#Tara the ENABLER

[bharv]

okay so ask/prompt for you (whatever you fancy) ((my cat has inspired this one))

Glim discovering the joys of Tara deciding at 3am that she absolutely has to tell everyone something and she's going to shout about it until they listen

"Mr Dekarios! Mr Dekarios, it is absolutely imperative that you rise this instant!"

"Ow... Tara!"

She's been sat on their bed for at least twenty minutes now, starting with a gentle stroke of her paw on the sides of their faces, graduating to a couple of soft-clawed swipes. As Glim turns, she sees that Tara is sat on Gale's chest, a clawed paw right by his nose and a telltale red mark across his nostril.

"You must wake, and purloin some of those delicious preserved fishes from the pantry, and then you shall retrieve for me Essays of Inverse Novel Enchantments. It's on the second-top shelf and I've tried with limited success to knock it down."

"That would explain the noise, then."

Glim groans and buries her head in the pillow again. Every night this past tenday Tara has been on at them, and it is driving her to despair.

"Can't it wait until the morrow?" Gale asks, his voice slurred with sleep.

"Well, Mr Dekarios, if you are so lacking in curiosity, I suppose it can. However I think it may have the key to solving the issue we were facing around the centrepieces."

There was a silence, for just a moment. And then the unmistakable movement of Gale getting up and Tara's wings flapping as she dashed full-pelt to the door.

"No, come back to bed, don't encourage her."

"But she's right, this may solve our issue! Gods, but she is clever isn't she?"

"Your issue. I don't give a toss about bloody table decorations!"

He stops for just a moment, and she turns her bleary eyes to see him reaching for his nightrobe.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," he says with just a slight gleam of annoyance. "When our wedding is talked about for seasons to come, and the best magical minds in the whole of the Sword Coast - no, the whole of Faerun! - when they ask me who is responsible for such wonders, I will make sure they know it was Tara who committed her incredible mind to the endeavour-"

"Fine-"

"And not my brilliant, talented, intelligent wife-"

"Fine, Gale-"

"Who would much rather sleep away her genius."

"Yes. Yes I would. Tell the whole of Toril for all I care. Goodnight. And don't stay up all night, please."

She pulls the sheets above her head and tries her best to hold on to the pull of weariness.

[rooftopwreck]

Ferdinand Kingsley as Gale Dekarios, Wizard of Waterdeep, anyone?

Appreance-wise, he's got it all:

Big Brown Eyes like a baby cow's

Strong Nose

Rocks a beard and long hair well

Greying Hair

Lovely Smile

Looks good in "period" clothing

The list can go on! I know him best in his role as Hob Gadling in The Sandman, where he plays a charming and funny, somewhat arrogant yet self-deprecating (immortal) Englishman who deals with finding the will to live, humanity and finding the little joys in life. Sounds vaguely familiar.

His little face Scrunch

Professor Energy (his character Hob becomes a professor)

The Very Important Nose Boop 🙏

Do check out Ferdie's filmography ✨️ (or watch his scenes in The Sandman it'll take you 30 minutes and you'll Understand)

[kentuckycaverats]

For Del! 6.) What is their phone background/lockscreen? 18.) What was their worst injury? 40? Do they believe in true love? Have they experienced it?

6. this photo of her and tara's cat, hex:

18. she's gotten by pretty unscathed in game thus far - i think she got shot once (?), choked out once, and she's taken some hits in melee combat, but nothing crazy (this immortal lesbian sponsored by: celerity - blink! get away fast).

40. she's not a believer in "true love" in the sense of soulmates or like, people being destined to be together, but she does believe in romantic love. it isn't something she was actively looking for--her first and only relationship up until now was sabina, her gf slash domitor slash sire slash serial abuser, and del will never know whether her feelings for sabina were really her own, or just fabricated by sab to control her.

but tara!!!! ohh boy oh boy oh boy oh BOY oh boy oh boy. she's really in it now, that girl's done such a number on her. she brings out a softness in del that not even the coterie can elicit. they both believe that the other hung the moon, and tara is the anti-sabina in every conceivable way: she's kind, silly, unconditionally supportive, principled, gentle, protective, respectful of del's autonomy, and never tires of reminding del how special she is to her. it's the kind of love del has seen before--most noticeably between her adoptive parents--but believed for a long time that she wasn't built for or deserving of. she still doesn't know how she got so lucky. del would do literally anything tara asked of her without hesitation, and they both know that tara won't abuse that dedication.

[loving-n0t-heyting]

Dr Tara Hipwood, an architect and academic at Northumbria University, explained to me that “buildings have gotten much, much bigger, and there’s a much chunkier kind of grain to the city now”. These “deep-plan” buildings forgo courtyards and wings for big floor plans with great distances between windows. This makes natural ventilation nearly impossible. These buildings, Hipwood says, “are built on the premise that they will be mechanically ventilated”. In other words, ventilation and air conditioning have led architects to design without thought for the thermal qualities and air circulation of their buildings.

Nowhere is this more evident than in the mammoth glass buildings that feature on the London skyline. Sometimes it seems like air conditioning is the easiest solution to overheating in what Joe Jack Williams, a partner at Feilden Clegg Bradley Studios, calls a “magic box”.

the ubiquity of air conditioning in developed countries may drain energy throughput and exacerbate heat islands, but otoh at least they have also enabled the proliferation of truly hideous and soul-deadening buildings

[themournwatcher]

@cassynite and others

The memoir I read was called “Educated”, written by Dr. Tara Westover, and it’s a reflection on her family life and upbringing in a survivalist Mormon tradition; it touches a lot on difficult family dynamics and the struggle to get through life when disadvantaged. It highlighted a lot of my feelings about my family and how I resent them for homeschooling me and how I resent them for the increasing pressure to submit to Christianity or their worldview, and how if I don’t, I’ve been corrupted in some way.

I mentioned that it was about 500 pages not to gloat but because I haven’t really read a book since December, and I picked this up on a whim this morning and tore through it. At work. I’ve been crying off and on at my desk. The way Tara recounts how her mother is just parroting whatever wants to be heard by the person she’s speaking to rather than taking a stand? The difficult relationship borne out of her father’s declining mental health? Yeah unfortunately all of that sticks with me. 👍 read with caution, not because it’s bad or these things shouldn’t be discussed, but because it can be rough if you’re literally living it right now like I am.

Good news guys I’m never going to emotionally recover from this

[bairdthereader]

Nick gets a lot of (well-deserved) credit for being an amazing boyfriend to Charlie, and we know by now that he's a great friend, too. But what's almost more interesting to me is the underlying core personality trait that enables him to be both of those things--his emotional intuition and intelligence.

You see this in the comics mostly through Nick's facial expressions (no one can look worried like Nick Nelson can), but the show takes it a bit further. He's incredibly in tune with Charlie almost from the get-go. Nick watches him for small emotional cues and recognizes what they could mean, most notably before the confrontation with Ben after rugby practice. He reads between the lines of Charlie's deflections and falsely cheerful texts and pushes (with trademark Nick Nelson sensitivity) for the truth. He notices when Charlie is beset with intrusive thoughts, even if he doesn't know (at least early on) what they're about, and proceeds to interrupt those thoughts. He can read Charlie so well not only because he pays attention, real attention, but because he already has the emotional intuition required to interpret Charlie's inner complexities.

There are many moments throughout the show where we see Nick display this keen insight with everyone in his life, not just Charlie. When Elle, who he barely knows at this point, is upset about being set up with Tao, he immediately seeks to alleviate her distress by offering a true explanation of why she and Tao were invited in the first place--to be part of a triple date. He wants Elle to know that it was important to him (and Charlie, Tara, and Darcy) that she and Tao be there not just to try to set them up, but because they wanted to include them in an important step for both couples (Nick and Charlie just beginning to share their relationship, and Tara and Darcy trying to find acceptance after coming out as a couple). Nick knows that Elle values truth and honesty, and he gives her that so she can feel comfortable with her friends again.

Nick is also incredibly understanding of Tao, who, it has to be said, barely even understands himself for much of the show. There are a lot of scenes where Nick is trying to connect with Tao but maybe oversteps just a tad because he sees more of Tao than Tao is ready to have seen. The moment outside Charlie's house when Tao tells Nick about Elle's art college ambitions, Nick cuts through to the heart of the matter--Tao's concern about missing Elle if she's far away. Nick is the first person in the friend group to connect the dots about what Elle's college acceptance might mean for Tao, and immediately tries to help Tao process those feelings. He's met with anger, but only because he managed to hit a lightning bolt of a nerve in Tao's emotional storm.

And of course there's Imogen, who Nick has known for a long time but begins to understand and appreciate on a deeper level as their relationship moves from superficial connection to true friendship. He sees how sensitive she is, how lonely in some ways, and is always looking out for her, keeping a concerned eye on her. He gives her the space she requests, but also comfort when she lets her walls down enough to ask for it. His innate understanding of what people need--especially when what they need is just someone to be there--is impeccable.

It almost goes without saying, but Nick's emotional wavelength with his mom is similarly strong and nuanced. When Nick comes out to Sarah, he makes sure she understands how important it is to him that she knows--not only that she knows that he's bi, or that Charlie is his boyfriend, but that she knows him. That their relationship is so important to him that he can overcome his fears to share this most vital part of himself. Nick's value of Sarah extends to caring for her when she's dealing with the stress of having his dad and David around. Of course, Nick is still a teenager and there are a lot of scenes that show Sarah's deft handling of Nick's emotions, but it's a two-way street. Nick takes care of her in his own way too.

Nick starts his relationship with Tara and Darcy leaning on them for advice and guidance, but by the end of the show they're leaning on him. Nick sees their struggles, especially Tara's, possibly more clearly than anyone else does because he recognizes some similarities between their situation and his with Charlie. When they're in trouble, he knows Tara needs care and honest advice, even if it's not the most comforting advice. He knows that what they both need is strength and security and tries, in his careful way, to give them those things.

Nick Nelson, always looking out for everyone he loves, keeping them safe as much as he can, hugging them when he can't.

[johnny-depplyloveyou]

ICYDK, a workaround method to get the "Gale Dekarios likes you too" scene before Larian fixes the bug

Normally the dialogue option that led to this scene should be available if you bring Gale with you and have “Speak with Animals” buff on when you talk to Tara for the first time in Act 3 (btw, you could find her twice on different rooftops in the Lower City and buy magical items from her). Currently, it’s still bugged and can’t be triggered, and Larian has not fixed it despite people have been reporting this bug to them... So here is a workaround method to get this crucial scene to his character arc:

Requirements: Norbyte's BG3 Script Extender(console version): BG3SE-Updater-with-Console-20231028.zip (this is an old version with a config file that enables the console, it will automatically update once you start the game, or you need to manually edit the JSON file if you download the latest version from the first link)

After you talk to Tara on the rooftop in Act 3, don’t immediately talk to Gale, switch to the console, press enter, copy and paste the text below then press enter: Osi.SetFlag("ORI_Gale_Knows_TaraMentionedDekarios_9ccec403-dc18-661d-ed53-e5472b8145b4", GetHostCharacter(), 1, 1)

Talk to Gale afterward and pick the first dialogue option, Enjoy!

