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atsadi-shenanigans · 5 months ago

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A Misuse of Potions 1- Hill Giant Strength

Wrote it, thought I should sit on it to better edit, then decided I ain't patient. Bon appetite.

Rated VERY E.

Astarion has a plan. A nice, simple plan. His love has been gone for almost a tenday, but now she's back, and he needs her to obliterate him in the best way possible.

Night has fallen. Apprentice spellworkers dart through the streets to light the lanterns as the pale wash of sunset fades into purple, and then black.

Astarion stands near the window overlooking the front street and the small, rather overgrown garden his love has been somewhat tending to.

She’s late.

She’s actually two days late, but he’s inclined to blame the wizard for that. No, she should have been here thirty minutes ago, right as the last curve of the sun sank behind the distant buildings and released the creatures of the night to their nefarious doings.

To which he would happily add his own misdeeds. Except that she’s late.

Something happened. They were waylaid by pirates. A kraken rose from the deep to smash Waterdeep and pulled that wizard tower down on top of them, and her body is so human and so, so mortal. He needs to go. Needs to check—

Magic stirs below. The scent of cinnamon and licorice he always associates with Gale’s spells. A glimmer of purple flickers in the space right before their front gate—she painted it teal and seemed quite pleased with herself—before a shimmering, purple cloud unfurls taller and taller and…

His breath sighs out of him. She emerges. Eleanor. His former leader, his friend, his love. She’s back. She’s home.

He lets the curtain fall back into place.

They’re plush things, and heavy. Purchased with him in mind and enchanted to boot. Usually, the moment it’s safe to do so, he throws them open to catch the fading light still painting the sky.

But not tonight. He doesn’t care about the sky, today. And he doesn’t want an audience.

Well, aside from one, anyway.

She unlatches the little gate and steps through. Her footsteps sound heavy. She must be tired. He hopes that won’t alter his plans. Because he did. Plan. He’s getting better at that. But now she’s late and it’s thrown him so he hurries down the stairs, soft as a sigh.

Not that he needs to. Her hearing is awful (she says it’s quite good for a human and he feels a twinge of pity at that). Plus their townhouse is enchanted against noise. Can’t have the neighbors (he has neighbors) complaining about the screaming (it’s not even bad screaming; usually involves a lot of “yes, yes oh god” even).

He hits the ground floor and surveys the room. It’s nothing grand. Nothing like the mansion he still gets dragged to in reverie sometimes. But it’s bright and tidy (they pay someone for that, because it turns out neither of them is particularly good at housekeeping). The wooden floor is well-swept and decorated with colorful rugs and potted plants (dearest Eleanor says her people were farmers). The walls are covered in patterned wallpaper and bookshelves and trinkets, tapestries and paintings she should have haggled better for, but didn’t because “good art is worth the artist.”

It's very her. And, he thinks, it might possibly him, as well? Part of him? They change things as they need to as he figures that whole mess out.

But he’s really here to check that everything is in place. No elaborate staging, though. He chose his own clothes for his own reasons, for his own purposes. He’s in their home. And it smells of them.

Or it did smell of them, And that’s the problem.

Oh, his scent is everywhere. He can’t escape that. But she’s been gone the better part of a tenday, and it’s her that’s beginning to fade.

The first, few nights were tolerable. He could nuzzle into her pillow and remember to breathe. The bedding smelled of her: rich blood, the linden soap she favors, and that wonderful, clean scent she carries on her skin. It was nearly enough for him to imagine he held her as he rested.

But the bedding wasn’t warm, like her. And though the late, summer sunlight warms the stone walls of their home and chases away the burgeoning chill of autumn, there was no living body within the walls to fill it with heat.

She wasn’t there. He was alone.

He’s been alone before, of course. Was practically alone for two centuries before he threatened her on that beach (he sighs fondly at the memory: her on her back, staring up at him with what he initially mistook for a simpleton’s vacancy, but later learned was a vicious cunning) (when she wasn’t tired) (and when what she calls her “brain chemicals” were correctly balanced).

Then they were together (he feels himself smile) for a little over a year, now. And in that time, they’ve never been apart as long as this expedition of hers.

And now their home is too cold. Too quiet. And nerves twist his stomach.

It’s almost hilarious. Centuries at seduction, and he’s now reduced to fussing over his clothing as he waits. Second guessing: where he’ll stand, how he’ll position himself. It used to be as effortless as, well, not breathing, but blinking, perhaps (even that’s a stretch). He barely thought about it. Wasn’t entirely present for more than half of it.

But now every moment drags. Her steps up their walkway. The way her lungs draw air. The beat of her heart and there’s no one to witness the slight stumble as his knees go stupidly weak.

He ought to sneer at the thought. A little over a year ago, he would have done far worse. Probably stabbed someone. But now, it’s Eleanor and he missed her, gods help him, and he smooths his hands along his front and takes up position at the door. Waits until…just…there.

Opens that door for her.

Her hand is raised to grab the knob. Now it hovers and slowly falls to her side as she boggles.

He chose well, it turns out. He doesn’t need a mirror to know he looks good. He’s retrieved his heels and laced them up. Unpacked another purchase he kept from her: a long, blood red dress of embroidered silk. It’s a slim fit, meant to hug his form. Would be tight along the legs if it wasn’t for the slit up one side.

The sleeves fall off his shoulders in a way he knows highlights them. She does love his shoulders (loves to clutch them as he works between her legs) (curl her head upon them as he reads to her) (dig her fingers in to try to ease the tense muscles when that blasted joke of an editor at the Baldur’s Mouth throws some feeble counterargument back at him).

But it’s the way her eyes follow along his collarbones to the dip that leads down his chest. It’s his chest that’s her favorite part of him (well, second) (alright, third because she says disgusting things like “your eyes” and “the way you smile” and “but if you didn’t have a mouth, I couldn’t hear you talk about plagues”).

(And she means all of those statements; she’ll just…sit there and listen to him prattle on—)

“Good evening, lover,” he purrs.

She almost drops all three bags she carries.

***

The rest on AO3 so no tumblr horny jail for me.

#a misuse of potions #these two shitheads #astarion smut #tavstarion smut #plus size tav #m/f but not heterosexual #obliterate that elf!

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roguishcat · 6 months ago

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A welcome distraction

Summary: Astarion was not nice. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning. But perhaps, given the right incentive, he could be persuaded to be nice to the one person who he felt deserved it most.

Tags: Fluff, tooth-rotting fluff

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

One-shot, 2.3k words

Set in the beggining of Act II.

Astarion stretched out languidly on Tav’s bedroll, watching her as she looked through their magic trinkets to decide which ones they could do without. Ever since Gale came to her, confessing everything, telling her of his folly, Tav has taken extra care to set aside an item or two that the wizard could consume.

Now, if this was done out of sense of self-preservation, that would be completely understandable. It would be quite unfortunate for that orb in his chest to get so volatile it would just explode at random. Such a waste that would be. The world would lose its most beautiful creature! And just as he was starting to enjoy his freedom! And he supposed the wizard had his uses too.

Astarion blinked slowly and sighed. As nice as it was to have no one try to murder them for a change, he was getting bored. And his favourite source of entertainment seemed to have no time on her hands for him.

And that just wouldn’t do.

He moved closer to Tav and lifted his hand to rest on her head, running his fingers through her hair and then lower down to caress the exposed skin of her neck. Astarion knew that he was distracting her, that was the whole point of the gentle, feather-light touches that made goosebumps rise on her exposed arms. And when that garnered no reaction, Astarion lifted himself up to press his chest against her back, snaking his arms around her middle.

“Darling,” he said smoothly, kissing her shoulder, making a move to lift her shirt enough with insistent hands to expose skin and trace slow patterns just above her hipbones, “don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

“As nice as that sounds, I still have to go through all the scrolls and potions.”

“Nice? I can’t promise anything that uninspired,” he scoffed. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning.

“Something wicked, however,” he drawled, his lips almost touching Tav’s ear “that I could definitely provide.”

“Well, as delicious as that sounds, I’m not moving until I get this done. But perhaps you could help?”

“Tsk, you are no fun,” he pouted, lifting a necklace with the tip of his finger. “What’s this one supposed to do?”

“Let me just check… Misty Step.”

“Keeping it,” he would have squirreled it away earlier, but a part of him felt a sick sort of dread at taking something without waiting for permission first. It was almost like a reflex more than anything. Not to take without permission, lest he be punished.

“If you want,” Tav shrugged with a smile. “Put it into your pile, it’s that one.”

Astarion inwardly preened when he noted it was one of the bigger piles. He spied a bow and two rings perched on top of a set of armour. He supposed getting nice new things was worth an hour of boredom.

It was still a novel concept. Having things of his own. Being given what he needed or simply wanted with no strings attached. And it wasn’t just him that got such treatment. Tav tried her best to make sure that everyone was taken care of to the best of her ability.

Astarion would probably never admit it unless faced with decapitation, but Tav has really started to grow on him. The pleasant manner in which she carried herself, the ferocious way in which she fought, the unwavering loyalty to those she considered friends.

That was yet another novel concept, having friends.

“Darling, I can’t help but notice that you didn’t choose anything for yourself.”

“I don’t need anything right now.”

That was a lie. Her armour breathed its last when they went up against the goblins to protect the Grove. She could definitely use a new pair of boots too.

“As sweet as you are for thinking of others before yourself, I would rather you not become a pincushion next time we are ambushed. Here,” he picked a set of armour at random, “take this.”

“And Shadowheart will have to do without, I suppose?” she raised an eyebrow.

“She’s a cleric. She can heal herself,” Astarion gave a nonchalant shrug. He didn’t care much about what happened to Shadowheart.

Tav laughed, making something warm and pleasant bloom in his chest. He hated how much he enjoyed hearing her laugh.

“Well, this armour is a bit too heavy for me anyway,” she put the armour back and added a couple of scrolls that Shadowheart could make use of. “Maybe I will pick something up next time we need to sell stuff.”

She was right. They did amass quite a collection of useless nick knacks when they looted the abandoned houses in the Blighted Village. And lugging all the bits and bobs that Tav insisted on taking with them was getting rather tedious. Not that he carried much personally. However, he imagined if Lae’zel caught onto him having the lightest load, the gith would personally make sure that his pack would be stuffed to capacity.

Except when they went to sell the items, she once again did not buy anything for herself. Astarion could not understand her ridiculous altruism! Not that he cared that much, but still. Tav dying would most definitely throw a wrench in his plans. Therefore, with that in mind only, he bought Tav new armour, bow and boots.

Strange. The first time he spent money in years, and it wasn’t even on buying something for himself!

The next day, Tav woke up to find that someone had been to her tent. And that mysterious someone left her gifts. Brows furrowing, she picked up a pair of boots. They were clearly enchanted and probably not something they could afford at the moment. And that begged the question, who would splurge so much and not even give it to her personally?

She admired the armour and ran her fingers over the leather. As she shifted it slightly sideways to have a better look at the clasps, something sparkled in a stray ray of light that got in through the slight opening in the tent flap.

Tav noticed the necklace perched on top of the pile.

“Misty Step,” she murmured, a small smile tugging on her lips as her fingers ghosted over the rest of the gifts.

Changing and making herself somewhat presentable, she walked out of her tent and towards Astarion’s, greeting Gale as he prepared their breakfast. To their delight, the group recently stumbled upon a cellar filled with boxes upon boxes of food. Gale was especially pleased at having the opportunity to prepare proper meals for a change rather than have two or three odd ingredients to work with.

When Tav opened the flap of Astarion’s tent and walked in, the elf was already up and apparently deeply engrossed in his book, not even bothering to look up to greet her. Tav waited a beat, but Astarion pointedly refused to acknowledge her. Which Tav knew he had to be doing on purpose, because there was no way that he couldn’t hear her breathing and the staccato of her heartbeat as she grew more nervous by the minute.

Crouching by him, she put her hand on top of the page.

“Darling, as much as I enjoy your presence in my tent, you are distracting me from my reading.”

“I see. Good book?”

“It is. Absolutely riveting.”

