#Gale force 5

[bisexual-rikku]

In the US right now, folks are putting in their votes for the next president, but I feel like you guys are ignoring the best possible candidate:

[heylittleriotact]

So two very dear friends and myself had an online multiplayer BG3 campaign called Gale Force 5 where the three of us each played a gnome of a different martial class and dragged Gale everywhere with us while being completely fucking unhinged (and naked).

I had to delete all my saves when Patch 7 broke my game, so we’re starting over tonight and I’m really trying to convince the team that three half-orc wild magic sorcerers would be a fabulous idea.

[strawberrychocotoast]

Cake Check Podcast Finale spoilers!

[shinynewmemories]

All the final lines of each part of every Hunger Games book

THG: 

Part I:

“Because . . . because . . . she came here with me.”

Part II:

Before I can stop myself, I call out Peeta’s name.

Part III:

I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.

CF:

Part I:

It’s my mockingjay.

Part II:

This is no place for a girl on fire.

Part III:

“Katniss, there is no District Twelve.”

MJ:

Part I:

And his blood as it splatters the tiles.

Part II:

That I’m of more use to her dead than alive.

Part III:

I tell him, “Real.”

[tadfools]

One bg3 fear….

[sgdlr]

so that was a lie!

[yashley]

i mean you know mentally im still here

[krikeymate]

I was thinking about Christina being absent a lot of the time, especially after Sam left, and it raised the question:

How does Tara take care of herself in the years between Sam leaving and coming back? Christina wasn't really present, so who bought groceries and stuff like that? Did Tara have to get a job? She wouldn't have been able to for several years because of her age, so did Christina just give her money every so often?

I imagine that her friends and their families helped out a lot, but at the same time I can't really see Tara accepting too much help (or even telling them to begin with), especially from adults/parents.

What are your thoughts?

I've mentioned here:

By the time their father left, Christina did nothing except drop off an envelope of money on the counter monthly and pay the bills. Sam learns to forge her mother’s signature to sign off on Tara’s medical needs

In my head, Sam leaving doesn't change that; Christina keeps to the routine. She pays the bills and leaves money on the counter.

We do know Tara does have a job at one point, at least the summer before senior year, because that's where she met Liv (and Vince). I imagine she did that to get experience and to start having some freedom of her own - she would have been 19 at that point. And no doubt to begin saving up in case her mother decides to kick her out. She's so unpredictable, Tara never knows what mood she'll be in: the one where she screams at her and calls her a parasite, or the one where she weeps in her arms telling her to never leave her.

I think Tara would have spent a lot of time around friends' houses - she doesn't like to be alone. Martha and Judy are always encouraging their kids to bring Tara around, always trying to look out for her - especially straight after Sam leaves, knowing that her mother wouldn't be around. They could offer her dinner, a sleepover, some snacks - but she won't accept more. No money, no clothes, no help at home. Tara shuts down the slightest hint of that. Judy helps Tara learn to drive, she allows that. She could never afford a car or the insurance, but she appreciates that she took the time to teach her anyway. Hicks feels especially protective of Tara, she could never help Sam. She feels bad that she couldn't intervene early enough to help prevent that descent, too busy trying to help Dewey with his.

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |7|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 3.2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

It wasn’t that long of a drive from your place to Sam’s apartment, she was surprised how close you lived. It made sense though, she had never seen your Jeep at the gym, even in the middle of the night, she figured you jogged there every time, it seemed like a thing you would do. Their apartment didn’t have parking, but it seemed you got lucky enough to get a spot on the street, Sam would have felt bad if you had to park further away and then walk all the way back to the apartment.

She led you into the apartment complex and up to her apartment number, which was on the top floor, though you didn’t seem to mind the stairs. There was an elevator in the complex, but Sam didn’t trust it, she had the image of getting into the elevator and then Ghostface attacking, only for there to be nowhere for her to run to or a way to fight back. You didn’t even so much as raise an eyebrow as Sam began unlocking every lock she had on the door.

“Are you okay?” Tara asked as soon as Sam walked through the door.

“Yeah,” Sam answered, giving her sister a small smile so she knew everything was truly okay.

“Great,” Kirby said, pushing herself off the chair in the living room. “I need to get back to my case anyway.”

“You stayed?” Sam tilted her head. She had expected Kirby to drop Tara off, maybe walk her up to the apartment but she definitely didn’t expect Kirby to still be there when Sam got home.

Kirby gave a little shrug and looked back at Tara who was sitting on the couch next to the others, except for Quinn, who Sam assumed was either out or in her room with a guy. “Figured you wouldn’t mind,” Kirby smiled. “Didn’t feel right just leaving them alone.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, I’ll keep you updated.” Sam nodded and followed Kirby to the door to see her out. When they got to the door Kirby turned around, looking past Sam and at you. You were standing a bit away, far enough to give Sam and Kirby privacy but not so far into the living room that you were invading the unknown space. “Are you sure you trust them enough to be here?” Kirby whispered.

Sam looked back at you, seeing you with your hands shoved in your pockets and despite everything that’s happened, you were still completely relaxed. “I’m not sure why, but I do,” Sam whispered. “Was there anything in their file that would indicate otherwise?” Sam searched Kirby’s face for any sign that you might not be as great as you seemed. She didn’t like asking Kirby about you, it didn’t feel right, like that she should hear about your past from you and not someone else, it almost felt like she was crossing a line.

Kirby sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Sam furrowed her brow and glanced back at you. It wasn’t a bad reaction, if there was a glaring red flag Kirby wouldn’t have even let Sam leave the station with you, not without warning her first, but it also wasn’t exactly a good reaction either.

“They’re special forces,” Kirby whispered. Sam nodded; you had told her that much. “Pretty much anything they’ve ever done is classified and way above my paygrade. From what I could make out,” she looked past Sam again. “They’re an exemplary soldier.”

“Then what has you hesitating?” Sam narrowed her eyes; she knew Kirby was holding something back.

“This is Ghostface, no one can be trusted.”

“Kirby,” Sam pleaded. Kirby’s excuse wasn’t wrong, it was completely true. The only people Sam knew she could trust a hundred percent was her sister, Chad, Mindy, Kirby, and as much as she hated it at times, Gale.

“I don’t know why they’re in town,” Kirby finally caved. “Their base is in North Caroline.” Sam furrowed her brow at that. “They do have a house here, have for years.” Sam nodded; she had seen that for herself. “The army doesn’t just let someone go off that far away from base, not when they’re active duty, they’re meant to be training or nearby in case a mission comes up.” Sam glanced back at you again to make sure you weren’t listening. “They’ve been here for a few months now, that’s not normal. So, something had to have happened.”

