#but i cried like three times writing this

[marauder-misprint]

Hiii! So I wanna start off by saying how absolutely in love I am with your writing. It's so fucking amazing and I can never get enough, I swear I've read most of your marauders' fics more than three times cause they just stay absolute gems 😭

I love how you write Remus, he's such a cutie, and I was hoping maybe you'd want to write a little fic with shy!reader x casanova!Remus? Some pining from reader's side, who's not at all popular or well-known and wayyy too shy to ever make a move, let alone on Remus? I'd like it to be fluffy, but it can contain basically anything you want 🫶

Thank you so so so much!

🥰🥰🥰 Thank you for all the love/support and the request!

And if reader won't make a move on Remus, he'll make a move on you. But politely bc that's who Remus is.

'These damn stairs'

Remus Lupin x reader

2k words

cw: fluff, mutual pining

It was a common sight to see: Remus studying in the library at a full table. Occasionally, the other seats were filled by James, Sirius and Peter, but more often than not, they were filled with various girls. He was always leaning over the table to explain something, keeping his voice low enough to not disrupt others. When he wasn’t at his own table, you would watch him offer his assistance to other girls in the area. It was obvious why so many girls loved him and purposefully sat near his table, simply hoping their expression was confused enough to catch his attention.

From what you could tell, he loved it too. How could he not? Pretty girls from every house trying to get his attention. You knew Gryffindor girls were the luckiest; they could vie for his attention in their common room as well and they had the highest chance of sharing a class with him. 

You watched Remus from afar. He was a mischievous genius, part of the Marauders and a prefect. You were a nobody who preferred to stay out of the spotlight. As much as you’d like to have Remus’ attention, you knew it would come with far more eyes on you than you wanted. You made peace with admiring him in secret. You envied the girls with the courage to lean over his shoulder, asking him to read their essay for them. You wished you were a part of the group that surrounded him during quidditch matches. You dreamed that one day Remus might invite you to Hogsmeade on a date, despite knowing that the chances of that were slim. 

You were surviving the day and on your way to the library during your free period. 

At least you were when your foot sunk into a fake step and got lodged. You cried out as your books spewed from your arms, spilling down the stairs. The few students who were around you snickered and walked around you. No one stopped to help you up or free your foot. The embarrassment alone was enough for tears to prick your eyes. You squeezed your eyes shut and took deep breaths to gather yourself.

“Hey, are you okay?” 

That voice. You’d recognize it anywhere. You opened your eyes to see Remus kneeling next to you. He had some of your things that had fallen farther down the stairs. 

“These damn stairs, right?” he joked when you didn’t answer him.

He set your things down a few steps up and then gently reached for your calf. 

“Turn your foot to the left. Then point your toes. It’ll help you wiggle your foot free,” he instructed.

You did as told and soon enough you were free. 

“Thanks,” you said softly. 

You immediately went into gathering the rest of your things.

“Yeah, it’s no problem, love.” He stood up when you did. “I’m Remus, by the way.” Part of you wanted to laugh that Remus thought you didn’t know who he was. Instead, you mumbled out your name and said, “Thanks again, Remus.”

Then, no longer feeling like studying due to your humiliation, you headed in the direction of your common room, holding your book tight to your chest. Remus watched you walk away. He recognized your face from the classes you had together and the time you spent at the library. He had never approached you in the library because of the focus that emanated from your table; he didn’t want to disturb your flow. 

You hoped to put the embarrassment of falling into a false step behind you. You had gotten Remus’ attention, but it wasn’t in the way you wanted. You certainly hadn’t wanted it to be paired with the laughter of your peers. Little did you know how deeply you caught Remus’ attention.

He chatted with his friends outside of the Transfiguration classroom the next day. When you walked by, he smiled at you and said hello. You returned the gesture and hoped you weren’t blushing as all of his friends looked at you. You took your seat and tried to calm yourself down. Simple pleasantries should not send you into such a frenzy. 

Remus noticed your reaction, finding it curious. It didn’t deter him from acknowledging you whenever he was near you. He would’ve been lying to himself if he said he didn’t think your blush was cute. The more he observed you, the more he realized how much you kept to yourself and seemed content to be alone. That, however, made Remus want to get to know you. He wanted to know the girl who hadn’t put herself directly in his path. 

He made sure to stop by wherever you were studying in the library to say hello. He would take a longer route to where his friends were sitting in the Great Hall so that he could ask you a question about homework, whether he actually needed the answer or not. He tried to catch you in between classes, but you proved to be more elusive then. Each interaction left you blushing and flustered, although after two weeks of it, you came more accustomed to it. Remus saw that as progress and hoped you would be open to having a real conversation with him. 

If someone had told you a month ago that you’d be trying to avoid Remus, you wouldn’t have believed them. However, you somewhat were. Every time he spoke to you, you felt like the whole castle was listening in and judging every word you said to him. You assumed that he was just being polite. You assumed that you were just the girl who fell on the stairs to him. 

---

“When I call your name, come get your essay and then you are dismissed,” Professor Flitwick said, holding the stack of graded essays at the front of the classroom. “James Potter, Emmeline Vance, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin.”

The first four students got up and retrieved their essays. You rested your head on your hand as you waited for your name. Obviously they weren’t in alphabetical order, and you assumed it wasn’t grade-wise either since you were confident in the essay you turned in. After a few more names were called, Flitwick called yours. You got your essay, noted the O at the top and left the classroom with a small smile on your face. Maybe it was the order in which the essays were turned in?

“Hey!” Remus called from where he was standing off to the side. 

You kept walking. There was no way that he was talking to you. Sirius or Peter must’ve been called after you. 

Then he called your name. You froze. You could hear footsteps as he jogged over to you. 

“How’d you do?” he asked once at your side. “O! Nice.”

You realized you were still holding your essay and hurriedly tucked it inside of your things.

“Yeah, I put in the work.” 

He gave you his easy smile and then ran a hand through his hair.

“I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

“Um, sure?” 

“Would you like to study with me later?”

You stared at him, unable to breathe. Had he just asked if you wanted to study with him? Well, yes, he had. But it didn’t feel real. Your mind started to spin with worry. You wanted to study with Remus. You wanted to spend time with him. But whenever he studied, he was always surrounded by so many other people vying for his attention. It was bad enough that whenever he talked to you, you could feel the eyes of everyone passing you; you knew that they were wondering why a guy like Remus was talking to a nobody like you. 

Remus said your name, bringing you out of your thoughts. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. I’d like that,” you managed to say.

His smile, which had briefly faltered at your hesitation, relaxed. 

“Great!” he said. “Meet you outside the library after dinner, yeah?” 

“Yeah. Erm, I’ll see you then, Remus.”

Remus turned and headed back towards the classroom, likely to wait for Sirius and Peter if they hadn’t been called already. You took a deep breath to steady yourself before you continued on your own way. You had just agreed to study with Remus and he was the one to ask you. He had actually asked you. And you agreed. 

It didn’t take long for your nerves to spike. You were regretting your decision to agree. The feeling of looming embarrassment hung around you for the rest of the day and through dinner. Part of you debated sending Remus a note saying that you were feeling ill and couldn’t make it, but another part told you that he might not invite you again and this could be your chance to make an impression on him. 

You ended up walking to the library. With each step, you felt your heart rate increase. You were sure that if you weren’t holding onto your things with such a death grip, your hands would be shaking. 

Remus was waiting for you, just as he had said he would. 

“Hi!” he greeted you enthusiastically. 

You smiled at him as he held open the door for you.

“I’ve got a table claimed in the back,” he told you, taking the lead.

Your nerves changed into confusion as you passed Remus’ usual collection of tables. He led you to a more secluded part of the library where his things littered one of the smaller tables with only two chairs around it.

Trying not to sound too ecstatic by the sight, you asked, “Oh, is it just us?”

Remus chuckled softly. “I invited you to study, not our entire year.”

A subtle blush dusted your cheeks.

“Oh… I just… You’re usually…” you mumbled.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. There was that easy smile again. “Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I assumed you’d rather have a more private table.” He paused as he watched your face for a change in expression. “We can move to a different table, if you’d like.”

Your blush became more prominent. He actually put thought into what table you’d like to study at? 

“Oh, no, no. This is good. You’re right. I study better when there’s less people around.”

“Helps with focusing, don’t it?”

“Yeah,” you breathed as you placed your things on the table.

His smile grew. He pulled out your chair and helped you in before taking his own seat. The two of you worked diligently in silence for a while. Every once in a while he stopped and watched you work; he loved the face you made when you focused so deeply that nothing around you could catch your attention. 

“What’d you think of Slughorn’s lecture today?” he asked.

“Hm?” You looked up from your assignment and processed what he had asked. “Kind of repetitive, if I’m honest. I guess some students need the review though…”

“Glad it wasn’t just me,” he smirked. “Good thing there are some pretty distractions in that class.”

You gave him a curious look as you repeated, “Pretty distractions?”

“You know,” he said, resting his elbow on the table, “the same pretty distraction that I have Charms, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Defense with.”

You bit your lip. You had those classes with him.

“Believe it or not, saw that same distraction on the stairs a few weeks ago. Strange how she travels…”

Oh. oh. You blushed furiously before turning your attention back to your assignment. Remus Lupin was not flirting with you. There was no way. 

He let you return to your work, watching you sort through your thoughts for a minute before returning to his own. Once again, you worked in tandem. After a while, you started yawning. You cleaned up your stuff, which caught Remus attention. 

“This was nice,” he said as he started to gather his own things. “I’d like to study with you more, if you’ll have me.”

If you’ll have me. 

“Same time tomorrow?” you offered.

“Same time tomorrow.”

As he watched you leave the library, all Remus could think about was getting you to come out of that shell of yours. Maybe then he’d be able to ask you out on a date. 

[aclikeairconditioning]

Since I wrote one for reverse verse Edwin, here’s one for Charles. Takes place in Hell, though nothing’s too graphic (still, be warned.)

I had to go through the torture of rereading/viewing this comic to write this (it wasn’t torture at all, this is one of my favorite @technically-human comics. Charles is so precious, and I almost cried while writing this and looking into his face at the same time.)

I will also add @i-am-as-normal-as-you-are because I forgot you last time. I’m very sorry, that was rude of me, I know this is your au too.

When I got to the end I realized that I was ending similarly to the way I ended Edwin’s, so I leaned into that and used the same wording.

(Ps. @technically-human, you have no idea how much of a euphoric adrenaline high your response gave me last time. Thank you so much, and happy belated birthday!)

-

Charles tripped.

Apparently, 70 years of practice became null and void when interrupted by three decades of peace. Safety. Home.

Charles tripped, and was immediately caught up in the storm of people running by, most of whom didn’t pay any attention to the sixteen-year-old struggling to get back up, to keep going, to not get caught.

Charles couldn’t even blame them. He would have, had in the past, done the same.

That didn’t make him less scared.

That wouldn’t make it hurt less when The Conductor eventually caught up to him.

He did manage to get up, though (a minor miracle on its own.) As he prepared himself to run again, get out as fast as he could, try to make up for lost time, a flash of blue in the corner of his eye gave him barely a moment's notice before he was being grabbed from behind.

His first instinct was to fight. To shove off whoever, or whatever, had grabbed him. Punch and claw and fight to leave the other behind in the dust as he got as far away as possible.

He would have, too. He would have, had it not been for the slightly panicked call of, “Found you!” in his ear, spoken in a voice he knew better than his own.

“Edwin!” The name came out more of a gasp, than Charles would have liked. “What are you doing here?”

Because he was here. God, Edwin Payne (just, devout, brilliant, Edwin Payne,) was here. In Hell. The one place that Charles thought he could protect him from, despite the others’ insistence to protect him (and the others newly added to the ranks of the Dead Boy Detectives.)

Edwin, who he had always thought believed, if only a little bit, that Charles deserved the torment he had been sent to.

Edwin, who was here-

“Protecting you, as always.”

Oh.

Oh.

He was here, because he really believed that Charles needed protecting. Who wanted to protect him, despite the Hell forged demeanor, the unspeakable things he had done before they met.

He was here, in Hell, actively going against his God, mustering up a fragile smile for Charles’ benefit.

He was perfect.

He was everything.

He needed to know.

So Charles grasped Edwin by his shoulders, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he made the declaration that could change everything (just please don’t take him away from me.)

“I love you,” He all but sobbed, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth against all odds.

“What?” Edwin asked, taken aback. He blinked, eyes wide with shock. “Well, I- You know that- Me too, of course.”

Charles gave a short chuckle, shaking his head, because he didn’t get it. “That’s not what I meant, mate.”

He sniffed heavily before looking back up into Edwin’s eyes. “I love you. Like courting, sweethearts, holding hands in the park, love you.”

Edwin’s eyes had gotten larger, if that were even possible, panic taking over any kind of control he’d still had. Charles’ heart only sank a bit at that. He could have predicted how Edwin’s deeply moral sensibilities would take this sentiment.

