#demisexual fanfic

[robotbackpack]

Fanfic: In Joy and Comfort

Xuan Shi did not expect the final room of the "trial" to be a secret hideaway for couples to get frisky, and he didn't know Ling Qi’s personal traumas when he invited her to the adventure.

Now the temple is locked away, and she'll likely never speak to him again.

Xuan Shi's POV immediately after the conclusion of the temple adventure.

[astarion-approves]

More than sex.

Astarion x gn! Tav

"You’re telling me, that you.. would pass on a night of… meaningless, fantastic, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mind blowing sex… for love?”

“Yes.”

Rating: Mature (for the subject but no actual sex or smut in any way shape or form.) Tags: Demisexuality, demisexual Tav, Demisexual Reader, No Smut, gn! Reader, Slight spoilers, Act One spoilers, Developing Relationship, Developing Friendships, Drabble, short and sweet, Confessions

Ao3 or keep reading below:

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

“I’m just looking for a little more excitement. A little more fun.”

Tav considered these words, anytime they saw Astarion having ‘fun’ was on the battlefield. Either stabbing his way through anything that stood before him, or sneaking up behind them and slitting their throat before they could even scream. “And what’s your idea of ‘a little fun?’”

Astarion smiled, taking a sip of his cheap wine before speaking, “By the hells. Sex, my dear. A night of passion.” 

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed. So, how about—“

“Shadowheart is free.” Tav looked over their shoulder to where she stood by her own tent where she fiddled with a bottle of wine attempting to open it with slow hands. 

“Wait, what—“ Astarion shifted to look past Tav to where she stood, the woman catching his gaze and glaring in return. 

“And she’s really pretty too,” Tav offered. 

“I’m not interested in hearing her praise her goddess tonight.” 

“Well, there’s also Lae’zel—“

Astarion shook his head. “I think she would rather behead me before she would ever bed me.”

“Halsin is available too—“ The Druid elf was handsome, and such a powerful one at that but before Tav could even finish, Astarion cut them off.

“Tempting, but not the one I’m interested in.” 

“Gale—“

“No.” 

Tav hummed, putting their hands on their hips as they scanned the rest of the camp. There were many others, but most were already too drunk to even remember their own names. “I can’t think of anyone else.” 

“There’s always you, darling.” 

“Me?” Tav snorted a laugh. Surely he must have been joking. Of all the people that Astarion could have… Tav would personally put themselves at the bottom of the list. 

“Yes, you. It’s not everyday someone like yourself would be propositioned by someone like me, and this may be your last opportunity—“

“No thank you.” 

“No?! What do you mean ‘no’?!” Astarion was shocked, his hands jumping to his chest as if Tav had stabbed him directly in the heart. 

Tav grimaced, the way that Astarion’s face dropped, the hurt that filled his eyes so quickly… “Look, I’m not… rejecting you—“

“Sure sounds like rejection to me—“

They shook their head. “I need to be in love first… before I can…” Tav lifted their hands, gesturing towards Astarion in a weak display of trying to find the words and failing. “Don’t get me wrong… you’re- you are breathtaking, Astarion. The most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on—“ 

“Yes, I know. But– you’re telling me, that you.. would pass on a night of… meaningless, fantastic, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mind blowing sex… for love?” 

“Yes.”

Astarion paused, taken aback. “Well, that’s actually quite admirable… But why?” 

“For me, I want it to mean something. Sex is an easily obtainable thing, but love… love you have to work for, to fight for, to earn and to cherish. Sex is great and all but… making love to the person who means the most to you in the world. That’s what I want. That’s what I need.” 

Astarion tapped his finger against his lips, thinking to himself before speaking again. “Hm. Sex and love, I never took you for such a sap,” he said with a light laugh. “Well, how do you feel about being friends then, hm? The kind of friends that protect one another, that is.” 

Tav chuckled. “I think it’s too late for that.” 

“Too late?! So what, now we can’t even be friends?!” Astarion threw his hands up, frustrated. “All I did was hit on you and now—“ 

“No, no,” Tav cut him off, reaching for Astarion’s hands and holding them gently. “What I mean… We can be friends but… I have developed some feelings for you. If you want to be friends, that’s fine. That’s great, actually. I just… well, I need to know if I should ignore those feelings—“  

Astatrion pulled his hands way, choosing to gesture towards Tav as he spoke. “So, let me get this straight. You have ‘some’ feelings for me?”

