#this one is old and i didn't realized that I never posted it oops

[morebird]

commission 

[minnielynwrites]

Can't Stop (Addicted to this Feeling)

Pairing: Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3041

Summary: You've known the Kim family forever. Seowon, your best friend and roommate. Wonpil, the older responsible one. And Seungmin, the baby.

Seungmin needs a place to stay for college break this summer, and he might not be as much of a baby as you remember...

CW: light dom/sub dynamics, unprotected piv sex (oops, don't do that!), oral sex (m rec.), vag fingering, use of pet names (baby)

Cross-posted on AO3 as old_enough_to_know_better

Your best friend stood up abruptly from the couch you were sharing, movie already on pause. She was on the phone with her older brother, a rare occurrence in and of itself. "He wants to do what ?" You had long given up pretending not to listen to her calls, you were practically part of the family anyways. "No, I know you turned that room into a nursery, but…" She sighed, resigning herself to listen. After a few moments, she answered, "Fine. Tell him it's fine. But he better behave!"

Once Seowon hung up the phone, you cautiously asked, "What did Wonpil want?"

Seowon groaned. "Since he had the twins, Min can't stay with him this summer. He has to stay here. With us."

"In the doom room?" You laughed. That was where everything that you ‘didn't organize, only moved’ went when you got the townhouse. It was otherwise known as the third bedroom. 

She nodded. "We have a week to clean everything up." Now it was your turn to groan. 

You were ready to see Seungmin again. It had been nearly two years since you had seen him, sending him off to college like the big boy that he was. You had ruffled his hair, easy since he only stood an inch or so taller than you, and managed to get a pinch of his cheek before he shrugged you off, telling you he wasn't a little kid anymore. It made you laugh, it always did when he insisted that. He stayed at Wonpil's that summer, and was never there whenever you went to visit. Somehow, you missed him every time. 

This summer, though, you were sure you wouldn't be able to escape his annoying antics. 

His first annoying antic? Showing up. You were going to meet him at the airport, you had cute little signs made and everything. You even dug out a little hat that made you look like a chauffeur. It was perfect. And then Seowon's phone died. By the time she realized it, you had already gathered everything into your old car and were leaning on the couch. Seowon desperately tried to get enough juice into the phone to power it on while you waited. When the doorbell rang, you offered to grab it so Seowon could keep staring at her phone. 

As you opened the door, you went slack for a moment. Seungmin stood before you, with all his luggage, but it wasn't the Seungmin that you last saw. His face had slimmed, his braces were gone, his hair was pushed back off his forehead, and he had shot up about three inches. You barely recognized him. 

"S-seungmo?" You stuttered. 

He grinned crookedly, one small dimple forming at the corner of his mouth. "Hiya, Sprout." He used a nickname that you hadn't heard in years, one that at first only your parents used, then the Kim siblings picked up. You were surprised he remembered. 

Coming to your senses, you stepped aside. "God, come in!" You waved a hand inside. "Do you need help with those? Seowon is having a phone crisis."

He laughed, it sounded different than it used to. "No wonder you didn't know I caught an earlier flight. Nah, I got them." He hefted all of his bags up at once and carried them carefully through the door. You heard Seowon squeal when she caught sight of him. Smiling, you joined the siblings in the living room. 

The next annoying antic? Somewhere in college, he learned manner hands. Whenever he would pass by you, he would hover his hand near you, just barely above your clothes, so close you swore you could feel the heat from his palm. But he never made contact. Whether it was a hand at the small of your back, or on your arm, or shoulder, you felt the phantom presence just as strongly as if he actually touched you. Some days, you just wished he would, just to get rid of that tingling feeling. 

And he was such a homebody! You would think he'd be partying with his friends all summer break, enjoying the ability to buy his own alcohol, relishing in the freedom to do what he wanted. But no, you usually found him on the couch with a book, or watching some serious movie, or on his wilder days, building a model. He had his friends, sure, but he never stayed out too late, and he never brought anyone home. 

When he started making breakfast in the morning, that was when you knew you had lost it. You were sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for the coffee maker to finish brewing, when Seungmin walked into the kitchen, hair damp from the shower, in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Your groggy brain was suddenly hyper-focused on his bare legs, legs that you had seen in shorts so many times before, but never like this. Gone were the toothpick legs of youth, his calves and thighs were lean and well-muscled, with a fine dusting of hair down them. You didn't know how long you stared at them. You only knew that when you looked up, he was watching you. 

He smirked at you for a second, then turned back around to face the stove. The coffee maker alerted you that it had finished brewing your precious caffeine, so you quickly fixed a cup and fled the kitchen. You could feel your face burning, though you weren’t sure why. He was still Seungmin, the boy you had always known. Nothing was different, right?

Seowon left for a business trip about three weeks into the summer. She was only going to be gone for a week, but you made her promise to video call you from the conference. Seungmin rolled his eyes and called you co-dependent. You stuck your tongue out at him as he passed by you.

“Play nice, guys.” Seowon scolded. You laughed and promised, but you noticed that Seungmin stayed quiet before heading into his room. You wondered if he had gotten offended somehow.

You spent 3 days binge-watching a show that Seowon hated. You didn’t see much of Seungmin. On that third night, you were searching for something new to watch when you heard him leave his room. “Hey, wanna watch a movie or something?” You asked over your shoulder.

“Not tonight, I’m going out.” He answered coolly as he headed into the bathroom, but left the door open.

Your mouth twisted. You were sure he was upset with you now, and you weren’t sure why. You turned around on the couch to face him. “Did I do something?” You asked him when the water stopped running.

“Hmm?” He called out from the doorframe of the bathroom.

“Did I upset you? Are you mad at me?”

He laughed. He actually had the audacity to laugh. He finally emerged from the bathroom, and you were struck speechless again. He looked so much more mature than you had ever seen him. He wore a fitted black blazer with a gauzy shirt underneath, you could see skin through it. His pants were tight, hugging just right. His hair was swept back over his forehead, out of his eyes, eyes that were lined lightly, just enough to make them burn holes in you.

“No, I’m not mad, Sprout. Just patient.”

You chose to brush off that comment, even if it made your stomach flip. “Where are you going tonight?”

“Why are you so interested?”

“I was just trying to make conversation!” You turned back around in a huff. “Don’t tell me if you don’t want to.” You folded your arms across your chest. You were definitely not pouting.

“Hyunjin is having a party. I’m making an appearance.” Seungmin knelt in the doorway to tie his shoes. Standing up, he rested his hand on the knob before turning back to you. “I don’t have to go if you don’t want me to.”

“Do whatever you want, I’m not your supervisor.” You were still trying to convince yourself that you weren’t pouting. And you continued trying well after he left.

He had been gone about an hour when you retreated to your room. You were feeling frustrated and pent-up and needed to get out some extra energy. Lying back on your bed, you began thinking about strong hands running up and down your body. It didn’t take long for warmth to pool between your legs, so you closed your eyes and let your hands wander. Starting at the strip of skin exposed by your t-shirt riding up, you slowly began to work your hand under the waistband of your shorts. The hands in your vision were now attached to arms, and shoulders, and as you worked yourself up, a blurry face came into focus…

“Just couldn’t wait, could you, you needy girl.”

You froze, finger on your clit. Your eyes fell on Seungmin leaning against the frame of your now wide open door. You were too stunned to move, far too shocked to say anything. Eventually, your finger twitched, drawing a whimper from you. As if on cue, he pushed off from the frame. Still dressed in the same clothes, his hair slightly tousled, Seungmin was every bit as sensual as the version of him in your head.

“Do you want me to help?” He asked lowly. All you could do was nod. “I need words.”

“Yes.” You whispered. “Please.” 

“Then you need to follow my rules.” Another nod. He tapped your leg lightly. “ Words. ”

“Yes, sir.”

He grinned. “Good, I like that. Rule one, we use colors. Green, yellow, red. Are you familiar with those?” You gave an affirmative. “Rule two, no touching without permission. Rule three, I don’t go past your hard limits. What are they?”

You thought for a moment. “I’m not into weapons, or watersports, or heavy pain play. Anything else is pretty negotiable.”

He nodded, licking his lips. “And kissing?”

“Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please, sir.”

Seungmin groaned, diving in to capture your mouth. “Good girl,” He murmured against your lips. You melted against him, wrapping your arms around his neck to tug at the shorter hairs at the nape. He broke for air, pulling away. “Rule two, Sprout.” He sat up and grabbed your hands, pinning them to the bed on either side of your head. “Be good.”

You relaxed your hands in his hold, whispering, “Yes, sir.” He rejoined your lips, pressing his body down against yours. You could feel his length pressing against you, and you couldn’t help but to grind up into him. You could feel him grin against your mouth, and he tugged your lower lip with his teeth as he pulled away. 

“Now are you going to be a good girl and listen to what I say? Good girls get rewards.”

“Yes, yes, I can be good.” You licked at your lip where his teeth had been, watching as his eyes followed your tongue. He smiled, popping the button on his blazer and shrugging it down his shoulders. He was left in just his gauzy shirt and those sinful pants, sitting over you in your bed. You could faintly make out the outline of his nipples through the shirt, and you found yourself nearly drooling. 

“I want you to take your clothes off and wait for me to be ready.” You eagerly obliged, your shirt and shorts too heavy on your skin. When you were free of them, he looked up from unbuttoning his own shirt and raised an eyebrow. “Are you done?”

“No, sir.” You reached back to unhook your bra, letting your breasts fall free. Only then did he remove his shirt and continue to his pants. Your face flushed as you took in his body. He had always been thin, but the definition that he had gained over the past few years brought a new heat to your core. He may not have had a six-pack, but the lines separating his obliques from his abs stood out starkly, and his arms were corded with lean muscles. You sat up slightly in the bed as he began to push his pants over his hips. The anticipation was killing you.

Seungmin’s legs were strong, you wanted to feel them all over you. And now clad only in short boxer briefs, you wanted even more. “Come help me.” He prompted. You jumped at the ask, sitting up fully and scrambling towards him. Hooking your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, you slowly tugged them over the curve of his ass. As his cock sprung free, you found yourself holding your breath.

It was everything you had never imagined it would be. Long, thick, slightly curved, veiny like his hands, and flushed a gorgeous pink at the tip. You were hypnotized. “Do you want to touch it?” He asked smugly.

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Go ahead, baby. Show me what you can do.”

You reached out tentatively, running a finger from the base to the tip, catching a drop of precum, the only hint of how worked up he was. You circled your hand around him on the way back down, working more precum down his shaft, easing the glide. You felt his cock twitch in your hand. Leaning forward, you stuck your tongue out for a taste. Giving just the tiniest of licks to the slit, Seungmin let out a soft groan. Encouraged, you mouthed at the head, taking more n each time. You ran a flat tongue against the underside of the head, making him grip at your shoulder. Bobbing further down, you let yourself get messier, moaning softly. Seungmin slipped his hand up into your hair, tugging gently. The next time down, he brushed the back of your throat, causing you to gag lightly, but you fought it, kept him in your mouth. He tugged harder on your hair, pulling you off.

“Enough, baby. You make me feel too good.” You pursed your face into a pout, you were having fun. “It’s my turn.” Seungmin pushed against your shoulder, and you leaned back on your heels. He pushed again, and you tipped back onto the pillows. He followed afterwards, kissing down your neck and chest. You moaned, head falling back, and he latched onto one of your nipples. Biting gently, he rolled the other between his long fingers. You squirmed, unable to handle the sensations. 

He continued back up to your neck with his mouth, eventually landing back on your own mouth, while his hands traced the curves of your body. They landed on your hips and he squeezed. He traced down your thighs and back up the insides of them. The closer he got to your sensitive center, the faster your breath came. His hands paused just before the juncture of your legs.

“Beg for it.”

You crumbled. “Please, oh god, please, touch me, I need it. Seungmin, please.” He grinned, finally giving you the sweet sensation that you were looking for, his fingers sweeping through your folds, circling your clit to dip back down and gather more wetness. Over and over he repeated that pattern, before plunging into you with two long fingers, crooking them just so to reach that spongy bundle of nerves. As he hit it on each thrust, you whimpered, "Have I been good enough?”

He slowed his motions, kissing you on the forehead. “You have been so good. And good girls, they get rewards. Do you want my cock?”

You licked your lips, looking up at him. “God, yes, sir.”

“Then take it.” He removed his fingers, lining up the head of his cock at your entrance. Slowly, so slowly, he pressed in. You gasped. Nothing had prepared you for the feeling as he entered you, even though he was not your first. He bottomed out and you breathed together for a moment. At your nod, he began to move. In and out, each thrust filling you so completely. His hands, at first gripping your hips once more with bruising force, eventually moving up to hold your wrists in one large hand. The other hand cupped your face, thumb running over your cheek.

“I’m not going to lie,” He told you, “I’m not going to last.”

“Me either.” You replied. You leaned into his touch. “I’m so close.” He put extra effort into his next thrust, hitting you just right, and you gasped, your release creeping up on you, white edging in on your vision. He must have picked up on it, because he repeated that motion again and again, pushing you over the edge, shattering you into a million pieces. He swiftly followed you, filling you with ropes of hot cum, staying deep inside of you even as he softened.

Finally, he pulled out, your releases combined seeping out onto the sheets. “I’ll be right back.” He said softly. You mumbled a response as he padded naked down the hall to the bathroom. A moment later, he came back with a warm towel and got to work wiping you up. “Go pee, I’ll change your sheets.”

You smacked him lightly on the ass as you got up, and he yelped. You were unsteady on your feet, but made it to your destination fine. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you looked thoroughly fucked out. You felt it, too.

When you got back, there were fresh sheets on the bed, and Seungmin was lying on top of them, still nude. You sat down on the edge of the bed, slightly awkward.

“Don’t freak out about this.” Seungmin said, as if reading your mind. “I’m just really happy you maybe see me how I’ve seen you for ages. I can’t believe you didn’t pick up on my crush.” 

You shoved his shoulder as you leaned back against him. “I thought you got over it!”

Seowon got home three days later. She swept into the living room, where you and Seungmin were watching a movie on the couch.

“You would not believe what happened - Oh my god. You fucked! I leave for a week and all hell breaks loose!”

You weren’t sure how she could tell, but when you looked at Seungmin, you had a feeling it was all going to be okay.

[chronologically-challenged]

The Magnus Archives spoilers but I keep thinking about Jon and Martin landing in the ISAT universe when the fears arrive but like. Right after post loops. So it ends up like:

1) They save these two weirdly accented guys (where one of them clearly has been stabbed holy shit) only to possibly be immediately told that they just got a bunch of evil gods in their world (oops)

2) Jon's eyes absolutely have color when Knowing things or using Eye powers in general.

3) The loops 100% count as a statement and Jon is purposely trying not to be alone with Siffrin so he doesn't munch on their trauma

4) Triple ace solidarity ruined by the knowledge their world is doomed to be plagued by fear gods U.U

5) Martin: "Jon did the fears turn this world black and white" Bonnie:"what's black and white?" Martin: "what" Bonnie: "what" Isabeau: "No but seriously what's black and white." Odile: "I think they're implying that colors exist in their world." Jon: "I see. Colors are apparently unnatural to this world." Martin: "Like that one Lovecraft story?" Jon: "what". Martin: "You know colors beyond our comprehension and what not?" Jon: "I- I suppose??" Bonnie: "Hey! Could this Lovecraft guy be from our world?" Mirabelle: "Wait no. These two just arrived here??? Unless time messed up too???" Jon: "Trust me you do not want to claim him."

6.a) Jon looks at least 10 years if not older than he actually is. He also probably can get along better with Odile anyway. Plus with different universes as backgrounds, the lack of general knowledge around his age wouldn't be obvious. Cue the moment where Jon is asked how old he is and the absolute AWKWARD silence when it's clear that both Jon and Martin are basically Siffrin's age, give or take a few years.

6.b) Bonnie: "Is 30 years old different in your universe? Are you about to die?" Jon: "From embarrassment, perhaps."

