, in the dark of the night, in the first hours of the morning.

She was happy to be in her city, seeing to its recovery, making sure everyone she loved had a warm home and that the city would be back to normal soon. But she knew deep down that it didn't really matter where she was. She was a Merry Rover, used to roaming. But now she was also Dani Dekarios, and she was content to be with Gale, her husband, wherever their adventures took them.

———

Ardynn gazed up at the stars, her head pillowed on Halsin’s bare arm as they lay, unclothed, on a threadbare blanket in a small clearing in the woods. Withers’ party had come and gone and they were on their way back to Thaniel’s lands, to the community they had built, together. Halsin was eager to regale the children with new stories for their bedtime tales and Ardynn was eager to settle once more into the life she had fought so hard to earn. A home of her own. A life partner to spend her days with. Children to care for and people to help as they built new lives in Thaniel’s recovering lands. 

Halsin had been shocked when she responded to his plans of leaving Baldur’s Gate to build a refuge in Thaniel’s realm by insisting that she would go with him. He’d been quick to mention all that she would be leaving behind, but she shook her head, pressing her hand to his heart and reassuring him that she was certain of what she wanted. She wanted him. She wanted to join him in his new purpose. She wanted to build a refuge with him, away from the city, where nature and society could live in a healthy balance. It was Halsin’s dream, but it had become hers, too.

So for the last six months, they’d worked together to build their little village, taking care of an entire gaggle of children, restoring buildings so that they could become homes for weary refugees, slowly but surely creating a home for themselves.

They had chosen a cabin that had been ripped in half by the destruction of the shadow curse, but had since been made whole again through Thaniel’s intervention. A living tree now grew up from the floorboards to hold part of the ceiling. Thick vines patched the holes in the walls and mossy rocks made up part of the new foundation. They tended their home as if it were another living thing in their care, because it was. 

She couldn’t wait until they were back home again.

The owlbear was coming with them, too. He slumbered deeply several feet away, curled up in the grass. She would have to figure out where he would sleep once they were back home, but she didn’t mind. She loved the big, silly creature.

And he wouldn’t be the only new addition to their community, before long.

She turned her head to watch Halsin. His eyes were closed in meditation, his breathing deep and even, but she knew that he would awake with the barest touch of her hand. She didn’t disturb his meditation just yet. She simply watched, smiling to herself, cradling close the news she would have to give him soon. Perhaps tonight. Perhaps in a few days.

It was easy to keep it a secret for now. For one, the idea terrified her as much as it thrilled her. For another, she didn’t know how Halsin might react to such news. It was still so new to her, it barely felt real. But even she couldn’t ignore the flutters in her body anymore, and after Shadowheart’s subtle comment at the party…

You feel a little more substantial than before.

There was no denying it now. Shadowheart had been teasing, had chalked it up to Ardynn’s new settled lifestyle, but Ardynn knew better. And after a few more moments of conversation, Shadowheart had gleaned part of the situation for herself.

“Swear to keep it a secret?” Ardynn asked her. “I haven’t told anyone else. Not even Halsin.”

“You don’t want to announce that kind of news at a party like this? You never know when we’ll all be gathered together again.”

“I’ll tell everyone in time. In my own way. Once I’m sure I’m not imagining things.”

Shadowheart had relented and kept her silence, but it had been a little thrilling, finally having a friend that was in on the secret. Finally feeling like she wasn’t just imagining the changes she felt. She’d almost asked Shadowheart to do some kind of diagnostic magic, just confirm her suspicions, but she’d held back. 

Now, though, she was absolutely certain. She pressed a hand to her belly and held her breath. There was a new, subtle firmness beneath her fingers, but that wasn’t what she was seeking. She closed her eyes, concentrating.

There. A tiny fluttering, almost so small as to be missed, deep within her. Unnoticeable by her fingers alone, but felt nonetheless.

Hello little one, she whispered silently in her mind.

She opened her eyes again, her face still turned toward Halsin’s. He remained deep in meditation, oblivious to her thoughts, her worries. She didn’t have to worry that he would be a terrible father. That part wasn't necessarily her concern. He lavished love and affection on the children that had accompanied them to live in Thaniel’s realm. She recalled the thought he had shared with her, spoken softly and mournfully, back when they were still in the city and had finally met Jaheira’s family.

I was never afforded a chance to start a family of my own. Serving nature always had to come first.

Now he had his family. He had dozens of children to share his love with, and a community of others who were helping to heal the land and tend to it. He had Thaniel, too, and he had her.

She just hoped there was a little bit of room left over in that big, fierce heart of his for one more.

She couldn’t wait any longer. She reached out and gently brushed the backs of her fingers against his cheek, whispering his name. He turned his head, seeking more of her touch, as his eyes opened slowly. She waited until he was looking at her, fully awake, before smiling and cuddling closer into his side.

“I could stare at you for a lifetime,” he murmured, before she could say anything. The arm around her shifted and she felt his fingertips brush down her side. “Is there something wrong, my heart? I thought you would be asleep by now.”

She shook her head. “No, nothing is wrong. I was just thinking.” She took a deep breath and decided this would go better if she could more easily see his face. She sat up, shifting to settle on her knees and turning to face him. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for several days now.”

“Oh?” He propped himself up on one elbow, looking pleasantly curious. It helped settle the bundle of nerves in her stomach a little. “Tell me, my love.”

She opened her mouth to say the words but found she couldn’t at first. She swallowed and tried again, her words coming out in a small whisper. “I think I am with child.”

She saw the change in his expression immediately. He stared, his lips parting slightly, and then his gaze flicked down to look at her bare middle. A look of sudden, avid, almost boyish curiosity stole over his features and he sat up, pressing one large hand to her stomach, golden nature magic glowing from his palm and sinking into her skin. She held her breath, watching his face as it changed from curiosity to baffled wonder to misty-eyed joy. She panicked a little when he dropped his head down, pressing both hands into the fabric of the blanket beneath him, only to feel her heart wrench when he lifted his head again and she saw the tears gathered in his eyes.

“You are,” he breathed. “You’re with child.”

“Your child,” she said, cradling his face in her hands. Tears were threatening her eyes too now, especially when the first teardrop tracked down his cheek. She rubbed it away with her thumb. “Our child, Halsin.”

He whispered something she didn’t catch, some prayer or praise to Silvanus, and gathered her up in his arms, hugging her fiercely to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and hid her face in his neck, fighting the urge to laugh and to cry all at the same time. He laid back with her still held tightly in his arms before finally letting her go.

She pushed herself up on her hands, gazing down at him and finding his face wet with tears even as he grinned widely, elated. She laughed slightly and wiped the tears from his face. “You’re a bit big to be crying,” she said, recalling the words Oliver had said to him all those months ago. Halsin laughed too, wrapping his arms loosely around her middle.

“How could I not? I am not ashamed.”

“And you’re not upset?” she asked, still brushing her fingertips against his cheeks. She paused to lay a hand on his chest, gazing earnestly down at him. “We have so many children to look after already, and much work to do besides.”

“Upset? Far from it. A child of my own blood…” He caressed her face with his hand, sinking his fingers into her hair, and she couldn’t help but nuzzle into his palm out of habit. “It was a distant dream. I never assumed anyone would wish to stay with me long enough to make that a reality. And yet…here you are. Choosing me again and again.”

“I will always choose you,” she whispered. She pressed her hand more firmly against his chest, over his heart. “Always, Halsin. For as long as you’ll have me.”

He smiled, his face beaming with joy and love, and guided her head down so that they could kiss. She lost herself in his kisses for a moment, happy to be pressed against him, skin to skin, with only the moonlight as their witness. But then she felt his smile against her lips and his laughter against her body.

“I shall have to take better care of you once we are back home,” he murmured.

“And you shall have to be careful not to spoil our child more than you spoil any of the others,” she teased, pulling back to grin down at him. She knew he wouldn’t. Halsin loved all the children equally. It didn’t matter whether they were his blood or not. 

“Our child,” he breathed, still caressing her cheek and gazing lovingly up at her. “I can scarcely believe it.”

She smiled and bent forward for another kiss. “I love you, Halsin,” she whispered.

“And I love you, my heart.” He pressed his hand to her belly again, turning his head to direct his voice downward toward it. “And I love you, little one.”

She giggled and rolled to the side until she was curled up against his side again. She guided one of his hands to rest on her belly and snuggled in close, closing her eyes. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

“Nor I, my heart. Nor I.”

[aashi-heartfilia]

What MaoMao feels for Jinshi...

(Vol 5 epilogue discussion)

Love, duh. She wouldn't let just anyone choke her to death. Isn't it obvious? She just doesn't realise it yet because of her repressed emotions. I've seen a lot of bad takes and people hating on the Vol 5 epilogue, saying it's one heck of a disaster but honestly, it's not. Here's why:

I think it does a very good job of humanizing Jinshi, the imperial brother. Before this point, we were always given a picture perfect image of Jinshi, in his most angelic form...but after seeing this, it looks like he's very much capable of murder, lol. No seriously!

Previously, Jinshi was always all sunshine and roses and this is the first time we see a pinnacle of his anger and frustration taking a form.

Honestly, anyone would be angry. Jinshi has done so much for MaoMao and almost everyone close to him knows that he has eyes on her and only her from pretty early on in the series and only MaoMao is the one person who seems to be in the dark. Or more precisely pretending to be in the dark.

She is literally running away from her own feelings and that's what made Jinshi so frustrated.

It was the same thing in the 'Frogging chapter' (yeah, that's what we're calling it). She was "playing the role of an ignorant maid who's in the dark as to what her supiriors are upto". Jinshi was trying to tell MaoMao that he is the imperial brother and he does in fact like her but that never happened because MaoMao kept pretending that it was a frog.

Same here, even if he didn't say it outright, he was dropping so many hints! Who else could have gifted MaoMao a Moon hairpin? Who would have given her beautiful dresses to wear in the banquet?

Jinshi is called the Moon Prince for a reason and that hairpin had a moon and opium poppy. even other people recognised that it was given by him to MaoMao like Rishu's half sister, so a smartass person like Mao should be able to guess that this was all from Jinshi.

The same person who's busy day and night made preparations for her, only to see some unknown random person dancing with her and kissing her hand.

He was jealous and it's only human.

In fact, I'm glad that he's not a complete saint.

He was mad at MaoMao for pretending to be in the dark when he has gone to great lengths to take care of her, and he was hurt that the same person would even suggest him to marry someone else, i.e. consort Rishu.

He was trying to tell her how he feels, and she wasn't even willing to acknowledge anything that is between them.

Adding to the fact, she knew the thing between Basen and Rishu and yet she chose to turn a blind eye, to the love that could blossom between them and suggested her name to Jinshi. It was wrong on so many levels because MaoMao knew everything and yet chose to give the most political suggestion she could think of.

Maybe because of her repressed emotions, she herself has become heartless while making decisions but just like a double edged sword, it has consequences.

So it was a mixture of anger, hurt and jealousy for Jinshi.

And he wanted MaoMao to feel the same.

The same amount of frustration he has felt as MaoMao keeps running away, just because it would be a little troublesome.

Yeah, he's shitty just like that, and so is she.

(and we love them for it ❤️)

Does it justify what he did? No. But it seems like MaoMao herself doesn't even mind it that much. She looked like well within her comfort zone. Otherwise, we know how capable she is of defending herself. But she was there, pretty much sitting with Jinshi until she dominated him completely and made her escape.

Guess they're both far from the vanilla couple that are usually expected in these kinds of series and I absolutely love it.

She was just mad he didn't poison her instead, like he promised her, to which he replied he would NEVER let her poison herself (because he also loves her a lot too, duh)

This entire scene looks more like a battle for sexual dominance, which MaoMao won.

She always has, since the very first day he saw the real her ❤️

[mimeticgoblin]

After months of data-mining BG3 dialogue trees, I came across this tasty morsel of an illicit Minthara x Gale interaction in Minthara's epilogue:

309. Nightwarden Minthara: Wizard.

208. Player: Paladin.

575. Nightwarden Minthara: Hmph.

341. Nightwarden Minthara: Human.

93. Player: I refuse to believe you still don't know my name after all we went through together.

364. Nightwarden Minthara: Your tressym is called Tara and she dislikes your beard. She is wrong - it is a fine beard. Dashing, even.

569. Nightwarden Minthara: You enjoy travel and adventure, but miss Waterdeep whenever you are away. This is because your mind is restless, and can only find peace in familiar places.

587. Nightwarden Minthara: Your ambition is not cruel, but you fear that if you indulge it, you will lose yourself in the mysteries of the Weave and unravel the world.

548. Nightwarden Minthara: You are afraid of so many things, and it is that fear that keeps you true to yourself.

537. Nightwarden Minthara: I know a great deal about you, Gale Dekarios. And that is precisely why I know how enjoyable it is to tease and befuddle you.

513. Player: Drop the act, Minthara. I know you want to give me a hug.

268. Nightwarden Minthara: Bah.

194. [TagCinematic]

296. Nightwarden Minthara: Do not tell the others, or I'll set fire to your library.

300. Player: I won't tell a soul.

36. Nightwarden Minthara: You are many things Gale: the Wizard of Waterdeep, a man who has touched divinity, and the owner of a rather dashing beard.

39. Nightwarden Minthara: But a keeper of secrets you are not.

500. Nightwarden Minthara: I expect everyone will know of my affection for you by morning, but it does not matter. Tomorrow, I will be far from here.

♡ ♡ ♡

P.S. For anyone interested, I've added the link to the specific dialogue tree I read for this excerpt. You can ctrl+f using the dialogue numbers to jump right to their conversation. The doc is in a coded format, which I've been able to convert by downloading the doc and then opening it up again ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

P.S.S. IDK if this dialogue appears in-game as I've never played as Gale. So it might have been cut from the final game. But hey, why play the game again for the 7th time when you can spend half a year reading dialogue trees like an unhinged creature (⊙_⊙)

P.S.S.S. This version is the extended edition with the forbidden Gale x Minthara hug ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[galedekarios]

gale as a professor at blackstaff academy

i have to say that at first i wasn't too sold on the (then still fanon) idea of a professor ending because of gale's own prior anecdote about being irked by his previous students and their inadequacies.

i thought it might not be a good fit for him as far as professions go.

but reading the epilogue files, i have come around on it.

i think it's just one more way in which he's really grown into himself, become content with who he was in the past, the mistakes he made and what he has learned from them, and the person he wants to be in the future:

Player: You? A teacher? I'd hardly say you set the best example for impressionable young wizards... Gale: I think it makes perfect sense. devnote: Surprised you wouldn't recognise this, a tiny bit offended you don't trust him to do this Gale: Who better to warn of the perils of misusing magic than someone who was once only a wayward sneeze away from destroying a mid-sized settlement? devnote: playing up to his past a bit, you can imagine this is how he acts with his students Tara the Tressym: Don't remind me of those terrible times, Mr Dekarios. My blood pressure has only just recovered.

a few more cute banters & things we learn about gale and his new teaching position:

tara swipes at students who fall asleep in gale's classes, which he himself doesn't mind. he, too, slept through some of them (like his calishite lessons):

Player: Perhaps that's a good thing. I'm sure they're far better students than I was... Gale: Ah, so you still remember our little lesson? devnote: A little bit bashful, it was a vulnerable moment for him Gale: 'Teaching' you was hardly an effort at all. Not like my present cohort of apprentices. devnote: Complimentary, pulling the thought back to the teaching element after getting lost in the memory of the moment Gale: They try their best, of course - when they can manage to stay awake. devnote: Not upset by this - he slept through his fair share of classes as a student Tara the Tressym: The cheek of them! Nothing a well-placed swipe from Tara can't fix, though.

2. gale offered to teach more subjects than illusion via simulacra:

Player: Only a professor? With your expertise, I'd have thought you could teach every kind of magic going... Gale: I did offer, as a matter of fact. devnote: Secretly glad the player thinks so highly of him Gale: However, the Blackstaff insisted I couldn't teach every subject, nor could the simulacra of myself I offered to create for that purpose. devnote: Reluctantly accepts that this was the right decision Gale: So, I've settled for teaching the art of illusion. Magic to confound the senses, to render the impossible into reality, and to allow expression of that most magical attribute of all - imagination. devnote: Selling it a bit - he wants to make sure you appreciate how cool this is

3. gale has told his students about the player's adventures and will invite a player to be a guest lecturer:

Player: I found the love of my life. I'd say I'm pretty happy. Gale: And I couldn't be happier for you. A fitting reward for the sacrifices you made in getting here. Gale: I've told my students plenty of tales about our escapades. You're something of a hero to them, you know. Gale: I'd be delighted to introduce you to my current cohort - as a guest lecturer, perhaps? I'm sure they'd have plenty of questions for you. Player: It would be my pleasure. Gale: Excellent. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the allure of sharing your expertise. Gale: Of course you'll be most welcome to stay with me in my tower- Tara the Tressym: Ahem. Gale: My apologies, Tara. That would be our tower.

4. his students find him somewhat intimidating due to his backstory with mystra and the orb:

Gale: Well, that was quite lovely. I'm glad you're as pleased to see me as I am you. Gale: I have to say, I'm quite grateful to just be 'Gale' for the evening. Gale: I fear my students find me somewhat intimidating, due to my erm, explosive former reputation. I seem to put the fear of the gods into them. devnote: He plays up to his reputations a bit, so he isn't overly surprised Gale: Or the fear of Mystra, to be more specific. Gale: I surrendered the Crown of Karsus to her, as I told you I would. And in return, she cured me of the orb at last. Gale: Even now, I struggle to put the feeling into words. It was like exhaling for the first time, after holding my breath for so very long. Gale: Of course, I haven't clarified with my students that the orb is no longer a threat. The legend of my explosive capabilities is an excellent means of controlling a classroom. Too good, if anything.

5. he wants to teach his students that there is fun in studying magic:

Gale: I spend most of my time trying to convince them how much fun the study of magic can be, but it'd be easier to crack a smile on an intellect devourer than some of my pupils... devnote: Despairing a little, doesn't understand why they aren't all as passionate as he was Player: Or on a mind flayer, perhaps... Gale: Smiling may no longer come easy to you, but I've seen how your tentacles twitch at my jokes. Even the ones I'm not entirely certain I was trying to make... devnote: Last sentence a tiny bit self-conscious, aware that people sometimes find him ridiculous. Gale: Still, I hoped my students might be a little more open to the playful side of such magic.

anyhow, i hope this was insightful to someone! 🖤

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field XVI

summary: you can finally go home.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do.). implications and mentions of abuse and some non-graphic violence, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation.

a/n: i can't believe this is it :') the final part (excluding the epilogue which is coming v soon). thank you all so so so much for all the love on this fic! it means so much to me that you guys enjoyed it! but don't get too sad (like me) bc i am not ready to let them go so i'll probably do like blurbs and stuff ab this series so stick around for those!

series masterlist // playlist

"Y/N/N. Do you have your clothes from home?" Coryo asks, pulling the boat back up onto the shore. The guns were gone. He's free to go home if he wants.

"Yes." You nod. "I couldn't get rid of them if I wanted." You chuckle, looking up into the woods behind the cabin, hoping Sejanus is long gone by now.

"Okay. You're gonna stay here, just for a few days, and then I'll come get you before the train leaves. I'll take you to Two with me, just wear those. You'll fit in better."

"Okay..." You nod, nervous about being out here all alone for so long.

"I'll come bring you food as much as I can." He knew it would be a long hike each way to come see you, but he would have to carve out the time. He looks up at you quickly from digging through his own bag when he hears you sniffle. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I- uhm..." You clear your throat, fanning your eyes to keep any tears from falling. "I'm just scared." You try and laugh it off, shaking your head slightly.

"Don't be scared." Coryo shakes his head, dropping the bag to grab your shoulders. "Hey, you're gonna be okay, Darling, but we don't have another choice. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"I know, I know that..." You sniff, looking up at him. "Is she dead?"

"Yes." He answers quickly. "I buried her. She can't hurt you." He promises. Was that true? No, definitely not. There was no trace of her after the shot besides her earring on the ground,  but he had hit her. He was sure of it. There was no reason to tell you that, though, just to scare you more. You couldn't go back to town, there was nowhere for you to hide while peacekeepers searched every inch of the populated part of the District for days while he waited for his train.