“Yes,” Tav replied with a nod. 

“But you don’t want to fuck me, tonight? Right now?” 

“Right.” They nodded again. 

“How very interesting… and even.. a little refreshing,” Astarion smiled, a smile that almost seemed shy… With his head turning away from Tav—and Tav swore they saw the smallest blush growing on his cheeks. 

“Refreshing?” Tav questioned, learning towards Astarion in an attempt to see that adorable blush— 

Astarion waved them off, the blush already gone and Astarion back to his usual self. “Never mind that, Tav. I guess we can see where this goes then?” He reached out, taking Tav’s hand into his own and giving it a light squeeze. “Whatever this is, anyway.” 

Tav smiled. “I’d like that.” 

[matcha-milo]

Did any other aroace-spec people try to write fanfiction when they were younger, but struggled to write romance/romantic scenes? Because I vividly remember trying to write fanfiction when I was younger, but not really knowing how to write the romance because that wasn't something that I felt that much. And this goes for all kinds of romantic fanfic, reader insert, OC insert, shipping, etc. I tried writing all of the above, and every single time, I was unable to write, or even sometimes start, the romantic scenes, because I just didn't know what exactly that felt like or how romantic relationships started. And even when I could get through writing fanfic, it just felt SO unnatural and weird to actually write; like not bad, but just odd, like not realistic. But somehow, people really liked it, so I guess I did something right lol

[eddiestightywhities]

“Shit.” 

Eddie mutters the curse under his breath when he can't seem to release the clasp on his St. Christopher chain.

He'd plopped himself down next to Buck after arriving home from dropping off his fourteen-year-old budding socialite at a friend's house, having already kicked off his boots and hooking an arm around Buck's still crossed-at-the-ankle legs, getting comfy with them resting over his lap—well, his lap and the arm of the sofa, because Buck has the longest pair of pins in the whole frickin world.

“Nope, I'm afraid shit can't possibly be the answer to seven down, Eddie, because even though it starts with an ‘S’, and the third letter is definitely an ‘I’, twelve across has got to be 'Skating', which would make the second letter a ‘K’,” Buck says with mock-seriousness as Eddie is still attempting to take off his chain. “And anyways, I don't really think the answer to the clue ‘Dermis’ could legitimately be shit, not by any stretch of the imagination; ‘Dermis’ sounds too… I dunno. Scientific? Medical?”

Eddie snorts his amusement at Buck, and Buck grins back at him with that particular twinkle in his eye that Eddie has come to think of as belonging to him.

He really tries his best not to be possessive over his best friend, knows he has no right to anything like that, but Eddie can't help being in love with Buck, no matter how much he wishes he wasn't.

Eddie's been fighting his desires his entire life, regardless of the fact he knows there isn't a damn thing wrong with being gay. But growing up in Texas, with a family as traditional as his own? It means Eddie hasn't ever felt entitled to getting the things he wants in life.

Buck must notice Eddie struggling, then, because he immediately drops his pen and the crossword puzzle book Eddie picked up for him yesterday at the newspaper stand near the firehouse, and is now swinging his legs off the sofa so he can scooch further up to Eddie, until he's almost on top of Eddie, and is saying, “Here, let me get that for you, Eds.”

Eddie freezes.

He knows he should shoo Buck away like he's supposed to, do the right thing, but ever since Buck started dating Tommy—and ever since Buck broke up with Tommy—Eddie's been pretty bad at being well-behaved around Buck.

Buck doesn't exactly make things easy, though. Never has, truth be told. He's always been a really tactile kind of guy, and right now his tactile nature is trying to murder Eddie, dead, dead, dead.

“Lemme just…” Buck's tongue is poking out of his mouth and resting against his bottom lip in concentration—and Eddie knows he should look away but can't—and then he's leaning right into Eddie's space, like he goddamn belongs there and, oh god, Eddie can't take this. He can't. He can't fucking breathe let alone act like this isn't bothering him, like it isn't turning him on like he's a horny teenager again, like this isn't everything he wants and has dreamed of. “Eds, just… lean forward a little would you, so I can—a little bit more, man, c'mon, don't be shy, I just need to…”

Buck really is on top of Eddie now, big arms wrapped around Eddie's head, musky cologne in Eddie's nostrils and warm breath in the shell of Eddie's super-sensitive ear and fuck, he's practically straddling Eddie now, right thigh pushed up against Eddie's junk, oh hell, and Eddie is panting softly and only about two seconds away from moaning his best friend's name like the pathetic hot mess that he is, Jesus fucking Christ.

