#mostly happy ending anyway

[ye-olde-trojan-horse]

ATLAS

That sounds so fun and cool and mythological I must know everything!!

I wish it was mythological but alas, it is not - I do hope it’s (mostly) fun though!

Basically this fic is a series of completely seperate chapters based on the songs / lyrics from the album Atlas: Enneagram by Sleeping at Last.

9 songs, 9 unrelated chapters, 9 different povs.

Each chapter will be a short, character depth study told in a fictional way - from the pov of a person who (I think) fits that personality type.

This snippet is from chapter four, which is Pandora’s.

[heymacy]

IAN GALLAGHER + his journey with bipolar disorder

╰┈➤ “At times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning at all, it’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of." - Carrie Fisher

[reineydraws]

i have this fic series i'm still working on where mihawk sort of becomes rayleigh's kid and spends ages 11-17ish on the oro jackson.

shanks and buggy imprint on him (bugs considers him a sort of older brother figure/sparring inspiration and shanks has a crush that eventually turns into full-blown love) and this is how i imagine they're like on the day mihawk sets off on his own haha.

[gogglecannon]

[nintendont2502]

can't stop thinking about an alternate, narnia-style ending to homestuck where they can stay on earth c for as long as they want, but they always have the option to go home

sure, living on a planet you made and ruling as immortal gods forever sounds cool at first, but eventually it's going to get... stagnant, yk? what is there for you to do now? you won. your character arc is over. this is your happily ever after, in a world that reveres you as gods even though you're nothing more than a bunch of traumatised teenagers.

what if you could go back? go back to the day you were meant to play, go back to being 13 and powerless and a kid again, but with all the knowledge that you gained over the years - eventually, it'll fade, but you'll always have that experience. you'll always feel like somehow, somewhere, you were a hero once. John learning to appreciate his dad and his friends and his 'boring' life, and having a chance to reflect on himself. Rose realising that her Mom *does* care about her, just as much as Roxy does - just as much as Rose cares about both of them, enough to try and bridge that gap. Dave knowing that his Bro *isn't* some untouchable, flawless hero, knowing that Dave can stand on his own two feet and take care of himself and his friends even if he doesn't do it how his Bro would. Jade reunited with her best friend, armed with the knowledge that she *will* get out of here, that she *will* see the world and see her friends and loved ones and *live*. Everywhere they look, they see faint memories of people they think they once knew and loved and forgot - in the faces of family, old photos and preserved corpses, terrible movies and buckets and playing cards and the stars in the sky.

maybe they don't go at first. maybe eternity seems easy to them, an entire life left unlived laying in front of them, but once they've done all they can, lived as much as eternity will allow and more, once the only thing left to do is go back - I think they all would. maybe not all at the same time, but I think eventually, all four of them would choose to go home

because they're. yk. they're h. the. they're h. ho. they're homes-

[actual-changeling]

"I love you."

Crowley stops dead in his tracks, his hand wrapped around the door knob with white, trembling knuckles, and closes his eyes.

There were nights, many nights, way more than there ever should have been, during which he traced the constellations in the night sky and imagined what it would be like to hear those words from his mouth. Whether he would say them softly, wrapping each one in gentleness, reverence, or hurried, afraid of who else might hear, terrified that this will be the last words ever spoken between them. If he was particularly drunk and particularly lonely, chasing after the feeling of Aziraphale's brushing over his wrist as they walked by each other in the comfortable mess of the bookshop, he imagined them as a slow drag of breath right next to his hear, a whisper not even God would be able to hear; a promise of worship.

In all of the fantasies, and that is what they were, nothing more than shameful imaginations Aziraphale could never know about, he said it back. Whispered it, screamed it, forced it out between sobs or kisses or panting breaths.

When Crowley opens his eyes again, uncried tears are clinging to his lashes.

Outside, the first splatters of rain are painting the sidewalk black and people hurry by, trying to escape the storm as the sky breaks in two. Within seconds, the steady drum of water against the window is louder than the noise of the traffic, louder than his heart's attempts to beat out of his ribcage and bare itself to him.