She decided not to comment on the fact that he had already read this book twice, as they didn’t come across any new reading material that was of interest to Astarion.

“Help me put this on?” she smiled and handed him the necklace, holding her hair up and leaving her neck exposed, making Astarion’s mouth water.

“Tsk, can’t manage without me, darling?” he teased, but put his book aside.

“I can. But I’d much rather you did it.”

Gently, he slid the jewellery in its place, letting his fingers linger on her skin a touch longer than necessary and making Tav sigh contently.

“Thank you,” she pecked his cheek. “Thank you for looking after me.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. But perhaps come nightfall,” he leaned closer and all but purred, “I could look after you in a-”

“Astarion,” Tav put her fingers on his lips, “thank you.”

“Oh, please! You thought it was me? Darling! Giving you a necklace? Out of all mundane, unimaginative things to gift!”

Astarion inwardly kicked himself. What was he thinking, trading her smile for a blunt comment like that? It wasn’t the way he usually operated. It was counterintuitive, it was stupid. He was supposed to be furthering her attraction to him, so what in the hells was he doing by telling her that the gifts came from another?

“Mmhh, of course it couldn’t have been you,” Tav agreed easily, laying a tender kiss on the underside of his jaw and then another just below his ear, “so sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“I -I argh,” he shuddered as blunt teeth nibbled on his earlobe, “apology accepted.”

“So… who do you propose I should thank then?” Tav breathed against his cheek and then looked him in the eyes.

“Excuse me?” Astarion frowned as she moved away.

“Well, if it wasn’t you that left the armour, the necklace-

“And boots!” he interjected quickly.

“Ah yes, thank you for reminding me,” she nodded, running her hands down his arms to take his cool hands into her own. “Who should I be thanking instead of you, hm?”

“I know! It was probably Shadowheart,” she said with an air of someone having an eureka moment.

“Shadowheart?!”

“No, it couldn’t have been her,” she mused, letting go of his hand to tap a finger on her lips as she pretended to think hard. “Shadowheart didn’t come with us to the vendor. Must be Wyll then, he did comment on my boots being worse for wear.”

“Wyll just spent half the journey flirting with Lae’zel!” Astarion spat with distaste, sounding rather like a scandalised virgin gossiping about a debutante with a questionable reputation.

“True, true. Well, that leaves Gale. Unless it was the only other person who came with me yesterday…”

Astarion swallowed and pouted but didn’t say anything.

“How silly of me to assume it was you. I’ll let you get back to your reading. Off I go to give Gale a proper thank you.”

Tav rose and let go of his hand, making Astarion panic a little. Like hells Gale would be the one getting recognition for the nice thing that he did!

Rising quickly, Astarion grabbed Tav’s waist. She squealed when he spun her round roughly, pressing her body to his.

“You are not going anywhere, you cheeky pup,” he whispered against her neck, his cool breath making Tav shiver involuntarily and grasp onto his shirt.

“And since you insist on thanking me, I will graciously accept your gratitude.”

He was a benevolent creature, after all. And since Tav was in the mood to shower him with affection, he supposed he could allow it.

“Thank you,” she kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” his forehead, just under an errant curl that fell over his eyes as he tilted his head forward.

“Thank you,” she pressed her lips to his, making Astarion groan as he deepened the kiss, one hand steadying Tav whilst the other travelled lower. He nibbled on her swollen, pouty lower lip, enjoying the delicious mewling sound she made and then-

“Breakfast is ready!” Gale’s voice rang jarringly loud from somewhere outside the tent, startling Tav. She withdrew with a sigh, looking more than a little disappointed at having to leave. Ever the dutiful leader, ready to start her day and selflessly brush aside her own wants and needs.

Astarion was having none of that.

“Where do you think you are going, hm?”

“Um, well..” Tav began, but found herself to be quite mesmerised with the heated, predatory look he was giving her.

“I haven’t had my breakfast yet, and I am feeling simply ravenous.”

He pulled the collar of her shirt aside, admiring the way the necklace rested against her skin and then his eyes travelled lower down still as Astarion mused about whether he was being too traditional by drinking from her neck when there were such tantalising, mouthwatering choices to be made.

“May I?” he murmured, trailing his nose against her collarbone, then lower and lower still, brushing against the necklace that rose and fell with her breaths. Astarion felt Tav’s fingers gently thread through his curls, skimming along his ears in a way that had him suppressing a moan.

“Yes.”

She always said yes. And recently rather than thinking her a fool for it, Astarion felt… something else. He couldn’t explain what it was that he felt even if he tried. But Tav was becoming more than a means to an end. More than a target. More than a night that was better to forget.

Weeks later, he would find that she was the light that illuminated the darkest recesses of his mind and soul. The warmth that welcomed and comforted him, preventing him from retreating into himself when he was hit with the horror of what he had done in his years of slavery. She would come to be the only person that he truly cared about. But he didn’t know that yet.

As he drank, Astarion decided that perhaps he would allow himself to enjoy whatever this was. Not overthink it. For now, he would let himself linger on the precipice of making the discovery of what exactly Tav was to him without worrying of what would happen once he fell.

For now, he would let himself enjoy not having to worry about what tomorrow would bring. For now, she would be his most welcome distraction.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk, @anukulee, @preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299, @fleetstreet78,

@starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion tav fanfiction #astarion fanfiction #bg3 tav #fanfic #baldur's gate fanfiction #romance #tooth rotting fluff #roguish cat

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in-the-multiverse · 1 month ago

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While almost everyone carves wooden things, Golden Fool went for shiny. He was the one and only goldsmith on the server and took pride in making beautiful jewelry. It was mostly for himself: dozens of bulky rings so he could flaunt a new combination every week, chandelier earrings ranging from gothic to floral, torque and festoon necklaces when he felt extra fancy, simpler and lighter necklaces on the days that called for a minimal (but still quite stylish) look

The gemstones that were skillfully embedded in them came from…around the server. Didn’t matter where, everything was his anyways. He stood clear of the “cursed” crystals the wizard man had. Ugly plastic

No one else was allowed to wear his jewelry. There were, however, very few exceptions

Milkman isn’t one to wear big, fancy shmancy gold. He likes how they look, but honestly- they’re too clunky and noisy for him. The first thing Fool made for him were gold buttons to replace the wack plastic ones on his jacket. Just a pop of color, a little glamour with a geometric pattern. Halfway through the smithing process, Fool had an idea for a matching gold patch on his hat. Then two extra buttons for the end of his jacket sleeves as well. He tailored them in with care

They were small, dapper, perfect, and Milkman loved them. His partner admired the new look in the mirror. There was an extra shine to him —and not just literally— confidence lit up his face, he had an extra pep in his step as he walked around the server, and those long hours Fool spent making the ornaments look just right became very worth it to see Milkman a little happier

Every now and again, Milkman came to him with a sheepish request for new gold. He promised he was doing his best to not accidentally fall into the void. It held up to be true. As the months went by, void deaths become scarce and the occasional creeper was to blame for lost accessories. And every time he asked for new ones: Fool gave the same deep sigh, crossed his arms and asked “So what design would you like this time?” Milkman always complimented the speed it took for them to be created, and he was delighted by the extra surprises thrown in

Fool didn’t tell him about the hidden chest filled with an array of golden buttons, patches, gemstone hat charms, and hat pins. He saw this coming

In the early days, Vintage wanted to wear dangle earrings with cherry wood flowers. It took a lot of trial and error. During a hangout, she carved off more than expected, kept trying to save it as a smaller design, kept misjudging cuts, until her earrings became sad little chunks. It had been a long week and she almost gave up on wood carving right then and there

Fool sat down next to them and shared a handful of stories where he screwed up gold smithing. Like- taking a sip of molten gold instead of the cup of coffee that was right next to it, or that time he sneezed while etching a very complicated pattern and continued one millimeter off, one exhausted afternoon he chipped off gold from his skin instead of his project—ouch—, and boy was he glad no one else was around the day his (unchecked) workstation collapsed on itself and he had to literally play the floor is lava. With each retelling, he was met with a surprised laugh and the frustration eased from Vintage’s shoulders. She wasn’t alone in making mistakes. If Fool went through it and still made amazing works, it wasn’t hopeless for her

He taught her a couple tricks to get 3d shapes a little closer to what she imagined in her head. Gold smithing and wood carving were very different processes, but any idea began at a sketch

Two weeks later, Vintage gifted him a charm bracelet. It was decently detailed and adjusted nicely to his wrist. Not shiny, but their pride at finally making something look cute and the time they spent on it was more than enough to graciously wear it. A couple days later, Fool surprised her with a beaded bracelet, gorgeously flower themed. They could be matching!

Vintage adored it and showed it off to anyone who stopped to have a conversation with her. When the others yearned for a cool shiny thing like hers, she gave a sweet smile and teased them for being on Fool’s enemy list. Because even if birch was on neutral grounds with someone, it was only a matter of time before crime and chaos fell their way. Anyone who wasn’t a friend was kept at arm’s length. Which meant— no shiny for youuu

One day it disappeared. Must’ve gotten lost in cherry’s god awful storage system. Vintage felt so, so sorry they lost it. They knew Fool spent precious time on it and they’d hate to be a bother asking for another one. But Fool shrugged it off, it was no biggie, really. In fact, it gave him the opportunity to indulge in designs he sketched out. By the end of the week he made a new friendship bracelet, charm necklace, and cuff ring that suited her unicorn horn nicely. Vintage was so happy she nearly cried, she thanked him over and over and promised to keep them in a better place

A few weeks went by, and she was utterly distraught at losing them. All of them. She swore up and down they were in her enderchest, she did wear them out one fancy evening, must’ve forgotten to put it back. They said they checked all over cherry kingdom and retraced her steps, but no shiny :(

Again they lamented to Fool, and again he workshopped another few accessories to replace those. By the 4th time, he started to question her genuineness. His gifts never lasted longer than 3 weeks, it seemed more like a scheduled “disappearance”. It was by chance he spotted her strolling on the edge of the shopping district with her new jewelry. She clasped them off, held a fistful of his work over the edge, and let it drop

He stopped talking with Vintage after that. She’d been acting weird lately anyways. Their handcrafted bracelet went to the void, too

And when Milkman accused him of working behind his back— oohhh

Fool stormed up to the hidden chest and melted everything back into a pot of liquid gold. It was his and he could do whatever he wanted with it. Have it ready to be refurnished into new accessories for himself. Milkman would never get anything new, either

When the Halloween Ball rolled around, he made sure to wear the most exquisite gold he’s ever made. He wanted eyes on him. He wanted people to feel jealous when they looked at him. He wanted admiration like no other and hoped it would draw the others to him. Novelty was the gateway to trust. Just. Everyone to give him another chance

Look at how incredible his gold smithing was! Didn’t you want something shiny too? Didn’t you want to be his friend?

Eyes definitely looked in his direction. But the longer the night dragged on the more self conscious he became. People kept their distance. Fool swatted away any naive hope that dared fester in his lonely soul. Of course they did. They should. Everyone was hiding something, exchanging whispers and glances that could only be about him. How dare he dress himself as a spectacle, and beckon attention when none of them deserved it. Everyone had a weird thing going on with them. Everyone had it out for him. What else did the void want? More of his jewelry? His kingdom? They had to be working together. They wanted to take more from him. He couldn’t trust these…these—

A glint of gold called to him

Amongst the crowd, a singular hat pin shined underneath the chandelier lights. Milkman was lost in his own world, giggling and dancing with someone else

Fool heard the gold on his skin crack and crumble

The greedy one having a love language of gift giving was a pretty big deal

The Librarian knows this, and they know they aren’t here to be a replacement. They leave his goldsmith workshop alone

Let it collect dust

#skyblock kingdoms #bangs fist on table #sobs #thefoolsfam #sadmilkman #vintage applesauce

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angelatmidnight1 · 1 year ago

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hii thank you for feeding us with your bg3 tickle content 😫🙏🏼 I’ve been starving. Do you have any headcanons for ler!Gale with a stoic/tsundere lee!tav? Or really any of the other companions if ur not a Gale girly. tysm ❤️ [ps. tell me if I’ve crossed any boundaries / done something wrong, first time sending an ask 🙂]

A/N: Hi! You didn't cross any boundaries. I know you said headcanons, but I hope a fic was okay instead? This prompt works nicely with my favorite tav and her relationship with Gale- she's a stoic, snooty sorceress. I kept the fic gender-neutral though. I hope you like it! 💜

Pillow Talk

Fandom- Baldur's Gate 3.