“Got it,” Buck mutters, and just as he goes to lean back and pull away from Eddie, Eddie hears his internal monologue say: Yeah, I've got it real bad. 

Then something just—snaps inside of his brain before it's shutting down completely and his heart is in his throat as he finds himself whispering, “Screw it,” while he grabs onto both of Bucks biceps with purpose because he's terrified that if he doesn't, they might leave him forever.

“Wait,” he says. Pleads. 

Buck's right thigh is snug against Eddie's left one, the other still in Eddie's lap, his gorgeous face right there next to Eddie's, so close Eddie can almost feel the prickle of Buck's stubble.

“Eds?” Buck whispers, and his breath is mingling with Eddie's and Eddie hasn't prayed for a long, long time, but he's praying now; praying that he's not about to fuck up the best thing, bar Christopher, that has ever happened to him; praying for redemption; praying that Buck might want Eddie even just a fraction of the amount Eddie wants Buck.

His voice breaks when he says the only thing he can. “Don't go.”

Eddie wants this so, so badly, just this one thing, that's all he's asking for, and he's willing to beg for it if he has to—swears he'll never ask for anything again as long as he fucking lives.

“I'm not, Eds, I'm…” Buck trails off, frowning a little. He swallows audibly and licks at those sinful lips that are right fucking there and then says, “What, um—w-what exactly do you mean by 'don't go', Eddie?”

Eddie's heart is thumping so hard against his ribcage it feels as if it's going to burst right out of his chest, and Buck has to be able to feel it too because his solid chest is pressed up firmly against Eddie's, and Eddie can't believe he's doing this and seriously might just pass the fuck out any minute now—

“I don't…” Eddie shakes his head.

Fuck.

Is he really doing this?

“You don't know? Or you don't want me to go—like, as in go home?” Buck's asking. Eddie can't breathe. “Or do you mean, like, go, uh, g-go away from—from right here?” Buck swallows again and Eddie has never wanted anything more than to lick a long stripe up that prominent Adam's Apple of Buck's. “Do you mean don't go from this, Eds? From… from you.” And that last part doesn't sound like a question, it sounds like Buck gets it, and like he isn't horrified by the idea or amused by it or as if he's pitying or mocking Eddie.

Unbelievably, it actually sounds a little like Buck might just want Eddie, too.

Eddie screws his eyes shut, and all he can manage to say is, “Yeah, Buck. The last one.”

Buck is then slowly, gently, sliding his cheek up and down Eddie's, and Eddie finally knows exactly how it feels to have that stubble dragging against his own and there is no fucking way on Earth he could hold in the almost sob-like breath that leaves his lips as Buck's line themself up with Eddie's trembling mouth.

He's gripping Buck's arms so tightly he's scared he might leave bruises there but can feel Buck smiling as he says, “Can I, Eddie? Please?”

Is this really happening?

“Fuck yes,” Eddie urges, and then Buck is kissing him; slowly; gently, and with so much of something that feels like it could be love that Eddie wants to cry.

Then Buck's pulling away, yet not really away because it's only barely enough to let Eddie swallow the boulder-sized lump in his throat and try to catch his breath—only he doesn't quite manage to catch the tear that escapes the corner of his left eye. Somehow, though, that's okay, because Buck kisses that, too—and Eddie finds himself letting it all go, then, and smiling back at the man he's been in love with for almost six years as he cries, because he can finally feel all the colours of the rainbow on his face.

“Eddie, you have no fucking idea how long I've wanted to do that,” Buck chuckles, and Eddie leans in and tilts his own head back slightly and Buck's down a little to press lips against Buck's birthmark, smiling like a fool through his tears.

Buck puts his arms fully around Eddie's shoulders and hugs him, tight.

Eddie just breathes him in until he feels settled enough to look at Buck without welling up again.

“Skin,” Buck says then, bringing his hands to Eddie's face and holding it, brushing thumb pads along Eddie's cheeks and drying his tears because he wants to, and can. Eddie squints in slight confusion at the word, before Buck's revealing the meaning behind it, telling him, “Seven down, Eds, it just came to me: It was the word skin. Yours is—man, it's even smoother than I'd imagined. So, so beautiful. You're beautiful.”