He cannot look at him.

It is his first thought and the only one that matters now, he cannot look at him or he will shatter like hot glass dropped in the snow, flying apart into thousands of tiny shards. Crowley tries to rip the image of violet eyes and his perfect fucking cupids bow out of his mind without success (he knows what it tastes like now, remembers tracing it with the tip of his tongue and opening his mouth with a hunger he has never felt before).

Swallowing his own, he listens to the familiar rhythm of Aziraphale's breath, undisturbed and distinctly human in a way that makes them too human to be real, his mouth opening and closing around unshaped replies.

The sidewalk is empty save for a handful of people diving for cover in the pub across the street, and for one precious, fragile moment, the world narrows down to an angel and a demon who watched the first storm rain down on Eden, a white wing held steadily above his head to keep him dry.

Crowley never asked why, and over the centuries, the question got lost in all the others piling up every time they met. He knows why, though, without needing to hear it from him, and it is not because Aziraphale already loved him back then or saw a pitiful creature in need of protection. The answer is so much simpler - he was being thoughtlessly kind because that is who he is.

He is being thoughtlessly kind now, too.

The tension drains from his knuckles and he presses his palm to the cold metal, settling back into a body that now recalls the taste of those three words in the air and yearns for nothing more than to taste them straight from his mouth.

Crowley pushes the door open and steps onto the sidewalk, his clothes clinging to his sharp angles as the rain drenches him completely within seconds, and then he walks home without a single look or word back.

[mmhue]

something something chaining a beast then being surprised it attacks something something

[zeddylux]

The Vi hate in season one always drove me absolutely crazy mostly because I don't think people were really taking into account the gravity of the situations she faced. For example during the bridge scene in season one when Jinx killed Marcus I saw so many takes that were somewhere along the lines of "oh she chose to help Cait instead of her sister" or "Vi really should have said something to make Jinx feel better" and I'm just like dawg. Jinx just BLEW UP A FUCKING BRIDGE. She just killed SEVERAL people. Ya'll were acting like they just met up on a college campus and Vi stood her up for lunch or something. I wish the series got into her alcohol abuse and trauma more because holy shit. Just because she doesn't show her PTSD like other characters doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Not everyone reacts to trauma the same way. If I needed several drinks just WATCHING all the shit that happened to her imagine just for a moment experiencing it.

[prince-liest]

Current mission: Make myself SAD!!

[anti-fairy-world]

You know, while we don't think Stuck In My Head/Mind The Gap were bad episodes or anything, we kinda wish they'd been cut in favor of making that time the part one to The Battle of Big Wand, with the actually episode being part two. Make it a whole big forty to forty-five special instead of trying to fit it with a twenty-two to twenty-three minute run time

We actually like everything they were trying to do with the special, but we just wish they had more time to flesh things out and play around with the jokes between the plot moments. The writers probably didn't really have much of a choice with the time they were given to work with and had to prioritize where screen time was used, and honestly they did what they could, but sometimes it felt like 'and now this is happening so we can get moving with the plot'

[skitskatdacat63]

For @sansebastinae and @boisinnot, my fellow saint seb truthers :)

+ the usual

Yayyyy finished a drawing! Haha only took me...2 weeks. I kept going back and forth on whether I could finish it tonight, and I really wasn't going to. But then I looked at the unfinished version on a different screen and was like oh? Not too bad actually?? So I finished it :) First of all, ofc, here is the process. Kinda weird seeing it for smth like this, it makes me feel like I'm the painter in rennaisance au, not Mark dhjfkf

Ah I was gonna draw a silly renaissance au comic to accompany this(read: lighten the mood), but it's 5 am and I've still not really drafted it well, so! I'd like to finish it at some point bcs I wanna draw more chibi comics, but when I finish smth, I can't help but immediately want to post it, so part 2 will have to wait. I'll show you the outline though so you can at least imagine 😭

^ So many renaissance and beyond paintings of Saint Sebastian are always the most horny thing ever. Like pre/early rennaisance, yeah he was naked and all that, but they were pretty chaste, and uhhhhh suffering?? Well the newer paintings are suffering, but in a different way, if you know what I mean.