7) General discussion/argument/existential dread regarding the Fears and how they interact with this world. Honestly the gang may never forgive Martin and Jon for doing this to them. Even if they do everything they can to help them. They get more sympathy once they find out about the Eyepocalypse and the absolute hell Jon in particular went through. Doesn't mean they have to like it.

8) Siffrin finding out about Jon's knowing powers and asking him if he can Know the name of the island in the North. Jon tries. Then he starts screaming. His eyes are red. Siffrin doesn't ask again.

9.a) The horror and dread knowing that not only is their mission not done. It can't be ever again. And this time, especially if Jon and Martin's story is true... well, the King wasn't easy, but at least he was a person. You can't exactly fight a distorted universe. Their happily ever destroyed forever.

9.b) I could see a physical confrontation happening... if Jon didn't look so absolutely devastated. If he didn't say "do what you will with me, but please leave Martin alone" and Martin yelling at him for being a self-sacrifical idiot. It just sucks so much all around. But it would have been easier if Jon and Martin were bad people. But they're not. Just... broken people doing their best in a broken world. And to do their best to save their own world, the family has to work with them.

9.c) Jon and Siffrin are also idiots with martyr complexes that refuse to talk about their feelings solidarity. Shame that Jon can't help but want to eat Siffrin's trauma cause they probably have a lot to talk about.

10) Funnier note, the slow realization that Jon and Martin in an rpg world. Martin figures it out first and Jon is just. Flabbergasted. Especially when they find out the magic system is rock paper scissors.

11) "rock paper scissors transcends the multi-verse. Neat!" (Later Martin asks Jon if gun is secretly a fourth hand symbol. He does not know and will not Know. He refuses).

12) I think at one point they're gonna have to deal with the fact that statements don't exist in this world. Either Jon gets too close to taking Siffrin's statement or he's going to tell Martin the facts: there is very little way Jon can survive without being a predator. He is an avatar that needs something to fuel his existence. He doesn't want to hurt anyone else ever again. Unless Siffrin wants to write their statement down or someone else does... even then there's no guarantee it's going to be enough.

13) Perhaps wish-craft can save Jon. Maybe. Maybe not. But. The party tells them about wish-craft anyway. It's the one hope they have to fight against this new horror. Maybe it can help Jon too to get out. (Everyone deserves that chance).

I have no fic with this, my fixations are simply crossing over briefly. Hope you enjoyed the ramblings.

[heartofsnark]

A Simple Request For An Unsimple Man (Gale x Fem!Oc Tav)

Author's note: Hello, it's certainly been a minute since I've been able to post fic here without worrying about formatting bullshit (love so much that my longest running fic can't be posted here because it relies on italics/formatting techniques within the first 50ish chapters and tumblr makes that a headache)But, I've found myself sinking a bit into BG3/Gale hell and after some prompting my @shallow-gravy about a comment I left about Gale being able to summon a bed, I decided this might be a fun idea and oops have a thirty page one shot! So, have something featuring my tav- Petra and Gale. Still not sure of what I"m doing with these characters, but hey~

Summary: Petra and Gale are more than a little clumsy in the ways that they love, both having their own significant dry spell when it comes to romance and sexual desires. And while the two have shared themselves within the weave, Petra has made a simple request to share their physical bodies as well. Gale is not good at simple.

Warnings: Unprotected vaginal sex, praise kinks, creampies, cunnilingus (tav/petra in this is a cis female woman), fingering, mutual masturbation, tooth-rotting fluff (turns out I write fluff now), soft!dom Gale, and magical sex mishaps.

Petra's mind has been a maelstrom of worries for quite a while now, however, if someone had told her that amidst tadpoles, cults, and shadow cursed lands that her mind would be consumed with matters of the heart and loins- well, she'd think they were crazy. 

But, perhaps she's the crazy one. 

She never expected to love again, never expected to find someone who felt like home, or makes her heart stutter on every other beat. But she never expected to have a tadpole shoved into her eye or to pull a wizard from a stone- let alone for that very wizard be the one doing this to her. Life is full of surprises, as is her lover. 

Ugh, gods- she has a lover. 

The very thought makes her face burn, her heart pound, and her guts twist. If she didn't know any better she'd think herself ill, but alas- she's learned that's merely Gale's influence on her. The wizard needed no charms or illusions to win her affection, but he warned her early on- well before either of them had realized what was growing between them, that he had a taste for grand gestures. 

And grand they were. 

He conjured her stars and shifting auroras against an ink black night, he showed her his home, his sanctuary without her needing to step a foot into Waterdeep. And he plucked their very souls from their bodies, to kiss and touch and merge within a realm beyond their own. Glittering blue forms, never knowing quite where his touch ended and hers began, surrounded and consumed by him. An electric blur of his touch over her very being. 

She would have been content with a flower and a bowl of his deer stew, but who is she to turn down the adoration fueled gestures of a man she does not deserve. 

Which in part is why she can't help but suspect she might be being just a touch greedy…

Made all the worse by her greed and insecurity tugging her mind back and forth between them like rabid dogs would a slice of steak. 

In some ways she's already done the hardest part, confessing her desire to Gale felt like a herculean task in itself, a stumble of poorly put together words while her face burned hotter than Karlach's engine. But ultimately, she got the message across and Gale as always was far too eager to oblige.

Though, he seems intent to oblige her request in his Gale way of obliging.

Because, you see, her request is incredibly simple. Despite her anxiety and insecurity- she wants to fuck Gale the old fashioned way. She loved the way they bonded before and truly will jump to do it again, but she just can't help but also want the more mundane variety. To feel flesh and bone, to touch his skin, to press her lips against his throat and feel his pulse race beneath her tongue. This of course means he'll also be seeing her naked properly without blue blurry auras smoothing out her every- less excited for that, but her desire for him outweighs her shame for herself. 

And this simple request, frankly- could have been sated nearly the moment it was made in the privacy of his tent. He needed only to roll her onto her back or pull her to straddle his hips, a few garments tossed aside, the dark providing her with some some cloaking while still getting to feel and see him- gods bless darkvision. 

But that would be far too simple, her request instead met with a wide smile a; "Say no more, consider it done, my love," a kiss goodnight, and the looming knowledge that he was planning something. 

So, perhaps surprise is too strong a word when she returns to camp after a brief walk alone to find her companions snickering and Gale's mirror image standing outside his tent. Thin ripples of weave radiating through an otherwise perfect copy of her favorite wizard. She knows it could be perfect, saw him make one perfect before- the imperfections intentional, to let her know it's not him and instead a messenger. 

Petra skirts past her chattering friends, pretending she doesn't feel several sets of eyes following her as she stands before the replication of her dearest. Who merely beams with that bright smile that she's come to adore, even if it's merely a simulacrum of it. 

"Heh, I take it Gale has some plans for us tonight?" She whispers towards the mirror image, trying to keep prying ears from learning too much. Not that her and Gale are secretive about their relationship by any means, but not every one of their friends needs to know when they're having sex. 

"That he does and I have the most wonderous task of taking you to see him, words cannot begin to express how eager he is to see you tonight," the mirror image chirps, not even a hint of shame or volume control as his eyes burn with that same flame of adoration the real Gale always seems to carry- her face flushing beneath its heat.

"Ugh, hells you two are going to make me throw up a perfectly good meal, would you please take your simpering gazes elsewhere," Astarion calls out from around the campfire, a hint of a smile in his words, then his lips when Petra turns to glower at him. 

"I hardly think whatever shadow cursed vermin you've managed to snack on out here counts as a good meal- but rest assured, I am leaving." 

"But of course- after all your little magician is so very eager," he mocks again and if he weren't her friend, she'd kick his arse- still might. 

 "Oh lay off her, Fangs- it's cute, like two pups wagging their tails at each other." 

"I believe nauseating is the word you're looking for," Shadowheart chimes in, "I mean really, not a drop of shame between the two, every time he leaves behind one of those mirror images- he might as well just declare that they're about to go rut around in the woods all night." 

"Date nights are perfectly healthy for a newly bonded couple-"

"Dates- is that what you think they're doing out there? In the middle of nowhere, alone- you think they're, what, chatting about their favorite books over a glass of wine?" Astarion cuts Wyll off, incredulous that he would refer to Petra and Gale's outings as a date. 

"I mean, wouldn't really be all that shocked if they were- it is Gale, after all…" 

"Regardless, I think seeing our friends form such a union is something to be celebrated not mocked." 

"Their carnal desires are hardly any of our concern, so long as they remain vigilant in battle- however, I must say I do find it curious that the wizard always seeks to be hunted, he might as well submit outright if he cannot best her in combat." 

"Oh, I'm sure he does plenty of submitting." 

"I don't know 'bout that, Petra may be bossier but look at the poor thing- redder than a devil's arsehole, probably turns into a mess the moment clothes start comin' off." 

Petra grasps the mirror image's arm, her face burning hot and no doubt just as red as Karlach said. She hisses between gritted teeth;  "Get me the fuck out of here." 

"Your wish is my command, now- let us find more pleasant company," he assures her, quickly walking her away from the camp as their friends speculate about their sex life. 

"And by that, you mean yourself," she teases, leaning against the mirror image's arm. The conjured form isn't a perfect match, both from the rippling static like eminence of weave and it being a little less shameful than her Gale. But it carries his warmth, his smell- like the innards of an old library, cozy and welcoming. 

"Would you have it any other way?" 

"Gods no," she admits, burrowing her face into his arm, hiding her flushed cheeks from his view. 

"Careful now, I'd hate to be jealous of myself," Gale's voice rings out, more alive, more human and not right beside her- her head shoots up, the sky is bathed in shifting colors and twinkling lights. Her Gale just a short walk away; "Though I can hardly blame you, he is quite handsome." 

And that’s all she needs, letting go of the mirror image, the half-elf rushes towards him- the real him, a small laugh escaping Gale’s lips as she throws her arms around him. As nice as the fake one is, it will never feel as good as touching the real thing. His heat seeping in between their clothes, warming her skin- that must of old books and lavender offset slightly by the salt of his sweat. His large hands holding her in kind, one settling on the small of her back and the other stroking through her hair. She takes a deep breath, a heavy inhale and exhale of him, before finally lifting her head ever so slightly- enough to look up at him,

The way he looks at her could melt all of Frostfell. Those soft brown eyes looking at her like she’s hung the stars and moon, all the while he’s the one who’s conjured the sky above them. 

“A good evening to you too,” he greets, smiling so sweetly and she stands up on her tiptoes- Gale meeting her need as she presses a kiss to that very smile. The warm press of his mouth against hers sending heat and butterflies through her very veins, she breaks back before she can get carried away. Not wanting to ruin his plans, but struggling to stifle the desire to kiss him until her lungs ache. 

“Good evening,” she hums back instead, squeezing him tighter, her eyes looking around the wide field bathed in the glow of soft purples and blues. It’s largely familiar, the same space and view he created the night he brought their very souls together- when he confessed his fear, his love, and so much more. Where she pleaded for him to stay, for him to live. 

Though with one very new addition to the expanse of field- an extraordinarily out of place bed. Lavish and lush with deep indigo blankets, bathed in the glow of the sky and the burning of a torch mounted in the ground beside it- the addition betraying the reason they’re here tonight. 

“You know what I can’t help but notice?” Petra remarks after a beat of silence, a quiet moment of simply sinking into one another’s hold- blinking up at her wizard. 

“My dashing good looks?”He asks, a small smile and a raise of his brow. 

“Mm, yes, but no more than usual,” she plays along, smiling against him. Knotting her fingers in the plush purple of his tunic,debating on if she should slip her hands beneath the fabric- wanting to feel more of his skin. 

“My brilliant mind and ever expanding intellect?” 

“Well, that just goes without saying,” she assures him, heaping on the praise for him. 

“Hmm, than it must be my veritable wealth of charm and wit.” 

“Close and before you ask- no, it’s not your modesty either,” she teases, scratching her nails over his back through his shirt- trying to sate her ache to touch him, “What I can’t help but notice is that whenever you pull me away for a night via your mirror image- it seems to mean I’m the one left dealing with the whispers of our companions.” 

He grimaces slightly, somewhat between amusement and annoyance; “Ah, yes, a… much unfortunate consequence, but one we simply can’t avoid, I’m afraid.” 

“Oh, is that so?” She teases, laughing through her smile, “Funny how that unavoidable consequence seems to benefit you.” 

“Life is full of those funny little mysteries, I think it wise to embrace- not question, these curiosities.” 

“Thats quite a fancy way of saying you intend to keep throwing me to the wolves,” she chirps, pulling a hand back to slap him playfully in the ribs, he merely laughs because he knows exactly what he’s doing; “Do you know that right now, at this very moment- our friends gossiping like hens about which one us… takes the lead?” 

“Ah, yes, I’m… terribly sorry to have missed that conversation.” 

“And yet, I suspect you’re not sorry at all,” she comments, reaching upward she strokes through his hair-  tracing a streak of gray that curls around his ear, soft brown strands slipping between her fingers. He’s so lucky he’s so damned adorable. 

“Oh, but I am- absolutely contrite that I could not steal you away before their sordid chatter reached your ears- after all, I’m no more keen on our proclivities being the subject of discussion than you are,” he admits and she hums, a small smirk on her lips as he continues on, trying to insist he definitely feels bad about leaving the gossipy shit for her to handle. 

“Perhaps not, but you do seem keen on leaving me to handle it.” She points out again, cradling his jaw- his beard scratching her palm as she rubs her thumb along his cheekbone. Petra often wonders if he minds the callouses that cling to her skin. Her flesh so much rougher than his, he leans into her touch, presses his jaw to her hand. 

“And my apologies are most sincere, however if you still find yourself unconvinced- perhaps I can show you the depth of my remorse?” He asks, pressing his forehead to hers, lips a breath away, “You need only ask, demand any penance you deem fit-  and I will gladly pay it.” 

“Is that so?” 

“There is no sin against you, no matter size or severity,  that I would not repent for.” 

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t mind a kiss,” she admits, the only thought on her mind when his face is so close to hers- when his lips are just a breath away. When one tilt of her head, one jolt would crash their lips together. 

“Hmm, I think you may not have a full understanding of what penance means, my dear, typically-” 

“Gale,” she says, looking up at him with the sternest eyes she can manage- no doubt stopping him from prattling off the definition of penance. Because she’s in love with a sentient thesaurus. 

“Yes.” 

“You have until the count of three to kiss me and if you don’t- I’m going to bite you,” she threatens, not sure how much she wants him to listen- she does like biting him, “One-” 

“Thinking over my options,” he chimes, sing songy as he seems equally unsure of which choice he likes more. 

“Two.” 

“I do rather like your love bites, but your kisses are quite enchanting as well.” 

“Thr-” 

His lips press to hers, deeper than before. One of her hands twists in his tunic, the other in the his hair. He cradles her jaw and lower back, pulling each other closer, she can’t help the small sigh of happiness and bliss as his tongue pushes into her mouth. The faintest taste of his cooking still on his tongue, a hint of mint where he tried to clear it out-  maybe she should have been so kind. 

Their kisses are still clumsy, a slightly awkward press and swirl of tongues, both single and isolated for a year or more. But it feels like warmth and love and home in a way she can’t define, heat simmering between her thighs when the hand on her back moves lower. A broad palm playfully squeezing at her ass, tugging her closer, the grope of his fingers sinking into the plush of her flesh- a soft moan echoing from her throat, muffled by his tongue. 

They break apart, breathing ragged- hot puffs of air across each other’s lips. She can feel the heat clinging to the apples of her cheeks, mirrored in the flush that creeps beneath Gale’s beard. Petra grins up at his beautiful red face, the brown of his eyes nearly swallowed by the black of his pupil. 

“Three,” she whispers, catching his lower lip between her teeth and nipping playfully at the kiss swollen flesh. Gale groans, deep and throaty, sending molten heat right to her cunt. His lips pulls out from between her teeth as he pulls her into a desperate hungered kiss. 