“God, I fucking love you, Buck,” Eddie blurts, because he can't help it. ���I'm—I'm in love with you, Evan, and I just—I'm sorry it's taken me so long to tell you that, taken me too long to get my shit together and pull my head out of my—”

“Beautiful, insanely perfect ass,” Buck laughs, and then he's kissing Eddie again, like they've been doing this forever, and Eddie's kissing him back and laughing, too.

“Stay,” Eddie begs between kisses. “Stay forever, Buck.”

Buck looks at Eddie like a man in love and says, “I'm in love with you too, Eds. So, yeah, sure, I can do forever,” he promises.

And Buck always keeps his promises. 

.

happy pride to my beautiful firefam 🌈

(unedited pls forgive me!)

[ifwebefriends]

Image ID in ALT

Bad News: the Stanley Parable fic that I originally wanted to finish and post by the end of May is still not done and will probably take a few more weeks

Good News: I started a different Stanley Parable fic a few weeks ago that is already almost done and I feel pretty certain that I can get it done and posted by the end of Pride Month. If you want to be notified on here when it’s done let me know and I’ll make sure to ping you when I post about it on here.

[aravenlovesfanfiction]

[DPxDC Crossovers] next ->

[ironyscleverer]

I’ve come to realize that one of my favorite tropes is when couples do their relationship in the wrong order. like, they unknowingly do all the standard hallmarks of a romantic relationship and only THEN realize their feelings. Good craic.

[heyblue]

Snowflake method of writing? Hehe nah I do the whole “outline this as far as Brain go then fly by the seat of my pants and blaze through the second act slump until I reach the end” method of writing.

[morganski-19]

The One With Hiding in the Dark

Eddie returns to Steve’s bed, climbing under the covers and getting close to Steve. Expecting the post sex after care that should have happened the first time, but couldn’t because of location and time constraints. But there’s a hand pushing him away.

“We need to talk about this,” Steve says, serious.

“I thought we did already.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, we just discussed the label, not how this is actually going to work.”

Eddie sits up, reaches down to find the shirt he discarded off the side of the bed and slips it back on. “Alright then. How do you want this to work?”

Steve sits up, leaning against his headboard and crossing his arms. “You know me, I can have casual sex and not have it mean anything. But when I go out looking for casual sex, it’s never typically the same person. And never someone that I’m close to outside of the hookup.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” He starts to pick at his nailbeds.

“If it were to go on for more than twice in a short period of time, it would tend to lean into the dating territory, which is not what you want.”

“So you don’t want to do this if it’s not leaning into the dating territory.” Eddie takes a deep breath. “I’m not sure I’m ready to be in that kind of relationship.”

Not after last time. When everything went down hill so fast and broke all of Eddie’s trust. Broke everything he built and tossed him straight to the gutter.

Steve nods, understanding. “And I’m not asking for that. All I’m asking is for the possibility that this goes somewhere other than sex.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever be just sex to me, Steve.”

A breath of relief escapes Steve. “Ok, that’s all I was asking for.”

“Is there anything else. Rules, guidelines, and such?”

Steve huffs. “Nothing insane or anything. Those are just a recipe for disaster.”

“I’m sensing a but, there.”

“But, I’d like us to be exclusive. Casual, no labels, no pressure, going at your pace, but exclusive. It’s better for safety, and for me. Can you do that?”

Eddie lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, I can do that. That’s pretty much what I meant by casual anyway.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of different definitions of casual. I’ve been burned by them before.”

Eddie shift, moving to sit next to Steve. As if some sort of truce. He reaches out and takes Steve’s hand. “I don’t want to burn you, I just. I’ve got some commitment issues that I need to work through and don’t think I could tell the group yet.”

“Now I’m sensing a but,” Steve smiles. Squeezing Eddie’s hand in reassurance.

“But. You’re too important to me to lose because of my own issues. If we keep this just between us right now, like this, ease me into the whole relationship thing, I think we can do this.”

“I think we can too.”

. . .

Argyle wakes up shivering. The sheets thrown off the bed and the spot next to him empty. He forces his eyes open and sits up. Takes a second before leaving his bedroom, that’s slowly been turning into their bedroom, to go find wherever Jonathan was.