Edit: Patch 7 fixed the bug! The first part of this post is no longer needed 🎉

BTW, if you want to avoid the situation where Gale secretly still wants to become a God after seemingly agreeing to give up the Crown in the boat ride scene and then dump your character in the end, you can check the status of this flag to see if he's truly convinced after you finished his personal quests by copy and paste the text below in the console, if it returns a 0, then he's convinced and won't become a God, if it's a 1, you probably should redo all his scenes in Act 3 after you read the Annals of Karsus and choose more dialogue options that point out the Crown is dangerous, he is enough as he is and does not need to become a God, and kiss him when he protests, and choose less options that stay neutral or encourage him to pursue godhood... This flag is set to 1 as default, so don't panic if you check it before his Act 3 events, it's supposed to be that way.

print(GetFlag("ORI_Gale_State_SwayedTowardsCrown_76150a10-511d-4eeb-b263-46994bab0b48", GetHostCharacter()))

Update: for console players who can’t use the code above to check which ending they’ll get, there’s a way to check it! I made a new post about this, including a list of dialogue options that determine his ending result.

There’s a new mod that fixes the bug where you could not convince him to give up godhood even with a successful persuasion check at the brain stem, with this mod you no longer need to check this flag anymore!

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 23 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - the last part of this chapter is mostly taken from the first chapter with some additions. We’ve come full circle now! Things speed up a little now. Summary - Luke and the rest of the BAU make strides in their investigation. Meanwhile, Spencer’s paranoia reaches fever pitch and he makes a decision for your future which could lead to your inevitable capture.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - paranoid Spencer, mentions of past child abuse, pregnancy, Spencer giving up, swearing, guns, explosions.

WC - 5.3k

Chapter 23 - Catch Me if You Can

It was two weeks after arriving home from New York that things started to fall into place. 

Luke had convinced Emily to sign off on the request for extra security footage from Caesars Palace which had enabled him to track Spencer leaving the hotel room and into the parking garage which gave him a car licence plate of a Chevy Impala for which they’d had an APB out on ever since.

Luke had also discovered, through trawling police databases, two more bodies with similar MO’s to Green, Smith and Carlisle. Again it didn’t mean they were connected but it was certainly a pattern. Mary Dalton’s body had still not been found. 

But the strangest part had happened this morning when Luke walked into the round table room to find the rest of the team already there, a photograph of a middle aged man on the big screen and case files littering the table. 

JJ, Garcia, Emily and Rossi exchanged looks and seemed to be communicating between themselves without the use of words while Matt, Tara and now Luke himself looked on like the outsiders. 

“Uh, what’s going on?” Luke sidled up to a free chair but didn’t sit down, instead he gripped the back of it while his eyes flicked between the four veteran agents. 

“This man went missing two weeks ago. He left work on a Friday and was never seen again.” Emily pointed at the screen, her tone was a combination of frustration and dread. 

“Until this morning.” Rossi added. “Some campers stumbled upon his body in the Mojave National Preserve in California.” 

“He was stabbed forty three times.” JJ added, her brows pinched together. 

“Do we have other bodies matching the MO? Surely we haven’t been called in for a single homicide?” Luke frowned, still looking between the four of them. 

“We haven’t been called in at all.” Emily spoke again. 

“Ok, someone needs to fill us in because there is clearly something you guys aren’t saying.” Tara vocalised before Luke had a chance. 

Again the four of them exchanged looks, clearly trying to discern who would be the one to speak. Luke’s grip on the chair tightened, he knew whatever they said wasn’t going to be good. 

“It’s less about the what and more about the who.” Rossi ran his hand over his greying facial hair. 

Luke, Tara and Matt remained silent. 

“This,” Emily pointed at the screen again. “This is William Reid.” 

Luke’s eyes bulged a little, focusing on the photograph of the older man. There was something familiar about him, something in the eyes that Luke recognised distantly. And now he knew why. 

“William Reid.” He croaked, his mouth suddenly dry. “As in…?”

“Spencer’s father.” Emily nodded. 

“You think Reid killed his own dad?” Matt shook his head. “No, I don’t buy that.” 

“William went missing the weekend Spencer and Y/N were in Nevada.” Garcia rolled her lip between her teeth. 

“That has to be a coincidence. Why would he kill his father?” Tara sounded just as disbelieving as Matt. 

Luke stayed silent, unable to form any words that would be helpful in this situation. JJ let out a shaky breath, stepping slightly closer to the table. Her eyes were downturned, she looked to be fighting some kind of internal battle. 

“God I’d hoped I’d never have to repeat this.” She sniffed. “Years ago he confided in me. His father…he, uh, he sexually abused Spence. Probably other kids too. He told me once while he was high and I’m not even sure he remembers telling me. But I never forgot.”  

Luke, Tara and Matt turned to her with wide eyes and slack jaws. Judging by the lack of surprise on the faces of the other agents, she’d already imparted this piece of information on them. 

“Seriously?” Matt’s eyebrows were knitted deeply together. 

“Yeah, I wish it wasn’t true, trust me.” JJ swallowed, pouting her bottom lip. 

“Does this get us any closer to finding them?” Luke tried to stay on track and not get dragged into thoughts of a young Spencer suffering at the hands of his father. 

“This doesn't, no.” Emily shook her head. Luke sensed there was more. 

“But…?” He goaded someone to speak. 

“Garcia has finally found where they brought the Impala. It was a small used car lot in Cedar Rapids. Reid used a licence with the name Samuel Truman which we have attributed to multiple motel check ins across the country.” Rossi spoke. 

“It’s not yet pointed to where they are, but we’re getting closer.” Garcia looked at him with the most kindness she’d ever directed towards him. “We will find them, Alvez.” 

Luke felt a pit forming in his stomach. This was the closest they’d been to finding you and Spencer and he should be positive. But he had a sinking feeling that no matter how many leads they found it would never be enough. 

Maybe he’d never be able to free you from Spencer and it probably made him a fool for still trying. But he had to try and stay focused, and had to believe their break in the case would come. If he succumbed to the negative thoughts that were trying to consume him, he may never make it back. 

And he had to do this for you. 

***

Spencer had been on edge since you’d been to Vegas. His paranoia was getting the better of him, eating him away from the inside out. 

He was absolutely certain the BAU were involved in Jesse’s reappearance and he’d spent the last few weeks trying to piece together all the ways this could blow up in both of your faces. 

He kept detailed lists of all the ways the BAU could find you, any innocuous piece of information which could give you away. He barely left the house and when he did he was constantly looking over his shoulder. The Impala had been parked in the garage since Vegas in case it could be used to track the two of you down. 

He’d been anxious to say the least. He jumped when he heard the mailman, dashed to the window every time a car drove by the house. He wasn’t sleeping, nowhere near as much as he should anyway. You were starting to worry that he was devolving. And it hit a fever pitch nearly three weeks after your return from Vegas. 

You’d grown used to being alone in bed when you woke in the morning, usually finding Spencer in the living room staring at the front door with the SIG in his hand. This morning the living room was empty, as was the kitchen. And then you noticed the garage door was open. 

Padding inside in confusion, you found him slinging a suitcase into the trunk of the Impala. You folded your arms over your chest, a frown embedded deep in your forehead as you watched him close the trunk and turn to face you. 

“Oh good you’re awake.” He nodded at you, seemingly ignoring your confusion. “Get dressed, we need to leave.” 

“Leave? Where are we going?” Your frown only deepened.

“I have no idea. But we have to go. The BAU will find us if we stay still for too long.” He picked another bag up off the ground and opened the back door of the car before tossing it in the back seat. 

“So you’re proposing we just keep moving? We’re never going to settle down somewhere?” 

“Not for the time being, no. Once we’ve got them off our backs we’ll make a long term plan. Once they aren’t on our tails we can look into fleeing the country. But right now we have to keep moving, yes.” He spoke as though his words were making perfect sense.

“Spencer, we don’t even know that they are on our backs. You’re being paranoid.” You unfolded your arms and tried to reason with him. 

“I’m not taking any risks.” He shook his head. “They could come storming into this house at any minute. We’re sitting ducks, Y/N. I’m not making it that easy on them. So get dressed so we can leave.” 

The last thing you wanted was to constantly be on the run, bouncing from city to city and never being able to put down roots. But of course with the things the two of you had done that was never going to be a realistic path. 

You didn’t really think the BAU were onto you but there was a small possibility Spencer was right and running would be safer than the alternative. So instead of arguing, you simply nodded before turning on your heels and heading back inside the house to dress. 

Half an hour later the two of you were in the car and heading east, no real destination in mind. You were gone like the wind. 

***

Penelope tottered as fast as humanly possible towards the round table room, huffing and puffing and making little squeaking sounds under her breath. Her heels clicked against the wooden floor in the bullpen as she hurriedly made her way through the desks.

It had been a week since the discovery of William Reid’s body and nearly three weeks since she’d put the APB out on the Chevy Impala. This morning she’d gotten a hit on the APB from a speed camera on the I-95 as the vehicle headed east from

California. The team had been working all morning on trying to ascertain where you and Spencer might be headed. 

But Garcia had found the smoking gun. 

She quickened her pace up the stairs and along the corridor, bursting into the room at the end and desperately trying to catch her breath while the rest of the team turned to look at her. She fought to calm her breathing, still making strange noises and her hands were shaking. 

“Garcia,” Emily spoke somewhat sternly. “What’s going on?” 

“The thing…” Garcia panted, waving her hand in the air. “I found the thing.” 

“What thing?” Tara frowned at the blonde. 

“The thing. The thing we’ve been waiting for.” She took a few deep breaths, leaning against the door frame. “I know where Spencer and Y/N are.” 

Six sets of eyes widened on her as she tried to calm her erratic breathing so she could fill them in on her findings. Luke slowly rose to his feet and moved closer to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. 

“You found them?” He forced her to look at him and she nodded frantically. 

“The car…” she began between heavy pants. “Was seen just outside of Phoenix. And Samuel Truman just checked into a motel in Cave Creek which is like…thirty miles north of Phoenix. They’re in Arizona.” 

Luke’s arms fell back to his sides and he stumbled a little on his feet. He’d been waiting for this day but he’d never truly believed it would come. He glanced back at the rest of his team who were all slowly getting to their feet. 

“We found them.” Luke croaked, still sounded unbelieving of his own words.

“Well done Garcia.” Emily smiled at the tech analyst, before turning to address the rest of her team. “Wheels up. And not in twenty, now. Spencer Reid killed his father and Mary Dalton, probably more. We find him, we most likely find the murder weapon and we can build a case from there.”

“What’s going to happen to Y/N? She’s technically an accomplice, right?” Luke looked and sounded downtrodden.

“I don’t know, Alvez.” Emily shrugged. “But right now our focus is Reid. We can worry about what will happen to Y/N later.” 

With that Emily fled the room, the team following behind until Luke was left alone. It was easy enough for her to say they’d worry about you later but he hadn’t stopped worrying about you since the day you’d left the BAU. 

But he knew capturing Spencer was the main priority. And once they did Luke would continue on his mission of protecting you to the bitter end. 