It’s deeper than the last, even more ravenous and rough, both of his hands now groping at her backside- kneading at her flesh, feeling his fingers sinking into the plush of her flesh through her clothing. Wishing his hands were beneath her clothes, on her skin, pressing into her properly. 

She tugs at his hair, scratches her nails along his scalp as he kisses her deeper and deeper, her lungs burning by the time she feels the back of her thighs bumping something soft. Breaking off the kiss to see she’s somehow been staggered back to the bed. It’s plush blankets and rows of pillows beckoning her. She can’t help but giggle. 

“Couldn’t settle for a dirty bedroll, could you?” She teases, stealing another soft kiss. 

“The least I could do for your comfort, time spent together in the flesh should be no less beautiful than that spent in the celestial- whatever way you’ll have me, I wish only to make it perfect for you.”

“Then… wish no more,” she murmurs, voice soft as she avoids the intensity of his gaze, the adoration that consumes his words and expression, “You’re here with me, I could not imagine anything more perfect than that.” 

“Careful now, keep talking that way-  you may never be rid of me,” he tries to joke, to tease- but when she forces herself to look back up at him, she can see the flush of his cheeks deepening as his smile widens. 

And with everything that still hangs in the air- Mystra’s unreasonable request, the knowledge that a part of him still doesn’t feel certain of whether he’ll see the end of this journey. The fact he may still make that choice, that he very well still might leave her in some desperate attempt to save the world. She throws her arms tight around his neck, latches her nails into his skin as she tugs him closer, closer. His nose bumping her own, his forehead back flush against hers. 

“I truly hope that I could be so lucky,” she rushes out, reiterating her wish- her plead again. That he’ll stay here with her, that she will never be rid of him- that on the other side of this whole ordeal is a future where his story stays enmeshed with her own. That she’ll not have to lose another love, not sure her heart could stand it. 

Then it’s another clash of lips, tongue, and teeth- not even sure who started this one, both desperate to get their mouths on each other. And for a moment, she feels herself lifted, feet off the air- she giggles into his kiss before the world shifts every so slightly, her back thumping down onto the soft blankets. Her weight sinking into the plush of the mattress, Gale smiling at her lowers a knee to the bed and climbs up, settling above her. 

Adoration, the word comes to mind over and over again whenever he looks at her. Brown eyes soft and clear with nothing but that emotion, letting it sink in through her skin and into her bones, consuming her wholly. She never thought she loved brown eyes so much, disliking her own for so long- but on him they’re so beautiful. Warm and filled with more love than she’s could ever hope to deserve. 

She cups his face and pulls him down for another kiss, never satisfied. He said before that moment with her could sate him for a lifetime and while the sentiment still rattles her to her very soul- she can’t say she relates, feeling as if she could have a million with him and still beg for one more, for another, another, another. Not enough time in the universe for how much she wishes to spend with him. 

Her hands tug at his tunic, reaching one beneath- no longer able to suppress the desperate need to just touch him. To feel his skin beneath her fingers, warm flesh and coarse body hair, the soft skin of his stomach. A layer of plush with a hint of firmer muscle beneath, when she presses a little harder. Their lips part again as Gale leans back onto his knees, which sink into the bed on either side of her hips. 

She skims her hands down his hips and thighs as Gale grips at his shirt, tugging it off- carefully putting it aside. Petra’s eyes roaming the open exposed flesh of his chest and stomach. The celestial version of him gorgeous, but not truly doing him justice. Smooth glowing blue aura not showing the dark body hair that scatters across his chest, trailing down his stomach and leading to below his waistband. The occasional freckle and even rarer scar that decorate his skin. 

Even the mark on his chest, the symbol where the orb took root in his chest. Bruised in the middle, tendrils sweeping out from it- the ones that curl up the left side of his throat growing fainter as they stretch out to vanish beneath his beard- connected faintly to the prominent veins that ghost below his eye. She hates what that thing has done to him, how it’s hurt him- how it’s not being used as a threat against his very life, but even that she finds beautiful on his flesh. The mark of his mistakes, of his devotion to one who never deserved it, proof of him as a man who sought love in worship. His folly is as much a part of the man she loves as every virtue he carries in kind.

“Fuck,” she curses, all the words she can utter as she gazes at him. Admiring every inch of his body that’s been revealed to her. Realizing she’s rarely seen him shirtless, not counting the celestial plane and a few brief, awkward mistakes while navigating river baths in the early days of their travel. How odd that they’ve been so deeply intimate, yet she can’t say she’s seen him fully naked. 

Which means he has yet to see her fully naked as well- which scares her even more than the tadpole gnawing at the inside of her skull. 

“If you ever sought to deflate my ego, I must say- you’re doing a terrible job at it,” he teases, a brilliant grin on his face as her own burns with heat. 

"As if I'd ever embark on a such a fool's errand," she taunts, skimming her hands upward and feeling the heat of his skin. Raking her nails along his lower stomach, feeling the muscles tense beneath her hand, biting her tongue to not make any comments about belly rubs. 

"Hmm, given your…tendencies, forgive me if I remain unconvinced." 

She lets out a breath of a laugh- "You know, you're astoundingly disagreeable, for a man attempting to bed me." 

"Not to add to the matter, but I do believe we've past the point of 'attempting.'"

"I swear to the gods, I'm gonna learn magic just so I can cast silence on you one of these days," she threatens, pinching playfully at his flesh. 

"And I'd be honored to teach you, but for now- I hope finding other uses for my mouth will suffice," he offers, dipping down to kiss her again, bracing one hand to the pillows by her head- the other cupping her jaw. His thumb brushing along her cheekbone, a soft sigh muffled by his tongue pushing into her mouth. Her hands roam his torso, unable to settle fully on which part of him she wants to touch- his stomach, chest, sides, back, and shoulders all feeling so perfect beneath her fingers. 

His warm wide palm brushes down her jaw to her neck, heat and sparks rising to her skin wherever his fingers touch. Unable to help the way she squirms beneath his mouth and hands, the soft noises she whimpers into his kiss, against his tongue as her own presses into his mouth in kind. Burning heat aches between her thighs, barely touched but even the faintest of his kisses or the briefest brush of his fingers pulls desperation from her very soul. Pathetic in her need for him, 

Gale's hand leaves her skin for a moment, already cold without his touch, she drags her nails along his shoulder blades- tries to pull him down closer. Then his hand finds her ribs, presses against her side molten warm on her chilled skin. Caught between relishing in the brush of his fingers and the way her insecurities make her body go rigid. Her hope that he may not notice dashed the moment their kiss breaks apart, ragged breath and flushed face not betraying the concern that knits his brows- the worry carved into every line of his face. 

"Is everything alright?" He asks, voice lower and rougher, lips swollen and wet- strands of hair beginning to fall and stick against the sweat that beads along his forehead. 

"Yeah, yes, of course," she insists, her own voice rougher than she expects as she tries to cram down the bubble of anxiety in her ches- desperate not to ruin her or Gale's night. 

"Petra, I would never claim you to be an open book, but you are one that I feel most adept at reading- though, I could still clearly still use some slight guidance and for that I'll need your words. Tell me what is wrong, so I may make it right, please," he tries again, with more words and more conviction- his hand lifting to brush her hair behind her ear, his thumb dragging along the sensitive point. A little chill curls along her spine in response. 

"It's nothing, really," she murmurs, smoothing her palm along his neck- tracing along the tendrils of blacked raised flesh that curls from the orb. Wondering again, if the callouses and scars of her hands bother him. 

His hands are softer than hers, more versed in flipping book pages and casting spells than hunting or stealing. He's mentioned spas and bathhouses in Waterdeep, and she wonders what balms or lotions he'd be using were their supplies not so limited. He's not without his scars, she knows- but even the raised flesh feels softer on his body than hers. Subtle faded burns from cooking and casting mishaps alike, a raised crease on his forehead from summoning a toy he wanted as a child- only to have the wooden train set appear and thunk down atop his head. 

Her scars and memories aren't so kind. No stories as sweet or kind. No fuzzy nostalgia for raised lashmarks on her back or thighs. No warm feelings about the scar across her lip, the only thing her mother deemed fit to let her keep, the same scar Gale must feel every time they kiss. 

Gale has suffered truly and she would never suggest otherwise, she'd sooner fist fight Mystra than deny the pain he's endured, the pain he is still enduring. However, when he hears him talk of his childhood, his mother, Tara, his education- she can't help but feel like a tragedy in comparison. A pitiful thing next to him. Nowhere near worthy of his adoration, his efforts, his love… 

"If it weighs on your mind, then it is not nothing." 

"Okay, so… it's nothing, but it is silly," she tells him, scratching her thumbnail through his beard, hoping to distract him. 

"Then if it is so silly and inconsequential, there will be no harm in telling me, will there?" He says, her nose wrinkling, he's so stubborn, "My aim is not to push you into telling me anything, but what kind of man would I be to notice your discomfort and continue on as if I hadn't?"

"Okay, okay- if you must make sense," she huffs and pouts, chews on her lip and avoids his gaze as she turns her head to the side, "I just am a little…insecure. Without the weave smoothing out my scars, blurring my freckles, and softening me- well, it helped make me someone worth touching." 

Her admission hangs in the air for a moment, her chest rigid with tension and swollen with a bubble of anxiety. He must think she's exhausting, asking this of him then getting so worked up over it. Her desire for him outweighing but not fully dealing away with her own insecurities. Truthfully, she'd have been content to strip Gale down,kiss and touch him to her heart's content- while never letting his hands graze her. But, he always has a way of taking the lead when it comes to these things. A fact that can never make its way back to camp. 

A soft kiss presses to the side of her lips, where that scar cuts jaggedly through them. Another against her jaw, her forehead, her cheeks as warm welcoming hands cup her face.

"Look at me, my love." He brings her gaze to his. Her heart lurches up into her throat, skin burning beneath the intensity of Gale's expression. "There is no plane or realm or state of being in which you are anything less than a person worth touching. You are my hope and my light- and no matter how or where you are presented to me, you will always be the most beautiful thing I have set my eyes on. The stars, the moon, the sun, the very heavens themselves- you put them all to shame…" 

She feels like she's been set ablaze. Her face nearly glowing with its heat, eyes wet, and the chill of the night a distant memory as his words burn through her very being. And he means them, gods help her- he means them. Able to hear and feel the conviction in every syllable, see his earnestness in the lines of his expression, in the spark alight in his eyes. And she will never know what she did to deserve him and she will always fear that she may lose him, but she is so happy to have him, 

"Ugh, gods, fuck- Gale," she curses, stuttering on her words because she has nowhere near his grasp on the English language, "I don't really know how the hells I'm supposed to argue with that." 

"So don't," he says, the request surprising in its brevity. His lips press to the corner of her eye, Petra realizing a moment too late that tears had started to streak down her face. 

He kisses down the path of her tears, her jaw, her neck craning to the side as he buries his face against her throat. Feverish and heavy kisses across her skin, her arms wrap tight around his back- digging her nails into his shoulder blades as he bites tenderly at her skin, laving his tongue across the sting he left behind. She groans as he sucks harshly, nips at her pulse point, and she can't help but squeeze her thighs together- trying to get a bit of relief, everything he does just making her needier. 

She curls her hand into his hair, twisting the silver streaked strands around her fingers as Gale kisses along her collarbone. Careful as his teeth graze where the skin stretches thinner over bone, the briefest edge of pain soothed over by the lap of his tongue. She moves the hand not tugging at his hair down his chest, skimming down his stomach, and finally presses her open palm to his groin- feeling his cock hardening in his pants, the heat of him through the fabric. A rough, nearly pained groan echoes against her collarbone. His forehead suddenly pressed to her shoulder, twitching beneath her touch.

“Too much?” She whispers against his ear, worried she may have pushed too far too soon. Far too aware despite her eagerness that neither of them have had physical sex in  a year or more- probably more, considering his time with Mystra. 

“No such thing with you,” he says through a raspy breath, his lips catching hers again as his hands brush up her sides- warm open palms stroking up the taunt freckled skin of her stomach. Stoking a fire that burns inside of her, heat rising to the very surface of her flesh as grinds her palm against him. Desperate to give him even a hint of the same heat burning in her. 

His movements halt as his fingers brush the edge of her cropped nightshirt, kiss breaking as his eyes meet hers, a surprisingly silent request from her wizard. Reluctantly, she pulls her hands from his hair and cock, Gale provides her the space as she sits up to hook her fingers beneath the edges of her shirt and tug it up off over her head. Petra tosses it aside, shaking out her hair and trying not to overthink being naked from the waist up. 

Every fiber of her being screams that she should cover her chest, having gained some weight since traveling with Gale- his cooking having put a few pounds on her, but sadly none of those managed to reach her tits. Small and fuller at the bottom than the top, freckled like damn near every other inch of her. 

But as always, there is nothing sheer adoration in Gale’s eyes and with a little press of his palm on her sternum her back is hitting the sheets again. The blankets and pillows all the softer on her bare skin, sinking down into the blush of it. Warmth of the sheets and his hand a contrast to the chill of the open air that’s snuck back in, her nipples stiffening as a breeze taunts her. 

Her legs spread for him as he moves closer, allowing him to slot himself between her thighs- a gasp on her tongue when his cock brushes against her core. Cloth grinding against her wet clit, feeling the outline of him against her. She groans and tries to wrap her legs around his hips, only for his hand to find her thigh- a steady palm pressing it back against the mattress. And his other hand finds hers, his large warm palm eclipsing hers, fingers intertwining with her own- as he presses another quick kiss to her lips, the next to her collarbones, another to the top of her breasts, then the heat of his mouth is around her nipple. 

“Fuck,” she curses, a hiss of breath as pleasure sparks across her skin- Gale sucks harshly at her chest, teasing her nipple with his tongue, just the hint of his teeth on the fullest part of her breast, and the scratch of his beard on her skin. 

She whines and whimpers, fingers knotting in his hair- his hands on her hand and thigh keeping her pinned beneath his weight, only able to arch and squirm against his mouth. Her hips try to writhe on instinct, trying to find friction against her core, trying to refind it. But he presses a little harder on her thigh, keeping his full weight off her, too much empty space between them for her to be sated. A frustrated whine in her throat as he pulls off her breast with a soft wet sound, not offering her any relief to her core or even acknowledgement of his torture, only a small hungry groan as he takes her other breast into his mouth. 

The air feels even colder on her spit slick chest, nipple swollen and redder, a scratch of flushed beard burn left behind. Sharp contract making her squirm all the more as he makes the other match. Her sounds pathetic and needy, as he teases her sensitive chest. Every swipe of his tongue, brush of his teeth, scratch of his beard, and hungry reverberating groan against her skin sends a pulse of pleasure between her thighs. 

“Gale,please,” she keens, not even sure what she’s begging for, more or less- if she’s squirming to press herself tighter to his face or trying to escape the laving of his tongue on her body. But she can only whine when her cry is met with a groan that echoes against her, reverberates in her bones, seeps through her veins, and settles in the wet heat between her thighs. 

His lips pull away from her chest, the hand that had been pressed into hers slips away- palm stroking down her forearm, along her collarbones as Gale’s mouth moves lower. Soft kisses beneath the curve of her breast, down the middle of her stomach, his thumb brushing over her nipple- his fingers nearly chasing after his mouth as he moves down her body. Lips kissing over her belly button as he squeezes at her breast, the sink of his hands into the squish of her chest, large warm hand groping and teasing while he works his mouth even lower. 

“Gale,” she whines again, as he presses her thigh tighter to the bed, his beard scratching just at the waistband of her pants. His hand skims down from her breast, fingers pressing soft divots into her hip. Then hook into her waist band, her thigh released finally as he mirrors the gesture of his other.His deep brown eyes looking up as her. 

“May-” 

“Please,” she cuts him off, hissing her consent, the ragged sound of his voice only making her desparate for more of him. He smiles, far too sweet for a man about to strip her naked- another soft kiss beneath her navel and then he’s tugging her clothes down. 