Pairing- Gale Dekarios x Reader (ler!Gale, lee!reader). For the purposes of this story, reader is a sorcerer.

Word Count- 3,723.

Warnings- Spoilers for Acts 1-2 (ish), swearing, rivals to lovers in the beginning, and tickles.

As a noble-born sorcerer, there’s very little you don’t know about magic. It’s flown through your family’s veins for centuries. But, Gale’s different. He knows way more than you’d ever expect. As much as you try to deny it, you fall for him, and channeling the Weave together confirms it. Much to your surprise, the feelings are mutual. As your new relationship blossoms, Gale realizes that he’s never heard you laugh before, and he seeks to remedy that.

“Can’t I just break it?”

Karlach whined as she jostled the lock on the door. The lock glowed as she touched it and suddenly sent out a pulse of magical energy. She staggered back, yelping. “Shit! Guess not.”

You maneuvered around her, shaking your head. “It’s a magical lock, Karlach. I told you smashing it won’t do anything.” You stepped closer to the locked door and held up a hand. It glowed as you channeled into your magic. Closing your eyes, you traced your fingers along the lock’s sigils. “This lock is enchanted with psychic magic,” you hissed when the lock pulsed at you, stinging your hands. “And powerful psychic magic at that.”

Gale approached you from the side, humming skeptically. “I hate to be the one to disagree, but these are illusion sigils.” He traced his fingers over the same sigils as you, nodding to himself. “It’s more of a puzzle, judging by the patterns.”

You gave him a side glance, frowning. This was a recurring pattern in your journey. When it came to magic, you and Gale always had disagreements. “...Perhaps. But there’s psychic magic at work here, Gale. Not illusion.”

Gale raised a defensive hand. “There’s room for overlap, surely. However, I think I know the solution.” His eyes glowed as he reached into the Weave and mirrored the patterns on his palm. “If I follow the patterns, like so, I believe it’ll spell out the missing key.”

“Or,” You interjected and charged up a psychic pulse between your hands. “I can overload the sigils with psychic energy and destroy them. I understand this may not have been in your textbooks though.”

“Oh, charming.” Gale’s eyes flitted over to you disdainfully. “I had not planned on mentioning rank, but since we clearly are, I spent a considerable amount of time as Mystra’s chosen. Dismantling puzzles like these was my bread and butter.”

You weren’t backing down. You went through with your spell, directly interfering with Gale’s. “Don’t you mean former Mystra’s chosen?”

“Hey, c’mon, knock it off!” Karlach scolded. “If you two put half the energy into opening the door that you use to argue with each other, we’d be on our way back to camp by now! Now, hurry up.” Her stomach growled mid sentence. She sighed. “I’m starving.”

“Gladly.” Gale sunk deep into the Weave and figured out the patterns needed to unlock the door. Your psychic magic definitely helped smooth the path forward. Karlach cheered once the door opened.

“Fuck yeah!” She turned to both of you, beaming. “See what happens when you put your magical minds together?”

You followed her out of the dungeon, giving Gale a once over. “I see what happens when you pay attention at the wizard academy. The teachers must’ve adored you, Gale.” You huffed sarcastically. “Such a diligent schoolboy.”

Gale shook his head, smirking. “That couldn’t be any further from the truth! I slept through most of my lessons. And the trouble I found nearly got me expelled.” He chuckled. “Nevertheless, we can breathe fresh air now, thanks to our combined efforts. I hope we can work together again in more pleasant circumstances.”

“I’d sooner kiss a mind flayer.” You marched ahead of him, grumbling.

Wizards were so infuriating. Pompous, book-ridden, and proud. And yet, there was something to this Gale of Waterdeep. Something that interested you.

His hubris, as suffocating as it was, was tempered with true expertise. Passion, even. You’d never met anyone like him, not even in Baldur's gate. Magic was everything to you; it shielded you and brought your enemies to their knees. It was thrilling to meet someone who could match you. Plus, he had a gentle heart.

You didn’t plan on saving tiefling refugees, but beating up goblins was fun. During the attack, a tiefling child lost their parents. Neither you or Gale could bring them back to life. Still, he comforted them the best way he could.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He hugged them when they ran into his arms. “These are horrors that no child should have to go through. I…can’t bring them back, but I do have something that I hope can bring you some comfort.”

The tiefling child pulled away, sniffling. “You do?”

Gale conjured up a necklace of illusion magic. He handed it to the child. “This necklace is just for you. I’ll teach you the incantation to trigger the magic. Before doing the incantation, you need to think of a happy memory you have with your parents. Then, you’ll be able to relive that memory so long as you keep the necklace on.”

The child took the necklace and slipped it on. They toyed with the gem at the end, which glowed with a pleasant warmth. They smiled sadly, “Thank you.”

Something stirred in you. You didn’t name the feeling, but it was potent all the same. You felt hot and your heart raced. You’d never say it out loud, but you had a crush on Gale.

Instead of joining the festivities at camp, you turned in early for the night. You grabbed the first book you saw and settled onto your bedroll. Reading usually distracted you, especially when you read about magic. And yet, your mind was occupied by Gale. After failing to get to even the second page, you slammed the book shut. You tucked the book under your arm and ventured out to Gale’s tent. If you couldn’t benefit from the book, maybe he could.

Gale’s tent was a short walk away from yours. The party was dying down, but Gale usually stayed up studying. When you arrived at his tent, though, there was a conjuration of Mystra in his palm. He gazed at the image longingly, not realizing that you were watching. You stepped closer.

“Paying tribute?”

He flinched and whirled around. Mystra’s image disappeared, and he exhaled. “You startled me, (Y/N).” he breathed. “I suppose you could say I am, in a way. Though I can’t say my soul feels any lighter.”

You gave him a questioning look. He continued.

“I hope we can put our earlier disagreement behind us, (Y/N).” He said, taking a few steps towards you. Your heartbeat quickened. “It’s just been so long since I’ve collaborated with anyone regarding magic. I understand that we may have different approaches when it comes to wielding it.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “What’s done is done. Why were you just conjuring an image of the goddess?”

“Oh, that. Well..” He trailed off as if he was unsure of what to say. Then, he cleared his throat. “The longer we embark on our journey, the less connected I feel to the Weave. And, it’s everything to me. It always has been..” He sighed heavily, then looked at you with a sudden air of curiosity. “I know we haven’t seen eye to eye, but from one arcane user to another, would you like to channel the Weave with me? It’s a wonderful experience.”

You put down the book you were carrying, shifting awkwardly. “I’ve never done it. I never feel far from the Weave’s embrace, so I haven’t felt the need to.”

“Lucky you,” Gale chuckled. “Still, my offer stands. I can show you how to do it. What do you say?”

This was usually when you’d rebuff him. Not this time. Your curiosity piqued, and he did look handsome in the candlelight.

“Show me.”

Gale’s eyes brightened. He smiled. “As you wish. Follow my lead.”

Channeling the Weave was effortless. Gale was a wonderful teacher: patient, eager, and generous with praise. The air was sweet, and you felt safe in the Weave’s embrace. You closed your eyes, and your mind wandered again. To home. To Gale. To the thought of your lips pressed together in a passionate kiss—

The connection flickered. You forgot yourself. Your eyes snapped open and found Gale. He looked back at you with an equally surprised expression.

******

It took a week for you to face Gale again. You were terribly embarrassed. All of that melted away when, surprisingly, he reciprocated your feelings.

“I must be a powerful wizard indeed,” He was saying quietly to you during another one of your travels. “If I managed to charm the likes of you. I’m flattered, truly. And, might I say, you have incredibly good tastes.”

“Shh. Do you ever stop talking?” You returned in a hushed whisper, holding back a smile. You and Gale were walking behind Karlach and Astarion, and you didn’t want to catch their attention. Gale noticed the hint of your smile and gasped.

“Is that a smile I see? Oh, I’m afraid you’re done for.” He smirked and leaned into you. His breath tickled your ear, and you shivered. “I haven’t even begun to work my full array of charms on you.”

“What’re you two talking about?” Astarion cut into the private conversation, a curious glint in his eye. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen (Y/N) speak so much.”

Your smile instantly fell. You frowned, “It’s nothing that concerns you, Astarion.”

“Oh, come on.” The spawn pouted. “You’re no fun at all. What’s a bit of gossip among friends?” He looked at the two of you expectantly, but he didn’t get an answer. He huffed. “Ugh, fine. Be that way.”

Once he turned away, Gale whispered to you again. “Let’s continue this conversation in private tonight, hmm? I could prepare a meal.”

“Fine,” you agreed, nodding. “I’ll bring the drinks.”

After dinner, you stayed in Gale’s tent to read together. Many of your companions were either asleep or involved in their own pursuits, so they didn’t notice your empty tent. You were buried under a purple blanket with a book on your lap with him beside you.

“Comfortable?” Gale asked as he cozied up to you. You nodded and pushed half of the blanket to him, which he happily accepted. “Excellent. Now, tell me, when did you realize you were hopelessly enamored with me?”

You looked up suddenly, and he was grinning. A blush creeped up on your cheeks. You smirked. “I believe I could ask you the same thing.”

“You very well could. But, since I asked first..” Gale’s grin widened. “I’ll admit, it is a long list. There are the impassioned debates we have, my words, my award winning smile…”

“Awards?” You shook your head in disbelief. “Who’s given you these awards?”

“Three people, actually.” Gale feigned offense. “Why, there’s me. Myself, who’s a great fellow…”

“Stop.” You nudged his arm, giggling. “You can’t give yourself awards. They don’t count.”

“According to whom?!”

You covered your face, muffling your giggles. “Gods, you’re ridiculous.”

Gale laughed. When you uncovered your face, he was smiling warmly. “I’ve never heard you laugh before. It’s a beautiful sound.”

Your blush deepened. The truth was that you didn’t laugh much, if at all. You usually spurned the company of others, but you felt comfortable in Gale’s presence. You shifted, turning your attention back to your book. “Thank you. Now, are we going to read, or am I to sing your praises all night?”

“Both sound wonderful, though I’d settle for hearing you laugh again.” He slid close to you so that your arms touched. You smiled, keeping your eyes down on your book.

“I’m sure there will be something I can laugh at you about soon.” You chuckled lightly and turned a page. “All in good time, love.”

“You’re terrible, you know?” Gale gently squeezed your side with his free hand. You fidgeted and jostled your book. A metaphorical lightbulb went off in his head, and you eyed him suspiciously.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“Are you-”

“No.”

Gale chuckled. “I haven't finished my question.” He discarded his book to the side. He leaned into you with a small, knowing smile. “Now, before I was so rudely interrupted, are you ticklish?”

You shook your head. “I’m not.” You pressed your arm against your side, settling for holding your book with one hand. “You just startled me.”

“I see.” Gale hummed, rubbing his beard in thought. You thought that would’ve been the end of it, but after a brief pause, he was smiling again. “I do apologize, but I again disagree with you. The signs point to the opposite, I’m afraid.”

“There aren’t any-”

He squeezed your side again. This time, you squeaked and squirmed out of his reach. Gale smirked.

“Right. No signs.” He answered coyly, extending an arm out to reach you. He idly wriggled his fingers and you leaned away even further, unable to hide your grin. “None at all.”

“Gale,” You started warningly, propping yourself up onto your knees. This made your book tumble off of your lap. “I’m warning you. Don’t try it.”

“Surely there’s no harm in a bit of experimentation, is there?” Gale was testing the waters. He observed your body language. If he noticed the slightest bit of discomfort, he’d back off. Your gaze was sharp, but your wobbly grin told him that he hadn’t pushed too far. “You make one claim, I make another. Yet, it’s impossible for both claims to be correct.”

You put your hands out defensively as he inched closer. “D-Don’t come any closer.”