"Okay." You whisper, taking a deep, shakey breath as you look around at the suddenly scary forested area around you. The rain had started to clear up, which helped with the sun peeking through the clouds to brighten up the lake. If Lucy Gray hadn't ruined everything, you would probably be getting ready to keep moving.

"Just, try to relax out here. Okay? Go for a swim, just enjoy the fresh air." He smiles softly, brushing some hair back out of your face as he tries to make you feel better.

"I've had enough of the woods for the rest of my life." You scoff, shaking your head under his hold.

"I know, Y/N/N, I'm sorry. It's only a few days. Like I said, I'll come back for you whenever I'm free." Even if he could only stay for five minutes before he had to turn around and make the trip back to town, he would do it. "Then we'll figure everything out. I'll handle it."

"I... I just want to go home, but I can't." You cry, letting him wipe your tears as your chest flushes with the emotion.

Coryo winces at your tears. He hates seeing you cry, and he has seen it far more times than he would have liked to in the last few months. "I'm going to figure it out. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you ever again. I promise." He says softly, trying to get you to look at him.

You lean into his palm, closing your eyes as you try desperately to pull it together. You were exhausted, but this was the last thing Coryo needed right now. "I'm sorry. I'm just having a moment."

"I know. You're okay." He chuckles, planting a kiss on your forehead and pulling you into a hug, rocking your body gently back and forth. "You know, I think the last time you said that to me was the day I realized I was in love with you." He hums, squeezing your shoulders gently.

You laugh, which makes him smile. It's what he wanted. "I feel like that's a bit dramatic."

"No, it's true." He grins, craning his neck to look down at you. "You defended me, and you listened to me, and you looked just so pretty doing it..."

You bury your face in his shirt to hide your blush.

"You're always on my team, and I appreciate that. I really do." He explains, satisfied that he's made you feel at least a little better. "I hope you know I'm always on your side, too."

You nod slightly, smiling through your tears as you look up at him. "I know."

"Good." Coryo whispers, kissing your nose. "I love you."

"Really?" You whisper, eyes lighting up as you wring your hands together against his chest in front of you. "You're not just saying that because I'm crying on you?" You laugh slightly.

"No, I do." He nods in confirmation, grinning down at you in admiration. "There's no one else in this world I can trust as much as I can trust you."

"Then why'd you give her your scarf?" You ask, tilting your head. "It looked... valuable."

"It was. It belonged to my mother..." He says solemnly. He suddenly shakes his head, mocking your expression as he changes the tone. "You really were dead to the world, huh? I was holding it, and she just asked if she could see it. Then she didn't give it back." Coryo explains, raising an eyebrow at you. "Why, are you jealous of the dead girl?"

You roll your eyes with a smile on your face, attempting to shove him away.

"Hey, I'm kidding." He laughs, pulling you close again by your wrists. "Don't you trust me?"

"Okay, yes, I trust you." You giggle as he drops your wrists, sliding his hands over your waist.

"And you love me?" Coryo asks, urging you on.

"And I love you." You grin, nodding slightly.

"That's my girl..." He hums, running a hand lower down your side, thumb running over your midsection as he leans in to kiss you. He had you right where he wanted you, he'd wanted to say that for ages. Only since he even clued into the fact that the buzz he gets under his skin when he catches you smiling, anyway. Realistically, you were something he had always wanted. Picturing his future over the last few years when he was dragging himself out of bed every morning desperate to arrive to class on time even on an empty stomach, his daydreams of his success always included your own, as well.

Now, it was only the two of you. He was so right about you, you were perfect in every way. Smart, obedient to him and only to him, but you fought for what you wanted. You knew struggle, pressure, and soul crushing expectations in the same way he did. Through all of it, you were there for him. You were beautiful- and he was the only one smart enough to see past your occasional outbursts. No one knew how to navigate you like he did, and he was lucky that few people ever bothered to try.

The most beautiful girl in all of the Capitol, and you were his. He meant it when he said that he would never let anyone hurt you. He couldn't let anyone take you from him.

"Do you know where we're going? Where Tigris and your Grandma'am are living?" You whisper, curled up next to Coryo on the train as it pulls into the Capitol station. You're holding the orange silk scarf in your hands, using it as a small blanket in the cold train car. You had spent most of your time out by the lake trying to clean it- but dirt was a stubborn stain. You'd have to be more thorough once you had access to cleaning supplies again. You couldn't let such a lovely piece of clothing go to waste, especially when it was so valuable to him.

"I don't..." Coryo mumbles in response, staring out the window as you lean your head against his shoulder, knees tucked up to your chest. "They shouldn't be hard to find, though."

The wheels screech to a slow stop in the familiar city, and you can't help but smile at the endless sea of grey architecture. It wasn't anything like the forest in Twelve, and you loved it. The door slides open and some peacekeepers enter, drawing both of your attention as you sit up away from him.

"Dr. Gaul is expecting you both in her lab immediately." One of them informs you, and you nod a little bit, looking nervously over at your boyfriend.

You hung off his arm for the entire car ride and all the way to the lab as you're escorted by the men in the matching uniform to his own. Your clothes were dirty, despite how many times you cleaned them back in District Twelve. You had cleaned them obsessively throughout the last couple of months, but the water was never quite clear enough to be helpful. It was vile. Surely you smell unpleasant due to this, and you were hoping you would have a shower before confronting anyone from your previous life, but clearly, you weren't so lucky.

"Do I stink?" You whisper, trying to avoid the echo of the large room as your heels click across the linoleum flooring.

"Not any more than I do." Coryo answers, a small smile pulling on his lips as he glances down at you.

You giggle, gently slapping his chest as he removes his hat.

"Congratulations, Mister Snow, Miss Y/L/N. You've passed all my tests." You look up at Dr. Gaul for the first time as she speaks to you, tossing something into a pool on her floor. "I've asked President Ravenstill to grant you both a full pardon, effective immediately."

You don't say anything as you both stop in front of the tank in the ground, staring into it as Coryo revels in the shock. "I also told him that you are too promising to be wasted in the Districts. So you will be studying under me at the Capitol University."

While she speaks, you pull Tigris's coat tighter around yourself at the slimy, vicious look of whatever creatures are splashing around inside that tank that she is continuously feeding.

"We can't afford university." Coryo answers on your behalf, forcing you to look up at the woman across from you. While you were incredibly grateful, you were scared. Things were complicated back at your parents' home, and even with a legal form of forgiveness, it's not likely your father will see it the same way. You couldn't go back, and he wasn't likely to give you a dime or let you go free. Within the week, you'd probably die from an "unknown illness" contracted in the Districts if he found out you were home.

"A certain Mister Strabo Plinth has offered to pay for everything you need while you're there. All for being such good friends to his Sejanus." Dr. Gaul explains and your heart drops in your chest. You can't help but wonder if he's even still alive out there, in the North. "He doesn't know quite how good a friend you were, of course. I never mentioned your little recording. Quite impressive, Mister Snow, how you sent your only friend to the grave just to get my attention."

"That's not what I did." Coryo shakes his head at the allegation.

He squeezes your arm in warning, knowing this topic was a fine line to walk. "Are you sure? Because I think that won you the Plinth Prize, after all."

"Sejanus Plinth is not dead." You blurt out without thinking. She tilts her head at you, looking at you intensely, a knowing smile growing on her lips.

"Oh?" She asks, and internally you struggle for a saving grace while Coryo furrows his brow at you. You hadn't seen Sejanus since you sent him away, but you did try looking for him in your days out there alone. You had to believe he was alive, after you gave him his way out.

"Well, I heard that he had escaped in Twelve. As far as I know, they never found a body. He planned on running off anyway. That's likely what he did." You explain, clearing your throat.

"I agree. That is likely, but the odds he would survive out there..." She shakes her head slightly, dropping another treat into the tank as the creatures snap at it. "Anyway, the president has agreed to another year of the games! People watched, and I have you kids to thank for that."

You and Coryo wear matching grins now, posture perfect to match your collective pride.

"But before I take you under my wing, after everything you've seen out there in the real world, let me ask you one final time." Dr. Gaul says, looking pointedly between the two of you. "What are the Hunger Games for?"

You look up at your boyfriend, nodding for him to answer. "I used to think that the Hunger Games were a punishment for the districts. Then, I thought they served as a warning to us here in the capitol, about the threat the districts posed. Now I know the whole world is an arena. And we need the Hunger Games every year to remind us all who we truly are."

"And who are you, do you determine?" Coryo looks down at you as she speaks.

"We are the Victors." You finish with a proud smile, looking at the woman across from you who seems more than pleased with your answer.

"Coriolanus, what are you doing back so soon?" Your mom greets him as she opens the door of your childhood home, smiling sadly, confused as to the condition of his return.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am." He smiles politely, grey uniform cap now clutched to his chest. "I proved to be exceptional in my training. Dr. Gaul saw it was better Y/N and I work under her at the University."

"Y/N?" Your mom gasps, reaching up to cover her mouth with her hand. "She's alive?"

"I assure you, she is safe." Coriolanus nods. "Now, may I speak with your husband? I won't take up much of his time." He brushes past her, entering the home without waiting for permission.

"Well, dear, where is she?" Your mom asks, letting him pass and closing the door quickly. "Why hasn't she come home?"

"I think you know why she hasn't come here." He hums, looking around. "Where is he?"

"His study." Your mom answers quietly, gesturing up the stairs. "I'll walk you."

"No need. I know where I'm going." He gives her a small smile in return, following the familiar path toward your room.

He stops in front of your father's study, knocking before taking a step back. The force of habit leads him to stand at attention while he waits for permission to enter.

"I'm busy, don't bother me." Your father's voice echoes through the ornate lining on the door. Then he realizes, he doesn't need permission. Not anymore.

Coriolanus huffs, opening the door and stepping in.

"I said-" Your father growls, slamming his pen down on the desk before he looks up and takes in the grey of Coriolanus's decorated peacekeeper uniform. "Coriolanus."

"Sir." He nods in response, closing the door quietly behind himself. "May I sit?" He asks coldly, gesturing to the chair across from him.

"Please." Your father nods, brow furrowed as to what the blonde boy could possibly want, or what he is doing back so soon.

"Y/N isn't here, son." Your father sighs. "She-"

"I know that." Coriolanus interrupts, placing his hat on the desk between them.

"You know where she is." Your father's tone is unsurprised, but questioning.

"I do." He confirms, back straight in the chair. He had always been afraid of your father, but this was built on an admiration. He reminded him of what little he remembered about his own father. This morphed into anger slowly but surely over the last few years, picking up several hints either in your appearance, demeanor, or choice of words which painted an incredibly unflattering picture of who the man sitting in front of him truly was.

Your dad hums in response, eyes locked on the boy. "How was your summer?"

The question catches Coryo off guard, but he puts all his focus into maintaining his poise. He has the upper hand, here, and he has to keep reminding himself of that. "It was good. Certainly an eye-opening experience, the people out there are very... different."

"Then what brought you back so soon?" His neglect to even ask where you were, if you were okay, if you were even alive makes Coryo's blood boil in his veins.

"Dr. Gaul." Coriolanus states, swallowing before he continues. "She granted your daughter and I a full pardon in exchange for taking an internship under her at the university. After all, that is her dream, is it not?"

Your father's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of your name. "It was." He agrees.

"Is." Coriolanus corrects him, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. "Strabo Plinth has offered to pay our way."

"Of course he has." Your dad chuckles, but not an ounce of humour reaches his eyes. "Self righteous bastard..."

"Seeing as you don't care about her as much as you care about your own reputation, he saw it would be a way to repay her for her loyal friendship to his son. She saved his life twice, after all." Coryo ignores your father's comment, watching as the gears turn in his head, trying to remember the second time.

"I know you think you understand my daughter, Coriolanus, but there are some parts of her you will never know. Not truly." Your father responds coolly. "So, I'm not sure what she has told you, but-"

"But nothing." Coryo cuts him off, leaning back in his seat. "Here is what is going to happen. You will have nothing to do with her, her life, her mistakes, or her decisions any longer. Since, in your own words, you see her as such a burden, I am willing to free you of that."

Your dad grits his teeth together, and it's his turn to lean forward. "Coriolanus Snow, you will not speak to me that way in my own home. Y/N is my daughter, and I shall be involved as I please and I shall do with her what I deem appropriate to consequent her actions."

"No." Coryo replies sternly, standing up abruptly, unabashed by the sound of the chair scraping across the wooden floor as he slams his fist on the desk. "She is eighteen. I  take responsibility for her now, and unless you want to lose everything you and Highbottom have built, you will cut me in on every dime you make. Do you understand?"

Your dad laughs again. "And who will believe you, Coryo? You're just kids. You don't know what you're talking about. Whatever she told you is untrue. Simple as that."

"Would you like a list?" Coryo threatens. "Is that a risk you're willing to take, Y/D/N?"

He sighs, standing up to look eye to eye with him, clearly seething with the disrespectful use of his first name. "She's more trouble for you than it's worth, Son."

"That is my decision to make." Coryo says through gritted teeth.

"Suit yourself." Your dad raises his hands in defeat, careful to not show any fear. Coriolanus could see through it, though. He's won, and he knows it; it was a great deal, if your father was smart enough to see it that way. "How much do you want? Money is nothing to me."

"More than Highbottom gets." Coriolanus requests plainly, grabbing his hat and placing it back over his head. "And you'll pay for our wedding." He adds casually, pushing the discarded chair back into its place. "You'll pay for as many dresses and parties as she wants, every drink, every slice of cake, and every last flower she wishes for exactly how she wishes for it. No compromises, and no surprise appearances from you. Are. We. Clear?" He speaks clearly, intentionally enunciating every word with a trace of venom.

"Crystal." Your father scoffs, taking a drink from the whiskey glass on his desk.

Coriolanus nods, giving him a small smile. "Good. I'll be expecting the money orders every other week." He grins smugly, giving your father a quick bow before heading for the door, stopping as his hand brushes over the handle. "All due respect, Sir, which I deem to be very little, but what you have done to your daughter over all these years is what has made her into the woman you hate. Don't think I was the only one who noticed, and you would deserve every bit of harm we could do to your name. If you ever so much as speak to her again, I will kill you myself."

Coryo glances back at your father's expression only briefly before leaving. He couldn't resist the satisfying look of loathing and anger on the man's face.

The small smile sticks as he walks down the stairs, hearing the crystal glass shatter as it's thrown against the door behind him.

Finally, you were totally even.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey ,  @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

taglist is closed for coryo unfortunately, but my requests for him are open!! so send me all your suggestions!! requests here!!

[merrycrisis-if]

hello! I just read the latest update and your writing is phenomenal as always. I've only played through Qiu's route so far and I'm so happy with both MC and Qiu's progression. however, this made me a bit worried for the future since so many commitments were made. may I ask how many chapters are left (if you know) or how close we are to the end? thank you for writing and sharing with us!

Ahh! Merry crisis is a lot more "bounded" in scope and chapters than CT:OS so I actually have an answer for this!

Rough outline below the cut (In case purist folks want absolutely no spoilers!)

Prologue: before 24th Dec

Chapter 1: 24th Dec (published)

Chapter 2: 25th Dec (published)

Chapter 3: 26th Dec (published)

Chapter 4: 27th Dec (published)

Chapter 5: 28th Dec (Nat arrives! Hang out at the conference/after... or not)

Chapter 6: 29th Dec (free day to hang with ROs/fam, head to island? 🏝)

Chapter 7: 30th Dec (MYSTERY EVENT👀 largely family related)

Chapter 8: 31st Dec (New year's eve! Decisions to be made... 🎆)

Epilogue: 1st Jan and beyond (vignettes of MC's future)

[lime-bloods]

had a really interesting conversation with a friend this week about the Ultimate Self versus character growth, particularly in relation to Vriska and the hell tiers. in the past I've advocated pretty strongly for the Ultimate Self as core to Homestuck's themes, and as part of that I've been pretty defensive against its detractors because I think the idea is largely misunderstood and unappreciated. and while I still believe an appreciation for what the Ultimate Self represents is a really important tool for understanding Homestuck proper, now that we've moved out of Homestuck and into a new fictional framework I've come around on the importance of being able to critique the concept as well.

there's been a lot of talk lately about whether classes and aspects are really reflective of "reality"; whether Homestuck really says that someone might be defined by arbitrary labels applied to them by a video game - even if that video game literally is responsible for the propagation of reality - or if these are merely roles that we are expected to play but are free to break away from. I've always been in the latter camp; I've made quite a few posts now about how the class-based roles assigned to heroes of Sburb are reflective of the class-based roles assigned to trolls on Alternia, which are themselves biologically-essentialist assumptions that play a similar role to sex and gender among humans. and the Epilogues attest to the queer reinterpretation of such biologically-essentialist social structures; gender is an arbitrary label perpetrated only by cruel, self-serving cycles, and can be cast off if one's self-liberation calls for it. so the conclusion one might draw from this is that the Ultimate Self and the classpect are in a way opposed to each other; that the Ultimate Self is androgynous, without blood, and without class.

however.

it must be recognised that while Homestuck is one story, the Epilogues detail the exploits of characters who have stepped outside of that story and - depending on which Volume you're reading, and the outlook of each individual character - either into another story or outside of "narrative" altogether. and within a narrative, the roles assigned to each character do have special significance. just as one labelled "Thief" is expected to play the role of self-interested antagonist, and one labelled "jadeblood" is expected to live out her life looking after larvae underground, the "narrative" places certain expectations on characters designated as "boys" and "girls". as far as the narrative is concerned, characters are not "people", but rather ideas to be played with, and that's exactly what the Ultimate Self is - the "idea" at the core of a character's being. so it could equally be argued that a character's class, aspect, blood colour or gender are part and parcel with their Ultimate Self, and therefore that, stepping outside of the rules that govern Homestuck, shrugging off the Ultimate Self could be just as important as - or interconnected with - shrugging off gender.

crucially, Homestuck is a story about teenagers, and there is baggage that comes with this conceit. the coming-of-age story is one of self-discovery; the disrobing of the cocoon of childhood and the uncovering of the "true self" underneath is core to the genre. but importantly, at least in Homestuck's case, this never actually means becoming an "adult". coming-of-age stories are about teenagers because teenage makes for great stories, and as such it's only natural that a Lord of Time interested in creating a neverending story would try to engineer neverending teenagerdom. allusions to this abound, particularly surrounding Alternia, a planet populated entirely by teenagers who awaken from literal cocoons every evening only to return to their cocoons of a morning when it comes time to sleep. their quadrants seem hand-designed for the express purpose of making not "healthy" relationships but compelling ones, driven by the confusion of teenagers learning about themselves for the first time. by pretending to be a story "about" reproduction, Homestuck uses the fact that its heroes "enter right around the cusp of sexual maturity" as a smokescreen for the truth that Homestuck characters are expected to "come into" their genders in just the same way they "come into" their class and aspect roles.

in this sense, while the attainment of the Ultimate Self may superficially represent the dispersing of narrative contrivances like "timelines" and "alternate selves", it also follows Homestuck's "children coming into themselves" script to the letter. and to uphold our "full potential" as the Ultimate version of Self, as Hussie describes it, is to fetishise the prenatal kernel from which our entire life grows, untouched by any worldly corruption; to insinuate that we grow forward by stripping away our outer layers like insects, rather than by embracing each new layer as it comes, is a romanticism of childhood that borders on the reactionary. when viewed through this lens, what is "true" is also what is "innocent" - just as the world Before-Us, before Lord English's "corrupting influence", is innocent, Edenesque before the fall brought on by a serpent's bargain.

