#Gale winds

[katnissmellarkkk]

suzanne collins : “so in the epilogue of mockingjay, katniss only refers to her children as the girl and the boy-”

people who read with one eye shut : “BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T LOVE HER KIDS AND WAS FORCED INTO HAVING THEM BY THE EVIL PEETA MELLARK?”

suzanne collins probably : “because i couldn’t decide on two names i liked.”

[fascinationstreetmp3]

i wonder how many more people would've vehemently hated gale right off the bat on full release if his introduction conversation had stayed like this or something similar

[evan-buck]

DOCTOR WHO 2x02 Tooth and Claw

[adventuresofalgy]

"Oh no!" cried Algy, as he was hurled bodily into a frantic eleagnus bush. "Too soon, too soon!"

But Storm Ashley only replied gleefully "You ain't seen nothing yet!" as it laughed in the wildly bending trees while it tried its best to sweep Algy's feathers off his back and toss him from his precarious perch. And despite the storm's manifest faults, it was probably telling the truth, for the wind had only started to get up a short while ago, and the weather birds had warned Algy that it was likely to get a great deal stronger than this before it finally slunk away in a huff.

The onset of the storm had caught Algy unawares, despite all the many warnings, and as he clung on to the thin, waving branches as tightly as he could, for fear of being suddenly catapulted into the air and flung out far across the angry ocean, which was only a wind's throw away, he couldn't help wishing that he had been just a wee bit more prudent, and had taken cover before the tempest began, as he had been advised to do.

However, a fluffy bird is rarely very much daunted by anything as commonplace as a raging Atlantic storm, so where a mere human would be concentrating on how to get out of the wind and into a place of safety and comfort, Algy was busy trying to remember a poem he had once read, which described a gale very much like this one:

This house has been far out at sea all night, The woods crashing through darkness, the booming hills, Winds stampeding the fields under the window Floundering black astride and blinding wet Till day rose; then under an orange sky The hills had new places, and wind wielded Blade-light, luminous black and emerald, Flexing like the lens of a mad eye. At noon I scaled along the house-side as far as The coal-house door. Once I looked up - Through the brunt wind that dented the balls of my eyes The tent of the hills drummed and strained its guyrope, The fields quivering, the skyline a grimace, At any second to bang and vanish with a flap; The wind flung a magpie away and a black- Back gull bent like an iron bar slowly. The house Rang like some fine green goblet in the note That any second would shatter it. Now deep In chairs, in front of the great fire, we grip Our hearts and cannot entertain book, thought, Or each other. We watch the fire blazing, And feel the roots of the house move, but sit on, Seeing the window tremble to come in, Hearing the stones cry out under the horizons.

[Algy is quoting the poem Wind by the 20th century English poet Ted Hughes.]

[something-very-wrong]

Soundwave is at his best when he's secretly a freak, I think.

Yeah long suffering Soundwave is funny, but consider: he too is a decepticon. He wanted to be there. He CHOSE to be there. He climbed to the top just like Megatron and Starscream and Shockwave.

Soundwave is just as off it as the others, he's just professional about it.

[badjohnspeakeasy]

King uses his observation skills to spot a coincidence. Genos interprets it as a prophecy.

Link

[jetlaggingbehind]

pride month hasn't ended yet... hello vocaloid community

[peipakao]

shitty meme for chap 199

[cloudberriesforaqueen]

Love all these instances of Elsa and Pocahontas being next to each other 🤎🩵

They're both nature-loving girlies and are good friends with the Wind! 🍂

— ❄️🍂

[toxictwyla]

I squealed when I saw this. Had to share.

[cyberrose2001]

guys im cookin, im cookin for real

this cold, cold winter night is no enemy to me when i have the heat of this fic warming my little fingertips

all im saying is... y'all ever wanted to get indirectly fucked by optimus in the cab of his alt mode?

[oflights]

wip snip 6.1

i'm finally going to start posting my first bloodweave fic on friday (🥲 i know, i just love posting on fridays)!!! lol i did want to keep it under postable wip length but...if you know me, you know my struggle with word count. this is long 🙃

this is a no tadpole AU (pre-tadpole?? maybe?) where gale, a very Important chosen of mystra, comes to stay at the szarr palace to conduct very Important magical research; cazador agrees to gain a powerful ally and mystra's favor. astarion is sent to ~entertain gale (cw for canon-typical sexual coercion, and for cazador in general) and it does not go even remotely like he expects it to. here's a snippet from their not very cute meetcute. enjoy!