Gale stopped moving. His smirk broadened. “Of course. If that’s what you want, I will humbly oblige.”

Something was off. As a sorcerer, you could detect magic, and he definitely had a trick up his sleeve. It just wasn’t one you were expecting.

The sneaky wizard conjured a hologram of himself behind you. It had crept up behind you while you backed away from Gale. By the time you noticed it, it was too late. It fluttered its fingers into your sides, and you shrieked.

“Gahahle-?!” You let out a short laugh and curled into yourself. You shoved away the hands and whirled around to see the hologram. “Youhu bahahstard.”

“You’ve quite the mouth on you, don’t you?” Gale clicked his tongue, watching you and the hologram with amusement. “It’s actually one of the many qualities I like about you. That, your strength, and your obstinance.”

While he spoke, Gale’s hologram lightly poked at your torso, earning gasps and curses. If it reached a ticklish spot, it was rewarded with a startled giggle. Both Gale and his hologram wore the same smirk. “Are you absolutely sure that you’re not ticklish, my dear?” The wizard spoke over your snickering. “Based on my observations, that theory gets weaker with each passing minute.”

“I’m nohohot!” You bit your lips, muffling any would be giggles. You were losing the battle with the hologram’s hands. Instead, you checked it with your shoulder, trying to bump it hard enough to make it disappear. That tactic not only failed, but gave the hologram the opportunity to pull you in close. Now, with one arm around your waist, it gently pinched and scampered its fingers along your ribs. You exhaled sharply and bit your lip harder. “K-Knohock it off, Gahale-”

Gale held up his hands, feigning innocence. “I’m not doing anything. I haven’t moved, just like you asked.”

“G-Get rihihid of the holograham!”

“Oh!” He made a big show of realizing what you meant. His eyes flicked to the hologram and he charged up a spell in his hands. Or, it looked like he did. You knew better than that; he did nothing. He chuckled sheepishly. “Apologies, I’m afraid he has a mind of his own. There’s nothing I can do.”

“Youhuhu are deahad-”

Gale’s hologram teased your upper ribs with his fingertips. Hissing through clenched teeth, you squirmed in its hold, winding your arms tight around your torso. His fingers were trapped now, so he scribbled his fingers in a side to side motion along your ribs. The laughter was begging to be free, and it made itself known the longer you fought it off. But, if you were going down, you were going down swinging.

As a last ditch effort, you channeled your magic and sent out a small shockwave. It didn’t do any damage, but it did blow things around. Your goal was to break Gale’s concentration on his hologram spell, and it worked. Gale yelled as he stumbled back, and the hologram disappeared.

“Did you just-” Gale looked bewildered. He wasn’t hurt, but his scrolls and books were in a disarray. “Certainly a bit of tickling didn’t warrant an attack on my person!”

“It absolutely did.” You breathed. You rubbed the ticklish sensations out of your skin. “You attacked first, and I responded accordingly.”

“You did not respond accordingly!” Gale picked up one of the books that fell. He dusted off the cover. “You could’ve put a crease in my Magical Histories book.”

For whatever reason, that amused you. It amused you so much that you busted out laughing. Gale made the quick decision to cast a sound barrier spell around his tent, so that your loud laughter wouldn’t disturb your companion’s sleep. You laughed and laughed, collapsing on the floor, and Gale’s cheeks flushed.

“What is so funny?” Gale had to resist the urge to laugh along with you; your true laugh was highly contagious. Once you calmed down, you pushed yourself up into a seated position, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

“You’re-” You couldn’t get through your sentence without snickering. “Youhu’re such a dork.”

“Wha- I will not stand for an attack on my person and my character.” Gale suddenly teleported to you, wrapping both of his arms around your frame. He scribbled across your sides, ribs, hips- anywhere he could reach. You squealed and, arms flailing, fell back into a fit of giggles.

Despite your ticklish panic, you still had some fight in you. While he was invested in tickling your ribs, a highly sensitive spot, you took the opportunity to tickle him back. You shot a hand up and buried it in the crook of his neck, tickling with purpose. Thankfully, he was ticklish too.

He immediately scrunched his neck, giggling hard. “O-Ohohoho nohoho you don’t!” He yelped and abandoned tickling you to wrestle with your hands. You grinned triumphantly.

“You left me no choice,” You wriggled your hand free from his neck and found his side, squeezing repeatedly. Gale giggled louder and gripped your wrist, but this didn’t deter you.

A tickle fight was on, and Gale was determined to win. There was a war of flailing arms and hands before the wizard emerged victorious. With a sudden burst of strength that was sure to make him sore in the morning, he pulled you down to the floor with him.

He set you on his lap, using one arm to pin your own arms to your sides. He didn’t hold on too tightly; you could’ve gotten away if you really wanted. He only held on with just enough strength to keep you from tickling him. Now, with his free hand, he kneaded into your hip bone. You lurched forward, giggling loudly, and he put his leg over yours to keep you put.

“Nahahahaha!” You squeaked as he jumped to your other hip bone. The floodgates were open now as you squirmed in his hold. “Gahahahahle!”

Now, it was his turn to grin triumphantly. He snaked his fingers up your sides, tweaking them with the lightest touch. He nestled his head in the crook of your neck. “There we are, dearest. Much better.” He chuckled into your skin, which only made you laugh louder. “And, if you won’t say it, I’m happy to do it for you. You,” He scampered up to your ribs, playing them like a piano. “Are,” A hand burrowed into your underarm, earning him yelps and cackles. “Definitely ticklish.”

You didn’t realize it at the moment, but the longer he tickled you, the more you sank into his arms. Soft, playful moments were a rarity, especially given the journey you were on. You’d never, ever say it out loud, but you were enjoying yourself. As smug as he was, Gale was being very gentle. “What do you say, (Y/N)? Do you think we could at least agree on that score?”

You hid your face with one hand, letting out a squealing laugh when his hand landed on your stomach. “NOHOHOHO!” You returned, laughing loudly, as you squirmed harder in his lap. He prodded into abdominal muscles and held you a little bit tighter.

“The signs are all there,” He whispered into your ear, teasing you, while he scribbled and poked into your belly. He let go of your arm so that he could use both hands to tickle. You didn’t realize the shift, so you curled into his arms instead of pushing his hands. “There’s the squirming, the squeals, and the laughter, which is quite enchanting…”

You finally grabbed onto his wrists, but still didn’t really stop him. It wasn’t until he gently kneaded his thumbs into the sides of your belly that you finally relented. “OKAHAHAHAY! I’M TIHIHCKLISH, GAHAHALE!”

He immediately stopped, rubbing his palms over your abdomen. “I’m happy we can finally agree on something.” He chuckled. He moved his hands off to the side. “And, I’ll let your cheeky comment slide. What’s more interesting to me is that you had the chance to move my hands, and yet you didn’t. I’m going to make another claim and suggest that you enjoyed yourself.”

You laid your head against his chest, breathing deeply. “And…if I did?” You tried to sound defensive, but there wasn’t any venom in your words. Gale smiled, resting his palm against your cheek.

“Then you’d only be more adorable to me, if that’s even possible.” His thumb rubbed along your skin as he took you in. “Gods, you’re beautiful. And that’s laugh- it’s something of the heavens, truly. I could listen to it all night.”

“But not tonight,” You tapped his nose, chuckling. “I’m exhausted.”

“No matter. I’m sure we’ll have many more nights like these to come. If you’d still like to join me, that is.”

You shifted in his lap so you could face him. You grinned. “I think I could make the time. Shall we seal the deal with a kiss?”

“I would love that.” Gale’s smile widened as he leaned into you, and you met him halfway, pressing your lips into his. Maybe it was because you’re both spellcasters, but the kiss was nothing short of magical.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tickling #bg 3 tickle #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios x tav #ler!gale #ler!galedekarios #lee!reader #lee!tav #gale dekarios #reader insert #gale of waterdeep #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale of waterdeep x tav

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defectivevillain · 1 year ago

Text

where the blackbird sighs

pairing: M. Rasmodius (the Wizard)/Reader

reader's gender is unspecified and race is ambiguous; no physical descriptors are used.

summary: The farmer doesn’t see the wizard, Rasmodius, as a viable option for romance. Rasmodius is fine with that. Really, he is.

word count: 2.3k | ao3 version

Rasmodius doesn’t quite care about Pelican Town, nor does he have any strong feelings for Stardew Valley. He isn’t the same as the mortals that inhabit the quaint town, and that is painfully apparent within the first few moments of his relocation. They are suspicious of him—cautious at best and entirely avoidant or fearful at worst. Rasmodius wants to be annoyed, but he can’t find it in himself to care what a few flimsy mortals think of him. He is different from them, after all. And humans have always feared what they can’t understand.

A farmer comes by at some point. Rasmodius doesn’t know how long it’s been since he first moved to the tower—time is hard for him. All he knows is that the man takes one look at him and promptly runs away. Rasmodius doesn’t see him again. He forgets after what must be only a few minutes.

The wizard doesn’t remember this interaction until he is struck with an intense déjà vu years later. There’s another farmer standing on his doorstep. You look different than the other one, but there’s a determined look in your eyes that reminds Rasmodius of the man that came before you. The wizard can’t help but be skeptical.

“What do you want?” He asks, half-expecting you to take one look at him and run in the opposite direction.

“I just wanted to introduce myself,” you respond, before doing just that. You offer a hand for him to shake and Rasmodius stares at it for several moments. It takes him a moment to remember the mortal custom, and another to remember to extend his hand and shake yours. “You may have met my grandfather. I’m taking over his farm now.”

“Ah,” the wizard responds, feeling somewhat at a loss for words. Rasmodius finds himself waiting for you to leave. You don’t seem intent to do so, and are instead surveying his home with interest. He wants to scold you for snooping, but you just seem curious. Admittedly, the curiosity is a welcome difference from the typical skepticism or unfounded fear that the other villagers show him. Perhaps that is why he finds himself entertaining the conversation. “You have your work cut out for you.” He can see your farm from the top of his tower, and the last time he looked, it was filled with weeds, rocks, and fallen branches. There’s going to be a lot of clean-up required for you to make the farm even somewhat usable.

“Yeah, definitely,” you say with a heavy sigh. You seem overwhelmed at the reminder of just how much work you’re going to have to do, and Rasmodius is suddenly filled with the inexplicable and foreign urge to comfort you. He manages to suppress it. “Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and say hello. It was nice to meet you. See you later.”

“Goodbye,” Rasmodius finds himself answering. Indeed, it will most likely be goodbye. He doesn’t expect to see you again. By now, he’s caught onto the typical pattern. Villagers who try to speak to him will only stop by a few times, before abandoning him altogether. He’s used to it, and he certainly doesn’t find himself relying on any of them. Even so, it’s… disappointing. Is he really so off-putting?

Rasmodius shakes it off. It doesn’t matter. It’s not important; you’re not important. Time will pass, and he will never see you again. That is how things always happen. Why would he want them to be different? This solitary lifestyle suits him well. He enjoys living away from people, and enjoys the freedom his tower gives him. So what’s this swooping feeling in his chest?

Eventually, the feeling goes away and he forgets about it. But Rasmodius doesn’t forget about you. He can’t forget about your glimmering eyes, the smile on your face as you conversed with him so naturally. He could never forget the way you commanded his attention, his eyes finding you as a moth finds a flame-

Rather than dwell on these thoughts, he immerses himself in the arcane. It’s a suitable distraction, and the thoughts are momentarily kept at bay. At least, until he hears someone knocking on his door some time later.

The wizard growls and walks over to the door, fully intent on shooing the visitor away. When he opens the door, the cryptic insult he means to say falls back in his throat. You’re standing on his doorstep, and a lighthearted smile rises on your face once you see him.

“Hey!” You greet him brightly.

“...Hello,” Rasmodius responds, after a moment of hesitation.

“Mind if I ask you something?” You ask. Ever so polite, he thinks to himself. Who would he be to refuse?

“Go ahead,” the wizard says.