“Charles, I can’t-”

But Charles wasn’t able to figure out what Edwin couldn’t as a burning hand closed over the back of his neck, ripping him away and towards the engine room.

He was taken away to his next death with the sound of Edwin calling his name behind him.

[ruewritesoccasionally]

The Reunion Pt. 5 | Aaron Pierre

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Reader

Warnings: Fluff, emotional intimacy, soft yet passionate smut (18+), deep yearning, mutual pining finally paying off, and excessive tenderness. 🥹💛

Chapter Summary: A first date years in the making—filled with warmth, nostalgia, and the quiet certainty of something undeniable. As the night unfolds, hesitation gives way to longing, and love finally finds its way home

Word Count: 3.3K

a/n: now i know i said that i hate writing series' but this is different, this feels like a love letter to everything they’ve built and there's one more chapter left to go. Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3 & Pt 4

He let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head at his own reflection. It wasn’t like this was the first time he was seeing her. He had spent years by her side, watched her grow, laughed with her, held her when she cried. And yet, this—this—felt different. It was different.

Because tonight, she wasn’t just his best friend. She was his.

Aaron ran a hand down his face before glancing at his phone. No new messages. He checked the time—still early, but not early enough to be standing in his bedroom like an idiot, overthinking every possible outcome.

Would the night go smoothly? Would she regret this? Would he?

No. Not a chance in hell.

The moment she had kissed him back, the moment she had whispered so have I, every lingering doubt had been silenced.

Still, the nerves remained.

With a sigh, he grabbed his cologne, spritzing it lightly before second-guessing and reaching for a different bottle instead.

His phone buzzed. A call from Marcus.

Aaron swiped to answer, putting him on speaker as he continued getting ready.

“Yo, what’s up?”

“Should be asking you that,” Marcus said, amusement lacing his tone. “You good?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Marcus scoffed. “Bro, I called to ask if you wanted to grab a drink, and you sounded like you were pacing a hole in your floor. And now I hear you fussing over something. What, your hair not curling the way you like?”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Man, shut up.”

A beat of silence. Then, Marcus hummed knowingly. “Ohhh. Wait. Wait.” He laughed. “It’s the date, isn’t it?”

Aaron didn’t respond, but that only made Marcus double down.

“Wow. You’ve been friends with this woman for years, and now you’re stressing over cologne? Damn, bro.”

“I’m not stressing.”

Marcus outright cackled. “Right. And I’m about to get signed to the Lakers.”

Aaron huffed, setting the cologne down with a thud.

Marcus’ voice softened, though the teasing edge remained. “Look, man. It’s her. You’ve already won. Just be yourself.”

Aaron exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face.

Marcus was right. He didn’t need to prove anything to her. She already knew him—every piece of him.

But deep down, he still knew—this wasn’t just another date.

It was the date.

The one that changed everything.

He picked up a small velvet box from his nightstand, flipping it open to reveal the delicate silver bracelet inside. It wasn’t flashy, wasn’t extravagant, but it meant something. Inside the band, a date was engraved—the day they had met.

A reminder that, no matter what, she had always been the best thing to happen to him.

“Aaron?” Marcus’ voice pulled him back. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” he said, snapping the box shut. “I gotta go.”

Marcus chuckled. “Good luck, lover boy.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, hung up, grabbed his keys, and exhaled once more before heading out the door.

She had changed her outfit three times.

First, a sleek black dress. Too formal.

Then, a casual top and jeans. Too relaxed.

Her hands trembled slightly as she held up another dress, scrutinising it under the soft glow of her bedroom light. Too casual? Too much? Too desperate?

She sighed, tossing it onto the growing pile on her bed.

Now, she stood in front of the mirror, staring at the soft, figure-hugging dress she had finally settled on. It was perfect—hopefully. The colour caught the corner of her eye, unlocking a memory. ‘You should wear that more often’, Aaron had once told her offhandedly, his voice warm with something she hadn’t dared to name at the time. Looks good on you. She swallowed, smoothing her hands over the fabric. Maybe, just maybe, he’d meant more than she realised.

This wasn’t just any date.

Her heart clenched at the thought.

Every other date before this had been easy. Simple. She had gone in knowing how it would end, whether it was with polite goodbyes or the quiet realisation that there was nothing there to build on.

But this?

This was Aaron.

Her best friend. The one person who had seen her at every stage of life and somehow still looked at her like she was everything.

She caught her reflection in the mirror, eyes scanning over the outfit she’d finally settled on. The soft fabric draped perfectly, highlighting her figure without trying too hard. It’s just Aaron, she told herself, smoothing her hands down her sides. Just Aaron.

So why was she still second-guessing?

Her phone vibrated.

Aisha.

Breathe, babe. He already loves you—this is just a formality.

YN let out a small, breathy laugh, her fingers tightening around the phone.

Loves me.

Her stomach twisted—not in fear, but in something deeper. A longing, an ache that had always been there, buried beneath logic and hesitation.

Because Aisha was right.

She had known it for a while now, in the way Aaron looked at her, in the way he spoke to her, in the way he had always been there. This wasn’t just a first date. This was a beginning.

She exhaled, shaking off the nerves. Then, smiling to herself, she sent back a simple response:

I know.

And for the first time that evening, she felt ready.

Aaron stood outside her door, rolling his shoulders as if that would ease the tension coiled in his body. The moment he lifted his hand to knock, the door swung open, revealing her.

And for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

She was stunning. The soft, figure-hugging dress—the one he’d offhandedly complimented months ago—wrapped around her body like it had been made for her. The colour made his chest ache, because, of course, she remembered.

Of course, she wore it for him.

Her lips parted as if to say something, but words seemed to fail them both. A slow smile tugged at his lips, his voice lower than he intended.

“You look… incredible.”

She glanced away, smoothing her hand over the fabric, pretending she didn’t feel the heat spreading up her neck. “You clean up nice yourself.”

Aaron chuckled, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

The drive was easy, filled with light teasing and an undercurrent of anticipation neither of them acknowledged. When he pulled up to the restaurant, she blinked in surprise.

“This place—”

“—we talked about coming here for years,” he finished, watching her reaction closely. “Figured it was about time we made it happen.”

She turned to him fully, eyes warm with something unreadable. “You really remembered that?”

Aaron scoffed, feigning offense. “You think I don’t listen when you talk?”

“I think you’re scarily good at remembering things I don’t even remember saying.”

He smirked. “Some things are worth remembering.”

The night unfolded like a memory they hadn’t lived yet. Conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter, stolen glances, and quiet moments that spoke louder than words.

At one point, their hands brushed on the table, neither of them moving away. The warmth of his skin against hers sent a hum through her veins.

“I was thinking earlier,” Aaron said, his voice dipping into something softer, “about all the times I almost told you.”

She tilted her head. “Told me what?”

“That I was in love with you.”

Her breath caught.

Aaron smiled, small and knowing. “You probably didn’t notice, but there were so many moments when I wanted to say something. Like the time you got that job offer you were so nervous about, and I took you out to celebrate? That night felt more like a date than any date I’d ever been on.”

She thought back to that evening—how he’d made her feel like the only person in the room, the way he’d looked at her across the table, like she was something precious.

She swallowed. “I remember.”

“And then there was your birthday last year,” he continued, voice dipping lower, like a confession meant only for her ears. “We were standing outside your place, and you hugged me goodnight. I swear, I almost didn’t let go.”

She let out a shaky breath, eyes searching his.

“I didn’t want to ruin what we had,” he admitted. “But if I’m being honest? I was ruining myself by pretending I didn’t feel this way.”

The weight of his words settled between them, heavy and full of meaning.

She reached across the table, lacing her fingers through his. “You’re not ruining anything.”

Aaron exhaled, squeezing her hand. “Good.”

The drive back was filled with that same quiet warmth, but there was something else simmering beneath the surface. Something unspoken but impossible to ignore.

As they pulled up outside her place, she turned to him, smirking. “You really wore cologne just for me, huh?”

Aaron scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Mm. Marcus told me you were stressing over it.”

He groaned, shaking his head. “That man has no loyalty.”

She laughed, unbuckling her seatbelt. “It’s cute, though.”

Aaron hummed. “You calling me cute?”

“I said it’s cute. Not you.”

He arched a brow. “That so?”

Before she could react, he moved swiftly—unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning in, caging her against the car door.

The playful banter died between them, replaced by something heavier.

His face was inches from hers, his thumb grazing the curve of her jaw. He tilted his head, studying her.

Their breaths mingled in the small space between them.

Her heart hammered.

Not yet.

He didn’t say it out loud, but she heard it anyway.

He exhaled sharply, dropping his hand and leaning back. “Go inside, sweetheart.”

She swallowed hard, her fingers twitching against the door handle.

Then, she turned back to face him.

“Aaron?”

He was still watching her, still gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him steady.

She hesitated, then—softly, carefully—said, “Come inside. Just for a little while.”

Aaron’s breath hitched. For a split second, she thought he might say no. But then, without a word, he shut off the engine and got out.

Inside, the energy between them shifted again—easier, lighter. She kicked off her heels, sighing as she wiggled her toes, and Aaron chuckled, shaking his head.

“Don’t laugh,” she murmured, sinking onto the couch, stretching her legs beneath her. “I survived a whole evening in those.”

Aaron smirked, settling into the chair across from her, watching her like he was memorising every little thing—the way she tucked her legs up, the way she absently played with the hem of her dress, the way her face softened now that she was home.

“You’re staring,” she pointed out, tilting her head.

“I know.”

He didn’t even try to deny it.

They fell into conversation easily, reminiscing, sharing old memories that now felt different—charged with the weight of everything they had yet to say.

"You remember that trip we all took? The one where Marcus swore he could build a fire from scratch?" she mused, laughing softly.

Aaron grinned. “You mean the one where he nearly burned off his eyebrows?”

She snorted. "And you were the one who had to step in and actually get the fire going."

He shrugged, feigning modesty. "What can I say? I like fixing things."

Her laughter softened, fading into something quieter.

Aaron leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “I like this.”

She blinked. “Like what?”

“This. Us.”

Her heart thumped against her ribs. "Me too."

The words sat between them, gentle but weighted.

She barely noticed the way he had shifted closer.

Barely noticed the way her own body had angled toward him.

Then, as the silence stretched, he reached for her hand, his thumb grazing over her knuckles.

The world quieted.

His voice, low and rough with something deep, broke the stillness.

“I meant what I said.”

Her breath caught.

“I don’t just want tonight,” he murmured. “I want all of it.”

A slow warmth unfurled in her chest. She had spent so long holding back, convincing herself this wasn’t possible. That she couldn’t have him, not like this.

But looking at him now—his stormy eyes filled with something so sure, so certain—she finally let herself believe it.

She laced her fingers through his and exhaled, steady.

“Then take it.”

The first kiss inside her apartment had been different.

Not rushed, not desperate—deliberate.

A slow, deep, drawn-out claiming.

Aaron kissed her like he was memorising her. Like he was tracing each curve, each shiver, each breath to commit it all to memory. His hands skimmed her waist, mapping the warmth of her skin beneath her dress, but there was no urgency, no rush to take.

It was patience. It was devotion. It was this is where I’ve always belonged.

She felt it in the way his lips moved against hers, in the way his breath stuttered slightly when she pressed closer, her nails dragging lightly over the short hair at the nape of his neck.

When they broke apart, Aaron rested his forehead against hers, his breathing uneven.

“Are you sure?” His voice was low, rough, barely more than a whisper.

She cupped his face, running her thumb over the curve of his jaw. “Aaron,” she murmured, “I’ve always been sure.”

A quiet exhale left his lips, like he had been waiting for this confirmation all his life. He turned his head, pressing a reverent kiss to her palm, then to her fingertips, then to the inside of her wrist, lingering there like he was giving thanks.

When he guided her backward, toward the bedroom, it wasn’t urgent—it was unspoken understanding.

He needed to see her. All of her.

His fingers trailed over the zipper of her dress, undoing it with aching slowness. Every inch of revealed skin was met with his lips, soft and unhurried. When the fabric slipped down her body, pooling at her feet, he pulled back slightly, eyes dragging over her frame like she was something divine.

“Let me see you,” he murmured, voice thick with awe.

And when she let him—when she stood there, bare before him, without hesitation or doubt—his expression softened into something almost reverent.

Aaron reached out, fingertips ghosting down the path of a stretch mark along her hip, tracing over the swell of her curves like he was committing each one to memory. His gaze flickered up to hers, something unreadable swirling behind those eyes.

“You’re breathtaking.”

A warmth bloomed in her chest, and before she could reply, his lips were on her again, guiding her toward the bed, their bodies moving as if they had done this a thousand times in another life.