Astarion’s not entirely sure who he hates most in that moment—Cazador, speaking about him like he’s not in the room, or Gale, eyeing him avidly, his gaze scraping across Astarion’s face in a way that would make him blush if he were capable of it. Or maybe himself, for reacting to Gale’s attention like a blushing maiden, even if he can’t look the part.

Of course, he can’t blush because he’s bloody starving, and that really answers the question of who he hates most: Cazador, the easiest answer there ever is. That doesn’t make things better when Gale gives another short bow and says, “It’s lovely to meet you, Astarion.”

He holds out his hand for Astarion to shake. Astarion stares down at it, feeling his lip curl in distaste, and would let it hang there if not for Cazador leaning into his space, a tight, quiet fury alight behind his eyes.

Astarion sighs and takes Gale’s hand. It’s warm, of course, with a firm but gentle grip. His palm is rather soft, no doubt evidence of pursuits more scholarly than martial to go with his figure. He shakes Astarion’s hand once, twice, then lets it go with another nod.

“Have a good evening,” Gale tells him, and then he heads off towards where Yousen is hovering anxiously near a platter full of different cheeses. “I do love a good cheese plate,” Gale can be heard telling Yousen, his voice about ten degrees warmer, and Astarion can’t help a snort as Yousen smiles tentatively up at him.

“You are a disgrace,” Cazador hisses right in his ear. “An absolute humiliation.”

Astarion winces, bites down on instinctive protests—if he could just feed, perhaps he’d be able to muster up some more social grace—but Cazador cuts off the very start of his faint apology.

“No. I will not hear it. I should send you straight to Godey.”

The ‘should’ stops Astarion up—it seems inevitable that he’ll be sent there anyway—and he blinks at Cazador, who shakes his head.

“You don’t deserve this, but he seems to have an—interest. Consider yourself lucky.”

Astarion’s skin crawls. He glances over to where Gale is still talking to Yousen, presumably about cheese—but also casting glances over at Astarion. He whips his gaze away as soon as Astarion catches it, terribly obvious, and Astarion clenches his fists. Lucky, indeed.

“You will go to him,” Cazador says, nothing but contempt in the clear command. “You will please him; you will let him use you as he wishes. He so very clearly wishes. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Astarion says, gritting his teeth. He feels disgusting, empty—devoid of blood, of sustenance, all that lies within him is this.

“I don’t believe you. Repeat what I said.”

Stomach roiling, eyes now planted on the rich red carpeting beneath his feet, Astarion repeats, “I will please him. I will—I’ll let him use me as he wishes.”

“Indeed you will,” Cazador spits out, and then he stalks off, leaving Astarion alone by the sideboard, shoulders hunched and gaze stuck low.

The wizard doesn’t approach him again for the rest of the reception, which is as short as predicted. He eats his fill of cheese and meats, apparently unconcerned that he’s the only one. He chats up Leon, brightening visibly when he gets him to admit to being a sorcerer, but spreads his attention evenly—to everyone except Astarion, that is.

For Astarion, he only has fleeting glances, a brief nod every time they lock eyes. Astarion watches him shamelessly, clutching his disgusting wine. He wonders if he’ll be able to taste the better-quality drink on Gale, and supposes he’ll have to find out soon.

Both sooner than Astarion would like and after much too long, Dufay announces that the hour nears to retire, since Gale of Waterdeep must be exhausted from his travels. Gale agrees readily enough and bids goodnight to everyone in the room as they drift off, back to the dormitory or, for some, out into the night as instructed, bringing victims back for a party that’s already ended, a feast only for one.

“Goodnight,” Gale tells Astarion on his way out. His gaze lingers, almost searching, and drifts only when Astarion gives him a better approximation of a smile and says, “Until we meet again, dear wizard.”

Gale speeds up his exit a bit after that; the back of his neck is slightly reddened.

[meisterdrucke]

After a Gale, 1903 by William Trost Richards

[greyias]

[ CUP ]: bringing both hands up to cup the receiver’s face, the sender draws them in closer to them in order to get a better look at their face.