He finds him in his bedroom, which is slowly turning into just an office. Sitting in his pajamas with the lights out. The only light coming from his laptop. Blue light glasses sitting on his nose, reflecting the images he’s editing.

“Hey,” Argyle whispers, places a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. Startling him. “Sorry.”

Jonathan relaxes back into his chair. “It’s fine. Why’re you up?”

Argyle pulls another chair up to the desk. “It’s cold without you there.”

He snorts. “You say that. Then the next time my hand happens to slip under your shirt, you try and throw me off the bed.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“So, if I do it right now, you won’t try and swat my hand away.” Jonathan raises his hand and moves it toward Argyle, who moves away when it gets close. “See.”

“It’s not my fault your hands are icicles. Like how can they even get that cold?”

Jonathan shrugs, turning back to his computer. Yawning into the back of his hand.

Argyle gets closer, placing his chin on Jonathan’s shoulder. “What are you working on?”

“Trying to get this random guy out of the background,” he says with another yawn.

“Is this something immediate that needs to be worked on, or can you continue it tomorrow?”

Jonathan pushes his glasses up to rub his eyes. “No, it’s not due for another two weeks. And this is the last image in the package.”

“So you could come back to bed then, is what I’m hearing.”

Jonathan tries to hide another yawn. “I was already in bed, it didn’t work.”

“For my benefit, maybe. Because I got cold without you.”

“Let me save,” Jonathan sighs. Caving into Argyle’s excuses, knowing he could really need the sleep. He closes the program and shuts down his computer, setting his glasses down next to the keyboard.

Argyle smiles with small victory as Jonathan stands, following him out of the room and into their bedroom.

“Jesus Christ,” Jonathan says when he sees the bed. “What did you do?”

“No clue.” Argyle picks up the sheets from where they hang off the bed, straightening them out again. Jonathan having to tuck his corner back in before getting back in.

Argyle gets close, wrapping his arms around Jonathan’s waist and holding him close. Pressing his lips against the side of Jonathan’s head. “This is a lot better than sitting at your desk isn’t it.”

“Maybe,” Jonathan smiles.

They two lay there in the dark. Argyle’s breaths starting to even out again, sleep returning. While Jonathan continues to stare at the ceiling. His mind keeping the sleep from him. A question waiting to be asked.

“Argyle,” he says into the dark.

Argyle hums, half asleep.

“Do you ever feel like I’m holding back? From us.”

That breaks Argyle out of his sleep. Causing him to pull away and prop himself up on his elbow so he can see Jonathan better. “No. Are you holding back?”

Jonathan avoids eye contact. “It’s not that I’m holding back, it’s just. We haven’t told anybody yet because we wanted to take it slow, but I know that affects you somewhat. And we haven’t really, you know, and I know you want that, and I can’t give that just yet and.”

“Woah, ok, slow down,” Argyle interrupts him. “First of all, none of what you said is true. We can take this relationship as slow as you want us to, there is no pressure there from me. And I don’t care when we tell our friends, they can wait. What matters is that we tell them when we want to, ok.”

Jonathan finally meets his eyes. “Ok.”

“And as far as the other thing goes. I don’t need to sleep with you to be in a relationship with you. I’d rather wait for you to get the spark than make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“Are you sure, cause this has been a problem in the past and I just-,” he trails off.

Argyle shakes his head. “I love you, all of you. Even your demisexuality. We know it’ll come when it does and you can’t necessarily control it, it just happens. And when it does, we’ll figure out what to do from there. But for now, I’m just fine where we are.”

Jonathan’s eyes close as he exhales. “Love you too. Thanks for being so understanding.”

“I like to think of it as being a decent human being and partner, but you’re welcome.”

He lays back down, loosening his arms around Jonathan as he adjusts. Accepting the kiss Jonathan gives him before finally closing his eyes. Slowly falling back asleep.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady,

@apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic,

@fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging,

@potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @gregre369

@my2amgaythoughts, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @emmabubbles, @eriquin, @grtwdsmwhr

@croatoan-like-its-hot

[ask-spiderpool]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Deadpool - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson Characters: Peter Parker, Wade Wilson Additional Tags: Strip Clubs, Strip Tease, Established Relationship, Banter, Humor, Fluff, Blow Jobs, Nonbinary Wade Wilson, Demisexual Peter Parker, Chicken Wings Being Eaten In A Grotesque Manner Summary:

Peter Parker is looking (respectfully).