“Any ideas?” Kirby shrugged. “Right, classified.”

“Look, I want to trust them,” she gave Sam a sympathetic smile. “Them saving your life definitely adds points in my book.” Sam smiled at that; in the back of her mind, she knew that still could have all been a ploy though. “Just be careful.”

Sam nodded and said her final goodbyes to Kirby. Once Kirby was out the door, she quickly closed it and re-locked all the locks again before turning back around to you and the others. Despite the initial meeting in the hospital, she had a feeling this would be a long night. Tara was the only one who knew Sam asked you to come back to the apartment, she figured Tara would inform the others when she got home but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t still be caught off guard by your presence.

“So, we’re just inviting random people over when Ghostface is clearly out there?” Mindy asked.

Sam rolled her eyes. “Anika and Ethan are literally right there,” Sam said, gesturing at the two.

Anika didn’t seem too offended by the comment, but she did pout a little. Ethan looked around as if he were shocked by the accusation, despite knowing he was a suspect.

“And they’re not a stranger,” Chad said. He jumped up from the couch and practically ran towards you. “I’m so glad you decided to join us,” he gave you a big smile. “It’ll give us time to get to know each other better.” Sam flung her head back and closed her eyes as she tried to suppress a groan.

“How exciting,” you said, though Chad seemed to miss the sarcasm based on the way he was smiling and nodding along.

“I think it’s only fair,” Mindy said. She detangled herself from Anika and walked up to you, crossing her arms as she raised an eyebrow. “We deserve to know who you are if you’re going to be staying with us.”

“Is this how you treat all your guests?” You asked, looking at Sam and completely ignoring Mindy.

Sam put a hand to her head and tried to rub away the oncoming headache. “I’m sorry,” is the only thing she could think to say. You probably would be better off on your own, Sam knew that, if Ghostface had tried to attack you at your house if your dog didn’t scare them away you certainly would have.

“They’re a suspect,” Mindy continued, pointing at you. “We deserve to know who’s going to be sleeping in the next room.”

 “You probably think having everyone stick together, even if they’re a suspect,” you said before Sam could think of a way to get them to ease up on you. “Is the smart move, if everyone is together and one of the parties is the killer, then they’re less likely to make a move.”

“Yeah, what of it?” Mindy crossed her arms and straightened her back just a bit more. Mindy talked big with this kind of stuff, Sam couldn’t deny that Mindy knew her stuff when it came to horror and when it came to the Stab movies and the real life Ghostface killings. That didn’t stop the fact that Mindy was terrified, and she was trying harder than Sam had ever seen to put on this cool and confident front.

 “It’s a mistake,” you said plainly. You were blunt but it didn’t seem like you were judging them on their decision.

“You don’t think keeping the enemy close is a good idea?” Tara asked, getting up from the couch and joining the others around you.

“Not when you don’t know the enemy.” Sam flicked at glance at Tara to see her and Mindy already looking at her, as if they expected her to jump in. Sam just tilted her head and looked back at you, curious as to what you were seeing that they weren’t. “You think watching everyone means you’re watching the enemy. When really, it’s the exact opposite. Keeping the enemy close just means they know all your plans and where you are at all times.”

Sam sucked in a breath, that’s exactly what happened last time. They didn’t know who to trust, even after Dewey told them it’s always someone in the friend group. Everyone still hung out together, they all went to a party at Amber’s house. Sam still trusted Richie until the end, the first time she truly hesitated had been when she was in the basement and left him. Amber and Richie worked together, when one was pretending to be a victim the other was doing the killing. Seeing one of them in the same room as Ghostface made them all lower their guards around them, made them trust and reveal things to them.

“Kirby said you were a sergeant,” Tara said. Chad and Mindy both raised their eyebrows at that, it seemed Tara hadn’t revealed everything they learned at the station. “Who are you with?” It seemed she had picked up on the exact same thing Sam did.

“Army, special forces,” you answered, exactly as you told Sam.

“What kind?”

Sam raised her eyebrows, she didn’t think to ask that, she didn’t even know there were different kinds, she kind of figured a sergeant was a sergeant. She looked at you only to see you smirking, it seemed Tara asked the right question. “A weapons Sergeant.”

“So that means you know how to use weapons,” Mindy interrupted.

“It is in my title,” your voice dripped with sarcasm.

“So, you’d know how to use a,” Mindy bobbed her head around as she pretended to search for a weapon to ask about, “knife?”

“It is probably the most basic and common weapon there is, so yes, I’d say so.”

“Why don’t we make this interrogation a little more family friendly,” Chad said, slapping you on the shoulders in a friendly gesture before putting arm around you as if you were one of his buddies. Chad was smiling as he raised an eyebrow at Mindy who just rolled her eyes. When Chad looked back at you, he was met with your glare, making his smile instantly fall as he slowly removed his hand from your shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Sam couldn’t help but smile as Chad gestured awkwardly at the dining table around the corner. He pulled out a seat for you and then moved to one on the other side of the table at the complete opposite side of you. Sam shook her head and joined as Mindy took a seat next to Chad and Tara grabbed the seat at the end of the table, leaving the only seat left next to you for Sam.

“I apologize for my sister,” Chad started again, this time much more calm than he had been any other time he talked to you or about you. “When did you join the army?”

“When I was eighteen,” you answered.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” Mindy asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Hey,” Sam snapped. “You don’t ask someone that.” Sam knew she was being a total hypocrite, but you didn’t point out she had asked you the exact same thing just a little bit ago.

“You will never believe the night I had,” Quinn yelled as she entered the apartment, locking the various locks before stepping into view. “This guy…” Sam looked over when Quinn never finished, she saw Quinn standing just a few feet away, her arms still raised as they usually were when she was about to go into extensive detail about a particular hookup, but her eyes were locked on you.

“Well, now, who is this cutey?” Quinn said, smiling as she walked right up to you. You didn’t turn to face her until Quinn gently ran a finger up and down your bicep.

“This is Y/N,” Chad introduced you. “They-”

“Saved Sam’s life,” Quinn completed. “How dare Sam keep something like you a secret from me.” Quinn tilted her head; she was giving you her best flirtatious smile. Sam was trying to make her glaring at Quinn not too obvious. “Now, tell me,” Quinn stared right into your eyes. Sam couldn’t tell if you were falling for Quinn’s attempts or not, she was finding your composure and lack of reaction to things very irritating at the moment. “Is there a special lady in your life?”

You looked down and smiled, more to yourself than anyone else. Sam shook her head, hoping she hid the hurt on her face before anyone saw, it was clear you were thinking about a special someone. “You could say that,” you said. “Saved me more times than I can count. Can’t imagine life without her.”