the Epilogues and more pertinently Beyond Canon, meanwhile, are very essentially not about teenagers at all! breaking free of the old cycle of storytelling also means breaking free of that expectation to stay a child forever, and in a world no longer inhabited primarily by children, how much need is there, really, for a "true self" that determines everything about your being? within the bounds of Homestuck, we can accept that characters like Meenah and Vriska must by their very natures be selfish because selfish teenage girls fill a vital narrative niche, and because when you grow up in a situation like Vriska's, being selfish isn't necessarily the same as being a villain. but becoming an adult means growing up, and among grown ups, on a planet where selfishness is no longer a survival mechanism, being selfish often does make you a villain, and there is an expectation that in order to continue being a hero one must learn and change. and in a world where a Thief no longer has to be selfish, how then can it still be said that every character has an immutable platonic Truth at the essence of their being?

the presence of the sprites in Vriska's purgatory illustrate this idea perfectly. because a sprite is an "idea", they represent a step toward the Ultimate Self, just as the sprite^2 is another step closer. but a sprite is also a ghost image; a photograph captured of a person in a particular moment in time, forever unchanging. this is why the sprites seem to simply disappear at the conclusion of a game of Sburb: while they are immensely powerful and vastly knowledgeable, their significance is tied to a specific purpose within a specific context. whether they simply cease to exist or commit deliberate suicide-by-meteor on the dying battlefield of skaia, they demonstrate an understanding that as great as it is to be an immortal and omniscient sprite, they lose their purpose for existing once the game of Sburb ends: just as the Ultimate Self loses all significance and purpose once the game called Homestuck ends. Davepeta demonstrates this exact superfluousness within the Plot Point; while they may have been a fountain of knowledge about all things arcane within Homestuck, when it comes to actually "growing up", there's not a single piece of advice they can give!

finally, and probably most crucially of all, Beyond Canon has not merely stepped outside the bounds of the rules of the original Homestuck, but outside of its authorial purview altogether. if escaping into Universe C means escape from Lord English's expectations for what it means to be a "man" or a "woman" or a "Page" or a "lowblood", then escaping into Beyond Canon also means leaving behind any of Andrew Hussie's expectations for what it means to "be your Ultimate Self". this is exactly why the story is CALLED Beyond Canon, and is central to exactly the kind of questions it is asking about canon; if Hussie is no longer in charge, why should "the Ultimate Self in Hussie's Own Words" (as linked above) remain the "canon" answer? and these characters' new home, in the custody of a diverse team of new creatives, is reflected by the multiple competing narrative forces within the story; it's probably significant that the character who shows the most reverence and concern for his Ultimate Self is Dirk, the very same character who wishes to bring Homestuck back to its heyday with throwbacks to nostalgic and outdated plot artifices like Sburb! no doubt the story's other key schemers, like its various Calliopes, have their own points of view on the meaning of the Ultimate Self and Homestuck's other mysteries, and the writers responsible for this story in our own world should be allowed to have their own views as well. in order to live up to its very premise, Beyond Canon can and must be allowed to offer up different opinions and interpretations to those of the original text.

ultimately this is key to understanding why Beyond Canon is not a traditional "sequel" and should not be thought of as such; why it was never Homestuck 2, only Homestuck^2, and then dropped the 2 altogether. in much the same way Homestuck was a story not "controlled" by its fans but rather written in continuous conversation with them, Beyond Canon, now finally under the control of fans, is a story in conversation with the text that came before it. in the end this is what any narrative-about-narrative boils down to; there can be no "reality" in fiction, only a version of reality as told by a given narrator. and while we are forced to take a narrator at their word when offered no other options, that doesn't mean every subsequent narrator is going to narrate the same story from the same point of view! it's important to have an understanding of the Ultimate Self as portrayed by Andrew Hussie because it deepens your appreciation of the original Homestuck, and a well-formed appreciation for Homestuck will in turn increase your understanding of Beyond Canon: not because HS and BC are the "same story" by any means, but because better knowing HS will make us better prepared to engage in the conversation being made when BC deconstructs, subverts, and even critiques the story we already know.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Now that I've had a smoke and touched grass...

Feels like this took forever to finish even though it halfway wrote itself. Didn't wanna make you guys wait too long because that cliffhanger was cruel even for me honestly.

I know where this is ending, but I'm not sure how many chapters it's going to take to get there. I'm estimating two to four more chapters, not counting a silly epilogue and a follow-up oneshot.

Anyway, here, have some shameless smut

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader

Ch. 10 of more than I planned don't ask

Wordcount: 3,970

First chapter and Previous chapter link

Brief summary of The Story So Far: Your mission, as a Marine and Zoan type devil fruit user (gray parrot), is to gather intel on Dracule Mihawk, a pirate on the Grand Line who has become a thorn in the Marines' side over a relatively short period of time. He has been allotted forty-eight hours to make his decision on the offer of becoming a Warlord, and you can do little but imagine what that means for you

Warnings n stuff: Very NSFW. Very yandere.

Taglist: @i-am-vita @nerium-lil @browneyedhufflepuff @madbadpadawan @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @littleleelee @dragon-bubs @animefreak818 @byysandra @lufemia @gizamalblythe @schanwow

Once again, you guys are amazing and I love you so much

A soft moan left your lips as he pulled his fingertips slowly down your neck, his command hanging heavily in the air around you.

“Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you stammered out in a trembling whisper.

“Good.” Mihawk curled his hand under your chin, tilting your head back, and brushed his lips to your exposed throat as he pushed his hand back into your hair, curling his fingers into the tresses to hold your head in place. “Good girl.”

You drew in a sharp gasp as he slowly pushed a finger into you, barely registering his pur of approval against the column of your throat as you tightened around the digit, arching your hips up toward his hand. He pulled in a sharp breath himself, tracing his lips across your collarbone, pulling his hand back down to your neck.

“I should consider myself lucky to have such an obedient little pet.” You bit your lip as he curled his finger within you, rubbing slowly against the center of that agonizing pressure and sending a strong, pleasurable throb through your clit as the bundle of aching nerves begged for his attention. “You seem close already. Are you?”

“Y—yes, sir,” you whimpered, gripping hard onto a fistful of his hair as his lips reached the swell of your breast. You fought to keep your breathing steady as you lifted your head, watching his slow descent.

“Oh…” You gasped as he grazed his lips across the stiff point of your nipple, lying your head back in a breathy moan when he sucked the sensitive protrusion into his mouth for far too brief a moment. “Oh, how unfortunate.”

You cautiously glanced down when he pulled his hand from beneath your panties, your heart throbbing, wondering if you had done something wrong.

“I had hoped to play with you a bit longer.” He wrapped a hand around your wrist, his grip firm, and pulled your hand away from his shoulder, shifting back up so his eyes were level with your own again. “But you might need to distract yourself first.”

You swallowed, glancing at his hand as he guided your own on a slow, almost torturous path don the deep lines of his abdominal muscles, before your gaze snapped right back up to his.

“I hope you don’t think I’m only depriving you for my own entertainment.” You were certain he was—or at least that it was a very great part of it. He left your hand to rest at the waist of his pants, just above the buckle of his belt, and pushed his arm between the two of you to take your other hand from his hair. “The longer you remain at the edge of abandon, the greater the prize will be.” You exhaled a shuddering breath as he brushed his lips across your knuckles, before he pulled it down to level it with his other. “And I intend to take very good care of my pet.”

You detected no lie in his gaze. There was still that glint of amusement, but there was something else burning there as you cautiously unhooked his belt with trembling fingers. He didn’t have to spell out what he expected of you, for you to focus on him until you had calmed down enough to continue—and, nervous though you were, you were in no way reluctant. You could feel the heat of his stiff erection through his pants as you pulled the button loose, keeping your eyes glued to his, watching the desire that quickly consumed his gaze as he helped you push them down his lean hips.

There was some degree of surprise there as well, as if he had expected you to be far more reluctant to relent to his instruction. Your hands trembled, trailing your fingertips back up his hips as he kicked the pants away, your breathing quick and uneven; watching how he closed his eyes with a slow sigh as you brushed your fingers lightly up the thick shaft, feeling it jump and twitch under your light touch—how he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth when you brushed your other hand over the sensitive head, swore under his breath when you wrapped your fingers around it to drag the slick precum down his length.

As much as you ached for your own release, there was something even more exciting in watching his resolve melt away at your touch. You kept your gaze level with his face, stroking his rock hard erection slowly with both hands, waiting for him to open his eyes again. The subtle hitch in his breath when your gazes locked again was enough to spur you on, to strengthen your resolve a bit more. You bit your bottom lip lightly, deliberating for a moment, before speaking quietly.

“Should...should I use my mouth? I don’t—I don’t really kn—”

His breath caught again at your nervous murmur, far less subtly this time, and he cut you off by brushing his lips briefly to yours. You tightened your grip as he pushed his hips toward you, parting from the brief kiss with a low groan and throbbing hard in your hands. You felt his hand wrap tight around one of your wrists a moment later, stopping the torturous motion of your hands, and you watched the apple of his throat bob as he swallowed.

“Yes.” His breath was hot against your lips before he dipped his head back down and locked his lips to yours in a deeper, lingering kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth to tangle with yours for a moment longer, his fingers gripping your hair to hold your head in place. He regained enough composure to chuckle softly as his lips parted from yours, but the sound of it was a bit breathless as he combed his fingers through your hair. “You’re quite the quick learner, pet.

You were slightly taken aback at how quickly he pulled himself up to his knees, unabashed at his own brief loss of composure. He shifted his hands to your shoulder and your hip, guiding you to shift onto your knees in front of him, eyes half-lidded and rapturous, his breathing rapid and shallow as he pushed a hand into your hair and guided your descent.

But...something stopped you.

It wasn’t your nervousness this time—you were a bit too far gone for that, too wrapped up in pleasure and anticipation for that to stop you.

It was something else. Something about the way he had spent all this time teasing and taunting you.

That made you inclined to do just the same.

His low growl of protest when you turned your head slightly to brush your lips to his muscular abdomen instead was like music to your ears. You felt his cock throb against your cheek as he gripped hard at your hair.

You turned your head and brushed you lips low a the base of his thick arousal, reveling in his low moan as he leaned back against the wall of the daybed alcove behind him and loosened his grip to comb his fingers through your hair.

“...infuriating little thing…” he grumbled amid a slow sigh as you grazed your lips slowly up the stiff length, tracing the veins along its surface, staring up to watch his expression, watch how he gritted his teeth and tensed his shoulders. He drew in a sharp breath when you slowly dragged the tip of your tongue over the smooth, bulbous head, flicking your tongue teasingly as you lifted your eyes again and met his gaze, wrapping your hand around the base of his thick shaft.

“I only wanted to show my appreciation, master,” you said innocently.

You saw the flicker in his eyes this time when you addressed him so subserviently, the lust that it breathed to life in him, and you were briefly overwhelmed with the knowledge that you were in control—if only for a moment, you were in control, and it sent a thrill through you that you hadn’t expected or ever experienced before through every inch of your body. He sighed again and laid his head back as you stroked your hand slowly up, back down, rubbing your palm over the head with each pass. You kept your gaze on his expression, still staring up at him in some mix of lingering nervousness and curiosity, and decided to test the waters, to see just how far you could push your newfound control, speaking in a quiet murmur.

“Would...it please my master if I sucked on it?”

You swallowed, biting your lip anxiously at the sound of his strained chuckle, barely able to see his smirk with his head tilted back against the wall behind him. “Then you do mean to see me lose composure.” He moved his hand to the nape of our neck, gathering your hair there to pull it away from your face. “I’ll allow it for now.” he stretched his arm out over one of the horizontal dividers along the window, and lifted your head enough to lock his eyes with yours. “Provided you do a good enough job.”

You hoped that wouldn’t be an issue—were fairly sure it wouldn’t be, with his fingers curled in your hair, already guiding you down again slowly. You kept your eyes on his, enjoying the newfound thrill you found in the sight of his faltering confidence as you wrapped your lips around the head and circled your tongue slowly around it; in the sharp breath of air he drew in through gritted teeth when you gave it a hard, brief suck, his grip tightening around your hair.

You heard him sigh as he guided you further down his length, and glanced up to see him rest his head back against the wall again, his eyes slipping shut, letting himself become lost in pure bliss.

There was no doubt he would be angry if you finished him like this—he had already told you he wasn’t done with you. You kept your pace steady, slowing down or releasing him whenever you felt him tense or needed to take a breath, when you felt him tug at your hair or tighten your grip painfully wherever his hand happened to be resting on your body, resuming the sensual torment only when he relaxed again. You were sure you would be covered with bruises bty morning from your waist to your rear, black and purple abrasions in the shape of his strong hands.

When you were sure he was composed, that you were at no risk of pushing him over the edge, you decided to try descending further—slowly, tensing your throat swallow the thick shaft down nearly to its base. He drew in a sharp breath through his teeth as you gagged, releasing it in a low, started groan as you felt his engorged cock throb hard between your lips, against the walls of your throat. His fingers dug into your hip nearly hard enough to break skin, and he jerked you up so hard by your hair that it drew a breathless cry of pain and alarm from you before his lips were crushed against yours to muffle it.

Your tension eased away amid the harsh, hungry kiss, and he pulled you forward to wrap your thighs around him with his hand resting against the small of your back. It slipped back to your hip as he withdrew his lips, pulling you down—until you gasped at the feeling of him pressing against your entrance. He pulled his hand down through your hair, leaving it resting against your jaw, watching you with hunger burning in his eyes as your own fluttered shut and you turned your cheek into the warmth of his palm, letting out a slow sigh against your parted lips.

“You’ll still tell me when you’re close.”

He punctuated the murmured command by brushing his lips to yours, almost gingerly. You lifted your hand to rest it against his, nodding shortly. You felt the pad of his thumb brush your bottom lip, still slick and slightly swollen, and reveled in the hitch in his breath and the throb of his cock between your thighs when you took the digit into your mouth and swirled your tongue around it briefly. He regained himself quickly as he spread your own saliva across your lips, and you opened your eyes at his light chuckling to find his yellow eyes alight with amusement, his gaze fixed on you.

“Such a deviant creature.” He pushed his thumb under your chin and pulled you forward by your jaw, so close you could feel the vibration of his murmur against your lips. “Do you take so much pleasure in trying to make me lose control?”

You your lip lightly at his smirk, but the way his gaze held yours made it impossible for you to avert your eyes away. He didn’t sound upset with you, didn’t look it—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t.

“Don’t lie,” he said teasingly. You swallowed...and gave a short nod—you had enjoyed seeing him lose his composure, however briefly. He laughed quietly again, and turned your head to brush his lips to your neck. “Naughty little thing.” You gasped as he pulled you down at your hip, only enough for you to feel the very tip of his erection beginning to stretch you open, wincing at the pressure. You knew it was going to be painful to take the full length and thickness of his cock—but you wanted it so badly now that it was difficult to care. “I ought to punish you for being so willful.”

In your frenzied desperation to feel more of him inside you, the threat sent a confusing wave of excitement through you that pulled a deep moan from your chest. He purred quietly against your neck, pulling his hand down to brush across your breasts, flicking his thumb across one of your sensitive nipples.

“I’m not sure I should let you come at all.”

But he pulled you down a little more, grunting as the sensitive head pushed into your tight entrance, and you whimpered as you contracted pleasurably around it—if he kept going this slowly then maybe it would hardly hurt at all.

“If I should even give you the pleasure of fucking you.” A little further, perhaps an inch, his slow, shaking sigh as he held himself back burning your neck like fire. “Or if I should just pull you off of me right now and take you back down to the dungeon.”

“N—no—” You gasped as he pushed his hips up, his fingers digging into your hip, holding you in place to push slowly into your body. “P—p-please don’t—master—” You shook your head quickly, swallowing as his lips trailed across your collarbone. “I-I’ll be good, I promise,” you breathed, lowering your gaze to watch him push your breast up, watch his mouth nearing the swell of the soft mound of flesh. “P...please…”

He purred quietly again, letting it drift into a few chuckles. “Oh, perhaps since you asked so sweetly,” he murmured. His lifted his eyes to yours briefly and added, “Soon, dear.”

You nodded quickly, so distracted by his mouth that you couldn’t have anticipated what else might be coming—he suddenly wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking at it hard, and your surprised moan rose into a cry of pain and alarm as he pulled you roughly down by your hip, thrusting his forward to meet yours, burying himself inside you. His low groan was muffled as he relinquished only a little, briefly pressing his forehead against your collarbone, grounding himself before taking the sensitive protrusion back into his mouth.

You hooked your arm around his neck, gripping at his shoulder with your other hand, your thighs shaking around his. His skilled tongue dancing across your nipple, the euphoric shockwaves coursing through you, mingling together with the pain and deep pressure of feeling him fully inside you, stretching you wider with each deep thrust….

It was all far too much.

You would definitely come soon if he didn’t relent, and he showed no sign of doing so as he shifted his attention toward your other breast, grazing his lips across your sternum and brushing a light, wet kiss to the stiffened nub at its peak that made you cry out.

“You’re awfully sensitive,” he breathed, tugging at your hip to guide your motion, to pull you repeatedly down onto him, ensuring your swollen clit ground down against the hard plane of his pelvis each time he rolled his up to meet you. He was trying to make you cum, trying to force you to defy him—to make you lose control, as you had so enjoyed doing to him. “You can’t be so close again already.”

You could only nod, unable to form any words between the quiet whimpers and brief, sharp moans that left your lips in time with each thrust.

“No wonder your so damned tight,” he growled out through gritted teeth. You gasped as he lifted his hand to grasp at your jaw and pull you into a deep, crushing kiss. He groaned into your mouth, and you met his tongue with your own in an answering moan when it delved between your lips. He broke away, only to trail his lips across your jaw.

“Ah—I—” You cried out as he lowered his head to brush his lips across your nipple again, flicking his tongue over it lightly, tightening around his cock as the pressure threatened to burst into the waves of euphoria you so desperately craved. “I’m c—c-close, ma—mas—”

“Are you really?” he teased. You tensed your thighs, fighting against it when he didn’t relent in the slightest—digging your fingertips into his shoulder when he only sped up, letting out a breathless chuckle in his amusement. “Surely you’re bluffing.”

“I—n-no, sir—I-I swear—”

He pulled his hand down the place of your stomach, and you let out a breathless cry at the pleasure of his fingertips pressing down against your overstimulated clit, as the small bud twitched and jumped beneath his firm touch. From his purr of approval he must have felt the involuntary response beneath the pads of his fingers.

“I suppose you aren’t,” he murmured in your ear, and you could all but hear him smirking. “I do still owe you a reward for how adeptly you used your lovely mouth.” He brushed a delicate, tender kiss to the corner of your lips, and lowered his voice even further. “Then you may ride me until you finish.”

You sighed shakily as he slowed his quick, hard thrusting, loosing his grip on your hip and letting you take control. His breath left him in a slow sigh as he curled his arm around your back, lifted his hand to brush your hair out of your eyes and back behind your ear. You rolled your hips slowly, hooking your other arm around his neck as you fought to catch your breath, savoring how he throbbed and twitched against your tightening walls, how the round head rubbed so pleasurably against the center of arousal within you.

“That’s it,” he sighed, and brushed his lips to your neck as you moaned softly, lying your head back. “Nice and slow. No need to rush.” You deepened the soft kiss he pressed to your lips, dragging your fingertips down the hard plane of his chest, his murmur a warm vibration against your swollen lips. “Enjoy yourself as long as you wish, pretty girl.”

Now that he was finished tormenting you for your audacity at breaking his composure, his sole focused seemed to shift to dragging out your pleasure for as long as possible, letting you use him to your heart’s content.

And drag it out you did—you had no idea how much time passed, only that your body was growing weak from both immeasurable ecstasy and overuse, that your breathing was growing more labored by the minute, that there was a subtle flush staining even his high cheekbones as his breath shuddered out from between his lips. You lifted your hand, stroking your fingertips lightly across the flushed skin as he trailed his lips up your jaw.

He was close to the edge as well—you noticed it abruptly, from the lust flooding his gaze to the rock hard rigidness of his cock, throbbing and jerking within you with nearly every unbearably slow stroke. He was fighting the compulsion of his own release only to ensure your own pleasure at this point.

“C...close now,” you forced out on a trembling sigh—and added quickly, “s—sir.”

He gave a quiet growl against your jaw, his lips still ghosting over your skin there. “I should think so,” he murmured. “I have been depriving you for the better part of the past hour.”