AKA. The one where Wade Wilson takes Peter Parker to a strip-club for his birthday.

[ofcrowsanddragons]

@thedissonantverses Is this anything?

[acemoppet]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61903171/chapters/159288755

we’re SO back! Mind the tags and the beginning note, there’s been some updates

[spotsandsocks]

How can we dance when I silenced the song 💜🩶🤍🖤 29k

(7/7 complete)

Using this as my Wip Wednesday tagged by @thekristen999 @hoodie-buck @tizniz @wikiangela @actualalligator 💜🖤🤍🩶

This is all finished Demi!eddie my beloved finds his happily ever after. Wanted to get it all finished out before the next episode and Eddie’s decision making skills disintegrate completely in cannon. 😉

Chapter 7 (7k)

Buck is struggling to untie one of his  shoelaces.

He’s been at it for several minutes now. It’s his own fault, he never unties his trainers when he takes them off and obviously he did them too tight this time and now he can’t loosen the knot.  Eddie watches surreptitiously as Buck struggles, equally amused and horrified at the level of concentration required for the task.

Why he loves him he has no idea, but he does. The warm feeling in his chest is washed away by a sudden wave of guilt. Another month has disappeared since he got back from Texas and he still hasn’t done it.  

He really should. He needs to, he wants to but now they’re at the end of yet another shift and Eddie knows if he puts it off again he’ll probably never do it. He’s been making excuses forever but he really does want to tell Buck about himself. He wants to tell him about how he’s discovered he’s queer too, thank him for his part in that, share this with him like he shares everything else. He just hasn’t found the right time. 

@monsterrae1 @daffi-990 @loserdiaz @the-likesofus @bi-buckrights @rogerzsteven @ronordmann @hippolotamus @elvensorceress @spaceprincessem @bidisasterevankinard @underwaterninja13 @wildlife4life @stagefoureddiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @jesuisici33 @eddiebabygirldiaz @diazsdimples @steadfastsaturnsrings @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @rainbow-nerdss @lover-of-mine @fortheloveofbuddie @watchyourbuck @loveyouanyway @shipperqueen6

[shykpop]

LGBTQIAPN+ HEADERS, + like or reblog If you use

[madanimalscientist]

First Chapter of my JayVik Accidental Dating/Accidental Proposal AU is up!

“What do you mean? We’ve been courting for the past month...?” Jayce felt the pit drop out of his stomach as Vitkor looked at him in shock. Viktor’s eyes widened, his voice growing alarmed. “I am fairly certain we have not!” Accidental dating/accidental proposal AU! In which Viktor and Jayce have inadvertently been reading from two very different mental schema of 'how to relationship' without realizing it, and the chaos and sweetness that ensues when it all comes to a head.

Many thanks to @coppercrow for egging me on and being the best beta/enabler/muse/encouragement buddy a writer could ask for :D

Set between Episodes 3 and 4 of S1, but I fully admit to playing fast and loose with some canon aspects here - bits of Viktor’s pre-Arcane backstory and some of the worldbuilding are lifted from League of Legends/Runeterra albeit in a very patchwork way. Title from "Bowerbird" by molly ofgeography

Fic is 90% written, chapter 2 will go up later this week!

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 8 - You're a...Wizard?

Gale has a theory.

On AO3.

By the time you feel good enough to do things like “stand up” and “form coherent sentences”, Gale’s talking to the people y’all found.

What gets you to that point is the raised voices.

“Left? What do you mean left?” Astarion, voice gone sharp in bitchy. “You were the one talking to them, wizard.”

Your hands and feet is cold. Got a blanket wrapped around you and a smoldering fire to your left. The faint scent of flowers (and sweat and blood and general road stink) washes over you.

Shadowheart. She gives you an appraising nod. Holds up a hunk of bread slathered in honey.

“You’ll need to eat this,” she says.

Because your ass went into shock. Again. Goddamnit.

Between bites, you ask what the commotion is.

“The Harpers scurried off,” she says. Hands you a water skin. Doesn’t even need you to ask to answer, “They’re a bunch of meddlers that pretend at secrecy and tend to stick their noses where they don’t belong. This group apparently has a stronghold nearby, which they’ve invited us to.”

“Unbelievable!” Astarion squawks.

Gale has both his hands up like he’s soothing a pissy pony, and Karlach looks like somebody sucker punched her teddy bear for fun.