Quinn pouted but took her hand off of you. “She sounds amazing,” Sam said, giving a tight-lipped smile.

“She is.” You turned to Sam and smiled at her. “You should know,” you nodded at Sam. “You met her.”

Sam furrowed her brow before rolling her eyes. “Your dog, really?” she chuckled. “That’s the special lady in your life?”

“Most important girl in my life.” Sam just rolled her eyes again, she shyly smiled to herself. She never thought she’d be thankful for Quinn’s relentless flirting.

“You have a dog?” Tara asked, her eyes lighting up. Tara had always wanted a dog when they were growing up but even before their dad left their parents never let them get one.

You nodded. “Her name is Artemis and she’s my battle buddy.”

“She’s a military dog?” Tara leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as she got more invested in hearing about your dog. You nodded once again.

“That’s so cool,” Chad said. “She goes on missions and stuff with you? Finding bombs, taking out bad guys,” he did some fighting motions with his fists.

“She did,” you explained. “She’s retired now but she still can give a good scare.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Sam scoffed.

“Well, I’m off to bed,” Quinn said. “Unless the soldier here wants to join?” she looked you up and down, making Sam glare at her again.

“No thank you,” you said.

“Can’t blame me for trying,” she shrugged. She winced when she turned around to head towards her room.

“Are you okay?” Sam called out, furrowing her brow.

“Yeah,” her voice went slightly higher. She turned around and smirked, “I started to tell you, it was a crazy night.” Sam let out a hum and turned back to the others.

Sam glanced at you only to see you watching Quinn walk away. It didn’t seem like you were regretting not taking Quinn up on her offer, more like you were studying her. When she heard Quinn’s door close, you looked back at Sam, and she couldn’t help but send you a questioning glance. You just gave a subtle shake of your head as if to tell her not here, which only perplexed Sam more.

“Okay, I think it’s time we call it a night,” Sam said.

Tara went off to her room with Mindy and Anika following her. Everyone was staying the night, and the girls tended to share Tara’s room while Chad always took the couch. Sam frowned, with you she’d have to figure something out, she didn’t want to ask you to stay with them and then force you to sleep on the floor.

“You’re not staying?” Chad asked, making Sam turn around to see Ethan gathering up his backpack.

“I-I have an early class,” Ethan replied, giving them an awkward smile.

Ethan’s looked around the room, but his eyes kept darting back to you. Sam glanced over to see you watching him with narrow eyes, your eyes didn’t leave him until he was out the door. Sam wasn’t sure if you were seeing something she wasn’t or if you were just even more paranoid than she was.

“I’ll take the floor,” Chad said, getting up from the table.

“No, no,” you said, shaking your head. “Take the couch.” Chad opened his mouth, clearly ready to object but you beat him to it. “I’m serious.” Chad sighed and got comfortable on the couch, pulling the blanket they had draped over the back down on top of himself.

“You can take my bed,” Sam said. “I’ll take the floor.”

“No,” you waved her off. “It’s fine.”

“Please, I’ve already inconvenienced you enough.”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” you stood up from the table. “Besides, the floor’s more comfortable anyway.” Sam searched your face for any evidence of a lie, but it didn’t appear you were.

“Fine,” Sam reluctantly agreed. “But let me help change your bandage first.”

You sighed but sat back down at the table. Sam smiled and ran off to grab some clean bandages. When she came back, she took a seat next to you and you lifted your shirt to reveal your wound. As gently as she could she peeled off the dirty bandage, she could feel your breath hitch as her fingers brushed against your skin.

“I’m sorry about my friends,” Sam whispered again. “Thank you for putting up with them.” Sam placed the clean bandage over your stitches and lightly pressed the edges to make sure it would stick.

“It’s not problem,” you whispered back, pulling down your shirt when Sam was all finished up. “If I may ask, why do you want me here?”

Sam made a fist, bunching up her jeans in the process. She looked up to see your eyes already on her. “You protected me, when you didn’t even know me,” Sam shrugged, letting out a humorless chuckle. “I just-I can’t explain it,” she looked down at her hand again and slowly unclenched them. “I think we’re safer with you around.”

When Sam looked up again, she was suddenly aware of how close she was to you. “No harm will come to you or your sister while I’m here,” you rasped out.

Sam wasn’t sure if it was you leaning in, or herself, or the both of you, all she knew was that you were getting closer. Her lips had just brushed yours; she wanted to close the gap and pull you in for a real kiss, but a loud snore broke the moment. You both quickly pulled away and glanced across the room where Chad was already passed out on the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” Sam rambled, shooting out of her seat, trying to create as much distance between you and her as possible. “I can’t,” she shook her head, but man did she really want to. “I’m sorry.”

Sam stopped when she felt you gently grab her hand. “Hey,” you whispered softly. “It’s okay,” you smiled. “Good night.”

“Night.” It took all her strength, but Sam pulled her hand away from yours and went to her room. She leaned back against the door as soon as she shut it, she couldn’t believe she had just kissed you, it was barely a kiss, but she wanted nothing more than to do it again. She knew she couldn’t though, not until this whole thing was over, there was a part of her that was still doubting whether they could trust you, she was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, there was no way she would get this lucky finding someone so perfect and understanding.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

[dekariosclan]

The new BG3 Evil Endings are out, and Larian does an incredible job hammering home this character is evil now and the world is dark, but I would have loved a single lighthearted option. A ‘goofy evil’ option, for those of us who would love to see our favorite characters get some sweet revenge, but don’t want them to become homicidal maniacs.

There’s 5 variations you can choose for origin characters after they take control of the brain—what if just 1 of them resulted in a little less heartache and a lot more humor? You pick this option and suddenly it’s not death & mind control & terror. Instead:

Astarion becomes a sleazy Saul Goodman-esque lawyer, sues the entire Szarr estate using very questionable means, and rides around Faerun in the carriage equivalent of a gaudy Cadillac

Karlach takes over Avernus, makes it into a combo Build-A-Bear / Disney Themepark and forces Zariel and all the denizens of the hells to work there

Gale overthrows the Gods, turns them into mortals and tells them they’ll have to do 1000 years of community service on Toril before he’ll consider reinstating their powers. Mystra tries to refuse, and Gale replies, “I do think you’ll reconsider…” then steps aside to reveal Tara wielding a crossbow

You get the idea

[meanbossart]

Because I love the idea of DU drow as a companion... how would you recruit him? Where do you find him, and what's his intro cutscene?

Hi, I've been thinking about this since I got this message :V

There's this nautiloid pod somewhere nearby the Owlbear cave right? So those things were just crashing all over the place, not just near the beach where the actual ship fell. I believe his pod could have had a similar fate and fallen somewhere off the beaten path.