She does her best to make it easy for him, lifting her hips as he rolls the fabric down them, moving her legs as needed when he finally yanks the clothes from her body. Her dearest magician having made sure to grab her underwear with them as well. Petra laid completely bare before him, The air just as cold on the slick  heat of her cunt as it’s been to her split slick breasts. A chill curling along her spine, reminding her that despite the plush mattress and the soft downy blankets hugging her skin, they’re unmistakably outside. Conjured bed in the midst of the field, twinkling stars and kaleidoscopes of colors still dancing over head- bathing her blush touched skin in their glow. 

Petra presses a hand to her mouth, trying halfway to hide her crimson face as her other hand hovers to hide her cunt. She can’t imagine the sight she must make- red faced, tangled hair against the pillow, throat mottled by his teeth, chest marked with saliva, the red scratch of beard burn lingering along her flesh and slick clinging to the meat of her thighs. The mess his mouth has made of her on full display. 

His fingers are warm and reverant when they wrap around her wrist, plucking her hand from where it covers her cunt- exposing her even further as he presses a kiss to her palm. 

“None of that, my love,” he whispers against her skin. Her nose wrinkles, heat still burning through her face- no words find her, so she pulls her hand from her mouth and sticks her tongue out at him. Feeling his smile against her palm, a soft nip of teeth against her wrist. 

His hand falls away from her wrist, Petra scratches her nails through his beard before allowing her own to drop. A gasp catching in her throat when the broad warmth of his palms presses against both of her thighs. Her knees bending as she allows him to spread her further apart, even more exposed- even more on display than she felt before. His deep brown eyes reverent and nearly eclipsed by his pupils as he looks down at her slick cunt- Petra squirms against the sheets and the press of his hands. 

“Gods,” he breathes out, her heart stuttering in her chest, “I could study for ages, read every tome and scroll in all of Faerun and still never be able to conjure a more beautiful sight than you.” 

“Gale…” She whines, burying her face in her hands- burning beneath his gaze and words, how can he say these things without a singular fucking drop of shame? And how can he mean every single word of it?

“I’m right here, love,” he answers, pressing his face into her inner thigh- soft lips and the scratch of his beard, her breathing hitches as he kisses her flesh. Another moving further inward, along her skin. His tongue licking the slick that clings to her, his teeth nipping bruises into her thigh. 

She squirms and writhes, anticipation coiling tight inside of her, only one goal with the direction of his kisses. Every lick and bite jolting phantom pleasure to her cunt, insides clenching and aching for something more direct, to feel that scratch of his beard and the lave of his tongue where she needs it most. No matter how embarassing the idea is. Need outweighing shame. 

And as he moves further between her thighs, he lowers himself down, closer and closer- the skin feeling all the more sensitive as he nears her cunt. His hands and arms shifting, pushing beneath her thighs- a warm support of flesh and bone, his palms settling on her hips, before pressing down. His steady hold preventing her squirming, pinning her in place as he sucks a harsh mark into her skin. 

“Please, Gale,” she whimpers, twisting both her hands into his hair, trying to squirm her hips to no avail. 

“You have not an ounce of patience, do you?” He murmurs against her thigh, blunt edges of his teeth nipping at her flesh. 

“Absolutely fucking not, not with you,” she whines, words burbling out, “I need you, please.” 

A smile pressed into her skin and she can see it in her mind, even if she can’t through her thigh- she bites her tongue, waiting for his words to spill forth again. Waits for more waiting. Waits for another three part sentence and enough verbiage to put a dictionary to shame, all needed before he may finally put his fucking mouth on her. 

The brush of breath on her wet cunt, his head shifting between her thighs- beneath her fingers and the heavy lave of his tongue through her center. Pleasure shockwaves through her, a half stuttered curse on her lips as her hips jolt and her fingers dig into his scalp. His hands press down harsher on her hips, mattress and blankets denting beneath her, keeping her still as the heat of his mouth consumes her every thought and feeling. 

A practised tongue works her over, laving through her slit, dipping inside of her and lapping at the slick that rushes out of her. Each swipe of his tongue only drawing more from her, making her cunt clench around his tongue, feeling herself soak the scratch of his beard. A hungry groan against her, reverberating and twisting the coil inside of her tighter, sounding like a man starved- her insides burn, her hips try to writhe, to find even more friction as his tongue traces every inch of her. 

Groans and wet noises against her, echoing and hanging in the open air, mingling with the nonsense of whines and pleads that she can’t seem to stop. Body and voice hardly her own as she's taken apart by every hungry lick into her cunt, pleasure burning hotter and coil dragging tighter. 

A bump of his nose against her swollen clit and she's thrown over the edge, embarrassingly easy, a thunder of pleasure through her veins- coil snapping and body on fire as it consumes her very being. Only distantly aware that she's thrashing, gasping, and pressing down harsher on Gale's skull as her body jolts. Pleasure ravages her, his tongue and lips toying with her clit all the while, Gale burying his face into her as he pushes her end further and further, harsh sucks on her swollen flesh, pushing her back into ecstasy's grip anytime it threatens to let her go. 

Not so much as cumming again, but Gale refusing to let her stop. Drawing her pleasure out, the faintest sign of it waning met with a firm nearly painful swipe of his tongue or suck against her clit, tracing patterns against it that her blanking mind can’t make sense of- only able to call his name and thrash beneath him, as pleasure edges to near pain. 

And finally, he pulls away from her, orgasm crashing down and away to faint tremors versus an active quake. Her throat raw and aching from the noises he pulled from her, cunt throbbing and clenching at the sudden relief and gut wrenching absence- both somehow existing at once. Both missing his mouth and happy to be afforded the chance to come down from her high. 

Her breaths are ragged and raw, coming back to her body. Shame aching painfully in her chest, needling at her hammering heart. The first physical bodily orgasm wrung from her by another’s hand in two years. Brought to her end by the stray bump against her clit. Her celestial form not only prettier, but able to endure far more- it seems. 

And that shame only grows as the world fully returns to her, realizing just how tight her hands are wrenched in his hair- how harshly she’s pressing against his skull. His breath ragged and hot against her wet thigh, slick with sweat and more. And she can hear how out of breath he is, how she nearly stole the very air from his lungs- nearly drowned him in her. 

“So-sorry,” she whispers, letting him go and hiding behind her hands, hating how desperate and ragged her voice is, “I uh, shit- didn’t mean to- I could’ve suffocated you, I’m so sorry, fuck-” 

For all her begging him to live, to stay- she nearly killed him with her fucking vagina. Because of fucking course that’s something she’d do. A pathetic excuse for a person, a lover, and just an existing thing. 

A huff of breath from him, hot on her already burning skin- it’s light and bubbles into a small laugh, another kiss to her thigh. The bed shifts beneath her, his arms and hands pulling away- Petra dares to peek between her fingers. Gale moves over her- his cheeks ruddy with exertion, his hair sweaty and mussed, beard and lips wet with slick. His grin only wider, more boyish when he meets her eyes through the gaps of her fingers- his own wrapping around her wrists.

Delicately, he prises her hands from her face. 

“I can think of no better death, than one between your thighs.”

She snorts, a breathless laugh,; “Oh yeah, sure, and I’d be the one stuck explaining your naked corpse to K'ha'ssji'trach'ash.” 

“He may appreciate the chuckle, but do remember the ‘chhh’ sound, comes from the back-”

“I know,” she retorts bluntly, her wizard only laughing in response. She can still remember how her nerves rattled the first time she was tasked with saving Gale’s life. Not evening knowing at the time just how much more precious that life would become to her. Terrified of saying a single wrong syllable of the mephit’s name, moving the thread to the wrong side, or hiting a wrong note on that stupid fucking flute. 

Keeping him alive will be the death of her, but as he settles slightly next to her- arms curling beneath and around her- her cunt still throbbing with her drawn out orgasm, his body warm, and his open palm cupping her jaw… She can hardly say she’ll mind. 

“I must say, I do feel assured knowing you’d bring me back again.” 

“Of course, as many times as it takes,” she admits, her next breath swallowed by his lips. His tongue heavy with the taste of her, his kiss and beard wet with her slick, a muffled groan in her throat at the very thought. 

She chases to deepen the kiss as much as she can, pressing into his chest- resting her hand over his forearm. Her tongue pushes deeper into his mouth, her insides aching again, even with the throb of near pain between her thighs from her overstimulation. The soft wet sound of their kisses, her own sigh muffled between their mouths as his mouth starts to taste less like her and more like him. 

His forearm flexes beneath her fingers, his palm leaving her jaw, the other hand still holding her close and brushing her ribs. Before she can break the kiss or see where his other hand is traversing, she feels his fingers on her lower stomach and skimming down her body. 

“Gale,” she whispers against his lips, thighs squeezing together- his fingers already teasing along her mound, scratching through the sparse patch of dark hair above her cunt. He hums against her cheek, pressing a kiss to her jaw- “I can’t… again.” 

Her words are stuttered and breathy, not at all convincing- she’s still thrumming after her last orgasm, cunt still aching and sensitive, every cell of her being an exposed livewire he seems intent to keep playing with. 

“You can’t… do what exactly?”He asks, voice edged with teasing as he bites at her jawline. Her thighs draw tighter together as his finger start to push between them. Whining as he kisses at her neck and she can already feel that coil starting to twist again. 

“Can’t- cum again, too, mm… too soon, let me touch you instead,” she manages through the kisses and bites against her throat. Petra starts to move her hand that’s been placed in the narrow space between their bodies, groping downward- frustrated with the fabric still clinging to his lower half. 

“There’s never too soon enough time to touch you,” he whispers against her throat. 

“Gale, please,” she gasps, feeling him groan against her as her palm cups him through his pants- hard within his clothes, twitching beneath her touch. 

“Spread your legs for me, dear,” he requests and she knows she’ll fall apart so quick, that the pleasure may ache into pain, but she needs him, the promise of his fingers too much. Petra clumsily obeying, spreading her legs;  “There we are, so good for me.” 

The words go start to her cunt, followed shortly by his fingers- the faintest brush over her swollen clit. She gasps, his name on her lips as she tries not to lose focus on where her own hand is, squeezing at his hard-on, trying to offer him some fraction of the pleasure he’s so persistent on pouring into her. A strained groan against her neck as his fingers start to swirl around her clit, a wet slide and building friction, already painfully close. 

“Fuck, Gale,” she hisses, haphazardly trying to yank at the laces of his pants- cursing herself that she can pick the strongest locks in Faerun but can’t yank open her lover’s fucking pants between the odd angle, not being able to properly see what she’s doing, the mouth at her pulse point, and the finger slowly pressing into her. 

“You already feel so perfect around me,” he speaks against her neck as a single thick warm finger pushes into her, opening her up, curling into her- her cunt clenching around him, her head thumping back against the pillows as she gasps. Soul sex aside, it’s the thickest thing she’s had in her in years, her own thin nimble fingers not comparing to his broad palms and long thick fingers. 

“Please, please, Gale,” she breathes, not sure if she’s asking for more fingers or for help undoing his pants. Maybe both. 

She gets a kiss beneath her ear, another finger pushing into her- slow and methodical in his pace. Not seeking to push her into immediate orgasm again, but to stretch her further apart, to see how deep he can fill her with the twist of his fingers. That pleasure building, aching inside of her as his lips kiss up her ear. Small wet presses that sends little chills as he nears the pointed tips of her ears. Feeling herself coating his fingers in wet, slick and accepting as the press of his thick solid fingers. 

“You’re so beautiful, you’re taking my fingers so well,” he murmurs before kissing right at the point of her ear, nipping the sensitive skin and she jolts- face hot with pleasure and shame at how easy she is to take apart. 

Then he starts to pump his fingers, no longer idly stretching and curling, finding a rhythm as he rocks them in and out of her cunt. A desperate cry on her lips, fingers dragging in and out of her slick heat- toying and curling in to press at her nerves, only to pull back and push back in. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cries, not able to come up with any other word- even when the laces of his pants finally come undone with her frantic tugging. Biting her lip and groaning when she can finally- finally, shove her hand down his pants, beneath his underwear, hard solid cock finally in her grasp as she barely manages to pull it free from his clothes. 

“Fuck,”Gale grits out, a rare curse for the wizard- for once all other words but profanity failing him. His fingers in her cunt pause as she wraps her own around him. The hand on her ribs pulls her tighter, as she feels the heat of him against her palm. Can feel the weight of his cock, can trace the veins along his length as she runs her fingers over him- the stick of precum when she touches the head. Gale breathing rough and ragged against her temple. 

“Gods, I can’t even get my fingers around you,” she blurts out, taking the rare chance to be the talkative one- surprised by just how thick he is in her hand. She’s no halfling or gnome, but her favorite wizard stands a good foot or more taller than her- size difference palpable in how her fingers struggle to meet around him. 

He bites beneath her ear,rocking his fingers back into her- pace harsher and rough as she tries to stroke him. Smearing precum down his cock as best she can, trying to make an easier slide of her hand up and down his cock, feeling it twitch against her fingers. A rough ragged groan against her skin, her insides clenching as his fingers fuck into her- thoughts of how his cock will feel, how much more it’ll split her open, making the drag of his fingers that much slicker. 

“So pretty in my arms, love- right where you belong, so sweet and desperate for me,” he rasps against her ear and she squeezes her fingers around him, feeling the stutter and stall in his hand inside of her. The strained growl against her jaw, his expression furrowed and tense- his jaw visibly clenched, eyes clenched shut. Perhaps the first time he’s fully taken his eyes off of her. 

He doubles his efforts between her thighs, working his fingers more harshly into her, fucking his fingers roughly into her. Each thrust and drag along her insides making her sees stars and not just the ones he’s conjured for her. Pleasure spiking higher and higher, building her up- her cunt clenching around him. She tries to work her own hand faster too, cursing herself for not having more experience with this sort of anatomy. 

And then a thought, a singular thought manages to surge above the fog his fingers have put into her mind. She needs it to be wetter, slicker, his precum helping but not enough for her liking. Her gestures are sloppy and messy, haphazard with need- pulling her hand off of him, he curses faintly, the feeling of his eyes back on her. She leans forward just a little to drool against her hand, gathering as much spit and saliva as she can, strands straining from her lips. Spit dribbling down her chin and she can only hope he’s not disgusted by the sight, but it’s left her hand wet. Another ragged breath, inhale and exhale against her as she wraps her spit slick fingers around him. 

His lips surge forward, catching her own in a messy crash, teeth clanging together as he kisses her- his tongue swiping to catch the spit that clings to her her skin, hungrily groaning into her mouth. She tries to keep up, tightens her grip as much as she can without fearing hurting him, her hand sliding up and down much easier with the glide of her drool and his precum. The piss poor excuse for lube allowing her to at the very least move her hand faster, trying to match the pace he’s set with his fingers inside of her. His palm presses down more firmly, the heel of hand finding her clit. A rough tempest of pleasure jolting through her nerves. 

And it’s a rough mix of kisses, moving hands. Being fucked apart by his fingers, grinding against her clit, pushing her closer and closer. A echoing squelch as he takes her apart, the wet slide of flesh against flesh as she strokes his cock- the hungry groans and soft sounds of their kisses, everything consuming her every sense. Pushing her closer and closer, coil pulling tighter, tighter. The drag and tease of him inside of her, the grind against her sensitive clit- the promise of what’s come with his cock twitching in her hand, the bite of his teeth against her lower lip. 

The world seems to split apart, crack open, and fall away from her- everything crashed into pleasure, thrown over the edge again. Twitching and writhing beneath his hand, hips thrashing and fucking herself through the shocks. The faint curse and snarl against her lips, the twitch in her hands- the heat of seed spilling over her fingers and hip

Then she’s falling, world truly carrening out from beneath her, yelping as her ass thumps painfully into the muck. A sharp jolt of pain through her tailbone, Gale trying to tug her closer, squeezing her tightly as the world physically shifts around them, his face burying into her hair. 

“Gods damn it.” 