Pairing: Gale x Tav Words: ~4700 Rating: T, despite any indications to the contrary Notes: I have no excuse for this, other than it made me laugh. I’m very sorry. Set late in Act 2, after the infamous spider meat scene. I should probably add a warning for the arachnophobic: SPIDERS

The walls of the tent seemed to loom around him. Normally a tight fit for Gale to stand up, now even more crowded as he finished his preparations for the evening. He couldn’t help but glare at the confines closing in on him, not exactly claustrophobic but also not a location he would normally choose to stage a grand, romantic gesture. He briefly contemplated the merits of conjuring the elaborate illusion of his tower back in Waterdeep again — but no, his concentration was already centered on a spell vital for his plans to try and make up for his outburst earlier in the day.

And even if it weren’t an issue, his Waterdeep illusion required more from him than he had after the day’s battles and puzzle solving within the depths of the Gauntlet of Shar. Which in itself was hardly the most romantic location to woo one’s paramour. Unless one happened to be a cleric of Shar, but even then, Gale doubted Shadowheart would find their current environs particularly stimulating in that way. And it wasn’t like he was trying to woo her.

And perhaps he wasn’t exactly trying to woo his beloved—just more… apologize? His normally boisterous paladin paramour had been unusually distant and quiet with him the entire afternoon and evening, and the timing between that and his less-than-accepting reaction to the reveal of her, erm, unusual proclivities could hardly be a coincidence. So, logic dictated that he make a romantic gesture to show that he accepted her, unexpected predilections and all.

His scowl deepened as he fussed with the stack of tomes that normally lay in a pile next to his bedroll, trying to make for the illusion of more space in the already crowded tent. This corner had seemed like the perfect place to get them out of the way, but every inch really was at a premium right now, wasn’t it? Hardly worthy of the grand, arduous gesture he was trying to pull off. If only he had some vestige of civilization, a romantic suite at an inn that wasn’t one sliver of concentration from disaster. Although he’d readily trade for even half the space of a thin-walled room at even the Last Light Inn at this point.

Although, considering one of the harpers had specifically warned them away from sleeping in any of the actual beds because of a lice infestation in the mattresses, that would probably also put a damper on the romantic atmosphere. Although really, after a century long of the inn suffering from a shadow curse, how were those vermin supposed to have survived? Barring the arrival on the head of an unsuspecting Elturian refugee, Harper, or Flaming Fist, it didn’t make a whole lot of sense. The buggers would need regular blood meals to survive any length of time, much less a century—unless they were undead shadow-cursed lice?

Hrm, best not take the chance. The living version of the buggers were bad enough, and toss in an undead, necromantic curse on top would just be an additional nightmare to deal with. Perhaps it was best to make due with the limits of his current environs rather than—

“Gale? Are you in here?”

Musings on the merits of undead lice were quickly derailed by the call.Wait, no—it was too soon for the guest of honor to arrive. “Uh—yes, just a moment!”

Before he could reach the entrance to intercept her, Ari peeled back the tent flap and stepped inside, a gentle expression of concern writ across her features. “You’ve been cooped up in here since dinner. You even missed Raphael, he says ‘hi’ by the way, and you wouldn’t believe what those scars on Astarion’s back—”

She froze, statement ending in a lurch as her gaze whipped over to the shadowed, far corner of the tent. Her eyes narrowed, then widened alarm before she flung herself fully into the space, maneuvering her unarmored body between Gale and the perceived threat. An appreciated, romantic gesture in normal times, but not at all the way he’d been picturing this going. As her bare fists balled up, arm reeling back for a punch he found himself grabbing her wrist in an attempt to keep the evening from derailing completely.

“Wait—no! It’s okay!”

“It’s not okay, there’s a giant spider in your tent!”

“That’s just Llarry—he’s a friend!”

Said giant spider, who had been settled back in the far corner, was sitting as comfortably as an enormous arachnid could in such a cramped space, legs crossed as if settling in for tea. One spindly, furry appendage waved as if in greeting. Although perhaps the gesture perhaps came across a little more intimidating to the uninitiated as Gale had to redouble his grip on Ari’s arm to keep her from punching in one of the creature’s eight eyes.

“See, see, friendly.”

Her protective scowl gave way to a deeply confused frown as she hesitantly lowered her fists. “I’m sorry—Llarry?”

“Well, technically his full name is Llarraggathssinssrigg, but really, he only uses that in more formal settings. He much prefers to go by Llarry.”