“I was poking around in the Community Center… and I found a scroll with some writing on it,” you begin. Immediately, Rasmodius thinks he knows what writing it must’ve been. “I couldn’t read what it said, but I figured you might know…” You trail off, looking hesitant and embarrassed all of a sudden. The wizard watches as you pull a scrap of paper out of your pocket and hand it to him. It seems you transcribed the message on the scroll. Sure enough, the message was written in the language of the Juminos—as he suspected.

Rasmodius could give you the translation. However, he gets the feeling this won’t be the only time you’ll have a use for knowing the language. “I have an easier solution to this dilemma,” the wizard remarks, beckoning you in. You step into the tower behind him and Rasmodius looks around his shelves until he finds what he’s looking for. He turns back to you and extends the vial of potion towards you. You take the vial immediately, but you seem hesitant to drink the potion. “It’s the essence of the forest.”

For a moment, he thinks you won’t drink it. You tip your head and he lets the substance fall through your lips. For a moment, you’re entirely silent as you swallow the potion. Then, suddenly, you’re blinking and rubbing your eyes roughly.

“What was that?” You ask, tears running down your face.

“The essence of the forest,” Rasmodius maintains. “As I said.” He was starting to get the sense that you trusted him. He must’ve been wrong.

“My vision is spinning,” you remark casually, rubbing tears from your eyes. “It’s so bright.”

“Ah, yes,” Rasmodius recalls. “It tends to have that effect.” “Could’ve used a warning next time,” you mutter, just loud enough for him to hear. It is difficult for Rasmodius to suppress a chuckle at that. Who knew mortals could be so amusing? You then turn to him with renewed vigor. “But thank you. Seriously, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” You place a hand on his shoulder for a moment, before bidding him farewell and leaving. Rasmodius remains frozen in place for some time after your departure. He can’t remember the last time another mortal was so willing to converse with him—and touch him, no less.

The next seasons come and go without warning. Summer morphs into fall in the blink of an eye, and before long, there is snow on the ground. Rasmodius doesn’t place much importance on time, yet even he feels somewhat helpless to its flow. Winter transitions into spring. The wizard continues on, the same as always. Nothing is different.

Until you’re knocking on his door again.

You haven’t visited since your last conversation about the Juminos, yet you’ve never left Rasmodius’s mind. Now, as you stand in the doorway once more, he finds that time has treated you well. There’s less visible tension in your shoulders, and a lighter air about you. Perhaps springtime has something to do with that.

“Hello,” you remark.

“Hello,” Rasmodius responds cautiously. Old habits die hard, and he continues to be distrustful of humans. By now, he should know that you’re different. Indeed, although he hasn’t had the chance to have a full conversation with you, he’s seen you wandering in the woods near his tower. Sometimes, you’ll catch him staring and send him a wave. Other times, you seem too preoccupied to notice the tower in the distance.

“Are you going to the Flower Dance?” You ask, breaking him out of his thoughts. The wizard regards you for a moment.

“‘The Flower Dance’?” He repeats, confusion coloring his tone. This must be another mortal custom he is unfamiliar with.

“It’s the festival on the 24th,” you elaborate.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Rasmodius remarks honestly. He isn’t very interested in the human celebrations around Pelican Town.

“Oh,” you respond. He must be imagining the disappointment tugging your lips into a slight frown. For a moment, there’s nothing but an awkward silence. “Well, I’d like to see you there.” You say.

You’re gone before he can process the gravity of your statement. Why do you want to see him at the festival? What purpose would it serve you?

Rasmodius doesn’t plan on giving the foolish celebration even a moment of his attention. He goes back to his studies and resolutely ignores any thoughts of your hopeful expression. Yet, when the 24th arrives, he finds himself standing at the edge of the thick woods as the spring breeze gently rustles his hair. Everyone at the festival is mingling on the grassy plain, and the local shopkeeper is selling small souvenirs. There seems to be a sense of anticipation lingering in the air. Rasmodius overhears that there will be some sort of dance between the villagers. The wizard thinks the idea of a dance is rather foolish and performative, but the villagers seem to be looking forward to it. Rasmodius lets his gaze wander. He can feel the wary gazes of the townsfolk. Why is he here, again?

Then, you appear, wearing crisp clothing and a hesitant smile. You flit about the area, speaking to nearly everyone. Whatever the mayor says is enough for you to get flustered, your body language minutely shifting to reflect… hesitation? Nerves? The mayor laughs then, clapping a hand on your shoulder. Rasmodius feels his brows furrow at the display.

Rasmodius watches from afar as you continue walking around the field. The entire town’s eyes seem to be on you, as a restless anticipation settles in the air. All the potential suitors seem enamored with you, and why wouldn’t they be? You’re the beloved farmer—the one who is actively improving the town and supporting the economy. You’re the hero of Pelican Town. Rasmodius is just the wizard that lives in the faraway tower. He feels somewhat akin to the princess in those foolish fairy tales—locked away behind walls of stone and cascading ivy, forced to spectate as time passes.

You’re about to choose a dance partner. He can’t watch for much longer. An ugly feeling prickles along his skin and Rasmodius feels himself turning his back, walking away from the foolish celebration. He leaves the festival with an ugly feeling prickling along his skin. (If the wizard had stayed a few moments longer, perhaps he would’ve seen the troubled look on your face as you looked around for him.)

For a while after that, Rasmodius is bitter. He knows the feeling isn’t fair—knows that you probably didn’t even know he was at the Flower Dance, couldn’t see his position deep in the shaded trees and far enough away for people not to stare. But emotion never bends to rationality.

Life goes on. The seasons change once more. The farmer visits him every so often, bringing him gifts of void essence, super cucumber, and purple mushroom. He wonders how you know exactly what will be useful to his studies. Somehow, you always seem to know when he needs company. The moment Rasmodius starts to feel isolated and alone, you’re suddenly standing on his doorstep with a smile on your face and a gift in your hands.

For a second, Rasmodius is fooled into thinking you’re treating him differently than the other villagers. It doesn’t take him long to notice that nearly everyone has received a gift from you at one point or another—that you’re almost constantly walking around to speak with everyone. Rasmodius isn’t special.

One particular visit, you bring him void essence and ask him a question. It’s one he’s heard before. “Are you going to the Flower Dance?”

Rasmodius doesn’t have any reason to hesitate, but he does anyway. A small part of him thinks of being forced to watch you dance with someone, someone else. He takes a deep breath. “Perhaps,” he responds.

“Alright,” you respond, a slightly quizzical look on your face. Rasmodius walks away, conflict rising within him. He doesn’t want to see you dance with someone else. But if there were a chance, however small, that you’d dance with him…

It’s a calculated risk, Rasmodius thinks to himself as he stands in the very far corner of the field. He’s within view this year, for reasons he can’t quite explain. That air of apprehension is back, and it’s affecting him, too. Rasmodius is waiting for a moment that he is almost positive will never come.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder. Rasmodius nearly jumps out of his skin, before realizing it’s you.

“Hello,” you remark, an easy smile on your face. You’re wearing the same sharp style you wore last year, and Rasmodius can’t help but think it suits you.

“Hello,” he repeats, once he’s gotten a rein on his thoughts. For a second, there’s silence as he stares at you.

“…May I have this dance?” You ask. Rasmodius’s eyes widen. You’re staring at him like he holds the entire universe in his hands, like he has the power to freeze time just for the two of you to share this single moment. Your hand remains extended toward him, an open invitation.

Rasmodius quells a smile and takes your hand.

taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall

#defectivevillain #male reader #gn reader #x male reader #x gn reader #stardew valley #Stardew Valley x reader #Stardew Valley x gn reader #Stardew Valley x male reader #Rasmodius x reader #Rasmodius x male reader

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satin-velvet · 26 days ago

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˚ · . 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒 ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒲𝒾𝓏𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓍 𝐹!𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 ( 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 3 ) Pt. 1, Pt. 2 ｡˚ ⋆

summary: you are taken to the library as promised. you and the wizard come up with a fun idea.

note: sigh.. need.. jeff.. goldblum.. anyway, i had fun writing this. i still have to figure some things out for it, but, it’s coming along nicely. I feel like I need to write more, just sit down and do it, but it’s hard. I hope everyone had a lovely holiday, as did I! I have no idea how many parts this will have. I knew going in it wasn’t going to be similar to my first 4 part series. I’ll do more with this one. enjoy <3

disclaimer: older man, younger woman

🕰️ ˚ · . ⋆｡˚

The library had always been stunning to you, with it’s towering bookshelves and large skylight that bathed everything in morning light. the walls seemed impossibly high, the emerald surfaces catching the light and shimmering quietly. gold filigree worked it’s way up the sides and along the floor, polished to perfection. The second floor was framed by gold balcony railing with vine-like patterns carved within, the stairs a dark, translucent green. You had been in here plenty of times before, so finding the section you needed was perfectly simple. Unlinking your arm from his, you walked over to the right side of the bookshelves. You had read most of it, especially the ‘magic’ section, but you wanted to finish up the last volume in a series Madame Moribble had suggested.

“You know, I never spend much time in here.” He said, his voice trailing off a little. He followed behind you, watching as you inspected the books on the shelves.

“Why not?” You asked, picking out a few books on wand specifics.

“Oh, I just, uh, never find the time. I’m glad you use it, though.” He answered, glancing around as if seeing the space for the first time. You supposed a wizard would have important things to do, things that hindered his library time.

“That makes sense.” You hummed, moving to the next section. “Have you read anything in here?”

He pauses for a moment, perhaps considering his answer. “Not recently. Any recommendations?”

“Um..” You pulled a book out, setting it atop your growing stack of literature. Most of what you read was studying material, and people didn’t read those for fun. “I’m not sure. What genres do you like?” Feeling satisfied with your selection, you moved to a nearby table and set your books down with a soft thud. You could get through all of them by the afternoon if you really concentrated, but you guessed the only rush was the pressure you were putting on yourself.

“Maybe romance, fantasy..” He listed, observing your movements with a keen interest. “You make reading look so fun, I might just pick it back up.”

You chuckled, glancing at him before an idea popped into your mind. “You should find a book, then we’ll read it together. There’s plenty of option.” You gestured to the bookshelves behind you.

“Really? Together?” He echoed, sounding a little more hopeful than you expected. You figured reading together would be much more fun than reading alone, and, spending time with the great and powerful oz was quite nice.

“I’ll find something great, then.” He smiled, looking around before deciding on a bookshelf near the window. While he was busy doing that, you tapped the top of your wand against your palm. It was a nice wand, indeed, but it wasn’t very magical, you had noticed. Waving it in circle motions, you aimed it at the books, stacked atop one another and oblivious to the spell you were trying to conjure in your mind. Should they float? Shake around? At the moment, they weren’t doing anything. Imagining floating books in your mind, you closed your eyes and attempted your best concentration as your wand focused on the books. You squinted after a few seconds, but the books hadn’t moved. Not even an inch.

You tried a few more times, positioning the wand differently, changing the way you were holding it.. but nothing seemed to work. With a sigh, you set the wand down on the table with a little more force than intended, sending the top book upwards before it hit the table with a thud, flopping onto the ground. It was like you were frozen in shock; if you blinked, you would’ve missed it completely. You stared at the book, laid out on the floor, as if willing it to move again. You crouched down, and slowly picked it back up, turning it over in your hands. Perhaps your sedulous studies had paid off.

“Okay, I’ve picked out some good ones..” The wizard said, approaching the table and setting down the large stack of books he had selected. You looked over it with a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

“That’s.. a lot of books.” Stepping closer, you read the spines, trying to make out what you could from the titles. It had to be at least 7, 8 books. Most of them seemed to be romances, which wasn’t surprising considering your previous conversation.

“Well, I might’ve gotten a bit carried away..” he laughed nervously, “but, uh, you know..”

“It’s something to do. And, actually, you just missed it, but I was trying to cast a spell.” You grabbed your wand. “And it wasn’t working at first, but then, I set the wand down and the book.. like.. flew up in the air then hit the ground.”

He crossed his arms over his chest as you finished your elucidation. “That’s quite remarkable, darling. Wish I had been here to see it.” He praised.