“I take it they wasn’t supposed to leave?” you say.

“Harpers have no sense of structure,” Shadowheart says. “They probably argued amongst themselves, and then ran off rather than come to any conclusion. Are you well enough to stand?”

Like a baby cow, all quaking legs and jitters.

The rest of the team catches the movement. Astarion’s gaze lands on you, and that offended expression softens a second.

“They gave us instructions,” Wyll says, heading over. “We’ll follow after them once we rest. They had wounded, too. They won’t have got far.”

Shadowheart leaves you with that water skin and a pear. You look at the pear a long moment. Had enough of them as a kid, too sweet, the flesh gritty. The phantom stink of sticky syrup gumming up your hands as you picked up that long, glittering piece of smashed jar. How easily that glass could open flesh, open an arm.

You wait until she ducks into her tent for a moment and then whistle to Wyll. He glances over, and you toss the fruit, which he catches in one hand.

“Don’t like pears,” you say at the question on his face. The Shadowheart reemerges, and you put a finger to your lips. Without missing a beat, Wyll slides the pear into a pouch on his belt and gives you a wink.

The rest of the party is mulling around, most of the tents lifted up. Sweetums crouches with Scratch in Wyll’s tent. But it’s that silver fluff of hair you’re looking for—

“Feeling better, I take it?” Gale stands over you. Dark circles smudge beneath his eyes and his shoulders slump. You’re pretty sure he ain’t aware of that, though. And despite it, there’s an…air to him.

“Yeah?” you say.

“May I?” He gestures to the space beside you right as Astarion circles into view. Must’a been doing a patrol lap.

He meets your gaze, glances to the wizard. And Gale, who ain’t no observational slouch, picks up on it. Clears his throat. “I can return at a later time.”

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” Astarion says. “I can hardly monopolize the valuable time of our illustrious leader.”

Two nights he’s wanted to be with you, and two nights he got cock blocked. Once by an owlbear, and then by you.

You wince.

“It’s only, I heard from a bird—as I believe the saying goes—that you may have touched the Weave,” Gale says. Takes in your blank stare. “Done magic.”

Well shit. This sounds important.

Astarion watches, his face blank. You ain’t gonna cast him off again. Not because, like, you owe him sex or nothing. You done educated yourself enough in that regard. But y’all are dating (right?). And that means making time for one another.

“I still got a nose, right?” you say to him. “You checked?”

“I did, and yes.” You hope you ain’t imagining the slight thaw to him.

“Then it sounds like we still got dinner plans, if you want?” You tilt your head towards your tent—don’t remember putting it up but somebody clearly did, bless their heart.

He regards you a moment more. Then sweeps into one of his bows, lips turning in a tiny smile. “I suppose it’s only fair to leave you to the tender mercies of our resident wizard while I freshen up. I’ll see you soon, darling.”

He slips into his tent, and you look back to Gale. Only to find half the camp looking suspiciously away. Except Karlach, who grins and gives you what’s apparently the universal “get some” fist pump.

And the cold spot. The eerie shadow lurking to your right. The glacial disapproval blasting the back of your head. You won’t turn. You can’t.

You do. Find Shadowheart just…looking. With the single most disappointed and disgusted auntie stare you ever seen in your whole life.

Gale, however, is either real determined to not make you blurting out to the whole camp your hanky panky plans for the night awkward, or he’s just that invested in you maybe doing magic. And that means you got a good excuse not to make eye contact with nobody else. Neat.

Gale, bless his entire fucking heart, gets right into it. “I heard that spear you picked up had a daylight enchantment upon it. And I take it you were not the one to cast it.”

“Yeah.”

“In which case, I must surmise that the one who did was the poor woman you plucked it from?”

You kinda remember that. Did your best not to look too close at her, especially not the face (kind, brown eyes, he was just trying to help, be a decent person, god). But you nod.

Gale glances behind you. To your tent. To the spear you just now spot leaning against the frame. “Our gith friend insisted. I think she means to train you with that, as you seem to have the inkling of an aptitude. And it is a beginner-friendly weapon. But back to the point! When you lifted that, did you say or do anything?”

The whole thing was so fast. Pure chaos. You running, stumbling, out of time and you just saw it and that crocodile brain of yours reached out through you.

“I just…wanted it,” you way. “I don’t know that I said nothing, though.”