“You named the giant spider infesting your tent?”

Llarry reared back, front legs now waving irritably as a soft whisper of discontent escaped his mandibles. Ari’s balled fists started to raise back up at the action and Gale forcefully lowered them back down.

“No, no, of course not,” Gale corrected before they could get off on even more of the wrong foot… leg… tarsus… claw… whatever. The correct terminology wasn’t important at this particular juncture. “You know he doesn’t really appreciate the insinuation that he didn’t have a name before this, and also, it’s not very polite to refer to his presence as an infestation—”

“I can understand him perfectly fine, Gale!”

Oh. Right. The spell for speaking with animals had been one of the first things she cast each day in order to properly give Scratch and their resident owlbear cub morning scritches — here he had to settle for a potion to try and arrange tonight’s events. Although technically Llarry would have understood his instructions regardless, but considering the nature of the evening, it seemed only polite to have a proper back and forth about expectations, boundaries, safe words and whatnot.

Llarry made a series of elaborate clicking noises, front legs waving eagerly.

“Yes, of course,” Gale said at the reminder, “how boorish of me. Llarry, this vision of loveliness trying to valiantly punch you is Aravyn, although she does let her friends call her Ari.”

Llarry's multitude of eyes lit up as he trained his hopeful gaze on the half-elf.

“I have known you for all of sixty seconds. I’m not sure we’re to friends status yet.” As Llarry drooped dejectedly, some of Ari's defensiveness melted. “But I suppose since we’re already using nicknames, fine. You can use Ari, I guess.”

A trill of excitement escaped Llarry, far higher in pitch than expected from a beast of his size.

Seeing that indeed they were not about to be wrapped into a cocoon of webbing, Ari's defensive posture relaxed slightly, although she hadn't quite yet moved from her protective positioning shielding Gale. She tilted her head dubiously at the giant arachnid taking up a full third of the limited space. “So, let me see if I understand this correctly.”

“Of course.”

“You found a giant spider in your tent after dinner, and then made such good friends with him, you’re on a nickname basis with him.”

“Ah, not exactly that,” Gale said as he tried to step around her, although in the limited confines of the tent there wasn’t much room to maneuver without manhandling her. “You see, I brought Llarry here.”

“I’m sorry, what? 

“Third level conjuration spell, really handy in a fight if you need some extra allies—but you know. I figured why not be a little creative, spice things up as it were, in a safe, controlled environment.”

“…what?”

“You know…” Gale trailed off, hoping he didn’t have to spell it out.

“No, I really don’t.” Ari glanced between the two of them with an expression caught somewhere between confusion and suspicion. “Explain it to me like I’m five years old.”

“Oh, this is hardly the conversation for a five year old.”

“Gale!”

The hint of irritation in her invocation of his name had him fiddling nervously with his collar. “Well, you see, I realize that things back in the orthon’s lair got a little unpleasant. And maybe I wasn’t as supportive as I should have been in the moment. But I love you, and I wanted to show you that I fully support your… proclivities. No matter how… unconventional they may seem at first.”

“Unconventional proclivities? How does a spider—” Llarry reared back with an affronted hiss at the rude generalization instead of his name, front legs waving irritably. Ari glanced at the display with a cautious frown before amending, “I’m sorry, how does Llarry fit into this?”

“It’s okay.” Gale abandoned fussing with his collar to give her an awkward but hopefully supportive pat on the arm. “It’s a fixation, we can’t help what we find stimulating. What one person may find a strange predilection, another may discover an unexpected fount of amorous adventure.” He ignored her trying to mouth the phrase in befuddlement, and instead offered an encouraging smile. “So as a show of good faith and open-mindedness…”

With his free hand, Gale made an expansive gesture at Llarry, who waved a giant furred appendage in a way that was definitely overeager to get the evening started. Damn it, Llarry, don’t get too thirsty.

Horror slowly dawned on Ari’s face, color draining from her usually rosy, freckled cheeks as she turned from spider to man. “Gale.”

“Yes, dearest?”

“Is this about the spider meat?”

“And there’s zero judgement here. This is a safe space,” he was quick to reassure. “The point is, I brought Llarry here to show that I want to make this work, unexpected kinks and all.”