Petra tries to process the sudden mix of just plain fucking pain. The cold cling of mud to her ass, blinking through the blissed out fog in her mind- no longer coated in the green blue glow of a shifting sky. No longer is her ass burried in a soft silken mass of blankets and sheets, now aching in the cold cling of muddy shadow curse dirt. The only light a mounted torch with faint flickering orange flames. There’s no traces of Gale’s illusions, just him and Petra- naked and sweaty in a patch of mud. The wizard holding her tightly, his face hidden in the top of her head- possibly the most bashful she’s ever seen him, even in their awkward little flirting moments, she’s never known him to physically hide his expression from her. 

“Gale… honey?” She says, using a rare term of endearment for her- those usually his territory. 

“Mmhm,” he hums vaguely against her scalp. 

“I have mud on my ass.” 

“As do I.” 

“Is there a particular reason why?” She tries, trying not to laugh as she tries to understand why he’s suddenly thrown them into the muck- if he wanted to rut in the dirt, she wouldn’t have been opposed to it, but it seems a little sudden and out of character for a man who still tries desperately to smell like lavender and bath oils while traipsing through the wilderness for days on end. 

“Ah well,” he murmurs, finally pulling back and allows her to see his face- cheeks ruddy, sweat beading his skin, his eyes looking down at his slick wet fingers, “Some conjuring and illusionary spells require… concentration to be maintained. And while my multitasking abilities are certainly exemplary,that focus can be particularly hard to keep when…” 

“When you’re getting jerked off?” 

“Not the wording I would have chosen, but- yes,” he admits, still avoiding her eyes. 

And she tries- she truly tries, biting her lip and gritting her teeth, because she wants to be mindful of his embarrassment. But her stomach tenses as a rush of laughter burbles out, snorting as giggles turn to cackles, pressing her hands to her mouth- body aching as she cracks up. 

She made him cum so hard the fucking spell broke. It’s so ridiculous, it’s so asinine, she can’t help but laugh- the pain in her tailbone now eclipsed by way her belly aches in laughter. And it only dies when she looks back at Gale, his head bowed slightly still- his eyes avoiding her and guilt eats at her heart. A part of her having hoped he’d be laughing along, that he’d see the humor in this. 

“Gale..” She whispers his name, her voice a little ragged and rough. 

“My apologies, I- this is not how I wanted this night to go for us, for you,” he explains, face far too contrite and shamed for what is just a silly little mishap, “I think, perhaps, another night if I conserve more of my energy during the day than I did today, I should be able to maintain the illusions for longer.” 

“Gale…” 

“Or perhaps, I can do just a little more research, see if I can find variations that require less concentration or maybe none at all,” he prattles onward, “I swear, my love, I can give you the night you deserve, I just may need more preparation than I expected, but I will make this up to you, I’ll-” 

“Gale!” She yells his name more firmly, finally looking at her- his eyes soft and vulnerable and she feels like she’s scolded a puppy but she leans forward to cup his face, “There is nothing for you to make up for.” 

“We’re lying in mud, my dear.” 

“Yes, we are lying in the mud and my stomach is streaked in cum because I jerked you off so hard you forgot how to be wizard for a minute- I’m not mad, it’s really fucking funny,” she reiterates, nuzzling his nose with hers as she tries to swallow her giggles- desperately trying to get him to just laugh. His lips curl into a shadow of a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach those big brown eyes. 

“Perhaps- but I didn’t bring you here to make you laugh, I brought you here to give you a perfect night, to make the joining of our bodies as beautiful as the joining of our souls. And we are lying in mud, you deserve more… I want to give you more.” 

“Gale, the night we joined souls you started off by showing me a book of people sixty-nining.” 

“A very poignant and beautiful book about newlyweds becoming one in every sense of the word-”

“By putting their mouths on each other’s genitals.” 

“That was one aspect of the process, yes- however-” 

She silences him with a kiss, soft and chaste- just enough to muffle the words threatening to pour from his lips. Petra pulls just a half breath away, leaning her forehead against Gale’s. Feeling the warmth of him, the cling of the sweat on both of them, smelling the salt of it on him. 

“I love you,” she murmurs, whispers it and hopes he can feel the adoration she pours into every syllable, meeting his gaze head on as her voice cracks, “I love you so fucking much and you’re so so much more than I deserve- and if you cannot believe that, trust that I do, that I truly mean it.” 

“I do, I truly do, I just, everything you’ve done for me, everything that you are- you deserve the world.” 

“And yet the only thing I want from it is you.” 

“Petra…” 

“So, for a moment, worry less about what you think I deserve and listen to what I want,” she asks, murmuring against his lips, skimming her thumb over his cheekbone, “I don’t need perfection and I don’t need pageantry and I don’t care if it’s messy or funny or weird- I want you, I need you. So please, let me have you. Don’t pull away, don’t scuttle off and worry yourself to pieces because something went wrong. Laugh with me, kiss me, fuck me- gods damn it.” 

“Anything for you, dear,” he says and their lips come together again, another reverent press of their mouths- she places her palm against his shoulder, pushing softly.

Quick witted as ever, he gets the idea- laying back for her and shifting off of his side, onto his ass properly as she throws a leg over his hips. His still hard cock bumping against her cunt as she settles on top of him. Breaking their kiss to pepper them across his jaw, nipping at his flesh through his beard, kissing down the marks that curl across his neck. Following them to the middle of his chest, where the orb burned through his flesh- pressing a kiss where the skin is forever bruised blue. The deep rumble of a groan in his throat making heat rush between her thighs. 

She sits back a bit, looking down at him- sweat tangled hair, ruddy cheeks, chest laid bare beneath her, and the faint orange glow of the torch light. Her hands run up his chest, thick and broad beneath her- body hair the roughest part of him, scratching beneath her palms. 

“Absolutely perfect,” she whispers, raking her nails along the swell of his pecs. 

“My thoughts exactly,” he returns, his hands gripping her hips as he smears a thumb through the streaks of cum still on her skin, and she can’t resist rolling her eyes- as if she wasn’t the one to initiate this round of corniness. 

Through the flickers of amber light, she notices a flash of deep purple fabric- Gale’s sleep shirt he’d tossed aside earlier. She lifts up a little further on her knees, leaning over him to reach for it, twisting her fingers in the soft fabric. 

“Eep!” She yelps at the sudden heat of his tongue and mouth on her chest, a sharp nip to the underside of her breast- “That is not why I was leaning over!” 

He smiles and laughs against her chest as she playfully swats at his chest, settling back to her position- his tunic still dangling from her fingers. Gale smiling up at her, too handsome for her to feel any measure of malice. 

“You can hardly blame for falling to temptation, especially when it comes to you.” 

“You underestimate just how much I’m willing to blame you for anything,” she teases before shifting forward just slightly- “Lift your back up a bit for me?”

“Of course,” he obliges, quickly getting her intent as they softly arrange his sleep shirt on the ground- it’s no four poster bed, but it’ll get his back out of the mud. 

“Not much, but-” 

“I feel positively pampered.” 

“Well, I do live to spoil you,” she teases back, considering for a moment wrangling his pants and underwear down further- his cock still the only thing that’s freed. But, that also means his ass has a modicum of coverage against the mud. Spoiling him again- obviously. 

Petra keeps one hand steady on his chest and the other reaches beneath her, feeling again the heat and weight of his cock in her hand. She hums, whines as she steadies her grip around the base of him- a groan deep in his chest, rumbling beneath her as she drags the head of his cock along her cunt. Her body aches with need as she lines him up with her entrance, Gale's hands grip her tighter. His fingers dip into her skin as his breath hitches and his jaw clenches tight. 

And she sinks down, her voice straining into a wordless cry as the head of his cock slides into her. Barely even inside of her and already stretching her wide, even having had him in her hand, but she needs to take a moment- not expecting just how much she’d be split open.Not painful, far too slick and ready for it to do anything feel incredible, if just a little new for her. 

A strained creak in his tone: “That’s it, no rush- take your time, if it’s too much, you only need to say the word.” 

“Gods no, no, it feels good- really fuckin’ good,” she assure him, voice rough and breathy, biting her lip as she starts to slowly lower herself down further, “So, so fucking good, fuck.” 

“There you are, taking me so well- perfect around me, like you were made for me,” he praises, voice gritted and his fingers grasping her tighter as her cunt clenches around him, the adoration stirring her insides as his cock buries within them. 

Every inch a deeper press, a tighter stretch, never painful but always full- like he could truly split her apar at any moment. But it’s never too much, the drag and sink of him perfect, absolutely perfect. A babble of breathless noise and nonsense on her tongue as she he carves a path into her- her hips finally settling when she’s about to scream out and there’s no more of him to take. Feeling the faint scratch of his body hair where they join, barely tugged down pants rough against her thighs and ass. 

The back of his head hits the dirt, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat- his eyes closed as his moves just slightly beneath her. Bracing his feet in the dirt, knees bending slightly as his hips lift up. Bucking inside of her, a sharp lightning strike of pleasure ripping through her- lurching her forward body forward, bracing her hands against his chest as she cries out. 

“Fuck!” 

“Ah, sorry, are you-” 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, I’m good, gods, I’m good,” she rushes to assure him, digging her nails into his skin, leaning forward to kiss at his jaw, groaning against his skin when it grinds him against her insides. 

Tentatively, she starts to rock herself on top of him, cursing as she starts to lift off him just a bit, whining at the drag of him inside of her. His hands allowing her to move, guiding her gently despite the harsh dig of his nails, digging red ragged crescents into her skin- blue bruises forming beneath his harsh touch. 

Petra barely pulls up before she lowers herself back down, his name on her lips as she’s filled with him again. Her grip on him only growing more desperate- more bruising, as she starts to find a harsher, quicker pace- bouncing herself on his cock, body thrumming and pleasure twisting tight as she tries to slam down hard enough on him. Tries to hit the right spot inside of her, grind her clit just right against his skin as she tries to set her pace. Her motions frantic and desperate, smearing and streaking slick across his skin and clothes, every desperate slam of her hips making her that much wetter, that much more accommodating, body frantic to welcome him into her over and over again. 

“Gods, your cunt doesn’t even want to let go of me, look so pretty with my cock inside of you,” he groans, her inside clenching at his choice of words, Gale’s cheeks flushed beneath the dark hair of his beard- his face screwed tight with his pleasure as his cock twitches inside of her squeezing walls. Petra in a frenzy as she fucks herself stupid, rides him as hard as she can, getting pushed closer and closer to the brink- pathetically close to her end, just a little more, a little more. 

His hands move further back,  curling around her ass, sinking his fingers into the plush flesh- her whimpering at the grope, the feeling of his warm digging into her- squeezing her so tightly. Harsh and firm, when hips roll into her, thrusting in as she sinks down- striking the very nerves she couldn't quite hit hard enough, a torrent of heat and need, stars dancing before her eyes without any magic. The force of his hips jolts her, her shaky arms giving out, her body collapse flush to his chest, nails digging into him as her face presses into his sweat slick skin. Pliant and boneless as Gale takes over the pace, gripping his ass tight between his hands and steadying her as he fucks her apart. 

And it’s pitiful how much better it is with him in control, Gale knowing her body and what she needs or perhaps just that much better at giving it to her. Harsh brutal snaps of his hips, every rut of him into her making her body thrum, her mind blanked with every strike at her deepest parts. Carving her out, splitting her open, burying himself into her over and over again- the wet squelch of him into her. Holding her vise tight to his chest, her sensitive tits scratched by his body hair a his motions rock and shift her against him. One hand leaving her ass to wrap around her middle, holding her tighter, clinging closer- his face buried to her temple as he fucks into her, uses her, splits her insides, and makes her body fit hims so perfectly. Not even able to hear or comprehend the whispers and praise whispered against her sweat tangled hair- gripping him tighter, Gale inside her and yet somehow nowhere near close enough. Not able to cling tight enough, not able to burrow far enough into his skin as she burns beneath the sharp bruising pace he drives into her. 

Then it all snaps, world shattering and cracking apart, crying out against his chest- mind empty with nothing but pleasure, clenching tight as he pulses inside of her. Squeezing around him, thrashing within his grasp, toes and fingers clenching- curling against him, around him, into him.

A few more harsh thrusts, rushed and hurried into her, followed by a rush of heat. The spill of cum into her insides, burning hot in her cunt, filling her- flooding her, warm in her fucked raw body. She pants and sighs against his skin, breaths rough as she comes back to earth and with no falling this time. He holds her like a promise, tight and reverent, kissing across her scalp and forehead as he rolls through the last of his ebbs of pleasure. Messy as he fills her with his cum, whining against his flesh, she feels it split out between the space where they connect. Filled to the brink with him, overflowed and spilling over with it, feeling it stick and cling to their thighs, their hips, where they meet. The languid slowly roll of him into her fucking his seed back into her, before his hips finally still as the last drop fills hers her, only to drip out again. 

They lay in the flickering torch light, skin wet with sweat and settling into each other’s flesh. His heart thunders and pounds beneath his skin, where her ear is pressed tight to him. Able to hear the desperate race and her own hammers in kind, in pace with each other, some relief that may be as ruined and ragged by her as she is by him. Only the sound of thundering hearts and them catching their breath, the faintest chirp of insects from the shadows. 

Slowly, steadily, the moments tick forward but time hardly feels like it’s touching them. Only the calming of their breaths and hearts marking the passage. His hands stroke and rub along her back, tracing her sweaty spine, both reach down to idly rub and stroke her lower back, pressing gentle reverence into her aching muscles. His lips burning adoration where they kiss her scalp, skim the scar of her forehead- she shifts to tuck her chin against his chest, looking up at his soft loving gaze. 

His hands push the hair off her forehead, cup her cheeks, thumbs stroking over the freckles that mark her face. A breath of a kiss against her forehead, her eyes closing beneath the touch. 

“Absolutely beautiful,” he praises, her eyes opening, her nose wrinkling as she blows a raspberry at him and his stupidly precious compliments- he laughs, “And a complete brat.” 

“Hmm, you love it.” 

“That I do,” he reponds to her teasing, another kiss and she meets his his lips. Sighing softly, knowing they can’t stay like this forever. 

Gently, she sits herself back up,Gale’s hands roaming down her sides- not missing the crease of disappointment in his brow when she’s no longer pressed flushed to his chest. She blinks, swallowing a gasp as she looks down at him. Rough raised scratches now mark his chest, thin red lines where her nails streaked his flesh and just managed to break it. Gently, her nails brush the marks. 

“Sorry, I’ll rub some salve and balsam ointment over it for you when we get back,” she promises, guilt creeping in- her nails are polished and due to her left, often have more dirt on them than she’d like- she could cause him an infection, “Maybe I should learn a healing cantrip or two…” 

“Thought you believed relying too much on healing magic was a crutch,” he asks, smiling up at her as he chimes the words she’s spoken so many a times when him or Shadowheart try to heal her when she only needs a bandage or a few dozen stitches. 

“I mean, for me, yes,” she murmurs, knowing it’s hypocritical- but it’s different when it’s him- he smiles, placing his hands over hers. She pulls her palms from his marked skin, bringing them to the press of his lips. 

“Worry not, dear- I hardly mind being marked by you,” he promises her, smiling against her knuckles and her nose wrinkles, his sweet words stirring her heart and only one response falls to her lips. 

“Blegh,” she spats, mock gagging at his corny existence, even if her cheeks are flushed and her heart thumping- he drops her hands, reaching out quick and giving a small sharp swat of his hand to her ass- “Ah, hey!” 

“Do not make gagging noises whilst I am inside of you,” he hisses, voice raised and incredulous- with just the softest edge of a laugh, his lips pulling back to a smile as she giggles. 

“Fine,” she reponds, rolling laguidly off of him- letting his cock slip out of her and plopping into the mud beside of him, giving a pointed look- “Blech!” 

“Darling-” 

“What I’ll no longer gag while you’re inside of me,” she promises, teasing him and his choice of words. His brown eyes rolls, a tut on his lips as he looks at her, before a different glint places. 