You cried out as he pulled you down hard, thrusting his hips up to slam into you with an answering groan, immediately increasing his pace again—and you did as well as he pushed his hand between your bodies, rubbing his fingers against your clit, leaving you trembling all over at the swelling pressure beneath his touch, swelling until it was ready to burst.

“Now,” he breathed, wrapping his arm tight around you to grip your ass and hold you in place as he thrust into you, harder and harder, grunting and pressing his lips to the crook of your neck. “Come for me now. Let me feel it.”

“I-I—mmph—” You gasped as he bit down on the tender skin, groaning himself as he sped up even more, every deep thrust threatening to shove you straight over the edge. You felt your clit tightening, your thighs trembling as you drew closer, closer, unbearably close, your own voice far away and unfamiliar in its heightened pitch. “I—m-master—I’m—”

You barely heard his deep groan under your own sharp, unrestrained cry as the ecstasy of your release flooded through you—barely felt the pain of his hand digging into your hip as he thrust into you one final time and filled you with his own intense orgasm, pulling you slowly onto him to ride the waves of shared euphoria, his low, shaking moans vibrating in the crook of your neck. Your thighs continued their trembling even as the rest of your body slowly relaxed, as you rolled your hips to match his slow, deep strokes, your moans dissolving into breathless whimpering.

You lifted a shaking hand into his hair as he brushed a kiss into the crook of your neck, against your shoulder, your jaw, lifting his own hand to the nape of your neck to pull your lips to his for a slow, deep, sensual kiss. His eyes remained closed when his lips drifted away, his breathing nearly as labored as yours. He pushed his hand further into your hair, and the sensation of his fingertips brushing across your scalp drew goosebumps all over your body, sent a small shiver down your spine.

“You’ll join me in my chambers tonight.” Your breath caught when he opened his eyes, leaving them half-lidded as he kept your gazes locked, his forehead pressed lightly against yours. “I want my darling pet warming my bed, not chained and hidden away in the dungeon. You’ll behave, won’t you?” He lifted a hand to your cheek as you nodded quickly in agreement, brushed his thumb lightly across your bottom lip, his own lips twitching into a ghost of a smirk as he rubbed his hand slowly along the soft curve of your hip. “Good girl.”

[arjwrites]

I'm not the same annon that requested it(I'm not that creative) but could we get a sequel to the saving grace fic?? Like, I was reading it and it was so good I was soo invested in the story and then it ended 😭😭 I've been looking for any Cas fics in general but I think yours are by far the Greatest💕💕

Saving Grace pt. 2 - Castiel x GN!Reader

Summary: Part 2 to Saving Grace!

Warnings: References to sex, use of Y/N. GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: HEHEHE this one was a little silly but I love it. I feel like it ends really abruptly but I really wanted to get it done. I think I am going to write a little epilogue blurb to finish this, look for that sometime next week! Thanks for requesting this anon, I hope you enjoy <3

Link to Epilogue

Since your initial encounter with Cas’s wings, the two of you had fallen into a regular routine. At the end of the day, whether the team had just finished a difficult hunt or many long hours of research, Cas would pull you aside to discretely ask for your assistance, and the two of you would tuck yourselves away from the Winchesters for some privacy. 

“Y/N, could you… Check out my wings again? Something feels off.” He’d ask, usually averting your gaze.

“Of course, Cas!” The chance to touch his wings always excited you, but you quickly worked to calm yourself, to play things cool. “I will, uh, be in the other room when you’re ready.”

In the last few weeks, the angel had asked you to comb through his wings more times than he had ever mentioned them in the years you had known him. And more often than not, you never found any debris to remove or injury to assess. You found this peculiar, but you never said a word about it. Grooming through Cas’s wings was a job that you carried out carefully, dutifully, accepting your salary in the form of quality time with your dear angel. 

Sometimes, when you and Cas would hide away to share this secret ritual, the angel would talk, and you would listen. He’d tell you about heaven, about things he had seen in his time on Earth, and all the things that weighed heavy on his mind. Other times, he was quiet. In these times, you would take the lead. You would tell him about your childhood or recount stories of your life before his arrival. He would listen intently, committing every detail to memory. Your heart would swell when he would bring up something you had told him in another conversation. He was so considerate. 

Beyond being an emotional release for the two of you, the physical sensation was like nothing else either of you had experienced. For Cas, it was a relief and relaxation that he hadn’t experienced in as long as he had occupied his vessel on Earth. Sometimes it felt as if his grace, his true form, was bottled up tight inside of him, threatening to spill over. But in these moments with you, he could let it slip out of him, and feel the cool breeze that was your touch rippling through his feathers. And for you, it was divine in every sense of the word. It was more than just the softness and majesty of his wings. With each stroke of your fingers, a feeling of such peace came over your body. It was like the moment of warmth you felt when Cas healed you after a hunt- only stretched from a brief second into minutes, hours. It took a long time for you to grow comfortable holding casual conversation while working through Cas’s wings. You often felt that they demanded your full attention- like they were using their incandescent glow to speak to you in a language you had never learned yet understood perfectly. But you often reminded yourself that this time was for Cas, so you counted yourself lucky and chatted along with the angel for the sake of his comfort. 

As this routine became more commonplace, it grew to drag on longer and longer. Initially, you and Cas were quick, subtle, doing your best to fly under the radar so that Sam and Dean wouldn’t notice your absences. But there was something about spending this time with him that was so intoxicating. Each time you would linger in each other’s presence for a few extra precious moments. Sometimes, you would disappear together for hours on end. Cas would typically leave the Winchesters in a frantic or distant state, and return serene and satisfied. Undoubtedly, the boys were starting to take notice. 

Today was one of those days where your time with Cas had been greatly extended. You both had gotten caught up swapping stories about the most beautiful things you had ever seen. You had gone on and on about the glimpse of the northern lights you and the boys had caught when a hunt had taken you up to Canada, while Cas had described wonders both heavenly and earthly that you could barely imagine. But the whole time, there was something lingering beneath the surface. When he had first asked you the question, you had desperately wanted to scream out You, Castiel. Your wings, your grace, your presence. You are the most beautiful thing I have had the pleasure of knowing. But, of course, you did not. And it seemed like there was something left unsaid on both sides, because when Cas talked through his own answer, he had hesitated before speaking and trailed off after finishing, in a way that was so different from his usual direct and succinct tone. 

After finishing the routine, you had retreated to your room, your mind racing through every possible thought Cas could have been thinking. The angel, on the other hand, had ventured out into the bunker, only to find Sam and Dean perched in waiting. Cas acknowledged them both, intending to keep the interaction brief, but it seemed the brothers had different plans. 

“Where have you been, Cas?” Dean gruffed in an accusatory tone. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, avoidantly. 

Sam and Dean shared a quick look, silently communicating in their typical Winchester telepathy. Cas watched, unsure of their intentions, but nevertheless eager to get out of the conversation as soon as possible. 

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Y/N, recently,” Sam noted, inching carefully towards the topic. 

“Yes, I have.” It was true. Another Winchester glance ensued. 

“So, uh… What have you guys been… doing?” Dean questioned. 

Cas thought for a moment. This wasn’t something he wanted to share with the Winchesters- it was something sacred shared between the two of you. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sam and Dean, but there was something about the act that felt so vulnerable. Plus, it wouldn’t take them long to realize what Cas was up to. He definitely didn’t need this sort of grooming on a regular basis- it was all a ruse to be close to you, alone. It was one of the few pleasures he allowed himself to take part in, and in some ways he felt guilty- like it was wrong to let you do this for him, like he was using you. And if the boys found his secret out, would they tell you? He had to deflect. 

“Y/N has been helping me,” was all he could come up with in response. 

“Helping you with what, Cas?” Sam probed, not ready to let him out easy. 

Again, Cas stalled for a beat. “With some private business.” 

“Well Cas, whatever it is, we can help too,” Dean stood, beginning to inch towards the angel. 

“No.” His gaze hardened. This is where his heart would’ve started beating faster, if it did that kind of thing. 

“No?” Confusion and the slightest hint of anger laced Dean’s voice. “Cas, that’s what we’re here for. Is it dangerous?” 

“No. It’s intimate. Not any of your business.” 

At this, Sam and Dean shared a third look, this one very different from the first two. This time, their eyes were wide, their mouths opening and closing in tandem as if volleying the same thoughts back and forth, neither sure how to articulate them. After a deafening few moments of silence, Dean spoke.

“So… You’re being… Intimate, with Y/N…” he trailed off. 

“Yes.” He nodded, hoping they would accept that and move on, not understanding the connotations of his words. 

“And you… You care about Y/N… Right?” Sam chimed in.

Cas furrowed his brow. “Of course I do. Very much so. This isn’t something I would do with someone I didn’t love.” His tone was matter-of-fact. Of course he loved you. Maybe he hadn’t yet told you, but… Of course he did. 

“Okay. Okay. Good.” The boys nodded to each other as if offering some sort of approval that Cas had not been seeking after. And when they turned to look back at him, the angel was gone. 

-

Your slippered feet flopped against the hard floors of the bunker as you traveled the distance between your room and the kitchen, on a pilgrimage in search of a snack. The bunker felt eerily quiet- you didn’t run into either Winchester nor your angel during your journey. It wasn’t until you closed the fridge, satisfied with your selection, and turned to retreat, that you noticed Sam and Dean behind you. Your heart leapt out of your chest at the jump-scare, but they wasted no time in speaking.

“Hey, so, uh, we heard what’s been going on.” Dean was awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as he spoke. 

“Yeah, and we wanted to say… You guys don’t have to like, hide it anymore, or anything,” Sam added. 

“I mean we don’t want to, like, see you do it-” Dean chimed in.

“Right! Right. We don’t. But-” 

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” You interjected.

“Well Cas told us what you two have been doing. Don’t worry, it wasn’t like a ‘kiss and tell,’ we had to pry it out of him-” 

“And what exactly did he say we were doing?” 

The boys looked at each other sideways, as if a silent rock paper scissors was determining who would speak. It seemed that Dean had lost.

“Well the word he used was being ‘intimate.’” Dean made air-quotes as he spoke. “It was kinda sweet, though. Said he wouldn’t do it with someone he didn’t love, and-” 

“Oh my GOD,” was all you could get out. They thought you two were having sex. Cas said he loved you. Your mind couldn’t decide which you needed to address first, but it seemed your feet had chosen for you when you backed out of the room, turned on your heels, and ran. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed!” Sam called after you, but you were gone.

It was as if a magnet was pulling you towards the angel. You had a feeling you knew exactly where he would be- not a conscious thought, but more of a natural instinct that was carrying your body in concert with your legs. The narrow bunker hallways whipped past you and it felt like you were flying. If you could’ve flown to Cas in that moment, you would have. 

And there he was, perched exactly where you thought he would be. Looking at him now, it felt like the world had opened up around you. He said he loved you. He loves you. 

“Hello, Y/N.” Cas looked at you with a soft smile, and you froze. 

You had raced to him on pure adrenaline, but now, you weren’t sure what to say, do, think. Your mouth hung open for a moment, before finally forming the words.

“I just spoke with Sam and Dean,” you said, plainly.

“I see. They must have figured it out. I’m very sorry, Y/N. I don’t want you to think I am taking advantage of you by asking for your help with my wings, or-”

“Cas, they think we’re having sex.”

Cas cocked his head to the side and shifted his gaze behind you, processing what you had said. “I see.”

“Why do they think that, Cas?” 

He drew in a silent breath that melted his facial features. His whole presence softened, as if he had made up his mind about something that had worried him for so long.

“Well, you see… They asked me why we had been spending so much time alone. And I didn’t want them to know about what we were doing because… It’s very vulnerable, Y/N. It is a lot of trust that I place in you. And I feel guilty, because it isn’t something you should have to do. It’s selfish but it feels so good, and…”

“And what, Castiel.”

“It’s a reason for me to be close to you.” 

His words sent your heart skyrocketing and pulled you across the room, closing the final few feet between you. There were a million things you could have said. You could have reassured him he wasn’t selfish, told him how much you enjoyed helping him, or laughed at him for the confusion he caused. But instead, you gave all of those feelings a moment to bubble up in your chest before funneling them into a kiss. A soft kiss, a gentle kiss, and yet, one that was driven by so much emotion that it couldn’t help but be firm, absolute. And the angel kissed you back.

You lips lingered together for as long as you each could bear, before pulling gently away in unison. The smile on his face spoke volumes before you could even open your mouth. 

“You can be close to me whenever you’d like, Cas.”

“I’d like that,” he nodded. 

Now, to deal with those Winchesters.

[autumnshighlady]

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 31) - final chapter

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: the opportunity to help the females in the Night Court is now here, and the last chapter of the reader's plan concludes

warnings: none

word count: 7.1k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: this is the final chapter of IALTPWF (there will be an epilogue for SURE, maybe a bonus chapter or two in the future) and i'm so emotional. i've poured my heart and soul into this story for two years and it's finally over. thank you to everyone who has shown this story support, I hope that in this chapter and the epilogue to come, you are satisfied with the ending. long mushy post to come later

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23 / part 24 / part 25 / part 26 / part 27 / part 28 / part 29 / part 30

read on ao3

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Nesta ran her fingers through your hair, plaiting it up in a coronet identical to her own. Her hands were steady, despite the raging sea of nerves that wracked both of you. It was a day’s ride to the Night Court on dragonback, and you could practically feel Zôrzimril itching to take flight. Without moving your head, you glanced at the window, seeing your dragon's golden scales shining in the moonlight. Athariel was behind her, the two mighty beasts laying down and resting before their long journey. 

Both of you donned your new riding leathers, with featherlight but sturdy pieces of armour attached. The shoulder pieces were scaled like dragon skin – yours, gold, and Nesta’s silver. The designs of the leather blended with the metal armour were beautifully crafted, fitting perfectly to your forms. You didn’t know if you wanted Eris to tell you how much he spent commissioning the pieces, but you were grateful for the protection nonetheless. 

As Nesta carefully pinned your hair in place, your stomach churned. The plan to help the females of the Night Court escape would finally conclude by tomorrow morning. Despite the detailed planning and the fact you had all the other High Lords helping the cause, nerves still wracked you. As much as you could guide the females down the right path, there would undoubtedly be many who were too afraid to leave.

It is their choice, you had to remind yourself constantly. Being from a different court, there is only so much you could do.

“Where are you right now?” Nesta murmured, resting her hands on her shoulders and looking at you in the mirror that sat on your dresser in front of you.

You blinked, pushing away your negative thoughts. “What do you mean?”

She scoffed. “You have that distant look in your eyes. And I can hear that brain of yours ticking away like an old watch. What exactly are you fretting about?”

“What am I not fretting about is the easier question,” you grumbled. “There are so many things that could go wrong with this plan.”

The scraping of chair legs filled the room as Nesta pulled up a second chair, placing it next to yours and taking a seat. “Like that? Let us rationalise it, ok?”

You took a deep breath. “This is the truly final piece to my plan. The last piece on the board to fall. One way or another, we’ve gotten what we wanted so far. What if this is where it all goes wrong?”

“I think you forget the countless times things already have gone wrong,” Nesta gently reminded you. “Rhys capturing you, your engagement to Malgorm, much of what you planned has gone awry in some way. Yet it has all worked out – this will, too. Remember, you’re not doing it alone this time. We have Tarquin, Thesan, Helion, Tamlin, and Kallias all helping with the full support of their courts. We will be fine.”

“But the females might not be.” You pointed out, trying to keep your brain from worrying about how the groups could be followed and hunted down on their journey to escape.

“The ones from the Hewn City have Gwyn and Azriel to protect them, and the Illyrian females know the mountain passes better than any of the males. They can handle themselves,” Nesta insisted. 

Gwyn had gone back into the Night Court a few hours after the meeting in Solaris to begin her whisper network. You had watched with a mix of pride and worry as she grabbed the shadowsinger’s hand, winnowing back into the very place she would be in the most danger. Somehow, deep down, you knew she would be okay. This was not the shy, frightened Gwyn you had first met in the Library. No, she had grown a new strength that rivalled the toughest steel in the armoury. With Azriel at her side, they would protect the females from the Court of Nightmares.

“Is Emerie still going with you to the Illyrian meetup point?” Nesta asked you, adjusting the armbands on her leathers.

You nodded.

“Good. Illyria will be the hardest path to navigate. Helion, Lucien and I will easily be able to get the Hewn City females to the cove and across the border. But you’ll have to extend your magic quite far into the Steppes, have you rested enough for that?”

“I think so,” you stood up, walking over to your table of breakfast and forcing a few orange slices into your mouth to calm your stomach. It tasted bitter on your tongue, and it took everything in you to swallow it.

Your mate snorted, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. “A fat lie. You were tossing and turning so much I was tempted to smother you to sleep,”

Smirking, you turned back to Nesta. “Well, there are ways in which you could smother me that I wouldn’t mind…”

Nesta’s cheeks went red, but she swatted you with her hand towel. “Insatiable thing. Did we not satisfy you enough yesterday before Eris left?” 

Now it was your turn to blush and look away. Eris had taken his and Tamlin’s armies on ships up to the Western coast of the Night Court. His goal was to feign an offensive launch to draw out the armies, undoubtedly drawing out Rhysand as well. False negotiations would take place, centring around questioning if Rhysand had dealt with Koschei yet – and if not, all six courts were prepared to attack and eliminate him entirely to break the bargain. But before he had left in his shining High Lord armour, your husband spent hours showing both you and Nesta how much he would miss his wives.

You shook your shoulders, brushing off the heated memories before you pounced on Nesta. The mating bonds in your chest urged you to engage in the frenzy that was common for new mates, but you resisted for now, choosing to change the subject. “So Helion will shelter everyone at the Day Court until me and my ships arrive with the Illyrian females since we don’t have the magic to winnow everyone,” you said, revisiting your plan you had gone over a million times.

Despite your constant repetition, Nesta remained patient. “Yes, my love,” she said. “Tarquin, Cresseida, Kallias, and Vivianne will be with you. I will have Helion and Thesan with me, and we will be waiting for you and the Illyrians to arrive before dividing everyone up.”

At the High Lord’s meeting a few days ago, every ruler had agreed to provide a home to a certain number of refugees. Autumn and Summer were taking the most, followed by Day, Spring, Dawn, and then Winter. “I can accommodate however many you need,” Kallias had said when discussing the logistics. “However, I do not think many will want to come. It is a harsher environment than many are used to, except maybe the Illyrians.”

With every court helping, there was room for thousands of females spread across Prythian. Nesta had played a large role in coordinating with builders and stonemasons from the other courts, sharing her plans and models from Solaris as reference for the construction of more shelters. It was an effort shared by fae all across the lands, a thought which warmed your heart.

“Everything is as in place as it can be, I guess,” you said, glancing outside at the rise of the moon from behind the mountains, a signal that it was time to go. “We are prepared. I just want all of this to be over. Aside from dealing with Koschei, this is the last obstacle to climb before I can finally relax, I think.”

Nesta placed a kiss on your cheek. “Me too. Now let’s go get Emerie, so we can get those females out of there and be done with all this.”

**********************

A surprisingly alert Emerie was already waiting for you in the clearing where Athariel and Zôrzimril waited. The beasts lifted their heads and called out happily, making Emerie flinch.

You laughed, causing the winged female to snap playfully, “Don’t even. Not all of us are used to dragons. Give me a hundred years before you expect me to not jump at those noises.” She donned black leathers with black armour, and that familiar white ribbon across her forehead. Her wings were a blueish black in the moonlight, 

“Well you’re about to spend a full day on the back of one so best get used to it quickly.” You grabbed your supply sac from Saeros, nodding your thanks before hauling it over your back. Despite having food, water, and extra clothes, it was not heavy thanks to a special spell from Helion. 

Emerie slung her identical sac over her arm. “We ready?”

“This is the most awake I’ve ever seen you at this hour,” Nesta joked from a few feet away where she was greeting Athariel, stroking the silver beast’s nose.

“I’m on a mission, okay?” Emerie shrugged. “Finally being able to help with something really awakens you.”

