#but gale........ seems to maybe still be in the mix?

[thedragonagelesbian]

got slutshamed by lae'zel, broke up with astarion, admitted to karlach how much i like her, it's back on babyyyyyy

i got so nervous that cyrus thinking with his goddamn pussy and his very regrettable attraction to astarion had locked me out of other romances bc neither gale nor karlach's personal quest romance options were triggering, but i'm experimenting around with my options during the druid/tiefling camp party, aaaaand i just had to end things with astarion before admitting i like her, lets gooooo

[moonselune]

Drow noble who's grappiling with the knowledge that she's falling for a very much not-drow person. Good lord it's a man, too. The whole surface men thing is really fucking with her. Thank you!

yes omfg i love writing drow reader aha

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

As a noble drow, sworn to the spider queen, your world had always been one of rigid power structures, ambition, and ruthless cunning. Emotions—particularly love—were seen as weaknesses, and the idea of falling for anyone, let alone a surface dweller, was unthinkable.

Worse still, Gale of Waterdeep, the very man you found your thoughts continually drifting towards, was the antithesis of everything you had been raised to value.

He was human. A surface dweller. And a man.

You grappled with this knowledge constantly, the war between your upbringing and the unsettling warmth that had begun to take root in your heart. Drow society would scoff at such weakness. Lolth herself would probably strike you down for even entertaining such an idea. Gale was kind, intelligent, and often annoyingly optimistic—traits that would be ridiculed among your people. And yet… despite everything, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

It was madness. He was nothing like the cruel, power-hungry individuals you had grown up around. Surface men were meant to be tools, meant to be used and discarded, certainly not respected. And yet, here you were, losing yourself to the idea of him.

Your thoughts churned as you sat quietly on a rock overlooking your camp. The surface was unsettling in its own way—the endless sky, the open space. It made you feel exposed, vulnerable, and yet, it was also freeing in ways you had never anticipated. Still, this love—or whatever it was—felt too dangerous, too uncontrollable.

You let out a long breath, trying to reason with yourself, when movement in the distance caught your eye. Gale was walking across the camp with his usual absentminded grace, his nose buried in a scroll as he meandered through the grass. You couldn’t help the way your gaze lingered on him—his messy brown hair catching the sunlight, his deep focus on whatever arcane theory had captured his mind this time. There was something calming about his presence, even if he was completely oblivious to the world around him.

Just as the thought crossed your mind, Gale tripped. His foot caught on a protruding tree root, and in the blink of an eye, he was sprawling forward, landing face-first in a particularly muddy patch of earth with a muffled thud.

You sighed audibly, feeling a mix of frustration and exasperation bubbling up inside you. Of course, this was the man who had somehow found his way into your heart—this clumsy, absentminded wizard who seemed more likely to trip over his own robes than navigate the world with any semblance of grace.

You could almost hear the cruel laughter of the other drow nobles if they ever saw this, and yet… despite it all, despite his ridiculousness, you felt something warm unfurling inside you.

Without even realizing it, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you watched him push himself up from the mud, wiping dirt from his face with a bewildered look. He glanced around sheepishly, trying to see if anyone had noticed his less-than-dignified fall. His eyes found yours across the distance, and he gave a half-embarrassed, half-amused shrug as if to say, "Well, that happened."

You shook your head slightly, muttering under your breath, “Idiot.”

But even as the word left your lips, there was no bite to it, no disdain. No, that was your idiot over there, bumbling through life with his mismatched socks and his endless passion for the mysteries of the Weave. As much as you wanted to deny it, to cling to the harsh, unforgiving rules of your upbringing, you knew the truth now. You were falling for him—maybe you had already fallen.

It was absurd. He was absurd. And yet, despite everything, you couldn't help but love him.

You rose to your feet, dusting off your armor as you made your way toward him. His eyes lit up with that familiar sparkle of affection and curiosity as you approached, but you could still see the streak of mud across his face, and it only deepened the exasperation you felt for him.

“You couldn’t watch where you were going?” you asked, your tone dry but laced with affection.

Gale chuckled softly, sheepishly brushing more dirt from his robes. “Ah, well, you know me. Too many thoughts in my head, not enough attention to the ground beneath my feet.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but couldn’t stop the small smile that played on your lips. “You’re hopeless.”

He gave a charming grin, wiping the last of the mud from his face. “Perhaps. But I’m your hopeless mess.”

There it was again—that warmth, spreading through your chest and settling deep inside you. The part of you that had been molded by Lolth’s cruel teachings wanted to scoff, to walk away, but the larger part of you—the part that had grown stronger since you left the Underdark—wanted to stay. Wanted to be with him.

You sighed again, shaking your head. “Yes, you are.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The undercurrents of tension in the camp were subtle but undeniable, a silent hum that hung between you and Minthara. The evening had crept in, the flickering of the campfire casting long shadows on the ground as you sat across from her, the crackling flames making her eyes gleam with a mischievous edge. You’d been grappling with a strange sensation lately—one that didn’t sit well with you. It was as foreign as it was unnerving, this pull toward Astarion. A weakness, you told yourself. A distraction.

And yet, there it was.

Minthara’s lips curled into a knowing smirk as she watched you, her sharp eyes never missing a thing. The tension between the two of you had thickened ever since you’d let it slip, in some small, unguarded moment, that Astarion had started to mean something to you. She had, of course, latched onto it immediately.

"That pale elf of yours," she drawled lazily, leaning back on her elbows as her smirk widened. "He’d make a fine concubine, wouldn’t you say?"

You stiffened, your hands tightening around the ornate handle of the goblet you held. She said it so easily, as if Astarion’s value was something she could weigh and measure, as if he was a trinket, an adornment. You should have agreed with her. The logical, Lolth-sworn part of you should have seen it the same way—a useful tool, a possession to command.

But that thought twisted in your gut, and before you could stop yourself, a fierce protectiveness surged through you.

"Don’t," you snapped, your voice low and cutting, sharper than you intended. You felt your eyes narrow as you glared at Minthara. "He’s not a toy for you to play with, Minthara."

Minthara’s reaction was instant—an arched eyebrow and a slow, creeping smile that made your skin prickle. She was enjoying this far too much.

"Oh, have I touched a nerve?" she teased, her voice a velvet purr. "Could it be that our cold-hearted noblewoman has fallen for her vampiric elf?"

Her words twisted inside you, and you hated how easily she could see through your carefully crafted walls. This was a weakness, wasn’t it? Astarion was a tool, an asset. But the thought of reducing him to something so simple made you feel… wrong. And now, here was Minthara, teasing you with the very thing you couldn’t admit to yourself.

Before you could muster a response, you heard soft footsteps behind you. Astarion sauntered over with his usual grace, his movements smooth and calculated, his smirk as ever-present as the shadows that clung to him. He stopped beside you, a curious look flickering in his eyes as he glanced between you and Minthara. He could sense the tension—he always could.

"Well, well, what have I stumbled into this time?" Astarion drawled, his voice lilting with amusement as he folded his arms across his chest. "I do hope I’m not interrupting anything too… serious."

Minthara’s eyes gleamed with wicked amusement as she looked at you, silently daring you to act. Here was your chance—your chance to prove you hadn’t fallen for him. To show that you were still in control, that Astarion was nothing more than a useful asset, a distraction to be managed, not embraced.

But you didn’t rise to the bait.

Instead, without thinking, you reached for Astarion and pulled him close, wrapping your arms around him in a possessive, protective embrace. The gesture startled him, and for a brief moment, you could feel the tension in his body as if he wasn’t sure how to respond. But then his arms slipped around your waist, holding you with a surprising tenderness, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

Minthara’s smile grew wider, her amusement clear as day.

"Ah, I see," she said softly, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "You have fallen for him. How adorable."

You felt a heat rise in your chest, a flush of both anger and embarrassment. Your grip on Astarion tightened, and you pointed a sharp finger at Minthara, your voice firm as you growled, "Go away, Minthara."

She chuckled softly, clearly pleased with herself.

"As you wish," she purred, rising to her feet with all the grace and confidence of a predator who knew exactly when to let her prey simmer.

She sauntered off into the shadows, leaving you and Astarion standing by the fire. The air between you felt heavy, your heart pounding in your chest as you clung to him, still not entirely sure what had possessed you to act so… openly. So vulnerably.

Astarion, for his part, seemed to enjoy it. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, "You do realize how fascinating you are when you’re all… possessive like that. Quite unexpected from someone of your upbringing." He pulled back slightly, his crimson eyes locking onto yours, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Dare I say, it’s rather endearing."

You scowled, pushing him away gently, trying to regain some semblance of your usual composure.

"Don’t get used to it," you muttered, but the heat in your face betrayed you.

Astarion chuckled, his voice low and warm. "Oh, darling, I’ll cherish every moment of it."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The midday sun cast long shadows across the camp, where the sounds of practice swords clashing and the grunts of exertion filled the air. Your sharp, calculating gaze swept over the scene as you leaned against a tree, arms crossed in feigned disinterest. Wyll, the Blade of Frontiers, was at the center of it all, effortlessly guiding a group of refugees through rudimentary combat drills. His movements were precise, his words gentle yet firm as he corrected their stances and offered encouragement. It was a sight you should have found ridiculous, even pathetic. Yet you found yourself watching him—again.

The warmth of the sun felt like a strange, foreign thing on your skin, much like the warmth blooming inside you as you watched Wyll in action. He was so good—too good. Too moral. Too heroic. Everything you had been taught to despise in someone. Everything Lolth had warned you against. He was the antithesis of what a Lolth-sworn drow noble should admire.

And yet, here you were, your gaze lingering on the strong lines of his frame as he moved with that effortless grace that came from years of discipline. Wyll was just so… frustratingly kind. A champion of the downtrodden, always putting others before himself, always ready to leap into action to save those in need.

It was foolish. Self-sacrificing. Weak.

But that didn’t stop the traitorous flutter in your chest whenever he smiled, that disarming, earnest smile that made you feel things you shouldn’t—things that no drow noble should ever entertain. Lolth would never forgive you if she knew how easily you were falling for someone like him. A surface-dweller, no less. A folk-hero.

It was unthinkable.

Your grip tightened on your arms as you fought the feelings stirring within you. Weakness, you told yourself. This was nothing more than a fleeting distraction. Something to be controlled, suppressed, forgotten.

And then, as if sensing your gaze, Wyll turned his head toward you, catching your eye from across the camp. For a split second, your heart leapt into your throat, panic rising as you realized you’d been caught staring. His eyes lit up with that familiar warmth, and before you could even think to look away, Wyll smiled—one of those charming, roguish smiles that made your chest ache.

To your horror, he blew a playful kiss in your direction.

Your heart stuttered, your breath hitching in your throat as you felt a rush of warmth flood your face. It was a simple gesture, innocent even, but the effect it had on you was devastating. Your mind raced, torn between the instinct to glare at him, to scold him for being so foolish, so open—and the overwhelming urge to smile back, to let your guard down, to surrender to the inexplicable joy his presence brought you.

Lolth forgive you.

You bit down hard on your lower lip, forcing yourself to turn away, to tear your gaze from Wyll’s infuriatingly charming face. Your heart was pounding now, your mind racing with thoughts that should have been buried.

How could this happen? How could you be so enchanted by someone like him? He was everything you should despise, yet here you were, betraying everything you’d been raised to believe.

Wyll had gone back to his training, unaware of the storm he had ignited inside you. You pressed your hand to your chest, feeling the rapid beat of your heart beneath your palm. The emotions you were grappling with—this strange, all-consuming pull toward him—were getting harder and harder to ignore.

You were a drow. You were supposed to be strong, calculating, superior. Love—true love—was a weakness, a vulnerability that Lolth herself had warned you against. And yet… Wyll’s goodness, his decency, was like a light in the darkness you had grown so accustomed to. He made you feel like you could be something more, something beyond the cold, ruthless confines of drow society.

And that scared you.

As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, you realized with a sinking feeling that you were already in too deep. You could no longer deny the truth, no matter how hard you tried. You were falling for Wyll, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The question was: What would you do about it?

Would you embrace this unfamiliar, terrifying feeling? Or would you push him away, burying these emotions beneath the weight of duty and tradition, as you had been taught?

For now, you stayed rooted to the spot, watching him from a distance, unable to look away for long. You’d never admit it out loud, but in that moment, you knew.

Wyll wasn’t just a distraction.

He was your undoing.

And perhaps, just perhaps, that wasn’t such a terrible thing.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The campfire crackled softly in the evening air, casting shadows across the clearing. The night had grown quiet, the refugees settled into their makeshift shelters, and the others in your party tending to their own business. But you—your mind was in turmoil.

You sat alone at the edge of the camp, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, as if trying to ward off the whirlwind of emotions surging inside. You were a drow, a noble Lolth-sworn drow at that. You were raised in the darkness, taught to be ruthless, cunning, and strong. Yet here you were, grappling with something you had never expected, never wanted, and certainly never prepared for.

Halsin.

The very thought of his name sent a wave of frustration through you. He was everything you should despise—everything your kind was raised to reject. A creature of the earth, a druid who worshipped balance and life, someone who saw beauty in the natural world where you saw only the chaos of survival. He was gentle and kind, especially to the refugees you had originally deemed insignificant. His heart was far too soft for a world like this. And yet, it was that heart that had somehow wormed its way into your own.

You caught sight of him in the distance, helping a family reinforce their shelter. His tall, broad form moved with ease as he offered his strength to those in need, his calm voice carrying through the camp. You hated that your eyes lingered on him. You hated that the sight of him stirred something deep within you, something that made your pulse quicken and your thoughts spiral.

He caught your gaze, and your heart leapt in your chest. Halsin's warm, golden-brown eyes softened as he straightened and made his way toward you, his approach unhurried, but purposeful. You cursed yourself for not looking away, for letting him see the conflict etched into your features.

“Something troubles you,” he said gently as he reached you, his voice like the steady rhythm of the forest itself. He crouched beside you, his presence grounding and yet somehow deeply unsettling.

Of course he cares about you. That only made it worse.

You clenched your jaw, fighting to hold back the chaos swirling inside you. How could someone like him—so pure of heart, so rooted in kindness—make you feel this way? It was wrong. Everything about this was wrong.

“I hate you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion, though the words were filled with no venom. They sounded hollow, even to you.

Halsin’s brow furrowed slightly, but instead of pulling back, he reached out, his large, calloused hand resting gently on your arm. His touch was warm, comforting in a way that only fueled your frustration.

“What have I done to earn such hatred?” he asked softly, his voice devoid of judgment, only concern. He was patient, as always, willing to wait for your response, willing to listen.

And that—that was the problem.

You felt your composure crumbling. Every wall you had carefully constructed, every defense you had built was breaking apart under his gaze. The dam burst, and you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“You—” your voice cracked as you banged your head softly against his chest, fists clenched, anger mixing with something far more vulnerable. “You ruin everything.” You pressed your head harder against his chest, as if somehow his strength could erase the turmoil within you. “Damn you, Halsin.”

Without hesitation, Halsin wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. His touch was tender, gentle, and it broke you in ways you hadn’t expected. You stood there, your fists weakly hitting his broad chest before they fell limp at your sides, tears stinging your eyes. You couldn’t even summon the strength to push him away.

“Damn you,” you whispered again, your voice muffled against him, but it held no true malice. It was a desperate, anguished confession. You hated him for making you feel like this—for making you care.

Halsin’s arms tightened slightly around you, his breath warm against your hair as he held you. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, simply allowing you to lean into him, to release the storm that had been brewing inside you for so long. His presence was unshakable, a solid force of calm in the midst of your chaos.

“Whatever it is that troubles you,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing, “you don’t have to face it alone. I am here. Always.”

His words cut through you like a blade. How could he be so good? So kind? It made no sense, and yet you couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that surged in response. You felt vulnerable, exposed in a way that terrified you, but you couldn’t deny it any longer. This man—this druid who was so unlike anything you had ever known—had become someone you couldn’t bear to lose.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“You don’t understand,” you whispered, voice trembling. “You don’t know what this means. I shouldn’t feel this way… not for you.”

Halsin looked down at you with that steady, unwavering gaze of his, his hand gently cupping your cheek.

"Perhaps not by the standards of others,” he said softly. “But the heart… the heart does not always follow such rules.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening at his words. The world you had known—the one ruled by darkness, deception, and power—was crumbling away, and in its place was something you had never expected: love. It terrified you, and yet, with Halsin standing there, holding you so gently, you realized that perhaps… just perhaps, it wasn’t so terrible after all.

And in that moment, as his warmth surrounded you, you allowed yourself to let go, if only for a little while.