He took his time, learning her in a way neither of them had ever allowed before. Every touch was measured, every kiss purposeful. When his lips found the inside of her thigh, he let them linger, inhaling softly, as if he were breathing her in.

He didn’t rush.

He savoured.

When his mouth finally met her, her fingers twisted into the sheets, a gasp spilling from her lips that made Aaron groan against her. He gripped her thighs, anchoring her to him, unwilling to let her escape the pleasure unravelling between them.

“Aaron,” she choked out, barely able to form words.

His hands squeezed her thighs, keeping her still as his mouth worked her over with slow, intoxicating precision.

“Look at me,” he murmured against her, voice dark and commanding.

Her head lifted, dazed, locking onto his gaze.

The sight alone nearly undid her.

He needed her to see this. To see him. To see how much he wanted this, how much he wanted her.

And when he finally kissed his way back up her body, settling between her legs, her breath hitched at the feeling of him pressed against her, solid and unyielding.

Aaron exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against hers, voice shaking.

“I’m not rushing this,” he whispered. “I’ve waited too damn long.”

His movements were slow, deliberate, filled with a reverence that made her chest ache.

When he finally sank into her, it wasn’t just the pleasure that stole her breath—it was the emotion behind it.

This wasn’t just about need.

This was everything.

His lips found hers again, swallowing the soft moan that spilled from her throat, his hands exploring her body with a kind of tenderness that left her undone. He moved with an aching slowness, rolling his hips against hers in a way that made her toes curl.

Her arms wrapped around his back, pulling him impossibly closer, grounding herself in his warmth, his scent, the way he whispered her name like it was sacred.

“I love you.”

The words came unbidden, but neither of them flinched.

Because this had never been a question.

Her hand found his cheek, guiding his lips back to hers, pouring everything into that kiss.

“I love you too.”

Aaron’s breath shuddered as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, pressing kisses to her skin between whispered words of devotion.

Their rhythm never faltered.

Their love never wavered.

And when she finally fell apart beneath him, when her body trembled with the force of it, Aaron followed her over the edge, his grip tightening like he never wanted to let go.

And he wouldn’t.

Not now.

Not ever.

The room was quiet, save for the steady hum of their breathing.

No words were needed.

Aaron lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other lazily tracing patterns along the curve of her spine. She lay draped over him, cheek pressed against his chest, listening to the slow, rhythmic beat of his heart.

She had never felt safer.

His fingers found her hair, playing with the soft curls with an absentminded tenderness. He let out a long, contented sigh, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep and satisfaction.

“We’re gonna be insufferable to everyone after this.”

She laughed against his skin, her body shaking slightly with the movement. “Oh, absolutely.”

Aaron grinned, tilting his head down to press a kiss into her hair. “Marcus is never gonna let me hear the end of this.”

She lifted her head just enough to meet his eyes, amusement dancing in her own. “Aisha’s been rooting for this since the dawn of time. She might actually cry.”

Aaron chuckled, his fingertips skimming along the dip of her waist. “They were right, though.”

She raised a brow. “About what?”

His gaze softened, his hand stilling over her hip. “About us.”

She swallowed, her heart doing something traitorous in her chest.

Aaron exhaled, shaking his head with a fond smirk. “Remember when we swore we’d never date within the friend group?”

She groaned, burying her face in his chest. “God, we were so adamant.”

“We thought it would be messy.”

She turned her face just enough so he could hear the teasing smile in her voice. “Well… you were pretty messy about it.”

Aaron scoffed, eyes narrowing playfully. “Excuse me?”

She grinned, propping herself up on his chest, her fingers toying with the ends of his curls. “The brooding? The longing stares? The dramatic internal monologues?”

Aaron grabbed her wrist, flipping them effortlessly so she was beneath him again, pinned to the sheets. “You like the way I look at you, though.”

Her breath caught as his gaze swept over her, full of warmth, of something deeper. “Yeah,” she murmured, voice softer now. “I do.”

Aaron dipped his head, kissing her forehead, her cheek, the tip of her nose, before finally brushing his lips over hers in a slow, lingering kiss.

When he pulled back, his thumb ran over the curve of her jaw, tracing it lightly.

“I’ve got you. Always.”

Her heart squeezed, her fingers curling into his back, holding him closer.

They had spent so many years orbiting around each other, lingering at the edge of almost. But now, there was no more hesitation, no more waiting.

They had each other.

And this?

This was only the beginning.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718 @kxllanxtdoor @random-human02

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[nerdallwritey]

Three Little Words

Summary: “Well, this has been lovely,” Astarion said, making his way to the door leading back into the inn proper. “Anything else we should know before we head off to save the day?” He was already halfway out the door, not bothering to wait for an answer, clearly trying to make a stealthy exit.  You eyed Halsin, who nodded and retrieved the rogue by his arm before he could leave, closing the door behind both of them for good measure. “Let me go, you humongous imbecile!” Astarion pounded his free arm against Halsin’s chest before Halsin released him and refused to let him move a muscle towards the door. Astarion huffed and crossed his arms, turning his nose up at the rest of you. “Is he okay?” Isobel asked.  “This is relatively normal behavior from him, actually,” Karlach said. OR Astarion accidentally says something nice, then acts like an idiot for the rest of the day.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ (no smut) Word count: 8.3k CW: lots of Act 2 exposition, Rolan is a drunk dick, Astarion's scars, sitcom antics, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot, and more so than usual), Halsin's tits Spoilers: Spoilers for Act 2 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.) Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 7 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find the masterlist here.

a/n: PART 7 IS ALIIIIIIIIIVE!!! Thank you for waiting so patiently for this one, I had more planned for it but decided to cut it in half since I already yap too much as it is. I wanted this chapter to be a fresh enough take on the beginning of Act 2, and I hope you all enjoy! This one gets really sitcom-y at certain points which was a blast to write and I hope you have a blast reading! Part 8 is already in the works and I'm VERY excited to share that one with you all!! There's no smut in this chapter, and for that, I apologize. If all goes according to plan, Part 8 will have you covered! (Thank you to my beta @kermitwazowski, and the wonderful @arzen9 for reading!) As a reminder, last time, you fell asleep in Astarion's arms and he realized he's in love with you...

Taglist: Moved to the comment section, since tumblr hates sharing fun with friends - please let me know if you'd like to be added to the list!

You awoke to an empty bed. 

Drearily and with a tired moan, your arm flung out to search blindly in the dark, trying to make sense of your surroundings. Slowly, it came back to you - you’d made it to an inn in the Shadow Cursed Lands. You’d shared a passionate night with Astarion. Perhaps the vampire whose arms you were sure you’d fallen asleep in had rolled off the bed in the night? You inched your body to the edge of the bed, hanging your head over the side and blinking rapidly to get your eyes to adjust to the darkness. 

Nope. No trancing elf. Just a loose floorboard from the night before. 

You flopped dramatically onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. Couldn’t vampires technically hang from ceilings? Was it possible Astarion had somehow sleep… vampired? And somehow found himself snoozing upside down on the ceiling?

No, that was stupid, of course he wasn’t on the ceiling. Though you did squint and stare above you for longer than you would ever admit to anyone. 

Exhaling quietly, you sat up on your arms to scan the rest of the room before your eyes landed on a silhouette hunched in front of the drawn curtains of the room’s large window. 

Astarion was muttering quietly, his arm bent behind his back. “I… F… or is it an E? Is it even a letter?” You heard him sigh and saw his frame straighten fractionally. “What damn language is this?”

You half smiled affectionately, sitting up fully against the pillows. 

“Need some help writing a sonnet, Volo?” You swung your legs over the side of the bed and turned to face him.

Astarion jumped. “Ah!” You heard a loud crash as you saw his darkened form trip backwards over your discarded backpack.

“Astarion!” you cried, springing up from the bed and joining him on the ground. “Are you alright?” You brushed your knuckles over his cheek as he groaned lowly.

His eyes were shut tight in mild pain, but they opened after a moment to blink up at you. When he saw the concerned look on your face, he sat up quickly and backed away from you until his back made contact with your overturned backpack.

You frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Astarion smiled awkwardly. “Oh nothing, darling.” After a second, he said your name softly. 

You narrowed your eyes and stood up, striking a match and lighting the candle on the table parallel to the bed. “I don’t believe you.”

He was staring at you in a way that gave you the sense he wasn’t listening. 

“Hello?” you asked, snapping your fingers. 

Astarion shook his head, regaining focus. “Apologies, dear, you caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

You crossed your arms and smiled. “That little spill of yours kind of gave that much away.”

Astarion rose to his feet and rubbed his backside. “Yes, well…” He held his upper arm awkwardly and avoided meeting your eye. Your brow furrowed, but he continued talking. “I’ve… been tracing the scars on my back with my fingers, trying to read them by touch, but I can’t. They may as well be written in Rashemi.” 

There was something weird about his body language. Like he was trying to hide something from you, but you decided to focus on what he was telling you. Maybe if he kept talking, you’d figure out what was wrong. 

You stepped closer, pausing when he took another step back. You spoke calmly, “Let me have a look.”

“I-” he sighed. “This isn’t your problem, you know.”

“Like hells, it isn’t,” you scoffed with a smile. “Your problems are my problems now.” You stepped forward again and took his hand. He looked you in the eye before quickly looking away. “I want to help you.” You brushed your nose against his.

A chill ran through his body, and you felt his hand tremble in yours. “Fine.”

Hesitantly, he slowly turned his back towards you. 

It was rare that Astarion would purposely show you his back. You’d run your hands along the ridges of his scars numerous times, but he was reluctant to let you look at the hacked flesh directly. You assumed it was linked to the poorly hidden shame he felt towards his past, but you never looked at the marks with anything but admiration for his bravery and a sign of his survival. 

Now, seeing the scars straight on by the light of the candle, you recognized the runes as a language you’d seen written many times in books and in school growing up; Infernal. The language of the Hells.

From what little you could make out, the language was fragmented and strange. This scar was just a piece of a larger text. 

“And?” Astarion probed, looking over his shoulder at you. “What does it say?” Embarrassment and hopeful curiosity coated his words. 

“Well, it’s certainly not a poem. In fact, from what I can tell, it might be part of a devil’s pact.”

His eyes narrowed. “Infernal pact? But not even the whole text?” He turned back to face you. “What was that bastard up to?” 

“Did you ever see Cazador write in Infernal before?”

Astarion thought for a moment. “No. I could have missed it, of course, but I doubt it. Whatever he’s carved in my flesh, it’s a mystery to me.” When he realized you didn’t have some sort of quip to add, he continued. “Cazador was only figuratively hellish - there were never any devils hanging about the crypt.” 

You snorted. “I wouldn’t think there would be. Though, can you imagine Mizora in a crypt? Or Raphael? He’d probably be repulsed.” 

Astarion stiffened visibly. “Raphael… yes…”

You attempted to get his attention back on you by squeezing his hand. “What about him?”

He looked at you briefly, a slight smirk on his lips. “If anyone’s going to know about infernal contracts, he will.”

“I mean… That makes sense, I guess.”

Astarion pointed towards you excitedly. “I knew you’d see the pragmatic side.”

You tilted your head, thinking. “But Mizora’s kind of all about infernal legalese.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Sure, but Raphael has more panache. And I doubt Wyll would appreciate us summoning his devilish pact-maker.”

“Good point.”

“Unfortunately, Raphael comes and goes on his own schedule, so we’ll just have to look out for any sulfurous odors or the sound of questionable poetry.” 

That got you to smile. He smiled back, and reached out to hold your elbows lightly. ��You will help me, won’t you, darling?”

“Of course I will,” you said, bending up to kiss his cheek. You felt him flinch beneath your lips. “Are you sure everything is alright? You seem awfully on edge.” 

“Me? On edge? Of course not!” His voice pitched up uncharacteristically and broke at the end. “I don’t know why that came out all squeaky because really,” he cleared his throat and lowered his voice comically, “I’m fine.”

You smiled skeptically. “If you say so.”

“Don’t worry about me, dearest,” he released your arms and knelt to go through his own bag. He pulled out a fresh shirt and slipped it over his head. “I think I’ll spend some time this morning studying the art of infernal negotiations.” He kissed you swiftly before pulling away as if you’d shocked him. “I’ll…” you caught him look down at the ring still gracing your left pinky, “see you later.” 

With that, he quickly left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving you with nothing but the sound of Harpers patrolling outside and patrons sitting by the bar.

You exhaled loudly, staring at the door after him. 

Something was definitely wrong. 

Compared to last night, when he was blissed out on your tongue, and kissing your throat with fervent passion, there was no doubt something was bothering him.

But what?

You sat back on the bed, replaying the previous night over in your head. Had you done something wrong? Had you pushed him too hard to do something he didn’t want to do?

No. No, you were fairly certain he had truly enjoyed himself with you. 