“Well, there can certainly be exceptions to the rule, should you wish,” he teases and after a beat, his meaning catches her- a way he’d be tucked inside of her that he’d accept her gagging, the idea of tasting him, and feeling him in her throat… 

“Is that something you’d wish?” She asks back, smiling a little- grin only widing when he clears his throat. 

“Another time, right now…” His voice trails and she watches him shift slight, a a little strained groan of pain his throat. 

“Your back killing you?” 

“Terribly so,” he admits, shaking his head and starting to sit up with a small grunt- his old achey muscles and joints always giving him issues. But it doesn’t stop him from pulling her over, tucking her into his lap as he sits; “Here, lets get you out out of the mud, dear.” 

She giggles, nuzzling into his neck as he make her plop her cum and dirt streaked ass in his lap. And as the afterglow fades and reality settles in her bones, she starts to realize some increasingly pressing concerns. The two are streaked in sweat, mud, and fluids. Her fingers brushing flecks of dirt off Gale’s shoulders, where his skin still met the dirt. His hair messy and tangled with little clumps of dirt, his skin warm and smelling of sweat and musk, Petra unable to help inhaling against his chest. 

Beneath them, his shirt is caked in mud, grinding into the dirt under their bodies. His only kind of on pants streaked with cum, clearly stained, dirt on back of it. Her own clothes are tossed in the dirt as well, having hit the dirt through the illusion. Mud on her back and some clinging to her ass, streaked where his fingers groped her- a mess of cum between her thighs. 

And they do have to go back to camp. 

“Uhm, do you have a spell to clean us and our clothes?” She asks, traces her nails over his neck. 

“Yes and no,” he explains, expression slightly tense, one hand on her hip, the other gesticulating with a pointed finger, “Prestidigitation can quite easily clean our clothes, with a bit of folding for mine perhaps, and is cantrip as well- fairly simple, only lasts an hour I”m afraid, but that would certainly be long enough to get back and safely tuck ourselves away in our tent.” 

“Mmhm..” 

“However, it is specific to objects and those of a certain footage, which- you and I do not qualify as. And between our fights of the day and my illusionary work, it’ll take a good nights rest before I can cast much more than a cantrip, so…” 

“So, our clothes will be clean, but we’ll be traipsing back with dirt on our skin and reeking of sex,” she double checks because there’s no river near the clearing- the camp using warmed basins of conjured magic for a while now. Which are back at camp. Where their companions are. 

“Or we could stay here for a night…” 

“And keep tally of the number of shadow cursed insects that inevitably crawl up our assholes.” 

“There are the bugs…” 

“I think we may have to face the music on this one,” she says, knowing sculking and sneaking back to camp is not a choice- not with Gale’s knees. 

“Alas, reality returns far too soon,” he muses, looking down at her where she’s still balanced within his arms and her cheek to his chest, “Still the night you wanted?” 

She giggles- they’re caked in mud, sweat, and cum. Sitting in the muck of a cursed lands, the threat of returning to camp to prying eyes and questioning voices. The only reason they can even safely sit here with monsters prying flesh from their limbs and darkness creeping into their souls is the blessing of a captured pixie. Demands of goddesses and moonstruck kingdoms ran by cults all on the horizon. But his arms are wrapped flush around her, the smell of his skin in her nose, the ache of where he was inside her. Skin marked in his love. 

“It’s perfect.”

[dotster001]

Are you ok with writing alcohol related stuff? I think it would be funny to have a drunk headmaster complain to reader about all the work and mischievous students while reader tries to calm him down and just get him to drink water because fae apparently do not have a superior tolerance. OR on the opposite: reader gets drunk and Crowley has to deal with us now maybe we get him flustered too >:)

(hey nonnie I finally finished it. I seriously debated waiting until my birthday so I could be like, "the US government says I can drink now!" But luckily for both of us, I got hit with the inspiration bug. I hope it's everything you dreamed edit; I just realized I combined your two ideas into one...oops I went flustered crowman route)

Drugged Up Reader Addition from 300 Followers event

A/N: It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age.

CW: excessive drinking, black out from drinking

Fae were known to hold their liquor extraordinarily well. A bottle? Three? Bah! That didn't matter at all to the fae! Besides, he deserved to treat himself after putting up with shenanigans all day.

Four bottles……

Yeah, so Crowley was on his sixth bottle of a 300 year old wine of excellent vintage, when fate decided it was time for you to come to his office. Naturally, as the cool, collected, fabulous headmage he was, all he had to do was play it cool, and you'd never know.

"Greetings Prefect! What can I do ya for?" Yep. You'd never know.

Had he been more sober, he would have noticed that you were soaking wet and covered in dust and plaster bits. But since he didn't notice, he was able to not notice this fact, as you sat across from him with a frustrated huff.

"The shower in Ramshackle exploded," you scowled. "Any chance, in all your generosity, that there is some budget for a new one?" 

"But of course!" He stood up, gesturing wildly. You couldn't hide your shock, which made him laugh, as he leaned over his desk to squish your face between his palms.

"My dearest, squishiest, prefect. Whatever you want, I shall give you!" 

Suddenly, you gasped. "Are you drunk?"

He let go of your face and scoffed, illustrating the six empty bottles on his desk.

"Nonsense, my dear, the fae don't get drunk. As you can see, I have only consumed ten bottles…"

"There's only six here, though," you interrupted, becoming nervous for his health.

"Ah! You're right! I still have four more bottles to consume! You must join me Y/N!"

"I don't think I should…."

He kept over his desk with surprising dexterity, and gently slotted himself in your lap, nuzzling his cheek against yours like a cat.

"C'mon Y/N, I'd hate to drink alone. I'd be sooooo lonely without you…like before…" his eyes were suddenly elsewhere, and he froze in your lap.

Then he started tearing up, crying into your collar.

"Please don't leave me, Y/N!" He sobbed.

You began running your hands through his hair worriedly, trying to calm him down.

"Do you mean, like right this moment, or in general?" You asked, mildly amused with yourself.

"Yes," he whimpered. You had no idea how the giant crow man was able to make himself look so small in your lap, but it was making your heart melt.

"Okay, I won't leave then," you said, hoping that it would calm him a little.

He looked up at you, suddenly no longer crying, eyes full of total adoration. 

"I love you Y/N. It's time you know that," he breathed, moving closer to your lips.

Then he blacked out.

                                ….

Crowley opened his eyes, and immediately shut them again with a groan. The lights in his room were too bright, and his head hurt, and….wait. He didn't remember going to his room last night.

"Ah, sleeping beauty has finally awoken," that was your voice, but what were you doing in his room?

He opened his eyes, and slowly sat up. You were sitting in a chair next to his bed, holding a book and, great sevens, wearing his clothes.

"Why are you here?" He asked cautiously.

"You blacked out on me, and I had to drag you to your room. You're surprisingly heavy, you know. Are you hiding muscles under all those layers?"

He scoffed, ready to tell you about how someone of his station had to stay in good shape, until he fully processed what you had said.

"How generous of you to bring me to my room," he croaked. "But why," he swallowed thickly, "why are you wearing a set of my clothes?" Not that he'd complain. They looked good on you.

You raised a single eyebrow. "My shower exploded, remember? My clothes were all wet and dirty, and I didn't want to ruin your furniture, so I kind of just grabbed something from your closet." Your grin turned downright evil. "Wait, do you not remember anything from last night?" 

You giggled. He loved that giggle, but right now he was filled with pure terror.

"I have an excellent memory, prefect," he scowled, trying to play it off. But it was clearly too late. You knew.

You stood up, and approached him. You squished his cheeks with your palms.

"So you remember this then?"

He loved your smile, but right now he wanted to wipe it off your face. You'd left him in his clothes, thank goodness, so you couldn't see his reddening cheeks under his mask. He'd never been more grateful for anything.

"Of course I remember," he said, composure disappearing fast.

"Then you remember this?" You crawled into his lap, and buried you face in his collar. He stiffened, afraid if he breathed you would disappear.

"Ye…yes."

"Okay," you grinned wickedly, "so you'll remember this then." You leaned into his ear and whispered, "I love you, Y/N." 

He was going to have what humans called a heart attack. Had he really said that last night? He'd kept it buried for so long….

"If you remember that, you'll definitely remember this," you leaned in as though to kiss him, but pulled away and left his lap at the last second. He involuntarily let out a whine, making you giggle. 

"And that's when you passed out."

He was on his feet in seconds pulling you tightly to him, directing your chin so you face him.

"Kiss me," he whispered breathlessly.

"That's not what happened," now that he was fighting back, you were starting to look flustered. Good. You deserved it.

"I'll give you whatever you want if you kiss me," he said, confidence steadily growing now that the ball was back in his court.

"Whatever I want? Hmmm…" you said thoughtfully, then leaned in to kiss him. He nibbled along your bottom lip, causing you to gasp, and allowing him to deepen the kiss. After several breathless moments, you pulled away from him entirely.

"Whatever I want," you muttered to yourself, and made to leave the room. As you pulled open the door, you called over your shoulder, "Fix my damned shower."

...

Tag list: @stygianoir

[slugpupencyclopedia]

Submitted Slugpup 17: Tidal Found: ????

Note from Submissioner: And here's his sibling, Tidal! I honestly don't remember where I found them, and I didn't mention them anywhere until I'd nearly beat the campaign and realized I never posted about my second child. So. Oops.

They did both disappear at some point (idk how cause I have an immortal pup mod but they sure are gone) so I had to respawn them for those individual pics lol. Here's an old one of them together from my campaign

(submitted by @/catgirlkirigiri alongside Leviathan)

[ominous-feychild]

✦ HEIGHT COMPARISON ✦

Thanks for the tag, @yourpenpaldee!

RULES:

Use this site to compare the heights of your OCs.

I'm not going to lie, I have mixed feelings about this tag, haha. I mean, it was pretty fun in a lot of ways! But the website was also laggy and, uh... diverse body types and stuff? Definitely not, whoops.

On a more positive note! I decided on the colors for each of these characters a while ago, and this is also a cool way so show them off! Tell me what you think of everyone's colors, and if I did a good job making them distinct from one another!

(The amount of my characters I saw related to blue without even realizing it... I had to move some to shades of purple!!!)

SUN AND SHADOW

This one was disappointing in body types both for ridiculous reasons (why no harpy for poor Crow? 😂) aaaand... a lot more valid ones. Like, okay, there wasn't a single icon for a person with a cane. Not even for a thin one! So instead we just got Soren with his hands in his pockets.

THE ARCANE RIFTS

Large cast, sorry guys! 😂 Believe it or not, I actually made a separate one with a few more of the characters if you guys want me to post it separately! I just didn't want to crowd this post up any more than it already will be, haha.

Gene is a smol boy, both from genetics (😉) and malnutrition, whoops. Although they won't show up in the Arcane Rifts (or... not any time soon? 👀), I have a lot of Gene's family built out and they're all pretty short, haha. So it was a given he would be, too! Thennnnn there was also the "no option for a cane" thing. 😑

Adilzhan, on the other hand, has always been planned out to be gigantic, haha. If there were any harpy icons, I could've done one for him and shown another reason this man is considered to be hulking! Dude's terrifying, I love him. 10/10.

This is the kids' fully-grown heights btw! Obviously seven-year-old Gene isn't 5'3, haha. He'll only be that tall later into book 2.

RISING FROM THE ASHES

Another place the lack of diverse icons reallllly didn't vibe well with me, oops. Guqayya wears a headscarf for religious reasons, but there weren't any avatars with it and, well... idk, maybe she's not a real person, but I really don't like having anything representing her without one.

Sammy, on the other hand? Great, 10/10, haha. One of the Things™ about him is that he looks much younger than he actually is, and one of the ways that shows is in his height! He's actually 15, though, he just absolutely does not look it, haha. Poor kid.

Also it greatly amuses me that not only is Caron not that tall (meanwhile his son towers above him), but Guqayya is taller than him. Cranky old healer lady ftw am I right?

(More seriously, it amuses me because he's a super intimidating presence. Tbh he's got a lot of muscle--though he hides it under loose-fitting clothes--and he's got a lot of other factors that makes him more intimidating. Like, famous and known to lead a knight's college for one. But also he's got a generally very collected manner, doesn't really show his emotions, and--oh, right. Is powerful enough magically that he radiates an aura of power, haha. Still! It's so funny to picture that in an otherwise almost average-height man! I think it's not done that often tbh.)

ALL MAIN CHARACTERS

Aaaand the actual main characters of each of the stories! (Well, technically minus the MCs of the later books of tAR, but that's not really relevant, so--)

Turns out my MCs tend to be kinda short, haha. Oh, well! I think I did a great job diversifying the colors for them, though, so hopefully it'll be easy to distinguish when I start making posts about them again!

Despite the lack of diversity, I did mostly have fun with this tag! It's interesting looking at the characters' heights actually put side-to-side visually like this--I've never gotten to see it before, haha.

Also, this might've let me mess with the numerical heights to better match those that I saw visually occurring between the characters... I'm not that great at converting numbers to distance in my mind. The aphantasia doesn't help, whoops.

I'm proud that it seems I've done a decent job of varying the heights and generally making them accurate to irl averages, though!

Tagging (gently!!!): @the-golden-comet @darkandstormydolls @the-letterbox-archives @illarian-rambling @wyked-ao3

@ath3alin @mysticstarlightduck + open tags!!!

Gorgeous divider by @saradika!

[nsfwflint]

Peek Inside My Writer's Mind/Idea Giveaway

So now that I'm officially retired with not much real interest in returning, I'm going through my old prompt/idea server and finding some gems. So I'm going to post them here and if anyone wants to write them/use any of the title ideas feel free. Consider this my last gift to the community.

Without any further ado, here's a list of random ideas I've come up with over the years that I never got around to doing: Edited to add read more line cause I didn't realize how long it got oops.

Set up where Irene is like "you know what to call me." and making everyone think it'll be mommy kink just for protag to call her daddy.

Hyomin piece where you're in a bar bathroom and see "for a good time call _" with a number scrawled underneath. you usually ignore such random graffiti but for some reason you end up calling the number and end up setting up an appointment with hyomin who shows up and fucks your brains out.

title idea: Delivering Love Like A 1920's Carrier Pigeon.

breeding kink johyun sejeong eunbi jihyo piece where they all made a pregnancy pact to get pregnant by the same guy and choose the protagonist. title is "Studded More Than Genghis Khan"

treasure hunter hyejeong where it ends with her ghosting with the treasure after a night of celebratory lovemaking

Piece where you're at a bar and a news report comes on that a meteor collision is imminent and yujeong is the girl you were talking to and she takes you home because she wants to have sex one last time. When you're about to cum she says to cum inside her because the world is ending who cares if she gets pregnant

a piece where you sacrifice yourself to save a stranger and when you open your eyes you're face to face with literal god sejeong and god jihyo. as a reward for your selfless heroism they allow you to sleep with one of them before moving on to heaven. after agonizing over the decision you flat out ask if you can have sex with both of them instead. they say yes but you would pass up your chance to go to heaven for it. so naturally you decide on purgatory in order to fuck both of them. call it Heavenly Rewards

title idea "You Thought This Was A Sequel But It's A Shitty Alternate Universe"

title for a piece with a japanese idol: Need For Seed: Tokyo Drift

series idea: you become a male escort working out of a 5 star resort that your coworker jokingly calls Bikini Kingdom. you reply that it isn't a classy name and decide to call it the bk lounge instead. for the first chapter you fuck hyomin in her bikini and at the end it's revealed that was your recruitment and she turns you into an escort. another chapter will be rockit girl leeseul as a chaebol heiress that visits for some naughty fun and you fuck her in her bikini

cheng xiao piece where she leads you on a puzzle filled professor layton-esque adventure that ends with her rewarding you

Kang han na piece: she's a transfer student who you hook up with at night in the library. Right after you cum inside her you feel yourself growing tired. It's revealed that she's a succubus and is slowly transferring your soul inside her. As you feel yourself fading away, the last thing you hear is another student succubus coming up and going "another one??" to which kang han na replies "yeah. But this one was amazing. I won't need to feed for probably a hundred years after that fuck."