So I feel like Mark's the type to be overly pedantic about it, and refuses to make borderline porn of a saint, I mean, god forbid, Seb!!! But then he just. Does anyways. Because he can't control his lust for Seb even when drawing him half dead. I just imagine him holding the paintbrush in a death grip like "must not be horny. Must not draw him sexy. Must make him chaste." And then he ends up with the one seen above. Seb is all smug about it. "Wow you'd wanna fuck me even while I'm all bloody and dying? 🥺"

Mark: "oh I'll make you bloody, alright."

But god so funny to imagine Seb doing all these different slutty poses, like arching his back as much as possible, the cloth nearly falling off at all times, etc etc. And Mark finally lands on this pose bcs he hopes the suffering will outweigh the horny. It doesn't. Also Seb is genuinely serious once he actually gets into the pose, focus mode on. And honestly that's even worse for Mark, bcs it's so much more arousing to see Seb in his element, focused. Tbf I think Seb could be drinking water, and Mark would still find some way to sexualize it. Don't look at his sketches!! They're just filled with Seb doing all kinds of random activities.

Also! Here is the painting I referenced this off of, must give credit where credit is due ofc

The Dying St. Sebastian by François Fabre

Also this isn't really relevant in the context of this drawing specifically. But I looked thru a bunch of Saint Sebastian paintings while trying to find one I could reference, and I came across this middle ages one that actually looks so much like boy king seb 😭 I guess it really is meant to be!

St Sebastian between St Roch and St Peter by Pietro Perugino

Lmao but do you see the difference between early rennaisance and later work???

[kristybluebird]

20 years later RGU

[total-drama-brainrot]

I'll be honest all I can think of is P!Noah's family react to his tv persona.

Like, they know the littlest of their family is a little unhinged but they know he's not bloodthirsty so they're just a wee bit confused.

(And since Noah has, like, 8 sisters I just like to imagine the rest of their giant family is COMPLETELY normal. Like, they have their own individual quirks like anyone else but they're just normal people.)

If you can't tell one of my favorite dynamics is gremlin x just some guy but in this au it's multiple "just some guy“s and it's platonic.

And they've never actively troed to real P!Noah in either btw. They're perfectly content with their little adrenaline junkie baby brother.

Though it does make me wonder how they react in the P!Noah getting stabbed ask

No, see, this is a part of the AU that I actually have some thoughts for.

P!Noah's whole schtick wouldn't be achievable without the showrunners being aware that he's not really gonna do anything to permanently harm the other competitors- it'd be a PR nightmare to justify having an actual loose canon on the show risking the safety of the other teens. So, at the very least, the producers would know that a lot of his threats of violence or otherwise concerning behaviour are an act. (Or an exaggeration of his wilder tendancies.)

Thankfully, canon has its' own subtle little explanation for keeping someone so 'dangerous' around - Izzy's audition tape(s). In those, Izzy states that she'll do her best to "not be boring", which is probably the line that cemented her inclusion in the show. She's kept around as a conflict starter and an audience engagement device, since her antics are so entertaining to watch.

In a similar vein, in p!Noah's audition tape he explains that he's only auditioning for the show out of boredom, and he mostly sees the whole experience as a relatively quick cash grab - after all, he's wicked smart and plenty talented; it'd be child's play to outperform the other contestants (keep in mind, pretty much all of the OG cast were under the impression that Total Drama was going to be something more akin to a talent-based competition at an island resort). He explains that he's not really interested in the show itself, but it could be fun to spend his summer somewhere new where people don't know him or his eccentricities.