Colourful leaves crunched underneath your boots as you lead Emerie over to where Zôrzimril was waiting. “You say that like you haven't been up from sunrise to sunset working on Solaris for over two months,” you pointed out.

Emerie’s response was cut off as Zôrzimril lowered her head upon your approach, emitting a low rumbling noise as she eyes up the winged female. Emerie’s eyes were wide, and she stopped in her tracks. 

“It’s ok,” you reassured her as you ran your hand down the dragon’s jaw. “She’s just checking you out and saying hi. She won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“If you say so.”

“Come test it yourself. Say hello back.”

After a few protests, you managed to drag Emerie forward until she was face to face with your dragon. Zôrzimril’s nostrils flared, her eyes squinting as she seized up the creature in front of her. Gently, you grabbed Emerie’s hand, placing it on the dragon’s snout. She let out a gasp as her hand made contact with the hard but smooth scales of the beast, jaw slack with wonder. 

“Holy shit,” she muttered. “She feels so…”

“Powerful?” You finished your friend’s sentence for her, and she nodded.

“I never thought I’d know what it was to fly,” her voice was faraway, as if her mind and body were disconnected in a drift between memories and dreams. “I guess I will now.”

Nesta had come up to the two of you, pulling you both in for a big hug. You held your mate and your friend, sighing into their comforting touch. “I’ll see you both soon, okay?” Nesta said.

“Stay safe,” Emerie said as she nodded, giving Nesta a squeeze on the shoulder before pulling back and heading towards Zôrzimril cautiously, securing the straps of her backpack across her chest.

Nesta turned to you, a well of emotions swimming in her blue grey eyes. “What we’re doing here is bigger than both of us,” she said. “It will be the final nail in the Night Court’s coffin. I find myself wondering if we have doomed them to a tragic fate in our pursuit for revenge.”

You frowned. “Are you having regrets?”

“No,” Nesta shook her head. “I’m not. But it makes me sad. For as much as I hated the Night Court, it was a beautiful place. Not all of them were bad.”

You took Nesta’s gloved hands in your own. “Velaris will be safe. And we are aiding as many of the females from Illyria and the Hewn City as we can. Rhys may be an arrogant prick, but he is not a complete fool. He will protect his remaining citizens from Koschei – he put himself in this position, not us. He was the one ready to sacrifice them, let him deal with the consequences of those actions. Besides, many may choose to flee regardless of if they come with us or not.”

Your mate sighed, nodding. “You’re right. I just… I keep thinking about Feyre and Elain and the baby. I don’t want anything to do with them, at least not for a long time, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to them.”

“What if we wrote a letter to them?” You offered. “Let them know that should they need it, there will be a place for them at one of the sanctuaries. It doesn’t have to be in Autumn – I am sure Tarquin or Helion would gladly take them in.”

A sad smile came over Nesta’s face. “I’d like that, thank you.”

You knew Nesta’s relationship with her sisters would never be the same after everything that had happened in the last two years. It was a loss she would grieve and carry with her for a while. As much as you didn’t care for the other two Archeron siblings, they, too, had been dragged into the faerie world against their will. Truly, you hoped that one day they’d find happiness and a good home in Prythian, just not with Nesta in the Autumn Court.

Giving Nesta’s hand one last squeeze, you turned towards Zôrzimril and walked over to where Emerie was stroking the beast’s neck. When the dragon saw you approaching, she eagerly dropped her shoulder, extending her wing towards the ground for you to grab onto. So you gently stepped up onto the dragon’s scaling spikes, holding her wing for support and climbing up onto her back. In just a few movements, you settled yourself into the gaps between the horns at the base of Zôrzimril’s neck.

You peered down at Emerie, who went white. “Come on!” You called out in encouragement.

“That’s how you get up?” The Illyrian female baulked, causing you to scoff.

“Did you think we had a ladder or a staircase to get up?”

“Yes, actually!”

“Well time to put those Valkyrie muscles to use and get your ass up here.”

Emerie sighed, muttering to herself but grabbed onto Zôrzimril’s wing shakily. Awkwardly, she managed to scale up the dragon’s shoulder, panting and plopping herself down behind you. “That’s not as easy as you made it look.” She huffed.

You shrugged. “Take’s practice, now clip in.”

Emerie did so, taking the rope that was attached to her belt and clipping it onto the holster that was fitted around Zôrzimril’s nearest horn. You did the same, watching as Athariel spread her mighty silver wings beside you. The beast ran forward and shot into the air with the agility of a cat, and you heard Nesta whoop with delight. She seemed like a speck of dust on the large creature, but you managed to catch a glimpse of her turning her head around to look at you one more time.

Zôrzimril screeched in defiance of being left behind, and you patted her scales. “Volare,” you said to her using the command Eris had taught you. Happy to oblige, the dragon lifted her head, causing Emerie to grasp onto the scales in front of her and curse as she spread her wings and catapulted into the air.

The female behind you let out a yelp, and you lifted your chin to the stars above and sighed deeply, relishing the feeling of climbing higher and higher into the sky. Zôrzimril’s powerful body soared through the clouds, her wings cutting through them like razor sharp blades. 

It was only another minute before your ascent finished and you finally broke free of the clouds, and Zôrzimril angled herself straight once more. She let out a happy screech, dipping her claw down to slice through the clouds below as she flew North. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the view. The moon was bright, illuminating everything in a blue-silver tone. The stars shone brightly even with the light of the moon, twinking as if they were greeting you.

Behind you, Emerie’s breathing had steadied. “Holy shit…” She said with awe.

You turned to face your friend. “A bit different than being carried through the skies by an Illyrian male”

“You have no idea…” Her brown eyes were wide with wonder as they drank in the view of the midnight sky. She stretched her wings as far as they could go, sighing. “I never thought I’d feel the wind on my wings like this.”

Despite the cold night air, your heart warmed at seeing your friend so happy. Carefully, she let go of her ironclad grip on Zôrzimril’s horns, letting her arms stretch out to the side. Straightening her shoulders, she tipped her head back and let out a whoop to the stars. Her voice rang out amongst the clear sky, and her smile did not fade all the way to the Night Court.

**********************

Your legs were numb from flying for so long, even a few hours later as you gathered around a small campfire with Emerie, Tarquin, Viviane, and Kallias. A small unit of guards were stationed nearby, ready to jump into action should things go south. Luckily, Kallias had put up a glamour around the beach, shielding both everyone on land and on the ships just offshore from lingering eyes. The Lord and Lady of Winter each donned their white fur coats that, combined with their pale skin and hair, made them glow under moon high. Tarquin wore a simple blue tunic with a deep V, his white hair braided back out of his chiselled face. While unmistakably powerful beings, they were dressed like they were going to a simple meeting rather than a rescue mission – perhaps as to not frighten the females. No doubt there was armour glamoured somewhere, ready to replace their casual attire at the snap of fingers. 

“They should be here soon,” Emerie muttered, pacing nervously and glancing at the rocky hills in the distance that led to the Illyrian Mountains where the females would be coming from. The steppes began half a mile away from the rocky beach where you stood, the beige and brown shrubbery rustling in the wind eerily. 

At least the mountains had shelter, places to hide from anyone who may try and follow the large groups. But the steppes were out in the open, which made you nervous.

“Give it time,” Tarquin said gently. “This is not a swift moving group of warriors. They are likely burdened with their provisions, as well as children and the sick or elderly.”

“Why can’t we just meet them at the end of the mountain pass and escort them to the beach?” Emerie asked nervously, cracking her knuckles.

“Because we are already in the Night Court’s territory,” Viviane tried to reassure the female, her white hair glowing in the moonlight. “To go farther than this would be considered an invasion.”

“Eris is launching an invasion, why can’t we?” Emerie spoke as if she had not heard half of the Lady of the Winter court’s sentence.

“A false one,” Viviane did not lose her patience as she spoke. “One that is taking place on ship, therefore not encroaching on Rhysand’s borders. Stepping on the beach is easy to overlook, but heading into the Steppes would be an act of war. We have to be cautious.”

Emerie nodded, eyes clouded as she stopped pacing and sat down on a nearby log. You knew your friend’s greatest fear – that only a small group would have made it out of Illyria, leaving hundreds left behind for dead. You prayed that her fears would not come true.

The steady pounding in your head that had started an hour ago began to increase, and you groaned, swaying slightly. The light in your palms that guided the doe you had manifested with your magic and sent deep into the Illyrian Mountains dimmed slightly, but you quickly willed it to strengthen once again. Deep down, you felt thin and stretched from having to extend your magic so far for several hours.

“Are you okay?” Kallias asked, his white brows narrowing with concern. 

You nodded. “Magic is tiring… I haven’t kept it going for this long… ever…” Your voice grew strained and weak, all of your energy focused on keeping that white trail of light going. You hated that you couldn’t even tell if there was anyone following it. All you could do was hope that everyone had made it to the designated escape starting point on time.

“She will not last much longer,” Tarquin muttered to his fellow High Lord. “It may yet be another few hours until the group arrives. I expect we will see them around sunrise at this rate.”

You barely heard Kallias’s response, closing your eyes and taking another deep breath. You could feel Nesta trying to reach you through the mating bond, but didn’t have the energy to respond. You could tell she was already in the Day Court, having succeeded in aiding the escape from the Court of Nightmares. And you wanted to reassure her that you were fine, that all was going well. But you couldn’t. You were swimming in a sea of your own powerful magic, but your body was not equipped to handle the strain.

“Hey, stay with us.” Your eyes snapped open at Viviane’s voice. She had come to stand at your side along with Emerie, an arm around your waist steadily supporting your unstable figure. Her blue eyes were laced with concern and she took in your exhausted form and turned to her husband. “She won’t be able to hold out until sunrise.”

“I can do it…” You muttered, mustering as much determination into your voice as you could. 

“No, you cannot,” Kallias said sternly. “You are not used to wielding magic for this long of a period. It requires extreme focus, especially for something as complicated as this. And you’ve been at it for several hours already, it is taking its toll and sooner or later you will pass out from exhaustion.”

Guilt wracked you, and you fought off tears. You felt like a failure as you whispered, “I’m sorry…” 

“Do not be,” Viviane assured you gently. “This is not a simple matter of setting up a ward or a glamour and leaving it be. You’re guiding a strange new type of magic none of us have seen before through miles of terrain that is unknown to you. Give yourself a break.”

“I can’t… stop…” You protested, vision going in and out. 

“So don’t,” came Tarquin’s voice. “I’ll give you a boost.”

Beside you, Emerie frowned. “A boost?”

You heard stones shift as Tarquin stepped around the fire, coming to stand in front of you. “Yes,” he said. “I can channel some of my magic into her to keep her body strong enough.”

“That’s a thing?” Your Illyrian friend asked.

“It is rarely done, as it is difficult to do, but yes.” Came Tarquin’s reply. 

“Do it…” You spoke up weakly, every syllable dragging out like a heavy stone. All you wanted to do was collapse into a soft bed and sleep for a year. Kallias was right, you couldn’t do this on your own.

“I must warn you, it will feel strange,” Tarquin’s voice sounded, and you felt Viviane and Emerie step away as the High Lord of the Summer Court took your hand that was not glowing with a trail of magic. “My magic is very different from yours, and your first instinct may be to expel it. Refrain from resisting.”

You nodded, opening your eyes and looking up at Tarquin. He nodded, and his hand moved up to your wrist, clamping down. You rotated your arm slightly to do the same, taking a deep breath. The male began to emit a soft glow, the whites of his eyes seeming to brighten and give him an otherworldly quality.

Seconds later, you felt it.

Tarquin’s magic pushed into your body, and you gasped sharply. It was like a tidal wave was being slammed into you, a raging sea coursing through your veins. It felt the complete opposite of Nesta and Eris’s comforting fire, or your own light-filled power. 

Your entire body felt like a riptide, and you could practically taste the salty air of summer on your tongue as your bones vibrated with new magic. You willed yourself to relax, to accept the foreign power being pumped into you. As you did so, your limbs felt stronger. Exhaustion was chased away, and you were finally able to open your eyes. A thin, golden band of magic circled in figure eights between your attached hands, dancing and twisting around each other.

“Thank you,” you whispered to Tarquin.

He nodded. “We must remain linked for the magic to prevail. An hour should give your body enough time to recover and reset.”

With renewed energy, you felt the white light in your free palm glow brighter, urging the Illyrian females out of the mountains.

**********************

The sun was beginning to creep up five hours later, and Tarquin’s boost of magic had vanished a while ago. Viviane was now holding you up once again, your head droopy as you fought to keep that light strong. You felt it was close, which made it easier to hang on.

“They’re approaching,” You said through gasped breaths.

Emerie shot up from where she was sitting, the jerky she was chewing on falling to the ground. “You can feel them?” She asked eagerly.

“No,” you responded as Kallias, Tarquin, and the soldiers perked up. “But my magic feels close, and we have to assume that means they are close as well.”

Tarquin turned to one of his guards. “Winnow to the ships and tell Cresseida we are almost ready to receive the refugees.” He ordered, and the guard disappeared within seconds. 

The hope in Emerie’s eyes as she gazed into the Steppes rekindled some strength within you. You gently pushed yourself off of Viviane, taking a shaky step towards where Emerie was looking.

“What’s that?” Viviane asked, pointing to one of the rocky hills in the distance near the mountains. Both the High Lords joined her where she stood a few feet away from you and Emerie.

A faint, glowing white doe stood upon the hill. Stardust seemed to swirl around its feet as it leapt over the rocks bounding through the plains towards the beach. Everyone held their breath, silence filling the air.

“Come on…” Emerie muttered nervously.

Moments later, a set of wings appeared where the doe was – a female carrying a lit torch. She was so far away, even with your fae eyesight it was hard to tell for sure who it was. But then another one appeared beside her, slightly taller, carrying a large sac.

“Lift the glamour!” Viviane barked at Kallias, who snapped his fingers. The air shimmered for a second before clearing. The doe continued to bound toward you, getting fainter and fainter as you felt the last bit of energy you had controlling your magic slipping.

More and more sets of wings appeared over the rocky hill, the torches going from one to a hundred in minutes. Like an army ready for battle, hundreds and hundreds of winged females stepped down onto the plains. Emerie let out a choked sob from beside you.

“By the Mother…” Tarquin gasped softly. “They made it!”

“There’s so many of them…” Viviane said with awe as more and more torches and winged bodies funnelled out of the mountain pass. Sure enough, through your blurry and exhausted vision, you managed to make out the sight of a swarm of bodies stepping onto the flat stretch, shuffling towards the now glamour-free beach.

As they grew closer and guards scurried about with preparations, you breathed a sigh of relief. And then the world grew dark as you collapsed into Tarquin’s arms with exhaustion. 

**********************

An otherworldly headache pounded against your skull as you blinked open your eyes, the golden sunlight shining into your face too bright to handle. Your entire body felt heavy, like a stone at the bottom of the ocean.  When you groaned, a familiar hand brushed some hair out of your face.

“Why hello there,” came the familiar silky voice of Eris. 

With as much effort as you could, you pried your eyes open and blinked a few times to adjust to the brightness. Eris was seated beside you, leaning against the frame of the bed you were laying in with a book in one hand. He donned a white shirt with a deep v-neck and loose sleeves, paired with light green trousers. His long red hair was braided back, a few strands framing his sharp face. He smiled gently. “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted,” you mumbled, relaxing into his touch as he continued to stroke your face. “Where am I?”

“One of Helion’s quarters,” Eris said, bringing a cup of water to your lips and coaxing the liquid into your mouth. “You passed out right as the Illyrians arrived, and Tarquin brought you straight here.”

The Illyrians.

You sat up abruptly, ignoring the protest of your tired body. “They made it? The ships got them here safely?”

Eris smiled, nodding. “Yes, my dear. All eight thousand of them.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “Eight thousand? How many came from the Hewn City?”

“Five thousand, as to be expected. Many families had already made it to Velaris safely, so there were not as many females as in Illyria left behind.”

The room spun around you with shock. The white marble bookcases across from your bed seemed to sway, and you shook your head. “Wow,” was all you could murmur.

Eris gently pulled you against his chest, kissing your head. “Wow, indeed. I am so proud of you, my dear. You’ve saved the lives of thirteen thousand females today. They know what you did for them, and Nesta has had to practically barricade your door to keep them from barging in here to thank you.”

“Where is Nesta?” You asked.

“She will be here in a few minutes,” Eris replied. “You began to stir half an hour ago, so I sent word to her. She was with the other High Lords helping crunch numbers for which courts are taking which females.”

You sighed with content, the warmth of Eris’s body relaxing you. You turned on your side, wrapping an arm around him and snuggling closer to your mate. “I can’t believe we pulled that off,” you murmured.

Eris cocked his head, setting his book aside on the table. “Why? It was a good plan, and we thought through every possible scenario to ensure its success.”

“How did negotiations with Rhys go?”

Your husband let out a sharp laugh. “Seeing Rhysie is always such a treat,” he chuckled. “He fell for the bait quite easily. We waited for half a day in our ships before the Illyrians descended from the skies and the Darkbringers appeared on the shoreline, all ready for a battle that would not happen. I demanded an audience, and Rhys complied. I talked his ear off for a few hours, and let him whine about the supposed unfairness of all this. It got painfully dull after a while, but I found out something very interesting…”

You perked up, peering up at the male who had a smug look on his face. “What?”

“Rhysand broke his bargain with Koschei. After the baby was born, he travelled to the depths of the lake in which the Death God dwells and declared his intentions to not hold up his end. There was a price to be paid, of course, one I find very symbolic.

“Rhys has relinquished almost all of his power to Koschei. His magic was ripped out of him and fed to the beasts beneath the lake floors like a bone to a dog. He was left with the bare minimum to keep Velaris safe enough, but that’s it. Furthermore, he is required to visit Koschei once a month for a week – a mirror of that very same bargain he made with dear Feyre over a year ago. By doing so, he guaranteed Koschei will not go after Nesta, not with a new plaything at his disposal.”

Your jaw went slack. “Rhys… lost his powers?” You repeated in shock.

Eris didn’t even bother trying to refrain his smile from widening. “Yes. I think it’s justice, personally. I cannot say I feel bad for him in the slightest. It also seems Feyre told him that in the process of breaking the bargain, he had to find a way to keep Nesta alive as well. For all his faults, he will do whatever Feyre asks of him at this point. That is a blessing for us.”

You exhaled shakily. Rhys was one of the most powerful High Lords, now diminished to a regular High Fae male in a small city. There would be no gaining control of Illyria and the Hewn City now with this loss of power, you realised. “I can’t believe this…” You said, still rattled with shock.

Eris rubbed your shoulder. “Anywho, once he told me that story we made some reassurances to each other. Me and Tamlin’s ships departed slowly, giving the armies more time to linger and make sure we had left before returning home to find almost half of their population gone. The distraction worked perfectly, I am sure they are in a tizzy about it as we speak.”

Before you could answer, the door to your guest chambers swung open to reveal Nesta. Her hair was in a singular braid, hanging across her shoulder. She wore a shining gold dress that was carefully draped over one shoulder, the fabric hanging loosely across her chest. Your eyes popped open, and Eris laughed beside you.

“I have never seen you wear something like this before,” he chuckled.

Rolling her eyes, Nesta closed the door behind her and came over to sit on your other side. “Oh, please,” she snapped. “Helion picked it out personally. I couldn’t not wear it, it’s his court after all.”

“I’m not complaining,” you insisted as Nesta gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“He is a relentless flirt,” Eris said, amused. “But one with good taste.”

You sighed as Nesta rubbed your back, despite her death glare she sent at Eris. The three of you sat in silence for a few minutes, happy to be back in each other’s company. With your mates by your side, the weariness you had felt began to diminish. 

“I want to see the females,” you said. “I want to make sure they’re okay.”

“Emerie is taking good care of them and the dragons are guarding the borders,” Nesta said gently. “You need to rest.”

You shook your head, sitting up and peeling the soft duvet off. You crawled over Eris’s legs, unsteadily placing your feet on the white marble ground. 

“Take it easy,” Eris chided, holding your elbow. “Your body is exhausted. You can see them tomorrow.”