But then again, you were very new to sex. And new to Astarion, for that matter. Was it possible he could still pull one over on you, even though you felt like you could read him pretty well by now?

Regardless of whatever was going on with Astarion, it was clear that it had to do with you, based purely on his hesitancy to get close to you just now. 

Sniffing your sleep shirt and feeling suddenly self conscious, you ran a warm bath and scrubbed yourself clean of whatever grime had clung to your body since entering the Shadow Cursed Lands. 

A short time later, you found yourself exiting the bedroom, your hair damp, and fresh clothes gracing your figure. You paused in the doorway, scanning the large, open room that made up most of the first floor. Immediately, your eyes fell on the gaggle of child criminals behind the bar that you’d sicced on Astarion at the Tiefling party.

Smiling to yourself, you took a step towards the bar, only to freeze when you heard the familiarly cool tone of a tiefling wizard. 

“...There’s another bottle of Arabellan dry back there,” Rolan practically spat. “Put it on the bar, then piss off and leave me alone.”

Zaki and Meli, two of the tiefling kids, exchanged glances before Zaki upturned his nose at Rolan.

“Jaheira said we should serve drinks, but that we shouldn't serve drunks.”

Slurring his words mildly, Rolan pointed an accusatory finger at the children. “Jaheira didn’t save your ragged little tail from the cultists. I did.”

You stepped forward and made eye contact with Zaki and Meli who smirked when they recognized you. You winked at them and they nodded before turning their backs on Rolan and focusing their attentions within the bar.

“Given the constant darkness, I know it’s fairly difficult to tell the time, but I’m pretty sure it’s a little too early in the day to get this sloshed.” You took a seat beside Rolan. 

He looked over at you and rolled his eyes. “Oh. It’s you.”

You pursed your lips at his tone and rested your head on your hand. “Hi Rolan.”

“Don’t you get tired of telling people how to live their lives?” He took a big swig from his stein before scowling at you and turning away. “If you’re here to save the day again, you’re a little late this time.”

You sat up straighter, suddenly aware of the absence of Cal and Lia. “What happened? Where’s-”

“Oh, sod off,” he hissed. “I’m only here because you ‘helped’ me and my family.”

“I-”

“I was ready to cut and run back at the Grove, but you had other ideas.” Rolan gestured erratically with his mug and free hand.

You leaned in fractionally, attempting to calm him down enough to tell you what was happening. “Rolan, where-”

“Cal and Lia were taken in by your crap,” he slurred. “You convinced them to play hero, and now they’re gone.” 

You bit your lip and looked around, feeling stupid when you obviously caught no sight of the siblings. “Do you know where they are?”

Rolan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and whipped his head to look at you with a scowl. “Dead, for all I know. Or in the cult’s tower with the others who were taken.”

“Taken,” you repeated, your voice catching in your throat. You looked around frantically, taking note of the tieflings you recognized. Doing a mental headcount, it appeared that the kids were almost accounted for, minus Mol, who you knew was around here somewhere, and Arabella, who was probably with Mol, but there was a distinct lack of adults you’d met back at the Grove. You spotted Alfira sitting alone at the hearth, with Lakrissa nowhere to be seen. Zevlor was also noticeably missing. 

They must have been attacked on their way to Baldur’s Gate and taken to Moonrise. You hoped that was the worst of it, praying silently to whichever god was listening that the tieflings would be okay. 

As your eyes continued to scan the taproom, you spotted Shadowheart, Wyll, Lae’zel, and Karlach talking pointedly with Jaheira over a map spread out over her desk. Their attention was drawn away from the map for a moment when Astarion strode by them with a heavy tome from a wall of books, over to a table where Gale was reading what appeared to be a small book of poetry. It seemed as though Gale had just recently sat down without Astarion’s knowledge, because the vampire gathered up a stack of books resting on the table and rerouted to an empty one out of earshot from the wizard. 

When Astarion caught your eye, he froze momentarily and you sent him a small smile. His eyes flicked between you and Rolan, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. You shook your head minutely, causing him to turn back slowly towards his empty table and dust off the newest book you assumed was full of Infernal translations of some kind. You pretended not to notice him watching you closely.

Rolan, meanwhile, was still brooding over his ale. “Get the bottle,” he nodded at Meli, “give me the bottle - it’s not hard.”

Meli crossed his arms. “I don’t want to.”

“And I don’t want to give you a lashing,” Rolan slurred, “but I will, damn it.”

“Whoa,” you said, holding up both hands, “let’s not resort to threatening kids just because we’re angry.” 

You laid a gentle hand on Rolan’s arm, only for him to shake you off roughly. 

“How dare you tell me - me - how to live my life. After everything I’ve just said.”

Before you had a chance to respond, a flash of silver glinted before your eyes as Astarion slammed a dagger into the wood of the counter between you and Rolan. 

“Is there a problem here?” he asked, sidling up next to you, and helping himself to a bottle of red wine within reach. His books laid abandoned at his empty table not too far off.

“You gonna pay for that?” Zaki asked with a huff.

“Quiet, child whose name I’ve never cared to learn.” You crossed your arms and gave Astarion a look before he rolled his eyes and extended his neck towards you. “She’ll cover it.”

You rolled your eyes in return and reached into your pocket to hand the tiefling a gold piece. 

“I knew I liked you,” Zaki smirked before running off to show the other kids his loot. 

Astarion raised an eyebrow. “Gold, darling? Really?”

“I think we’ll survive,” you said softly before pulling the knife out of the countertop and laying it gently on its side. 

Astarion caught sight of the blade and refocused his attention on the bitter wizard beside him. “As I said, is there a problem here?” His words came out like a growl and his hand flexed as if preparing to strike, before realizing his dagger was on the counter, and instead opted for a swig of his overpriced wine.

“No problem at all,” Rolan said in mock nonchalance. “It’s only that your partner here led my siblings to their doom.” He slammed his mug on the counter, earning a few curious and annoyed looks from other patrons and passing Harpers. 

“Okay good, so no problem then,” Astarion took another swig of his wine.

“Astarion,” you hissed before turning back to Rolan. “We’ll rescue them.”

“If they’re alive,” Astarion muttered. He nearly choked when you forcefully nudged him with your elbow.

“Bullshit,” Rolan snapped. “If they’re alive, I can save them. They’re my responsibility.” He downed the rest of his drink before boldly turning to face you and Astarion head on. He puffed out his chest, attempting to look bigger. “You go save the world, or your own arse, or whatever it is you do.”

“Hey,” Astarion slammed down his own bottle and rose to his full height, “your useless siblings would be lucky to be saved by her.”

“How dare you,” Rolan moved closer to Astarion, but you weaved in-between them before either of them could get their hands on the other. Patrons were starting to stare. You even caught Jaheira turning to give you a curious raise of her eyebrow.

“Both of you, cut it out.” You placed a hand on Astarion’s chest to keep him at bay, and didn’t dare to touch Rolan again. Astarion, in turn, took your hand and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. 

“Listen here, you shoddy excuse of a wizard,” Astarion clutched your hand to his chest and refused to let it go when you attempted to pry it free, “if this woman offers her help, she means it. And based on our numbers, eight, I believe, as opposed to your, what? One?”

“Astarion-”

“I’d say you should take her up on that offer.”

Rolan scoffed. “As if your oafish party could infiltrate Moonrise unnoticed. I’ll have a much easier time sneaking in by myself.”

Astarion laughed airly. “Oh, please, darling, you set one foot outside the protective barrier on this place and the shadows will come for you. You’ll go mad and join your siblings in the great beyond.”

“Astarion, please,” you said sharply and finally pulled your hand free from his grasp.

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Rolan said flatly. He got up to leave, stumbling a bit as he headed in the direction of the entrance.

Astarion crossed his arms with a smug look of triumph on his face. He called after him with the finishing blow: “Do tell the shadows I miss their cold embrace when they swallow you whole.”

The comment made Rolan turn on his heel and march back, sidestepping you and pressing an accusatory finger into Astarion’s chest. “Why is it so important to you whether my family lives or dies? Huh? Do you get some sort of… boon? From whatever devil created a fanged freak like you?”

Your eyes darted back and forth between the tiefling and the vampire, smiling awkwardly at patrons who passed by and shrugging as if to say, “Can you believe these guys?”

Astarion laughed again. “Darling, I couldn’t care less about the fate of you, or any other refugee for that matter.”

A look of confusion passed over Rolan’s face before it morphed back into a scowl. “Then why do you care about this?”

“I don’t.”

“You do!”

You stepped forward, bringing your hands up to try and offer a showing of peace. “Come on, boys. Rolan, we’d be happy to look for your siblings and help however we can. Astarion, why don’t we leave Rolan to think about it for a bit and-”

Rolan shook his head. “Oh no, I’m going after Cal and Lia on my own, and you can’t stop me.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “A mistake.”

“Leave me to my own choices, will you?!”

“Not when your choices are objectively stupid and illogical!” He took a step forward, causing Rolan to take an indignant step back. Astarion smirked and looked down his nose at his opponent. “Which is funny, seeing as how you tote yourself around as if you’re some big wizard prodigy.” He took another step forward and lowered his voice menacingly. “Why don’t you use that brain of yours and stay here, where you can’t bother anybody else?”

This time, Rolan stood his ground and raised his voice. “Why do you care?!”

“Because she cares and I love her!” 

Time froze. 

Astarion was locked in a stare down with Rolan, as if his declaration was the most obvious thing in the world and not something that had just changed everything.

I love her. 

The words replayed your mind like the most beautiful melody you’d ever heard. 

Astarion had a way of doing that; reciting words or sounds or phrases that quickly became your new favorite songs. 

But this time, you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing.

“What?” Your hand reached out and brushed his softly.

Astarion jolted and slowly turned to look at you, sudden panic flashing over his features. “What?”

“You said-”

“Nothing. I said nothing.”

“No, you said-”

He raised his voice to speak over you. “I said something devastating to this wizard, rendering him absolutely shattered, isn’t that right, wizard?” He looked to Rolan for help, but Rolan’s eyes were wide with discomfort.

“Oh, this… was that the first-? While you were yelling at me? Yikes.” He began to back away slowly. 

Astarion lunged forward to grab him, but Rolan’s tipsiness worked to his advantage and somehow allowed him to bob out of the elf’s grasp. 

“Get back here!” Astarion floundered, but you caught him by the wrist. 

“You said you loved me!” You were smiling widely, your heart the fullest it had ever been. 

“No I didn’t!” Astarion snatched his hand out of yours and turned to face you while actively backing away. 

You laughed in thrilled disbelief. “Yes you did!”

“No I didn’t!” He crossed his arms in front of himself as if you were a demon coming to rip his unbeating heart out of his very ribs.

“You love me!”

“No I don’t!” He sounded almost like a child as he insisted he hadn’t just said the three little words you’d been so eager to hear. 

“Astarion, I-”

“Your move, Mol,” a sultry voice reached your ears, somehow piercing through your train of thought and what you had been about to confess. You scrunched your nose at the suddenly overpowering scent of cherries masking a fouler stench of sulfur. 

Astarion was frozen leaning away from you, but his eyes shifted towards the voice and then back to you before he darted in Raphael’s direction. 

“Astarion!” you called after him, hot on his heels.

He barely turned to respond. “Can’t hear you darling, important business must be attended to!”

“This is important business!” you countered.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, dearest!” He came to a halt in a smaller room connected to the large tap room. You stopped short behind him, nearly slamming into his back. 

Immediately you spied Raphael sitting elegantly in front of a game of lanceboard. Mol was sitting opposite from him, squinting at the pieces and analyzing her current position. 

“You trapped me,” she said, annoyed. “I didn’t even want to take this one.”

“Calimshan rules, dear,” Raphael explained, and Astarion groaned quietly next to you. “The first piece touched is the first piece moved.”

“Boring,” Astarion muttered.

Mol huffed. “That’s garbage! No matter where the knight goes, I’m gonna lose it.”

Raphael’s tone became more stern when he instructed, “Then make the sacrifice useful. Guard your Mystra, or come for my Cyric.” 

“We should really talk,” you murmured to Astarion, who cleared his throat and drew Raphael and Mol’s attention to you instead.

Mol’s face instantly lit up when she saw you. “Look who made it! For once I saved your butt out there with Jaheira, didn’t I?” 

You returned her smile, stepping closer and pretending to punch her upper arm playfully. “You sure did. Can’t thank you enough for that, Mol.”

She gave you a smug sideways smirk. “We’re square now, chief.”

“I guess we are,” you laughed. 

“Say,” she said, “do you play lanceboard by any chance? It’s my first time playing.” 

Judging by the mischievous glint in her eye, you immediately clocked that she was lying to throw off Raphael. 

“Oh, he’s laid a fine trap for you, Mol,” came Gale’s voice over your right shoulder. 

“Where did you come from?” Astarion yelped and clutched his chest from his spot on your left.