“Damn you,” you whispered once more, but this time, the words were softer, filled with something closer to acceptance than anger.

Halsin smiled, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “Damn me, then,” he murmured. “If that is what it takes.”

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you didn’t fight it. You allowed yourself to rest against him, to feel the peace that his presence brought. Because, in the end, no matter how much you tried to deny it, you knew the truth: you were falling for him.

And there was no turning back.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I loved writing this and hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[baldurs-gape]

Worry Worms

A little shared fact about the party was that the worms were in communication with each other. Even with the Emperor's protection, the group were bound in a way, their worms connected to each other. Sometimes it was awkward, other times funny and sometimes frustrating. Yet the worst were the moments where flashes of the past and the pain it held flashed through the group.

The first signs of a shared existence were the pang of hunger. It wasn't obvious to start with, everyone migrated to the supply packs for snacks and ate with more gusto. Yet the hunger was left unsated. Bickering turned to annoyed disagreements and huffy sulks. Lae'zel refused to even look at Shadowheart over the simple fact that the berries they'd had stashed away were now mixed with nuts.

"Perhaps we ought to ask Astarion to feed?" Wyll muttered to Karlach quietly. "It's driving me insane."

"Urgh, yes. I can't eat another mouthful but I'm still starving. Is this what being a vampire is like?"

"Like what?" Astarion sauntered up to them, thumb rubbing at the corner of his mouth as though wiping away the last dribbles of blood after feeding.

An awkward silence held them all in suspense until Wyll cleared his throat. "This hunger. Is this your day to day experience?"

Of all the thing they expected, an honest laugh was not on the list. Astarion wasn't even mocking them, he was genuinely tickled by the question.

"Darling, this hunger isn't mine. It has been dogging me as much as you by the sounds of it."

Which just left one real suspect. The one who had been most graceful at handling the sudden affliction. That evening Gale sheepishly admitted to his affliction. Once he'd consumed a locket, the hunger faded from all their minds.

If only things could be as simple. For a while it seemed like it was. The weather was gorgeous, sun bright and hot. It burned fiercely as they wandered along their path. Armour was slowly stripped, so were clothes where possible. Any stream they crossed, most of them dipped into it with sighs of relief.

"It's hot as the hells themselves." Wyll was neck deep in a clear pool, eyes closed and head tipped back.

Looking around at the various states of undress and sweatiness, Karlach gnawed at her bottom lip.

"Literally. The old engine's been getting a bit too much. My bad."

"This is your doing?" Astarion whirled to look at her. "I haven't felt like this in two hundred years!" Despite not sweating like the others, his hair looked a little lacklustre and flat compared to its usual near-perfection.

"As I said-"

"Don't. I've missed this. Don't change."

Karlach's mouth snapped shut as she nodded and made a mental note to maybe linger closer to Astarion on nights where he looked more cold and alone.

Their adventures carried on. They bore the shared echoes of neck pain and head aches as Wyll got used to his new horns. Gale's mage hand was perfect to for those who preferred not to be touched and Karlach was more than happy to put her rather warm hands to good use too. Given her own horn, she was all too familiar with what muscles could cramp and hurt. Wyll was especially grateful for such knowledge.

Along the way they collected Halsin who was more than happy to tag along on the quest. Nobody was tactless enough to mention how he and Astarion gravitated towards each other, circling in tighter and tigther circles. They all pretended to believe Halsin's reasons were purely altruistic and maybe with a small amount of desire to learn. Nor did anyone mention that Astarion's tent had a tendency to be set up and then abandoned as he spent nights in Halsin's. It was a small comfort and they all knew they needed as much of that as they could get.

Nights tended to be rather monotonous. Once dinner had been eaten, they all drifted off to their respective tents for rest. Sleep came easy enough, so did the nightmares. Flashes of pain and terror. Revulsion and depseration. Hopelessness that hollowed out everything which was only filled by fear tamped rage. Lae'zel was the first to wake, cursing Shar and all she made her followers endure. Determined to wake Shadowheart, she left her tent. Only, Shadowheart was already by the dwindling fire, haggard and scratching at her back.

"Is this not the doing of your goddess?"

"She's much more thorough in taking the memories." The disdain in Shadowheart's voice was a blanket to hide her own discomfort. While awake, the flashes from the worm were no less distressing but the light of the fire helped a little.

"So who-"

Gale stumbled out of his tent and retched as a particularly sordid kind of pain echoed through them all. They all shivered in unison at it.

"We need to wake him." Even as he spoke, the worm allowed more memories to play out in their minds. "He wouldn't want us to know this."

"I don't want to know this," Karlach's voice joined. Next to her, Wyll looked harrowed.

As one they traipsed to the edge of camp where Halsin's tent had been set up. He was dozing, curled around Astarion with a smile on his lips.

"Hush, he's finally trancing." Warm pride made Halsin's words drip with affection. "Said he'd not done it since before being turned."

"With good reason. Wake him up." Wyll winced as new pains from relieved memories curled through him.

Resisting, Halsin watched the group and pulled Astarion into a protective embrace. The broke 'please' from Gale was what did it in the end.

It didn't take much more than a gentle brush of lips to his forehead and Astarion blinked awake. His worm silenced but not before a flash of panic could be felt by all as he stared up at the gathered group.

"I know I'm in high demand, but could we keep it to one or two at a time so I can make sure you all have a good time?"

If only it had been a joke. Before it would have been taken as one. Now though, the truth of his fawning in face of fear was all too easy to see.

"We just-" Gale seemed at a loss for words.

"They wanted to wish you a good night," Halsin helped out, even though he still wasn't quite sure what was going on. "And to make sure you're okay."

Tight blankness smoothed out Astarion's expression. He knew the others saw the memories his trance he brought to life. "Was I-" breaking off, he steeled himself, "Did I make noise to wake you all?"

"You were very peaceful, little heart." Halsin smiled at him and tucked him back against his chest. "Rest some more. I'm sure the rest of this conversation can wait until the morning."

Dismissed, the others filed out of the tent. They didn't sleep easy, kept up by the nightmare fuel of what they'd seen. At least Astarion didn't trance again so no more memories bled through into their shared connection. Come morning, nobody said anything. But if they were a little more gentle with Astarion after that, that was their own business and nobody else's.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Dear John || Tell me you didn’t

Dear John || Masters of the Air fanfiction

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways, tucked up in luxury in Beverly Hills with carts of tedious fanmail burned in her back yard each day, his letter will get lost in the mix. It’s harmless. That thought -and the booze- may loosen his pen a little too much but it’s alright, it’s not like she’ll read it. Right? Right.

Circa: August 1943

Plot: Gale Cleven learns that not only did his best friend send dubious fanmail while blind drunk, he seems to have singled out with his indomitable luck the one starlet of the silver screen capable of matching his depravity

Warnings: 18+ for suggestive and crass content, it’s pretty much two boys acting like a couple of girls at a sleepover deciphering a dirty text from one’s crush

My thanks to my baby Bri for literally being the brains behind the plot and for Christi for assuring me this ain’t trash. We shall if y’all share those sentiments…

The referenced letter link 💌

“Tell me you didn’t.” Gale managed to keep his tone calm but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit his fingertips had gone a little chilly.

“I-“ Egan threw his arms out as if a better truth might form with a little more gesticulation but nothing came, “I did, Buck.” he admitted.

“You wrote it blind drunk.” Gale reminded him with urgency, as if the reminder of its ill calculated circumstances could snatch back his letter from out of Lana Tierney’s posh mailbox.

“I did!” He agreed, “-And I sent it blind drunk. And I never thought she’d read it.”

“I saw you eat it!” Cleven’s voice was growing angry, “I made you-“

“That may have been a botched first draft to Donny’s folks instead.” Egan winced.

Both of them lapsed again into silence, staring warily at the unopened and daintily addressed envelope in Egan’s hand like it might explode at any moment.

“You sonuvabitch.” Gale breathed, two frantic pink splotches appearing on his cherub cheeked face, judgment and disbelief making a whirlpool of his eyes. “Can’t leave you alone for a minute. What all did you even say?”

“I didn’t tell her about ACORN!” John vowed like a child swearing to their sibling regarding secrets kept from mother, “I mean, i called her that but I didn’t explai-“

“-John!”

“-and I said a lotta nice things too, I think, but, I also-“ Egan scrunched his eyes up as if to either better recall or maybe banish entirely all memory of his sentiments, “-I may have mentioned wanting to give her children.”

“JOHN!”

“It can’t have been that bad, she wrote back!” Egan defended with wounded hope, holding up his still sealed prize. “Buck, swear to God, I never thought she’d read it.”

Gale slumped down next to him on the bed as if the ordeal in voyeuristic stupidity had taken something out of him. “Maybe she didn’t.” he suggested grimly. “Maybe it’s from her attorney tellin’ you to never contact her again.”

He was enjoying ruining this moment a little too much, and now Egan was growing angry he had waited to open it until confiding in his friend. Not a little anxious, and not a little smug, Egan flipped the envelope over, ready to tear its flap. That’s when he saw the kiss print. “Ha!” he barked, flipping it back up and shoving it directly in front of Gale’s crossing eyes, “Do lawyers leave lip prints?” he questioned cockily and when Gale pulled far enough away to ascertain for himself, he gave a conceding nod.

“Huh.”

“Yeah, huh.” John goaded but his heart beat a crazy and skittish rhythm as he slipped his finger inside the fold and tore at the slip.

Lovely, scented, gold embossed stationery came into view, it made Egan question how well he had washed his hands the paper was so white and pristine.

“Well?” Gale kept to a respectful distance of half a foot away from his friend on the bed, and being a good sort of man, he was not snooping or side eyeing private correspondence.

“Uh, yeah, right.” Bucky rallied himself and unfolded the missive fully, forcing his eyes to focus on deciphering charming, school girl cursive. “Get over here, Buck.” he griped at last as it was hopeless to make headway between his own nerves and Cleven’s hovering presence.

Gale didn’t move and Bucky didn’t expect him to so he scooted over herself, smashing him on the edge and held the letter out as they both leaned in.

“Dear John, -I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to.”

“Oh shit.” Bucky swore in realization.

“She’s funny.” Gale’s tone was ever so mild.

“Nah she’s, Buck, she’s quoting me back to me I told her -nevermind, let’s see-“

They peered back at the letter together, Cleven more invested that he’d ever admit and Bucky’s heart doing the oddest little flips at the realization that someone gave enough of a damn to write this sorta thing back to him.

“Heartfelt.” Gale murmured her choice of words for Bucky’s letter aloud with something close to relief, only to be then followed by a groan- “you did not write the word ‘knockers’ in a letter to a woman!”

“You're right, you’re right,” Egan ducked his head, repentant, he wouldn’t have been the least surprised if he got a wallop from Cleven for it, “awful of me. I admitted it even then. She admits it. Let’s move on.”

“RACK!” Cleven growled moments later in growing disbelief. “Jesus, John.”

“Oh don’t act better than all of it, you know she’s got the best melons out there-“

“-you’re the one who felt compelled to write a nice young lady and tell her as much.” Buck stabbed an accusatory finger dangerously close to Egan’s nose, “And used vulgarities while at it.”

Egan gave a defensive shrug and began his reading anew. “She said she’s fizzing…over making babies.” he whispered, “With me.” John was awed and this time Cleven had no rebuttal, just ever growing wonderment on his ever reddening face. “And she says here, look! she says you’re a bad boy for breaking us up that night! HA!”

“She’s being polite Bucky,” Gale cautioned, worried at where this surge of confidence might lead, “she didn’t admit to remembering a bit of it. They send girls to school to let fellas like you down easy.”

“Aww, now she says to give ya a kiss.” Egan cooed, saccharine and wicked, “See, she’s so nice and you’re the one who’s awful, doubting her like that. She says to give ya one if you’re the sort to take it well, are ya Buck, huh? Are you? Huh?”

“No, no! Jesus, get off me!” Cleven exerted every bit of his wiry strength to lug off the sudden onslaught of Egan’s heavy embrace as they folded together back onto the bed, John’s mouth making sickening smooching noises against Cleven’s baby smooth cheek, mustache a foreign and terrifying tickle on his jaw. “Get the hell off me, what is wrong with you?”

“I’m riled, just like her, that’s what’s wrong.” Egan replied vehemently, pulling his face away but keeping a perturbed Buck beneath his greater weight. “And maybe one day you’ll know what that feels like, Goldilocks. See, says right here: *I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists* Do you hear that?” He demanded, still holding the letter aloft as Gale looked up at him with the sort of patience people reserve for lunatics liable to murder them at the least hint of movement. “I’ve made her horny.” he spelled it out and Gale’s face somehow flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet. “She wants to know what acorn means.”

“Don’t you ever tell her.” Gale warned.

“Why not?”

“It’s not even a good acronym, it’s misspelled and missing a whole word.”

“She wants it to be ‘salacious’ -says so herself.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.” Bucky flipped the letter over for Gale to see and judging by the panic in his eyes he caught more lines than that one alone.

“Jesus.” he repeated, it was starting to sound like a genuine beg for divine intervention. “Get off me.”

That itching physical impulse to roughhouse remained but Egan obligingly rolled to the side, aware Buck didn’t have what would cure his own riled self. “She says she enclosed something for the morale, said to keep it safe. But there’s not anything else. You see anything else?”

“I don’t.” Buck sounded worn down but he made an effort to look around amongst the sheets.

“Julia Jean.” Egan pondered, “Says that’s her real name.”

“Yeah, well, maybe now you can stop calling her acorn every damn time she comes on screen.”

“Don’t count on it.” Egan grinned back.

“Maybe it’s still in the envelope.” Gale suggested, tentatively picking up the air mail slip and handing it to Bucky.

Egan sat up and shook the paper between them, wondering if it was really something worth hiding from the censors like some OSS spy shit. A couple of shakes and sure enough, some slippery little card shaped thing fluttered out of a crease and wafted to the ground, settling between Buck’s boots. John’s stoic young friend bent over and retrieved it, but not without his entire spine stiffening like he’d been hit as soon as he’d caught it.

“Jesus.” it was more of a wheeze this time. Gale’s slow hand raised it and passed it over.

There wasn’t anything to say, not when confronted with such perfection. Not even a shielding arm to cheat him of the whole display, nothin’ at all but a carefully cropped photograph of the ripest pair of-

“Goddamn.” John’s tongue finally materialized a sentiment and he heard Gale’s appreciative sharp intake of breath beside him as if he’d forgotten to breathe here lately. “They’re wonderful.”

“Yeah.” Gale’s own throat sounded dry as dust, “W-we should probably stop starin’.”

“Whadda ya think she sent ‘em for?” John laughed, a rough, victorious laugh, never once dragging his admiring eyes away from them or ceasing to thumb over the shiny print. He could almost feel her warm, giving flesh under the pad of his finger, could almost imagine the pebble of a rosy nipple responding to his swipes.

“Yeah, they’re alright-“

“Alright? Alright!?” Egan repeated, incensed for his beloved’s reputation, “THESE ARE THE BEST TITS IN THE NATION!”

Gale actually looked mildly chastened, especially as his eyes strayed guiltily back to the photograph like twin marbles gravitating to the corner of a box when tipped.

“I know you haven’t seen many, Buck,” Egan goaded him further, “but take it from me -they don’t get better than this. And you better enjoy this look, it’s your last, she told me to keep them safe. So see this? These? This pair? S’why we fight, Buck.”

“Don’t be crass, John,” Gale stood up abruptly, less angry at his friend than at himself for his momentary lapse of discipline, “we fight for the people we love.”

“Course we do,” John grinned, “but I also happen to love these, told her so myself.”

“You didn’t-“

“I did.” Bucky was pretty chuffed, bouncing on the edge of the bed like he had her seated in his lap right now, “Everybody’s got to have a goal, Buck, you wanna marry Marj and I wanna aggressively come on ripe knock-“

“-A.C.O.R.N. yeah, yeah.”

“Acorn.” Bucky grinned in agreement.

“You gonna admit to her you didn’t know knockers was spelled with a k?”

“I did, too! Just couldn’t make it work.”

“Still doesn't work.” Buck informed, but his smile was returning, he’d not been this close with Bucky for this long not to learn to roll with the differences and appreciate that what made his best friend tick was a very different sort of morale than his own. “I’m happy for ya, John.” he conceded, as he turned to leave, “But when you write her back -and you gotta, she’s been too kind -promise me you’ll be a gentleman about it. Apologize, like the man I know you are. Drink got the better of you, just, explain it that way.”