Gale wasn’t sure what reaction he’d been hoping for was, but her slowly sinking to the ground as if her legs could no longer hold her weight was not it. Instinctively he made to steady her, batting away the giant spider arm that was also trying to do the same thing. Perhaps she was just overwhelmed at the magnanimity of the gesture, the whole-hearted acceptance of—

“I... I need a moment,” she said weakly, swatting both of them away as she hid her face in her knees.

“I… yes, of course. All the time you need. Although, maybe less than an hour? There is a time limit on the conjuration spell, so if you’d like to get started—”

Llarry eagerly extended a leg in her direction, and it was immediately shoved back.

“I said a moment!” she insisted more forcefully.

Gale quickly made a “cut it out” motion at the spider, who folded back in on himself into his cramped corner with a huff. He knelt down next to her, hands hovering uselessly in the air as he tried to understand this reaction.

“I have a feeling I may have made a miscalculation.” The opening statement was spoken at a normal volume, but the next was dropped to a whisper that hopefully only she could hear, and he did his best to not let any dread creep into his tone. “Does it have to be dead? Llarry’s pretty open-minded, but I don’t think he’d be particularly amenable to that arrangement.”

Not to mention that would be beyond the bounds of this particular spell. But baby steps. Unfortunately, his whisper wasn’t quiet enough as Llarry let out a noise that was neither disturbed nor eager. Intrigued? Oh gods, best to not contemplate that.

“Gale,” Ari croaked.

“Yes, yes, I’m here. Unless you don’t want me to be? Do I… need to leave the tent for this? Is this a private affair? I’m not sure how I feel about that, but I—”

She whirled on the spot, uncomfortably twisting as she grabbed him by the collar of the shirt and pulled him close, eyes wide as her voice raised loud enough for the entire camp to hear. “Stop! I’m not sexually attracted to spiders!”

“What—I mean no, not attracted to them, of course. I didn’t think that!” Not entirely. “Attraction and arousal are two different things. For example, some people like me get hot under the collar when they see a beautiful, strong woman tear a bloody swath through cursed shadowed creatures, and when you lick… rotting… spider… meat… you—”

“It was charmed!” Her grip on his collar shifted to his shoulders as she shook him fiercely. “The spider meat was charmed!”

Elocution left him. “What? But you—”

“It was laced with succubus spittle, Gale!” She fixed him with a wide-eyed, mortified gaze. “I wasn’t… I don’t get turned on by licking spider meat.” As Llarry proffered a tentative limb, she released one hand to shove it away. “Or any part of a spider!”

“Oh.” Gale blinked. “Oh. Why in the nine hells would anyone dope spider meat? With an aphrodisiac?”

“There’s no good answers there, Gale! None!”

“Oh gods, you don’t think Yurgir was—not with the displacer beast?”

“I have been unable to think about anything else for the entire day!”

“Okay, not to lose the conversational thread, but I want to be one hundred and ten percent sure on this point. Your titillated reaction was in no way genuine, and you do not have any desire to indulge in any arachnid-related fetish?”

“I do not.” It came out a defeated whisper as she buried her face into shoulder to hide her burning cheeks. 

Llarry slumped and emitted a dejected trill, his evening clearly ruined.

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“A relief?” She raised her head back up from where she was trying to hide from her mortification. “I thought you said you accepted me as I am—even the weird parts!”

“Yes, but that’s not a weird part of you is it?” He shook his head, then replayed back the words that he’d just spoken. “Wait—that came out wrong.”

“So you don’t accept my weirdness?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” Gale held up his hands defensively. “I love your weirdness, your unexpected nature—I just am a little relieved I don’t need to reserve a third level spell slot to summon a fey spirit in the form of a giant spider for you to salivate over if we want to get intimate!”

“What the fuck is going on in that tent?” Astarion’s loud voice drifted their way.

“Dark Lady preserve us, don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to!” Shadowheart chimed in.

Okay, that was unfortunate. Another issue to deal with at another time. 

“You—you didn’t use your sound dampening charm you created?” Ari whispered fiercely. “When you thought we were going to have a wild night of spider licking?”

“Look, Llarry requires a dedicated amount of concentration to keep on this plane of existence—”

“Oh, well if Llarry requires your concentration—”

The spider in question made an elaborate series of gestures with three of his appendages, clearly indicating that this was not a part of the relationship he had agreed to be party to.