Gale opted to ignore Astarion’s dramatic display and continued, “But it looks to me like his Cyric could be dethroned.”

You nodded, thinking back to several lanceboard games you’d played with Gale over the course of this journey. You lowered your voice and nodded at the pieces in front of Mol. “Gale’s right. Put pressure on him. Attack the pieces in front of his Cyric.” 

Mol gave you and Gale an impish grin before following through with the move you both recommended. She looked immensely satisfied when she knocked the piece guarding Raphael’s God of Lies from the board. 

Raphael raised his eyebrows, looking both proud and surprised. “My, the Theskan Double Counter-gambit. Vicious.” He chuckled darkly. “Exactly what I would have done.” 

With another self satisfied smirk, Mol removed Raphael’s Cyric from the board completely. “How’s that for Calimshan rules?”

“Brava!” Raphael said, spreading his arms out wide. “Lovely work. I see I was right to make you the offer I did.” 

Your stomach dropped. “Wait, what?”

Raphael didn’t take his eyes off Mol. “You will consider it, won’t you?”

Without another word, Mol got up and you watched as she returned to the other tiefling kids behind the bar.

“What a lovely specimen she is,” Raphael said as your eyes followed her. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you turned to look back at him. 

He was standing now. “A blushing apple, begging to be plucked.” He mimed the action of pulling an apple from its spot on a branch, his eyebrows furrowed to accompany his conniving smile. 

You stepped to the side, attempting to block Mol from his view. “Leave her alone, Raphael.”

He ignored your warning and changed the subject. “The Theskan move suggestion was inspired. I had no idea you played.”

Gale chuckled. “I’ve been known to dabble.”

“He’s not talking to you, purple,” Astarion spat the last word as if it were an insult. 

Gale stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Purple has always suited me rather nicely, thank you.”

“Why are you here, Raphael?” you asked. “To play games?”

Raphael’s expression became almost unreadable. “To play the game. The vast lanceboard of souls.”

“Well that doesn’t sound legally sanctioned by the Lanceboard Committee of Baldur’s Gate,” Gale muttered. 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “I wish you would explode.”

Raphael continued, this time his voice was overly saccharine. “Don’t you worry about Mol. It goes without saying she still has the unconditional freedom to choose the only option she has left.” 

Gale leaned over to you and whispered, “Ominous, that.”

“Quiet,” Astarion hissed, causing Raphael’s attention to turn on him. 

“Now,” Raphael said, placing a hand on his hip and pointing a lazy finger at Astarion, “let’s talk about you. I sense there’s something you want to ask me.”

“I do,” Astarion said, hunching forward as if to make himself smaller, “I have a… proposal… for you.” When you turned to glance at him with wide eyes, he corrected himself. “A proposition! A request. A… deal, I suppose, for lack of a better term.”

“A proposal,” Raphael’s eyes shifted between you two, probably knowing the exact tension that was occurring between the two of you right now. 

It wouldn’t surprise you. 

He chuckled, but didn’t press further. “If you’re hoping to taste my blood, little vampling, think again. It burns hotter than Wyvern Whiskey.”

“This is serious business,” Astarion tried to sound firm before adding, “devil.”

Raphael smirked at him, but inclined his head to encourage Astarion to continue. 

“My old - well… A long time ago, someone carved infernal runes into my back,” Astarion explained. “They are a fragment of a contract. I’d like to know what the full contract says.” 

“Hmmmmm…” Raphael dragged out the sound far longer than necessary. 

Astarion straightened himself, attempting to look bravely back at the devil, but you saw the way he absently tapped his finger against his thigh. The way he blinked a little more frequently than normal.

You turned to Raphael, annoyed. “Don’t play games, Raphael. Help him out.”

“Oh, such impatience,” Raphael said sarcastically. When neither you nor Astarion took the bait to squabble with him, he continued. “It’s something very important to your master. But is it a love letter?” He looked pointedly at you and you did your best to keep your expression even. “A warning, perhaps? Or a deed of ownership? I could give you all the gory details.”

“So do it,” you growled, feeling extremely protective of the man to your left who’d just bared part of his soul to this devil. And Gale.

“Ah ah ah,” Raphael tsked. “You’ll have to do something for me first. Let me think about it and get back to you.”

Astarion stammered and held his arms out dramatically. “You’ll ‘get back’ to me? This is important, devil!” After a moment, he sighed. “When?”

“Don’t worry,” Raphael said, the cunning smile refusing to leave his face, “I’m motivated to help you. Scars often tell such wonderful stories - I think yours might be truly exquisite.” 

Before you could interrogate him any further, Raphael vanished in a sour smelling puff of smoke.

“Good gracious, that’s foul,” Gale plugged his nose and waved his hand in front of his face.

You coughed repeatedly, shutting your eyes tight to make sure whatever residue Raphael left behind didn’t blur your vision. When you opened them again, you saw Astarion hightailing it out of the small room and across the taproom.

“Astarion!” you called. “Get back here, you heathen!”

As Astarion went to open one of the side doors of the inn to escape speaking with you, he slammed face first into Halsin’s chest.

“Oh!” Halsin exclaimed and peeled the vampire off of his tunic. “My apologies, Astarion, I was just coming inside to check on things with Moonrise Towers.”

Astarion held a hand to his forehead. “It’s like you’re made of cement.”

You caught up with him and witnessed him slump significantly. 

“Oh, hello, darling.” His tone was jovial, but his expression was one of disappointment at having been caught so easily. 

You placed your hands on your hips. “We need to talk.”

“News of Moonrise?” Halsin asked.

“No, the others are discussing that with Jaheira over there.” You pointed your thumb over your shoulder towards Jaheira’s desk, where your companions were still listening to her and hunching over a map. “No, I need to speak with Astarion in private-”

“Excellent reminder, darling,” Astarion said, straightening up and walking past you, over to Jaheira and the others. “We simply must plan out our next move!”

You turned to watch him go and stood next to Halsin, sighing heavily and pinching the bridge of your nose.

Halsin laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Everything alright? I hope nothing troubles the ever growing bond between you two?”

You began walking with him over to Jaheira’s desk. “He’s just being an idiot. He told me something very interesting and I want to talk to him about it more in depth.”

Halsin nodded. “You heard about the night he ran into me in bear form.”

“No, he-” You stopped short and looked at Halsin. “What?”

“There’s the fearless leader these cubs won’t stop talking about,” Jaheira said loudly, causing you to turn away from Halsin and finish taking the last few steps over to her desk. 

You approached Astarion, who stared blankly ahead and made no attempt at hiding the large step he took away from you. You rolled your eyes and stepped forward to stand between Karlach and Shadowheart, observing the map in front of you. 

“You all have been talking for quite a bit.” You noticed different markings on the map, suggesting different routes to take towards Moonrise. “Have you figured anything out?”

Wyll crossed his arms and blew out a breath. “Only that our opponent seems to be invincible, according to Jaheira.”

“So says she,” Lae’zel placed her hands on her hips and repositioned her feet to stand tall. “She has no idea how lethal we are.”

“Ketheric was a Sharran,” Shadowheart said quietly, lost in thought. “He was building an army of Dark Justiciars beneath this village.” She turned her head to look at you. “I knew my Lady Shar’s influence here was all consuming, but… Dark Justiciars?” Her voice took on a dreamlike quality, “Only the very finest proved themselves worthy of the title. They’ve been silent for years but… an entire army? That must have been a fearsome sight.”

“Yes…” Jaheira side-eyed Shadowheart skeptically. She looked at you and said, “To bring you up to speed, General Ketheric Thorm, the Absolutist leader at Moonrise is a formidable foe that myself, my Harpers, and local druids saw to depose - we witnessed him dead and buried. But he’s returned. Not only does he live again, it seems he is no longer mortal. He has become, as Wyll said, invincible.”

“Chk,” Lae’zel rolled her eyes.

“I don’t fancy his chances,” Gale joked as he integrated himself into the group, causing Astarion to jump again.

“So help me gods, you must stop doing that.”

“Supposedly, the Harpers met Ketheric on the road commanding an army of Absolutists, intent on destroying Baldur’s Gate.” Karlach half smiled, proud to be relaying a new Jaheira tale to you. “Jaheira here saw to putting a fucking arrow through his fucking eye, only to watch the bastard pluck it out.”

“‘Like a splinter,’ in her words,” Wyll added helpfully.

Halsin whistled lowly. “Sounds like quite the nasty rival.”

Jaheira nodded. “He healed right in front of me, and chased us into the shadows. Things looked hopeless, but experience has taught me that no matter how bleak things look, there’s always hope.”

“Damn right,” Karlach grinned. 

Jaheira smiled at the tiefling, then looked around at your entire party. “You are that hope.”

Astarion gagged and rolled his eyes, earning an elbow in the side from Karlach.

“We’ll try our best,” you said.

“I was telling your companions here that while protected by your artifact,” Jaheira went on, “you can infiltrate his forces at Moonrise Towers, posing as True Souls.”

“A risky, but clever move,” Lae’zel smirked. “I like it.”

“If we can find out what makes him invincible,” Wyll said, “perhaps we can strip him of his advantage.”

Jaheira nodded. “Together, we assault his tower and put a final end to this blight.”

Astarion sniffed pompously. “You want to make use of our infection.” He placed a hand on his hip and gestured around with his free hand, “Some of us, not necessarily me, of course, I’m rather enjoying the sun when it’s not currently being banished by the Mistress of the Night-”

“Watch it,” Shadowheart warned through gritted teeth.

“Some of us,” Astarion continued, “want to be cured of it.” 

Jaheira watched him carefully. “Any cure starts with understanding the disease. Whatever magic Ketheric’s using to control these tadpoles, it must be at Moonrise.”

“Well,” Gale clapped his hands together, “sounds like we should get a move on if we plan on finding that cure any time soon.”

Jaheira looked to you. “I’ve already shared what I believe to be the best route to the Towers with your friends here.” She nodded her head towards Wyll, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Lae’zel. 

“Thank you,” you said. “Ketheric’s days are numbered - I’ll make sure of it.”

The Harper met you with a sad smile. “Without a cure for your infection, your days are numbered, yet you selflessly offer to spend them fighting alongside us. I like you.”

“Isn’t she the best?” Karlach clapped you on the shoulder, grinning, before clearing her throat. “I- I mean after you, of course.” She smiled awkwardly at Jaheira. 

Jaheira laughed, then addressed all of you: “I promise I will do everything I can to make sure you survive this.” 

Your companions offered their thanks, accompanied by a dramatic eye roll from Astarion. 

“Before you go,” Jaheira said, “there’s someone else you should meet.”

“Gods,” Astarion muttered, “we’re going to be stuck here forever if we keep yammering instead of doing.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaheira raised an eyebrow, “do you wish to be consumed by shadow?”

“If we have a choice,” Wyll said, “I’d prefer not to.”

“Good man,” she smiled at the warlock before looking around at everyone again. “You’re not our only secret weapon.” She rolled up the map laid before you all and handed it off to Wyll. “Isobel - a faithful cleric of Selûne, and a light in the darkness.” 

“Selûne?” Shadowheart wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Why would a servant to the Moonmaiden be all the way out here?”

“You’re lucky she is,” Jaheira gave Shadowheart a look, as if daring her to make another comment on the matter. “She cast the moon shield around the inn. It’s the only reason we’re still alive.” She moved to her right to point at a set of stairs in the small room off the taproom where you’d been speaking to Raphael. “She’s upstairs in her chambers. Tell her I sent you and she’ll see you through the shadows safely.” 

“We already have a lantern that protects us.” Shadowheart crossed her arms. 

“And I’m sure it’s very fine,” Jaheira said. “But lanterns have a tricky habit of going out when you need them.” When Shadowheart didn’t respond, Jaheira added, “Let’s not spurn what few gifts the gods choose to give us, hm?”

You had a feeling the “gods” she was referring to wasn’t the one Shadowheart had pledged her life to. 

“Well I, for one, can’t wait to see what this Isobel has to show us!” Astarion said, suddenly cheerful, and booking it up the stairs. 

Your party watched him go.

“What’s with him?” Karlach asked. 

“Very hot and cold, no?” Gale agreed. “I mean, more so than usual.”

“He’s being an idiot about something he said,” you sighed. “And it didn’t have anything to do with bears,” you pointed at Halsin before he could say anything. 

He simply smiled and shrugged, and followed everyone up the stairs.

“Sounds about right,” Shadowheart said. 

Lae’zel narrowed her eyes. “When has Astarion ever spoken about bears?” 

“He got drunk on one once,” you laughed. “But it wasn’t about that.”

“What was it about, then?” Wyll asked. “We’ve all said silly things we regret.”

“This wasn’t some silly thing, though” you clarified. “It was kind of important.”

Astarion ran out of a room beyond the balcony looking down into the taproom. “Would you all hurry up? I think I found her.”