“Uhuh.” John gave him a sober nod, still a little dazed this wasn’t some fever dream. “Kinda already did. In the one I sent.”

“She wasn’t deterred.” Gale mused, “Either you were shit at it or she’s-“

“Zesty.” Egan deduced, sucking his teeth with a manic gleam in his eye.

“Yeah, as an orange peel.” Gale snarked and walked away, past the rows of empty beds and outside into the rain, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Bucky fell back against his mattress, sudden peace and aloneness giving him a chance to soak it in a second time, carefully reading over it all again, savoring each quip, each earnest prayer and naughty subtext. Which naturally led him back to admiring her little picture, groaning in unrestrained appreciation for her assets. She’d hinted about him taking it to his bunk -well wasn’t he fast to obey! Something possessed him to flip it over and there in the corner of the photograph, written in tiny little script, were doodles of music notes along with the ever so familiar lyrics:

“Beat me daddy, eight to the bar.”

John threw back his head and let out a roar of appreciation for finding a mirrored soul. “Oh Julie Jean, honey baby, don’t you worry, I’ll beat out somethin’ for ya, that’s for sure.”

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank y’all for reading, hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s life blood, please scream at me, I thrive off it. 💋

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[tobecatherine]

Nightmare Comfort

Part 2

Okay ya'll, it's been a very long time since I've found a character that has made me want to write like this. Once I got to romancing Gale in the second act I was hooked. I've read so many good stories lately that I decided last night to write and see what comes out. Please keep in mind I am still only in act 2 of the game so I don't know the ending. So some details may not be accurate.

I will warn you, it's a little depressing to start but apparently it's something my brain needed to get out. I would probably label this as sad, mixed with fluff and if enough people want me to continue, there could be a spicy second part.

To set the scene, picture this: It's been a few months since you returned to Waterdeep with Gale after the end of your travels. Ever since slowing down your mind has been racked with guilt, feeling like you don't deserve comfort you start to push Gale away.

Please be kind:

First person

Gale/Reader

Word Count: 2332

Nightmares had, in some way, always had a hold on you. But once returning to Waterdeep with Gale, they seemed to have gotten worse. It started with small, repeated dreams of the battles you fought together that pushed you to do things that normally would have been out of character for you. Haunted by lives you couldn’t save, the people you had failed. They would slip into your dreams every few weeks, reminding you of where you had been. It didn’t matter how many you did save, in your mind, only the ones you failed mattered deep down.

When you would wake, for just a moment, you would think you were back there, in the heat of battle. But as your body regained its senses and you’d open your eyes, you’d see Gale’s slumbering face, listening to his soft breathing. Just having him so close would bring you back to reality. It made you glad that you didn’t move much in your sleep. The shame you felt over this, you couldn’t tell him. You knew he’d listen but you also knew he would want to fix it but in your own way, you felt like this is what you deserved. So you let the dead haunt your dreams, doing your best to hide your growing exhaustion.

As the nightmares became more frequent, it felt almost like it was becoming a ritual to wake up and just take in Gale’s sleeping face. You would spend hours just gazing and scanning every wrinkle, dimple, freckle and scar he had. The thought crossed your mind that if you did this long enough you could memorize the slope of his nose and the curve of his cupid's bow and maybe, just maybe, the picture perfect image of him in your mind could chase away the bad dreams. 

Tonight's nightmare was especially bad. You stood there, the day you thought you had lost Gale forever. The moments replaying in your mind as you watched him die, shedding tears over his body because you weren’t sure he could be brought back. While your party had found a way to revive the love of your life, the feelings of mourning were still all too real. When you awoke, you felt tears on your face and when you opened your eyes the comfort you sought wasn’t there.

Panic arose in your chest as you sat up quickly to see where he could be. Your eyes scanned the room, coming upon the open doors that lead to the balcony. There, in the pale moonlight, you could see Gale standing shirtless, leaning slightly against the door frame, his back to you as he gazed upon the stars. While you couldn’t see his face, his body language and the energy you felt from him, you could tell something was wrong.

Quietly you removed the blanket that covered you on the bed you shared. The air was warm on this night so you had gone to sleep with nothing on other than one of Gale’s tunics. Slowly you raised yourself off the bed, walking slowly up behind the tall striking man in front of you. As you reached him you wrapped your arms around his waist, your hands gently placed on his belly, leaning forward just enough to rest your forehead against his back. In automatic fashion Gale’s big hands rested over yours as a long sigh left his lungs.

You could feel the guilt in your throat coming up like bile, wanting nothing more than to tell him everything you had been feeling but you still couldn’t bear drowning him in your issues. You need to be strong, perfect, beautiful, all the things he tells you you are every day. If you couldn’t do that then you failed him too. So instead you pressed close into his back, tightening your arms around him, worried that at any minute he could just drift away into a cloud of smoke.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” He asked, ever so softly. So softly that you almost missed it but you had felt that familiar rumble from his chest as he spoke.

“You knew?” You asked. A lump in your throat forming as you try not to speak louder than a whisper. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wanted you to come to me… I… I knew something was wrong but I could tell that you wanted to handle it yourself so I didn’t push. You are beautiful beyond comparison but you are also stubborn and bullheaded. But the longer this has gone on My Love, your nightmares aren’t as silent as you think they are. It breaks my heart to see you struggling like this and I can’t just sit back and wait anymore,” He said, turning around to face you, still holding your hands. “I’m starting to think you don’t trust me.”

Gently he raises each of your hands to his lips, leaving small kisses along your knuckles before placing each one so you're holding him around his neck.. The hair on his face tickling your skin almost made you smile but you found yourself still looking at the floor, your heart at your feet. With another sigh, Gale laid one hand against your waist, keeping you close to him. The other carefully raises your head by the chin to look at him. Gale’s eyes look longingly into yours as his hand cups your cheek. 

For a moment you relax, tilting your face into his palm, feeling your body relax for just a moment. The heat from his hand felt comforting against your skin. 

“I’m sorry, none of this is your fault. You have done so much for me. I didn’t want to add another burden to your plate.” you say, lip quivering. “I must look pathetic… I am pathetic.” 

You watch as Gale’s brows furrow and the corners of his mouth point downward. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip to calm its quiver. His eyes search yours for understanding, recognition. “Where is the strong brave Druid that I fell in love with on the road?”

You can feel your gut clench, you didn’t have an answer, he was right, this wasn’t you. “I’m afraid I lost her,” You replied, your fingers twisting curls with the hair on the back of his neck. You were sure Gale was going to end this, ask you to leave because you weren’t the girl he fell in love with anymore. Tears flowed freely down your cheeks now. It felt like a dam had burst behind your eyes.

At the sight of this, Gale wrapped both arms around you, with one smooth motion he lifted you into his arms, carrying you back to bed. You were sure he would just lay you there and walk away but instead he sat on the bed, resting you carefully on his lap, cradling you in his arms.

“Every day you tell me how you love me, you reassure me about the choices we’ve made. Why won’t you let me do the same for you?” He asked softly. “You can’t keep bottling up all these feelings. I  don’t understand why you insist on suffering in silence but if that’s what you need then…. I want you to cry for as long as you need to and I will hold you for as long as you need me to.”

With his words, suddenly a flood of emotion burst forth. Pressed against his chest you let yourself sob, groan, and scream. Muffling yourself against his skin, you let out the rage and anxiety that pent up for the last few weeks. He was right, you shouldn’t have bottled this up, the heat in your chest made you feel like you were in the throat of a dragon.

It took a few minutes but you soon realized Gale was whispering in your ear. Straining your ears to hear the soft words he spoke. Between your sobs and frustration, you could hear him say, “I love you.” “my heart has never ached more for anyone than it does for you.” “I will be here for you always, you just have to let me in.”

For the first time you could admit the truth. “I’m scared,” You said, finally regaining control of your breathing.

“What are you scared of, my sweet?” Gale asked, now rocking the two of you back and forth.

“Of everything.” You said, taking deep long breaths now as you come down from the all too embarrassing tear filled journey you just took in Gales arms. Moving ever so slightly you rest your head on his shoulder, wishing your nose wasn’t now stuffy so you could breathe in his scent.

Softly you let your lips kiss the soft skin of his neck, admitting to yourself that this really had gone for too long. So, you started to let it all go.. There in Gale’s arms you tell him your whole story. You admit that before the whole venture started you had been alone for quite some time. It has made you view sharing things with others a burden because who could you trust when you were mostly alone. You spoke about those you failed and how they haunt your dreams but the biggest fear of all, was the fear of waking up and realizing Gale had only been a dream the whole time.

At the mention of himself, Gale chuckled. “You aren’t going to lose me. The road we traveled was a rough one, and even with everything I know, I would trade all the stars in the sky, all the air in my lungs, even all my books just to spend every last moment I live with you.”

Your eyebrows raise as he mentions his book collection. “You’re really serious,” you said, lifting your head to look at him with surprise. You search his face for anything other than the serious look he now wore.

“I don’t joke about my book collection sweetheart,” he said, gently placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t deserve you, I feel like all I’ve done is trick you.”

This time Gale placed his lips against yours. Slow and soft, his hand moving to rest on the back of your head, his fingers running through your hair. You’ve known Gale was one who showed his love more than he spoke about it, but he was good at both nonetheless. You could feel the pure emotion he put forth in his kiss. He took his time kissing each section of your face, wanting you to feel as loved and precious as he viewed you. When his lips found yours again it was like your heart was suddenly being filled with more love for this wizard than you ever thought possible.

Once your lungs ached for air you finally pulled away from his lips. Gathering your composer you finally explained the rest of your insecurities, you finally explained your fear of losing him and how it felt to feel your heart break into a million tiny pieces from the uncertainties of his survival that day.

“Every day I get with you feels like a dream… and when I sleep… the nightmares are my reality. Everything has just felt too good to be true. I’m sorry Gale… I know this side of me isn’t what you signed up for,” you tell him, your eyes meeting his.

Gale leaned forward, kissing your forehead for a long moment before pulling back and resting his own against yours so you could share each other's breath. “My love, when I asked you to marry me, I meant it. There is no one in this world or in the heavens that I have loved so fully and who has made me feel like just being me is good enough. I want to stay beside you, no matter what life brings. Be that nightmares, blissful dreams, fights, love making, every moment I get to spend with you makes me feel like the luckiest man alive.”

“I have never loved someone the way I love you,” you say in return. “That’s why it scares me so much. Now that all of that is behind us, it’s like my mind won’t just let me be. We’ve been through so much, we’ve shared so much. What if I ruin this?”

“I won’t let you,” he said simply. “I will just have to remind you how loved and cherished you are.” With that Gale tilted his head and caught your lips in another kiss. Gentle and sweet. You could feel love move through him, making your heart skip. “I have an idea that might help… maybe not right away but with time I think we can change the way your mind has tried to trick you.”

“I’d do just about anything to make this end and get to just live… here with you,” You say softly.

Sitting up straighter Gale smiled down at you in his arms. “Good, I love you… we’ll do this in two parts. First, every morning, I want you to tell me five things that make you happy. It doesn’t matter what they are or why they make you happy. You just need to remind yourself that there are plenty of things that bring you joy. Then second, I want you to tell me something we could do together that would make you feel better.”

Your cheeks flush from the first thought that crossed your mind when he said this. A small smile creeping onto your lips as your teeth start to lightly chew on your bottom lip. “Like making love under the stars like we used to?” You mumbled. Sex felt like it should be the farthest thing from your mind, but the stolen nights the two of you shared on the road were some of the most comforting and happy moments you remember having in your whole life. 

With a smirk and a chuckle Gale nodded. “That my love, I can provide.”

[enullarts]

cn // tmpreg, birth, balder's gayte

fic about gale and astarion welcoming their daughter into the world. Gale is a trans man!

The latest addition of the Dekarios' line arrived one stormy and rainy night in the wizard of waterdeep's very own home. Not that this was planned of course, he had come up with a birth plan which involved a hospital, with healers at the ready considering his age and the babe being that of mixed origins.

However, the weather and the babe seemed to conspire against his own plans and just as he entered the transition stage the clouds went dark and a storm came down the likes of which the city had not seen in a while.

Gale groaned painfully as he leaned forward on his knuckles, his hips lifting and lowering, moving in a circular motion in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure off his pelvis. He had read all the books on pregnancy; human and elven. Even monsterous, just in case. But the practice differed greatly from theory he was beginning to find. His brow was damp with sweat and the small hairs that couldn't be slicked back clung to his forehead as he released a breath he hadn't known he had been holding and the pressure released. Though he knew it would only be a matter of minutes, maybe even less before it would return.

"Astarion?" He called out for his spouse, slowly moving himself into a more kneeling position and adjusting his robe. He was becoming quite agitated wearing this much while being so hot already. But he wanted to be dressed in case Astarion was successful in obtaining transport to the hospital. Honestly, he would Magick them a portal but the birth was taking up more energy than expected. Plus if he couldn't talk during a contraction he wouldn't be able to cast spells.

When he heard no reply to his call he inhaled a little deeper to call out louder this time. "Astarion!"

"I'm afraid Astarion is still out, mr. Dekarios. He is trying to track down a carriage to get you to the hospital." Tara fluttered down onto the bed next to Gale and gently bumped her head against his hip, purring gently. "Is there anything I can do?"

Gale couldn't help but chuckle, reaching out to scratch Tara gently under her chin like she prefered. "Dear Tara, I'm afraid my current condition cannot be helped by anyone but me and my husband." He bit his lower lip in thought, a hand going to his dissented abdomen, reaching down to the base of it and feeling the weight of the baby there. "Although I suppose, in the end it will mostly be me resolving thiiiIiahhhh...."

The wizard blew out the rest of that breath harshly before inhaling again hurriedly. The contractions were nearly on top of each other now and the pressure once again returned with a vengeance. He leaned forward onto his arms again, his rear lifting to rock in an attempt to alleviate the pain. Beside him, Tara lay down quietly, intelligently infering her friend needed quiet to concentrate on the task at hand.

Gale's vocalisations had become deeper and more intoning with each sound, his face burned from both effort and embarrassment from the noises he couldn't help but make in the face of these overwhelming sensations crashed through him. Finally the pressure peaked and-

Gale felt it before it was visible but his body quickly caught up, slowly but surely the bottoms of his brown pants turned dark with fluid and Gale roared through the last of the contraction. Without the bag of waters the pressure increased tenfold and along came a new, desperate sensation.

"Oh, Mystra guide my hand..." Gale sobbed, begged almost, as he pawed at his pants to undo them and get them off, but failing before the urge became too great and he grunted heavily as he gave his first real push.

A minute passed and when it did Gale quickly set about undoing his pants, a worried look meeting Tara's. "Tara, please, find Astarion... I, I think I'm pushing.. the baby is coming Now."

Tara's nose scrunched up as she peered out the window behind her friend, the weather was absolutely terrible, storm winds and rains but glancing back at her friend she shook her wings out with some concern. "Well... I do suppose this is the type of emergency one should be willing to get their feathers and fur wet for. ... I shall return soon, mr. Dekarios." She came up to him and bumped him once more for good luck, slow blinking at him lovingly. "You'll be alright, my dear. Your instincts are rarely wrong."

With that she sprung into action and left the bedroom, out the door and into the cold night to seek out the vampire who had bewitched her faithful companion and induced this state upon him.

it was a relief to know Tara would bring his husband back soon, but then came the realisation that he was now, truly, all by himself... and about to give birth to a baby. A pang of fear hit his chest, but he had no time to think more on it as his belly tightened once again and with a hiss the man bore down once again, a hand reaching down to cup his lips and check his progress. He didn't feel anything near his entrance yet, which made sense considering he just started pushing, but it still upset him somewhat. He wanted to meet his baby.

Another push followed, and another, and another.

Rolling waves of pressure crashed down over Gale like the wind gusts and rain upon the windows as if with each shove Gale gave internally the weather responded in time. Eventually, blessedly, he finally felt just the tiniest sliver of the head beginning to emerge from his folds, followed by a burning sensation.

"Oh, Gods, help me..." Gale whispered desperately as he attempted to pull himself together again after the last position change. His arms had gotten tired from holding up his weight so he now sat in a squat on the bed, propped up by the pillows. Tara had been gone for a while now and still hadn't returned with his husband, he was beginning to worry something had happened to them.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the task at hand required a hundred percent of his attention and before he could really ruminate on it he was back to pushing.

"nnghhhhh.... gghhhahh.. oufhh.." He let out a deep breath before inhaling and bearing down once more, he could feel himself progress now, the baby's head stretching him further, the widest point was just coming up now. He just had to keep going.. "ngg- ah- AH!"