Title for chef chungha: Delectable Sin

Sequel to sua x seungyeon, same photographer model set up but with gahyeon x eunbin. Plot point is they join you for location scouting. Title is "Location"

Sequel to First Snow/Reconnecting/Catching up that takes place directly after the events of Reconnecting. Kang Mina takes protag back to her place and all three couples all have sex that ends up turning into a moaning contest until protag makes Mina squirt and scream so loud that all other moans stop. Morning after protag gets into the elevator with the other two men and smiles as they all know he won. Rashomon style that shows the night through each couple. Titled "Noise Level"

piece ends with idol teasing you as you drink a water bottle standing near the bed. she gets off the bed to tease you, and right as your cum drips out of her and onto the floor she freezes and says "daddy?" to which you reply "i didn't know you were into that but i can be whatever you want me to be." before you follow her eyes behind you and see her dad staring at the two of you before looking down to the puddle of cum on the floor.

Hani one shot idea: morning sex piece titled Sunrise. When you walk into the kitchen she's sitting on the table wearing nothing but an apron. She tells you she made your favorite meal for breakfast and lifts up the apron to reveal that she's sitting with her pussy on a plate and you eat her out before fucking her on the table

April Fools idea: entire piece is setup to be reader x momo but ends up being reader x heechul (you can tell how long ago this idea was written down now lol)

Ending for Black Dress idea: protag sitting at a table with all the idols sitting on the other side looking at him and he stares helplessly at a literal pile of positive pregnancy tests lmao.

Well that's about all the good ones I think. Most of the others either are too simple to post here so people would think of them anyway, or were ideas for the ongoing series that no longer matter.

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed the ideas or got a smile out of some of the title ideas like I did. And if anyone does end up using/writing any of them, I would appreciate a "inspired by Flint" shoutout lol.

[darsynia]

I have PLAYED MYSELF, folks

Back on a bit of a writing hyperfocus and am only not back on tumblr fully yet because...

it's daunting to know where to start to catch up (a dear Tumblr friend passed away and I'm brokenhearted),

I want to love on all the people at once and that's daunting, and

I felt the hyperfocus coming on and chose to do A Stupid and rewatched an 30 year old show I didn't think I'd end up wanting to write for, since I never have in the past!

OOPS. What I didn't bank on is that this was deeply formative for my romance preferences ('forbidden' romance to an extent, an age difference, Scottish Male Lead, smart and tortured love interest, idealistic main character, I could go on), and there are precious few stories in the first place. It's not even a rare pairing! The show handed this couple to you on a platter and then canceled the show on a cliffhanger argh argh argh.

SO. I'm working on this story that had 6 fics on AO3 before I posted one (some of my tags: This Show Needs a Prescription For MORE FIC; Shipping Neil/Christy For 30 Years Does Something to a Person; It Was a Crime to Never Show These Two Kissing) but I'm also popping over to Steve/Reader and Toby Ziegler/OC periodically as well. I'd intended to do Flufftober with a new Steve fic idea but that may have to be NaNoWriMo instead, depending on the temperature of the fandom at present, heh.

If you're curious about that idea, it's set right after Avengers 1, as Steve is adjusting to being in the modern era. Stark Industries has branched out into some TV production as a way to generate goodwill given the destruction in New York. The show is called Cap Comes Home, and it's a 'what if' setting where Steve was able to successfully make it back instead of disappearing. A problem arises when the actor they'd hired to play 1940's Steve Rogers has a stunt injury-- but Steve himself steps in.

It ends up being a great way to be accurate about his 'character,' do some pretty wild stunts without hurting anyone, and eases Steve back into society very nicely. It turns out the actress they'd cast for a love interest has terrible chemistry with the real Steve, but things sizzle between him and their skilled prop technician, who stepped in for a bit part on the show.

Everyone can tell that the two of them are very good for each other, but is it ethical to facilitate a real-life romance on set? Will the two of them realize that's what's happening before the producers can rake in the profits from one of the most unique shows ever created?

Is that something you'd want to read? I'm torn as to whether to make it an OC or a Reader fic (seems that readership is waning on here and IDK if AO3 is more inclined toward Reader or OC). Is there anything you'd love to see portrayed as a plot device in the meta show inside this fic?

[torse]

AU / headcanon scene - “End of the World”

more shameless whump Mad Max or Book of Eli kind of deserty post apocalypse vibes I have a different post apocalypse HC- I just realized I never cleaned it up and posted oops. anywho this one is a different setting from that

idk how old they are in this, or what decade it is. unsure if there are vehicles or not

Soul and a Halves are hiding out in an old storm drain kind of thing? or bunker. it has access to a cave/spring water but is otherwise completely dry. Dogheads are in some half dilapidated high rise a bit of a walk away it rains for the first time in years. and I mean like flash flood kind of rain. Notkin gets sick (as per usual), it's really bad pneumonia. one of the kids goes to the dogheads to trade for medicine Khan ends up coming back with them the entire Souls' fort is dank, moldy, etc because of the water. Khan tells them to search for leaks, seal off bedrooms, dry as much as they can, and open manholes to the surface to cycle air out. then he gives Notkin the meds and brings him to the high rises as it'd be safer for recovery Notkin gets better in a few days and is later found angsting at the edge of one of the roofs Khan: "I didn't think you for one who would fall prey to the call of the void." (the intrusive thought to jump) Notkin just sits in silence for a bit. then says "Raiders havent attacked in awhile." Khan: "I tend to see that as a good thing-" Notkin: "I think everyone's dead." TLDR their crops are getting harder and harder to grow, they haven't seen any other people in years, there are no animals, no nothing. Just flat, empty desert and even emptier ruins. on top of Notkin's shit immune system and other health issues… he is thinking of just driving/walking in a direction until he finds proof that the world isn't dead (aka hope). or until he dies himself

I think its a bit OOC but.. Khan's more of a dreamer (obviously) so he is more likely to be like "well it just rained so the crops might do better after it drains a bit-" Notkin: "it's sour water and you know it"

Notkin was always more based on material things, not in a greedy way just.. he more down to earth and he recognizes that he has less and less to offer/promise his kids for a future each year.

I dunno, I'm always a bit unsure about his motivations for the future

[panicatthediaz]

So... Like I said in this post, I've been busy with work. To the point I forgot to post this last night. Oops. In my defense, I was up until 5 am trying to finish the project. And also as stated in the post linked, this will be the last I post for a bit. I'm not abandoning this fic, on the contrary, I'm trying to write some more, I only have one part finished after this.

[Part 1] – [Part 9] – [Part 11]

@madaboutmunson @lamburrito @benjaminrussell @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dijkstraspath @swiftiebuckleys @spectrum-spectre @epiclazershark @redheadchimechild @steddie-there @gayngerthings @manda-panda-monium

Pin a String to My Chest – 10

Reminiscing

Wayne hadn't expected a lot in his life. He never felt like he was missing much, either, no matter what people said life should be like. He never felt the type of love that friends and acquaintances talked about, for starters.

He had quite a few of those, once upon a time. Friends. But he grew up, moved to a different state altogether after high school, and it was hard to stay in touch. The ideas of what he wanted in life also seemed different from the people he knew back home and from the people he met in Hawkins.

Whatever.

The first time he ever felt strongly for another person, Lauren had just given birth to Edward James Munson, just weeks after convincing Wayne's brother to move to Indiana.

"Looks a little wrinkly, don't you think?"

Lauren had laughed and swatted at him. Richard hadn't made it to the hospital until hours later when Lauren and Edward were long asleep. Trying to figure out where he'd been wasn't worth the fight.

Little Eddie brought a lot of excitement into their lives, affectionate in a way that surprised Wayne. It had never been a strong point of his, but the kid deserved that he tried.

When Eddie was six years old, Lauren came over with the kid to drag him to see some animated movie release. Eddie apparently had insisted, and Lauren knew he wouldn't have anything to do on his day off.

"That was a nice movie," Lauren said once they were on their way back to the trailer park, looking at Eddie in the backseat. "Wasn't it, baby?"

With a glance at the rearview mirror, Wayne could see Eddie nod with a smile on his face.

"Tramp was really cool!" The kid exclaimed.

Lauren laughed, shaking her head. "I think I like Lady the most."

"Of course you do," Wayne chuckled. "Say, Eddie, did you have a favorite moment?"

Eddie hummed, apparently thinking it over. "I liked when the other dogs helped Tramp escape. That was nice of them," he said with a nod.

"That really was nice of them," Lauren said. "They realized they were wrong about Tramp and helped him out."

"Mhm!" Eddie hummed in agreement. "He was the good guy! Ma," he called, barely stopping to breathe. "Do you have a favorite part?"

Turning a little to face her son, Lauren nodded with a smile. "The restaurant scene, when they are eating spaghetti?"

Wayne shook his head, smiling. Lauren was a little predictable in her love of romance, and it was nice to see it. He didn't really get it, though.

"Why that one?"

Eddie's confusion was perfectly audible in his tone, and he could see Lauren's smile widening. Eddie was probably frowning, the kind that scrunched up his whole face.

"It's a cute romantic moment," Lauren explained. "They were out together and that made them happy." She shrugged. "I like seeing others happy."

Wayne could see him nod decidedly. "Like I'm happy!"

Lauren laughed softly, full of affection for the kid in the backseat of Wayne's car.

"More or less," Lauren corrected. "Lady and Tramp are like… Your dad and I," she settled on. "They really like each other." She paused, glancing at Wayne with a knowing sort of smile. "But that looks different for everyone. Some people," she lowered her voice as if she were telling a secret, "Are plenty happy on their own."

"Like Uncle Wayne?" Eddie gasped as a thought occurred to him, wiggling a little and accidentally kicking the back of the driver's seat. "You are happy, right?"

Lord help him, the concern in Eddie's question pulled on his heartstrings.

"Yeah, kid, I am." He reached to poke at his legs from the driver's seat. "Not missing anything in life."

"Okay," he replied softly. Eddie spent the next few minutes in silence, and Wayne let himself listen to the music playing softly on the radio. He heard Eddie shift around and before long, he found him looking out at the window at the next red light.

"Hey, Ma?" Lauren hummed to let him know she was listening. "Can I get a dog?"

Laughing, the two started discussing the logistics of getting a dog. Eddie repeatedly said that he'd take care of it, while Lauren said they should probably save some money first, then they would talk to Richard about it.

"He's not keeping any job," Lauren admitted later, well after Eddie had gone to sleep. "I'm worried Richard is going to do something stupid, you know he has a temper…"

Wayne did know. His brother was only four years younger, but their father leaving when Richard was six seemed to have changed something big for him. But he didn't know that their parents both seemed better off separated than Wayne remembered seeing them together.

The dwindling phone calls had hurt them both, though.

"I don't think I can do much," he told her a little hesitantly, "But let me know if either of you ever need me."

Lauren nodded, smiling sadly as she looked at the kid asleep on the couch. Eddie looked peaceful, unaware of life's problems, and Wayne wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Over the following months, he brought the kid with him to Hawkins on his days off, the three-hour drive be damned. He let him ask the questions his father seemed to hate, and tried to encourage him to just talk to Wayne.

Not even a full year later, Lauren showed up at his trailer with Eddie in tow. The kid had a bruise circling his arm, and Lauren was smiling, but there was fire in her eyes. She said she had some things to do, but she'd be back for Eddie in a few hours.

The following day, she only said she had reminded Richard of some important things, and Wayne hadn't needed to ask more. Things went back to how they'd been, and he hadn't seen another bruise on Eddie.

And then Lauren fell ill.

Cancer, they'd said. Her health deteriorated too quickly, and she was gone the first week of 1976.

Wayne didn't see Eddie for months, having to make do with sporadic phone calls and a single visit over the summer. Eddie couldn't give him a number as his father kept moving them all over Indiana.

He got an upsetting call from CPS late February of the next year, and Eddie was living with him by the beginning of March. He didn't talk about how his old man left him on his own for days on end, but in the end Eddie was still much the same, just taller and with his hair shaved close to the scalp.

(He refused to cut it ever again. They compromised on getting it occasionally trimmed about 10 months later.)

For the next nine years, Wayne saw his nephew grow into his own person — though still so much like his Ma. It was a different kind of fire, he thought, but Wayne saw the same drive to protect the little guy that his mother had always had.

Wayne was sure it was what had initially attracted Richard to Lauren, but two years of marriage before Eddie was born had proven she couldn't be tamed.

Eddie was down the same path.

When his kid first came home with a bruised cheek, Wayne made sure he knew he could run from fights. Should run. Eddie, though, said it was easier to "be loud and distract bullies". That he wasn't in the fight until he put himself in it for some other kid's sake.

He'd been 13 back then. The protective streak only grew in highschool, especially after he found that club of his. And then he started dealing — which Wayne did his best to ignore after telling him to be careful and not to use it — in 1983, and the only black eye that whole school year had come from an out of control idiot. Eddie's words.

The point was that he knew his kid, better than anyone in this town. He (unwillingly) knew his music, knew (much more willingly) about his art and his ideas. Knew what he liked openly and loudly, and what he liked in the confines of their trailer.

He knew, with absolute certainty, that Eddie wouldn't have been capable of doing the things he was accused of during spring break, and he was proven right that next weekend.

He wanted Eddie to know that. But the kid had to wake up first.

[chiocchi]

Chiocchi!

Big fan of your artistry. I love your art so much! And those graphic novels you have on ao3??? Heaven sent! I use them as an imagery reference if I read any similar trope haha!

I asked the same question to leafiloaf since I love them too, but I'll be very interested to know your artistic journey if you don't mind sharing. How did you start with your art?

Tysm for being in this fandom ❤️

youknowmevj! omg thank you so much! You're too kind 😭🥺❤️❤️❤️ And yess lots of love to leafiloaf

Thanks for the ask! I've never told anyone about it and I'm so excited I'll give you so much unnecessary context. Oops long post.

My artistic journey

I've enjoyed drawing since I was little, but mostly I just drew doodles in my notebook. Anime was a big inspiration for my style and I wanted to create digital illustrations too. When I was a teenager, I tried using a mouse and a PC, and my finger and some app on my phone, but the results were always terrible. I told myself it was because I didn't have a drawing tablet, so "of course my drawings will look ugly" and stopped trying.

However, I promised a discord friend that I would do a drawing for her in December 2020. So, I downloaded this app called "Ibis Paint" on my phone and, with all my effort despite my lack of ability, I drew Harry using the app and my finger jskldhfsa

I was so hesitant and nervous about showing it to her. I could tell it wasn't pretty, just "weird and awkward", and I felt embarrassed. But she told me it was good (LIES) and somehow convinced me to share it with others on the server. Despite feeling shy, I shared it anyway. To my surprise, three people told me it was pretty! I appreciated their kindness.

It wasn't until March 2021 that I returned to drawing digitally and on a more consistent basis. I was mainly doing fanart for a game that I liked.

In May or June (I can't remember exactly), I stumbled upon an artist who created incredible art using Ibis Paint. And I realized that I didn't need a drawing tablet, just more practice and skill, because if they could do it, then I could do it too! That was the moment I began taking art more seriously (still as a hobby, though!).

Due to the pandemic, I had a lot of free time, which I used to watch a lot of tutorials, practice gesture and follow the advice of artists I liked. With every drawing I made, I could see an improvement, which motivated me even more to keep on working hard (drawing became a source of comfort during those depressing times. It was just really fun).

In late 2021, I mentioned to a childhood friend that I wanted to buy a drawing tablet, and he asked me if I wanted his old one, which I excitedly accepted. Finally, I had the tool that would make my art incredible… or so I thought! I was terrible with it. For the first few months, I preferred Ibis paint and my finger. But I eventually got the hang of it! What I love the most are the multiple brushes and pressure settings. I'm such a hoarder, even if I don't use all of them ksklajdl.

In 2022, I participated in several bigbangs and zines, but what I'm most excited to talk about is the tomarry comic that I started.