At this point in time, Noah's already got his gameplan planned and set; he's already presenting himself as the stoic and somewhat egotistical bookworm, which honestly isn't too far from his actual personality. Save for his psychotic tendancies, that is. Of course, Noah really is smart - smart enough to know that if he came in guns blazing to an audition tape for what is at it's core a social game, he probably wouldn't be picked.

And then the video is interrupted by one of his siblings, who points out that Noah's idea of "fun" generally consists of tormenting the people around him, providing examples of his more daring pranks from a seemingly endless list.

Then more of his siblings join in, all the while Noah stares towards the camera with a smug smile, which only grows wider - unnaturally wide, with hints of unusually sharp teeth poking from stretched-thin lips - as they share transgression after transgression. The tape ends without elaboration, nothing but a still frame of Noah's sinister smirk.

These pranks themself start off pretty tame sounding, like rigging water balloons full of vinegar above doorsteps. They quickly devolve into Noah cutting the breaks on his teacher's car after recieving an unfair grade, mowing down his classmates on a renegade bumper cart during a school trip to a theme park, and things along those lines. Chris, and more importantly the producers, feel a sense of sadistic kinship with the little psycho after hearing about his dangerous endeavours, and cast him on the spot.

So he's chosen to compete for a similar reason as Izzy; to wreak havoc in an entertaining way, and hopefully to kickstart drama.

His family are fully aware of this, though they don't fully anticipate the gleeful sort of vigour Noah has towards tormenting his castmates whilst remaining undetected... by the castmates. They do, however, expect Noah's sly grins and menacing smirks he throws towards the cameras before each successful prank he pulls off with Izzy. And the blank, uncannily empty stares he fixes towards the audience from the background of challenge footage - as if Noah himself can see through the lens into their souls.

After all, they've dealt with him for his whole life. They know his tricks, they've lived his tricks. The whole family has become accustomed to their baby brother who doesn't fully understand concepts like morality and empathy and, as such, can be a little silly sometimes. And they all know just how committed Noah can be to things he finds fun and interesting.

Their first bout of genuine surprise is during one of his later confessionals, when Noah gets too into the persona he's cultivated and starts portraying himself as violent and out for blood.

In Noah's head, he's just upping the ante of his metasocial game. For his family? They know he isn't nearly as violent as he's portraying himself as.

Sure, he's a little impulsive and thrill-seeking, but he's never had a fascination with blood or sharp objects of whatever else he tries to claim in the confessional. When Noah gets home from his stint on Island his siblings are lining up to berate him for his act - doesn't he realise how dangerous portraying himself as an unstable lunatic for the world to see is?

He justifies that anyone who believed his act is an idiot. It's reality TV - anyone with half a brain knows that things are exaggerated for entertainment purposes. He was just giving the editors something good to work with.

Noah is promptly dogpiled by eight irate older siblings.

(I'm also a big fan of "gremlin & just some guy", in this case it's gremlin & many exasperated some guys who aren't afraid of the gremlin. The rest of his family are perfectly normal people who just so happen to know how to deal with somewhat morally bereft hijinks and tomfoolery thanks to their youngest member. P!Noah has an incredibly healthy home life, he's just like that by design.)

As for the stabbing ask; I'm not sure if I want that little scenario to be "canon" to this AU, (and if it is, it'll be re-written with things like context in mind, as opposed to the shitty sleep-deprived drabble I wrote way back when) but if any of his family witnessed Noah being stabbed on international TV the whole brood would be storming the network's headquaters and/or chasing down the Jumbo Jet to get to him. He's The Baby™, you can't stab The Baby™. (Though, inwardly, they'd all agree that it was karma in action. Noah was tempting fate by playing around with knifes for so long, it was only a matter of time before someone got stabbed.)