With a gasp the head emerged with a splash of fluid right into their father's waiting hand. Gale let his head fall back against the pillows and blinked away some tears, but other tears had already fallen as the oxytocin worked its way through his system. Relief, love, belonging, that was his baby that he was cradling in his hand. His heart swelled with excitement even if he was fearful of being alone while this was happening.

One more contraction came and went with little progress much to Gale's dismay, the shoulders where quite sharp and it was difficult to rotate the baby on his own even with two hands, he couldn't tell what he was doing. Tears of fear pricked at his eyss again.

"Come on, love ... please help, papa here... oughh..." His face scrunched up as he tried to give another shove, the shoulders moving forward slightly but always retreating again by the end. He was at his wits end. "Ooh.. oh... please.." His head rolled to one side as his eyes closed, attempting to rest. "Oh Gods, help me..."

A commotion of sounds came from the living room and Gale's eyes snapped open to the sight of an absolutely drenched and ravaged Astarion, holding an equally disheveled Tara. "Gods!" Astarion complained, throwing his hood off his head, his hair was soaked flat. "There are no carriages whatsoever. And the wind nearly blew Tara halfway across Waterdeep, I-"

The sight of his beloved whimpering, his eyes shut tight and in the middle of what appeared to be quite an intense push, baby's head out but the shoulders seemingly unwilling seemed to kill all other words of complaint Astarion had as he uncerimoneously dropped the thressym (who luckily always lands on her feet) and rushed to shrug off his outdoor cloak and gloves to place his hands over Gale's cupping their child. His voice shaking as he asked: "What can I do?"

Gale hissed, breathing through his current contraction rather than pushing as he had found the last few times unhelpful. 'H-help me turn them... shoulders..."

Astarion looked down at the little babe between his beloved's legs, noticing the little white hairs on their head and the floppy ears of a newborn elf, he couldn't help but marvel at it. But soon enough Gale's miserable groan brought him back to his senses and he cupped the baby's head gently with both his hands, reaching onto their little jaw and what was visible of their neck to have a firm hold and gently began rotating the baby's head when Gale gave a whimpering push.

Under Astarion's careful guidance (Bless Halsin for that), the shoulders finally rotated and freed themselves followed by the rest of the baby, right into Astarion's waiting hands. Marveling at the sight of her he quickly placed the new half-elfling against Gale's chest, still robed as he did not have the time nor mental capacity to disrobe during everything. The baby immediately letting out a loud wail. "Gods, Gale..."

Gale smiled at him tearily before looking down at the little elven girl. "She's perfect."

Outside the wizard tower in Waterdeep the storm had let up, giving way to a clear sky with a bright full moon.

[astrxq]

chad x reader who’s dewey’s god daughter

she’s been distant lately and after an incident at a frat party he comes to check up on her and she apologizes out of nowhere and he’s all confused and she just vents and cries about how guilty she feels

(maybe she’s the one who called dewey instead of gale and that’s why she feels guilty)

a shoulder to lean on

chad meeks x reader

notes: warnings: (underage drinking, mention of scars, slight mention of weed, drunk!reader) i think that's all?? ughh i don't really like this but the lack of chad fics is criminal

words: 2.6k

Maybe letting Tara get you a drink hadn't been such a good idea; the taste of pure vodka with a hint of lemonade burned your throat, making you involuntarily wince. You turned to Tara, who was smirking mischievously, clearly amused by your reaction.

"You alright there?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement.

You coughed lightly, trying to regain your composure. "Yeah, I just wasn't expecting it to be that strong," your voice is slightly hoarse.

Tara chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "You said you wanted something strong, didn't you?"

You managed a weak smile, nodding in acknowledgment. You figured you'd get used to the taste, just like Tara seemed to have from the looks of it. Her pirate headwrap was about to fall off her head, and she had been talking and dancing with people she barely knew all night, even introducing you to three or four "new friends" she had made.

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean 'knock-me-off-my-feet' strong," you retorted. Tara laughed, taking a sip from your cup before walking back to a new target to befriend.

As Tara disappeared into the dancing crowd, you took another sip of the potent cocktail, determined to get through it. Trying to make your way to the couch where Mindy sat with her new girlfriend, you bumped into a few people along the way, each one giving you a dirty look or a friendly nod as the brim-filled drink spilled a bit every time you brushed past someone.

While trying to pat your dress dry, you didn’t pay any mind to Chad calling your name, only noticing his presence when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned to see a tipsy-looking Chad with a cowboy hat on his head, the varsity jacket now long gone.

He reached out his hand to flick the cat ears perched on your head. "Nice ears," he slurred, grinning widely. You couldn't help but smile back at him.

“Nice hat,” he grinned, his hand moving to your waist, and the other one reaching for your cup. “I thought you were coming with Tara?”

“Yeah, she’s…” you gestured around the crowded room, “I might've lost her.”

Chad chuckled, his laughter slightly slurred from the alcohol. "Classic Tara," his hand squeezed your waist, making you look at him. "Well, you're not alone now. What are we drinking?" he asked, his eyes scanning the cup he'd just taken from you.

You shrugged. "Vodka and lemonade," you replied, gesturing to the cup. "Consider yourself warned, it's pretty intense." 

He gave you a look before chugging some of the drink, immediately cringing. You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. "Told you," you teased.

Chad’s roommate approached, a cardboard costume covering most of his tall frame, and he rambled about how the loud music mixed with whatever shots Chad and him had done before made his head hurt. 

You couldn’t help but zone out, taking small sips of your drink and trying to ignore the taste as you stared at Chad. The whole friend group had been through so much in Woodsboro, and you couldn’t help but wonder why they didn’t seem to be hurting as much as you were. 

The stab scars on your left arm and your stomach felt like a constant reminder of that hospital. Of Dewey. As you continued to pretend to listen to Chad's roommate's complaints about his throbbing head, your mind drifted to the events of the past year.

The Woodsboro incident had left you scarred, both physically and emotionally. The loss of Dewey had hit you hard, and the memories of that terrifying night still haunted your dreams. You couldn't shake the feeling that the danger wasn't entirely over, and you had become more vigilant and cautious, constantly looking over your shoulder. 

Sam was the only one that knew about the nightmares that left you shaking and sweaty with fear about the masked killer and your godfather. And she made sure to reassure you that you weren’t going insane, that she also had those dreams. Sometimes, when you get in your head, you can feel the scars start to hurt again, you remember the pain, the fear, and the loss all too vividly. 

You only focused back on the conversation when you felt Chad’s arm wrap around your shoulders, and a single tear on your cheek, which you quickly wiped before the boys could notice it. The topic had changed from Ethan’s poor alcohol tolerance to Chad forgetting to take his dorm keys. 

Chad continued to talk to Ethan, while keeping his arm around you and his thumb tracing eight-figures on your shoulder. You leaned into his side, taking solace in his presence. The relentless pounding of the music and the swirling chaos of the party seemed to fade into the background as you felt the soothing rhythm of his thumb and the drink that, just like Tara promised, didn’t taste so strong now. 

Soon enough, Ethan was dragged away by a smiley Anika, begging him to dance because Mindy refused to. “What’s up?” Chad asked, moving your hair behind your ears and cupping your face.

“Hm?” “You’re really quiet,”

You sighed softly, gazing into Chad's eyes as you tried to remind yourself that this is just how Chad was, touchy and flirty. "Just tired, I guess," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. He nodded in understanding, his hand gently stroking your cheek. 

“Do you want to leave? I can walk you.” 

You looked around at the swirling, chaotic party and then back at Chad, his expression filled with concern. The offer was tempting, and you appreciated his consideration, but you couldn't help but feel that you needed to confront your fears and the memories that still haunted you.

"I appreciate it, Chad," you said, a soft smile touching your lips, "but I think I need to stay here a bit longer. I'm not ready to let this party beat me." you joked.

He eyed you for a second, hesitating, before letting go of you and giving you a smile. “Let’s find Tara, yeah?”

Finding Tara, giggly and sharing a joint with Mindy outside, also meant that Chad saw the beer-pong game you walked by on the way. “Ohhh, I see something I like.” he said, dragging you towards the table as the girls started a joke-telling competition in gibberish. 

Tara and Mindy's laughter echoed in the background as you and Chad approached the table. Two sweaty boys on one side of the table, dabbing each other up and chugging drinks to celebrate their win.

Chad grabbed a nearby ping pong ball and turned to you with a mischievous grin. "You ever played beer pong before?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

You chuckled, feeling a bit of adrenaline rush through you. “Uh… I've seen it in movies. Does that count?" you replied. He shrugged, “Eh, I’ll teach you.” He passed by a couple to stand on the opposite side to the boys, holding two ping pong balls in his hand with a grin. 

He handed you one of the balls, leaning closer so you could hear him talk. "Okay, so you see those cups over there?" He pointed to the triangle of red Solo cups arranged at the far end of the table, each filled with beer. "We throw the ping pong balls into their cups. If we make it, they drink. If they make it, we drink."

You stared up at him, feeling fuzzy because of the drink Tara had made you earlier and because of how close he was standing, his chest almost touching your back. “Ready?” you hesitated, not really trusting your tipsy aim, but Chad gave your hip a squeeze before focusing on the cups again.

Chad took over, having sobered up enough to not miss his shots. You, on the other side, missed enough shots to empty your cups, "Alright, don't worry," Chad reassured you, a playful grin on his face. "You're getting the hang of it. Just focus on the cups and take your time."

Feeling the alcohol begin to take its toll, you hoped your drunken state didn’t lead to an embarrassing display. You aimed for the last cup, missing by mere inches. The beer pong ball bounced off the rim and rolled across the table. Chad leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Don't worry, it's all in good fun. We can make a comeback."

His warm breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and for a moment, you forgot about everything else – the scars, the nightmares, and the chaos of the party. It was just you and Chad, engaged in a playful game with the world fading away. 

And just like that, it downed back on you, all at once.

Chad must have noticed the change in your demeanor because he gently took your hand, his touch offering a reassuring anchor in the midst of the emotional storm. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. It’s just a game.” 

Your eyes met Chad's, his gaze warm and understanding, but you could see the concern etched in his expression. The chaos of the party seemed to intensify around you, the laughter and music becoming a cacophony that threatened to drown you. The weight of the past year bore down on you, the memories of that terrifying night in Woodsboro, the loss of Dewey, and the constant guilt that ate at you for calling Dewey for help.

He wrapped an arm around you, “You drank too much,” he said, putting down the cup you were holding because of your last miss. “Let’s get some air.”

Chad led you away from the beer pong table, guiding you through the crowd of partygoers. The night air felt cool against your skin as you stepped outside. The chaotic sounds of the party faded behind you, and he led you outside with a strong hold on your hand, and an arm around your waist.

You took a deep breath, trying to clear your mind and steady your racing heart. "I'm sorry,"

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soft and reassuring. He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "You don't have to apologize for anything. We all have our moments."

He didn’t say anything when you stayed quiet, looking down as he walked you to your dorm. Once you reached the building, Chad stopped and turned to face you, “Keys?” 

You fumbled around in your bag for a moment before finally locating your dorm keys. You handed them to Chad with a grateful smile. "Thanks," you said, still feeling a bit overwhelmed. 

You stepped inside your dorm, and Chad followed. The room was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the party. You sat down on your bed, and Chad took a seat beside you. He didn't say anything for a moment, allowing you to collect your thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, he rubbed your back, “Why?”

“For Dewey.”

Chad's expression softened, and he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Hey, don't blame yourself for what happened to Dewey. None of this was your fault," he said in a soothing tone, his thumb gently rubbing your shoulder. "We all lost someone we cared about last year, and we're all still trying to come to terms with it. It's okay to feel the way you do."

Wiping at the tears that covered your face, you hiccuped as Chad stared at you. "I know, but sometimes it's just hard to shake that guilt, you know?" 

“None of us blame you for what happened. Dewey was trying to protect us all, including you.”

Chad pulled you into a comforting hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. "We all have those thoughts, but it doesn't change what happened. You're not alone in this, okay? We're here for you."

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands like he’d done earlier that night. “Why haven’t you told us about this?”

“Sam knows,” your voice broke as you shrugged your shoulders, “but I didn't want to burden everyone with it. We've all been through so much, and I didn't want to add to the weight on your shoulders."

Chad's eyes held a mixture of concern and understanding. "You're not a burden, and you shouldn't have to go through this alone," he said softly. "and we've got your back. That's what friends are for." 

He kissed your forehead, lingering for a few seconds before pulling back to give you a small smile. “You know we all love you, right?” you stayed quiet, not really knowing what to say. You’d distanced yourself from the group since the murders, not enough for them to stop talking to you, but seeing their faces made you go back to that night.

"I do," you finally whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. "I love you all too."

Chad's thumb gently wiped away the tears from your cheeks, “I’ll make you something to eat, yeah? So the alcohol goes away a bit.” you nodded and he kissed where your tears had been just seconds before he wiped them.

While Chad prepared a simple meal, you took the opportunity to wash your face and change into more comfortable clothes. When you returned to the kitchen, the aroma of grilled cheese sandwiches filled the air, making your stomach rumble. He handed you a plate with a smile, and you both sat down at the small table in your dorm room. 

“Thank you," you said, your voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I don't know what I would've done without you tonight."

Chad smiled, "Of course,” 

As you both finished your sandwiches, Chad cleared the plates and put them in the sink. You watched him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "You're a great cook," you remarked, genuinely impressed.

Chad chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Well, I've had a lot of practice. Ethan is a horrible cook."

You appreciated his lightheartedness and humor. It was moments like these that made you feel like you could truly escape the darkness that had been haunting you. "I'm glad you're in my life, Chad."

His smile widened, and he approached you, gently cupping your face. "I'm glad I'm in your life too," he said, his voice filled with warmth. He squished your cheeks with his hand, pushing you to chuckle as he showered your face with kisses. “So, so glad.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and he pulled you back in for another hug. After a while, you both pulled away from the hug, but Chad kept his arm around your shoulders, his touch grounding you. 

“So, what now?" you asked, looking up at Chad, feeling a sense of peace you hadn't felt in a while.

"Well, we could watch a movie, or we could just sit here and talk. It's up to you." 

You considered your options for a moment, feeling the weight of the past year slowly lifting from your shoulders. 

"A movie sounds good," you finally replied, a genuine smile gracing your lips as Chad played with your fingers before standing up to lead you to the couch. He places another lingering kiss on your forehead as you sit together, his arms wrapped around you and, just for a moment, you think about how he makes you feel safe, how his presence eases the ache in your heart, even if just for a little while.

The two of you settled on the couch, wrapped up in blankets, with a comforting movie playing in the background. Chad's arm remained around your shoulders, offering silent support as you both immersed yourselves in the storyline. Occasionally, he'd squeeze your shoulder or run his fingers through your hair, a wordless reassurance that he was there.

[googleincognitomode]

Hunger Games headcanons:

VOICES-

Katniss = I think she has a very feminine voice, but, it’s quiet and very low. Like she is always speaking with a sort of flu. I would imagine it like a decent sounding voice- sounding very caring. She stresses certain words and certain letter ( like the A in Peeta or the R n M in Prim). An early Rory Gilmore maybe???

Peeta = a worldly accepted nice voice. I like to think he had a bit of a speech- impediment as a little kid or toddler, and his mum mad him read-out-aloud to be both a confidence speaker and has proper articulation. Very charming voice, like he can be real persuasive. All words are pronounced perfectly and nice. Like an audiobook reader.

Gale = I think his would sound so similar to Kevin Eleven. I can’t explain it. Like it’s moderately low, but it’s youthful enough to remind you he is still a teenager. It might even sound like his nose is a bit blocked? Idk. I think he also sounds like he is always sarcastic, but kids really grasp onto him, thinking he ‘sounds cool’

Annie = she sounds like Cher from clueless. Like so so nice and sweet. A loveable Valley girl

Effie = exactly like Elizabeth Banks. Maybe more of a transatlantic accent- with a bit more British flair!!

Haymitch = a very distinctive mix b/ween Woody and current Billy Ray Cyrus. Has a smokers laugh. Voice carries a lot of weight and somber. A voice that can put you into a good nights sleep

Finnick = surfer. Malibu. A Cali guy accent that idk of. I’m imagining a younger, more calmer version of that Turtle from Finding Nemo. Idk. Idk how. But that’s Finnick.