***

You stood in the grimy bathroom of a seedy bar just down the road from the motel you’d stopped at on the outskirts of Cave Creek. You stared down at the item resting on the side of the sink through teary eyes. 

Since Vegas you’d been focused solely on Spencer and his devolution, you’d been so preoccupied you’d completely forgotten the thought Jesse had put in your head. 

It wasn’t until earlier that day when Spencer had stopped for gas and you’d found yourself in the bathroom on your knees with your head in the toilet bowl that it all came flooding back. While Spencer had been busy filling up the car you quickly purchased the test and stuffed it inside your purse. 

Now you were standing over the sink staring at the positive pregnancy test. 

It hadn’t even occurred to you to take the test at the motel. You’d stayed only long enough to drop your bags and then you told Spencer you needed some air before you found the closest building with a bathroom. 

You’d already been fairly certain of what the outcome of the test would be and you needed time to gather your thoughts and feelings before you told

Spencer the news. 

How the hell was this going to work? Spencer planned to pull out every trick in the book to stay one step ahead of the BAU no matter the cost. The two of you would be on the run for the rest of your lives, how could you possibly bring a child into that life? 

You knew he deserved to know, it was his child after all. But how was this going to factor into his escape plans? How would you and this baby fit into this? It was one thing for him to be bringing you along on this but a child certainly wasn’t part of his idea. 

You picked up the test as your tears overflowed. What did this mean for your future? If you even had one. 

***

Spencer stared at his reflection in the mirror, knowing it was only a matter of time. He’d told you he planned to run, and continue doing so until the heat died down but he’d been lying to you, something he’d promised never to do again.

But the truth was Spencer hadn’t fled California in the hopes of out running the BAU, he’d been purposefully trying to draw them out. 

He knew they would have figured out what car he was driving and would have a bulletin out on it. He knew it would only be a matter of time before the Impala was caught on camera and the BAU were alerted. He also knew they would have found where he brought the car which was why he’d checked into this motel under the same name he’d purchased the car. 

The fact of the matter was, Spencer was too tired to keep this up any longer. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life on the run. He’d accepted his fate, he just hoped you would understand. Although he didn’t intend to be around to find out one way or another. 

If he’d told you his true intentions there was no way you would have agreed to flea Twentynine Palms. He hadn’t wanted to lie to you again but this was for the best. As long as you were smart enough to talk your way out of everything, to put all the blame on his shoulders so you could get out of this and go onto live your life then that’s all that mattered. 

Spencer Reid wasn’t afraid of death. 

He wasn’t going to allow the BAU to arrest him, certainly not. But he knew you’d never willingly leave his side and so this was the only way he could think to get you away from him.

It was his way of protecting you. He knew you’d follow him to the ends of the earth and it just wasn’t fair on you. This was his only option to save you. 

It would only be a matter of time before the BAU had this place surrounded, he imagined they were probably already on their way here now. He just had to bide his time now. It was simply a waiting game. 

Come on guys, I’m making it real easy on you. Catch me if you can. 

***

The minute the jet came to a stop on the tarmac, six bodies were already standing and heading to the doors. Two SUV’s awaited them along with a few local cop cars. 

Emily was quick to dish out the Kevlar vests which they all hurriedly secured before splitting into two teams: Luke, Tara and JJ taking one car and Emily, Rossi and Matt having the other. Before her team could jump in the vehicles she gathered them around. 

“It is imperative we tread lightly here.” She looked at each one of them individually. “We apprehend them so we can make our case against them. Spencer’s not stupid, once we have them in custody he knows it will only be a matter of time before we gather enough evidence to send him down. Hopefully he will save us the trouble and confess to everything.” 

“Stop saying them.” Luke shook his head. “I’m not going to let Y/N go down for things Reid has done.” 

“And hopefully she’ll cooperate too and tell us what we need to know. But for now Alvez, she’s just as liable as Spencer. I want them both in custody and then we can go from there.” Emily gave him a look that told Luke not to fight her on this. 

He clenched his jaw firmly and took a step backwards. 

“Fine.” He spat, knowing now wasn’t the time to get into an argument with her about this. 

“Right, let's get this show on the road.” She looked over her shoulder and gave the local cops a nod of her head as the team split apart, hopping into their separate vehicles. 

Luke got behind the wheel even though he knew he was in no state of mind to drive but he hoped it would try and focus his mind. Tara got in the backseat while JJ sat up front with Luke. As he started the engine, he was momentarily halted by JJ’s gentle touch on his tense shoulder. 

“She’s going to be ok.” JJ told him as if she knew this for a fact. But her tone paired with the look she was giving him almost made Luke believe her. 

He nodded, exhaled noisily through his nose. And then he put the car in drive and peeled away from the airstrip, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. 

***

You watched as Spencer stumbled on his feet as the realisation washed over him. His eyes were flitting between your face and your stomach for what felt like a lifetime. 

When you’d dragged yourself back to the motel armed with your news, you hadn’t expected to tell him in this way. This news was so much bigger than these crumbling four walls. But you also hadn’t expected him to be on the brink of throwing in the towel, ready to give up. You had to give him something to fight for. 

The seconds seemed like hours as he continued to look between your eyes and your belly. Long, painful seconds in which you had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. 

“Say something,” you choked on a sob, hands coming to cradle your stomach out of instinct.

Spencer opened his mouth before quickly closing it again, rolling his bottom lip briefly between his teeth before trying to find his words once more. Again, he opened and closed his mouth, the only discernible sound was a small whimper he let leave his parted lips. His hands were noticeably jittering, his thumb tapping against the side of his thigh as if the rhythm was helping calm him.

You stared at Spencer, waiting for him to speak, begging him with your eyes to say anything, anything other than just staring at you this way. You watched his eyes flit from your face to your stomach and back again several more times before they finally settled on your eyes.

“You’re…?” He croaked hoarsely. “We’re…?”

“Yes.” You nodded, using one hand to wipe the tears that were hindering your vision. “Eleven weeks.” 

He opened his mouth to speak again but this time before he could get any words out he heard something off in the distance. Judging by the way your eyes widened, you heard it too. Your tears fell heavier and Spencer turned back to the window, creeping towards it and cracking the curtains barely an inch. The pitch black desert was lit up by the unmistakable blue halos, somewhere far off but certainly heading your way. The wail of the sirens quickly grew louder as they closed in on the motel. 

“Shit.” He spat, hurriedly pulling the curtains again and turning to regard you. “Shit.”

“This can’t be how it ends.” You held your stomach tighter, even more tears now breaking free. 

Spencer made quick work of crossing the room to you and placing his large hands over your smaller, delicate ones. His own eyes gave away to his fear, and if Spencer was scared you knew to be petrified. Spencer Reid was scared of nothing. 

“I won’t let it, I’ll think of something.” He closed his eyes like that might help him form a coherent thought. 

Wake up, snap out of it. Or you may well never wake up again.

His earlier conviction for his death at the hands of law enforcement had flown out the window the second you’d shared your news. He couldn’t exit this mortal coil in such a way, not now he had a child on the way. He was not leaving his child like his own father had abandoned him. There had to be a way. There just had to be.

It was funny how one simple thing could change his mind so drastically. Spencer had been sure he was ready for where this was heading, ready to stop running, to stop fighting the inevitable. He didn’t think anything or anyone could change his mind. But this wasn’t just about him or you anymore. There was so much more on the line. Getting caught suddenly wasn’t an option. 

The sirens grew louder and he could hear the gravel under tires as the vehicles got closer. The blue light of the flashing beacons bathed the room ominously, he could see it even behind his closed lids.

“Spencer!” You cried, jiggling up and down. “Spencer, do something!” 

His eyes shot open and landed on the timepiece hanging on the wall. As he watched the clock roll to midnight, Spencer knew whatever he did next he had to be sure of. If he wasn’t then the three of you might not make it out of this alive. In a perfect world, you would all get away, but as long as Spencer could secure your safety then he would have to be ok with that. As long as you lived to bring their child into the world he could worry about everything else later. 

But he had to do everything in his power for all three of you to make it out of this. 

“Spencer!” You screamed as the sirens reached fever pitch, tires screeching on the asphalt outside as multiple vehicles came to abrupt stops outside the window. 

The blue light completely encompassed the room, glowing harshly against your skin. Car doors started to slam closed and heavy footsteps on the gravelly parking lot got closer. He was sure he could hear weapons being drawn, sharp intakes of breath as the people outside his room took aim. 

“Spencer Reid, we know you’re in there.” A voice sounded over a megaphone, causing you to gasp in recognition. “Spencer, we just want to help you, please?”

Emily Prentiss’ tone was stern yet held the sadness of chasing one of her own. You looked petrified and that was only intensified when Spencer started smiling. He surprised you when he took off past you back towards the bathroom. Frowning, you quickly followed. 

“What are you doing? Spencer!” You chased after him and found him standing in the bathtub on his tiptoes and toying with a vent above the shower head. 

You watched in confusion as he made quick work of the four screws holding the vent in place before yanking it off the wall and tossing it aside. He turned back to you with a smile.

“You think I didn’t scope out an escape route?” He chuckled, holding out his hand for you which you took as you stepped into the tub. “It’s just big enough for a human body to fit through on their front. It’s a straight path, the vent on the outside is already loosened, I made sure of it. As soon as you’re out, you’re going to run. Run as fast as you fucking can and do not look back. I’ll take care of the rest.” 

“Spencer Reid! If you can hear me, you need to come out with your hands up!” Emily’s voice sounded angrier now and he knew he didn’t have much time. 

“What about you? You’ll be right behind me, right?” You grabbed his face in your hands, cloying to him like he was your only lifeline. 

“Don’t worry about me, princess.” He smiled, bowing his head to capture your lips in a chaste kiss as he placed his hand on your belly. “I need you to focus on yourself and this little one.” 

“Spencer, do not get yourself killed.” You sobbed. “We can’t do this without you.” 

“And you won’t.” He tried to insist, although he wasn’t entirely sure of that fact himself. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

He kissed you again, this time laced with slightly more passion. Then he took a step back in the tub, bent down and placed a kiss on your stomach. 

“Reid, if you don’t come out in the next sixty seconds we will breach the room.” This time it was Luke’s voice that permeated your momentary solitude. 

“Spencer, I’m scared.” You whimpered when he stood back to his full height. 

“I know. But trust me when I say, everything will be ok.” He wiped your tears once more whilst reaching behind himself with his free hand. 

When he grasped your wrist and placed his firearm in your palm, you gasped, shaking your head frantically. 

“Spence?”

“Take it, just in case.” He curled your fingers around it before ushering you towards the vent. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you from behind, closer to the vent opening. You turned your head and placed one last kiss on his lips. 

“I lo…” you choked, quickly correcting yourself. “You’re my partner in crime, Spencer Reid.” 

“And you’re mine. But I promise you I will see you sooner than you think.” He hoisted you higher and you tossed the gun up inside the vent before reaching out and grabbing the ledge. 

He knew it wasn’t a promise he could keep, you probably knew it too, but he hoped it helped in any small way. 

You pulled yourself up with Spencer’s help and wriggled onto your stomach in the small opening. When his hands left your body you suddenly felt desperately alone, wanting to immediately drop back down, fall into his arms and never let him go. 