“Please, Llarry,” Gale begged first to spider, then turned his attention to his girlfriend, “I’m trying here.”

“Trying what?” An edge of equal desperation tinged her voice. “Why, why, why why—” she caught herself, took a breath, then exhaled before finishing the question, “why did you feel the need to bring a giant spider into… this?”

“I already told you—I thought I hurt your feelings.”

“You did hurt my feelings—because you yelled at me!”

“And I was only yelling out of surprise,” he tried, oh he tried to stop himself from finishing the rest of that thought, but Gale of Waterdeep was nothing if not thorough in the worst of ways, “because you licked a dead spider!”

“I only licked it because it smelled weird and magical and off!”

“Oh yes, a great justification for supping a little essence d’arachnid — not to mention a sure fire way to pick up a food-borne illness.”

“Hey! I needed to investigate!”

“With your tongue? Did you see me putting ancient relics in my mouth?”

“Yes! I gave you several to stabilize your condition!”

“I—I didn’t eat them, I just consumed them, there’s a difference!”

“And that difference is?”

“Well, one involves a dead spider and your tongue—”

“You know for someone who’s claiming this was a safe space, I’m hearing a lot of judgement in your voice.”

“I’m not judging,” Gale insisted. “I’m just…”

Ari quirked a single brow, arms crossed as she awaited his explanation for why this was about his concern, not judgement. And this entire thing was a ridiculous misunderstanding as it was. Llarry let out a long series of very sincere, but chiding clicks.

“You’re not helping,” Gale muttered darkly.

“You have to admit, Llarry has a point.”

“I really don’t have to admit that.” He shot her a look. “And okay, let’s say I concede that inadvisable curiosity had you put your tongue on it the first time. But if you knew it was charmed, why in Faerun did you taste it again?”

Her cheeks flushed a deep, deep red again. “Because you yelled at me!”

“I feel like we covered that point already.” Gale frowned. “Have we reached a circle in this ridiculous argument? Or is it a spiral at this point?”

Llarry made a low inquiring trill, front legs gesturing in a fluid motion toward the tent flaps, as this was definitely not the fun evening he had been promised.

“Not now, Llarry,” both Ari and Gale  sighed in unison.

Gale scrubbed a hand across his eyes, a desperation clawing up and squeezing at his chest as this conversation, if it could even be called that at this point, seemed to spiral completely out of control. Ah, control, what a beautiful, deranged illusion to grasp for.

Words. He needed words. “It was never my intention to upset you.” That was a good start. “When you grew distant, avoiding my gaze… can you really blame me for wanting to fix it?”

She stared at him, long and hard in a way that told him without any words, that yes. Maybe a little blame was being directed his way. He couldn’t help but wilt some at that.

“I can see you’re mad,” he started.

“I’m not mad,” she insisted. 

“But you’re not happy either.” This really wasn’t going well at all. “Look, I may not have the cleanest track record when it comes to correcting mistakes in relationships. Possibly overcorrecting just a tad.”

“Just ‘a tad’? You don’t think this was a little extreme?” She asked softly, the trace of hurt in the question like a twist of the knife. “Instead of… talking to me first?”

“When you put it that way… I suppose going to such elaborate lengths without consulting you first was perhaps a little ill-considered.” The wounded look still lingered in her eyes, and he tried to swallow past that gnawing guilt trying to rise back up in him. “You just seemed upset, and you know how they say actions speak louder than words, and I know I use a lot of words.”

“You do,” she said quietly. “You know, the first time was out of curiosity.”

“I do feel like we’ve firmly established that fact.”

She shot him a look, but the heat in it was quelled by something a little more raw. “The second time wasn’t just because you yelled or the meat was charmed. It was what you said.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You suggested that we’d run our course.”

“I did no such thing,” he insisted, with a heat. “I would never—”

“You literally told me that, and I quote, ‘the time might just have come when you and I should split ways’.” After the verbatim recitation she dropped her gaze, looking anywhere but at him.

“That was a joke,” Gale insisted hotly.

“It certainly didn’t sound like one at the time.”

Again, she wouldn’t quite look at him, just like most of the afternoon that had started this whole sordid affair. Llarry’s eight eyes glanced between Ari, to Gale, and with a world’s worth of recrimination behind the action. Stupid summoned spider—why had he not let the damned thing leave the tent when they had a chance?