Johanna- a mix of an American- Canadian accent. She sound like she’s from Washington/Oregan (canon in d7 location)

Madge= a very pretty voice. Similar to peeta, I think she had lots of public speaking practices, due to being the daughter of the mayor. However, she is really quite so no one hears her talking too much h. But everyone stops and listens to what she says- a real leader type of voice. Like everyone can hear it perfect, it’s right everything. A fairing charm and attractiveness I think. I also think she is really good at mimicking accent. Has a bit of a habit calling ppl w nicknames, like sweetie or darling or smth. Some sarcastic and others to be nice.

Prim = it’s a real gentle voice. Like all her words are whispers and really soft. Like a perpetually lullaby or speaking to a young child voice. But it always carry’s a sombering sadness that can’t be masked, even if she isn’t sad.

Beetee = exactly in the movie. I wouldn’t change a thing. A piece of perfection!! Maybe w a British- erudite ness to his voice. Otherwise, nothing

Snow = transatlantic. Exactly like an old Hollywood movie. He doesn’t sound like anyone around him- talks like he is from another world. But I think he makes himself seem different; he will make a trend to be English-sounding and once all Capitol citizens mimic him, he swaps and then comes American. He does this all the time

[neptuneunworthy]

Devour

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Durge

Synopsis: It is so early in your adventures, you've yet to even infiltrate the goblin camp and save The Grove; there are so many things you don't know about your companions...and so many things they don't know about you. At least you don't go around and bite people awake however, like certain bloodthirsty rogues.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Injury

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Stars always shine brightest when away from the hustle and bustle of the large cities like Baldur’s Gate or Neverwinter. The sky is not scarily illuminated by a gross cacophony of embers aching for more. It is when they shine so bright, when they twinkle just perfectly, that hope is born.

You were born without Hope. 

You were created without Hope.

This is not an odd thought, though as quickly as you register it not to be odd you also register you are unaware of how you know this fact about yourself. How can you be so sure? Because, if you were honest, you cannot for the life of you recall anything.

His smile is small and gentle as the boy crouches beside you with a ladybug on his finger, a leather-bound journal loosely folded in his lap. He’s small, like you, and just a kid, also like you. Though he could not be more different than you.

“What’s your name?” Your voice is squeaky, yet cracks from dehydration clawing its way up your throat.

The boy looks at you with a grin and worried eyes. Very few have looked at you before like that. Then again, you’re only eight years old.

“I’m-“

“Tav!” 

Your hands tightened around the thin linen, wringing it out a last time as your name was shouted by a certain wizard. Of course this likely meant supper was ready, hells even all the way out here by the lake you could smell the sweet aroma of spiced and juiced meat; the burning wood mixing with the scent in a way that made you truly realize you had been starving

You tossed the tunic over a rock with the other clothing and armour to dry and dust the mixture of sand and dirt from your legs, before turning on your heel and going to join the others. Their voices had already begun to mix with each other in chatter around the fire, Gale the loudest of them as he explained in detail what part of Faerun he would be feeding everyone tonight. 

Of course, only Wyll and Karlach seemed interested. Maybe that wasn’t wholly true. Lae’zel was interested, after all she was a woman of respect and even admitted Gale’s cooking to be “suitable.” However, she still will voice her very loud complaints against Faerun and it’s cooking even so.

Gale didn’t seem to mind, though in your humble opinion you think that’s just because he’s a mixture of too kind, but also Lae’zel even finding his cooking “suitable” should be considered a victory.

You took your seat next to Shadowheart, admittedly she was the person you had found yourself the most comfortable around thus far. That was putting it lightly of course. But she was open and honest about her loss of memories, though she seemed to understand exactly why. Whereas you were not aware of anything. Save for certain…feelings when it comes to violence.

Still, there was a nice and quiet camaraderie formed over this; though you opted to not mention to her or anyone much about certain urges. Save for when you first inquired most everyone about them and they all gave you unsatisfactory answers.

You still had yet to confess it was you who killed Alfira. Though there was plenty of time to say as such, right? After all, the whole past day was spent fighting goblins at a windmill and spiders before you resume your trek toward the goblin camp once more. You were just busy and focused on other things that didn’t include confessing maiming an annoying bard only after just meeting her.

Ah.

Has it truly only been five days so far?

Everyone was such chums already.

Well, save for…

“It seems our white-haired friend has disappeared off to gods knows where again,” you mumbled. You weren’t an idiot, you had seen him stalk off the past few nights. “Where do you think he’s gone to?”

Shadowheart hummed in thought, biting down on a tender piece of pork before sipping from her goblet. “I pray somewhere won’t require me to heal him again. ”

She followed this by also side-eyeing yourself, which resulted in a quiet chuckle from you. It would be correct that both the pale elf and yourself had already made a pattern of needing frequent healing from her after battles.

“I mean it,” Shadowheart continued, though there was an ounce of teasing in her tone, “you would think for someone as sneaky as him he would be able to dodge out of harm's way. I suppose I should be glad he doesn’t beg me to heal him like you do--”

“-I do not beg-”

“-and instead he feigns ignorance to his wounds. Acting all annoyed and like a cornered cat when I manage to finally cast a spell on him. You can be thankful but him? You would think he would at least try to be cooperative since he is on a team…”

Her words now had taken a turn to actual complaining, which you listened to, and even admittedly agreed with. 

You looked down at the food, picking at it with your fingers. “I think he shows thanks in uncanny ways. He’s disarmed more traps and swiped more gold for us than any of us ever could--not without being caught or killed at least.”

As you ate, finally, she seemed to ponder these words. Even if you agreed with her rant over the man, you had to be tactful and give him the benefit of the doubt as much as you have given her. Hells, as much as you have given everyone else. There is a part of you that calls you stupid for it, a tremor in your hand wishing to claw its way around your companions throats. 

However, if you are to survive, if you are to hopefully eventually understand that supposed butler , then you need to ensure everyone gets along. 

“You may be correct Tav,” she said after taking another sip of wine (which had been stolen from The Grove), “but it would be nice to feel recognized.”

You understood, though for several reasons that felt lost to you. So you simply agreed with a nod. Recognition could mean a lot of things to both of you, but that was the unspoken truth in the statement, wasn’t it?

People eventually returned to their tents, save for yourself and Gale, whom you had offered your help to when it came to cleanup. He appreciated the offer. Despite your reservations about Gale, mostly as he insulted your knowledge as a fellow wizard…and perhaps guilt (why do you feel guilt?) from almost ripping and eating his arm unbeknownst to him, you find his companionship affable. 

It’s a type of acquaintanceship you can appreciate because you both can prattle on about the arcane to someone who actually understands it. 

“A shame Astarion did not make it to dinner tonight,” Gale bemoaned as he changed the topic away from cantrips. “I set a portion aside from him and everything.”

You eye’d at the plate of sauteed pork, likely a bit cold by now.

“I can wait for him. Make sure he gets it.”

Gale looked at you with a soft smile. “Truly that would be wonderful. I must admit I have grown a bit worried about our friend. At first I thought it was maybe my food smelled as foul as the Owlbears nest, but I have not seen the roguish man eat anything thus far.”

“I promise you he will eat your very delish and not putrid smelling meal.”

That gained a chuckle from both him and yourself, but you additionally also said, “I will finish up here. You already have done more than enough in cooking the whole camp a delicious meal, go get some rest.”

He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave a squeeze, “thank you, Tav.”

This is what Shadowheart means by wishing people (Astarion) said thank you, or that people (also Astarion) gave proper recognition where proper recognition is due.

You understand that the elf is probably just a very secretive person, which made sense considering his role in your camp after all. Honestly, you were pretty certain that he simply reads his books as he dines lavishly in the woods by himself with whatever tasty foods he swiped during the day. He is here for the reason everyone else is, and that’s to find out more about the pesky parasites burrowed in your brains.

Which perhaps is why Shadowheart is right; he needs to be more cooperative with the group. Though you can also understand the reasoning for keeping distance.

You cleaned off the plates from everyone else, leaving the one for Astarion untouched. Scratch, the dog that you had met crying over his dead owner, seemed more than happy to eat and lick any crumbs or residue left on the plates before you washed them by the lake. At least before he made his rounds to everyone’s tents; a ritual the dog performed each night to decide whose tent he shall sleep in.

When you settled back down by the now dwindling fire, you leaned back on the palm of your hands and looked up to the sky, taking it all in as you waited for the man of the hour to return. The stars did shine bright. They winked and kissed at you from afar. Whispering soft nothings in their twinkles and glimmers. A feeling swells in your chest as you look up at them. A profound loneliness overtaking your being. It didn’t feel right to be sitting here under the sky with the dim fire all alone. 

Obviously you weren’t actually alone. You had the aforementioned tadpoles to make sure of that. But it was different. You could feel yourself actually begin to relax as you looked at the gleaming night sky, but at the same time your chest swelled for something your mind believes was once real. Yet you had no name to place it to. No person to place it toward.

You slumped down onto the bedroll, one spare you brought out so you hadn’t been waiting patiently on the hard dirt ground, and laid on your back. Your hands rested over your stomach, your chest rising and falling gently, as your eyes stayed trained up above. 

It was horrible to miss something you didn’t know. 

Against your better judgement, and your word to Gale, you felt the mistress of sleep had called as your eyelids had grown heavy, and they had begun to shut. 

You had caught yourself, your eyes opening wide and body slightly jumping awake. Of course, you were thankful. Because for some odd reason your luck had kicked in, and you now lay face to face with Astarion loomed over you, his mouth slightly ajar. 

It took a lot for you to not cast thunderwave and send him flying, but his own surprise drew him back instantly, an unusual look of horror painting his face like he was a child being caught.

“Shit.” 

Even despite the fact he pulled back, your instincts send you standing up and engulfing your hand in flames as you glare at him.

His breath hitches and he steps back, shoulders and neck arching while he throws his hands up. His eyes are wide and feral. Shadowheart was right. He does act like a cat always trapped in a corner. This time though, he actually was.

“No—no it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” His voice is fill of an uncanny desperation for what you once thought to be a dashing rogue. “I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just needed…well, blood.”

You felt a pit in your stomach as you damned yourself for not recognizing this sooner. How stupid and oblivious had you been? Really? It should have been clear as day with his overly sharp canines and the scarring on his neck. You should have been able to smell it; the blood. Yet Astarion had’t smelled of anything rotten and iron. He smelled of—no that didn’t quite matter.

You gritted your teeth and spat, “I can’t believe I didn’t see it—we even found the boar * you * snacked on!” 

“It’s not what you think!” His hands fall down slightly with an almost sad and hesitant tone in his voice, “I’m not some monster . I feed on animals…boars, dear, kobolds—whatever I can get. I’m…just too slow right now—too weak.”

His gaze fell on you, almost pleading. “If I could just have a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“At best I was sure you’d say no. More likely, you’d ram a stake through my ribs. No…I needed you to trust me.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “And you can trust me.”

You frowned, quiet as you studied him. Your hands shook at your sides, your head thumping; urging you to—

“You tried to bite me. How can I trust you?”

“Because we don’t have a choice! Not if we’re going to save ourselves from these worms. I need you alive. You need me strong.”

He took a breath, sighing and stepping toward you slightly. “Please. Only a taste, I swear. I’ll be well, you’ll be fine, and everything can go back to normal.”

Normal. What a load of crap. Even if you understood what he meant by it…though he was right. Astarion had been one of the best in terms of fighting and safely manoeuvring the party through traps. He was a natural born killer, with instincts not unlike your own. You needed him, the whole party did; and now he needed you and the beautiful scarlet that pumped through your veins.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, then let your shoulders relax finally, willing The Urges deep down.

“Fine.” Your eyes meet his own, “but not a drop more than you need.”

He seemed stunned by this response, not that you blame him, you are sure if you had been in his shoes you would have fully expected—and embraced—a stake to the gushing heart.

“Really? I—of course.” A charming but warm smile fell on his lips, “not one drop more.” His eyes then fell down to the makeshift cot on the ground before falling back on you, “let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

You hesitate, just for a moment, before nodding and slowly sitting back down. You look back up at Astarion now, who lowered himself over you as you then slid your back against the cot—head comfortable on the pillow. 

Astarion is quick to bite into your neck, your body immediately tenses; knees folding up and hands gripping onto the sides of his loose poet shirt. It’s searing, it hurts, just for a moment. Then it’s just surprise at the feeling of your own blood being sucked out of you that keeps you held tightly onto him.

There is something familiar about someone so dangerous being so close, hands on either side of your head. Was pain and blood involved as well? 

Your brain fogs at the thought, and you only realize it’s from the pure dizziness you are being to feel. You are reeling now. Shaky breaths leaving your mouth as your hands press against his abdomen. He doesn’t move. So a moment later you try again. “Stop! It’s—it’s too much-“ your voice is small but pleading; something hates how pathetic you sound.

Thankfully, Astarion is quick to stop, and he pulls away, licking his blood stained lips and wiping gently at his chin with his thumb. “That—that was amazing. My mind is finally clear. I feel strong—I feel…happy!”

He peers at you, before quickly then helps you sit up, and you almost immediately lean your head into his shoulder. He tenses, but you pay no mind to this. Your breathing is shallow; mind still reeling from moments prior. 

“I—“ you chuckle weakly, “—I look forward to seeing you fight.”

Astarion is quiet as he brings the plate of now-cold food close, careful to not move you except to force it close. A clear sign that you should eat. That he is suggesting as such.

“Shouldn’t take so long. So many people need killing.” He hums as you finally pull your head back, and slowly begin to devour the plate. 

Your hands rip apart the meat, it’s cold by now, but you don’t mind it that much; though it’s tougher, the spices from Gale still make it a worthy meal. Astarion watches you, you can feel his gaze still on your neck, though truly all you can think about is the pork as your jaw clamps down on it. A part of you knows you  have chomped down onto much more sturdy meat before; flesh, maybe? 

Would that make you a hypocrite for your judgement of Astarion just moments ago?

You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, grease and grime painting your skin while you finally catch your breath. Sated. Dizzy still, even a bit cold, but sated . Your eyes fall back on him, his gaze doesn’t reach your eyes; he’s hungry still. There is something tempting about offering more blood to him. Just offering more to him.

“Now,” he says in his usual sing-song voice, now rising to his feet, “if you’ll excuse me. You’re invigorating, but I need something more…filling.” He doesn’t offer you any help as he turns on the heel of his foot to leave. Though, he does hesitate, just for a moment before slightly turning his head toward you.

“This is a gift, you know, I won’t forget it.”

You bring your hand up to your neck, wobbling slightly when you stand; from both the wet feeling on your neck and his face just before he left, you understand he is a messy eater. Similar to yourself. As he disappears into the woods, you can’t help but wonder if he will devour the next creature with such greed. You dislike how you can relate.

Perhaps Shadowheart’s comment about Astarion acting like a cornered cat makes more sense now. If you were a vampire, or perhaps a monster in a similar fashion, you think that you would view the world as your enemy; trust no one, even clerics. Who are you kidding? Especially clerics.

[galebrainrott]

What do you think the first meeting with Gale's mom is like? The man has been AWOL for an entire year, gets abducted, tadpoled, saves the world, and is back home like "oh btw I'm also engaged :)"

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ANON I LOVE ASKS

Anyway, because we have confirmation that

1. Gale was a handful as a child/teen and possibly toung adult(?)

2. Morena is an indomitable woman

3. Morena is, ultimately, always proud of Gale

My guess is that Gale would come home, engaged and maybe with a new dog, and Morena would just be like, "Goddamn it Gale, again?"

On a more solemn note, I actually have a section of the fanfic I'm writing where Gale comes home to Waterdeep. Morena, who's been worried sick ever since Gale and Tara left, is angry and things are a bit awkward.

He tells Morena about everything that happened, the orb, the brain, Tav.

Morena sits for a moment, a pause.

"I really wanted you to meet Tav beforehand, truly, but we were in dire circumstances and I just felt like I knew, that it was right."

"I'm not upset about Tav, they seem good for you and I have no doubt that they are. I'm upset about the orb, Gale."

"Oh."

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have tried... Just like Tara, we could have been there for you."

-

In terms of Tav, I think that Morena likes Tav and is hopeful for their relationship but is still a bit cautious.

I imagined Morena staying with them for a bit (before the wedding), just to make sure Gale isn't getting stuck in an abusive loop. So she stays with them for a bit, under the guise of her being worried about recent events, etc.

During the day, she hears Gale's roaring laughtwe. Both of their laughter mixed together. At night she sees Tav lovingly place a blanket over Gale, who's slumped over a desk.

She sits alone in the spare room, Tara enters.

(Because this is for my fic, it's Fem!Tav)

"They're good together, aren't they?"

"Yes, it seems so. I've never heard him genuinely laugh like that since... Gods..."