Mind you that, In this scenario, waking up from the pod and onto the forest map would have been DU Drow's first-ever conscious minutes ever since having his mind wiped, so he truly has no fucking idea of what just happened - he just knows his head is in shambles and that he needs to survive for long enough for his memories to return, assuming they ever will. So, his immediate instinct would be to retreat away from where the people are.

I think underneath the bridge, where there's running water and some fauna/flora would be a good spot to find him. Players might take a day or two until they stumble across this weirdo companion and so they are more in the loop than he would be. You'd find a little blood-trail leading you down there, and eventually spot a fist's corpse with no shoes near the river - DU drow would be crouched down by the water washing blood off himself:

While the rest of the party may have been picked off random places as they went about their days, this guy was busy being dissected and put back together over and over again - and there's no way Kressa bothered to dress him back up fully before he was taken away from her (me allowing the man to have pants on at all is a mercy onto you all) so he begins with no armor, but to make up for that fact he's the only companion who begins with a great-sword, which he would have stolen from the fist.

When you approach he is perfectly calm, In fact, he doesn't seem all that there. He stands up and appears half-ready for a fight, but lets you speak first. You can either ask what he's doing here, or about the corpse. You get more or less the same answer to both:

If you successfully persuade him, he tells you with no particular tone of shame or remorse that you got him, he did kill him, however he claims he was attacked first. Whether you pry into his mind with the worm, or have a scroll of read-thoughts, you get the same narration:

"Behind the aloof facade, you find the drow's mind to be in a concerning state of disarray: dozens of thoughts racing, jumbled, all at once, each trailing into the next before you can catch a hint of substance. You don't find the answers you were looking for, just red goo."

You CAN however use speak to the dead on the corpse. If you do that, it's revealed that he is actually telling the truth; The fist found him and assumed him to be with the drow who raided Wakeen's rest. Otherwise, you have to either take his word for it, attack him, or leave him.

He will refuse your offers to join you/go to your camp until you reveal to him that you have been tadpoled - either through using the Illithid-worm option, or telling him upfront through normal dialogue. If you didn't peer into his head earlier, you will now, confirming to yourself and him that he's also been infected. Then, you can tell him you're looking for a cure, and he will agree to travel along. This gets you approval from Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion, and disapproval from Lae'zel, Wyll, and Gale.

If you attack, he's as easy a fight as any companion would be at that point. If you choose to leave him be/not tell him about your worm so he refuses to join, he will appear at your camp after two long rests, basically forcing himself to into your party unless you kill him. You find him hanging out around Withers and he tells you he's decided to travel with you from now on, and that he will make himself comfortable.

If you ask for his name, he tells you to just call him whatever you want to (cue like 5 joke dialogue answers - he responds to all of them with a snort and you get approval if you pick any flattering ones). Whatever you ask about him gets you a very blunt, vague response. If you have Shadowheart in your party/are playing as her, she implies he may be suffering from memory loss, finally prompting him to admit to it. Otherwise he only reveals this after a couple more long-rests.

[heylittleriotact]

This went about as sideways as I expected, as quickly as I expected.

Not me and my rl DnD crew (aaaand dearest pals 🥰) starting a multiplayer campaign in bg3 in which the three of us are all martial class gnomes. Oh god. This is going to go in… directions. I can tell.

What poor origin character is going to be dragged along with us? 🤔

[dailyrothko]

News!

From the Rothko Chapel

We are pleased to announce that the Rothko Chapel, which has been closed since hurricane Beryl hit Houston last July, will reopen to the public on December 17. The Chapel will be open during the following holiday hours: 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Tuesday through Sunday, December 17-22, and from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. December 24-January 5 (except on December 25 and January 1, when hours will be 12 p.m. to 5 p.m.).

Hurricane Beryl brought exceptionally heavy rain and gale-force winds that resulted in leakage through the Chapel's roof. Part of the ceiling and several walls sustained water damage, and four of Mark Rothko's panels were also affected to varying degrees.

Immediately after the storm, the Chapel engaged Whitten & Proctor Fine Art Conservation, one of the country's premier art-conservation firms, to lead the conservation analysis and assessment. The affected panels are now undergoing careful restoration at an off-site facility and will be returned to the Chapel once the work is complete, with additional information on them forthcoming. The water-streaked walls and ceiling have also been repaired and repainted.

"Since the storm, our focus has been on the complete repair of the building, the restoration of the damaged panels, and on the reopening of the building so the public once again has access to this beloved space for contemplation and meditation; said Executive Director David Leslie. "Getting to this point has been a true community effort involving an amazing team of art conservators, scientists, art handlers, volunteers, community partners, and Chapel staff, and we are very excited to reopen in time for the holidays.

The Chapel resumed its program season this fall at off-site locations and will host its first program in the Chapel - its annual MLK Observance, "Sick of War: Discussing Health Impacts of US Militarism" - on January 15, 2025. The Suzanne Deal Booth Welcome House, located at 1410 Sul Ross Street, remains open from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Sunday to provide information and hospitality to those who visit.

[bloodiedrogue]

PAINFUL VULNERABILITIES (5)

SUMMARY: When your past begins to blend into your present, you find yourself longing for Astarion's comfort.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,648

WARNINGS: ANGST, hurt/comfort, body horror elements, descriptions of torture involving a knife, panic attack, sort of made up Illithid lore??? (I promise there's comfort in the end, I'm sorry!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 5 literally doesn't have a prompt because this idea got terribly out of hand so let's just ignore that and enjoy the angst, shall we?

(Also again, a lot of people's tags weren't working so next time if you haven't fixed it I will be taking you off the list because taglists are a bitch!)

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

The nightmares start a few days later.

At first, they’re subtle. Wisps of darkness cloud your thoughts, leaving no memory behind. Silently it lingers, creeping through your skull in waves that inevitably crash against the shore, ripping you awake —leaving you breathless each time you’re left gasping for air in your dishevelled bedroll. When it happens, it always makes you jolt up to look around, trying to find the cause of your plague. The reason why you’re suddenly so wary to lay your head each night.

When you reach the Underdark they only get worse. 

What were once forgotten memories become recurring torments. Endless onslaughts of clawed hands that scratch at your flesh, pulling back skin in massive chunks that pluck excitedly at your insides. 

Thanks to the powers of the Illithid you feel every movement. Every poke and prod slips through you like a knife, cutting you down piece by piece until you’re nothing but a shell. An empty carcass of bone that’ll inevitably be harvested for a purpose far greater than yourself.

Or so she says. As you lie there, writhing in pain, blinking to shield the teeth that bear witness to your torture, you hear her whisper cool and quiet, telling you of your death. Of your fated downfall, and then of your— 

You always wake up before she finishes.