“Go, Y/N, please. You have to go.” He encouraged you. 

“Thirty seconds, Reid! Don’t be stupid. Come out with your hands up!” Luke’s voice engulfed you both and with a small whimper you started to crawl forward down the vent, leaving half of your heart behind. 

Spencer bent down and retrieved his second weapon from its hiding place inside his boot. He only had seconds to pull off a miracle. If this went wrong he would be killed, or worse, arrested. 

Quickly stepping out of the tub and opening the cabinet beneath the sink he pulled out the large canister he’d stashed under there earlier in the day. It had been his back plan of sorts, if for whatever reason he changed his mind and decided to fight this. And now he was glad he’d had the forethought. This could quite literally blow up in his face. But he had to try, for the sake of his unborn baby. 

“Twenty seconds!” Luke yelled again but Spencer wasn’t perturbed. 

Taking a deep breath he uncapped the bottle and rushed back into the bedroom where he poured two thirds of it onto the strategic pile of clothes he’d left on the floor next to the bed. He walked backwards towards the bathroom, drizzling a trail from the clothes to the bathroom door. 

“Ten seconds!” Luke called once again. 

Spencer dropped the now empty container on the floor and stepped back inside the tub. He manoeuvred under the shower head and clambered up onto the lip of the tub, only just able to grip the edge of the vent opening. 

His hand shook a little as he pointed his gun over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes on his target. One false move and it would all be over. He had one shot to get this right or he would never have the chance to meet his child. 

He curled his finger around the trigger at the exact moment he heard the front door come crashing down and a flurry of law enforcement breach the motel. He took aim, he tightened his grip on the gun. 

He swore as he pulled that trigger whilst desperately trying to pull himself to safety he saw Luke step over the threshhold of the bathroom, seconds before Spencer disappeared for good.

He left his old friend with a smile. A smile that conveyed he had won again. And then the explosion rang out in the small room, wracking the walls as the gas was ignited by the bullet propelled from the chamber. 

Spencer forced himself down the vent as the heat from the rapidly growing fire started to fill the room accompanied by the sound of screams. 

He’d pulled out every trick in his arsenal to make this last escape. He didn’t regret a moment of it, not a single one since starting this crusade. Because everything he’d done had led him to you and your future child. 

The BAU never stood a chance. And his last thought and he pulled himself to freedom was, you’ll never catch us, mother fuckers. 

Feeling you closing in,

Brushing against my skin.

Make you betray your eyes

When I hide in plain sight,

That's just the way I win.

I paved my path,

Somewhere hard to follow.

Outplayed, outclassed,

I said…

Catch me if you can,

I'm gone just like the wind now.

'Cause once I plant my feet,

Taking the lead,

Better believe,

You never had a chance, no.

So catch me if you can.

I pull out every trick,

I don't regret a thing, no.

You're runnin' after me,

Chasing apologies.

When you can't get a grip.

I paved my path,

Somewhere hard to follow.

Outplayed, outclassed,

I said…

Catch me if you can,

I'm gone just like the wind now.

'Cause once I plant my feet,

Taking the lead,

Better believe,

You never had a chance, no.

So catch me if you can,

I only feel at home when I'm on the run,

I only open doors just to pick the locks.

Too busy throwing stones at your fragile thoughts,

I paved my path,

Outplayed, outclassed.

Catch me if you can,

(I'm gone just like the wind now).

'Cause once I plant my feet,

Taking the lead,

Better believe,

You never had a chance, no, hah.

So catch me if you can.

So catch me if you can,

Woo!

'Cause once I plant my feet,

Taking the lead,

Better believe,

You never had a chance, no.

So catch me if you can.

So catch me if you can.

@bubblebuttewade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom @nomajdetective @rebelliousstories

[alpydk]

Enablers gunna enable. @lanafofana & @tellmeallaboutit

A short fic of - What if, and hear me out, Gale's necrotic energy was actually radioactive?

The first time Gale died was an accident. The transmutation spell on the orb had backfired and almost instantly, darkness had fallen upon him. It was a day later that his soul had been dragged back to his body, an annoyed Tara lecturing him on the potential outcome of such experimentation alone. The dead gull on the balcony was nothing new, merely a result of the feline’s hunts.

The second time Gale died was on purpose. How long could he sleep in blissful ignorance before the necrotic energy that seeped from his corpse became a problem for the outside world? One day, two days? The third was where Tara placed the limit, too anxious at the spreading decay, the orb glowing angrier with each passing moment. They dared not test further.

The third time Gale died was a mistake. Tav had misjudged the sunbeam’s path, leading it through the enemies, but also through the weakened wizard. He’d hoped that the difficulty of getting the true resurrection spell from his pouch would have meant Tav was a little more careful with his life, but as always, he’d been expendable. They’d brought him back, for which he was thankful, and all had continued on their way.

It started as a cough, harmless and insignificant. Tav explained it was probably from too many nights in a cold tent and not to worry. The one chilly night turned into a grey clouded day at camp, Tav secluded to the safety of their bedroll. Something they’d eaten was the overall consensus. Gale observed at a distance, Tav’s pallor reminding him of the grey feathers of the fallen gull.

Shadowheart’s spells broke through the worst of the sickness, allowing Tav to continue travelling with them, but Gale was still weary. As Tav spat blood on to the road, it was justified as a recent bout of combat and a mistimed blow to the face. As Tav bruised like an aged piece of fruit, it was down to the battles and not the underlying sickness. As Tav stopped eating, it was blamed on the stress of their current situation, not the burning sores in their mouth and throat.

They went from strong and confident to a languishing shadow, a ghost of the hero he’d fallen in love with. Sunlit hair became as grey as the rain touched stones they trod upon and conversations of which healing spells to use soon became whispers of which rites would be the most appropriate.

Gale’s mind drifted like that of the Chionthar as the gulls flew overhead, their feathers light on the breeze carrying them to new heights. He wondered if they would reach Waterdeep, would fly over the head of his mother as she crocheted in her small garden. He wondered if Tav would visit with him when they were well enough. He knew this thought was an impossible dream, as Shadowheart called out to him.

Tav lay in his arms in the confines of their room at the Elfsong, the drapes over the bed blocking out the intrusive light. Fever had descended over their body, beads of sweat the only moisture they could tolerate. Once pink flushed lips were now cracked and bloodied, the colour that of the red roses he had longed to give them once they were back home. Vibrant skin now wept as he did, salted tears hidden behind a mask of tenderness, wounds hidden behind the mask of treatment. He told them he loved them.

….

…

..

.

The first time Tav died was an accident.

[amandacanwrite]

The Violet Thread of Fate Part One:

The Reclusive Wizard and the Cheeky Upstart

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Join Taglist

POV || Third Person, dual POV Gale Dekarios and Elinna Inklynn (Tav)

Pairing || Elinna Inklynn (Half-drow tav) and Gale Dekarios

Length || 5,500 Words

Scenario || In an alternative timeline for the events of BG3 Elinna Inklynn, an orphan from the Moonshae Islands seeks out the tutelage of accomplished wizard Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep. She has a knack with the Weave, but no money or connections to actually learn how to harness it. She has heard the wizard is a gentleman and a schollar, and hopes she can appeal to him to take her on as his apprentice in exchange for her help around his tower, with his research, and in running errands in Waterdeep. Unfortunately for her, Gale Dekarios does not take on apprentices.

Warnings || Age gap (Perhaps about 10ish years), depiction of depression and heart ache, description of very, very mild body horror.

A/n || I hope you all enjoy this very indulgent little fic I'm starting. I am already having entirely too much fun with it. Please keep in mind that while this fic will have a good amount of characters and scenarios from the canon events of BG3 I am planning on taking a lot of creative liberties and may leave out certain situations/characters for the sake of flow!

If you like this, you may also like my original works! I have a writing taglist that you can sign up for simply by commenting or reblogging and letting me know you'd like to be added. OR you can fill out this form if you'd like to be specific about which works you'd like to be tagged in.

Tag list || @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette @drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope @auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide

A Reclusive Wizard

“Mr. Dekarios, if you would just consider it–” Tara suggested as she fluttered alongside her charge. 

“Tara, no,” Gale said. “We are not dropping the wards and we’re not taking visitors. The orb is too volatile.”

“But, Mr. Dekarios–I’ve told you this isolation of yours–” 

“Tara–enough,” Gale shouted, exasperated. “You are my friend. You’re not my mother. I’m a grown man, who has done quite well for himself, might I add, and I don’t need your–your incessant fussing.”

“Mr. Dekarios!” Tara tutted, her whiskers perking forward with her disapproval. “My incessant fussing is what helped you figure out how to stabilize the orb in the first place, may I remind you. And if you so tire of my incessant fussing, allow me to divest of its burden! I may not be your mother, but your mother is a friend to me and will happily put me up.”

“Tara,” Gale said. “Wait–I didn’t mean you should leave–”

“I know that. But I am also quite aware that my willingness to fetch magical items and act as your little familiar has proven to only enable your reclusive habits,” she retorted. “Perhaps you will not listen to me, but when you run out of biscuits for your tea, perhaps you’ll see the reason in getting a little bit of fresh air…and perhaps a bath…and for the sake of the gods a shave.”

Tara flitted her way up to one of the high windows in the tower, pausing on the sill before leaving.

“Tara, don’t go,” Gale said, his eyes taking on a sort of sorry, piteous quality. “Please, just stay here.”

“Mr. Dekarios, those big glittering eyes won’t work on me any longer,” Tara said. “I’ve known you too long to be bewitched by your pouting. If you so wish me to return, you can come fetch me at your childhood home. The walk will do you well.”

And with that, she soared right out of the window, leaving Gale of Waterdeep entirely and utterly alone. 

Gale scowled up at the window she’d escaped from before sighing and smearing a hand down his face. He cupped his hand over his mouth and heaved out a low grumble, lost in thought as he often was these days. 

Perhaps Tara was right…maybe it was time to leave the tower. To engage in the ease of camaraderie at The Yawning Portal, reach out to the colleagues that had tried to pay him a visit in the year since his relationship with Mystra had come to an end–since this tangle of Netherese magic made a home of his chest cavity. 

But it wasn’t just the volatile nature of the orb that worried him. It wasn’t as if he thought a raucous night with his friends would trigger an explosion to level the city he called home. Even with the constant peril of the orb in his chest being destabilized by a too-strong emotion, there was a deeper fear inspiring the reluctance.

Gale Dekarios was used to being an outlier. Unfortunately, it was the otherside of the coin of being a particularly gifted wizard. As a child, it had been a source of ostracization. As an adolescent it made him the subject of many an ill-begotten rivalry. As a young man he had begun to learn how to minimize the isolation by compensating for the inevitable inferiority complex he inspired in others by learning to be charming and funny–to couch his corrections in complimentary language so that he could have some measure of friendship.

It wasn’t often that he could find people that could keep up with him or converse with him on his level–at least, not where the subject of magic came into play. But he’d learned to accept that and enjoy the company of other wizards–even non-wizards–in different ways. 

A game of lanceboard, the critical analysis of a book, a spirited debate on the merits of the shadow arts when applied to the correct endeavors. Now, as a man in his late 30’s with questionable knees, he felt nicely secure in his ability to play nice with others. 