"We don't have to worry anymore Mrs.Dekarios."

"I guess you're right Tara. Also, I'd like you to call me Morena from now on."

"Oh?"

"I wouldn't want to be confused with the new Mrs.Dekarios."

[static-sulker]

Okay so. How I think the bg3 companions hug. If you even care. If you ever wanted to know I guess….

Karlach? Oh she’s a STRONG hugger. At first after her engine is more or less settled, she’d be a very big hugger but she wouldn’t be the best at it at first. Like she has the energy but doesn’t know what to do with her hands at first. She has been wanting to give affection or hug or literally do anything with people for 10 years, so she is a bit excited to try it all out. She does learn quickly though due to so many fuckin options for hugging. She has a warm embrace type of thing going on which is pretty nice in mix of Astarion or maybe Shadowheart? Also, she is a LONG hugger. Type to have your limbs swaying all about if you get hugged by her.

Wyll is a very good hugger. The type who does a little sway during the hug. Like he’s normally the one rocking the other or soothing your back or something. It's less that he takes charge, but he does try and comfort first. He’s just a nice guy for a good hug. let’s be honest he’s a really nice guy. FUCK I love Wyll. He doesn’t do it all the time, but he doesn’t detest hugs, so if you ask he’s gonna give you a hug. He’s the blade of frontiers, so he is gonna be giving buddies hugs. Part of the code and shit.

so Astarion is changing with the arc here. Act one? If you even get the chance, he may hug you but it’s nothing to long or intimate. It’s usually just a step to something else or more of…A grapple I guess????Unless needed or brought up by somebody else, he's not up for hugs in a platonic or less sexual fashion. Act two he is not gonna be the one initiating the hug still but won’t try and squeeze out as often. Kinda just tucks himself in and can almost relax. Act three and epilouge? Oh bro is just lookin for hugs at that point. Not from anybody mind you, but from the people he trusts? A good hug seems to settle him. He's a bit cold so it's nice for hot days or after a burning battle or something. Normally the one getting hugged, so he has a bit of trouble sometimes taking charge in the hug but bro sometimes tries.

Lae'zel has probably never been hugged in her fucking life. She probably doesn't care for it greatly, probably batting you away at first. She seems the type of hugger to more shield instead of soothe? Like would wrap an arm around somebody when like yelling at an aggressor like an angry sister or parent would. Intimacy that isn't a trick or just sexual doesn't seem to fit well for Lae'zel usually, but I don't really know if she'd HATE hugs. would probably get ringed into one by Karlach a few too many times tho.

Gale is probably a GREAT hugger, not one to go out and give them all around willy nilly but would do like a cradle type situation. Just wrap you in and sway a bit. Definitely a LONG hugger and seems pretty invested in affection. Will put his entire self into the hug just outta nowhere. Like "Oh, thank you for giving me that artifact this morning, it truly was a lovely gesture." and just give you a heart-throbbing hug. His entire thing is that he will do anything for people he cares for and that probably bleeds into his hugs. Also, it's noticeable that Gale wasn't given much physical connection with Mystra, more of the spiritual kind that he describes in his romance scene. He's probably a bit new to it and DEFINITELY starved for it.

Shadowheart is a bit complicated. Act one? Like B-grade hugger. Isn't asking for any and probably won't give many, but she would be okay at em. Hasn't been given any in a long while, probably sense she got taken by shar's followers. If she continues to follow Shar, shitty ass hugs. No doubt it's just quiet and nothing ad no real intimacy. Shar denier? OH THE BEST HUG. Soft and supportive. It's a wild card with Shadowheart. Either the sweetest little hug you'll get after a soft moment or like cold and way to fast.

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Comfort Part 3: Astarion

If you haven't read part 1 and 2, you don't have to to read this one. This is part of a group of indulgent fics for wholesome hurt/comfort moments that I think other people could use as much as I did. 1 and 2 feature Wyll and Gale respectively, if you're interested.

This one is set around act 2, but doesn't include spoilers, really. It's right before Astarion's second scene, abouts.

Anyway, enjoy, and if you like this fic, please give it a reblog so other people can see and read it as well💖

---

You can't seem to stay asleep.

You toss and turn, but nothing seems to be comfortable enough.

Maybe there's a rock underneath the tent floor, or a bit too much lumpy ground, or maybe your pillow isn't in the right position.

Either way, sleep evades your grasp, like a teasing lover just out of reach.

Eventually, you give up. Your mind swirls with thoughts, tomorrow's problems crowding in and shouting in your ears.

They're impossible to ignore.

There is, however, someone who can distract you.

Finding Astarion is surprisingly easy. You catch him right as he's about to enter his tent, his cheeks almost flushed with the recent satiation of his hunger.

He smirks as you approach, his body loose and languid. “If you were going to offer a nibble, darling, I'm afraid I've already had my dinner. Slim pickings, but I've made do.” That expression fades as you get closer. “You seem troubled, lover.”

He pretends not to care, for the most part. Here in the privacy afforded to you two by the night, however, the worry snakes its way through his artful mask, and in return, it eases you slightly.

You sigh and smile at him. “Any chance you'd be willing to help me forget them?”

Something flickers across his expression. He's been doing it for a while now, the further you get into the shadowlands.

He'll tell you when he's ready, you know. Pushing Astarion tends to make him snap and withdraw.

Instead, you wait, and he rewards you by opening his tent flap. “Well, since you insist,” he sighs. He gestures for you to go inside.

And for a while, you're distracted. Despite his noting his lack of hunger, he still sinks his teeth in, and the pain mixed with pleasure clouds your mind.

It is almost enough.

More and more, lately, he stays afterward. Especially considering this is his tent, but he doesn't encourage you to leave.

Instead, he studies that creepy tome of his as you catch your breath by his side.

It's quiet in the night, the only sound is his turning of the page.

Eventually, however, he huffs and puts it aside.

“Alright, enough of this. Speak to me. What is plaguing you so? Usually you're asleep by now. Not that your company is entirely unsavory, but you should…talk about it.” He pushes the words out, and you look up at him in surprise. He's bare, pale skin out on display, but he looks at you intently. He doesn't waver.

“I…” You close your eyes, if only to find some reprieve from his gaze. It's hard for you to focus under the full weight of his attention.

“I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about what's ahead. Our tadpoles. The next step. Everything feels like it's an uphill battle from here.”

He's quiet, and you open your eyes to look up at him.

Astarion is no longer looking at you, but out into the distance, deep in thought.

“Neither can I,” he admits softly. “I don't think any of us can, darling. We're all running from our own demons, some of us more literally than others. I mean, have you seen Wyll? That woman won't leave him alone!”

He smirks a little as you snort, a smile reluctantly tugging onto your face.

“There you are,” he murmurs. He leans in towards you, hesitating for just a second before cupping your face. “If I must be the voice of reason, remember this. You-” he chokes for a second, his words stuttering, before he forces himself to continue. “You are not alone. You're not.” The words seem to be as much for him as they are for you. “Everything is bad right now, and we could turn into mind flayers at any second. Or, heavens forbid, Cazador could show up at our doorstep and wipe us all out in an instant. But right now, here, you are not alone. Gale would probably have something more eloquent and long-winded to say, probably nattering on about Mystra and the Weave for an hour or two, but fortunately, darling, you've got me.

So.”

He moves his hand to your chin, tilting it up so you're forced to meet his crimson gaze.

“Remember that. Tomorrow will most likely be hard, and who knows what will happen. But tonight, you get the privilege of sleeping in my tent, and I'll watch over you. So rest for a bit, and remember that tonight, you are safe and in good company. Alright?”

You nod, and his expression softens minutely.

He leans down, and steals a kiss.

It surprises you, in its mundane nature. It's clear he doesn't expect any reciprocation, and even seems a little startled himself.

It is the first kiss he's offered without reason, and in that moment, you realize that something has shifted between you two.

There's a relaxed intimacy that wasn't there before.

He huffs and looks away. “Anyway, go to sleep. We've got another long day of walking about in the mud, and you still need rest, so you should do so.”

You smile as you settle down to sleep, curled up against his side.

As your eyes close, a cool hand gently begins to stroke your hair.

[day-drawn-blog]

Epilogue 1 : Just leave the flames and take a chance

To be with me tonight - Take my hand and hold it tight - Down by the River.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader. This is set in Act I.

Tags: angst/fluff some smut later

Part I : The outer layer. Mostly angst and jealousy.

Part II : Where you try to find meaning or draw boundaries.

Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace.

Part IV : There is more to do and I still want to live.

Part V : our futures bound, our bodies known.

Part VI: These ain't my sins. I broke my chains.

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours.

Part VIII : Your blood like wine, invites me in.

Part IX : I welcome my sentence, to give you my penance

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die

Epilogue II : Moonlight burning the Flower

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, you walked out of your tent to find Astarion pouring over his book of necromancy. Not yet in armor, his casual clothes showed a bit of his chest. You were tempted to unbutton him a bit further, but reminded yourself not to take advantage of him.

You turned, and met Shadowheart.

"Good morning" she said. "I wonder what's in store for us today" she said in her usual tone of voice. You noticed no bitterness. Reassured, you broached ... "Shadowheart, I am sorry, for not telling you... about him... " - "Oh, it's alright. It wasn't your secret to tell. If anyone it should have been him. I can't say I am not disappointed in him."

You were silent. You didn't know what to say.

"But no matter. I am willing to let bygones be bygones. Bury the hatchet, so to speak" said Shadowheart, graciously. Before you could reply - Laezel cut in. "Why would you bury a weapon? I do not understand your kind or your ways, Shadowheart,". She rolled her eyes. "It's a phrase, Laezel". They both started bantering, leaving you to quietly walk away, in relief.

Everyone started on their way.

Astarion seemed really preoccupied and walked along with Gale in the back, talking about something. The party succeeded in defeating a Drow in the underdark that had yielded a bunch of precious magical items for everyone. The Myconid colony was celebrating that night. Everyone at camp was happy. The mushrooms were ... funny.

You were feeling quite happy and light hearted that night.

The warm glow of the fire, alcohol, laughter, music. All of your favorite things mixed together. You got ready for a night of merriment and walked to the crowd, joining Karlach and Laezel. They seemed to be relishing the battle they had that day, going over all the fun details together and exchanging their favorite bits.

Your eyes searched for Astarion.

Then you saw him and wished you hadn't looked for him. On the other side of the fire, he was busy talking to ... Shadowheart! Not just talking, but smiling. Conversing, drinking. You heard him laugh. You couldn't look away, because you couldn't believe what you saw. You thought they had fallen apart.

You thought he pledged himself to you.

Why then. What was the lie? Because there most definitely was one. So he still wanted her? Or he didn't want ... you .... and then you realized. Yes he had said he was yours. He was your ally, your friend. He was loyal to you ... but never once had he said he loved you! He had said his body belonged to you, but never his heart! His loyalty was yours, but not his feelings ...

You stared at him in disbelief of your own stupidity.

You had misunderstood everything he had said, and heard what you wanted to hear, what you hoped to hear. Your heart cried out in pain. You were happy in so long, but it was all made up. By you! You lied to yourself! You wove an intricate web of lies ...for yourself. Astarion met your eyes. You didn't look away. You looked at him, in anger, in hurt. Hoping to convey the betrayal you felt...

He smiled at you, and raised his glass.

Dig the dagger in deeper, why don't you, you thought. You looked away, and considered walking away to a desolate place. And then you stopped yourself. Enough running away. You deserve to be happy too. You decided to stay. You sought out some companions. Karlach and Laezel looked fun. Lets go join them. You walked to them and asked to partake of some alcohol. They gladly obliged.

You were determined to be happy.

Soon enough, you felt good. you felt even better when Laezel kissed you. You couldn't get away in time, but it felt hilarious. You did manage to stop her from any further advances though, to her slight disappointment, but she took it well. You cheeks flushed, you found yourself laughing a lot. At things that were not even that funny. You were happy. You felt grateful. You hoped he saw you.

Then you saw Wyll.

You went up to him, and asked for a dance, in your drunken state, and he obliged. He took your hands and gave you a twirl before leading you around putting your dancing skills to the test. Had you not been drunk you could have held your own, but now, drunk himself Wyll had to hold you by the waist many times to prevent you from falling over. Karlach wanted to join in, and pulled in Gale much to his awkwardness.

May I have a dance as well?

Was that Astarion you heard? Yes. He had walked up to you both. He was, obviously talking to you, trying to break you and Wyll up, maybe. But you were having none of that. "Yes, of course" you said, before pushing him to Wyll. "Here you go" and then walked off. Being drunk had its advantages, you could act outrageous and not have to face the responsibility. You did not look back to see what they did after.

Time to find the next object of interest.

Halsin! Ah, Halsin and his big strong arms. You felt like squeezing them. And you did. Somehow Shadowheart was around. And she said something in admiration of his big strong arms as well. Was she drunk too? Oh well, no matter. You giggled with her, as you both hung over Halsin's arms and found it ridiculously entertaining. Laezel quipped something funny but you couldn't hear her well.

Your eyes met Astarion across the fire.

Dammit. You didn't intent to do that. He was sitting down, keenly watching you. Had he finished dancing with Wyll? You wondered. None of your concern you thought and returned your attention to your drunken shenanigans. You decided to pester Gale after that. So you sat down next to him, and asked him about his former lover. You barely heard what he was saying. But you pretended to pay attention. Every now and your eyes wandered to Astarion, against your will.

He was looking at you, every single time.

Across the flickering flame. As he drunk from his cup every now and then. You looked at his handsome face. Having forgotten your resolve, as you rested your head on Gale's knees. Or was it Karlach's? Was Laezel trying to get her arms around you again, or was that Wyll. Your vision was a bit blurry at this point. You felt you could drift off to sleep. You didn't care who it was that would take you back to their tent that night. The more the merrier you thought and giggled.

It was hot. You should take your shirt off, you thought.

You proceeded to do just that. "Let me help you" - you heard a voice. Yes please, you felt a hand, "Alright - enough of that" you heard another pushing the first hand away. Why? It was hot. You tried taking your shirt off again. Then you felt being picked up. Oh good, someone is carrying you to bed, just as you had hoped. The night had proceeded just as you had hoped and wished.

"I got her" you heard a voice, possibly of the one carrying you.

----------------------

[marcynomercy]

Fate written in blood

I wanted to write a fanfic of Calamity and Carnifex for a while so I took courage and did it, hope you enjoy reading.

Thank you @tragedybunny for beta-reading.

Summary: The blood has always been her way until the day that fate changed, After being kidnapped by mind flayers and the fall of the Nautiloid Calamity had a new opportunity for freedom and strangely her fate crossed with that of Astarion when the elf put that dagger around her neck. 

 Their fate until now was written by others, but now they would write with their own hands in blood. 

Warnings: Violence, blood, game events, mentions of trauma, distress/comfort, mention of abuse. (That’s it for now)

Ship: Astarion and Calamity (Tav), Shadowheart and Carniex (Tav), mentions of other characters.

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 - The beginning of a bond

Freedom was just a dream, a dream she still cherished and strangely came true in a distorted way. It became reality in the form of a capsule being opened and the shock of her body on the floor.

 A pain in her head and the knowledge that there was a tadpole in her brain... nothing comes for free does it? 

 The first thing she did was look at the capsules looking for her twin brother, maybe he was kidnapped too? Unfortunately, she did not succeed.

 After the fall of the Nautiloid, Calamity awoke for the second time, by the gods she really thought it was her end but strangely fate had other plans as always. 

 She did not hesitate to look for her brother even after the fall, she looked body by body, wreckage by wreckage...nothing. But on the contrary she met the cleric  who had helped before, her sudden infusion of kindness had good results  and so her group began to increase.

 Shadowheart was the first to join her on this journey and then soon after came that strange familiar pale elf who left a beautiful first impression... a blade against her neck. Her response was a headbutt.

 After the misunderstanding was explained he apologized.

"Excuses accepted, if I were in your place I would have done the same." That was her answer. “My name is Calamity.”  She introduced herself.

"A somewhat ominous name for such a cute person, well I’m sure your parents meant well." The elf joked. "My name is Astarion."

 So Astarion joined them.

 He saw her circling the ship freely as he tried to find a way to escape, but he noticed that strangely she seemed to be looking for someone. At first he deduced that she was looking for Shadowheart, but soon fell off the idea seeing how she was still looking for that person; given the way she looked at the bodies with fear and then with relief mixed with disappointment. Calamity did that until they had nothing left to scour just a wounded mind flayer trapped by rubble, that thing tried to control them, but it was too weak so they managed to resist. They were angry, so much anger and hatred for a nasty creature like that... so worried about becoming one of them.