Gale shifts closer. His eyes is all lit up. “Did you feel anything?”

Numb. Cold.

“It, I think it was…humming?”

The man actually claps his hands once. Leans in like a gamer bro about to take on the last, grand prize.

“That’s not the first time that’s happened, is it?” he says. “During your drow encounter. With the ship. The movement continued after Astarion went back to shore, did it not?”

Just for a little bit.

But when you go over that again, Gale starts making choppy hand gestures, talks faster. “An enchantment can only be maintained as long as the caster can hold their concentration. Can continue directing the Weave. When Astarion broke contact, that should have been an end to it. The same with our unfortunate Harper. Yet sometimes, the Weave lingers, only for a moment. And in that moment, it is possible to sweep it up. Not at full capacity, and not for long. But it can be done. Only.” He lifts his lecture finger. He’s been resisting that the whole time, ain’t he? “By someone who can manipulate it.”

Do magic. Which you can’t do. Y’all tested that out pretty good, and not a damn thing. You hadn’t even been thinking of that with the spear. You just…wanted. To keep on glowing. To be safe. To not die. (To stop Shadowman.)

“But I can’t do magic,” you say.

And now, Gale’s beaming turns sly. “I may have a theory about that. One I suspect you also share.”

Behind him, Lae’zel emerges from her own tent holding something. She looks around, as if checking that nobody else is paying attention. Then focuses on Shadowheart kneeling in front of her tent.

Huh.

“You haven’t been surprised by a great deal of things as a visitor from another plane should be,” Gale says. “Your anatomy seems to be identical to a denizen of Toril, and human at that. You’ve had no trouble breathing here, which, well. I’ve read accounts of other travelers pitching over dead after a few minutes. Yet here you are, hale and healthy.”

“Mostly,” you say. “Aside from the soul jar shit. And freaking out all the time.”

“Pish posh. Pluck any citizen of Waterdeep from their daily life and drop them into this madness, and I’d say they’d be doing about as well as you. Perhaps poorer, even. My point being, people have found themselves here by other means than illithid abduction. But your world, Eyarth, seems to closely resemble our own.”

Lae’zel reaches Shadowheart, who lifts her head and gives the gith a single eyebrow arch. You can feel the judgment roiling off her all the way over here, and she ain’t even aiming it at you, this time.

But Lae’zel fucking squares off—Florida Man stepping out into a hurricane with a giant flag shouting “try me bro.” Thrusts what she’s holding towards the cleric. Which turns out to be something dead.

“I have tasted it myself,” she says. “The meat is dry, but it still offers sustenance.”

Oh yikes. Not what you meant. Not even a little.

You duck away from that train wreck to stammer at Gale, “Hmm?”

“Take our food for example,” Gale says. Either unaware of the catastrophe playing out at his back, or just that deep in nerding out. He’s such a sweetheart. “First of all, you have no trouble consuming our food or digesting it. Second of all, you don’t like pears.”

What? That’s just cause…

But y’all ain’t run across pears before. Not since the butthole ship crashed. But you have a preference. Because you seen one before. This is Middle fucking Narnia. Pretty much an alien planet. But y’all got the same food. You vaguely remember ranting to Astarion about it when you was tripping balls in the Underdark.

“Fucking ani,” you say. “Strawberries.”

“Precisely. The very presence of familiar foods, never mind the physical compatibility you demonstrate, is a clear indication of potential contact between our realms. And if food can make that journey, deliberately or not, so might more advanced organisms.”

Not parallel evolution. But…migration. Tomatoes came from South America to Europe after colonization, and were taken in so well, people think they was always part of Italian cuisine.

“You think adaptation?” you say.

Gale sounds out the word silently, and nods. “Based upon that theory, if plants and people can become part of a realm physically…”

“They might adapt to magic.”

The man shines like a fucking ray of sunshine. You can feel the second-hand excitement vibrating off him. “I propose we try routine testing. Perhaps we can do it once or twice a tenday. If something has changed, we can note it. Chart any progression. Monitor your acclimatization, and see of the Weave begins to recognizes you.”

“You’re saying I might…do magic. Maybe.”

“Yes.”

That…is terrifying in some deep, deep way. You don’t even know why.

But also.

You could set things on fire with a word. Fucking contribute something to this group of assholes that ain’t just being a mascot with the occasional idea.

You could be motherfucking Gandalf.

“Let’s fucking do it,” you say.