Before you can hear her utter the words you’ve heard a thousand times. Feeling the burn of your lungs, you stretch your fingers across your chest in remembrance, breathing in and out as the skin beneath your digits runs hot and you’re forced to forget the experience all over again.

When you reach camp that night, sore from the seemingly never-ending mushroom forage, you find yourself dreading the prospect of such sleep. Even through the exhaustion, the last thing you want to do is rest your head lest she arrives tonight, so you fight the urge, settling in against the edge of the fire. 

“You look tired.” 

You turn to look at Gale with half-closed eyes, offering him the softest grin you can muster before turning toward the flames. They seem brighter than usual. A decorative flash of warm-toned hues that make you blink and rub your eyes, somehow feeling even more languid. 

“Mushroom hunting take it out of you?”

You hum, making no move to look his way as you pull your knees to your chest, curling in on yourself for comfort. 

As much as you’ve grown to like Gale’s company, all you want right now is silence. A moment of peace where you can just stare into the fire and let your eyes burn from something other than the lack of sleep. Especially after spending the day alongside Lae’zel and Shadowheart as some poorly trained mediator. Just the thought of opening your mouth to speak feels like a threat to your vocal cords. The prospect of speech too much to handle, even as Gale begins to fill you in on his and Wyll’s misadventures with a nearby myconid colony.

“They’re truly such interesting creatures. Did you know…”

His voice falls on deaf ears, earning you nothing but a confused sigh once he realizes you’re not listening. Mostly because it’s not normal for you to just blatantly ignore your peers. 

“Are you alright? Need anything? Perhaps a drink or a—“

You’re standing upright before he can even finish his sentence, brushing the ass of your leathers before walking away, paying no mind to the curious wizard as he looks around the camp, catching the eye of Wyll who merely shrugs. 

It’s not like you to leave. To ignore a friend mid-conversation but your voice is gone. Lost to the void of constant intercession and a brewing anxiety that sits in your chest. As you walk towards your tent you can feel it shifting. Starting at your gut, everything twists to form a sickly sting. A stabbing pain that throbs within your abdomen, threatening to grow as you part the fabric and crawl inside, plopping into bed face first.

Despite your better judgement, you let out a low groan you’re sure at least someone hears causing you to frown, knowing that you’re better than this. Better than neglecting your health because of some silly nightmares. Better than letting the fear of your past get the better of you. Better than brooding about it. 

Turning to lie on your back, you palm the sockets of your eyes in frustration, letting your mind wander. Allowing yourself to feel everything you’ve been suppressing over the last twelve or so hours.

Aside from exhaustion, it’s mostly Astarion that surfaces. His face in the darkness looking at you as you left camp that morning, barely awake enough to give him a nod. In an instant it was as if he was there and gone, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place before shifting out of view alongside an overly excited Karlach. It was the kind of look that made you question its intentions. Its knitted brows and pursed lips rising and falling through your memories between the scuffles of your two companions. 

As you walked along the edges of the Underdark’s cliff sides, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it represented. What emotion it was trying to convey in such a small amount of time before it disappeared completely? 

As you lie there now, once again imagining its form you feel it’s something bordering on pity. A showcase of solidarity in your obviously failing quest for sleep. 

Astarion may not say much about your struggles —unlike him, you don’t complain about the endless problems that you face on the road— but you know he’s still aware of them. He’s too perceptive not to be. 

So why hasn’t he said anything? 

A heavy breath escapes. A shaky one damaged by speculation. Ruined by the assumption that it’s because he doesn’t care. That perhaps you aren’t worth the trouble of a little bit of worry despite previous actions.

You may have killed for him —had his back long before anyone else, but have such feelings ever been reciprocated? Has your worth been proven now that you’ve slain a man in his honour? And if so, how much worth do you truly hold? Is it substantial enough to ask you how you are? Big enough to look at you with any semblance of fondness? Or is it all just for show?

There’s a part of you that hopes it is. That the moments filled with kindness are nothing more than lies told to keep your attention. If he were lying, it wouldn’t necessarily make the way you feel right now any better but it’d mean that there’s an end. A barrier to stop you from getting in too deep. An excuse you could use to explain the naivety of thinking he may care.

Because it wavers —his care. Some days it’s obvious, sometimes it’s not. You can never guess when the care will appear, only that when it’s there and eventually dissipates you’ll be left alone again, wondering why he puts the extra effort in at all. Why he reels you in only to let you go, forcing you to question his intentions as you watch with careful eyes for those moments of reassurance. Moments that you can never prepare for. Ones that gnaw at your heart with pointed teeth wrapped beneath hungry lips, starving for the truth. 

You’re not too sure you’re ready to take that leap yet. To push him for the answers you know he’ll just avoid. He’s never been quick to trust and even when he does allow you in there’s still a blockage of sorts. An obvious resistance that sits between you, forcing you to settle regardless of the fear you hold inside your chest, wondering what would happen if you tried to push. 

You assume it’d ruin you. That, more than likely, pushing too hard would only create an even deeper wedge, making the truth that much more unattainable, leaving you with less than what you started with. 

Shooting upwards, you groan again and breathe, resting your face against your open palms in irritation. 

All you want to do is sleep, knowing the only reason you’re thinking so much is because you’re avoiding it. If you think you can’t drift which means the nightmares can’t come, leaving you with two bad endpoints you know you have to choose between.

It makes you want to scream just thinking about it but instead of giving in to such desires you merely settle back down, pulling the fabric of your bedroll up to your shoulders before closing your eyes. 

You’re going to get some sleep whether or not it kills you. Whether or not you have to endure the pain of a thousand deaths all at once before you’re inevitably woken up in a stupor of suffering.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift. One minute you’re lying there, counting your breaths like sheep and the next you’re out, filtering through a darkness that feels all too familiar. At first, it’s just there, coating your skin in nothingness. Lost to the void of slumber, you’re at peace for the first time in forever but as expected eventually the shadows unfold. Part to reveal a body of pale skin wrapped around viscous veins full of the blood of many. 

It beckons you almost immediately. The flutter of that icy voice saying your name over and over until you come to call, allowing yourself to move. Letting your feet guide you to her presence, you feel the waves and how they threaten to spill over as you kneel before her, feeling her grab your throat. 

Her fingers twitch and curl but never grip as she leans forward, offering you a grin. “You’ve been avoidant.”

You don’t speak. For a moment your lips part, feeling the presence of her thumb glide across the base of your throat but you don’t dare speak.

“You know it’s coming, my dear. You can’t avoid it.”

Your tongue moves to wet your lips while you blink, trying your best to let the visions of her angular face blur into the night that surrounds you, realizing she looks just as you remember her. All papery and washed out —a mere shell of herself now that you’ve gone missing. Her features drying out with each passing day you find yourself separate. 