Spider voyeur be damned, he moved in, gently cupping her face and tilting it up so he could look her in the eye. He half-expected her to pull away, but she allowed the motion. The shuttered expression on her face cranked that vice around his chest one notch tighter, even as his thumb brushed lightly across her jaw line.

“I told you once that nothing would turn my heart from you,” his voice was naught but a whisper, but with no room between them, it might as well have echoed from the walls, “and that hasn’t changed.”

She swallowed and after a moment managed to summon the semblance of a smile. “Not even my unfortunate habit of sampling things I shouldn’t?”

“Not even that,” he breathed.

She let out a half breath, half-laugh in response, and this time when she closed her eyes it seemed to be in relief. It was a small win, but he’d take it, and the vice loosened enough so he could breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, leaning into him.

“Whatever for?”

“Overreacting?” she tried. “I probably should have said something too. I just… felt stupid about the whole thing. And you were just so angry when you were yelling at me to stop licking things.”

“I was concerned,” he insisted, and yes, maybe a little irked that he’d been ignored in the moment. “Maybe we can just chalk up this entire sordid affair to misplaced affections and intentions? I mean, I brought Llarry into our lives to prove my love, didn’t I?”

The third wheel cleverly disguised as a giant spider rolled all eight of his eyes.

“Don’t be like that,” he said, “it was a genuine misunderstanding. Anyone could make this mistake?”

“Anyone?” Ari asked.

“Okay, maybe just me,” he amended, “but I think it’s safe to say that you’re off the hook for the evening, my eight-legged friend.”

A woeful, keening sound left the spider, his large, bulbous head dipping low in clear dejection.

“It’s you not you, Llarry,” Gale insisted, “it’s me.”

The mandibles clicked in rapid staccato, intercut with distressed squeaking.

“Yes, yes, but given the new information we’ve all uncovered in this impromptu group therapy session, the parameters of our previous negotiations really don’t apply here.”

Another click, what counted as a huff.

“Come now, let me just release you from your service. You’ve got less than an hour left of existence, my friend, you should make the most of it.”

Llarry turned his octagonal gaze in Ari’s direction. 

“No.”

Now, spiders couldn’t exactly snort, as they lacked the nostrils to do so. However every single spiracle across his large hairy body exhaled their frustration at the same time, and with a decisive shuffle of all eight legs pounding against the rug-lined floor of the tent, Llarry waddled his way past the embracing couple and shoved his way out the tent’s front flap and into the camp beyond.

“Wait, Llarry, don’t be like that—”

Almost immediately, cries of alarm went up from the rest of the party going about their evening, Scratch let out a loud growl as the owlbear cub screeched a warning. The clang of metal against stone indicated that someone had taken a swipe at the vorekink-friendly spider — and missed.

“Oh no,” Ari murmured, starting to move towards the tent flap to try and save their weird relationship counselor, “Llarry!”

“He’s up in the rafters already!” That seemed to be Lae’zel, presumably the one that had tried to cut the poor dejected spider in two. “Damn it elf, can’t you aim your longbow better?”

“It’s not my fault he’s faster than a Quickling on a sugar high!” Astarion snapped back.

“Okay, am I going crazy,” Karlach asked loudly, “or was that spider crying?”

“Leave that poor spider alone,” Wyll, ever the voice of reason, tried to bring peace and order back into their lives. Bless him. He tried.

“Yes. It’s clearly had a rough evening,” Halsin rumbled.

“I guess he’s fine?” Ari winced, turning back to Gale.

“He always did have a penchant for drama,” Gale sighed.

“You’ve known him for less than an hour.”

“But it seems like a lifetime, doesn’t it?”

“Gods yes.” She buried her face into his shoulder again. “Do you think we have any chance of convincing everyone they didn’t hear any of this?”

“I’m afraid I’m tapped out of that particular magic for this evening.”

“Is there no justice in the world?”

“Modifying our friends memory? Probably not justice—I would say it’s morally dubious at best.”

Ari tried to sink her head further into the retreat of Gale’s night shirt. Unfortunately it was not nearly as voluminous as the folds of the robes he wore in the daytime, so there was not much solace to be found there. The muffled groan was the best she could muster. At that point, the tent flap shifted again and Karlach looked in, an eyebrow raised as she took in the sight before her.