“No,” you said sharply, standing up like a newborn deer and heading over to the closet in the corner. “After everything we’ve done to see this through, I need to see them with my own eyes.”

Nesta and Eris exchanged a glance, but didn’t protest. You ignored them and grabbed the white dress Helion had hung up in there for you, peeling off your nightgown. You pulled the soft fabric on, tying the gold belt around your waist. “Where are they staying right now?” You asked.

“Many are in the main hall,” Eris replied, standing up. “Others are in temporary camps set up across the fields. I believe those residing in the main hall are currently at dinner.”

“Great,” you said, holding out your hand. “Take me there, please.”

“As you wish,” Nesta said, taking your other arm while Eris grasped your extended hand. 

After ten minutes of meandering through Helion’s royal hallways, you came to the dinner room, passing through the white columns at the entrance. 

Your jaw nearly dropped. Hundreds of females sat at tables or on comfortable floor mats, hearty soups in hand as they chatted quietly amongst themselves. A group of musicians played in the corner, the gentle tune echoing in the grand chamber. Dozens of eyes turned towards you as Eris and Nesta led you through the crowd towards the table at the front, where Emerie, Tamlin, Lucien, Helion, Thesan, Tarquin, Cresseida, Kallias, and Viviane were seated. Gwyn and Azriel sat at the end, partially hidden in the shadows. When your friend saw you, she smiled brightly and waved. You breathed a sigh of relief, seeing her safe after everything she had done.

Lucien stood up, coming around the front of the table to greet you. His eye gleamed with pride as he opened his arms. “Come here, you,” he said cheerfully.

Peeling away from your mates, you lept into Lucien’s arms, hugging him tightly. Your friend chuckled, squeezing you reassuringly. “Glad you made it out okay,” he said.

“You too,” you replied, pulling away and smiling at him. “We did it. We really did it.”

“I told you, you’d make a good High Lady,” came a familiar gruff voice. Tamlin had risen as well, approaching behind Lucien and offering you a small smile. “We are all very proud.”

“Thank you, Tam.” You said gratefully. His large hand patted you on the back before returning to his place at the table. 

Nesta gently grabbed your hand. “Come, you must eat.” She guided you towards one of the three empty chairs at the centre of the long table. It was covered in various fruits, roasted vegetables with sauces, and about ten different kinds of meat. Your mouth watered as you realised how hungry you were.

On the way, you stopped beside Gwyn and Azriel, leaning down to hug your friend. “Thank goodness you’re okay,” you murmured into Gwyn’s shoulder.

“Ye of little faith,” she said sarcastically “I was fine. All I did was chat up some priestesses, they were the ones who mostly spread the word. I was safe and sound.”

You pulled away. “Come join us at our end of the table!”

The priestess shook her head. “I’m okay here, it’s too crowded over there.”

“You mean you want to just sit here and ogle Azriel,” Nesta singsonged with a gleam in her eyes.

Gwyn’s face went red, and to your surprise, Azriel flushed slightly as well. “Shut the fuck up,” she snapped at Nesta playfully, shifting in her seat.

“It’s okay, Gwyn,” Eris piped up, winking at the shadowsinger, who seemed like he wanted to bury himself alive. “He is quite pretty to look at. But should you change your mind and like to join us, let us know.”

You laughed, Gwyn’s muttering and cussing you out as you, Nesta, and Eris took your seats at the table. As you dove into the plate of food in front of you, you tuned into the lively sounds of the room while Nesta and Eris began chatting with Helion. 

Many of the females kept glancing at you, some offering smiles or nods before returning to their company. Some were huddled in the corner, eyes wary as they consistently scanned their surroundings. You wondered how many females had similar stories to Emerie, or to Morrigan. How many had suffered for years and accepted it because they believed that is how things would always be? How many had been spared future suffering because of their escape?

As you downed your goblet of wine, you reminisced on that day in the House of Wind last year when you had first started your plan to flee the Night Court and seek revenge on its leaders. Never did you think that it would go this far, that you would accomplish this much. All you had wanted was to be free and be able to make your own choices. And now it led to seeking that same outcome for thousands of others.

Rhys could never hurt you again. Those painful images of that cruel, dark mist lashing your bare skin over and over again would fade into distant memory eventually, with no fear of it ever happening again. He couldn’t lock you or Nesta up, or threaten you. No, you both had more power than him now by a long measure. You were finally free from his grasp.

A year ago you had been angry at Feyre, too. Part of you still was, and delighted in the karmic justice of destroying part of her court in retribution. But you hoped for her sake, that she would accept the help offered in the letter Nesta had planned to send. For a moment, you wondered if Feyre would still be who she was now if she hadn’t met Rhys.

“What are you thinking about?” Eris asked you, leaving Nesta to argue with Helion herself.

His amber eyes were soft and kind, the cruel mask that he had plastered on for so many centuries cracked and slipped away. The world could see Eris for who he truly was not, not just as Beron’s firstborn son. 

You smiled. “How I can’t wait for everything here to be sorted so we can go home.”

“Me too, my dear, me too.” He squeezed your hand and surveyed the room again. “You have accomplished what many in the likes of my father deemed impossible. Now even the most stubborn fae realise that things can change fast if they will it so. That is a very good thing.”

“Yes, it is.”

The road ahead would not be without challenge. Settling thirteen thousand females into six courts would be a process, and there would surely be setbacks along the way. But after a year of being tortured, beaten, sneaking around and scheming, you were ready for some normal problems.

“Eris?” You said.

He turned to face you once again. “Yes?”

“I love you. And thank you, for everything you’ve done. None of this would have been possible if you hadn’t agreed to help me last year.”

The High Lord of the Autumn Court laughed, kissing your cheek gently. “It is I who should be thanking you. Both of you. You freed me from the prison of my old life. And not just me, but thousands of others. I intend on spending eternity thanking you for it.”

So you laced one hand in Eris’s, and the other in Nesta’s as they both looked at you with so much love in their eyes you were sure you would explode. As much as you liked the Day Court, you yearned to be back in Autumn where you belonged, under the bright trees and wandering the forest paths. As if echoing your thoughts, Zôrzimril’s call echoed on the wind like an ancient song.

And so the yellow rays of sunshine morphed into orange and red, and the sun began to set. You felt a faint brush of a hand on your shoulder, and a familiar, ethereal voice sounded in your ear barely above a whisper.

Well done, my child.

As the sun finally disappeared behind the mountains, the echoing voice faded with it. 

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[yeetmeoutthewindowdaddy]

A deep dive into Zevlor's devotion (Part 1) Everybody hates tieflings, and how discrimination impacted a young Zevlor:

THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BG3.

These series of posts were originally one loooooong post— but apparently Tumblr has a character limit, and I found it; so now it's been split into several parts/posts.

((Part 1, this post, is mostly to give context to the discrimination faced by tieflings in Faerûn. The third part is where the meat of my Zevlor analysis is.))

(Part 2) Elturel's history and culture, the Hellriders, and Zevlor's paladin oath. (Part 2.5)

(Part 3) Zevlor's actions during Act 1, an analysis of a man who is barely holding on.

(Part 4) Zevlor's actions during Act 2, an analysis of a broken man.

(Part 5) Zevlor's actions during Act 3, an analysis of a man with his faith restored.

(Part 6) Zevlor's actions during/ after the epilogue, not all endings are happily ever after— especially not for a tiefling.

(Part 7) Zevlor in a romantic relationship.

I don't think many bg3 players understand just how dedicated and loyal of a person Zevlor is. This ADHD hyper-fixation fueled multipart-thesis is meant to show how Zevlor's past is as tragic as any of the origin characters'/ Durge's. It's meant to show how horrifically broken Zevlor was when he "betrayed" the other tieflings. It's also meant to show that our beloved blorbo would probably be fervently obsessive if he was in a romantic relationship.

Most importantly: It demonstrates how our favorite man Zevlor was most likely a fanatical religious zealot my dudes. He was (probably) a part of the Faerûn equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition lite.

I have kept this as factual as I am able to. Please keep in mind that Baldur's Gate 3 plays it fast and loose with the DND/ Forgotten Realms canon and lore, on top of DND/ the Forgotten Realms itself regularly disregarding and changing it's own lore and canon. DND lore and canon as a whole is a mess. It has multiple universes that sometimes interact and are maybe separate from each other. Full disclosure; I've mixed 1e-5e lore together FUCK 5.5e, because parsing through what is currently considered canon is a nightmare. As far as I'm concerned, as long as a piece of lore was canon at some point in the past 50 years— it's fair game. @y-rhywbeth2 in this post has a more in depth disclaimer. Also please check out their headcanons and lore breakdowns, they're so good.

THIS PROJECT TOOK ME OVER A MONTH TO WRITE. I've tried to find all grammatical and spelling errors. I've tried to ensure that I've cited the correct sources in the correct places.

I have given up on trying to understand Tumblr's inconsistent post formatting. Why does the 'small' option for text sometimes actually make the text smaller but other times it makes the text larger???

______________________________________________________________

● (Section 1) The Origins, Anatomy, and Physiology of Tieflings:

AN: It used to be that tieflings could only breed with other tieflings and humans. This seems to have been changed recently— one no longer has to have a demon somewhere in their genetic lineage to be a tiefling, one of their ancestors having contact with a demon is enough to produce a tiefling descendant. Which has interesting implications for Warlocks. There are also special versions of elf and orc tieflings.

(From what I can tell) tieflings live for about the same amount of time, maybe ~10 years longer than, humans do. (AN: Remember how I said the Forgotten Realms loves to retcon and disregard it’s own lore? The wiki states that their life span is from 90–150 years, but this source is from 2004 and the lore has greatly changed in the past 20 years. I am choosing to ignore the wiki here for my own sanity.)

Tieflings were humanoids with fiendish ancestry. They came about due to one of their ancestors (even many generations prior) getting freaky with a demon being "touched" by the evil planes in some way.

"Tieflings... were infused with the touch of the fiendish planes, most often through descent from fiends—demons, Yugoloths, devils, evil deities, and others... Although their evil ancestors could be many generations removed, the taint lingered."

Before some warlock shenanigans happened, tieflings had a much wider range of appearances than the ones we generally see now.

"In 1358 DR, a warlock coven...the Toril thirteen performed a ritual that cursed most tiefling lineages... [changing] their original lineage with that of the archdevil... Asmodeus [who] became a god... giving most tieflings... a similar devilish appearance... [whereas before] infernal blood could be diluted through intermarriage... afterward, the union of a tiefling with another race always produced a tiefling child."

Their infernal ancestry gave them some very powerful abilities.

"Tieflings had a number of abilities gifted to them by their fiendish heritage... an innate resistance to heat and... a hint of bloodlust that gave them a slight edge in combat. Tieflings also had access to an ability known as infernal wrath, which channeled their innate rage and potential for evil into their attacks for added effectiveness... [they] tended to have better reflexes than their human kin... [Tieflings are] alluring and intelligent creatures, with a seductive aura in spite of their obviously evil ancestry...

Along with some not so great traits that fed into the prejudices against them.

"Other, more unusual characteristics included a sulfurous odor, cloven feet, or... an unsettling air about them... a general aura of discomfort they left on others... most people were uncomfortable around them, whether they were aware of the tiefling's unsavory ancestry or not... Tieflings were carnivores. They consumed blood, blubber, bone, gristle and meat... [and] raw bone marrow..."

Tieflings tended to be resolute and tenacious, with a strong internal drive to rise above their circumstances.

"They are adaptable and resilient to hardship, and possess strong aptitude at whatever pursuit they dedicate themselves to... When facing adversity, the tiefling instinct is not to withdraw from the world, but rather to challenge it head-on... Tieflings seek to make their own fates, defy the odds, and take risks that... most... would not dare."

For some awesome insight on tieflings check out this post [alt] by @gortashs-skidmark, it's a good source on tiefling appearances and traits. Along with this post [alt] by @pikapeppa providing evidence-based headcanons on tiefling appearances. And this post [alt] by @y-rhywbeth2, which talks about how a tiefling's physical traits are influenced by their specific infernal heritage.

Their infernal appearance and weird vibes are why almost

● (Section 2) Everybody Hates Tieflings:

Even before Elturel's Decent into Avernus, and subsequently the events of BG3 (both of which I will cover later), Tieflings faced an incredible amount of discrimination— even from their own kind.

"Few tieflings were raised with the love a normal human child might expect to receive... Tieflings who had strikingly inhuman features were often killed at birth by their horrified parents or others. Only those tieflings with subtle features or born to someone indifferent to their appearance, either out of acceptance or cruel purpose, were likely to reach adulthood... Tieflings often distrusted one another, sometimes even casting the same preconceptions on one another that others did on them."

This post [alt] by @underdark-dreams highlights the discrimination tieflings face in game. And how the Flaming Fists should be called the Flaming Shits, but I'll get into that in another part of this series.

Understandably, they didn't easily trust others. But once someone did earn a tiefling's trust, they were an incredibly loyal friend.

"…[Tieflings] expected eventual rejection from all... However, members of other races would find that once they demonstrated friendship and trust towards a tiefling, it would quickly be reciprocated in full. Once that bond was forged, it was rarely broken."

While some tieflings wholeheartedly embraced the preconception that all tieflings were evil, others would endeavor to prove it wrong.

"Their attitude regarding their heritage... while some tieflings embraced it, others were repulsed by it... tieflings, who were proud of their fiendish past... chose to... thwart... dark plots and schemes. Others sought to... emulate these evil deeds. Other tieflings were ashamed or even frightened of their heritage and wished only to escape the shadow that lurked over them... Some did this through constantly doing good, as though to make up for the evil that begot them. Others instead hid [their heritage]…"

Looking like devils made people think they were devils, or acted like devils.

"Tieflings are widely stereotyped as wicked, cruel, and criminal individuals... [with] a tendency to be solitary loners... known for their quick temper, stubbornness, self-confidence, and fickleness in relationships."

And since people thought tieflings were, or would act like, devils they treated them like devils.

"The social rejection they typically face often leads tieflings to enter a life of crime, which furthers social prejudice against their race." 

"We're distrusted and viewed as evil malcontents for so long that we start to believe it ourselves. It's hard not to try to live up to the hype, eh?"— Enkillo the Sly, tiefling

It's not a stretch of the imagination to assume that people would believe that: the more devilish a tiefling looked = the more they'd behave like devils (evil). It's also safe assume: that the more infernal traits a tiefling had = the more, harsher, discrimination they'd face.

This leads into my next topic,

● (Section 3) Zevlor's Infernal Appearance:

He looks like a combo of Sylvester Stallone and Willem Dafoe.

He and his Habsburg jaw lookin ass face seems to always have a 5 o'clock shadow. (Probably because he's a refugee struggling to survive, so his personal grooming habits have taken a back seat.)

Zevlor has more infernal features than the other tieflings do in-game. (As shown in this post [alt] by @lolliputian and @haru-sen) He has very prominent cheekbones, a thick brow ridge, and BIG horns. (Look at @cinnasalmon's post [alt] on Zevlor's horn anatomy.)

HC: The reasons his face bones are so protuberant is because they need to support the weight of his huge horns, as without them his (face) skull would fracture/ cave in from the constant pressure. Poor guy probably lives with a perpetual headache.

Zevlor's prominent infernal facial features make him look older than he probably is— as they emphasize the traits we humans commonly associate with aging; such as defined nasal labial folds, a lack of facial fat, and big ears. The striations by his eyes look like wrinkles, but I think that they're mostly infernal markings.

Stress prematurely ages people, and Zevlor had multitudes of stressors throughout his life: Contending with the discrimination from being a tiefling with prominent infernal traits, joining an elite military unit at age 12, rising through its ranks to become a Commander of said unit, having his city dragged into the literal Hells (more on that in part 2), defending the civilians/ city trapped in the hells, surviving the hells, then being stripped of his rank and banished from his home because of racial prejudices, and then leading a group of (mostly civilian) refugees to Baldur's Gate— all while desperately trying to keep them alive in the face of Faerûn's many, many, dangers.

Combining all the factors above would make any man look 10+ years older than he actually is.

Zevlor looks scary. His irises look like they're on fire, and his teeth are scarier than Astarion's. I was browsing Tumblr alone in my room, at night, 😳 and this photo of Zevlor popped up on my feed giving me a good scare. I have an unhealthy obsession with Zevlor, he's made it onto my official husbando list! And yet, I can't look at certain screen shots of him at night because they scare me. I'm a wuss.

I simp hard for this man, and yet I am still frightened by his appearance sometimes. Imagine how people in Faerûn react when they see his sleep paralysis demon lookin ass him in person? Screaming and running away is completely understandable.

Which brings us to,

● (Section 4) How Discrimination Impacted a Young Zevlor:

Even as a young child Zevlor would've know that his appearance othered him.

"Most tieflings were aware from an early age that they were different from others around them..."

Even as a child Zevlor most likely knew that many people would dislike him and refuse to trust him because he was born a tiefling.

Tiefling families in the traditional sense are rare. Many tieflings, born to human parents who possess a latent infernal bloodline, are abandoned at birth and raised by a monastery, church, orphanage, or adoptive parents.

I headcanon that he had at least one loving parent—before he was orphaned, but it's entirely possible, and likely, that he was abandoned at birth.

Young Zevlor would've known that he would have to work very hard to be seen as something other than a criminal or evil monster.

"While some [tieflings] would... [turn] towards evil, others rejected it wholeheartedly and sought to make a good impact on the world around them, sometimes becoming the most heroic characters of all. Few could maintain this discipline however."

AN: Elturel was a theocracy (more on that part 2)— Zevlor likely grew up in a deeply religious family/ community.

All these factors combined would lead to a young Zevlor who:

Was determined to prove his goodness and rise above the adversity he faced. The force of will and work ethic he needed to become not just a Hellrider— but a Hellrider Commander, while being a tiefling, meant that he would've grown into a stubborn man. (See this post [alt] by @ohsayit)

Was so deeply religious and devoutly pious that he became a paladin. (More on this in part 2)

Internalized the impossible standards he was held to.

Developed a guilt complex (my "grew up Catholic" is showing)

Viewed any mistake he made as a personal moral failure, and as an indication of his inherent evil nature. (Hello again, Catholicism)

Would be hyperaware of how he's perceived by others.

Would learn how to read people's true intentions/ motivations.

Learned to vigilantly monitor, and strictly control his facial expressions and body language. (Is my autistic masking showing?)

Learned how to show deference to others through body language.

Leaned how to make himself appear smaller and less threatening.

Figured out how smile and laugh without showing his teeth.

Mastered the awkward and tight-lipped polite smile.

Figured out how to intelligibly speak with a tight jaw and lips so that his teeth wouldn't be seen by others while he spoke.

Developed self worth/ self esteem issues. Even other tieflings would've looked at him with suspicion and maybe even disgust.

That's it for part 1, here's another link to (Part 2) Elturel's history and culture, the Hellriders, and Zevlor's paladins oath. (Part 2.5)

and the other parts,

A deep dive into Zevlor's devotion series (master list)

[vickyvicarious]

Today's entry is really not Dr. Seward's best on display. He's matter-of-factly drugging his patient and rifling through his belongings. He's daydreaming about a cause worthy enough to justify even greater breaches of ethics than he's already doing. But in amongst these musings, there's some interesting foreshadowing too.

How well the man reasoned; lunatics always do within their own scope. I wonder at how many lives he values a man, or if at only one. He has closed the account most accurately, and to-day begun a new record. How many of us begin a new record with each day of our lives? To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended with my new hope, and that truly I began a new record.

Seward's interest in Renfield's skillful reasoning "within [his] own scope" and subsequent curiosity at how he measures the worth of men is of course ironic. He himself has been guilty of reasoning that only goes so far because of his own bias (about this guy in particular, in fact) and also values lives differently depending on the person. Or at least in different ways - we'll see the distinct difference between how he cares for Lucy in her illness (even when there is a question of potential 'madness') versus how he has behaved with Renfield. Obviously, there's other factors at play there too, but I can't help but think of the distinction here, particularly when it comes right before he moves on to thinking more directly about Lucy.