You approached him as quickly as you could, trying to catch him off guard and reaching for his hand, but he dodged you and slipped back into the room. 

“Astarion!” you called and sped up even more to follow after him. 

You and the rest of the party entered into a large room - sectioned off to your right was a wall with two large doorways that lead into what appeared to be a study, complete with looming bookcases, a desk, and a fireplace. The rest of the room appeared to be a bedroom, based on the large bed with its headboard resting against the back wall, and a number of wardrobes. A large door that you assumed led outside stood next to the bed.

“Fancy digs,” Karlach murmured. 

You paused when Astarion thrust open the balcony door and revealed a woman with short white hair muttering incantations under her breath, surrounded by candles and white light.

“Now there’s a cleric of Selûne if I’ve ever seen one,” Gale said.

“And just how many of those have you come across?” Shadowheart sniffed.

“Quite a lot in my studies, actually. I’ve read about this one cleric of Selûne who-”

“Stop speaking,” Lae’zel hissed as you and your party made their way onto the balcony with Isobel. 

An orb of light appeared in Isobel’s hand and she spun her hands around it, making it grow bigger and brighter with moon magic. High above your heads, a full moon somehow shown down on you, despite Shar’s curse. The eight of you remained silent as she thrust the orb upwards where it met the barrier of the moonshield and reinforced the entire thing with a burst of light. 

Isobel looked up to admire her work before coughing weakly and turning around to face you all. “I didn’t realize I had an audience.”

“Really?” Astarion crossed his arms. “I mean, with me, I can understand, but they sound like a stampede of wild gnolls.” He gestured to the rest of you. 

Isobel gave him an amused half smile. “Please,” she extended a hand back into her room, “join me inside.” 

You purposely let the others go ahead of you and grabbed Astarion’s wrist before he could slip past you again. “I have things I need to say to you,” you said quietly.

“Perhaps later,” he responded, pulling his arm from your grasp and nearly tripping back into Isobel’s chambers. 

You rolled your eyes and followed him in, only to be addressed directly by Isobel herself.

“The True Soul who’s come to save us all.” She looked you up and down and smiled. “I’m Isobel. Pleased to meet you.” She finished with a small bow.

“And you,” you returned her bow and saw Karlach mimic it out of the corner of your eye. “We’ve been told you’re the protector of this inn - the banisher of shadows.” You wiggled your fingers as if telling small children about the boogeyman.

Isobel laughed lightly. “Myself and Our Lady are doing what we can to hold the line. I hear you and your tadpole will be our offense.” 

“Show us what to slay and it shall be done,” Lae’zel offered matter-of-factly.

Isobel scanned your group thoughtfully, the black paint around her eyes making her irises look piercingly blue. “All of you… free from the Absolute’s influence, yet able to walk among cultists. It’s almost too good to be true.”

“Uh, that it is,” Halsin said. “I, myself, remain tadpole free. Though I seek to help rid this land of the shadows that dwell here.”

“Then Our Lady thanks you most graciously,” Isobel nodded towards Halsin and he looked pleased by her approval. She turned back to you. “I’d be a poor cleric indeed not to avail of a blessing when I see one.” 

“Hear that?” Karlach nudged Wyll. “We’re a blessing.”

“We’ll certainly try to earn the praise,” Wyll chuckled. 

“Let me guess,” Isobel raised her eyebrows, assessing your group again, “Jaheira sent you all to beg a protection spell off her favorite cleric.” 

“You got it,” Gale confirmed. 

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Karlach added.

“With pleasure,” Isobel laughed. 

She closed her eyes as a golden column of light overtook her entire being. Lifting an arm above her head, her entire body turned gold until the light concentrated into only the hand she had raised in the air. She brought it down and held it in front of you, palm facing outwards. 

Suddenly, you were all surrounded by the same column of golden light that enveloped Isobel, and a warm calmness overtook your senses. 

Suddenly you knew that the shadows would subside and that you all would be bathed in the peaceful light of the moon once again.

Suddenly, it felt like everything was going to be okay. 

“Tingly,” you remarked.

“Perfect,” Isobel smiled. “That spell will make you immune to the lesser effects of the shadow curse, which will get you closer to the towers.”

“Thank you,” you said, observing your limbs and noticing how they now vaguely glowed with moon magic. Your companions seemed to be doing the same.

“But,” Isobel continued, “there are places it won’t help - places where the curse is darker. Stronger.” 

“And we will destroy these stronger shadows,” Lae’zel lifted her head confidently. 

Isobel exhaled slowly. “The cultists are able to traverse even the deepest shadows, though. I don’t know how - the Harpers are trying to figure it out.”

Shadowheart, who seemed to be more interested in the glowing of her limbs than the rest of you, looked up at Isobel with a scowl. “Selûnite magic. Dark Lady forgive me.”

“Good nose,” Isobel said sarcastically. “Like a nasty little terrier.”

Lae’zel snorted. “She already proclaimed herself to be a follower of Selûne. Were you not listening?”

Shadowheart shot her a glare. 

“Well, this has been lovely,” Astarion said, making his way to the door leading back into the inn proper. “Anything else we should know before we head off to save the day?” He was already halfway out the door, not bothering to wait for an answer, clearly trying to make a stealthy exit. 

You eyed Halsin, who nodded and retrieved the rogue by his arm before he could leave, closing the door behind both of them for good measure.

“Let me go, you humongous imbecile!” Astarion pounded his free arm against Halsin’s chest before Halsin released him and refused to let him move a muscle towards the door. Astarion huffed and crossed his arms, turning his nose up at the rest of you.

“Is he okay?” Isobel asked. 

“This is relatively normal behavior from him, actually,” Karlach said. 

“But please,” you waved a hand in front of yourself, “is there anything else we should know?”

Isobel thought for a moment. “Ketheric is a frightening man. But you have something he doesn’t: allies worth having.” 

You felt a wave of pride wash over you and your companions. 

“Daw,” Karlach kicked at the floorboard under her feet. “That’s very sweet.”

Isobel gave her a small smile. “While you’re all busy at the towers, I’ll be sure to-” 

She froze. 

“Wait. Do you hear that?”

The eight of you strained to hear what she could be referring to. 

Astarion clicked his tongue loudly. “I don’t hear-”

Isobel interrupted him. “Something’s wrong.”

That’s when you finally heard it: The beating of wings followed by a man landing hard on Isobel’s balcony. He wore the uniform of a Flaming Fist, and the way his wings moved seemed new and unnatural. He stood and retracted the black, feathery abominations, before exhaling and walking into the room. 

“Hello, Isobel.”

“Marcus,” Isobel breathed, “is that you? What’s happened to you?”

Halsin leaned forward. “I take it, you know this man?”

“I’ve been blessed,” Marcus said before Isobel could answer. “You can be, too. Come with me and you can hear all about it from Ketheric himself.”

“Isobel,” you said, not taking your eyes off Marcus, “who is this man?”

“He’s a Flaming Fist!” she exclaimed. “Or was. He came with the others when we created this haven.” 

“There are more Fists here?” Wyll muttered. 

Marcus addressed Isobel, “And I thank you for your hospitality.” Then he turned towards you.

You felt the familiar squirm of your tadpole being probed. Much to your dismay, Marcus’s voice rang out inside your head. 

“True Soul, my instructions are clear: take the girl to Ketheric.”

You wrinkled your nose, hating the sensation of his unwanted presence in your brain. In an act of defiance, you needled further into his own mind. 

A haunting face swam into your mind’s eye, its instructions vivid: “nothing is more important than bringing the girl - alive.”

Isobel must have seen the sour expression on your face because she turned towards Marcus aggressively. “What’s going on? If you have something to say, say it.”

“Marcus is trying to kidnap you, Isobel” you narrowed your eyes at the Fist. You looked back at your party, all of whom were already getting into battle positions. You turned to Marcus and took one step forward, bending your knees and dropping into a fighting stance. “Looks like we’re going to have to fight our way out of this one.”

Isobel’s eyes went wide.

“Pathetic,” Marcus spat. “The Absolute sees all - your treachery will be punished!” 

“The Absolute,” Isobel repeated before scowling. “Of course.” She gave Marcus a pleading look when she said, “You can’t believe them, Marcus. Ketheric will never give you whatever it is you’ve been promised.”

Marcus chuckled darkly and spread his hideous wings. “He already has.” He looked at her dead in the eyes. “Time to go, Isobel.”

With that, he reared backwards and roared loudly, far louder than any human of his size should be able to manage. You all stood in horror as you heard screeches and roars from Winged Horrors that flew abruptly into the inn and Isobel’s room. Already, you could hear shouting and screams from down below.

Isobel lifted a hand into the air. “Moonmaiden, guide my hand!”

Before she could cast anything, Marcus let out another piercing roar, knocking you all off guard.

Gale, who’d been standing out of his range, ran forward, a spell already prepped in his hand. When his touch connected with Isobel, she vanished; invisible.

“Good thinking, Gale!” you shouted, pulling your lute off your back and strumming some inspiration in his direction. 

Karlach and Lazel were already knocking back the Winged Horrors with their weapons, while Wyll thrust his rapier towards Marcus. Halsin shifted into bear form and growled at the Fist before taking a slash at him. Shadowheart summoned a circle of Spirit Guardians and rushed into the fray.

“We need to check on the others!” you shouted above the din of the battle. “I think they’ve got it covered in here!”

Astarion twirled a dagger in his hand. “Excellent idea, my darling,” he smirked before thrusting open the doors out into the inn.

To your shock and horror, you both found Raphael standing there, nonchalantly checking his nails. 

“Ah!” he said with fake surprise when he finally acknowledged you both standing there. “Just the lovebirds I was looking for. Remember that favor I mentioned earlier?”

“Right now?!” you cried in disbelief, gesturing to the chaos around you. You witnessed Jaheira shift into a jaguar and swat a Winged Horror out of the air. 

Raphael chuckled. “Oh, I think right now is the perfect time.” He raised his hand.

You and Astarion exchanged frantic glances.

“Wait!” Astarion shouted.

Raphael snapped his fingers.

And everything went black.

[verystrxxwberry]

Hi, Alex! What about some wedding headcanons with Eldarya boys, please? Thank you!

ELDARYA; wedding headcanons! ♡

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Individual headcanons, reader x route (both TO and ANE), sfw. ↝ 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I didn’t really have much inspiration to write these headcanons, but I did my best effort! I hope you all enjoy it. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

EZAREL

Seeing you kneeling in front of him confused him. Were you going to tie his shoelaces? But he had boots on, you didn't have to. Wait, were you planning to...? Ah, no, you didn't. You just pulled out a little box... “Would you like to be my husband, Ezarel?” you asked, opening the box and exposing a small golden ring inside. A ring...? Ezarel had a hard time processing your question, the meaning of each one of the words and the connection they had in the sentence. He was in shock, unable to speak for several minutes until he was able to blink and think coherently.

He felt like saying no just to annoy you, but he nodded, “wow, wait... are you sure? I've never been married before...”

“Uh... neither have I, that's why I want to marry you,” you laughed a little at his nervousness, “so… what’s the answer? Do you want to be my husband?” The elf sighed, eyes slightly glazed over and kneeling down in front of you to hug you.

“Of course I do, yes, yes, and yes,” he murmurs, filling your neck with little kisses. He would forget to put on the ring and look at you confused when you put it on, “what are you doing?” to him, you two were already married.

Ezarel doesn't know how to help with the wedding preparations, so he leaves the responsibility to Keroshane. He's fine with it all, but he'd even think it's perfect if there are a lot of sweets at the banquet.

When the day arrives, Ezarel is very nervous, his hands sweaty and his eyes shining with constant excitement. It's adorable to see the elf so vulnerable for his wedding day. He would be constantly adjusting his suit, looking in the reflections to fix his hair and look decent.

Many times in the past Ezarel commented that weddings were tiring for him since it was so time-consuming. But the time passed quickly at his wedding, and he certainly enjoyed it as he had never enjoyed any event before.

You, Valkyon, Nevra and Ezarel would be sitting in a circle of chairs while everyone seemed to get carried away for a night, talking, gossiping and having a good time. Ezarel would have cried from the excitement, and only the three of you knew how to comfort him. The elf was so clingy! He didn't leave your side all night. 

He seemed to be constantly on the verge of tears, but it was simply the bliss of the moment. His head would constantly be resting on your shoulder while he seemed to be much more joking and relaxed than usual.

NEVRA

Never ever expected to marry someone. No one expected him to take that big step on his life and compromise himself with someone, but there he was! More than willing to be your husband. 

You didn’t even expect he’d be the one getting on his knees and giving the most precious speech you’ve ever heard before. Tears blurred your vision, but you still nodded your head. Nevra was so glad you had agreed to take that step with him. You wanted to keep it a secret from Karenn, but she ended up finding out because she insisted so much; she knew you two had a plan in mind! And when she found out, she cried a lot with emotion.