But this new sense of separation–this insurmountable mountain between himself and the other–had been so very devastating to the life he had carefully cultivated. 

How could he listen to other people lament about their sordid love affairs, the politics at the academy–anything– with any measure of understanding or empathy? How could he confide in the people who he used to call his friends? 

He was alone in the tower, but he wasn’t certain he could face the profound isolation of trying to connect with someone about his condition, only to find them staring back at him in utter befuddlement. Or worse, with soulless platitudes and what he could only describe as foolish optimism.

Who could possibly make him feel better when there was no way he could ever feel better? How could he listen to the woes of friends and earnestly care about them when he had been forsaken by the goddess of the only thing he held sacred in his life?

He couldn’t. That was a the truth of it. And that was why he didn’t want visitors. He didn’t want to subject his friends to the poor quality of his care; didn’t want to expose them to this unique brand of selfishness and bitterness. 

He’d had enough of destroying things. 

But he also knew he needed Tara–not just because of the artifacts, but because she was his oldest and longest standing friendship. And because the tower, in her absence, had already become unbearably quiet.

And he supposed it had been a while since he last saw his mother…

He sighed and turned away from his mess of a study, climbing up the two flights of stairs to his bedchambers. Once there, he conjured himself a bath as he undressed, leaving his house robes in a pile on the floor before stepping into the steaming water. 

It smelled of bay laurel and lavender–an old combination that Mystra loved to use when they’d shared baths together. His mind drifted to the thought of his goddess cradled against his body, how small she felt even with her considerable power, the feeling of her silky hair catching on his skin as he kissed the hollow of her neck and…

“Don’t take that path in your mind, Gale. She’s the last person you should be thinking about right now,” he told himself as he gave his cheek a couple firm, bracing pats with his hand. He let his head drop back in the water and sighed. 

The water filled his ears, quieting the ambient sounds in the room around him and creating an echochamber of his head. He heard the airy sound of his breaths coming and going in and out of his lungs; heard the gentle trickling sounds of his fingers creating tiny currents under the water; heard the sound of his heart still beating in his over-crowded chest. 

He was still alive. 

There could be hope for him yet. 

Unlikely, sure, but there could be. 

After washing up with some simple soap, he got out of the bath and toweled off. 

He walked over to the small wardrobe where he kept his things and slapped a couple lazy splashes of a fragranced suspension he’d made onto his neck, favoring his pulse points as he used to when he’d go out for a night at The Yawning Portal. He trimmed his beard as a small concession to Tara (he would not be shaving it completely, thank you very much,) and got dressed. 

He decided he would wear one of his nicer sets of robes. It’d been a while since he’d properly dressed himself in something other than simple tunics and roughspun practice robes. He started with some leather trousers and his under shirt, layering the criss-crossed front with car and fastening it with the ties at his waist to create a slender, tapered silhouette. Then he slipped the robe on, and paused as he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. 

He’d not really been thinking when he selected the robe, but this was one of Mystra’s favorites on him. Various shades of violet with a wine-colored sash. 

Violet, of course, was the color of the weave. Mystra’s color. 

Would she want him to eliminate the color from his wardrobe altogether? Now that she’d left him to his devices? Surely a goddess couldn’t bar him from wearing a color. Hopefully not, considering more than half of his wardrobe was some shade of lilac, lavender or morning glory.

Whatever the case, he fastened the buckles and straightened the sash the wine colored sash, trying once again to put Mystra out of his mind. He did a flick of his hands to lace up the sleeves and then slid on some leather bracers for good measure. 

It wasn’t as if he had any intention of doing any fighting or shooting any arrows, but he liked how they looked. And it had been so long since he’d looked in the mirror and thought to himself my, look at that handsome devil.

Finally he looked at the mop of his hair. It’d also been too long since he’d gotten a cut…now his messy curls fell past his shoulders when he usually preferred to keep it short enough to comb back with a bit of emollient or pomade. He was certain his mother would gripe about it and then he would have to deal with incessant fussing two fold between his mother and Tara. Still, it was dark outside–long past the time any salons would be open, so he gathered half of it up, bundling it as neatly as he could manage around his two forefingers and secured it with a two-pronged hairpin. 

He looked at the earring on his wardrobe and hedged for a moment. 

He’d been given the earring as a gift from Mystra when he’d first encountered her as a boy. He’d only stopped wearing it in the last year. Something had felt off about keeping it on–like a widower still wearing his wedding band. But it also felt wrong to leave his tower without it. It felt like a part of his identity. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he said to himself in the mirror before turning from it and striding out of his bedroom. 

…He returned not two seconds later and slipped the earring into his left ear. Damn it all. He couldn’t help what he was. A sentimental, heartbroken fool.

On his way out the door, he grabbed a hooded cloak and draped it over his shoulders. He lifted the hood, obscuring his face in shadow, hoping it would be enough to keep him from having to interact with anyone who wasn’t Tara of his mother. He considered, for a moment, casting an invisibility charm on himself…alas the concentration such a thing would require left him feeling exhausted at the thought of it. The cloak had worked for rogues and criminals for centuries. Suely it could work for him as well. 

Finally, he left the safety and control his tower afforded him and walked out into the cold, Waterdhavian night. 

A Cheeky Upstart

“Okay Elinna. Just…ring the doorbell. You’ve traveled all the way here. So just ring it,” a young woman told herself as she stood outside the wrought iron gates. “You sailed all the way from the Moonshae Islands, left every book behind, dealt with some of the worst sea sickness in all of the realms just to be here.”

Despite telling herself this, she had to shake out some of the numbness in her fingers from clenching her fists too tight. Or maybe it was just the nip in the air from the coastal evening. She couldn’t truly be sure. 

As she stood there, her green eyes caught a streak of movement in the sky–some winged creature departing from a high window of the tower. She couldn’t quite make out what it was. Maybe a gargoyle? Or a mephit? An imp?

Something churned in her gut at the thought of Gale of Waterdeep cavorting with the infernal. Perhaps that was why no one had seen him in such a long time–maybe he’d made a pact with a devil and lost some of his humanity in the exchange. Maybe she ought to just turn on her shabby heels and book passage back home. 

“You can’t do that, Elinna,” she told herself. “You already spent everything you have just to get here. You’re all in, now.”

But that was precisely why she couldn’t bring herself to tug on the chain to ring the doorbell. Who was she to show up at the door of one of the best wizards–a proper prodigy of composing strings of the weave; the apprentice of the famous Elminster, no less?

Well she knew the answer to that. 

She was desperate. That’s what she was. 

She’d been left at the Scribe’s Nest by her mother with nothing but a note and an old locket she couldn’t get open; drow craftsmanship. The note detailed her lineage as a half-drow, but begged the clerics of the temple to take her in and raise her. According to the note left in her swaddle, Elinna would be shunned and excluded by because of her impure blood. 

A shame for both her mother and Elinna herself that the Scribe’s Nest had simply moved into an old Temple of Ilmater. The inhabitants inside were nothing but glorified librarians. They may have had access to all of the books in the world, but not a single one of her guardians actually knew how to use the information inside. 

No. Instead, they tried to raise her to love cataloging the written word, but deny herself the joy of actually using anything she learned from the old dusty tomes in the temple. Even when she’d shown a natural knack for small magics, she had been discouraged from using them, leaving her with no choice but to practice in the wee hours of the night. 

She knew she hadn’t much to use as a benchmark for her growth as a burgeoning young wizard, but she thought for all of the effort she’d put in she made a half-decent self-taught magician. All she needed was some proper tutelage to become something truly magnificent. Something worthy of the tales of great wizards that she’d read. 

Which brought her here–to the first and only plan she had to seek out that higher learning. And now her future hung in the balance of whether or not her knock at the door–or rather the ring of the doorbell–would be answered. 

Her heart pounded in her chest, at her temples. He leather fingerless gloves squeaked as she flexed and clenched her fists. 

“Gah!” she cried, turning away from the gate, pacing across the narrow cobbled street, then pacing right back. She gasped in a few preparatory breaths and hopped from one soft-soled foot to the other. “Just do it, just DO it, Elinna. Just–”

The door of the tower opened, it’s underutilized hinges creaking as the man opening the door grunted. 

“Damnable–old door–why did I make you out of iron,” grumbled the voice. 

Elinna went entirely still, eyes going wide. 

Perhaps it was habit from how many times she’d had to sneak tomes away from the restricted areas of the Scribe’s Nest, but she ducked behind the stone columns holding up the wrought iron gate and watched as the cloaked figure made his way to the gate and slipped outside of it with a wave of his hand. 

She remained hidden as he looked down the road in her direction, his eyes looking too distantly to catch her small frame tucked away in the dark. 

She’d seen sketches of the Gale Dekarios before, but she couldn’t help but feel they did him no justice. The etchings seemed to have emphasized the wizened qualities of his features; the lines around his eyes, the creases around his lips. They made him look sagely and–well–old. 

But the real man, the one now standing in the flesh just a few feet from her was something different entirely. 

He showed signs of age, of course. He was a middle-aged man, after all. But his lips were fuller, his beard a little more tidy, and his eyes…

His eyes were what made him look the most youthful. There was a sort of shimmer to them that she couldn’t quite describe, a sort of weight to his brow that made him look as if he was always curious, always observing.

She watched as he pulled his cloak a little tighter around him and turned the opposite direction, walking down the narrow street. 

Wait, she thought. What am I doing?!

She hesitated for only one more moment before quickly hurrying after him. She searched her mind for all of the speeches she’d practiced for this introduction, but she was left wanting. She should have written it down so that she wouldn’t forget–or would it have been even more strange for read her introduction off the pages of a notebook? 

It was all strange, of course; a girl crossing the ocean to show up on the doorstep of a stranger several years her senior. Asking for an apprenticeship when she hadn’t so much as sent him a letter of introduction or even had anything to offer in exchange except for chores, errands and meal preparations. Seeking tutelage from one of the most accomplished young wizards when she was still struggling with even the most basic of incantations…

But what else could she do? 

The life of a Scribe Nest Archiver was not a luxurious one. She’d had to sneak out of the old Nest to sing songs at the local tavern to scrape what little money she could together to book passage to even get here. 

Blackstaff wasn’t exactly inexpensive–and even if it was, she couldn’t hope to get in. Not with how poorly she handled the weave. 

But Gale–she had read transcripts of his lectures, heard tales of how magnanimous and warm he could be. She even once met one of his friends at the tavern who was visiting the islands for this or that purpose–she couldn’t remember. She only remembered the tales of his kindness and generosity. Of his gentleman’s nature. 

He seemed like her only real chance at ever mastering this art that sang to her like a harpy at roost in the bay.

God’s he was walking fast though. Perhaps it was just because she was so short in comparison to him, but she was almost having to run to catch up to him. 

“E-excuse me,” she finally said when she was within earshot.

She saw the briefest glance back at her, the quickest flash of a startled expression, before he focused forward and quickened his pace.  

“No, thank you,” Dekarios replied. “I’ve already a subscription to the Waterdhavian times.”

“Uhm, no–that’s not–” she stammered. “Wait, could you please stop walking so fast!”