You adjusted your hat, trying to hide the sudden warmth blooming your cheeks. It was pretty remarkable, you thought. You smiled, looking back to the books he had selected. Picking one off the top, you looked at the cover. It seemed like a cute fairytale romance, and you found it a little endearing he would be into stuff like this. You held it up. “We could start with this one?”

“Sure. I thought that one had a lovely cover.. don’t you think?” He asked, glancing around the room again.

“Oh, the cover? It is really nice.” You agreed.

“Right here,” he said, gesturing to a spot near the window. It was almost encased by sunlight, with sheer curtains creating a shimmering effect on the floor. “We could read it right here.”

You followed him, no immediate objections coming to mind. This spot looked really nice, and a little cozy, too. “Sounds good to me.” You nodded, taking a seat against the window. The warmth of the sun shining down on you was pleasant and calming. He sat down next to you, a little closer than you had expected. Your legs were almost touching.. not that it mattered to you, of course.

You rested the book in your lap, flipping it to the first page. You turned, to say something to the wizard, but realized he had already been leaning over your shoulder. You flinched a little, realizing how close your faces were. He looked up too, but seemed a little less surprised than you were.

“Oh. Uh, sorry darling.”

˚ · . ⋆｡˚ pt. 4 soon!

#wicked2024 #jeff goldblum #the wizard x reader #wizard x reader #great and powerful oz x reader #the wizard fanfiction #oz x reader #wizard of oz #wicked #wizard #oz #wizard fanfiction

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triglycercule · 26 days ago

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who asked for this. nobody. but unfortunately as a creator i actually have to CREATE for my au 😞😞😞😒😒😒 jk fashion au ink and swap designs ig,,,,,,

ink. ink. ink. she's totally not holding a gun to my head as i type this,,,,, because she CANT break the fourth wall ok she totally doesnt realize that she's forever gonna be stuck living life as a high schooler with no chance of ever graduating or progressing in life,,,,, BECAUSE THERE'S NO ANGST IN JK FASHION AU HAAHAHAH 😁😁😁😁 anyways she's soooo silly :3333 i'm not a connoisseur of anyone that's not the mtt (biased 🙂🙂🙂) but i wanted her to be silly but also a bit freakish,,,, ya!

what do the people think about INK???? featuring everyone in jk fashion au so far 😇😇

dream: "ink is another one of my close friends. she's been there for me when even nightmare couldn't, and i've supported her likewise. sometimes her head is in the clouds, so i send her texts to remind her of things like homework and such. maybe she forgets lunch sometimes, so swap and i give her a share of ours. and when ink wants to talk about anything she's thinking of, whether it's a painter's use of color or the reason we exist, i'm always open to listening. she's an amazing person, really."

nightmare: "ink. ah, that girl is an enigma, truly. somedays she supports me on my path to world domination, and other days she just laughs at me and says as if it were a fact that i would never achieve it! ugh... but despite my slight grievances, she's dream's friend, and i've grown fond of her. quite often, without me even requesting, she gifts me paintings. now, they may seem normal at first, but recently i've discovered a pattern with them. as if ink had peered into the mind of god and depicted it visually, the paintings assist me in handling dream appropriately. i must say, she's skilled as well..."

killer: "see now ink? she's my type of gal. we get along pretty well, hehe! we're on the same wavelength or something, i dunno. not like she can predict what i do, but i wouldn't be surprised if she could, but ink and i just click. we talk about all sorts of silly stuff; similar sense of humor, after all. ink and i can yap about different shows and movies we've watched and stuff, she gives really good insight on the more technical stuff like color psychology and framing, and she once drew me art for one of my big follower milestones on twitter! she's suuuuper cool, haha!"

dust: "okay, just... keep this between me and you, but i think ink has some sort of secret sixth sense? i dunno. nothing against her, she's a fun person. just that, uh... sometimes she just comes up to me when i least expect it and starts asking me about my progress on my writing. which is... confusing. i've only ever told killer and horror about my writing, so i don't know how she knows...?"

horror: "y'know, dust and i have a bit of a bet going on. all jokes and all, but i've got a feeling ink's pulling some sort of elaborate spying prank with how much she knows about us... dust doesn't think so. but i'm betting 20 bucks she does. like, once i was at a vending machine and the stupid thing didn't give me my goddamn candy bar, ugh. i had to stay cool. but then ink just pops out of nowhere, says its okay for me to drop the act and get mad around her, and then does some sort of vending machine trick to get the candy?? yeah, she's definitely a wizard or something. in a nice way, i guess."

NOW SWWAAAAAAPPP she's silly. i included the bit of her getting into trouble because of her good will SOLELY because swap gets bullied a lot in other aus 💀 (askerror, something new, etc,,,,,,) i also read a canon underswap doc??? SWAP IS SO SILLY!!!!! i cant really explain her personality through text i'd need to draw comics for her which uhhhh,,,,, (looks away)

THOUGHTS ON SWAP????

dream: "ah, swap! she's one of my dearest friends, i truly care for her deeply. out of sheer coincidence it seems, that she, ink, and i were chosen to be the star students of the school, but surprisingly it works out well... swap's truly a delight. she's a great motivator, and she's saved me from a few situations that would've ended up terribly had she not been there, hehe."

nightmare: "sometimes the world hates me. ah- well, what i meant was, the path of fate has me set on a predetermined path of struggle! and yet, when even i, the queen of negativity, could not stop my kin from slipping on a ridiculously placed banana peel and almost breaking her neck, swap was her knight in shining armor and caught her. needless to say, just as fate despises my bloodline, fate also has angels sent down from heaven. i do suppose swap is one of those, bless her soul."

killer: "heh, swap?? that girl's a riot! couple years ago i tried convincing her to show me some of those sick moves she learned at kickboxing, or karate, taekwondo, whatever... she broke my wrist, haha! but then i pulled a knife on her and then we both got in trouble. hah, good times, good times. no, i didn't stab her?! in fact, she's very good friends with mr. mew and the grumpen, thank you very much! a friend of my kitties is a friend of mine!"

dust: "she's nice. her type of energy is something you only see is like... a sugar-rushed ink, and killer normally. but anyways, swap's a good help around the school. she's a bit ridiculous every now and then with all her "the magnificent swap" and how she's a bit of a showoff, but whatever. aren't we all? anyways, at least the scavenger hunts she makes during school dances are fun."

horror: "swap is uh... she's something. gotta admit, she's pretty normal compared to some of the people at this school. but man... enthusiasm, much? eh, whatever. i'm not the type to complain when her burritos are to die for. we're partners in cooking class... let's just say, she carries us hard."

anyways jk cross and epic soon. sooner than you think heheheh

#jk fashion au #banana peels and dream are a reoccurring theme btw #nightmare has NIGHTMARES of banana peels. they are her biggest opp. DREAM KEEPS ON FUCKING SLIPPING ON THEM HELP #FOR CONTEXT THE STORY KILLER WAS TALKING ABOUT HAPPENED IN 2020 #so killer was a bit deranged back then! haha! good times indeed #so ink MIGHT be self aware she might not. i've just decided now that she wont be alone in the self aware club (error......pspspspspsp)#star students are best buddies!!!! theyre best buddies!!!!!!!! i love friendship and kindness!!!!!!!!!#also technically ink could go by she/they in jk fashion au (i MIGHT forget this detail later on sorry!!!!!)#cant wait to make classic and fell so swap can also have an alternate group of buddies #it might seem like jk mtt think well of swap individually but dont be fooled #they bully her (/pos) when theyre all together 😭😭😭 its all in good fun tho :333 #ink doesn't have the tattoos og ink does because no multiverse shenanigans #so in replacement!!!!! the doodles on the legs :3333 #this was so fun but also difficult figuring out dynamics between characters i wouldnt normally think about #like fucking horror and ink???? craaaazyyyyy. killer and swap was all on purpose tho #for context on killer's story about swap and her kitties read the next upcoming jk fashion au hcs (hopefully i will post soon :3)#ANYWAYS im a bit scared to go outside of my usual mtt corner of the internet...... but whatever!#whyyyy am i even tagging this LMAO i just need the references and the character interactions #if this flops that will be ok with me i only use these posts to stay in character if i ever make a 4koma or whatever :p #ink sans #swap sans #star sanses #utmv #sans au #dream mentioned in this..... idk about the others but MAYBE ill tag that too just out of association #dream sans #thank you to the Two JK Fashion AU fans you guys keep me going ‼️‼️‼️

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strangelittlestories · 2 months ago

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My teammates tell me I’m gonna to croak on the job.

They don’t mean soon. They’re not, y’know, assholes about it. They don’t mean I’mma get myself ended because I’m not good enough. They don’t even mean I’ll bite off more than I can chew. I can chew a lot, metaphorically speaking.

(And, like, sure I’ve snuffed it once or twice in the course of a mission - but it never *sticks*. And, sure, my team would probs suggest I add ‘so far’ to that sentence. But ‘hell never sticks … so far’ is grammatically weird, I think, so I reckon I’m morally in the right.)

What they mean is: I’ll never let myself leave the job, so of course I’ll lose myself to it.

Which. Y’know. Fair.

A lot of folks in the profession have this issue, of course. When you’re in the world-saving game, it can be tough to justify quitting and letting someone else take a turn.

I call it the Heroic Paradox. The ‘Heradox’, if you will.

Paradox part 1: an apocalypse demands a ‘hero’ or ‘heroes’. If it does not find one, a hero must be created. This is rough for the hero, ‘cos they’re a normie with a normal life and the process of going hero mode will take that life away from them.

(I’m actually not a huge fan of the term ‘hero’, but ‘designated end-of-days preventer’ is lengthy.)

Paradox part 2: if an apocalypse begins and the hero(es) already exists, then job’s a good’un, just crack on with business and de-apoc the lypse.

Paradox part 3: if the hero(es) are a few apocalypses deep and now pondering retirement on a nice little island/farm/wizard tower/public office, you hit that awkward moment where a hero is called for, but not yet present. Best case scenario: some poor schmuck gets their life ruined by ‘destiny’.

Worst case? The hero refuses the call or gets snuffed out early or *there just isn’t anyone appropriate* and that situation really puts the ‘scat’ in ‘eschatology’.

So … yeah, I don’t see myself retiring.

But if I’m honest - if I peer really intensely at the squirming pile of neuroses that lurk beneath the justifications - I was this way *before* the stakes got this high. I’ve always been a ‘crisis mode’ kinda jerk.

Lurching from mission to disaster to disastrous mission has always been where I feel most *myself*.

Now you (or my team) might say: that’s no way to live. Everyone needs downtime. Rest. Enrichment.

It’s been the downfall of many a hero that they hit crisis mode so hard, they don’t bother going to *therapy*.

My answer to this is simple: if you treat self-care and self-maintenance as being *really fricking urgent*, you can roll that work into your *existing* crisis pattern.

This is actually pretty sustainable. Because first: that stuff *is* urgent and you’re a bilge-organist if you don’t realise it. And second: the best kind of therapy is always the one you’ll *actually do*.

So yeah: I’ll pass away on the job. Because even the soft fuzzy nonsense I do … it’s all for the job.

And you know what? If it means I’ll exit this world knowing who I am? I’m okay with that.

---

Ko-Fi supporters! Please submit your prompts/requests for November and any months you've missed :)

https://forms.gle/PKgyrFxfYEQosVdn8

#writing #microfiction #flash fiction #writeblr #wtwcommunity #this is a callout post #mostly it's a callout post for me and my rpg characters

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creamsoda-slut · 21 days ago

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Hello I've been working on my fix it pile! These were done yesterday and today.

During a car ride, I did some hand sewing on the pocket of my blue heathered sweatshirt. Photo below. (Top of pocket, both sides.)

I tried reattaching a bra band and that ended poorly. I need to retry with pins (criminal error I know).

After this failure, I tied knots in the loose gathering stitches in the hem of these Patterned Pants. I was not about to try replacing them.

After that I ironed on several backing patches to areas in need of reinforcement. Photos are of said blue sweatshirt and grey utility pants.