[cygniavenue]

been stewing on this one for a while but i said i was gonna post more of my headcanons so here's a little bittersweet tidbit;

childhood was a really rough time for Diomedes and Sthenelus (and the other younger Epigoni as well) full of a lot of grief and sorrow and confusion, and the weight of your father's legacy crushing shoulders too young to uphold it or begin to understand it. Diomedes, for the most part, doesn't even remember Tydeus. All he really knows is the idealized version of him Athena and others hold him to. Sthenelus has fleeting memories of Capaneus but refuses to remember - he only resents. Their childhood was spent being trained up to be weapons.

But even so, I do think there were moments where they got to just be kids. They built their own little fort of escape somewhere they knew would remain hidden. It took weeks of stacking rocks with what little free time they had until it was perfect, and it was theirs, and it was somewhere where they didn't have to be wise beyond their years.

They eventually forgot about it as they got older. They sacked Thebes, Diomedes restored Oeneus to the throne, and then the Trojan War happened, and all the things in between being on the battlefield - getting married, becoming kings, Sthenelus even had children of his own. The fort lay forgotten and untouched, a reservoir of good memories they'd both buried a long time ago.

And then, when they're fleeing Argos, they find it again, reclaimed by the vines and the leaves. All their old stuff is in there still, little wooden swords and shields, animal and soldier figurines, drawings they etched into the rocks. It's the only place they ever had that wasn't overrun by sorrow, where they weren't forced to fill the shoes of men they don't (or refuse to) remember.

But there's just no time left. They have to leave it knowing they'll never see it again. All they can do is hope they can hold onto a fragment of the tranquility their younger selves buried there.

[sprtruechara]

i really hope people like my interpretation of chara for the pb au bc if they dont im putting my neck on a saw blade

[batgirl191919]

Day 21, (Part 1) A Kiss

This is from my longer GalexDurge OC fic—click here for more

If you would like some build-up to this scene, I suggest reading from here.

Summary: This occurs shortly after Elminster tells Gale about the Netherse Orb and what Mystra has planned for him. Kore (Durge OC) is struggling with the news and trying to come up with a way to convince Gale that he doesn't have to go through with this.

*I am convinced that the second the orb was stabilized, Gale would AT LEAST kiss Tav. THE MAN WAS ALONE IN HIS TOWER FOR A YEAR! HE IS TOUCH-STARVED, AND YOU CAN'T CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE!

Spoilers(ish) ahead if you haven't yet played the game or done Gale's romance route.

Here is the link for this chapter on AO3

Day 21, (Part 1) A Kiss 

Kore was at the shore of the lake for a long time. 

Last Light Inn was slowly waking up behind her, but she made no move to go and join the early morning bustle just yet. 

A few moments ago she had an unexpected visitor, and she was still unsure of what to make of the encounter.  

At first, she had not noticed the old man behind her. She was deep in thought, forming a steely resolve to find another way for her and Gale to get rid of the Absolute without using the Netherese orb.

Then she felt a presence behind her—one of power… and magic.

Still, it surprised her to see Elminster watching her curiously and carefully some paces away from the lake. There was a portal behind him as if he had decided to leave and then, at the last minute, decided to come looking for her. 

Why her?

Kore did not speak. She tried not to glare at him, but she most likely failed in doing so. 

“I encharged Gale with Mystra’s orders,” the wizard finally began to say as Kore wrapped her arms tighter around herself. 

“To you, I commit into care Gale himself. I count on you to shepherd him well on this strangest of journeys.” 

Kore couldn’t stop herself from scoffing. Did the old man really expect her to lead Gale to his own death? What did he even expect her to do—to ensure that Gale went through with Mystra’s commands? 

Her voice was dry and cold when she finally responded, “You came a long way, Elminster, but if your plan was for Gale to follow through with this and for the rest of us to sit idly by—for me to sit idly by—then I am afraid your trip was a waste of time. Perhaps, in another life, Gale would have done as Mystra said… but I’m afraid your mistress didn’t account for everything.” 

Elminster raised a brow, but his face remained mostly expressionless. 

“She didn’t account for me. And I will find another way… I will not allow him to do this,” her voice broke, and she turned back around to face the lake again. After she sucked in a deep breath, Kore finished with, “I don’t care if you tell her about me or not… but if you do… let her know that she won’t be deciding for Gale anymore. His life is his own.” 