Renfield ends his first account when Seward denies him a cat, and eats all his birds to put a close to the whole process. But then he begins anew the next day. Seward muses about endings and beginnings, and claims that to him it feels like only yesterday that his life "ended with [his] new hope." This refers of course to Lucy rejecting him, and his beginning again was our first introduction to his audio diary. By his count, we're already on his second record. And those of us who have read the book before can recognize that a third will be coming up. Once again, a loss of Lucy will mark the end of his account - according to him, but then he will have to start again when he's inducted into the vampire-hunting. And that's when, as I've seen other people joking about, he gets his "strong, unselfish cause to make [him] work" - but it's far from happiness. (Though he in particular does get a line about savage delight in killing vampite!Lucy, it's another instance of unfulfilled potential in a way. The statement is anticipatory, and when it comes time to actual kill her, Jack is firstly the support, and secondly recognizes it as a terrible task. If he were the one staking, would he take a savage joy in doing so as he expected, or would it be a burden he bore out of love for the woman she was, as Arthur did? He actively participates in beheading her afterwards, in filling her mouth with garlic, in sealing her up. We don't hear his thoughts on any of that in any depth, and that happened after she apparently returned to her former self in death anyway, so... who knows.)

So it will be until the Great Recorder sums me up and closes my ledger account with a balance to profit or loss.

This line is also really interesting. In line of what happens later - both in how important records are throughout this story, and also in the epilogue making it clear that the entire book we've read is a preserved account.

But it also draws a comparison with Renfield's notebook. When Seward looked in it previously, he directly compared Renfield to an accountant, balancing numbers representing what we now know represent lives. This wording is kind of placing Renfield in the position of God; at the least imitating a Godly approach. That also goes along with what happens later on with Mina being burned by the Host and the characters seeming to interpret that as God deeming her unworthy (marked down as 'a loss') for no fault of her own.* It could link back to that line about reasoning within one's own scope again. I'm reminded of this excellent meta by @animate-mush which talks about how transgressing or occupying multiple roles is key in so many ways throughout this book. Staying within one's (typical/expected) scope is limiting, while Doing Both is strengthening. A madman's reasoning only goes so far - but then again, so does his doctor's. In that sense, having a straightforward binary of profit/loss is unhelpful. But of course, all this is happening within the context of the Good People fighting Bad Vampires book. As a rule, the novel doesn't delve too deeply into realizing moral dilemmas, even though it raises the question of them multiple times. So this whole line of thought I've been led down by these lines is kind of another instance of that, and there's no clear resolution to it. But it's interesting to think about.

*Pretty sure I've read at least one meta suggesting the mark was actually a warning to instill the necessary sense of urgency they needed to motivate them to save her before it became too late. That it was never meant as a mark of shame at all. In this case it's fully the characters' own limited view affecting their understanding of the situation, and the accountant view of a God tallying up more 'objective' pluses and minuses is lessened.

[mondaymelon]

just this once. (scaramouche x gn!reader)

warnings/notes! sick insomniac reader, scara is a bit of a meanie in the beginning, fluff, implied suggestive content

(a/n) gift for kyoi!! ive been bribed to write this - also this is scaramouche, not wanderer! takes place before sumeru archon quest - requests are open at the time of writing this btw!!

epilogue in the tags!!

enjoy!!⋆｡°✩

________________________________________

"Idiot."

"Hey!"

"What? I'm not the one who's sick right now. Only idiots catch colds." Scaramouche sneered at you, dark violet eyes gleaming cruelly.

"I've got a fucking weak immune system!!" Protesting, you crossed your arms and pouted from where you lay buried underneath the blankets on your bed.

"As a puppet, all I can say is that human bodies warrant more trouble than they're worth. As far as I'm concerned, you're the one who has the lacking side of the bargain here." Scaramouche rolled his eyes at your antics, only laughing quietly to himself when you abruptly sneezed.

Sniffling, you glared up at him. "Ugh, seriously? I'm sick right now, can we just..." You gestured your hands wildly, not exactly sure what point you were trying to prove. "...not?"

"As if."

"Be roommates with Scara, they said... it'll be fun, they said..." Cursing under your breath you sighed dramatically. "Who am I kidding right now??"

The Fatui Harbinger just stared at you, a smile playing at his lips. "Go on, it's fun seeing you so worked up over nothing. Ah~ truly. Why go circuses from Fontaine when you already have such a dramatic show in front of you?" Scaramouche let out a bout of laughter, only pausing when you sneezed yet again.

Groaning loudly, you flopped back onto your pillow with a soft thump. Scaramouche watched your movements as if he had nothing better to do.

"So... are you just... going to stand there? Ominously?" You sent a pointed look at the violet-haired man, arms crossed, eyes half-open and staring down at you.

"Maybe I will."

"Whatever then. Goodnight." You turned over, gripping your plush blankets with one hand with the other propped under your head while you tried not to think about Scara's burning gaze on you. And although you were tired, tired was an understatement, you couldn't find it in you to fall asleep. Either it was the Fatui Harbinger standing by your bedside and seemingly waiting for you to fall asleep, or maybe it was just your insomnia being a bitch. Your heart hammered in your ears. Why now, out of all times, had you had to get sick?

"Hey. You okay?"

What was that?

"Turn around for a second. I can't see your face." There was a note in the man's voice that you had somehow never heard before. The sneering tone was gone, for once and it had been replaced with someone a lot more mild.

"...Okay." Turning around, you felt your face flush at the sight. Some time had passed, and now the bright moonlight streamed into the room through the windows on the adjacent wall. Scaramouche stood there, chin slightly lifted, gaze unwavering, his hair ruffled lightly and an almost worried expression on his face.

...worried...?

Scaramouche leaned forward, brows furrowing at your red face. Gently cupping your cheek, easily taking you by surprise, he frowned slightly. "You're burning up."

"W-What-??"

"Stay here. Don't get up or even try to move or you will overexert yourself. I know your limits far more than you do." Scaramouche pressed a finger to your lips, effectively shushing you. However, his eyes were still uncharacteristically soft, expression weary, almost. He was acting so... soft. And it was almost scaring you. "I'm going to get you an ice pack and something to drink."

Not really sure how to respond, you just nodded.

Scaramouche smiled at your reply. And it was strange. Really, really strange. Bursts of something you couldn't exactly decipher spread throughout your body, lighting up something in your heart. It was hard to describe, as much as it was hard to feel it. As soon as you had broken out of your daze, the harbinger was already gone.

So, you sat there, and waited.

And before long, he was back. This time, carrying a little wooden tray with two cups on it. One for you, and on for him. You didn't even know Scaramouche was capable of acting like this. You gratefully accepted the cup, sipping the drink happily. It was on nights like these that you truly were able to appreciate how lucky you were.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Mhm. Thanks... for well, everything you've done for me tonight." You beamed at him. Your fever had gone down, and now the night air felt cold on your skin. You were in a Fatui encampment in Shneznaya, but the only thing it made you do was make you long for the warm afternoons of Liyue.

Scaramouche had pulled up a chair - when, you had no idea. He silently nodded before trailing his gaze back up to you.

"Still can't sleep?"

"Ah... well..." You let out a sheepish giggle, placing your now-empty cup on the nightstand beside your bed. "You know how it is. I have trouble falling asleep."

Scaramouche stayed silent at that, and didn't say anything. You had begun to think you had somehow offended him, and he was thinking up of ways to dispose of your body before he finally spoke again. "Are you cold?"'

You nodded truthfully before saying, "It's only to be expected, though. Even with the Fatui's high technology heating systems, Shneznaya's permanent winter just can't be beaten." Shivering, you huddled up the blankets on your bed tighter.

"Then...

...Can I sleep with you? Just this once?"

Caught you off-guard was an understatement. A severe understatement. You stared at Scaramouche, who was busy examining the floor, face flushed. "...Can you repeat that?"

"Ugh- You-!" Scaramouche cut himself off, face red. "I'll sleep with you. Just for tonight."

...scara's blushing. "Why so flustered?" you jokingly retorted, somewhat enjoying the current situation.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Hmmm~ well, you'll have to give me some time to decid-"

Scaramouche didn't let you finish. He rushed forward, holding your shoulders in his tight grip as he fell onto you. Strands of hair framed his face in a picturesque manner as you stared up at him from where he had you pinned on the bed. Not even letting you stop to breathe, he pressed your wrists above your head and into the mattress, your eyes widening as you felt a warm pair of lips meet yours. He stole your breath away as he pulled back, glistening eyes dilated as he smirked down at you. His usual expression was beginning to dawn back on his face as he leaned into you and whispered into your ear:

"I don't think you'll ever have trouble sleeping again."

masterlist ✩

[despondentnuzzy]

Alright fuck it I want to ramble analyze characters more. I've been stuck on who so I opened to a random page. Saw Marasi first and now I am going to see what things my brain will inform me about her as I write this post.

Spoils for Era 1 and 2 of Mistborn

I've seen Marasi compared to Vin, both in the text and in some posts online, but let's take another angle.

In Mistborn if I asked you which character

Is the socially inconvenient child to an upper class house

Has a half-sibling that gets romantically involved with the main protagonist

First bonds with our earring wearing protagonist at a high society function

Has an education that leads them to believe they can fix the whole world if you just let them do it

Oh my gosh it's Elend Venture in a wig!

But now that I think about it, there is a lot of similarities between Elend and Marasi beyond surface level plot.

Marasi and Elend of course share the traits mentioned above but also share a similar problem. Theory works in theory, practice doesn't always work in practice.

Both of these characters would achieve far greater success if they just didn't play by the rules they said everyone should agree to on the basis they know better.

However while Elend relents at the end of his era, becoming a mostly benevolent tyrant.

Marasi gives up her opportunity to circumnavigate her rules. She rejects the offer to join the Ghostbloods. An organization she could likely do far more with than any regular position within The Basins policing system would ever afford her.

Now in Wax's epilogue we find out she's running for Governor, which would give her greater ability to enact her reforms but she is still working within the system, which realistically will greatly limit her ability to solve problems. (Although I'm sure come Era 3 we'll find out she did plenty of good for the people of Scadriel.)

I mentioned previously that Wayne is toxic preservation while Wax is literally stated to be a force of ruin.

In this view I would see Marasi as Harmony. Unlike Sazed, who is Harmony due to his duplicitous (but not decietful) nature, Marasi is a true balance.

Rusts I feel like I said very little with too much in this post? OH FUCK HER ALLOMANCY!

Umm fuck, Marasi probably has symbolic traits tied to her Allomancy let's see.

You could argue that it plays into how slowly she feels like she grows, that everything can happen so fast around her and that if she was only given the right tools (allomantic grenades) her skills would become invaluable?? Idk I probably should make another post about her sometime. Feels like I didn't do her justice here haha

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field XV

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 5.7k (omg)

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do.). implications and mentions of abuse and some non-graphic violence, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation (heavy on that one in this part guys). also, r is unhinged as shit in this one!! enjoy!!

a/n: and it all comes down to this… damn. only one more part 🥲. this one was long but so so fun to write and i really hope you enjoy it!! final part and the epilogue are coming soon! oh! and the playlist is here!!

series masterlist // playlist

When you finally make it to the compound, you're grateful that it's almost deserted by the peacekeepers. There were a few around here and there, but from the hole in the fence you were about to enter through, you had a clear shot to where Sejanus was supposedly being held.

Deep breath. I've got to make this quick.

You exhale and start running, light on your feet with a crowbar in hand, either to break the bars or swing at anyone who tries to stop you from freeing him. Crouched down next to the wall now, you peek in the barred window to one of their many interrogation rooms. Nothing. He has to be in one of these, so you slide over against the wall to look in the next window. At least you didn't have to go far.

"Sejanus." You whisper through the open window, seeing that he's alone inside. And he doesn't look good. His face is swollen, cut, and bruised. Clearly, he's been tortured, but hopefully he hadn't given up Coryo.

He looks up, dazed as if he wasn't sure he was really hearing you. "Sejanus." You repeat. "Get up, we have to go. Right now."

Before he responds, you're already attempting to pry the bars apart.

"Y/N?" He says quietly, stumbling to get up as he makes his way over to the window.

"Yeah, it's me." You nod quickly. "Now how were you going to open these bars for that girl? We don't have much time."

"Uh, okay, uh... Give it to me." He says, gesturing for you to hand him the tool, which you quickly slide through the bars. As soon as he takes it you're digging in your bag, pulling out a hammer to see if you can help pull them out with the backend.

He's much stronger than you, so it doesn't take long for him to yank out three of them- just enough for him to fit through. He moves a chair over to help himself climb out, and you pull him the rest of the way, both of you falling back into the dirt.

You're grabbing him as soon as you get your footing, and you're both sprinting for the hole in the fence where you entered, hidden behind the generator shed. You run until you get to the treeline, stopping to catch your breath once you're out of sight. You don't believe anyone saw you. You're home free.

Panting, hands pressed on your knees, you look over at Sejanus who collapsed into the grass, chest heaving from the exertion. His injuries likely didn't help. "We gotta keep going." You breathe, throat stinging.

"Yeah, I know..." He agrees, clearly just as out of breath. He was in better shape than you, but you assume his injuries are no help. "Why did you do it?" He adds, sitting up and pressing a hand to his chest as if that will help slow his heartbeat.

"What?"

"Come save me." He takes a quick, shaky breath. "You could have been caught, they would kill you too."

"I won't bury another friend." You answer, standing up straight again with a shake of your head. It was a stretch to call Arachne, Felix, or the Twins your friends, but they were just about the closest thing you had to it besides him and Coryo. "You didn't do anything worth killing you over."

Sejanus squints at the sun as he breaks a small smile, looking up at you. "Thank you."

"Anytime." You nod, readjusting the bag over your shoulder. "Now, we gotta get out of here. I don't know where we're gonna hide until morning, but...”

"We?" He asks, brow furrowed as he gets up, dusting off his blue peacekeeper jumpsuit.

"Yes." You confirm. "The four of us are gonna go, without anyone else who was there last night."

"Four..." He hums to himself. "Me, you..."

"Lucy Gray and Coriolanus." You nod, finishing the thought for him.

"I... why?"

You sigh, looking past the trees back to the base. "They're looking for the guns that killed Mayfair and Billy Taupe. The mayor is deadset that it was Lucy Gray, but if they find the guns it'll be both her and Coryo who are killed for it. And I... just aided a rebel escape." You explain, smiling a little as you point to yourself. "And released all those birds. My fingerprints are probably all over those cages, that's probably treason."

"You..?" Sejanus asks, shock crossing his features. "You set them free?"

"Yeah." You nod matter-of-factly. "God, it feels so good to tell someone too. I wouldn't have gotten any credit otherwise."

"Why?" He asks, tilting his head at you.

You shrug. "Wanted to piss off Coryo. It worked, didn't it?"

"Kinda..." He gives you a weird look you can't quite decipher.

"Anyway, let's get going. We have to get Lucy Gray."

"Why are we waiting until morning?" He asks, and you can't help but feel it's somewhat of a stupid question. He's also literally a peacekeeper.

"Coryo can't leave until dawn." You explain. "Probably has to spend the rest of the day hunting you down, now..." You say, mulling over the words as they leave your mouth. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to stick around, but you weren't leaving without Coryo. "Actually, why don't you go ahead?"

"I... Well..." He looks back over his shoulder at the camp as it disappears between the trees, both of you walking deeper into the woods to take the long way back to Lucy Gray's meadow.

"When we get to the meadow there's a pretty clear path out to this lake and cabin in the woods. About three hours walk on that knee, you could be there by supper time, spend the night there and we'll meet you there in the morning." You tell him. "No one knows about it spare for the Covey. You'll be safe there tonight."

"Okay. Yeah, that's a better idea." He agrees, following along after you through the woods.

The night couldn't have gone by slower. Curled up under the trees on the far side of the meadow, you and Lucy Gray hardly said a word to one another but you knew neither one of you was sleeping. That was, until just before you had to leave to meet Coryo. You felt a little guilty for waking her up when she had only just fallen asleep, soft snores falling from her lips until you shook her awake.

Groggily, the two of you made your way to the hanging tree, a clearing in the woods near the peacekeepers compound. It was a haunting area, to be certain. You didn't dare say a word, in case the Jabberjays were to make an echo of it.

You sat down behind the tree just before the sun was set to rise, letting Lucy Gray lean her head on your shoulder to try and get a bit more sleep before Coriolanus showed up. But again, that wouldn't be long.

It was a solid half hour, and the sky was in the middle of its slow shift from orange to blue when you heard footsteps approaching. You both stood quickly, backs pressed to the tree. You peak around it, relieved to see it was him.

"Coryo." You whisper, smiling softly and pulling him into a hug.

"Hey, Y/N/N..." He hums, rubbing your back gently. You can still see the sleep in his eyes; at least one of you got some rest.

"Alright." You sigh, turning to face Lucy Gray before gesturing in the direction of the woods. "Lead the way."

She nods, small smile forming on her face as she looks up at your boyfriend. You had to assume that's what he was to you now- friends don't do what you do.

The two of you follow after her for miles, as quickly but as quietly as possible. It's hard to think about the fact that you're leaving your whole life behind, so you just don't. You zone out as your feet crunch through the now familiar underbrush of the woods, thinking of what the future will hold. Not what it will lack.

It'll lack structure, no doubt, but you'll have all the freedom the world has to offer. You don't know where you'll go, but you can't help but daydream about building a cabin out of the woods, maybe by another lake, where you and Coryo could live together forever. Maybe you'd learn how to make new clothes with materials you find, if you could find any, or maybe you would start your garden again and grow all kinds of beautiful natural flowers alongside almost all of your food. Maybe Coriolanus would become a proficient hunter, and all you would have to do is lay in the sun and look pretty, occasionally gathering things from your garden to go with his catch for dinner. Maybe you'd grow raspberries and wild roses.

Maybe you'd have a child. A little boy he could teach how to speak as eloquently as he does, or hunt as successfully as he will. Maybe it'll be a little girl, who he can dote over while you tend to your garden, and teach her songs you learned from the Covey. She'll be a beautiful singer, a beautiful girl with Coryo's blonde hair and blue eyes to die for. Regardless, you can tell your kids about your lives. About home, about where you grew up and what life used to be. About the uncle they have back home but will never meet, and about your friends who you lost. About Arachne, and Felix, and the twins, about the games and about Sejanus who needed saving more often than not and about how you were both full of pride when your tribute won, Lucy Gray.

Lucy Gray.

You're snapped out of your daydreams within a moment. You don't know how long you had been lost in your own mind, imagining a life that doesn't exist, but by now, Coryo was walking a few feet ahead of you with her.

The endearing smile on her face that you can see only when she turns her head to look at him is making you uneasy. She would be there, you won't have to tell your kids about her because she will be there. That's not necessarily a bad thing, Lucy Gray is lovely, and by now you consider her a friend. But maybe she's too lovely. Maybe Coriolanus considers her a friend too, it's clear he does. He has much of a right to as you do, you both saved her life, but mostly him. He pulled the strings, you just helped however you were asked to and more. He decided that her life was worth risking both his and yours to save.

Maybe she meant more to him than you thought. Maybe she is what brought him to Twelve. Maybe, he got to choose and he chose her moments after "choosing" to throw your life away in front of you. He chose her.

"Are you thinking about Sejanus?" She asks, and it's the first bit of their conversation you catch.

"He's fine. Not too injured, he should be waiting at the cabin. I said we'd meet him there." You interject, reminding them of something they already knew.

"I just wish it hadn't come to that." Coryo replies, looking back at you for a fraction of a second before turning back to Lucy Gray. "Sorry, you had to leave this place." He adds after a few moments of silence.

"I'll miss the Covey." She hums, "I hope they'll follow me someday, though." You look at the orange scarf draped over her shoulders, a pit of unease settling uncomfortably just behind your ribs.

"You know what I won't miss? People." Coryo says, and you hum in agreement.

"People aren't so bad. Not really." Lucy Gray shrugs. "It's what the world does to them, like all of us in the arena. I think there's a natural goodness born into us all."

Both of you scoff in practical unison. If you had to guess, it was quite the opposite.

"No, really. You can either... cross that line, into evil... or not. And it's our life's work to stay on the right side of that line."