“I’m in a dreadful hurry, good night to you,” he said dismissively, walking even faster as he pulled his cloak further to guard his face. 

“Mr. Dekarios! I’ve come here to talk to you!” She shouted, a little crack of desperation coming out with it. “Mr. Dekarios I–”

He whirled on her, suddenly encroaching into her space. He was so quick that she almost stumbled backward and fell. Before she could, though, he seized her arm with one strong hand, stablizing her quickly before clasping his other hand over her mouth.

She stared up at him with wide eyes, bright irises flicking around his face as if she were prey caught in his snare.

“Shhhh,” he hissed before looking around, as if to see if anyone heard her. “Mystra’s Elbow, you’d think my reputation as a newly initiated recluse would have gotten around by now.”

Elinna swallowed dryly, critically aware of the feeling of his calloused fingertips on the soft swells of her freckled cheeks. She blinked up at him, unsure what to do. His hand felt warm through the roughspun, puffed sleeves of her Scribe’s Nest garments.  Her feet were sort of turned in awkwardly after he’s caught her mid fall. 

She wondered if it would have looked like she was being accosted by a thief to a wandering bystander. She supposed it didn’t matter because no one else was here. She knew she should have been afraid. That she was a young woman alone with an older man; that he’d rendered her silent and could easily do much worse. But she also knew that was likely the experiences at the tavern thinking for her. 

Gale was supposed to be a gentleman. That’s what she’d always heard. And…

And his hands smelled like…like tea and old parchment and sage. There was a somewhat sharp quality to the fragrance–perhaps a suspension alchemized in alcohol of some sort. He must have made it himself. 

“Now. This behavior of mine, admittedly, is abhorrent for a gentleman with a young lady. I will have to ask you to forgive my bad manners and to give me the grace of your understanding because I simply did not want to be greeted by anyone aside from my mother and my cat. Now. I am going to take my hand away from your mouth; apologies again for the rough handling. But I’m going to then need you to let me walk away. And perhaps most importantly, I need you to leave me alone,” Gale said quietly. “Do we have an accord?”

Elinna’s pale ginger brow furrowed and he tutted quietly. 

“No, no. No crinkles of the brow, no narrowing of the eyes, miss,” he scolded. “It is by mere coincidence you’ve even caught me out of my tower. By all accounts this is an anomaly of the highest order and therefore…uhm…does not count. You should just forget this ever happened. In fact, I could help you do so if you like!”

Doesn’t count? What kind of logic–that was school-boy logic! And what did he mean help her forget?! She jerked her arm away from him and, perhaps in a moment of panic he tightened his grip.

“Alright, alright! I’m going to let you go–just– remember our deal, please,” he said, releasing her arm.

He winced slightly as he hesitated to remove his other hand from her mouth. She thought he had the same expression one might have if they were about to remove a cork from a vial of smelling salts.

He released his other hand, drawing it away from her mouth. 

“Mr. Dekarios, I’ve come to ask you to take me on as an apprentice,” Elinna blurted out. “I know you have never met me, and that you have no notion of my ability or skill. And that showing up outside of a strangers house and asking them for a place to live–”

“I’m sorry, a place to live?” He interjected with an incredulous tone

“--and a comprehensive education in the arcane arts–” she continued.

“I assure you I do not have the time, and it certainly wouldn’t be proper for an older man to bring a young woman into his home to–” he interjected again. 

“ But I have nowhere else to turn and…And I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer.”

His brows shot up as she finally stopped speaking. She didn’t know what to make of that expression, nor the silence that followed. Elinna could feel her face beginning to warm and she knew from  that her face was already starting to color with her own nerves. It felt the same way it did when a tavern patron made a bawdy joke at her expense–or about her body. 

The silence was the most unbearable part, though. So she started to fill it, her face getting warmer by the moment.

“You’re silent,” she said. “Uh–right. Names. I’m Elinna Inklyn. I hail from the Moonshae Islands. I grew up under the care of the Scribe’s Nest Archivists and–”

“Elinna. Elinna,” he said, his tone almost pitying. “I’m going to stop you right there.”

She felt her heart sink as he pinched the bridge of his nose and tilted his head back, looking toward the sky. “Look, Miss Inklyn. I’m sorry that you came all this way, but. I am afraid you must take no as an answer. I cannot take on an apprentice, even if I wanted to.” He winced and almost half shrugged. “And frankly, I really do not want to. Even if I could do it, I wouldn’t want to do it.”

“But–if you’d let me explain–” she protested. 

“No–no buts. Again, I am dreadfully sorry for the trouble you went through to get here. But…considering that you sought me out and addressed me by name, you must know who I am.” he said. 

“Yes,” she answered. 

“So, then you know that I am particularly gifted with manipulating the weave,” he said. “That’s why you’ve sought me out.”

“Yes,” she said yet again. “Well part of the reason but also because–”

“So, then I’m sure you could understand why I find the inadequacies of unskilled wizards irksome, correct? That if I were to take on an apprentice, it would be someone with a certain level of innate talent?”

Her brow furrowed again and she inhaled to speak, but before another word could fall out of her mouth a huge boom of sound tore out from the sky above them. She clapped her gloved hands over her ears and yelped.

“What was that?” she shouted. 

The two looked up at the source of the sound only to see the sky split open like it’d been torn by a dull blade. Out of the opening flew a giant aircraft with writhing tentacles slicing through the air as if it were a squid traversing deep sea waters. The two wizards–one novice and one adept–balked at the appearance of the spelljammer, the size of it practically the size of Gale’s tower if you laid it on its side.

“A nautiloid?” They both said at the same time. 

They met eyes briefly before Gale gritted his teeth and grasped onto her arm, almost flinging her away from him

“Get out of here, Elinna. And whatever you do don’t let the tentacles touch you,” he shouted. 

She stumbled, almost falling on her face, looking back at him. 

“What about you?!” she cried. 

“I’m a wizard,” he said before turning and casting a bolts of ice at two of the tentacles that swatted out toward them. 

“It’s a spelljammer!”

“I’m a very, very good wizard!” he said. 

Elinna’s sense of self preservation won out over her worry for the man she’d come here to meet. If he thought he could take on a nautiloid, who was she to deny that? She turned and sprinted down the narrow street before dodging down an alleyway in hopes of getting cover from the massive tentacles that now swept down toward the ground like great, giant whips. 

She chanced a single look back to see Gale running just behind her, and the spelljammer that was traveling far too quickly and far too low to the ground for comfort. He followed her down the alleyway, calling ahead. “Not that way! To the east–”

“I don’t know which way east is!” she shouted back. 

“Are you kiddi–Eugh–LEFT,” he said. “LEFT, LEFT! Go LEFT!”

“Alright, I heard you!” she said. “No need to shout!”

“I will shout if I want to, now–Elinna, look out!”

She looked ahead just in time to see a brick wall and slipped on her worn soles as she tried to come to a screeching halt. 

She slammed into the wall, but thankfully not with enough force to knock her out.  She managed to clumsily tumble toward the left, dropping onto her fingertips just a moment before lurching back upright. Gale caught up to her and cast some spell–gust, she assumed– because a strong wind caught in the fabric of her clothes like a breeze in the sails of a galeon and made her feel like she was running on air. 

He fought off another tentacle and she screamed as one almost tagged her, but smashed an old fish barrel to bits instead.

“Keep going. We’ll lose it on the main road,” Gale yelled.  

They spilled out onto a wider street and she immediately regretted listening to the Waterdhavian native. It’d seemed a sound plan at first. But only if the goal of the ship was to find them specifically. When they made it to the street, Elinna realized that was not the drive of the nautiloid at all. 

The main road was chaos. There were carts toppled over and people lying trampled on the ground. People ran and screamed, some of them were swatted by the terrifying power of the tentacles only to vanish into dust before they could make impact with the wall of a building or the floor below them.

Elinna froze in terror, realizing finally that her plight had gone from one of trying to secure a teacher of her own to one of simply trying to survive her first night on the mainland. It suddenly dawned on her that she might actually die here. She might die within moments. 

She couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.

It was a mistake to stop, but she realized it too late. A horse cried out desperately and tore away from the frightening vessel. It tore straight toward her, its eyes wild, his nose gusting tufts of steam into the air like a machine. It pulled a market cart along with it, full of heavy barrels of meat and wine. She braced herself, squeezing her eyes shut and thinking about the magic she’d read about. Misty step–misty step, what was the incantation for misty step?

“I-Inveniam Viam!!” she shouted, the words sailing on waves of the weave and almost…echoing. There was the sweet taste of something on her tongue–the after effect of using the weave if her reading was any indication. She’d only tasted that once or twice before, but chasing that sweet, comforting experience was what brought her here. It’s what made her so desperately want to learn how to wield this magic.

When she opened her eyes, the horse was gone.

Unfortunately for her, so was the ground beneath her feet. 

She’d somehow teleported into midair and, as if the weave was just as shocked as she was, she’d wound up suspended there for just the briefest moment, cradled by the strands of the weave she’d managed to manipulate. Seconds felt like minutes as he copper hair floate away from her face as she experienced true weightlessness for just moments. Then she felt the sickening churn in her stomach as she started to fall. 

The floor just far enough to be lethal but not far enough to give her adequate time to figure out another spell. Her mind went blank with terror. In a moment of desperation, she found Gale in the crowd, a stationary man in a sea of fleeing people. 

He looked at her in abject horror as she dropped like a dagger out of the sky. He looked utterly, woefully helpless.

She screamed, wrapping her arms around her as if she could brace her own fall, as if holding herself would hold her together.

Then, just as she was about to splat on the cobblestones into a puddle of bone and blood, a searing heat bloomed from the center of her back. She screamed again as she felt herself dissolve from the inside out, her innards liquifying into a primordial soup. 

Her body went miserably hot, and then impossibly cold. No. Not cold–she realized–absent. She was vanishing from the center of her body. She watched in uncomprehending horror as her middle vanished, watched as her body evaporated like steam off a teacup. 

Her guttural scream sounded from her and died in the air. 

The last thing she saw before her vision went black was Gale still staring at her as he too succumbed to the nautiloid’s attack.

[talonabraxas]

Green Tara Talon Abraxas

Tara, the Infallible

By Lama Lobsang Tenpey Gyaltsen (1852)

From my heart I bow to Divine Mother Tara, essence of love and compassion, the most precious objects of refuge gathered into one. From now until I reach enlightenment, hook me with your great love and kindness to liberate me.

By the witness of the Three Jewels, not just from my mouth but from the depths of my innermost heart and bones, I pray to you morning and evening. Show your blissful face to me, Loving One. Grant me the nectar of your speech.

Great gurus and small gurus cheat us with their made-up teachings, selling Dharma, teaching without comprehension, not observing who is qualified and who is not, being concerned about their own happiness and the eight worldly concerns. Since I can no longer trust friends of this degenerate age, you are my principal guru. Inspire me, Divine Mother, essence of love. Arouse the great power of your compassion and think of me.

I take refuge in you Tara; like you, no Buddha could ever deceive me. But understanding the odd character of these times, most Buddhas have gone into the bliss of nirvana. Even though they have great compassion, we have no connection. Since for me there are no other deities, you are my principal deity. Bestow realizations upon me, Divine Mother, essence of love. Arouse the great power of your compassion and think of me.