 They could not think about it, they had to forget at least for a moment and continue. 

 In a few hours the group recruited two more members, Gale of Waterdeep and the warrior githyanki Lae'zel who was already known to the girls. 

 Lae'zel was adamant and insisted on looking for the creche, Calamity on the other hand agreed with Shadowheart as to be wary and distrustful of githyanki so she tried to handle the situation as best she can.

"We already understand your point Lae'zel, but at the moment we do not have the resources for this. We need a place to set up camp, supplies and most importantly investigate this whole situation. There is something wrong and if we want to survive we need this information, so yes we will look for this creche and get its location meanwhile nothing prevents us from looking for answers, do you not agree?" One talent that Calamity cultivated and honed was persuasion and it fit her like a glove at that point.

 Astarion was surprised how she was a smooth talker and a good sense of survival, he decided if he wanted to survive he should focus on her.

"In fact we don’t have a defined leader here right? In that case I think our dear Calamity would be perfect for that role." Astarion wasted no time in ensuring his target the most important role, all for the sake of his well-being.

Calamity stared at him in disbelief.

"Me what?!" she protested in shock.

"Well he’s not wrong, you seem to have skills for it given the way you handled it well during our short period on the nautiloid and now after the crash." Shadowheart commented thoughtfully. "Actually for me it doesn’t matter who would actually be the leader, but that you were nominated I won’t be against it."

"I don’t see any problems either." Gale also agreed.

"Tsk, if you’re all for her leadership, I won’t question it... for now. Better prove yourself worthy of that role."

 Still stunned as everyone simply pushed her to the leadership, Calamity just sighed and nodded.

"Okay, okay... so let’s move on." She just took the lead and they moved on.

 Astarion smiled, pleased. The first part of his plan was a success now he just needed to conquer the rest of it which didn’t seem to be difficult for him. 

 Well, that’s what he thought.

 For the rest of the day he tried to approach her, but either Calamity ignored him or she just replied disinterested... How frustrating! 

 He took it out during the fight in front of the gates on those filthy goblins, it was good to kill something for a change, but then he saw that Calamity wasn’t just a pretty face. She beheaded the goblins as if they were nothing, her attacks were swift, agile and precise. It always focused on the vital, simple and practical points. This was no amateur skill, Astarion’s sharp eyes realized it was the skill of a professional, trained assassin. Calamity until now was a box of surprises for him, since they went from plunder this crypt to pacifying an argument between a tiefling and a human, knocking out the human with a punch to finding an improbable clue just because of a mistrust. He noticed the way her eyes ran around the place analyzing everything and that she was suspicious about something, then she tried to be a little too curious and quickly managed to sneak behind the stone shelves of one of the rooms by finding a chest with a suspicious letter addressed to Kagha.

But just as she proved to be very suspicious and cautious, she showed herself to have a terribly naive side! - dumb and stupid being more sincere. 

 Astarion was incredulous when she trusted the druid Nettie and being poisoned by her, but again Calamity saved herself with her lip and got the antidote along with some answers and her best bet was the druid Halsin... then another stupid decision, accept the poison Nettie gave.

"You know I’m starting to think you’re an idiot! You should have denied the poison!" Calamity stared with a serious look.

"I did it to spare us a possible confrontation unnecessarily and she would only let us go if I accepted and if the genius did not notice she locked us there with magic! And we gain a potent poison it can be useful in future battles." She seemed to have thought of everything.

"Well that doesn’t justify your stupid decision to trust her first!"

"Yes it was a stupid decision, but what could I do? I had to risk it and at least we had some productive result in this, never heard that the ends justify the means?" Her voice had a sarcastic tone and it irritated him.

"I can’t believe she poisoned you, tried to put you down like a dying dog without as much as a whisper of consent!" Gale was quicker in expressing his outrage.

"She gave up at the end." Calamity replied.

"Yes! But that doesn’t change the fact! How dare she snuff out life with as much thought as snuffing out a bloody candle?!"

"Are you all right, Gale?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. It’s just that, had it been me…Had it been… But you handled it, and you handled it well! As for myself, I could quite do with a tumbler full of Waterdeep Whiskey."

 He really showed concern so she smiled sweetly at him in response.

"Oh, so you’re the kind of guy who prefers whiskey? That’s good to know, but I think at the end of today no one here would deny a drink." The way she spoke almost sounded like flirting, at least to Astarion’s ears.

 The elf crossed his arms bored while they talked, it was decided that it would be better to find a place to camp and close the day.

  The camp was set up. It was a tiring day, Calamity lightly massaged her strained shoulder after taking off the leather shoulder pad. Waking up on a devastated beach, recruiting one by one her new companions for that group, being chosen as a leader, plundering a crypt where you had a weird skeleton that was now in your camp, killing some goblins, being poisoned by a druid... She went over the day in her mind as she counted every event on her fingers, a tired sigh escapes from her mouth before she lies in her sleeping bag. 

"Where are you brother?" she muttered covering her face with her hands.

 Maybe he wasn’t kidnapped... so what would she do? Her mind starts spinning, she tried to focus her thoughts. Come on she needed to think of a plan! Wait... when did her mind get so clear? Was it the tadpole? Since she woke up in the Nautiloid she did not feel that weight that excessive fear caused her, the tadpole suppressed it?

Of course the same was still with her, but he did not control her anymore. Calamity smiled taking advantage of this relief, no anxiety, fear or panic... just a brief moment of tranquility. She gave herself the luxury of enjoying two minutes and then began to worry again, they will surely come after her.

"I don’t want to go back, but I can’t leave him..." She swallowed the cry.

 She was free, but her brother wasn’t.

 This brief moment of relief was taken by anguish, she could only hope that he is not suffering because of her. If she comes back maybe they’ll never have a chance to be free, she looked at the group through the small crack in the fabric of her tent’s entrance, she also had to worry about them now.

 Her hands searched for blank book pages she had found, if she wanted to do that she needed to write it down! That’s how she started this diary, noting possible missions and progress and of course a way to vent alone. Calamity wrote everything, her advances of the day, the discoveries, hypotheses, theories, ideas for future plans and finally what she felt. 

"It’s weird, I’ve never felt so good after so long... am I wrong? All this seems like a distorted dream from which I hope not to wake up, still not sure if my brother was kidnapped or not since I did not find any trace of him. I don’t know if I feel relief or regret for not finding him, on the one hand I’m happy because if he wasn’t kidnapped it means he wasn’t infected but at the same time I feel anguish because it means he was alone... I miss him."

She wrote with her anguished heart so she soon closed the diary and left it aside when she realized that someone came to her tent.

"Gale made dinner and I came to warn you." It was Shadowheart.

"Thank you, I’m starving." she replies putting on her social mask again and coming out of the attempt. " We’re lucky to have someone with culinary skills with us." She smiled and walked to the campfire beside the cleric 

That first night together as a group was... quite a bit distant, Gale after dinner stood watching the fire and shared his pessimistic thoughts full of reality shock. " There’s nothing abstract about it" was what he said, Calamity understood his point but all he could offer were words. She then spoke to Astarion who expressed just as everyone else had how serious Gale was and later commented how new it was to him.

"The night normally means bustling streets, bursting taverns. Curling up in the dirt and resting is… a little novel."

"I confess that all this is strange to me, it’s the first time I’m away from the city but we need to take a chance after all we have a lot to do tomorrow."

"You mentioned that you were from Baldur’s Gate and I couldn’t ignore your abilities." She just got serious staring at him. "No need to look at me like that, what I mean is that I noticed that you are someone capable. Well I’m no place to rest yet, today has been a lot. I need some time to think things through to process this, you rest I’ll keep watch."

"If you say so, I’ll sleep quietly knowing there’s someone watching."

"The pleasure is all mine. Sweet dreams."

 She walked away and Astarion kept  his eyes on her, a single measure of her abilities made her alert, he was no idiot and knew that if he angered her, it could be his end tonight. Although it left him more intrigued by the minute, thinking he might have met her earlier wouldn’t make sense, but he still had that impression rooted in his mind... where he saw those eyes before? Her eyes are unique, the left eye sapphire blue and the right eye red this combination is not seen every day around. 

 He saw her talking to the other half-elf and then she returned to the tent, this matter occupied him for the rest of the night along with his hunger.

Well that’s it! Thank you for reading the first chapter.

@spacebarbarianweird @spacesquidlings@thechaoticdruid

[fangbangerghoul]

OKAY I'M COMIN IN UNDER THE WIRE Sensory prompt: The coppery scent of blood in the air Emotion: Adrenaline - Is that an emotion? Amped? Object: Chair Lets go with Astarion and a character of your choice that you've been wanting to write!

For you?

I'll give you the best!

wc: 799 (cause i got carried away as usual)

Today is the last day I am accepting prompts for my 100 follower celebration! Please feel free to submit one!

            The dilapidated building was unsavory as they all sat in it for a short rest. Gale used to be able to count the number of deaths he caused on his fingers before he decided to travel with Tav. Now it seemed every day there was a new blood stain on his hands, his clothes, even his face. Tav was wrapping their leg from a battle wound and Astarion and Shadowheart seemed preoccupied with their own needs. He felt his calf burn with an intensity that was unexpected and the coppery scent washed over his as he lifted his robe to see the brutal gash in his leg. The adrenaline left in his veins was pounding in his temples and his breathing still didn’t feel quite right. His eyes were focused on the wound and he was debating if traditional methods of healing would be best or if he should succumb to a quick fix with magic. The pros and cons weren’t particularly swaying him in either direction and the weight his body felt from exhaustion he wondered how much longer he could let it freely bleed.

“What do we have here?” The cool and charming tone came from Astarion who had crept up to Gale as he sat in the only viable chair. He felt a dull pressure in his knees and opted to be selfish for once and take a seat before offering it to Tav. Astarion’s presence caused a bit of caution in Gale. He was entirely comfortable around the man but there was always something that made Gale extremely curious about the red eyed charmer.

“It is nothing.” Gale said abruptly, not wanting the half elf to see his weakness. Who knows what influence he really had on Tav. They were not to pressed when Astarion confessed to be the vampire spawn he was even though he obviously was going to fed on Tav without permission. Something Gale thought that was extremely rude and dubious.

“Ah, don’t be coy now.” Astarion had a toothy grin and he swayed a bit side to side. The vampire spawn always seemed big on body language. Gale caught the tiniest of flares from Astarion’s nostrils. He knew then Astarion smelt the blood and perhaps considered only coming over to sneak a bite. Maybe just to lick his leg? Gale wasn’t entirely sure but he now he knew for certainty to not let his guard down.

“Let me take a look.” Astarion said gently his hand body and hand starting to near Gale but Gale flinched for a moment and gave an astute glare. He had hoped the vampire would heed his warning but his smirk had only lessened a fraction. “What? I’m not going to drain you dry if that’s what you think. There are tastier things out there than you wizard.”

Gale’s felt his pride hurt for a moment and his glare softened into a more offended look. He knew it was silly of him to take offense to that and perhaps instead he should be feeling more of a relief from that statement.

“I didn’t say that you were.” Gale started as he tried to relax his body to allow Astarion to get closer. He did not want to make a scene because the others were busy resting themselves. “Who knew someone like you would have something against older gentlemen.”

“You shouldn’t put words into others mouth, Gale.” Astarion’s tone seemed full of an array of emotions from teasing, flirting, even threatening and a mix of disappointment. Gale was not sure what to say to his response but hissed when Astarion poked at his flesh wound.

“Don’t be a baby.” Astrarion’s voice was like a soft gruff and before Gale realized it the dazzling companion in front of him was stitching up his wound. The closeness between the two of them was more intimate than he would have preferred but he accepted his fate as he closed his eyes. The wizard was not trying to be too mindful of the pain and after a few seconds it had stopped. He felt Astarion’s cool fingers trace up his calf where the wound was and when Gale peeked Astarion’s eyes were looking right into his. The companion had his finger covered in Gale’s blood and it held just before his lips. Astarion dipped the finger into his own mouth and Gale could hear the light pop come from his lips and the sound of his tongue move around inside his mouth. Gale was about to say something in exasperation but the vampire just smiled and pulled out his finger. “Maybe I was wrong about their being tastier companions.” He said in a thoughtful tone. Gale looked dismayed as the vampire spawn stood and walked away as if nothing ever happened.

[blackwolfstabs]

The Wolves of Woodsboro - Chapter II

HUMAN

characters: Sam Carpenter, Billy Loomis, & Danny Brackett

Nesting birds jumped from the trees and scurrying nocturnal creatures scattered into the shadows’ depths at the sound of a predator rushing through the forest.

Sam’s eyes burned as she sprinted blind, racing with long strides and no concern for her surroundings. She would have thought she’d grown used to this feeling by now, but it seemed enhanced tonight. 

It was Tara. 

It was her father.

It was everyone she had ever come into contact with, since she met Richie. Since the nightmare was set in motion. Since her life was bound by the truth. Since time was set to fire and purpose was defined as vengeance.

Voices screamed at her, all that she could hear around the blood roaring in her ears. Words she had never wanted to hear again. Mixed words and voices that were distinguishable but threatening at the same time.

‘ “Tara was attacked.” ’ Wes.

‘ “Sam… I was so scared.” ’ Tara.

‘ “Mmm. Antipsychotics aren’t working as well as they used to, are they?” ’ Billy.

Her tongue slid against her fangs with each reflex of her lungs.

‘ “I remember you too… and all the trouble you used to cause your family.” ’ Judy.

‘ “Sam… Get the fuck out!” ’ Tara.

‘ “You wanna know why, Sam? Maybe it’s because you’re a selfish bitch who can’t even make a decision to save the life of someone you love.” ’ Amber.

Her claws dug deeper into the earth with every stride.

‘ “You’re in Stu Macher’s house, where your dad and Stu killed everyone. Someone planned to get you there. You need to get the fuck out, Sam!” ’ Sidney.

‘ “Wasn’t that hard for me to find you in Modesto. It wasn’t that hard for me to fuck you either. But I guess being a sexually available woman is supposed to be empowering these days.” ’ Richie.

A deep snarl came from her throat as she cursed herself, shaking her head of the branches that slapped her muzzle as she blindly raced past them.

The voices got louder.

‘ “Sam. Are you fucking kidding me? You’re stalking me now?” ’ Tara.

‘ “You guys should stay away from her. She knows what she did!” ’ Stranger.

‘ “Unstable.” “Born-killer.” ’ Gale.

Cuts and stabs tormented her body and ripped the fur from her skin as she tore through shrubbery and disheveled paths.

‘ “Then don’t trust anyone. Not your friends. Not me. Not anyone.” ’ Danny.

‘ “Come on, Sam, you got to be excited to get our murder on again. Together. Billy and Sam. Team Loomis.” ’ Billy.

‘ “No, you’re gonna die, Samantha! Choking on your own blood, while I hack up your sister.” ’ Quinn.

Savage barking intertwined her snarls as she pushed harder, the smell of her own blood from her scarred flanks and blistered pads just fueling her more. The cool colors of the woods and night blended into red. All shades of red, the kinds that she had seen in liquid form come from another being’s body. Friends, family, enemies, allies. Mid-20s and already desensitized to the crimson flood that was a one-way ticket to life or death. It thrilled her. There was an inner lust that drove her mad when the hunt was on. And that was the biggest struggle she fought herself on. 

Was she a human or a wolf?

‘ “This was your grandmother’s, Sam. Nancy Loomis. Really runs in your fucking family, doesn’t it?” ’ Ethan.

‘ “And you’re a killer. Just like your father.” ’ Wayne.

‘ “Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding! She’s finally starting to get it!” ’ Ethan.

The wolf was outrunning by far. Her throat ripped deep within from another infuriated snarl that echoed off the trees.

‘ “That I knew you had to fucking die! You had to be punished!” ’ Wayne.

‘ “There she is. There’s the fucking killer.” ’ Quinn.

‘ “Sam. Let me go.” ’ Tara.

‘ “Yeah, let her go, Sam, come on!” ’ Ethan.

‘ “Now you know the truth, huh? Murder’s in your blood!” ’ Wayne.

‘ “Legacy doesn’t always have to be a bad thing.” ’ Kirby.

Samantha broke out of the overcast of trees and out into the open air. Her paws hit the hard, still-warm concrete of a road, and the sudden change of pace had her freezing in the moment. The voices stopped, and she was whipped back into reality.

A bright light blasted her profile from the left, followed by the bellowing of a car horn. Her ears erected as she looked over to find a white glow blind her and the heat wave of an engine brace her bristling coat. 