My tomarrymort art

I've read tomarrymort fics since 2017, but I wasn't active on the fandom. In 2020, I joined a writer's server (all love to Amanda) and met the friend I mentioned earlier. So technically, you could say my love for tomarrymort lead me here kek

Even though my main inspiration was a game, here is some fic fanart I made.

This is my first tomarry art (July 27th, 2021). It's a scene from Genius by the Numbers. I think it looks weird kjdshk

I also made art for A Mating of Convenience, what started in beautiful rooms, Dripping Fingers and for Ale, beloved. (I think I've never posted these before.)

Then two things happened: I saw comic on ao3 (If I'll Ever See You by festivewind) and I was like "WOW! THAT'S SO COOL" and "omg we can upload comics!"

The second thing was me being rejected as a webtoon background artist (naturally, as I wasn't good enough for the specifics) and the spite made me want to do my own so I could improve my weakness (the grind never stops 💪🔥).

I read some of my old notes for story ideas (I'm not good at writing but I still had some snippets of stories). And boom! Love triangle but the 3 of them are idiots (affectionate). Fun fact: the original version had a murder, someone in Azkaban and someone hating the other forever :D

Don't pretend started as an anonymous work because some of my friends knew my AO3 username and I was afraid of screwing up the format (I don't know html) and looking like a fool DKJALKSJL I was also afraid of possible backlash (I'm an over-thinker).

None of that happened (comments were very kind and nice!) But idk, it was nice being anon. I'm awkward and shy and I usually don't know what to say to compliments (Sometimes a "thank you" doesn't feel enough but that's all my brain can offer 😭)

Then I made some tomarry christmas art and shared it on TRoR discord server and someone asked me if I had Tumblr and I said no but that gave me the idea of making one.

Since I planned Don't pretend as being a long story, I realized it'd take me a long time to finish it and I wanted to contribute to the complete tomarrymort works! That's the reason I took a pause and made A Soulmate Like You.

Anyway, I made this tumblr on January 2023, and the plan was to fill it with art so, eventually, when I found the courage to make my works non-anon, I could link to this page. Except that I posted one drawing, and that was enough for isalisewrites to know it was me HJKASDJLA. So I stopped the anonymous thing.

I'm still not used to being "perceived" 👁️👁️ but I've learned it's not bad. People have been really kind and I think I'm less shy now! I'm very happy to be part of this fandom with lots of kind and supportive people and incredible fics and fanart <3

[redstringraven]

oop forgot to say

25 & 16 was for nyxram

>:D aaa, thank you so much!!! appreciate it! 💜

edgy/misc OC ask meme

16) what is your OC's pain tolerance like?

i imagine it's disturbingly high... to what's, like, probably an unhealthy amount. triceratons are tanks as a whole already*--due to their size, thick skin, and high-temperature tolerance--and here you have one who likely finds more nostalgia in certain pains than she does foods, smells or music (she didn't even grow up with access to music, so). yeah, nyxram is definitely one of those people where like. if you shoot her, you better know it's going to kill her. otherwise all you'll have managed to do is irritate her at best and piss her off at worst. she's not going to go down unless she's either dead or her body just physically gives out on her. which, again: not easy to do with triceratons in general. ...nyx could be standing in the meeting room bleeding from her side and be more concerned with excusing herself so she doesn't stain the floor or equipment than, y'know. the fact she has an open wound in her side. *they're hella nerfed in-series imo, and i'm gonna blame that on zanramon because he's there; don't @ me (lh)

25) what is your favorite thing about your OC?

gosh... i have a few, but for brevity i think i'll say: i love that she's a morally-gray character and also that because of the background i've given her, it's given me an opportunity to play with different approaches to triceraton combat and weaponized tech. like, post-rebellion nyx struggles with falling into old habits or old ways of thinking; she finds herself eavesdropping on her squad or traximus when she's quietly seeking '''moral guidance'''. she's a person who grew up in extreme isolation with, essentially, two serial-killers-for-hire as parents/teachers, raised and forged to kill. she had enough of a compass to realize she wanted out of that life, but now that she's out? she's having to learn, relearn, and unlearn all sorts of things. and there're times she falters; close as they've gotten, she and traximus butt heads about plenty of things. trax often wants to do things right. nyx often wants to get them done. it can be a lot of fun to think about how she might have moments of pause and internal struggle when it comes to choosing to listen to traximus or a squad member over something and trust their judgement, or if she chooses to solve the problem in a way she knows "worked" for her in the past. she hasn't been 'fixed' or made 'right' now that the external conflict of the old republic and rebellion has passed. the internal conflict is still very much there, and it's an interesting thing to get to explore. as for the combat/tech elements, i'm still trying to re-design nyx's suit to better reflect her as an assassin while also leaning a bit more into a scifi greek/roman-inspired look instead of something more based in the triceraton soldier's uniform, personalized tech included. i also want her to have a very distinct way she holds herself when ""working"" that makes her appear even more alien compared to the postures of triceraton soldiers. like, the ones we see in-series hold themselves similarly to how soldiers as we know them might--straight posture, kinda stiff, upright, grounded footing, etc. but when i picture nyxram, i tend to see her with her weight more on her toes/balls of her feet, and her posture slightly hunched with a wider stance. ...more 'dinosaur' or bird-like elements to her gait, presence, and overall silhouette, making her intimidating in a new and different way. "i've never seen a triceraton move like that", other races might mutter. ...some triceratons, too.

[blapis-blazuli]

I was originally gonna add this to the original post, but I wound up making this its own post. Oops? (Context for everyone else.)

I'm not at all surprised that you don't know who this character is, Disney pretty much never acknowledges the movie he's from. I've been trying to pin down where to start with him, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that would require me to explain the movie he's from, among other things. I will try to be somewhat coherent, but I make no promises.

So.

In 1995, the same year "Pocahontas" was released, someone pitched the idea for an animated supernatural Western movie where a timid cowboy confronts an undead cattle rustler. The original idea was well-received, so they started working on it. This movie was called "Sweating Bullets."

Except it didn't happen.

Okay, that's not entirely true: what happened was that it went through several changes from its original pitch to the final product. Unlike the detailed account of how "Kingdom of the Sun" eventually became "The Emperor's New Groove," I haven't found as much information as to why this changed so drastically. (Hell, I found out about all this completely by accident.) The best I can find is a mention of the inclusion of a baby longhorn calf named Bullets who wants to be more like a horse, and then sometime later someone else suggested the protagonists be three cows out to save their farm.

So "Sweating Bullets" eventually morphed into "Home on the Range."

*sigh*

When someone claims animation is only for children, this is the kind of film that I imagine they're thinking of. This came out during "Disney's Second Dark Age," and while it's not the worst animated theatrical movie they've made... it ain't good. I'm struggling to think of what exactly about it doesn't work, because there's quite a bit, and the more I try to focus on just one thing to mention the messier my thought process gets. However, unlike some people (coughdougwalkercough), I won't accuse the people behind making this film of not caring or putting no effort into this. I don't think the overall end result is good, but I will not deny that work was put into creating it.

While I'm at it, let's get this out of the way: this movie's reputation as "the 2D film that killed 2D films in the United States" is inaccurate. Disney was already planning on going from 2D to 3D films before this movie was released, and this was a convenient target to pin the blame on. This common misconception probably isn't helped by Disney doing what it does with most of its flops by avoiding mentioning this movie at all ever. (Outside of having it available on Disney Plus? To... I don't know, keep people from pirating one of their critically panned flops?)

I don't have a high opinion of the movie itself, but there is one thing I enjoy about it.

This is Alameda Slim. He's the villain. He's an awful man. I love him.

Slim was set to be the undead antagonist way back when this was "Sweating Bullets," and his backstory was that he died via being trampled to death by a stampeding herd of cattle. However, that changed because someone at Disney deemed it to be "too dark" and that they'd have to show blood should they go with that. (That and it'd give them at least a PG rating... which the final movie ended up getting anyway.) Keep in mind that the original pitch was made a year after the release of "The Lion King," where Mufasa fell off a cliff and was trampled by wildebeests, a similar death that showed little if any blood, so I call bull on that excuse (pun intended).

It's hard for me to determine when they made other changes to his character between the original pitch and the final product because, again, I've not found much info on the production. Given one of the old proposed posters, it seems like one aspect of his character has been there back when it was titled "Sweating Bullets."

Oh, did I mention that his yodeling can hypnotize cattle?

(Here's where I'd usually put a YT video of at least the audio of his villain song, but I don't want to accidentally get any YouTube channels in trouble with Disney. I'll say this: when I mentioned that there was a 2004 movie with more fat jokes about the villain in one song than there were in the entirety of Spider-Man 2? This is the song I meant.)

Fun fact: Slim's villain song required three vocalists - his voice actor for the speaking/singing, one professional yodeler for the higher notes, and another for the lower ones. That might be the single most impressive thing about the movie to me. (Another fun fact: if you listen to this dubbed in another language, odds are likely that the longer yodeling sequence of the song will be from the Latin-Spanish dub done in Mexico, all performed by one man.) Also, the lyricist for his song (and the rest in the movie)? He's the same lyricist for Disney's Tangled. It's crazy to me that Mother Gothel's villain songs were written by the same guy who gave us a yodeling cowboy villain song. (And "Love Never Dies," the sequel to Webber's Phantom of the Opera, but LND is a whole other type of mess.)

As you can probably tell from that alone, Slim is meant to be more of a comedic villain than a serious one, which was a bit of a departure from most other Disney movie villains around that time. That's not to say he can't be threatening, as he's very strong and has a pretty bad temper, a combination you don't want to be on the wrong end of (something his three nephews know all too well). His deal is that he disguises himself and buys up all the land owned by the people whose cattle he's stolen and sold off, his way of getting revenge on all the ranchers who fired him for not appreciating his yodeling talents. This revenge scheme extends to smaller places he's never been to, such as the home of two of the main protagonists.

He ends up getting defeated by a group of farm animals, including three piglets and several baby chickens.

No, I'm not kidding. Like, imagine the scene where Scuttle and those sea creatures mess with Ursula during the wedding in The Little Mermaid, but if she did nothing after Ariel got her voice back. Not a very exciting end for a villain, is it?

Despite his pretty pathetic defeat, there's something about Slim I just can't help but enjoy. I'm upset that Disney squandered the opportunity to add a literal ghost rider to their villain roster, but I still found him to be my favorite thing about the movie.

I think I might like him because he's got a couple things in common with other villains I've become fond of over the years. Ratigan's also a character with an ego who's out to gain power and has a noted temper, though he manages it better than Slim (up until that film's climax, anyway). Slim is also usually considered to be a more silly villain despite being behind some pretty horrible things like driving several people (and a colony of rabbits) out of their homes, which is kinda like how people see Eggman. And if I had a nickel for every time I've gotten attached to a greedy, egotistical, fat but agile, silly but also sorta threatening redheaded villain with the ability to control certain animals in an animated thing that came out in 2004, I'd have two nickels... Which isn't a lot, but it's weird how that also describes The Batman's take on The Penguin, right? Edit: My partner pointed out that he's got a couple things in common with Tamatoa too, namely both being in the "large, silly, and threatening" category as well as both having palette shifts during their villain songs and being a bit flashy. Felt like that was important enough to add here.

Also, Slim rides a bison named Junior. I know the idea behind it was likely "he's too big/fat to ride a normal horse," but considering how bison can be potentially dangerous, I just think that's kinda amazing.

In conclusion:

[acourtofthought]

About your last post.. I'm not even bothered in the slightest that Azriel didn't go feral for Gwyn during the blood rite.

Idk how many times it has to be said for them to finally get it but I and many others don't want Azriel to already pine for Gwyn. Tf is this? I never expected for Azriel to see Gwyn as a friend after ONE full conversation nor did I ever think any of their Interactions and eye contacts were romantic.

I want them to start from 0% to end on 100%. I'm satisfied with what we got. It's nothing romantic but it gives us enough hints that let's us know there is something small happening that will bloom later on.

I wouldn't have shipped it if Azriel immediatly went like "Oop- another girl to pine on? Welp, here we go again! Wait up my potential mate!!". He has already pined after one for 500 years, is pining after another who already has a mate... I'd rather have him be completely oblivious about the mating bond and his feelings and I'd rather have him see Gwyn as less than a friend for now to be able to see her as a person rather than love a stupid version of her like he does with Mor and Elain.

I never like to read books where the couples like each other from the start. El/riel having sexual tension already is also giving Sarah the opportunity to make another f*ckers to lovers crap like she did with Nessian. At least with Gwyn it leaves more page time to actually get to know each other first since they're not even friends.

I agree! And I wouldn't have even made that post because I do understand why Az hasn't gone feral over Gwyn if it hadn't been something they Anti's were constantly making posts about. We have precedent in SJM books where if a male is distracted by something else in his life, he isn't not always aware of having a bond with a female and also doesn't respond to her in the normal way a Mate might. Az's unrequited love for Mor and unhealthy obsession on Elain are taking up all the available brain space Az has right now. He's blinded by the things that are wrong with him so he can't see the thing standing in front of him that's right. I do think there are subtle hints that Az (without realizing it) is responding to Gwyn in a way that indicates she's his Mate but, it's not something so obvious that we're like "SEE?! HE KNOWS!" I think once Gwynriel is confirmed those moments will be the thing we can look back on and say, "I kind of thought this was a clue". I'm also not a fan of instant love. I need to see the progression in their feelings and that's something SJM usually does so well. I didn't feel connected to Nessian as a couple when they started hooking up but at least neither was pretending they were a fluffy, happy, in love couple right off the bat. And that's what E/riels seem to think E/riel is. Just so sweet and soft and in love and it all happened off page in someone else's book and it makes me feel like I'm reading about two 15 years olds experiencing their first crush who don't know how to have a conversation about anything real at all (insert green almost vomiting emoji here).

[hungrydolphin91]

X2 continues

Last we left off, my sister and I were about to get the final waymarker! ...Or so we thought, but Maxwell seems to be blocking the way...

On the GHS, Riddeaux tells Spirius HQ to 'get those Exodus scum on the line.' Sis: "And then Alvin's phone rings."

After learning about the hostage situation on the ship, Jude supposedly texts Gaius to bring him up to speed, assuming Gaius didn't accidentally delete the message. Me: "'Oops, hope that wasn't important.'"

I totally forgot that theres a timed part of the rescue mission, no idea what the consequence of failing is but we did get pretty close

In the end, my sister chose to hold onto fractured Milla as long as possible. Hoesntly, who wouldn't? It does give me hope about her accidentally getting the bad ending later, the same way I did >:)

Ch 10: Milla Maxwell The End Me: "It sure was."

My sister got me wondering, how the heck does Rollo stay so fat when he's always walking behind Ludger??? He's almost never shown being carried, and with all the world traveling they do he should be super trim

Leia has the one end of battle quote, "Strength is power! Wait those are the same thing." Which seems like a quirky Leia moment but became relevant later because...

I was arguing with my sister, who has insisted multiple times that she's gonna pay off the whole 20 million gald someday, to maybe give the bank more than 10,000 at a time so theyll stop nagging us for having over 200,000. Her: "But I need this money to upgrade our equipment! I just think it's wise to be prudent." Me: "Those are the same thing!"

The game gives you notifications when characters outside of the party learn skills, like Gaius for example. Me: "I hope the skill he learned is how to charge his phone."

Alvin will NOT stop telling Jude his terrible dad joke ("Job well done" "Eh, I prefer medium rare"). He needs new comedy material so badly.

Anyway this new joke somehow got combined with our old inside joke of every empty tunnel being an 'Alvin' for betraying our hopes and long story short I was asked to draw this nonsense:

We made it to the end of Gaius's second chapter (why did they put 2 hard boss fights in that one smh) where Gaius tells Tanner about the deaths of his 4 subordinates, who he only realized were actually his friends 10 minutes ago, then leaves, saying "This is the end of my story." Sis: "He's become self-aware, he knows his chapter is ending!!"

The last portion of debt has been paid, and Bisley wants to speak with us at Spirius. I'm reaaaaally hoping we get to Victor next time :)

master post here