"It's not always that simple." Coryo replies, looking back at you with something indecipherable behind his stare. Pity? An acknowledgment of your nature being something unworldly in her description? You bite your tongue.

"I know. I'm a victor." Lucy Gray says with a click of her tongue, distaste dripping from her tone. "It sure will be nice to not have to kill anyone else out north though, huh?"

"Two and a half is enough for me." Coryo chuckles, stopping as she continues ahead. You stop with him. "I'm gonna make a walking stick. You want one?" He offers to you, picking up a tree branch from the underbrush.

"I'm fine, thanks." You smile, watching as he tries to brush it off and wincing when he sticks himself on the wood.

"Three? Who's the third?" Lucy Gray asks, turning slowly up ahead.

"You okay?" You ask, ignoring her as he sucks his thumb into his mouth to stop the bleeding you already saw begin.

"What?"

"-Person you killed, Coriolanus. You said you killed three people I only know about two. Do not lie to me." Her voice is harsh. Accusatory. And you don't like it one bit.

"He said two and a half." You chuckle hesitantly, eyeing the girl up and down at her drastic change in attitude. You didn't know who he was talking about either, but you were the one with a hot temper and you wouldn't even react like that.

"Can you help me get this out?" He asks, taking a few steps over to her in effort to distract her from the question.

"Here." You stop him with a gentle hand on his arm. "Let me look..." He stops, looking between the two of you as you take his hand, looking down at the splinter in his thumb.

"There was Bobbin, in the arena, and Mayfair, and who's the third?" Lucy Gray continues, only escalating in her upset over nothing.

Coryo locks eyes with you for a moment, and you raise your eyebrows slightly to try and portray your antipathy with her reaction.

"My old self." He speaks, looking back over at her as you gently try and push the splinter out from under his skin. "I killed him, so I could come with you girls."

"And Sejanus." You giggle, trying to lighten the mood and also distract him from you using your nail to pull the splinter out. It looked painful. "Also, I would say your old self is half of you. Well put."

Lucy Gray clearly wasn't buying it. You could see it in her face as he hissed at you finally getting it out. "There you go." You hum, squeezing his hand gently as it was still cradled in between yours.

"Thank you, Darling." He smiles, pulling back his hand and patting your arm, gesturing to the faded path ahead. "C'mon."

You try your hardest not to glare as you catch up with Lucy Gray, Coryo's arm now rested comfortably over your shoulder.

The rain picked up into a downpour, further softening the ground you were walking on.

"Why don't we stop here at the cabin? Wait out the storm." Coryo suggests as the cabin comes into view up ahead.

"Ugh, please." You agree, already attempting to flatten your soaked hair that is frizzing up from the rain and the humidity.

"We should really keep goin'." Lucy Gray cuts in, making you roll your eyes.

"We're gonna need food on the way." Coryo insists. "Let's catch some fish while we're here." Even if you got to sit in the cabin for a few minutes, it would be well worth it to try and dry off just a bit.

"Sejanus!" You call out as you climb up the steps. "It's us! You okay?" You push open the door, finally feeling like you're able to breathe out of the rain until you realize he's not there. "Sejanus?" You ask, looking around the only corner in the small cabin.

"Not here?" Coryo asks and you shake your head, brow furrowed.

"No..." You hum, peeking out the window. "He must be nearby though. We'll have to wait for him to get back."

"If you wanted fish, there's rods under the floorboards." Lucy Gray says, completely ignoring you and closing the door as she's the last to enter.

Coryo nods, stomping around on the floor to check for which ones were loose. "These ones?"

"Uh-huh." Lucy Gray nods at him, watching as he kneels down to lift the old wooden planks.

"You gonna stay in here, Y/N/N? Dry up a bit?" He asks you and you nod, giving him a small smile. In the corner of your eye you can see Lucy Gray looking at you. She doesn't necessarily look mad, but something is just so... off.

You can't help but wonder if all her negative energy she's putting out is because of you. Not literally, because you remember her being so sweet when you were alone. Is she mad because of you and Coryo? That has to be it. What happened to the girl who helped you write a love song to him and encourage you to sing it?

She helped write it. She was dead set on writing it, actually. You provided the tune and she did most of the rest. You were never much of a poet. She wrote that song to him- you were just the voice she used to tell him. You were a puppet to her, and suddenly your wrists ache from the mere idea that she manipulated you in that way.

The floorboards creak underneath you as you sit down, leaning against the wall. If Lucy Gray was going to be handing out dirty looks, you could too. You lock eyes with her, trying to maintain some semblance of a smile, but you just stare at each other.

Within seconds it's evident that any bit of trust you had for one another is gone. That just won't do if you were running away together. She had to go.

She's the first to cower away from the staring contest, of course, when Coryo stands up again.

"What is it?" She asks him, and as you look, you see he's holding the gun.

You gasp, shooting up from where you had just settled on the ground. "Is that?"

"It's the gun." He answers before you finish your question, an expression of shock and relief embedded in his features.

"The one you fired at Mayfair." Lucy Gray gathers, seeming as she wasn't there. "Spruce must've known about this place." She shrugs, avoiding your gaze completely. "Well, you destroy that gun you're free. You can go back home."

You and Coryo look at each other, unsure what to do or say. He could go back, he was home free. But leaving you with her? And poor Sejanus who was out in the rain somewhere either dead or limping on an almost useless knee? No chance.

"Will you?" She asks.

"No more loose ends..." He nods a little to himself, looking down at the gun in his hands. You poke your tongue into your cheek and look down at the floor. He's actually considering leaving you behind.

"Besides us." You look at Lucy Gray through narrowed eyes as she speaks. What was she trying to imply? You would never do that to him. You figured that was pretty obvious.

"Besides you?" Coryo asks, looking between the two of you. When his eyes land on you he’s more worried, with something more accusatory when they glue on to Lucy Grayverifying your perspective that yes, he knows you would never do that. "You wouldn't tell anyone." He says to her, but it comes out more as a question.

She hesitates before shaking her head with a smile that's so anger inducing you'd like to throw her in the lake and watch her drown. "Course not..." She tops it off with, and you tick your head to the right.

"I mean, it's not like anyone would really believe you." You state. "They're all convinced it was you who pulled the trigger."

"I'm just gonna go dig up some Katniss. There's a good patch down by the lake." She ignores you again. Am I missing something? Am I fucking invisible?

"Thought it was too early for that." Coryo reminds her, and the nervous smile on his face brings you hope that he also knows something is off.

"Well, the world changes awful fast." Even so much as her heavy district accent is driving you up the wall at this point. It's hardly even english.

"Lucy Gray. It's still raining." Coryo pleads with her and you eye the knife in her hand, taking a small step closer to his side.

"Well, I'm not made outta sugar." Lucy Gray says, smiling innocently before turning and walking out, closing the door behind her.

You both stand there in silence for a few moments, him staring at the gun, you staring at him.

"It was Sejanus." He says so quietly you can hardly make it out from under a yard away.

"Huh?"

"I sent a recording of his confession to Dr. Gaul. I was the reason they were going to..." He can't even say it.

"You?" You whisper back. "I... no. That's not your fault."

"It is."

You shake your head, reaching out to gently lower the gun so you can place your hand on his cheek. "It's not, but it doesn't matter anyways because he is out here, with us, and we're gonna be okay. He's gonna be fine, and you're gonna be fine. Yeah?" You assure him, smiling softly as you run your thumb over his cheekbone.

"Yeah..." He mumbles, relaxing under your touch.

"Will you go home?" You ask, chewing nervously on your bottom lip. You really, really didn't want him to leave you out here alone. You wouldn't survive and you knew that.

Coryo looks down at you, shaking his head softly. "No. Not without you. I told you that."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? No, no. Don't be sorry. We're doing the right thing." He promises.

"You think?"

"I know." He smiles. "Don't you trust me?"

"More than anything." You whisper. "But I have one... fear, I guess." You say, rubbing your forearm nervously and looking out the window.

"What is it?"

"Oh, no. It's nothing. I think I'm just being crazy." You chuckle, going over to the window to look out now.

"Y/N, what are you afraid of?" Coryo's tone is serious now, and you have to fight back a smile.

"Well, I was just thinking on the walk out here... Like, what will happen to us, what will we do, you know?" You start, letting the smile slip through at the memory of your daydreams. "I'm thinking we'll build a house out here, a little bigger than this one, but not a whole lot, and I'll have a garden and grow our food and some roses just for you, and we'll just have a happy little life."

The crease of worry in his forehead morphs into one of confusion as he smiles. "What? Then what are you afraid of? That sounds lovely."

"Well... And like I said, I'm sure I'm just being crazy, but Lucy Gray... I just feel like she doesn't want that for us." You say, looking up at him and scanning his face for a reaction.

"Why not?"

"I don't know! That's why it's making me feel crazy because it's so out of character for her but she's been really mean to me all day. Like, I don't know if you've noticed but she's been ignoring me or glaring at me and when she snapped earlier about what you said and I just... Yeah. It's not sitting right with me." You try and wave it off with a nervous smile, but Coryo's eyes are locked on the window, deep in thought.

"Do you think she was using us?" You ask him, when you can see that you're getting in his head. "I mean, from the beginning. She is a performer, after all. Maybe it was all a show, and she didn't want us to come here and she's been waiting for a chance to get rid of us ever since, but now she's stuck with us for the rest of all of our lives. I feel almost... unsafe."

Coryo looks over at you now, eyes cold.

"Okay, and actually, what the hell was that that just happened? She would totally go back and tell them it was you! That was the fakest reaction I have ever seen, and I was friends with Arachne and Clemensia for years!" You laugh bitterly. "Like, who's to say she wouldn't run straight back to town and tell them you shot Mayfair and exactly where to find me? I'm sure my father put out a reward!"

"You're not crazy." He mumbles, joining you at the window with the gun gripped tighter in his hands.

"You don't think so?" You ask, painting on the puppy dog eyes as you look up at him.

"No." Coryo shakes his head slightly, looking through the window to where you both know the katniss patch is, and Lucy Gray is nowhere to be seen.

"...She's been gone for a while." You add for good measure, and he just nods.

"Stay here. Don't come out. I'm gonna get rid of these." He says, picking up the bag of guns and walking out the door.

You huff at the seriousness of his tone and sit back down on the ground, leaning back against the wall. You really wish you had taken a towel from the house or something to attempt at drying your hair or warming your skin, but the only thing you had time to pack in your rush yesterday was those tools and your clothes from home. Most of the backpack was full of that coat Tigris gave you, folded up as small as you could possibly get it at the bottom. It was beautiful, and real, and you could tell it meant something to her so you wouldn't dare use it as a towel. Besides, it probably wouldn't be very effective anyway.

But, the Covey did always come out here to swim, so maybe there was one lying around here somewhere. Under another loose floorboard, or something.

While you're looking, you hear Coriolanus's voice fading as he calls out for Lucy Gray. Clearly, she wasn't at the katniss patch like she said she would be.

Maybe she did run back. She had a solid head start on you guys if she did, and as you scrap your task of looking for a towel to swing the door open, you freeze. Coryo told you to stay, to wait for him to come back. He's got it handled. But does he? Is he just going off to find her and they'll both run off without you?

Screw it. He'll forgive you for not listening later.

You open the door, looking out to see if you can catch a glimpse of his white shirt or blonde buzzcut anywhere, but you can't. "Lucy Gray? If something happened we can talk about it!" You hear his voice fading into the woods.

You take a hatchet from the side of the cabin, and follow the sound of his voice as best as you can, still not wanting to make your presence known.

Until you hear Coriolanus screaming. Pained screaming that makes your stomach turn in fear for his life.

"Coryo!" You break into a run toward the sound, trying to track him down with the axe clutched in your hand.

"Is that poisonous?" He shouts, and while you're absolutely panicking, you're happy to hear that he's not already dead. "Are you trying to kill me?" Much closer now, and you spot him kneeling on the ground a little ways away. "Lucy Gray!" His voice flipped from pained to angry like a switch, but you knew he was already on the brink. You designed it, after all. "I said, are you trying to kill me?!"

"Coryo, Coryo what happened?" You ask, running up and dropping to your knees in front of him as he starts to laugh, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Hey, look at me, what happened?"

He ignores your question, chest heaving as he clutches the scarf in his hands. It was a beautiful, orange silk that was now completely muddy and destroyed from being on the wet, muddy ground.

"Are you hurt?" You ask, dropping the hatchet and reaching for his face instead while he holds the crumpled-up fabric to his face.

"Snake." He chuckles dryly, shaking his head. It turns quickly into his shoulders quaking as he sobbed into the material.

"Hey, okay, okay. Let me see. Let me see it. Where are you bit?" You ask, trying to look him over.

When it's clear you won't get a better answer out of him, you stand up, picking the small tool up again, feeling the shift of the wood as it turns into a weapon in your grip.

"Lucy Gray?" You call out, trying to quell the shakiness of anger into something soothing. "You don't need to hide! Come talk to me. I'm not going to hurt you..."

You stop a few feet away from your friend, looking at the area around you and wishing you could see through the trees. "He didn't mean to scare you, Hun!" You adjust your grip on the wet handle of the weapon sitting heavy in your palm.

"Lucy Gray!" You yell, unable to hide the frustration in your tone as you walk further into the woods. "Did you do it on purpose?!"

A few more steps, and you hear twigs cracking a ways to your right. You quickly look, but see nothing. "Fine, Lucy Gray. If you want to play Hunger Games, we can play Hunger Games..." You settle the hatchet between both hands now, lifting it up to your shoulder as you walk toward the sound. "Don't forget, we survived it too."

"Y/N." You hear Coryo's voice behind you and you turn to look at him. He gives a quick whistle, nodding for you to come back to him as he stands with the gun back in his hands.

You look around quickly again before backing up to meet him halfway. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's breathing heavily. You can see it in the tense rise and fall of his shoulders.

He steps in front of you, nudging you behind him with his elbow as he lifts the gun. A twig snaps a little ways away, and by the time you look past him and catch a glimpse at Lucy Gray's dress between the trees he's already fired the gun.

She yelps, stumbling and falling behind some bushes. You grip the small axe tighter, brushing past him to go to her. To make sure the job is finished.

"Y/N. No." Coryo barks at you, voice stern. "Go back to the cabin, gather our stuff. I'll handle it."

You nod, glancing at him only briefly before following his direction and heading back toward the cabin.

You open the door, sighing with a small smile on your face. "Y/N? What happened? I heard a shot."

You're confronted with Sejanus standing inside now. You just stare at him in your shock. You had completely forgotten about him, Coryo must have as well.

When you don't reply, he speaks again. "I just was looking around to see what direction we should go from here, I came back as soon as I heard it."

Your eyes narrow as you look at him, eyes flitting back and forth while you decide what to say.

"Where's Coryo? And Lucy Gray?"

You glance back over your shoulder out the still open door.

"Y/N..." He mumbles, concern riddling his face. "Did he... did he do something to her?"

The silence that falls in the room is suddenly thick, and heavy, and it changes everything.

"Is she..."

You tighten your hold on the hatchet, shaking any reason out of your head. "No loose ends."

"Loose ends..?" Sejanus asks, taking a step back from you. "I won't- I won't tell anyone, there's no one for me to tell... but you have to understand he's dangerous right now."

"Lucy Gray," You take a step closer, lightly swinging the weapon. "Was plotting against us. You have to understand, he didn't have a choice. So I don't either."

"Y/N, you do." He holds his hands up defensively between the two of you. "You can be better. You don't want to do this, okay? You're just... panicking, and I get that, but let's just talk. Okay? We can sort it out." His voice is shaking now.

You bite into your cheek. "No. You're not one of us. You've made that very clear, Sejanus." You shake your head, raising the axe over your shoulder. "We, are going to have our own house, our own family, and I am going to have my own garden, and I am sick of people trying to stop me." You say through gritted teeth, taking steps closer with every statement.

"Y/N, I won't stop you. We're best friends, I know you don't want-" His panicked pleas are halted as his back hits the wall behind him, and you hear several more shots fire out in the woods. You look back for just a second before snapping your eyes back to your friend.

"Run." You tell him, tossing the hatchet onto the ground a few feet away in a moment of weakness.

"Y/N, I can't leave you out here with him like this. I just-"

"Sejanus, run." You tell him again, taking in the fear and panic on his face.

He nods, and you let him walk past you to the door. He stops, and you both turn to face each other at the same time. As you look at his beat up, sad face, you know you'll never see him again and your eyes start to well up with tears that you quickly blink away.

Before you know it, he's pulling you into a hug. "Thank you," He mumbles as you hesitate to hug him back. "For everything."

"I'm sorry." Is all you can muster up, whispering it as you rest your chin on his shoulder.

He pulls away, patting your shoulders gently. "Your garden will be beautiful." He smiles weakly, voice still shaking as he turns and walks out of your sight. Hopefully, for the last time.

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[elvhenmage]

John Corcoran (@mrjohncorcoran) As promised, a non-exhaustive list of Shadowheart hooks/hints/prompts in two parts in the thread. From throughout the game, so spoilers naturally

General audience:

Nibbles the mouse

Shadowheart defending Nocturne while they were initiates. Hint that Viconia is proud of her, though never admits it

Nocturne doing Shadowheart's hair

Buddog, a childhood rival/bully of Shadowheart, who was also part of the mission to steal the Astral Prism

Training and indoctrination against Githyanki

The actual heist to take the Astral Prism from Vlaakith's vaults. Shadowheart being the sole survivor of a five-member team

Hints at an earlier infiltration mission at a ball in Baldur's Gate

Viconia giving Shadowheart elocution lessons to help her blend into high society

Shadowheart's enjoyment of disguises and roleplay as part of her Sharran training

Shadowheart and Nocturne's hideaway full of night orchids

'Four dogs, eight cats, nine chickens, six pigeons, four sheep, a milk cow named Daphne, a squirrel who's far too clever for her own good, and a wolf cub I found orphaned in some woods'

The owlbear joining Shadowheart's menagerie

Shadowheart's failed attempts to preserve some of her memories

Allister Marnley (Shadowheart's deceased tutor)

The graffiti

Remembering childhood games from the blighted village

Flashes of memories upon being punished by Shar's curse (while playing as Shadowheart only - not companion).

Learning about Dark Justiciars as a young initiate, and dreaming of becoming one

Nocturne helping Shadowheart remember herself whenever she had her memories taken away

'I'd like to see the islands maybe, or head south to Amn. I heard there's an enclave of werecats that hunt the followers of dark gods by moonlight. I'd love to see if there's any truth to that'

Shadowheart's Special Scrumpy

Dragon-riding with Lae'zel

Bonding with her mother, and remembering the taste of her cooking from childhood

Learning jokes from her father

Visiting the House of the Moon, and evading Sharran assassins

Somewhat spicy audience:

What unfolded under the cover of darkness in Sharess' Caress.

Shared love of smutty literature with Wyll

Hint of discreet romances and encounters amongst Sharran trainees at the Cloister

Ever notice how the Sharrans all seem to sleep together in a big dorm?

Untying knots with her tongue

'Try not to dream of tying me up'

Mistaking Durge's nighttime bloodlust for something more amorous, and being perfectly willing to go along with it stealthily while the rest of the camp sleeps

'She looks like she could throw me over her shoulder and carry me to safety... should the need arise'

And it's lesser-seen epilogue follow-up: 'between you and me, I've pretended to have a sprained ankle now and again, for a ride on those muscles'

'Don't wear them out entirely, priest. I might have use for them yet'

Further building of sand castles

Climbing Mount Halsin

*Gestures broadly at Shadowheart and Lae'zel's love-hate tension*

A standing invitation for a private audience with Mother Superior Shadowheart, should you ever be in the vicinity of the Cloister

'Kiss me like you hate me'

Tav: 'If in doubt, I can always lie. We've been slaying dragons and making love atop piles of gold'. Shadowheart: 'That sounds fun - why haven't we been doing that? Perhaps I'll shoo the cats out of our room and scatter copper pieces over the bed some evening, and we can play make-believe'

Bite-kissing

A dash of sacrilegious bloodplay