And for a year, you were organizing things, in fact, Nevra put so much attention and care into the wedding that he planned things while he was still at work, completely focused on it, as it was more important than work at that moment. He did a great combo of purple, yellow and red lights that made the environment truly romantic! He made sure the environment could keep the romantic vibes he wished to give.

It would be celebrated on the hundred years cherry tree area. He ordered a certain pattern of lights around the area, relighting the lights around the tree and causing a beautiful lighting effect since the wedding would be at dusk.

The day came, and you found yourself in front of Nevra. His trembling hands held yours gently, his voice sounded firm as he swore an oath to love you until death do you part.

As he made his emotional speech once again, you heard Karenn sobbing in the background. She was crying more than you both together.

You could see that Nevra was completely relaxed, with a smile all the time on his face. Karenn hugged you both very affectionately after the ceremony, weeping like a baby.

The party began and Nevra would lead you to a slow dance under the warm lights, taking your waist with certain firmness and gentleness while his other hand intertwined his fingers with you. Everyone was enjoying themselves, some conversing at the table dinner, others drinking and dancing around you; but it still felt like the two of you were alone. After all, it was your day. Although his voice was low, the closeness between you allowed you to hear him more than the music itself. He would tell you nice things about how he had never imagined himself at that moment, how he doubted he would be a good husband; but that he would do his best to keep things going as smoothly as ever.

He planned a surprise trip to other safe regions on Eldarya for your honeymoon. -And pray to not get pregnant during the honeymoon, because it is most likely to happen by accident!-

If we are talking in terms of A new era context… imagine you sent a letter to Ezarel to update him about the news and inviting him to the wedding. His presence would be an absolute surprise! And Nevra would hug him so tightly it’d seem that the wedding was between Nevra and Ezarel. It’d be so cute!

VALKYON

Accidentally proposed the same day. Yes, as you read. In different situations, you had discussed what a married life would be like, and you both seemed attracted to the idea of getting married. Therefore, you planned to propose on the day of your anniversary. But you were surprised to see how Valkyon went ahead and in the middle of dinner took out a box, opening it to show you the ring. “Valkyon...” you mused and also took out the box, showing him a similar ring, ”I was also going to propose to you today...”

You both looked at each other puzzled before you both started laughing out loud. That was already an automatic yes from both parties, so that was a relief.

Very lost with the wedding preparations....but still, supports your ideas! Want him to wear a princess dress? Ok. Want to eat some nachos for the banquet? That’s cool. Want to throw a bucket of water to him to celebrate it? Alright, as you want, dear.

Wants to see you dressed for the wedding before the wedding. Although that would cause him to stay up all night thinking about how good it looks on you, and my goodness, he's so in love.

They had to change his suit because the first one was so tight that his pecs were almost waving at you, and he didn't want to look obscene at the wedding. After the wedding it’s ok, he can be obscene…, but by the gods, there would be kids during it!

You wouldn't complain about seeing him with a chest window though.

Anyway, you'd see him with his hair pulled back in a low ponytail, and it looks great on him! The ceremony was fantastic and warm, everyone was so happy to see you two start a new stage in your lives.

When he sees you dressed for the wedding he repeats countless times how beautiful you look. And he really cannot take his eyes from you.

He would save time during the night to thank the guests for coming, especially the older creatures! And he would spend some time playing with the little ones.

Valkyon would end up drunk from trying every shot, glass and tankard of beer.... Forgive him, because from that moment on he would be more clingy and cheerful, open to board games with you and other creatures. He would have his hand constantly on your knee, since he was afraid to let you out of his sight.

He would let himself be free and end up unbuttoning a few buttons on his shirt, undoing his tie a bit and letting his hair down. He looked gorgeous, and it was almost mesmerizing how handsome your husband was.

That night was also truly special. So truly special and intense that next morning he was completely dead (not literally -heh-), needing almost all the day to rest. The same goes for you though.

LEIFTAN

No doubt Leiftan has thought on more than one occasion about marrying you and starting a family with you. It seems to him the strongest connection there could be. And over the years of your relationship he realized that he wanted to make that wish come true, but he was too shy to take the initiative. He was afraid, what if it wasn't your ideal life? Maybe he would have to settle for not formally marrying you and just being your boyfriend.

As usual, Leiftan took you on a date with him to an extensive secluded garden, where he liked to take you for picnics. While he kept busy making a flower crown, you plucked up the courage to take the big step. You caught his attention and began to recite some beautiful and sentimental words to him, stuttering a bit from nerves, which made you embarrassed... but it's Leiftan, c’mon, he more than anyone else knows how to be patient and bring confidence when you are nervous. He doesn't judge you for stuttering.

In fact, your words are so nice that he starts sobbing as if you were giving him the worst news in the world. Forgive him... he's really very happy! He will finally accomplish one of his goals in life. He didn't know what he had done to deserve that you wanted to have him as your husband, but without a doubt his answer was a huge yes. With trembling hands he grabbed you by the cheeks and pressed a kiss against your lips full of love and emotion.

Participate in the organization of the wedding 100%! In fact, he is in charge of most of the lighting, decoration and banquet. He would prepare sweets for the banquet himself.

It’d be more a dinner than a party, as Leiftan enjoys quiet environments where everyone can talk together and have fun without the need of overwhelming stimulations.

There won’t be much people as he prefers to have a comfortable and more relaxed ceremony, where your closest friends and family could go.

The fact that he is getting married is already overwhelming enough!

The ceremony is beautiful and quite traditional, although Leiftan ordered the playing of instruments such as piano and violin to make the scene much more special for the two of you. As the classical music played in the background, Leiftan held back tears like he had never cried before. You looked beautiful in your wedding outfit! And just as you arrived on the stage, he let you know it, with some admiration, desire and no doubt, a lot of love.

He searched and prepared a honeymoon in a cozy and warm place where you could constantly get massages, go to dates in open spaces and warm baths!

LANCE

A strange concept he never thought about, as he’d never thought he’d get to marry anyone. There was a serious conversation once. You two deeply thought about your future plans, and he asked you if you wanted to ever marry him. You said yes, which made him very confused, and he overthought a lot of the reasons for that to be your choice. It had no logic…

He consulted secretly with almost everyone in the guards. “Hey, in case you want to get married, how would you propose it? Oh, and do you think ____ would like to marry me?” Everybody told him literally yes, but he kept thinking you would say no.

It was thanks to Mathieu's insistence and his words straight out of a fantasy love novel that slightly motivated him to take the big step.

And it took years for him to take some bravery to ask it.

He won’t get on his knees because he wants to make it subtle. He’d ask you to go for a walk and then, as you two are pretty far from anyone, he’ll start his proposal.

When you said yes, Lance sighed in relief as if there was a chance for you to say no. You won’t see it but that night he kicked his feet like a happy, in love teen.

He tries to help with the wedding preparation, but it’s a little bit messy or simple… yet he contributes a lot with the money. He spends the whole time until the wedding having a little crisis every day from how life will change, how he is terrified of not being a good husband…

Whatever, the day comes, and he is so tense that you even wonder if he is enjoying himself. You gave him your hand, and he spent the whole day seeking your hand as a way to be less nervous. And it worked!

He doesn’t think that many people would agree to come to the wedding, but for his surprise, lots of people came (for his perspective though, it was actually a small wedding because he didn’t want a very big party). He prefers the ceremony short and to the point so you all can go to have dinner. He gets very congratulated by everyone and that only serves to make him proud, happy and feeling so damn lucky to have you.

Eats a lot during that night, but like a LOT.

He gets emotional at some point, sad that his brother can't see any of what's going on. It occurred to you to encourage him, telling him that from wherever he was, he would be watching you and encouraging you to continue with a happy life. You were sure Valkyon would be proud of the change Lance made and of finally getting someone to call him husband and make it official.

He hugs you and starts muttering how much he loves you and how grateful he is to have married to you. He was absolutely in love with you. And that night he filled you with that love, making sure you knew how deep his feelings are!

MATHIEU

It was proposed by accident. Literally, of all the places he could hide the box with the ring, he hid it behind a pillar of books on the desk. As you were tidying up your space you saw it, and began to laugh at how clumsy your boyfriend could be. But clearly the thought of him proposing got you excited.

You started giving him more hints over the next few days about wanting to get married. You saw him turn red with embarrassment, as well as nervous and somewhat awkward. His nervous smile and stuttering were adorable.

One day he was very frustrated, he had lost something very important. You saw him on the verge of tears, and because he refused to let you help him, you decided to help him lol. You knew where the box was, although he seemed to have forgotten... how clumsy. When he saw you pick up the box, he became very nervous, asking you, “Do you know what it is?”

You could no longer pretend and nodded your head, “of course I know, silly,” you humorously handed it to him, “but aren’t you planning to get down on your knees?”

Oh, he immediately did! He opened the box and showed you the ring, “so… you know the question, right?” his smiled didn’t fail to show his excitement. And it increased when the answer to the most awaited question was a yes- you wanted to marry him!

He would love to have a themed wedding. No need for everything to be so formal, guests could go in costume and make it a really fun wedding! However, the tradition of doing something formal was there, and he decided to adapt to having a formal wedding... and the next day a themed party with the guests!

The day came, and he was panicking a lot, Lance had to calm him down to not be so anxious during the ceremony. He almost puked last day’s dinner…

So excited he invites everyone he sees. So you might find creatures you didn’t know about invited by Mathieu since they were kind to him… a little bit risky, yes. But he’s just like that from the excitement.

Mesmerized about how you look. And he definitely started sobbing when he saw you walking towards him, a liquid snoot threatening at the edge of his nose… yeah, he was a little bit messy, but he was as adorable anyway. Lance gave him a tissue to clean himself because it’d be unacceptable to be filled of snots and tears when it is time to kiss you!

He fills your face with kisses when he gets the chance to kiss you after the beautiful speech and all of that. Mathieu was so excited to give you the first as your husband!

Spends the whole night playing games with you, yapping, dancing and having fun! And the next day there will be a themed party where you’d have even more fun.

✰; remember to reblog and like to support my content, I hope you enjoyed it!

[suzukiblu]

WIP WEDNESDAY GAME

Slimmed-down post/rules, but originally taken from @/kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday! This week’s theme is "you like me? sounds fake but okay". We are going to be using various interpretations of this theme, let's say, lol.

Here’s how it works:

I will post the file names of five WIPs, and will also post a snippet of new content from one of them to get the ball rolling.

Send me an ask with the name of one of the listed WIPs and I will write you a minimum of three sentences in that WIP in response!

Multiple requests are fine, but please send them in separate asks. Just a little easier for me to fill them that way, and also easier for people to read through the WIP tags smoothly later.

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

WIP names:

if there is a way to find you I will find you (( chrono || non-chrono ))

the Last Son of Krypton meets Hypertime Kon (( chrono || non-chrono ))

kidnapping your soulmate for fun and profit (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Robin gets nested (( chrono || non-chrono ))

think pink (( chrono || non-chrono ))

snippet from “if there is a way to find you I will find you”:

“It’s alright,” Clark tries again, carefully. Match’s eyes are wide and his expression is fury and fear and he hasn’t said a word; Conner is thrumming with tension and terror and barely restraining himself from throwing himself into the middle of things, which would not help, but at least he knows that. “Can you–” speak, he means to ask, but Match doesn’t wait any longer than that to lunge back forward and attack him again. 

Clark doesn’t have time to react before he takes a fist to the throat that only barely doesn’t crush his throat, and staggers back from the hit. Conner cries out, and Clark feels his terror even sharper than the pain. 

Mostly what he feels is disoriented, though. 

No one who wasn’t an outright enemy has ever hit him that fast and that hard. Barry can’t hit that hard, Diana isn’t that fast, and Captain Marvel typically holds back when they spar, same as he does. Match is clearly, clearly not doing that. 

But . . .