“Come back to me. Let me protect you.”

You swallow hard and turn your head, feeling the nails of her fingers dig into your neck prompting you to cry out. 

She doesn’t let you do much else. Quickly moving on from the one-sided conversation to grab her knife, you watch as she mumbles under her breath, turning the blade between her fingers with a grin. “In untimely death comes timely renewal, remember?” she says, letting it ghost across your bare chest, pushing the edge against it until it breaks the skin. 

You barely feel the first insertion. As the blade dips through the layers of your flesh, the only thing you feel is her breath. The pattern of air that puffs against your face as she recites those aforementioned words, taunting you as she pulls it down. 

In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal…

As the knife moves lower, you repeat the words in unison like a mantra, struggling to get them out through gritted teeth as she works to cut you open. To slice your torso from the sternum down revealing countlessly re-healed bones and slimy organs that lie in waiting for her to pluck.

Hovering above you, her hands move to survey such handiwork, her fingers stroking the edges of your open skin before they inevitably dive right in, ripping you awake. 

You feel the pressure of her inside your gut before it really hits that it’s done. Shooting upward, you cough and double over in an instant, pressing your hands shakily to the ground in front of you. 

It’s the worst dream you’ve had yet. Longer than all the others, you can feel the adrenaline of it all penetrating your thoughts. Overthrowing every single anxiety you’ve ever felt as you sniff back tears, pushing yourself towards the entrance of your tent. 

Pulling it open, you look around the camp in desperation, catching the eye of Wyll who raises his brow, watching as you shake your head, slipping further into the ground.

Before you can even think he’s on you, reaching for your shoulders, asking you what’s wrong and how he can help. In response, you make no effort to reach back. To remedy your pain as you continue to shake and cry, sobbing out the cursed mantra through heavy gasps that leave him panicking. 

“Guys! Something’s wrong!”

As he calls out to the rest of the group, you quickly find yourself surrounded by familiar faces. All of them looking down to see your hysteria unfold. 

“What happened?” Dropping to her knees, Shadowheart’s the first to your side, moving her hands to cup your face before you swat her away, mouthing the words over and over and over again. 

“I don’t know!” 

“You don’t know?”

The two of them continue to bicker. As Wyll explains the way you crawled out of your tent, mumbling something about death, you force yourself to shuffle back, maneuvering your body so that you’re half sitting inside your tent again, watching it all unfold. Focusing on the confusion as Lae’zel and Karlach stand in the wings, muttering to each other words you can’t quite hear while Gale stares down at your mouth, watching the words you speak only to yourself as your eyes start to dart around. 

Surveying the rest of the camp, you wipe away your tears and try to breathe, forcing your mouth to stop its repetitions once you remember the ache inside your chest. 

Because of the Illithid, you can still feel her handiwork. Beneath your sweaty tunic, you can sense its edges burning —stinging from the aftermath as you press a hand to your sternum, making sure you’re still intact. Making sure your organs aren’t on display as you catch sight of Astarion coming up the path. 

He’s nose deep in a book when you see him, scanning the pages with interest before his eyes inevitably raise to see your nervous frame, curling into your tent. Then his interest fades. Evaporating into thin air before it’s replaced with fear. Genuine, heartbreaking fear that has him moving so quickly he fades out of view before reappearing in front of you. 

“What happened?” 

Just like Shadowheart, his hands cup your cheeks, gripping the plush as he lowers himself down, moving his forehead to yours. 

Unlike before you make no effort to push him away. Instead, all you do is frown and try to suppress the tears, clawing at his shirt with desperate pleas, begging him to stay. Begging him to tell you that everything’s going to be okay. Begging for him to lie and say he’ll protect you just like you did for him. 

Using your tadpole you beg him over and over again, letting the tears silently fall from your face, not caring that the whole party is watching.

All you need is him. In falseness or in truth, you don’t care. You just need him to ground you. To call you darling and to make you laugh. To make you feel like you’re something more than a vessel of organs one day destined for harvest. 

As your chest begins to heave, letting all the nightmares unfold all over again, you feel the tadpole behind your eye squirm in response, asking you to let him in. Without hesitation, you close your eyes and swallow hard, feeling his thoughts start to overthrow the visions of her and her knives and the mantra that sticks haphazardly across your brain matter.

I’m here, you’re safe.

For once it feels like a promise. A silent vow meant only for you as he ushers you further into the tent, saying something to your peers before closing it up. After that he readjusts the bedroll with gentle hands, always keeping a single palm against the small of your back, even when he guides you to lie against his chest. 

It’s the first time in weeks that you’ve felt safe. Resting a cheek just below his collarbone, you can feel your breath begin to return to its normal state. No longer ravaged by the panic of your dreams, it moves in and out, fanning the fabric of his shirt. 

“Was it a nightmare?”

You nod. Unsure how to explain it because, while it is a nightmare, it somehow feels so much more. 

“Of the past or?”

“Sort of.” 

He hums curiously, glancing down to see your hand slide up his chest to grip his shirt. 

“It feels like I’m answering a call.”

“A call?”

“Like there’s a person trying to reach me and when I answer I can… I can feel them.”

“Feel them?” 

You can tell he doesn’t quite understand. Not that you blame him for it. The whole concept of these nightmares still vexs even yourself. Leave you stumbling in confusion each night you find yourself awake, struggling to remember what’s real and what’s not. 

The nightmares are not as easily explainable as the actual torture you’ve endured. Especially considering that up until now there had been periods where the memories had died. Days where her face was nothing more than a splotch of white against a backdrop of black, slowly fading away. 

It doesn’t make sense why they're suddenly returning. Why your mind is forcing you to relieve these memories night after night. 

“Does your tadpole make it hard for you to dream?”

There's no hesitation when he says yes. No moment thought before his answer, making you wonder if maybe he too is experiencing these dreams. 

“I feel like it amplifies everything.”

Looking up to gauge his response, you can see the worry clouding his eyes. How his expression sort of fades into the abyss as his eyes focus on yours. 

“I dream of the past a lot. Of my life before this and… and I can feel it. Everything that ever happened I can feel all over again and it’s—“

“Painful.” His voice is broken. A crack in the mirror, shattering the often joyous image of his face as he looks away, blinking. 

Without even processing your movements you prop yourself up on your elbow, reaching over to grab his cheek and pull him back in. “I wish you didn’t understand how it felt.”

There’s a flicker of hurt that hits his face, enveloping his features before the previous sadness kicks in again and he’s reaching for your wrist, tightening around it. “Yes, well, not all of us get the luck of the draw when it comes to good lives.” 