The screeching of tires pierced her eardrums.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Everything she had just experienced as voices came back physically to play behind her eyes. Past, present, and future. Her life was a blur. 

She anticipated pain, more pain than she had ever experienced, but instead, something strong and sharp grabbed her scruff and her body was yanked out of the light and into the shadows once more.

Jaws. That was what had her.

On the other side of the road, there was more forest, and in that one leap it took to get out of the danger of being crushed by a car, the she-wolf was released and thrown to the earth. The cuts she sustained from her mindless sprint through the first half of the woods pulled as the strength of her ‘savior’ sent her skidding through the collection of twigs, dirt, and dead leaves. But adrenaline was still rushing, leaving her shaking her head of the commotion and lifting it towards the figure that stood a good distance from her.

Another wolf.

Golden eyes, identical to her own, was the only source of color around the gray-colored pelt the other possessed. Their lips were pulled back slightly into somewhat of a condescending smile, while the presentation of their erect ears and confident posture showed their entitled dominance.

Another wolf-shifter.

Sam’s heart skipped a beat at the shock of who it was. The scent. The rugged tone through the canine vocals. The smug expression. The way those eyes led to darker ones portrayed in human form, the ones that always gleamed with bloodlust, ambition, and temptation.

Billy Loomis.

“You should really watch where you’re going, baby girl.”

Was that supposed to be insulting? It sure sounded like it. The smile pulling at his muzzle made her push her shock of having him physically appear before her aside to pull her own lips back in a defensive growl. That little nickname, though typical of a parent to their daughter, was insulting and condescending to her and her reputation. Never said before by him, it definitely got under her skin.

However, her bristling fur didn’t faze him as he began to walk towards her. “Easy, now. I just saved your life,” he warned.

His daughter’s ears drew back with a soft growl, and she pushed herself to her paws with a grunt, “How are you even—”

“Real?” He finished her thought with a confident swish of his tail as he edged his snout towards her. “I’m not. To anyone but you and the dead , of course.”

She shook her pelt out, making sure to meet his eyes once she regained control of her train of thought. “Okay, well, what are you doing here?” As shocked as she was that he was able to physically appear to her and touch her like he was alive, she didn’t let it show. She played it cool.

Billy kept his stride sleek, beginning to circle her. “You’re impulsive, Sam,” he criticized, “You’re too emotional, and that’s what’s going to lead you to fail.” He studied her pelt, gently nipping at it to untangle dirt and debris from it. Of course, she flinched with sensitive winces, making him chuckle as she jerked her muzzle around when he rounded her hind end.

“Get to the point,” she snapped, irked by his judgmental antics.

He made it back to her front, dropping his tone to a much more serious tone. “You want to stop Ethan? You’ve gotta start making some decisions.” He faced her, golden eyes like plated pistols as his muzzle was only inches away from hers. “Talk to her. Tell her the truth.”

By ‘her’, he meant Tara and she knew it. History really did repeat itself. In the worst ways, of course. He was right. She was too distracted to deal with another killer, protect her family, and keep her secrets all at the same time. It was a recipe for self-sabotage. Self-destruction. “About what?” But she couldn’t jump to conclusions yet.

“That’s what you have to decide,” he answered, “About you. About me. About Ethan.” The ice in her gaze made him take a step back, showing her that he was not a threat. “I’m not your enemy here, Sam. I’m trying to help you.”

His actions spoke for his claim, which made her force her fur flat and lift her jaw in a subtle challenge. “Really?” If by helping, he meant barking orders in her head 24-damn-7, then that was a kind of help she had never heard of. “Because it feels like it’s just ‘ do this, do that. ’ Are you going to let me make my own decisions, or are you going to keep telling me how to make them?”

The gray wolf gave a low growl, “You wait for me to make them for you. Don’t you realize that?” She didn’t say anything, just shifted her weight after a moment of a failed attempt at coming up with a comeback. Now, he amped his harshness up. “This is your family we’re talking about. You hesitate too much, and without me, you’d already be far-up shit’s creek. You can’t wait for opportunities.” He then squared up to her, “Go out and take them.”

The late-night breeze ruffled their pelts and made the trees whisper in the tense silence of the pair of savage predators stalking the forest floor.

Samantha glanced at her paws, the torn skin from her figure stinging from the wind. She knew she couldn’t say much to defend herself at this point, because the truth was, she was still trying to get a handle on herself and this inner wolf she had been forced to coexist with. She heard Billy sigh, his growl gone and waiting for her to give him a response.

Once again… she was hesitating… wasting time and energy… just like he was on her back for.

“I…” Her voice had softened, low and quiet as she fought with what she should and shouldn’t say. “I just… I’m not sure how to handle all of this,” she eventually admitted, instantly cursing herself for expressing this kind of vulnerability in front of him. Yet, it was like her tongue had a mind of its own as she continued to spill, “The last time a killer was on the loose, Tara bit my head off. The time before that, she shut me out. How am I supposed to tell her that Ethan’s alive and looking for us, and that I’m part wild dog with barely any control over it?” She raised her eyes to her father. “And now I’m seeing you as more than a reflection and a voice in my head.”

He blinked at her. A neutral expression with a heavy sense of authority. A true alpha. “Prioritize.” It was simple really, but she made it so complicated. “Right now, all they need to know is that there’s another killer on the loose and hunting for you.” Oh, females were so emotional, having to make everything so much more than it needed to be. “The rest will come with time.”

As much as she hated to admit it, she was submissive to him. Very submissive. That frustrating truth had come on strong once she had gained the ability to transform, leading her to blame the wolf-pack hierarchy. She had sworn she didn’t want his help. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t live with it. But reality was, he had a very leveled head. Always sleek and composed: one of the heavy, notorious characteristics of a serial killer. 

She was just the daughter of one. Many of the instincts ran in her blood, but that psychopathic ability did not. In most situations, anyway. 

In order to do this right, she needed his help, and from the look in his eyes, she guessed he was waiting for her to ask him for it. “Will you help me?” She had to force it out, the words closing up her pharynx.

Her father gave a small smirk, the one he always gave when she made the right decision. He took a step back, the moonlight filtering through the trees to highlight his pelt like one would expect of a manifested deity. “Samantha, I can give you everything you’ll need to tear that motherfucker apart,” he answered, giving the same vibe as he had the last two times when a cold-blooded killer had stalked the streets in search of her and her sister. “I can train you into a mastermind of human and wolf. I can teach you how to control it. I can show you how to unlock your full potential and wield that power for the greater good.” His golden orbs darkened to an amber as he dipped his head temptingly. “But you have to trust me above all other things.” He had only looked at one other person this way before and that was Sidney, when he had tested her to tell him what he had to do to prove that he wasn’t a killer. But even as a canine, the same look, same mannerisms, and the same voice was there. 

His pup stared at him, the temptation clearly setting in, begging for her to chase it down.

“You have to let me in.”

Her heart quickened, but why, she didn’t know. Maybe it was hope, maybe fear? Maybe it was anxiousness, or maybe it was the thrill of the hunt? Either way, she swallowed, wanting to take his word but also scared to. 

This chase wouldn’t be easy, none of them ever were. Someone was going to get hurt, they always did. But as far as a lead went, he was her best shot. 

“Fine.” 

Like usual, the house was dark with the exception of a lamp giving a soft glow from the living room as Sam slipped through the front door. Her head was pounding, and exhaustion pulled at every muscle in her body. She secured both locks on the door, before moving the small bench from the piano to its nocturnal place in a diagonal against the door and the neighboring wall, her paranoia still making her secure the doors every night without fail.

It was close to 2 AM, so it wasn’t as late as she typically stayed out, but it felt just as long. Her conversation with Billy played in her head the whole way home. Over and over and over again. Her head felt like it was about to explode, the throbbing was endless. Talking to him, anticipating talking to Tara, anticipating to then talk to the rest of the household, meeting him nightly to ‘train’, wondering where Ethan was and what he was planning…

It was so much to process, and it felt like a thousand worlds on her shoulders. She just wanted to go to sleep and forget about everything, even if it was only for a few short hours. But with how fast her mind was racing right now, she knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

She gave a tired sigh, wiping her face before running her fingers through her hair as she turned around to proceed into the living room. Some of the tension that swirled in her head luckily eased once she saw Danny get up from the sofa to meet her.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted with a small smile.

But instead of stopping before him, the she-wolf closed the remaining space between them by returning his greeting with an embrace. She wrapped her arms around his torso and rested her head on his shoulder. And when she felt him stroke her hair, she tightened her hold in the security his warmth granted her.

It had been one hell-of-a-night.

Her sudden display of affection was a bit abnormal, but Danny didn’t question it as he held her close, her natural scent of coconut and soft musk overlaid by coniferous trees when he placed a gentle kiss on her head. “Your home earlier than usual,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

She just nodded, blinking at the shadows on the carpet. She stayed put for a moment longer before stepping back to meet him eye-to-eye. “Thank you for being patient with me. I know it’s not easy.” She knew she was damaging her relationship with him, slowly but surely. “And I’m sorry.” She would never be able to express that appreciation enough. 

He had never tried to fix her, quit her, or slow her down. No matter how indifferent, or reckless, or careless she became, he never stopped loving her. And that was a hard pill for her to swallow, because who could ever love someone they would have to spend a lifetime studying, learning, and revisiting? 

It was him. It just took hell and high water for her to find him. 

And she was still going through hell and high water, but now she was taking him with her.

He blinked at her with the same look he’d given her countlessly, ever since he’d met her—the one that showed his attentiveness and concern, even though he didn’t know the depths of what she was saying. He had never pushed her to tell him her secrets or open-up more than she was ready to. But then, he went back to his conversation with Tara from earlier. Her words stung. A lot. However, he wasn’t a part of the tight-knit group they had tied-down in Woodsboro. He wasn’t Woodsboro . And his partner had told him that. Exactly. “It’s okay,” he replied.

“No, it’s not,” Samantha shook her head. She was too tired for her brain to actually come up with an explanation, so she just put together one that would satisfy tonight. “There are things that I just can’t talk about right now, but there are also things that I can and should’ve talked about a while ago.” She shifted her weight as she looked off, put in the same uncomfortable position she had grown accustomed to in her lifetime, “It’s not fair to you. It’s not fair to anyone, and I know that. I… I’m working on it.” She locked eyes with him again, because she was serious. She had made her decision, like Billy had told her to. “I’m trying, so… please, bear with me just a little longer.”

Her boyfriend listened to her, recognizing the weakening cords in her voice that hinted at it breaking. Her eyes were glassy, but he couldn’t tell if they were teary underneath the glaze of utter exhaustion. He nodded, moving his hand to brush her hair back, then ran his knuckles gently down the side of her face, “It’s alright, Sam.” It was then that he saw the tears start to glisten on her lower eyelid.

It didn’t feel alright. She had to give him the win though, because she couldn’t go back and forth on this matter anymore than she already had. “I’ll explain what I can in the morning.”

But she did have one more thing to take care of before she could settle for the night, or… try to settle at least…

A low growling sound interrupted the quiet, leading the male’s blue eyes to drop where the noise came from: Sam’s stomach. The solemn mysteries of the night were slightly lifted by a light chuckle as he lightened the mood. “Well, for tonight, it sounds like you should eat. I can make you something, if you like” He knew it was late, but he also knew she hadn’t eaten dinner and he didn’t recall seeing her eat anything before then. “I know it’s late, but…”

However, his girlfriend just shook her head, unable to help the small upturn of her lips at his lighthearted attempt, “No, I’m fine. Thank you.” He gave a quiet “okay” in response, and she felt his hand come up to rub her side, as if easing her empty stomach that would continue to be ignored. She instinctively glanced down, the cuts and scratches from the shrubbery she raced through stinging from her clothing being pressed down by his hand. Which then reminded her, “Um… is Tara still awake?”

This may have been a stupid question, considering that it was about to be 2:00 in the morning, however Tara was notorious for going to bed at 9:00 or 10:00 but not going to sleep until late, sometimes even 3 AM. She would either be on her phone or just lay there listening to music. Sometimes she would read, but they were more like attempts to read, because she didn’t have enough self-discipline to stay engaged for longer than a couple of pages. 

Danny knew this though and glanced off in the direction of the room Tara, Chad, and Mindy shared as if he could see through the walls, “I don’t know. I talked to her right after you left, and then she went to bed.” He looked back at her. “She was really upset.” 

That hurt. A lot. All she could think of was the last thing she said to her before she jumped the gate and ran off. She couldn’t blame her younger sister for feeling the way she did or going to beat answers out of someone else. She wanted to blame it on the whole inner-wolf thing, but the reality was that it was just her seething at what she couldn’t control. 

She was helpless, and that’s what drove her crazy. It was a vulnerability. It was pathetic. It was incompetence. 

But Tara didn’t deserve that. Not after everything she had been through, including the grieving of her own relationship from when Sam left on her 18th birthday. The empty, lonely void of those five years she had faced on her own, growing up quicker than she was supposed to. That wasn’t fair to her.

And neither was Sam’s treatment of her…

“I need to talk to her,” the she-wolf thought out-loud, explaining herself because she knew she hadn’t done that very well, so far. “I said something to her I shouldn’t have, when I left… And I feel really bad about it.” Her jaw tightened with the reflex of catching emotion before it flooded into her voice.

Danny was quick to reassure her, “You’re her sister. She loves you no matter what.” He followed her as she looked up at him with an I-hope-so look, which led him to dismiss her, nodding towards the front of the house. “You can go check on her, if you want to. If she’s not awake, you can talk to her in the morning.” He curved the hand on her flank around the small of her back to pull her in and press another loving kiss to her head, before pulling back. “Okay?”

Sam nodded, managing to try and give him a reassured smile, but it didn’t come out like she had hoped. “Okay…”

He then returned the nod and removed his hand from her. “The bed’s already undone. You come to bed, when you’re ready.” As secretive as she could be, those dark eyes never lied. He could read them better than anything, even in the lowlights of the living room. “I know you’re tired.”

His partner gave him another nod, before breaking away from their conversational position. She heard the pull-string of the lamp click to eliminate all light in the room as she made it towards the front of the house and to the hallway that was straight to the left of the front door, where the remaining members of the household were. 

There were only three rooms, Chad’s game room, which they called the Blue Room directly to the left when entering the hallway, then about halfway down was a bathroom, and then straight across from the Blue Room was the bedroom that the youngest three shared, which—while technically should be called their room—was commonly referred to as the Green Room because of the pale, grayish-green walls.

She kept her footsteps as quiet as she could while making her way down the hall, but the house was aged so the wood floors creaked at the worst times. She met the door and silently opened it, the inevitable click of the latch piercing the soft swishing of the overhead fan as she peered in.

All three inhabitants were fast asleep, the subtle glow of the nightlight on the far wall giving a peaceful ambience that showed their silhouettes: Mindy in the bed directly facing the door, Chad on the air mattress in front of the closet that was against the wall that the door shared, and Tara in the bed farthest away. The one parallel to Mindy’s. 

Sam blinked through the halflight at her, but it was obvious she was turned away, facing the wall like she was still mad, even though she was asleep. And that sight alone made the decision clear that she would have to talk to her in the morning. 

That is, if she even wanted to hear it…

Her older sister sighed and backed out of the room, silently shutting the door to turn around and make-way back across the house to where her shared room with Danny was. 

Halfway down the hallway, the grandfather clock rang out, striking the 2:00 AM hour. It simultaneously blended with a chime from her phone in her back pocket.

A text tone.

Who in the hell would text her at 2 in the morning?

She paused in the pitch-black corridor and reached behind her to pull out her phone. It lit up to reveal a name and a message. A name she knew all too well but hadn’t heard from directly in 18 months. From a ghost in a small town, to an undeleted contact, to a cover-up caller, to 1-out-of-3 dead murderers… 

Her blood ran cold.

Richie Kirsch .

But that couldn’t be possible. Could it? Ethan was alive, but surely, he was too smart to pull the same trick twice? Wasn’t he?

But this wasn’t a call. This was a text. And the message sent was one that only an ex-lover would send. 

But how? Richie was dead. 

Gone. 

Forever. 

Right?

Now, wide awake, Samantha’s eyes reflected the notification, reading it over and over again, with her heart picking up its pace every time she did so, that familiar sense of haunt rising through her.

She could hear it come from his lips like he was purring it in her ear behind her, in the darkness of the hallway, at the solitary hour of 2:00 AM, and she knew right then and there… This was where it all began.

‘What’s up girl, how you been?’

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All my best! 🩶

- parker (BWS)