I then spent several hours on my Nice Grey Sweatpants, which had fallen victim to Thighs (Crouch Holes). I hemmed the backing patch first, since I was using Real Fabric (previously purchased, I matched the Type rather than color). Then I pinned it in place so that I could go over the holes areas with a buttonhole stitch. (I had much fun reading the sewing machine manual stitch guides.) After that, I removed the pins and used the X embroidery technique, whose name I forget, in a rectangular swirl. Photos of outside and inside below; black thread is the buttonhole stitches, and the light grey thread is the embroidery stitches (looks so beautiful outside, and like a strange and unusual wizard maze on the inside).

I finished the night off with placing the reinforcement stitches on the grey utility pants. Getting the sewing machine to Behave for the belt loops was Hard. The nice looking pocket reinforcement was hand sewn last spring. The iffy looking one goes over the previously placed patch. I love these pants :]

This morning, I decided to start easy and used my embroidery thread to repair ripped seams in my stuffed animals and also to reclose the entirety of the Hot Glue Poptart Pillow. (Photo below left to right: Growler, Acheron, Red Rex, and The Creeper. Poptart in bottom left.)

For my final repair of the morning, I finished the blue sweatshirt repairs and added a decorative patch! Repair was the stitching for the iron-patched pocket corner. (Can be seen in the patch batch of photos.) Pictured below: Decorative patch, placed on the left breast side, my "Beaver Merit Badge" that my mother got me for my birthday this past year.

#soda sews #soda stories #there is backstory to the beaver merit badge however its not for this post #repairs #visible mending

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r0mantic-f00l · 1 year ago

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this ones got a little kick to it :,)

Say Don't Go

Rain fell down in heavy drops and in large amounts, a strong army standing with the wind against the trees and ground, crashing down with such a force. Smell of water lingered in the air, as rain droplets raced on windows and unlucky people ran to the nearest covering.

It was nice to watch as the rain fell in patterns across the ground. Nice to hear the melody of water hitting the roof, almost soothing you to sleep.

Of course, you could not sleep, because how could you shut your eyes for even a minute and not see your boyfriend for what felt like days? No, you could not torture yourself without the sight of his smile, his eyes that had ocean water trapped in them, his raven black waves that screamed to be touched. Which is what you were doing, twirling a strand of Regulus' hair between your fingers as if it was second nature, as if that was the only function for your fingers.

He sat across from you, reading a book by an author you had never heard of, but it was quite popular in the wizarding world. Apparently, not quite popular enough for you to have known it. Still, you listened to his soft, calming voice that ran through your body and stayed in your heart. For the last minute or so, you were not paying attention to the book but rather the way his lips curved into a peaceful grin as his eyes scanned over the familiar words, his left hand holding the book open as his right hand brushed over your forearm, fingers drawing finger-eights as his hair fell across his eyes.

It was true serenity, a moment in yours and Regulus' relationship that you knew you would treasure forever.

You felt something deep in your heart, getting heavier and heavier everything you saw him. It wasn't an unwelcome feeling however, it was a feeling you embraced and found glee in.

Love. You loved him. You loved him dearly. And even though it had been only a couple months, you were not ashamed of your feelings, for your relationship was not a casual, passing fling. No, you believed it was meaningful, the type of relationship you would only dream of and never thought it was real. When you found it was real, when you found him, you felt at home. At peace.

"You're not paying attention, are you?" Regulus accused, though he had slight smile whilst he spoke.

"No, no, I am! I'm just..." You leaned your head on the couch arm and grinned brightly at him.

"Admiring you."

He flushed, his smile growing sheepish as he poked your arm with his ring finger.

"Admiring what?" He said, as if he didn't know how the stars wept as they wished to glow as bright as the flecks in his eyes.

"Hm, your hair," You ran your fingers through his hair, Regulus' eyes fluttering shut as he hummed at the lovely feeling.

"Your eyes," Your fingers then brushed the hair away from his eyes.

"And your lips." You then brushed over his lips, making the poor boy blush a furious red.

"..I don't think I want to read anymore."

You laughed, leaning forward towards Regulus as he grinned at your laughter and joined in with you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

Once the laughter subdued, you both glanced up at each other and smiled, a smile that said everything and nothing.

You can't remember who leaned in first, but you remember smiling as you both kissed, a gentle but loving action as you let love overtake your mind.

Regulus pulled away first, resting his forehead on yours as he kept his eyes closed still, a smile lingering on his lips.

Your eyes were open, and your lips reflected his smile.

"I love you." You whispered.

His smile faltered and his eyes opened. Regulus drew away from you only by a slight, but to you it felt like he built a wall between the two of you.

"What did you say?" He asked, his eyes glancing between yours as his hand still held on to your forearm, although looser in its grip.

"I-I love you." You gulped, smiling wider as you tried to interprete his expression.

The boy seemed shocked, confused but most of all afraid.

You felt fear then in your heart, but a different fear to his; a fear of your deep, overwhelming love not being reciprocated to the boy you thought could be your forever. In hindsight, it was foolish really, but love is for beautiful fools and hopeless daydreamers.

It seemed Regulus was neither.

"Oh."

He sighed, moving away from you, his hand slipping from your arm as he stared out the window, his eyes avoiding yours.

You silently willed him to say something, to say anything, but he didn't. No, he sat there, choosing to watch the rain fall than to talk to you about feelings, feelings that perhaps he didn't repricate.

That didn't break you, however. What did shatter you was when you stood up and walked away from the couch and towards the door, and he didn't say anything still.

He didn't beg for you to stay, he didn't apologise, he didn't argue or laugh or whatever else.

His eyes still lingered on the window, and only when you slammed the apartment door did he look away, knowing that if he saw you walking in the rain, Regulus would run after you.

He didn't want to run, not when he didn't know what to say.

So you walked down the cobblestone street, grateful that the rain decided to break free from that clouds that day, so that they could mask your tears, and your heartbreak.

#regulus black #regulus black angst #regulus black x reader #regulus black fluff #marauders era #marauders #why did i do this to myself 😭#Spotify

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deepdreamnights · 1 year ago

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A friendly wizard and style reference.

Midjourney has just released both the version 6 of its niji anime engine and the first version of its "style reference" tool.

Functionally this is a variation of the image prompting system (explained here), in which breaks a submitted image down into the 'token language' the AI uses internally and uses that as a supplement to a text prompt. "Style Reference" (or 'sref') lets you do this with up to three images, only with only the tokens associated with 'style' being drawn upon.

This is not to be confused with style transfer, a much older and very different AI art process.

But what is a style in this context? And how does it affect generation?

Prompt: a blue axolotl-anthro wizard in a red-and-yellow swirl-pattern robe, holding a sheleighleigh made of purple wood and a potion full of glowing green energy drink. A blue-and-green ladybug familiar stands near his feet, white background, fullbody image

Settings: --niji 6, --style raw --s 50 --seed 1762468963

Here, I've tested the same seed and prompt with a number of reference images.

My semiorganized ramblings under the fold

The first thing I note is that style reference affects the gen so much that same-seed/different style ref comparisons are kind of pointless. Way too much of pose, composition and content changes for it to matter, so for future style ref tests, I'm probably going to drop the seeds.

The second thing I note is that there are certain limitations. You need to change up your prompt for things like photography, and the system interprets styles using its own criteria, not ours. If image prompting misinterprets something, so will style ref, but perhaps not in the same way.

This is notable for the one prompted with a scan from the Nuremberg Chronicle (first row). It recognizes that its a woodcut and emulates that general vibe nicely, but MJ is highly tuned for aesthetics, and emulating real world jank and clumsiness is a weak area. This is literally the first printed (european at least) book with illustrations. Every example thereafter is building on that skillset, so the dataset for woodcuts is going to be largely of a higher apparent quality.

In short, with Midjourney, additional prompt work is needed to replicate the look of early jank or intentionally 'ugly' art styles, and even as recent as v6 I've had no luck with things like midcentury Hanna-Barbereesque cheap TV animation styles or shitty 1990s CGI.

Style reference can help, I've gotten some pretty good cheap 80s-90s TV animation looking stuff from v6 niji and style ref in my early tests:

Color observations: Absent specific requests in the prompt, SREF will stick pretty close to the palette and lighting conditions of the referenced image. With such instructions, you get blending, so the one referencing the okapi fakemon (second row from bottom), for instance, has a lot of colors the reference image doesn't have, but they're in similar in vibrancy and saturation.

One limitation, however, is it doesn't apply to the aspects of the gen that come from any image prompts, so it will always blend the style of the style reference with the style aspects inherited from the image prompt, and that is very strong compared to the style ref.

Using the dog as the image prompt, and the TFTM reformatting as the style prompt, and the text prompt: "a cute older yorkie dog sitting on a bedspread", we get the image on the left. Dropping the image prompt weight to .25 gets us the center option, and removing the image prompt entirely produces the one on the right.

I expect this will be patched eventually, or general image prompting may fall out of favor compared to a combination of style ref and the upcoming character reference option, which will be the same thing, but will only reference the tokens associated with the character in the reference image. Depending on how that works that will have a lot of uses.

Stay tuned for more experiments. There's some good potential for freaky, unexplored aesthetics with combinations of multiple style refs and text prompts.

#ai artwork #style reference #midjourney v6 #nijijourney v6 #generative art #axolotol #wizard #prompt testing #ai experiments

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alexisntedgy · 1 year ago

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More Mia Cooper + the ghosts headcanons because we were robbed of her growing up with them :(

. She hates The Wizard of Oz but the first time she said that, Kitty had been so offended that Alison eventually had to tell Mia to just never mention hating it (and also that she’d have to put up with seeing it on the tv on occasion, because Alison could never stop kitty or cap watching that movie)

. She inherited her mum’s skill for art, and did a few modern, #aesthetic (tm) sketch-y journal pages for each ghost. She drew things from stories she’d heard, from things she’d seen in the button house archives (her sketch of havers made cap very emotional) and from things associated with their time period. Pat didn’t have the heart to point out the many late-80s items from long after he’d died.

. Fashion comes and goes, and when scrunchies and 80s patterns come back into style, pat is quite proud of her outfits :)

. Lady B thinks a lot of her outfits are atrocious, but none of the ghosts would ever repeat those comments to Alison or Mia

. When she has her first heartbreak, Thomas follows her around in sorrow, repeating vague bits of poetry. When Mia’s sorrow turns to anger, Kitty enjoys following her around as she vents to her friends (oh, and kitty joins in. a lot. loudly.)

. Mia asks where Humphrey’s head is when she’s really stressed and needs to vent, because Humphrey loves to be there for her and really, truly does listen (not that he has a choice once the venting has begun, but regardless, he wants to listen, because it’s Mia)

. The emo phase leaves every ghost shocked and confused- except thomas, who uses her teen angst as inspiration for his poetry, and Julian, who thinks it is absolutely hilarious

. Mia texts Julian photos when she goes on trips away- an awful souvenir shirt he’d find hilarious, a nice beach view for Pat, strange novelties for Robin. and yes, she always brings back a postcard (or several)

. Cap is a little too eager to get her into some kind of sport, because he wants an excuse to run laps around the grounds with her. When she starts practicing for cross-country, Cap is ecstatic and demands (kindly) that Alison time their laps. Alison drew the line at recreating a warm-up routine Cap had designed for her.

. When she’s about 12, Mia demands to know what every major historical event she learns about at school was like, directly from the source(s) itself. She ends up getting extra marks on several papers due to her “impressive” historical knowledge and accuracy. But that isn’t why she asks for their stories- she just wants to know her family history, if you will.

. She asks for Alison to take photos of her with Lady B whenever something big happens in her life. It often takes a few goes, but they always get it in the end. Mia has two sets of every photo of major positive events in her life, and she keeps the ones with lady b in them in a safekeeping box.

. She plays virtual chess with Julian, and works on virtual crosswords with him and Robin. They sit across from each other so it’s like an actual game, and so she can comment on his moves even though she can’t see him

#ghosts #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts spoilers #Mia cooper

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roguishcat · 7 months ago

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ooooh what is ‘a welcome distraction’???