“Soooo,” she managed to draw out the two-letter word out into multiple syllables, “you’re both alive I can see. Well, I mean we already kind of knew you were alive. Because of all the yelling.”

“Remarkable observation as always, Karlach,” Gale’s reply was dry, one hand busy smoothing the top of his mortified girlfriend’s head. “Can we help you?”

“Ah, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

“Is it?”

“Look, the gang—” At Gale’s quirked eyebrow, she amended, “—okay, mostly Astarion because he’s nosey as fuck, sent me in to ask what the hells is going on in here? I told him if the spider tent’s a-rocking, don’t come a-knocking, but he insisted…”

“Just a little… mutual misunderstanding is all.”

“Uh huh. You know, if you want to keep it spicy, there’s a lot easier ways than the five million fucked up scenarios I imagined listening to all that.”

Another pitiful moan left Ari, but it was mostly muffled by Gale’s shoulder. He gave her head a consoling pet.

“She okay?”

“No,” Ari’s words were muted by her insistence of slowly smothering herself in her boyfriend’s shoulder, “just let ceremorphosis take me now. I don’t think even my soul wants to remember any of this.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” Karlach insisted.

“Astarion will never shut up about this,” is what Gale was pretty sure she said, but it was mostly just indistinct mumblings at this point.

“Hey, first wise crack from Fangs, and I’ll cave his skull in. Then we can have Withers bring him back. No harm, no foul.”

“Except for Astarion’s skull,” Gale pointed out.

“You’d do that for me?” Ari mumbled.

“For you, soldier? Anything.“ She gave Gale a lurid wink. “Well, I’m just going to leave you two lovebirds to go ahead and smooth out any remaining ‘misunderstandings’ you might have. Maybe just put up that fancy sound dampening charm before you really get going, ‘ey?”

With that, she ducked back out, a chuckle in her wake. Finally alone, Ari emerged from her refuge in Gale’s shoulder, a red crease marking where she’d pressed her face particularly hard against his clavicle. “You’re really smart, right? What’s the chance of a rogue portal appearing and swallowing us up before we have to face the others tomorrow?”

“Alas, a statistical improbability.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

Gale tucked back an errant honey-blonde strand, attempting to smooth her now disheveled hair. “I think we might have to resign ourselves to being the talk of the camp, at least until the next insanity is thrown our way.”

She dramatically hid her face back in his shoulder, as if he’d pronounced the world was ending. “I am never leaving this tent again.”

[something-very-wrong]

The real problem with "are they a bottom or a top" fandom conversations is that everyone equates being a bottom with being a sub and being a top with being a dom. Also the whole thing is switch erasure because no one ever includes or considers that option.

BUT ANYWAYS.

Lamb is a Sub. There entire life they have been forced into sitautions where they were either in control or dead, so when it comes to the bedroom and they are with someone they trust they just want to let go and bliss out in. subspace. They were fighting for their life all alone for so long, and then forced into a leadership role they never asked for regardless of whether or not they ended up enjoying it. I think they would just want to be taken care of. All that aside, my version of the lamb is almost always either a sub or a service top. They like caring for others and being cared for.

Narinder is a Dom partially because of ego and partially because he has too many trust issues to properly enjoy subbing (most of the time). Even when he does truly trust his partner there is always that subconscious fear, for that reason subbing would probably be good for him but only after a certain amount of character development. I think there are times when the mood strikes and he needs the comfort of letting someone else take control and take care of him though, so he probably would sub occasionally once you get far enough into the realtionship (with the lamb)

As for the bottom/top debate they are both switches because I demand representation for my demographic. Also they are both top tier freaks. The absolute freakiest.

Shout out to @joffyworld because this post is based on that one post they made. Maybe i'll do the other bishops too idk. I think it would be fun but I also I don't want to copy Joffy too much.

[miradelletarot]

I wish I didn't have a 10 hr work day. I want to be home rn, working my sappy asf wedding chapter for Sagora and Gale.

They're crying.

A lot.

They are a bunch of hopeless romantics.

They are so disgusting with their love for each other, and I'm kicking my feet over it.

It's gonna be one of the fluffiest, sappiest, most saccharine chapter I think I've written.

... OF COURSE there will be smut after the wedding. They are gonna count the fucking seconds until they can rip each other's fancy fucking clothes off.

I can't work under these conditions. I'm supposed to be making invoices right now. Get me out of here. 😂