Most Dharma protectors do not show their powers. Tired of those who invoke them, they do not act. Other protectors, lacking insight but proud of their power, may be friendly for a while but will later do me harm. Since I cannot rely on other protectors, you are my principal protector. With divine action, Wisdom Mother, essence of love, arouse the great power of your compassion and think of me.

To ordinary view the names of objects are the same as their meaning. Like this, they produce afflictions and bind us to samsara. When it is time to die, unless I understand the true nature, could a wish-fulfilling gem enable me to carry even a sesame seed with me? Since I do not trust in illusions, you are my real richness. Please grant my desires, Divine Mother, essence of love. Arouse the great power of your compassion and think of me.

I cannot rely on the non-virtuous friends for even a day. They pretend to be close to me and all the while have in mind the opposite. They are friends when they wish it and enemies when they don’t. Since I cannot trust in this kind of friend, you are my best friend. Be close to me, Divine Mother, essence of love. Arouse the great power of your compassion and think of me.

You are my guru, my yidam, my protector, my refuge, my food, my clothes, my possessions, and my friend. Since your divine quality is everything to me, let me spontaneously achieve all that I wish.

Although I am overwhelmed by my habitual, uncontrolled mind, please cut these self-centered thoughts so I will be able to give my body and my life millions of times without difficulty to each sentient being. Inspire me to be able to develop this kind of compassion to benefit all.

Empower me to cut the root of samsara, self-grasping, and to understand the pure doctrine, the most difficult middle way, free from the errors of extremes.

Inspire me to practice as a bodhisattva, turning away from what is worldly, dedicating all my virtues to teaching living beings, never for even one instant thinking of just my own happiness. Let me wish to attain Buddhahood for the benefit of all.

Empower me to actualize as much as possible the most subtle vows and to keep them without a careless mind, thus becoming the most perfect bodhisattva.

Outwardly, let me be simple in my practice, while inwardly, actualize the depth of the diamond vehicle with the strong wish to practice the two stages. Inspire me to attain enlightenment quickly for the benefit of all.

Divine Wisdom Mother Tara, you know everything about my life — my ups and downs, my good and bad. Think lovingly of me, my only mother.

I give myself and all who trust in me to you, Divine Wisdom Mother Tara. Being completely open to you, let us be born in the highest pure land. Set me there quickly with no births in between.

May the hook of your compassion and your skillful means transform my mind into Dharma and transform the minds of all beings, whoever they are. They have all been my mother, the mother of one unable to follow the Conqueror’s teachings.

By reciting this prayer three times a day and by remembering the Divine Wisdom Mother Tara, may I and all beings who are connected to me reach whatever pure land we wish.

May the Three Jewels and especially the Divine Wisdom Mother, whose essence is compassion, hold me dear until I reach enlightenment. May I quickly conquer the four negative forces.

Om Tare Tuttare Ture Svaha!

[autistichalsin]

If we talked about other companions the way their fans talk about Halsin

Salt/snark under the cut

"As a vampire, Astarion uses you as a food source. This means he's no better than if a human fucked a cow. Astarion literally commits bestiality and you enable this degeneracy"

"Shadowheart saying she wants to climb Halsin is literal sexual harassment, and worse, she disapproves if you turn him away from the orgy, which is borderline coercing Tav into having a threesome, which is literal rape. What a sex pest."

"Wyll must be a pedophile. Why else would he be so interested in spending time with the children at the Grove? 🤨"

"Karlach is such a useless character. All she's there for is smashing things and telling you she's so horny after her time in the hells"

"Gale was probably fucking Tara. Why else would she have lived with him for years and why else would he get offended if you call her a cat? Also, he has giant toxic masculinity as evidenced by his refusal to humble himself before Mystra, a woman."

"Lae'zel brags about bedding other companions if you decline her. This nonconsensual sharing of sexual information is literal sexual harassment and makes her probably the biggest sex pest in the game. Plus, she has the nerve to tell you you will regret not having sex with her, which is telling you how you feel about her, which is a giant red flag for how creepy men in real life act."

"Minsc was such a useless addition. All those lines and all he talks about is his hamster. He should never have been made a companion. All he's there for is fanservice."

"Jaheira constantly threatening to kill you in act 2 is really problematic. Also, she is clearly the inferior Druid to Halsin, who you just unlocked by the time you get her. Larian fuckd up big time adding two Druids when one was clearly just there for fanservice for nostalgic BG1/2 fans."

[bharv]

What popular/fandom take on Gale do you feel most out of step with? Where does your interpretation diverge?

I’m gonna make this non rebloggable, people can capture this if they want but under the cut! There’s a lot… and it’s mostly headcanon territory with a bit implied from canon.

I think he is an only child of a single mum. I mean this is about fifty fifty.

He grew up rich. He would call himself comfortable. Again this is fifty fifty I think.

Morena was emotionally a bit overbearing but also sometimes a little absent. He was a bit of a lonely child before Tara.

I think he came to the attention of Elminster way before Mystra. Possibly 15 years before. Mostly because of the Mystra timeline.

I think he was absolutely insufferable in his late teens and early twenties as he got enabled by people. I think he can be quite easily influenced by other people in social situations, and this was definitely more when he was younger.

I think he was popular as a young man, and could have had a lot of one night stands, but instead wanted things with a bit more intellectual connection. He’s had a handful of experiences with people he felt a connection with.

Elminster introduced Mystra to him thinking she would absorb his power. He brought a ton of potential chosen to her to complete her ascension until he found another solution. This would have been not long after Gale’s studies in his mid twenties.

When Gale met Mystra she still had a small spark of humanity (like how we see god!Gale in the epilogue actually!) and when that disappeared, Gale was trying to reach for it. That’s what led him to the weave.

But also, although he would never admit it, it was also pride. He wanted to be an equal in her eyes, even though that is impossible. He’s frustrated, unfulfilled by their relationship and he doesn’t know why.

He has chronic pain and that’s key to his character (again, mixed feelings in the fandom on this I feel?)

He would literally want to be with anybody if they were intellectually stimulating to him. Doesn’t mean they have to be academics but as long as they challenge him he would love it.

He would be very happy without kids and if he does become a father he would not be super good at it all the time! He’d have to learn how to be patient and would need to be supported!

I think his stamina with physical sex is terrible to start and I don’t think he’s as good at oral as he thinks. But he’s a good learner!

[maxxix66]

Dumb Ghost(part one)

“You can’t wake up, this is not a dream. You’re part of a machine, you are not a human being.”

Warnings: Smut, murder, ghost face!reader, female!reader, kniveplay, honestly just the reader being an asshole, then being fucked by Tara. Not proofread. also some of this is very unsanitary, as the reader is covered in three other peoples blood

POV: Second person

Request: my own brain

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Female Reader

Genre: Smut

‼️NSFW BELOW THE CUT‼️

You tapped away on your throw away phone, somehow not being affected by the gloves you were wearing. You stared into your girlfriends window, contemplating jumping in to say hi. Maybe a couple cuts, but mainly a friendly hello. You sighed, and dialed her number.

Rnng… rnng… rnng… click.

You sighed, continuing to call until the phone was picked up. Of course, the voice changer was enabled.

“Hey honey, what’s up?”

Tara tapped on the table, while hearing an unfamiliar voice. “…Hi?”

You laughed, feeling fuzzy on the inside. “Sooo… Do you like scary movies?”

You heard an annoyed sigh, and she responded. “(Y/N), you’re not funny.”

“Who is (Y/N)?”

At this point, you were just fucking with her. When she hung up, you sighed.

“Awww, lame…”

You tap on the window, watching her walk over. She looked out, seeing nothing but darkness. Of course, she couldn’t see you. Tara squinted, and turned away. She continued cleaning the kitchen, and you smiled.

At this point, you had enough. You tampered with her security system, and walked straight in. You waved, and she stared at you. She grabbed a knife out of the butcher block. You shook your head, and pulled your knife up. Tara, not knowing what was happening, screamed and ran to the living room. You chased after her, and threw the knife. It slid across her arm, and she yelled.

“Agh- what the hell? Why are you in my house?!”

You laughed, and ripped your mask off. Tara stared at you, seeing her girlfriends face covered in different shades of blood, obviously the depth of the wounds on your victims varying.

“Just wanted to say hi. Hello, hi. How might you be, little one?”

You walked up and lifted her chin up with your thumb and index finger, smiling and kissing her softly. She pushed you away. She smelled a metallic scent, and started to stare at you in fear and surprise.

“(Y/N), please tell me you didn’t…”

You sighed, and sat down. You did. You killed people. You looked at her, and then looked away in shame. When she glared at you, you dropped the knife.

“Tara, I’m… I’m sorry.”

She picked up the knife, and crawled over you. She kicked the pillows and blankets off of the couch, and put the knife to your neck.

“What have you done? Who did you hurt? Did you… kill someone?”

You looked at her, trembling. You nodded. “You did not…”

You nodded once again. Your black costume draped off of your body. She pushed the knife down harder, and stared you in the eyes.

“Do you know how much this’ll hurt people?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but you’re not exactly innocent either… I mean, you can be an ass at times…”

She sighs, and takes it off. Her hands were now stained with other people’s blood, yet she was still enjoying seeing you vulnerable.

“You’re a killer. That warrants at least something, right?”

You shook against her, and pushed her gently.

“Tara, get off.”

She shook her head, and pinned your hands down. She glared at you, and tied them together with some cloth she has laying around.

“Stay here. I’m gonna call the cops if you pull anything weird.”

She shook her head, and walked to the bathroom. You looked around, and got comfy.

“Left, right, left, right, on the bed, off the bed…”

She came out, and walked up to you. She dragged you off the couch, and pulled you to her room.

“I swear, I’m gonna fuckin’…”

She didn’t finish, and continued to pull you. Once she got you in her room, she pulled you on the bed. Tara pulled down your black jeans, as well as your panties. She moved the hilt of your knife along your inner thigh, the blood of your victims dripping down your leg. She laughed, seeing you look down in panic.

“Tara, please don’t get the blood too close to my… y’know…”

She chuckled again, and moved the handle do your cunt. She slid it up and down slowly, continuing to laugh at your freaked out expression.

“What, scared? You killed them, why are you freaking out?”

She gently slid the tip into your core, watching you whine. She pulled it out, and tossed it to the side. The next thing to enter you was her now bloody fingers. The blood being those three victims and her own. The part about her blood being inside of you made your skin crawl. Of course, she started sliding them in and out as you whined into her shoulder. Every few seconds, she sped up until there were sickening squelches echoing in the room.

“Tara..? Slow down…”

She kissed your cheek, and moved down to suck on your neck. She only sped up from that point. You whined her name quietly, grinding yourself into her hand.

“Shh, shh… It’s alright. Just endure it for a bit longer, alright?”

You nodded. Tara moved her left hand up to pinch one of your nipples, giggling at how your mouth hung open and your eyes shut.

“Mmh… Ta-Tara..~”

She smiled into your skin, only for you to feel the shape of her lips. The feeling of her touch sent you over the edge, making you tremble and leak all over her fingers. She kissed you once more, before pulling away and going to get a towel.