“You should’ve,” you tell him.

He scoffs and closes his eyes, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “You’re probably the only one that thinks that.” 

You let your thumb explore his cheek. Let it move in soft circles, taking in the way it shifts beneath your touch. 

It feels strange to be this close to him even after all of the other intimate moments you’ve shared. Something about it feels softer, more honest than the rest of them, making your heart beat rapidly against your chest, threatening to burst. 

“I know it’s not my business but if you ever want to talk about it—“

He places a kiss to your hand, letting his lips linger against the pad of your thumb as he closes his eyes, reaching around to grip your waist. 

In an instant, the words drift out of your mind once you feel it; lost to a touch you didn’t realize you longed for.

Swallowing hard you lay back down to look away, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the tender image that unfolds as his arm shifts again, accommodating your movement. Making you feel that rush of comfort return as he pulls his mouth away and clears his throat. 

“I’m, uh… I’m not good at this kind of thing.” 

“Vulnerability?” you joke, earning yourself a snort. 

“I suppose that’s a word you can use.” 

“To be fair, neither am I.” 

You feel him shift to meet your gaze, looking at you with surprise. “Really now? I think breaking down in front of the whole camp just so that you can find me is quite the effort of—“

Before he can finish you clamp your hand around his mouth. “I was in shock, you bastard. I wasn’t thinking about my dignity.” 

Flexing around your palm, you feel him smile before he pulls away. “That’s good because there was absolutely nothing dignified about the way you looked at me back there. It was…” He trails off, his words catching in his throat for a moment before he clears it again. “You scared me.” 

There’s a moment of silence after that, lasting far longer for it to be deemed comfortable as you lay there, wide awake, wishing you could get him to talk to you. Hoping that maybe if you reach out with the Illithid he’ll answer your questions. 

Closing your eyes, you feel his presence in your mind already, vying for your attention in a way that has you both moving in closer, tightening your hold. 

Show me the dream. 

It isn’t a question or a request but a simple command that has you obeying —letting him enter your thoughts. Letting him stand along the sidelines as she guides you to the ground and cuts you open all over again. Letting him listen to the recital of words that are spoken behind two frozen expressions as Astarion pulls you tighter against him, placing his mouth to your forehead to stop himself from crying. 

-

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[tumbleweed-run]

Stand Still

(18+, Explicit) Kinktober day 5: sweat

You lay on your bedroll idly watching the clouds roll by above you. There were about three thousand things you should be doing right now but the message that you should get up was not actually traveling from your brain to your body. You were tired. Tired in a way that made it likely you’d end up curling up where you lay, armor and all, and falling asleep. 

There were still a few days until you reached Baldur’s Gate even at the breakneck speed you were all traveling at. Normally the first in the group, leading the way, but today after lunch you’d ended up falling behind. Your legs ached and between the pace your companions were keeping, the sun, and your armor you were sweating. 

Eventually, the distance between the new head of the pack, Karlach, and the last of you grew large enough that new safety concerns were brought up. The road had been forgiving so far in terms of ambushes but that didn’t mean you could let down your guard. So it had been decided with only minimal fuss from Lae’zel that you would make camp even though the sun was still high in the sky. 

A shadow passed over your face and you started, your eyes which you hadn’t realized you’d shut flew open. You sighed in relief to see Gale standing above you, body blocking the sun from your face. 

“Need assistance?” He asked one hand wildly gesturing towards you. 

Your eyebrows scrunched together until you realized he was referring to your armor. “I need a week's rest and a bath,” you groaned as you sat up.

“Unfortunately I cannot help you with the former, the latter however,” Gale began as he offered a hand to help you up,” there’s a stream not far off. In fact, Shadowheart is just back from washing up.

You took his hand and allowed yourself to be pulled to standing. Glancing over his shoulder you saw that Shadowheart had indeed bathed, long dark hair hanging damply around her. 

You sighed heavily, “not the warm soak I was hoping for but it will suffice.”

There was a quick stop at Gale’s tent to gather soaps and fresh clothing. There you also pulled off your armor leaving you standing in just your breeches and undershirt. Despite the warmth of the day you shiver slightly as a light breeze caressed all the places where your shirt was stuck to your body with sweat.

The stream was perhaps closer in size to a small, slow-moving river. The water was clean and clear with plenty of brush and trees obscuring banks from the camp beyond. There were large rocks jutting from the water, smooth and worn from times when the water had breached its boundaries. 

Eagerly you pulled off your boots and seated yourself on a rock, feet dangling into the cool water below. You hadn’t bothered to roll up the bottoms of your pants and the water was slowly soaking up them to your knee. It didn’t matter, everything was going to need to be washed anyway. 

The sun was briefly blocked again as Gale joined you on your rock. He sat behind you, legs bracketing yours. Though he’d taken the time to shove the ends up to the bend of his knees. You idly watched his leg hair dance in the current as he shifted behind you to find a comfortable spot. 

Without thinking, you leaned back against him seeking to take advantage of these few extra moments of rest. You winced and scrambled to sit back up when the dampness of your shirt met with his relatively dry one. 

“Sorry, I should probably actually bathe before trying to cuddle,” you apologized. 

One of Gale’s arms snuck around you, pulling you flush against him. “I will have you any way you’ll let me,” he said pressing a kiss behind your ear. 

A giggle forced it’s way from your mouth. 

He sighed, theatrically behind you, heaving shoulder jostling you. “I did not mean it that way,” he grumbled.

“I know,” you assured, raising a hand and squeezing his arm that was still drawing you back against him. 

“Although,” Gale’s voice was teasing though he buried his head into the crook of your neck.

You laughed again, “aways so kind, even when I’m gross.”

“You are far from gross,” Gale argued and then as if to make a point you felt his tongue trace a quick path from just below your ear to the collar of your shirt. 

You ineffectively attempted to squirm away, but he held you tight.

“How many times must I remind you that I am quite fond of your musk,” he mumbled, mouth still pressed against the skin of your neck. 

“I wonder if that stretch of celibacy got to you,” your turn to tease now. 

Gale chuckled, the force of it vibrating against you. “You, my love, are what’s gotten to me,” he insisted pressing a kiss to your skin. 

His arm finally dropped from where it held you to your thigh, kneading into the muscle gently. 

“Gale, in daylight?” You gasped in mock affront. 

Another chuckle and this time you found yourself arching to neck to allow his lips more space to roam. 

“Perhaps I already made it clear to the others to remain in camp.” He began trailing kisses over every piece of exposed skin. 

You smiled at that revelation. Maybe you should have been offended at his presumption but you weren’t. Gale frequently went out of his way to ensure your privacy even when it didn’t benefit him. 