[thelastranger]

I was writing my brotherband exchange fic with my husband- who has not read Brotherband and had never heard of it- present and in the process of him helping me work through the plot, I made him describe the characters based only on what he had heard me talk about while writing the fic. He did ask for their names and their favorite weapon as context. Here are his descriptions, based on pure vibes:

Hal: tall but not too tall, stronger type, can be really quiet if he needs to be, doesn't appreciate it when other people are bullying

Stig: is doing the bullying

Ingvar: thinks he's really cool but really isn't. Hits people really hard but cries about it later

Ulf: distraction guy. Guy you have jump out of a barrel to distract enemies before crossbow guy [Hal] blows their head off

Wulf: also jumps out of the barrel but not quite as well

Edvin: accidentally finds the bear trap

Lydia: (pauses for a really long time). She blows darts. Seems annoying

Thorn: has figured out how to play one instrament poorly and will tell everyone about it. Loud but loud friendly, like Hagrid

Stefan: sings in the choir. Probably plays at least three musical instruments but doesn't tell anyone

Jesper: stealthy boy but would really like to party really loudly even though he doesn't really have any real friends

[eliotquillon]

write me a story where cameron finally learns chase is allergic to strawberries thank you (you can ignore this ask)

rip to chase if i couldn’t eat strawberries i’d pretend not to care about anything either. anyway set between s3 and s4 (or maybe at the very start of s4 idk whatever. point is they haven’t been together too long)

“I could’ve killed you,” Cameron says, sounding angry and annoyed and not very sorry, but Chase knows it’s all a front; she’d cried in the ambulance, small and scared looking as soon as the EMTs not-so-kindly told her that as a doctor she should know that there was little else they could do between giving him more epi and getting him to the hospital, and he’d wanted to reach out and comfort her, but that had been difficult what with his throat being all swollen up at the time. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I wasn’t going to die, or anything,” Chase protests, because he doesn’t really want to talk about this right now: why he never bothered to sit Cameron down and go by the way, now that we’re sleeping each other regularly can you throw out everything you own that contains strawberry? Because there is a reason—Chase isn’t this cavalier with his health on a daily basis, honest—but it is going to upset her, and the whole reason why Chase never told her was specifically to avoid this kind of fight. There’s no polite way to say I was pretty sure you’d interpret it as a sign of impending commitment and run for the hills, especially now that Cameron is kind of adorably self-conscious about that whole period of their lives. He’s only been dating Cameron for three weeks; on balance, the risk of anaphylaxis is far less deadly than the one to their incredibly fledgling relationship. “I had my Epi-Pen on me.”

Cameron narrows her eyes at him in disgust. “I’m an immunologist,” she starts, preparing, no doubt, to rip into him about how Epi-Pens are a miracle of modern medicine but aren’t actually magic, and how anaphylactic reactions can worsen with repeat exposure, and Chase is actually kind of looking forward to it even though his throat is sore and his head is killing him and his body feels like it’s encased in syrup, because a side effect of the honeymoon phase is that he now finds it incredibly hot when she’s on the warpath, even at him—only she takes a big gulp of breath and she suddenly starts to cry again. Not quiet, terrified tears like the one in the ambulance, but big, rolling, heaving sobs. He’s seen her cry before, usually over patients, but not like this, and it freaks him out a little; Chase extends his IV-free arm towards her and corrals her in so she can rest her cheek on his chest. It’s lucky, he thinks, that they’d been closer to General than PPTH; she’d never let him do this if they were in the ER at Princeton-Plainsboro.

“Allison,” he says into her hair, voice still hoarse, “I’m fine. It was an accident.”

He almost adds this has never happened before—because it hasn’t, usually Chase has to actually ingest something strawberry to provoke a reaction, he’s never had one just from kissing someone until now—but he does, for better or for worse, know exactly how Cameron ticks, and he has a feeling that this won’t be as reassuring as he means for it to be. “I’m sorry,” he says instead, “I promise I’m not allergic to anything else.”

“You better not be,” Cameron huffs. She cranes her neck up to look at him, eyes red and puffy, and says, “You’re banned from my apartment until I can deep clean the kitchen. And the bathroom, and the bedroom. I have strawberry lube that I need to get rid of.”

“There’s probably not any actual strawberry in your lube,” Chase says. Cameron makes as though to thump his chest, then remembers he’s hooked up to an EKG and thinks better of it. “No need to ruin all our fun, is all I’m saying.”

“I’m an immunologist,” Cameron says again, but she doesn’t sob this time—it comes out more as a sigh. “You should’ve told me.”

Chase thinks, idly, of all the times Cameron brought her favourite strawberry cream cheese bagels into work and he’d turned them down—how many times House had raised his eyebrows at the sight, but never bothered to say anything, either. He thinks of Cameron crying in the ambulance. There’s a hazy memory of her suddenly running off as soon as the ambulance parked in the bay, which is strange, and then he realises she smells absurdly strongly of medical grade mint. “You threw up,” he realises, and pets her head clumsily. “You should’ve asked for some Zofran.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Cameron says. “When you’re better, we’re going to talk about this.” After a moment, she laces her hand with his. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She says it so nakedly that Chase doesn’t have it in him to fight back about her being mad at him anymore. “Told you I’m fine,” he says drowsily, and then he falls dead asleep.

[zetchrr]

I played this through four times last night and I wanted to add my little thoughts in a more cohesive way than my sleepy keysmashing last night lmao (though I am still keysmashing mentally because holy shit Dessssss) I adored the background choices and I tried them all, it made me want to know more about all of them. I've had so many thoughts about who they might be, it makes me wanna flesh them out. The first thing that hit me was the wonderful description of the Astral. Just breathtaking and a perfect encapsulation of the wild serenity I think of when I picture it. Evocative, atmospheric, endless and safe and dangerous. I feel the same absolute joy I feel when I think about space. (Also the rebels' home location fuck yeah I am here for that so hard) I don't want to spoil things, but the yell I yelled when I saw Des' design for a certain mythical figure. Larger than life, a deity and a mortal all at once. I want to draw them and write about them so much. All of the art is absolutely stunning. Each interaction between the characters is so genuine and heartfelt. You can really feel their personalities, hear their voices. All of the dialogue is fantastic and I cried at several points. Just so poignant and all three of our interviewees feel so distinct and powerful. I could sit here all day and describe how like themselves everyone feels. The rollsssss it took me a few gos to get all of them, but I adored them all. I am absorbing all this gorgeous lore and hc with absolute glee. The memories, the art, they punctuate the questions so well. They flow so nicely. The tooltips are a lovely addition and I was clicking absolutely everything. Also the Ka'zalii reference had me squealing, I am forever honoured that you love my boy as much as I do. And obligatory githscord mentionnnn, I am so pleased to have been there for the journey. I want everyone to play this, it's a wonderful read and will hook you immediately. I've not stopped thinking about it and I'm going to play it again later. Des, you did so fucking good with this. I am in awe of your writing, your art, your characterization and your gorgeous descriptions. You have such a way with words that floors me every time. Thank you for making this wonderful novel. <3

Set after the events of Baldur's Gate 3, the interactive novel Prince, Blade, Breaker is a fanwork inspired by my love of Dungeons & Dragons, the githyanki, their history, culture and language.

Learn more about the githyanki, their culture and language, Prince Orpheus, Kith'rak Voss, and Vanquish. Learn what they all mean to each other, and themselves, by interviewing all three in their unique routes with accompanying images, which contain player choice, branching dialogue, dice rolls, and many secrets to find.

Play or download for free, on itch.io!

If you wish to donate to support me, my art and writing, my Ko-Fi is here. Thank you so much everyone for your continued love and support.

Enjoy your time in the Astral Sea with the rebels!

[miyakosora]

Endwalker - Autumntide Music Video an Essay

 Sometimes you just need a place to gush about something you are really passionate about. After a not-so-fun week of dealing with Covid I happened back upon the music video for Endwalker - Autumtide. So here is where I gush about how Final Fantasy ties all my favorite art-related things together. 

At this point, Endwalker has been out for over a year, and there are so many details in this music video I’ve still probably missed. One of my favorite things in FF14 is the concept of Hope. Everyone has a different story for their WOL, but no matter how grim the circumstances, there will always be our character, marching on through whatever trial we face. No matter how often we get knocked down, we get right back up and continue on. 

So Miya, how does this music video have anything to do with Hope?

Well skeptical Miya, the music video starts off with a younger woman mosing about her home. She’s aimless, fumbling with a bottle and looking at the dead plants in her space. She sings along to the lyrics -Fade away-. I like the idea of this woman not only being the player, not necessarily the WOL, but us the player. 

As the song and video continue on she passes someone reading Count Fortempt’s novel this is matched with the lyrics -Sorrow's silence, we needn't bear-. Next, as she is walking up an overpass bridge she sees a woman resembling Yotsuyu smoking a pipe on the bridge, -Every step we take echoes in our wake-. Finally, she’s alone in the park, tired and breathless from her day of searching. The sun is setting and looking up she sees a figure waving to her as they walk away -To forge ahead-. 

At the start of the video the protagonist is drawn by a glimmering light, and she follows it out of her home. Like I said she’s looking at everything in her house, and looking outside before finally, something draws her in, but we also get these flashes of an internal dialogue where she’s alone, upset, and anguished by this trial she’s going through. -Marching forward, left behind.-

Every step you take forward on any journey in life, you are going to leave something behind. This is true for not only your character as the WOL, but as you the player, and for the protagonist in the video. The woman could continue to stay in her house and that would be her story, she continues to stay and be sad and just fade away. For whatever reason, she chooses to leave and head outside and explore the world. 

There doesn’t seem to be a destination in mind for her, but she passes these characters along the way, and in doing so they mimic some of the characters we’ve left behind in the game. I find myself drawn most to the person reading the novel and how it’s matched with the lyrics -Kindred severed neverwhere, Sorrow’s silence, we needn’t bear.- Ironically, “A smile best suits a hero.” Kindred - family, severed - cut off, and neverwhere- no where. Now neverwhere also has me a little thrown for a loop because it’s the title of a Neil Gaiman novel (Why is it always Neil Gaiman). I would love to go on another deep dive just by that one word alone, but that might be a little extreme.

I’ll be honest I story-skipped Heavensward and Stormblood and went straight for Shadowbringers, (Look I started ARR before Stormblood, and then restarted somewhere before Shadowbringers. I’ll go back and do it at some point.) So I only know a little about Yotsuyu and Tsukiyomi, (that’s not true I’m obsessed with moon mythology). I love the image of her watching traffic as it flows around her at twilight. There is so much movement, but she’s standing still, and our protagonist is surprised to see her there. 

During these scenes, we see those moments of our protagonist anguishing by herself, before coming to the park and seeing the figure waving at her as they leave -Marching forward, left behind-. Then the protagonist is lost in a multitude of sceneries, continuing on her journey. -Should we lose our way, tired of all this pain- We don’t see her anguishing anymore, but there is a moment of weakness as she’s on the ground before looking up at this blinding white light. 

I’m slightly pausing here before I noticed something while writing this, in the last scenes we get a reflection of her shoes and how they are dirty and worn. -Forge ahead-. In the start of the music video when our protagonist first leaves her home, her shoes are white and clean if not brand new. Just like our character when starting this journey. Watching through they actually show the shoes quite a few times and how scuffed and worn they are becoming. Another thing I noticed towards the end before she’s leaning over in the dirt is how her hair has noticeably changed if not grown longer. This could just be unintentional, but I like that it shows the physical passage of time on this character. 

So Miya, I’ll ask again, what does this have to do with hope?

If you’ve played through Endwalker, you know the entire plot boils down to a bird with depression. Our WOL is the reincarnation of the last Azem shepherd of stars in the dark. We could see the story in a few ways. Our character could very much just be a tempered weapon for Hydalyn, we do cause a fair bit of trouble along the way…then we could ask what victory is worth this price. Do you sit in hopelessness and wait for whatever outcome, or do you go out and make a difference? It’s a very human concept, and it blends beautifully into meeting Venat and learning ‘Your answer’. 

The game started with a Calamity. If you play for an hour or through the entire game, you have your own reason for playing. A reason for living in this beautiful world. No matter what brought you to this point, it’s cannon not just to you, but to everything around you. No matter how many times something has pushed you down, you’ve gotten back up and overcome it. You might have just evaded the obstacle for now, but that’s part of life. Not every boss you defeat stays dead, just look at Zenos. Not every action you make will change the outcome of the scenario, look at Elpis and how we went there knowing we couldn’t change their future. 

Saying that though makes me want to reflect on Shadowbringers, and how one timeline’s wish to change reality was able to change reality in its entirety. It wasn’t impossible, only improbable.

And should you lose your way, tired of all this pain, don’t be afraid to forge ahead. 

Much love,

Miyako Sora

[kyouka-supremacy]

(´･ᴗ･ ` )

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: THE WAY SPRING ARRIVES AND OTHER STORIES, edited by Yu Chen and Regina Kanyu Wang (feat. first daffodils!!)

I've been pining after this one since the hardback released, but I'm more of a paperback person so I Waited, and in my Waiting I missed the seasonal alignment to start reading it (come on: I can't be expected to read a collection with this title any time except at the very beginning of spring, right??). But! Guess what!! Spring is once again Arriving, and things are starting to bud and bloom, and I love that!

[iid-smile]

its fun to stay at the yyyyyy m c a 😎

[chickenstrangers]

genuinely feel like i've forgotten how to rewatch things just like as a comfort show. every time i've rewatched a show recently it takes me at least 3 times as long to watch because i have so many thoughts and need to write them down and reflect on them and screenshot everything

[virmillion]

local idiot reads book titled 'icarus,' is shocked when it contains references to falling and the sun, more at eleven

[evansbby]

wow okay, i just…