“Don’t get it anywhere, or I may just leave you here all night.”

Well uh, I’m never experimenting again

[nicnacsnonsense]

The thing about Willow’s magic addiction is that magic both is and isn’t the problem.

Compare Willow erasing Tara’s memory of their fight to Willow harassing Oz with her apologies for cheating on him even after he told her he wanted some space. In a lot of ways these two things are substantively the same. They are both Willow having a conflict with her partner where she is so focused on “fixing it” that she is willing to violate her partner’s boundaries to make it happen, in part because Willow’s concept of fixing it is not about addressing the actual issue, but just making it so her partner isn’t angry at her anymore. Her use of magic in service of this in the situation with Tara is in some way incidental; it was just the best tool she had for what she was trying to accomplish.

But in other respects, the use of magic makes a huge difference between these two situations. While she crossed Oz’s boundaries, it was still significantly less of a violation than erasing Tara’s memories. Furthermore Oz was able to see her crossing his boundaries and push back, forcing her to respect them. Tara had no idea Willow had even done anything and never would have known had Dawn not accidentally tipped her off. While Willow’s motivations are the same, her actions with Tara are much worse.

And that’s the crux of it. Willow is a person with certain quirks and character flaws, but no more so than anyone else. They are things she needs to work on, because it’s always good to work to better yourself, but the problems that they might sometimes cause for the people around her are ultimately just a part of being an imperfect human being interacting with other imperfect people. But having access to magic, and a lot of it at that, serves to enable and magnify all those character flaws and makes the negative impact on the people around her much worse.

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale Seeking Godhood Part IV

Oh boy. This was a doozy to write and I hurt my own feelings. Anyway, here is Part IV of Gale seeking godhood. Enjoy folks.

You stand on the bustling streets of Waterdeep, the sounds of merchants and passers by echoing in the chambers of your mind. Tara had summoned you here, on a matter most urgent - Gale had retrieved all three of the Nether Stones. 

You stayed away, although he tried to follow after you that fateful morning, although he offered words of solace and adoration. He fell to your feet, begging you not to leave, to remain by his side. 

“Please,” he had whispered, clutching your legs as he kissed your ankles and calves in repentance, “I love you, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. Please, don’t do this… you don’t know what you’re saying…” It was the first time you saw him drop all of his defenses and hubris, his ego dissolving as he pooled at your feet begging for your love. The love you once had, that was once a formidable force was now tightly locked away. You left him then despite your heart shattering and ripping to shreds, every fiber in your being beseeching you to change your mind as you heard his quiet, fierce yell behind you. You did not turn around. You could not. You could not forget yourself, no matter how much you loved him.  

Even so despite your best interests, here you are at the threshold of his domain in Waterdeep. When you received Tara’s note, you sensed the panic in the few words. 

Come at once. -T 

You inhale deeply, allowing the salty air to fill your lungs with courage. Your heart beat feels like a drumming song, the lump in your throat feeling like a knotted pine as you cross the precipice and into Gale’s home.

The tower is looming, the insides painted with fauna and flora of all kinds, shelves stacked with tomes and magical items fill the walls and the picture windows allow the natural light of day to waft through, kissing your skin. Although Gale had conjured this space for you before the illusion almost did no justice. It smells faintly of sandalwood and oak, along with a tincture you are unfamiliar with. You see Tara outstretched in a particularly pleasant looking beam of sunlight. She turns to you, blinking her slender eyes in acknowledgment. “It’s about time. He’s in his study, pouring over the texts as we speak. Don’t dawdle. I’ve been avoiding him, as is to be expected. He’s been downright incorrigible and rude. I hope you know what you’re doing seeing as how you enabled this wretched behavior.” Tara yawned, stretching her body.  

Although it guts you as Tara speaks in this way, you know this to be true. You should have done more, could have done more. But the past was the past and it cannot be changed. That was your only certainty. You rummage in your bag to retrieve a potion of ‘detect thoughts’ and ‘invisibility,’ both of which you bartered for at Bonecloak’s Apothecary. You shake them and tap your temple, grinning. “Nothing if not prepared,” you say and Tara chirrups and goes back to sleep. 

You timidly creep up the winding staircase that leads to Gale’s study. You drink the two potions and feel woozy, the taste burning a bit as it slithers down your throat and down your gullet. Wincing, you see the door is cracked and see Gale pouring over the Netherese tomes. You inhale, unprepared to see him for the first time since the day you left. Seeing him feels you with both warmth and despair, grieving the man he was and yearning for his touch once more. 

That is not your purpose right now, though so you push the thoughts away and focus your mind in order to peak around through the folds of Gale’s brain. It takes you a moment and you part the folds gingerly and all at once you are within the enclaves of his mind. 

The images and words are muddled at first as you try to make sense of them before the hazy edges of memory come into focus. You hear Gale’s voice in your mind, It shouldn’t be this bloody difficult, focus Gale, focus! He tries to murmur the unfamiliar words in his mind and he audibly shouts, burying his face in his hands and soundless sob wracks his body. His vulnerability in this moment tugs at your heart and you want nothing more than to step forward and wrap your arms around him and feel the warmth of his body against yours, to soothe him and bask him in comfort. It’s as if your anger and hurt falls away to give way to the root of your love and adoration you still feel for him, despite how he’s treated you, despite everything. You see that there is still time, as he has only begun to decipher the ancient texts that are almost incomprehensible. Most of the words have been rubbed away, difficult to make sense of. You see Gale berate himself. Incompetent. Unworthy. Mystra was right. You are unworthy of godhood. You are nothing. You can’t even make sense of this. Pull yourself together you wretched thing, you were once a Wizard of considerable acclaim.. you cannot stop now, not after all you’ve lost. 

You had, prior to this moment, respected Gale’s privacy - he made it clear early on that he would rather one ask him outright than subversively explore his mind without his consent. Now, she understood why. The way he spoke to himself was so… disheartening and as his thoughts shifted, you feel your resolve weaken. 

His thoughts shift to you. You feel his heart swell with both pain and a love that feels almost terrifying. The moment you shared in the Weave, the first night your bodies became one and when Gale said he loved you, images of you during battle, flushed and gleaming. You see more flashes of yourself, your smile, your laugh, and you feel the depth of Gale’s emotion right then, the regret and loss drowning you and him simultaneously. It broke your heart and it made you angry. Why couldn’t he share this with you? Why couldn’t he put aside his pride and just admit he was wrong, admit that the goal was nothing but simple, petty vanity. What have I done… oh, Tav, I’m so sorry. You see then the mist begin to form in his eyes and the silent, hot tears begin to stream down his cheeks which he wipes away quickly. You see the drops fall onto the text and Gale groans, standing to go to the picture window and gazes out to the dock. 

Abruptly, Gale turned on his heel and began to move his hands in short fire bursts. You hold your breath and you realize he’s casting detect magic. You go to leave and the door slams shut behind you and despite trying the lock, he’s enchanted it. Shit, you think to yourself. 

“I didn’t appreciate it as a child and I certainly don’t appreciate it now, mother. If you have something to say or have a question, don’t hide behind these trivial potions and ask me outright.” Gale flicks his wrist and now, you are visible to him and his mouth hangs open in surprise before snapping shut and he mutes the expressions that dance across his features. “Oh.. it’s you.” His voice is quiet and his eyes narrow. “Were you - did Tara put you up to this? Have you been spying on me the entire time?” His voice blackens and he steps towards you, grasping your wrists in his hands. “What did you see?” He murmurs, his voice is both strained and unreadable. 

“I didn’t… I-” You stumble over your words, your mind emptying as you feel his fingers on your wrists. His touch.. oh, you forgot how your body craves his touch. 

“How dare you,” He says through gritted teeth and releases your wrists, running his hand through his hair and the other rests on his hip. He shoots you a withering glance and takes another step away from you. “You withhold yourself, vanish into the ether without so much as a word for months and now here you are, using a vulgar potion to breech my privacy?” He snorted, his emotions clouding his judgement. As his emotions grew in volatility, so did yours. “I suppose I don’t really know you at all.” 

“That’s rich,” you bristle, a sardonic laugh falling from your lips and your arms begin to follow the explosive emotions that flowed from you like a hurricane, “That’s absolutely rich. You put your desire for the crown over my life, Gale. I came here out of respect for Tara, out of the love that I so stupidly still feel for you,” you see Gale’s eyes flash for a moment with longing before clouding again. You hear the sound of claws at the door and Gale furiously undoes his arcane lock to allow Tara in. 

She slinks and jumps onto Gale’s desk, her tone biting. “If you want to head down the road to ruin, this will be the end for me too, Gale. I won’t stay here to watch. If you do this, this will be goodbye. After all, what use has a God for the wisdom of a Tressyum.” 

Gale groans and his anger rises until he says, “Fine. If you both insist on being such hinderances I suppose this is goodbye, then. It’s a shame that not even my oldest friend, not even the one I love accepts my aspirations. Perhaps you both have more in common with Mystra than I previously realized. Rather short sighted. So, fine, go if you wish. I will not stop you.” 

Your clench your teeth together, even Tara starting at the tone and intensity of your voice. “Do you remember one of the first things you said to me, when you told me about the orb? About your need of magical artifacts?” 

“If your intention is to lecture me -“ 

Gale begins but you hold up your finger and say icily, “You will listen to me, or I will take the stones from your corpse.” The threat dumbfounds him, taking the wind from his sails enough for you to continue, “You told me about a great Wizard, one that once, a very long time ago constructed a city in the skies. How he sought to usurp the Goddess of magic to become a God himself. How he almost managed, yet when he tried his entire empire came crashing down around him as he turned to stone, that his greed for power resulted in Mystra herself becoming undone. That magic itself was lost for a time, the cosmos roiling chaotically until the day Mystra was reborn. You told me of your own folly, your own hubris, your own lust for power cursing you with the orb to begin with - believing you knew better than a God. Gale’s folly, you called it. And yet, here we are, at the precipice of repeating history. How can you not see that?” 

“I am not the man I was. I am not Karsus. I will not fail,” Gale says steely, “I will do what Karsus never could.” 

You feel yourself deflate, you hoped this last effort to appeal to his sensibility would be fruitful and instead, Gale digs his heels in. You turn to leave and Gale scoffs, “Leaving so soon? Done with your lecturing? Believing you know best?” His tone was biting and you feel the sting of tears at the corner of your eyes. 

Tara interjects and hisses, swapping her claws that catch Gale’s sleeve and he cries out for a moment as his robe splits and blood pricks from his skin, “Gale. You are being monstrous.” He glares at her and you turn for a moment, your gaze and tone empty. There is nothing left for you here. 

“I never want to see you again.” 

“You don’t mean that.” Gale’s bravado drops and his expression softens, his wide, brown eyes desperate for you to stay. He barely whispers the next words, “You’ll come around, you’ll see.” He reaches out a hand to you and you recoil as if it’s poison. 

“No, Gale. No, I won’t. You want to be a God? Who am I, then, a worthless mortal, to stop you.” With that, you slam the door behind you as the tears of defeat, of unimaginable pain fall all at once.