Thank you for the ask! 💖I subscribe to the idea that Astarion is very much a cat. 🙂 Neil showing the cat that he adopted and commenting on how long it took to gain the said cat's trust was really helpful in terms of understanding what Astarion is likely to do. I'm not saying that I write Astarion perfectly, but watching that live stream helped me to improve.

With that in mind, I started writing and this wrote itself. It's not done, but it's becoming something.

Now that just wouldn’t do.

“As nice as that sounds, I still have to go through all the scrolls and potions.”

“Nice? I can’t promise anything that uninspired,” he scoffed. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning.

“Something wicked, however,” he drawled, his lips almost touching Tav’s ear “that I could definitely provide.”

“Well, as delicious as that sounds, I’m not moving until I get this done. But perhaps you could help?”

“Tsk, you are no fun,” he pouted, lifting a necklace with the tip of his finger. “What’s this one supposed to do?”

“Let me just check… Misty Step.”

“Keeping it,” he would have squirreled it away earlier, but a part of him felt a sick sort of dread at taking something without waiting for permission first. It was almost like a reflex. Not to take without permission, lest he be punished.

“If you want,” Tav shrugged with a smile. “Put it into your pile, it’s that one.”

Astarion inwardly preened when he noted it was one of the bigger piles. He spied a nice bow and two rings perched on top of a set of armour. He supposed getting nice new things was worth an hour of boredom.

That was yet another novel concept, having friends.

“Darling, I can’t help but notice that you didn’t choose anything for yourself.”

“I don’t need anything right now.”

That was a lie. Her armour breathed its last when they went up against the goblins to protect the Grove. She could definitely use a new pair of boots too.

“As sweet as you are for thinking of others before yourself, I would rather you not become a pincushion next time we are ambushed. Here,” he picked a set of armour at random, “take this.”

“And Shadowheart will have to do without, I suppose?”

“She’s a cleric. She can heal herself.”

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion tav fanfiction #wip tag game

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floertoer · 6 months ago

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I'm so late but this is for luvia week. Technically a part two to this but could be read as a stand alone.

Juvia Lockser was the most confusing person Lucy had ever met. From the moment they met Juvia had been antagonistic towards her. At first it was because Juvia was working for Phantom Lord. After Phantom Lord was disbanded Lucy was open to forgiving and forgetting, but Juvia had gotten it in her head Lucy had feelings for Gray. Even though Lucy had tried to clear up the misconception Juvia held onto the belief. Lucy doesn't know when Juvia's feelings toward her changed but now...

Lucy opens the door to her apartment -- ready to relax after a long day at the guild -- to see Juvia waiting in front of the door with a really ugly cake. Normally, her first instinct upon finding someone in her apartment is to hit them in the face with a swift 'Lucy kick', but she'd feel horrible if she hit Juvia. A million questions run through her head like, "Why are you here?", "How did you get into my apartment?", and "If you're going to stand by the door, why break in?" But she doesn't instead she asks, "Juvia, what is this?"

Juvia smiles and holds up the cake. The cake looks awful, it's lopsided, there was clearly an attempt to decorate it but instead of elegant patterns it looks like clumps of frosting unevenly placed throughout the cake, and it seems it wasn't refrigerated so the frosting is melting off the sides. "Juvia made it. It's a housewarming gift," she says.

Lucy steps into her apartment, hanging her purse and whip on the coat rack standing by her front door. "But Juvia I moved into this apartment a couple months ago. You don't have to give me anything. We didn't even know each other back then."

Juvia looks away. "I know that. It's just..." Juvia trails off.

Lucy places a hand on Juvia's shoulder. "Hey, it's fine. I'm glad you made this, thanks for the gift. We can eat it together."

Juvia smiles again and follows her as she walks to the kitchen. Lucy opens her cabinet and grabs two plates as Juvia sets the cake down onto the table. Lucy grabs some utensils while Juvia watches.

"Your house is very nice, Lucy."

"Hmm. Oh, thank you," Lucy responds while grabbing some utensils.

"Juvia has never been to a friend's house before."

Lucy looks at Juvia. "I never did stuff like that either before joining Fairy Tail, but now it's like I can't get away from my friends." She slices into the cake. "You'll probably get sick of everyone in a couple of days," she jokes.

Juvia shakes her head. "No, Juvia would never get tired of Fairy Tail. Everyone is so friendly, Juvia is really happy in the guild," she insists.

Lucy sits down next to Juvia, and pulls her plate closer to her. "I hope you say that when people start breaking into your house."

"Somehow, I think that's a problem only you have."

Lucy pokes at her cake. "So, what flavor is this?"

"It's chocolate. Can't you tell?"

No, not really. Lucy giggles nervously, "Yeah..." Lucy takes a deep breath You shouldn't judge things based on appearances, she tries to tell herself. Lucy lefts up her fork and shakily brings it up to her mouth. "Here I go," she mutters.

Lucy takes the bite and let's it sit in her mouth for a moment. This is... Completely awful. It's simultaneously dry and under baked. It's mixed awfully, Lucy's bite tastes purely like flour. Lucy looks up to meet Juvia's gaze. Juvia hasn't taken a bite of her own slice yet, she's smiling warmly at her. Damn it! Lucy is a Fairy Tail wizard and she won't lose to a horrible cake. Lucy begins to chew, a shaky smile forming on her face. Lucy feels something crunch between her teeth. Is that an eggshell? Lucy quickly swallows everything and gives Juvia a shaky smile. "So good," she lies.

"Juvia is glad you think so," she happily chirps back. She fights like a demon but can't do something as simple as bake a cake. Yeah, Juvia Lockser was definitely the most confusing person she's ever met, but somehow she fits right in. The missing puzzle piece in Lucy's new life. Fairy Tail has brought Lucy so many good things, including Juvia. Juvia brings her fork up close to Lucy's mouth. "Say ah!"

"Uh, Juvia y'know I can feed myself, right?"

Juvia huffs, and she starts to pout. "Of course Juvia knows that. Juvia just wants to feed you."

It takes all of Lucy's willpower for her to not clutch at her heart. Juvia is so cute. Lucy lets out a sigh, "Fine. Ah!"

Juvia smiles again and it makes Lucy's heart flutter a bit. Juvia really is cute. So cute that Lucy lets her feed her a whole slice of that disgusting cake.

"Would you like another slice?" Juvia cheerily asks.

"I'm good," Lucy rushes to say, "I'm just so full. I couldn't eat another bite."

"Okay then. Juvia will put the rest of the cake in the fridge." Juvia stands up and begins clearing off the table. Lucy lets her head fall and rest on the table, her stomach is killing her. She's going to toss that cake the moment Juvia leaves. Lucy sighs, it was worth it to see the smile on Juvia's face though.

"Next time," Lucy suggests, "Let's make it together." Hopefully she can make it edible.

"Really? Juvia's so excited!"

Juvia Lockser was definitely confusing but Lucy wouldn't have her any other way.

#luvia I love you ❤️#they both think they're so slick but they're obvious to anyone paying attention #homoerotic friendship for the win #fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #juvia lockser #luvia #juvia x lucy #lucy x juvia #luvia week 2024 #floertoer

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shadowgast-recs-weekly · 2 years ago

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Hidden Gems: A Shadowgast Rec List

This week, we have one of our recurring themes: fics with fewer than 150 kudos! Check under the cut for fourteen amazing fics that you might have missed the first time around:

Ocean Blues by Vailee (3836,General)

Warnings: None

On a remote island, Caleb meets a merman named Essek.

Reccer says: The description of merman Essek with his fins and tail is very adorable.

Breaking Inertia by futureshieldmaiden (31096,Teen)

Warnings: None

A time loop fic where Bren has to work with the Shadowhand Essek Thelyss to straighten out time.

Reccer says: There's a lovely slow burn between the two, and I like the plot develops - with a couple of twists along the way.

flurries by quinn_of_aebradore (1381,General)

Warnings: none

Caleb and Essek visit a night market

Reccer says: It's extremely sweet and soft, with a warm and cozy wintertime feel to it.

the start: wings to chase the sky by mllekurtz (TheKnittingJedi) (2662,Teen)

Warnings: None, but note that the other part of the duology has its own tags! (calamity fic)

Part of a duology of an Age of Arcanum AU where Caleb and Essek are prestigious wizards of Avalir. A getting-together ficlet.

Reccer says: Mlle is so good at writing the shadowgast getting together, and it's fun to see the wizards in this lavish arcane world.

in the blood by VexedVixen (11075,Mature)

Warnings: None

Vampire!Essek rescues an injured Caleb and brings him to his towers in Rosohna. Caleb is them offered a job by Essek - a job that includes donating some blood.

Reccer says: The worldbuilding is so cool! Always nice to see a good vampire AU.

A Thousand Words, Unspoken by soot_and_salt (3150,General)

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings (technically, but it's not a dark story)

Caleb runs a YouTube channel where he films himself restoring paintings. The latest one to come in is a portrait of a beautiful drow man.

Reccer says: If you're familiar with the story of Pygmalion and Galatea, it's a little like that.

you're the only light i've ever known by glossolali (1463,Teen)

Warnings: None

After their bath, Essek combs and plays with Caleb's hair. Caleb enjoys himself.

Reccer says: It's very sweet and tender. And like the author says in the end note, it shows how Caleb has changed and healed over the course of campaign 2.

Break Me, Mend Me by Kaiannae (21835,Mature)

Warnings: Depiction of depression and self-sabotage, CNC if you squint, borderline force feeding if you squint.

Caleb's self-loathing is rearing its ugly head and he is spiraling out of control, pushing his friends and chosen family away, isolating himself from those who care about him and attempting to sabotage everything good in his life. Eventually, Essek decides to do something about it. He knows that nothing mundane like talking would be of any help, so he offers Caleb what the human thinks he wants: punishment, atonement, debasement, a way to quiet the vicious voices in his head.

Reccer says: BDSM as therapy, sort of, getting into Caleb's head for the character study, aftercare for the masses, doms and subs alike.

Silver Couches To Recline Upon And Ornaments Of Gold by soot_and_salt (3242,Teen)

Warnings: None

Essek, unable to leave the tower he resides in, finds a cat on his balcony. He soon discovers there is more to this cat than he could have ever imagined.

Reccer says: It is a fairy tale au and I am a big fan of fairy tales.

Let the River Carry You by Operafloozy (2983,General)

Warnings: none

Essek knits something for each of the Nein

Reccer says: It's very sweet and thoughtful, and I love the description of the patterns

in vaults and cherished amber by allinna (4406,Teen)

Warnings: none

At the Vurmas Outpost, Essek receives some well-deserved love from Caleb and the M9.

Reccer says: it's a sweet, comfy fic that makes you smile! what more would you want.

born from beauty by hanap (2375,Explicit)

Warnings: None

Caleb and Essek have a conversation about their respective experiences with gender and what it means to feel at home in one's body, after which Essek shows his love for Caleb's body by giving him a blowjob.

Reccer says: I resonate with both Caleb and Essek's experiences of gender in this fic, so it was a lovely experience getting to read how much the two of them love each other's bodies that are so similar to mine.

if only I could see your face by lakrisrot (3399,Explicit)

Warnings: Can read having a sex-negative to sex-neutral POV character

Caleb spends some time with Essek after the Transmogrification fails. They end up more intimate that expected.

Reccer says: This fic offers a very intriguing look into Essek's mind as an asexual/demi person. I very much enjoyed that.

And two recs for

the hole in the stone by MinnesotaBruja (13243,Teen)

Warnings: Animal/Pet Death

Shortly after the end of campaign 2, Essek takes a position as a lighthouse keeper on a remote island north of Eiselcross. The fic is comprised of his letters to Caleb.

Reccer 1 says: Essek cares for chickens while living on the island and I find it extremely sweet. Reccer 2 says: Beautiful, heartbreaking, so very well written you will most definitely cry and it's worth every tear!

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. And hey! Don’t forget to leave comments and kudos for the lovely authors!

Check out the previous Hidden Gem Recs Lists here [1] [2]

Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week's theme is Time Travel/Time Loops!

#critical role fan fiction #shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #aeor is for lovers #hidden gems rec list #fan fiction rec lists #cr fan fic

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