His hand had traveled up your thigh, fingers gently playing with the laces. You rested your hand on his before plucking the tie open. Taking that as his permission Gale quickly loosened them before diving his hand inside.

He didn’t bother trying to get beneath your smalls, instead opting to rub against you over them. Your legs spread almost instantly, one leg hooking over the top of his. 

“Fuck,” you moaned arching your hips up against his hand. You an arm snaked around the back of his head, holding him into your neck as you rocked. Gale didn’t protest. Instead, he alternated between pressing gently sucking kisses and lapping small stripes with the tip of his tongue. 

With each rock of your hips you felt him hardening against you which only spurred you on. He was absolutely insane the sole rational part of your brain suggested, finding you attractive in this state. It didn’t matter though, his body wasn’t lying and you couldn’t help but love him for all his oddities.

Gale withdrew his hand and you moaned at its loss. 

“Up,” he insisted patting the side of your hip. 

Reluctantly you let him go and stood, twisting so you could brace your hand on his shoulder as you did. When you were standing he guided you, with an impatience you couldn’t help smile at, to turn so you were facing him. 

He was quick to help you shimmy from your breeches, glaring at you only a little as you both struggled with the damp legs. They were briskly discarded in the direction of the bank though you didn’t know if they’d actually made it. Your smalls were next to be shimmied down and then tossed. Until you were left standing naked from the waist down before him. 

He grabbed you by the hips and pulled until you were straddling him so close you could feel his puffs of breath on your cunt. 

“Shit,” you breathed, hand instinctively clutching at his hair. 

He balanced you with both hands on your ass, forearms bracing your thighs as he drew you in to close the gap. Gale’s mouth was on you with no further warning, tongue darting out to press between your folds. He was lapping everywhere not just your clit where you desperately wanted him. You wanted to drag him there but the way his fingers flexed against your ass told you he wasn’t going to allow you to direct this. 

That final ration part of your brain, the one slowly suffocating as the words Gale and please became the only things you could thing, realized you were standing precariously on a rock. One wrong move and you’d go flying into the water below. At least it was deep enough you weren’t likely to get seriously hurt if you did. 

Gale’s teeth ghosted across your clit causing all other coherent thoughts to flee from your brain. You were reduced to moans and whimpers as you ineffectively rocked your hips against his face begging him to do it right. You knew he could have had you coming by now which meant he was torturing you for fun. 

“Please,” you whimpered. 

Then he drew back. You seriously considered violence until your eyes met his. He held your gaze for a moment before slowly leaning back in, continuing to watch you. When his tongue pressed between your folds this time, he was serious. He alternated between sucking at your clit and pressing maddening circles around it with his tongue until you were all but trying to climb onto his face. 

When your orgasm rolled through you, hands gripping into Gale’s hair to keep his face in your cunt, you shouted loud enough it was likely those back at camp heard. Your thighs shook until you collapsed. Gale skillfully guided you down so you were straddling his lap. 

“I swear if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll die,” you threatened through your panting, pussy clenching around nothing still. You needed him inside you.

“Insatiable,” Gale laughed as he quickly undid his own trousers. 

There was a few moments of awkward shifting as you refused to leave his lap but needed his pants pushed down. When finally his cock sprung free you grasped it greedily, shuffling forward on your knees. Gale realized what you were doing too late, hand reaching your hips to stop you as you already slid down on him completely.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, you’re too impatient,” he chastised hands pinning your hips to his, forcing you to give yourself time to adjust. 

You rolled your eyes at him, you’d been so wet there’d been hardly any resistance when you lowered yourself. Now you wanted to rock, you wanted so badly to fuck yourself on him that you were growing frustrated with him. 

Maybe it was the low growl that rolled from your throat that got him to release your hips, or maybe he too was finally growing impatient. But he released you and almost immediately you raised up on your knees just to sink back down his full length again. 

As you selfishly sought to continuously fill yourself with him, not interested in finding a rhythm yet, Gale set to work divesting you of the rest of your clothes. 

“Gods,” he groaned pressing a kiss to one of your nipples, “I cannot wait to take you home and make you ride my face for hours.”

The image that took up residence in your brain had your hips stuttering, suddenly now interested in finding a rhythm that would please both of you. His hands went to your hips in an effort to aid you this time and you let him guide you. 

He buried his face between your breasts, tongue tracing strange patterns. Curious you looked down and realized you’d begun sweating again and he was chasing the little beads that had dripped down your chest. You groaned hips rolling. 

“You’re insane,” you told him breathily. 

For once Gale had no response. He did allow his mouth to wander until his lips found your nipple again. He pulled it into his mouth and you moaned, head falling back. Your hand came to rest at the back of his neck, anchoring both of you. 

In that moment you could almost forget the tadpoles, the elderbrain, and the dead three. You could just exist in this space with Gale, his fingertips digging ever so slightly into your hips with each thrust, the sun beating down on your closed eyes. You wanted to remain here, like this, forever. 

The coiling in your belly quickly reminded you that moments never lasted. 

“Fuck, Gale, please,” you whined not sure what you were asking for.

He understood nonetheless. He took over then, fucking up into you. Hips snapping into yours in earnest. Each time it seem his cock buried deeper into you. You cried out pressing a hand between the two of you, fingers immediately going to rub against your clit. 

“Shit,” you cried, second orgasm crashing into you almost instantly. You lost balance toppling forward onto Gale. He held you tight, hips bucking up into you wildly now. With a groan he came, pulsing inside of you. 

After a moment he laid back in a move that was more of a collapse, bringing you with him. He tilted his hips in an effort to stay inside of you as you laid against his chest. Both of you trying to catch your breath. 

[caustinen]

HOLLYWOOD AU — MASTERPOST

john egan is a beloved heart-throb of hollywood known as the playboy of the century until he suddenly hard-launches plans to get married by bringing his boyfriend-turned-fiancé of 5 years to a premier and breaking the internet while at it. [modern multipart au!]

original headcanon

fake-instagram posts - john's profile, gale's profile, everyone else's

how they met and fell in love

first "i love you"s

the proposal & discussions before going public

domestic headcanons

how the reunion goes after being forced apart for a long time by filming schedules

gale's red carpet outfit drabble

media backlash/issues headcanons

jealous bucky drabble

how gale reacts to bucky doing sex scenes headcanons

pda video of them leaks and bucky freaks out (drabble)

candid pictures

doing a photoshoot together

doing a published photoshoot together (can be read as an au of an au)

oscars mishap (drabble)

stalker attacks gale part 1 & part 2

gale gets sick while bucky is filming on location

divorce rumors on papers

finding fancfiction about them headcanons

headcanons inspired by sabrina carpenter's short n' sweet, particularly please please please