The ancient wizard didn’t say anything else to her, and Kore eventually heard his footsteps retreating against wet sand, then there was silence. He was gone. 

It’s a dangerous thing to defy a god. 

The dream visitor contemplated in her head.

Kore snapped back—

I would face every god of the Faerûn pantheon if it meant he would get to live. 

Her guardian was quiet for a moment. Then he slowly spoke, slightly hesitant-

There is a way you have not yet considered. You have yet to use the parasite’s true powers.

Kore thought of the live mind flayer parasite specimens that Halsin kept in his pack… the dream visitor had promised her great power and abilities if she consumed more of them. She shook her head. She was already carrying one worm against her will; she wouldn’t let more leech on her willingly.

 No… no, there will be another way. 

The guardian didn’t say anything back to her, but a part of Kore’s unsettled mind lingered on the promise of these special powers…

Her brief visit with Elminster had perhaps happened a little less than an hour ago. Yet, Kore couldn’t seem to move from where she was in the lake. Though she was shivering now, and the cold water had thoroughly soaked the entirety of the bottom of her nightgown, she couldn’t bring herself to face anyone else just yet. Her jealousy of Mystra had begun to consume her once more, and she was fighting hard to overcome it. 

It would be so much easier if Mystra were not constantly talked about. 

She was tired of hearing the goddess’ name. There was a sting that came along with it, even though Kore was sure that Gale didn’t intend for the mention of the Mistress of Magic to hurt her.  

After all, Mystra was the Weave, and Gale’s skill with magic was a part of him.

He had told her so; his connection with the Weave was something he couldn’t give up, something she would not want him to give up. Not because he needed to be powerful for Kore but because it was something that he enjoyed, something that he loved. And so that probably meant that Mystra perhaps would always be a part of his life.  

How could one separate the two? 

And even when he did bring up his goddess, his past lover, Gale only sought to be honest about his past. Something Kore had been unable to do… she couldn’t tell him about her past lovers, about anything really when it came to her past life. A part of her felt guilty suddenly. She hadn’t told him about Sceleritas Fel… or about the memory she had the previous night during that awful dream…

Kore suddenly felt like someone had slapped her across the face.

How could she have been so dense? Only now did she realize that…

That all this time, when Gale talked of Mystra around Kore… he didn’t do it because he was still in love with the goddess. He had made it clear that his feelings for her, however complicated, were not romantic. But Kore had doubted this because he talked about her so much… because his life seemed to be permanently intertwined with her being…

It was impossible for Gale, for anyone, to separate the goddess of the Weave from magic itself. 

Was it not the same for her and all druids with Silvanus? 

And… the way Gale was able to talk about his past, no matter how painful it was to him, no matter if he feared that Kore or the others would judge him for it… he was able to do so because he felt comfortable enough with Kore to share a part of himself. 

Just like she had confided in Astarion about the urges, and he had let her see the scars on his back, Gale was… being vulnerable. Why hadn’t she seen it that way?

Instead of focusing on comforting him and sharing his burden… instead of being truthful with him, she had been jealous.

Her heart ached.

Because she knew that she had been unfair and because she knew that it wouldn’t be easy to convince Gale to defy Mystra. But she loved him, and she needed him to know that even though she couldn’t understand all of his hurt, she would be here for him. She would face the consequences with him, whatever they may be—because as long as she was with him, she feared little. 

Kore turned, running out of the lake. Water splashed around her, and only one thought filled her mind. She needed to find Gale; she needed him to know how she felt—

She cried out in surprise as she was suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace, her chest smashed against the man holding her, his hands gripping her waist before moving up her tensed body.

Kore looked up, her eyes wide as she met Gale’s hazel ones for just a second, taking in the fact that he was out of breath as if he had been running around looking for her. His chest rose and fell against her own, and she saw a ravenous look in the wizard’s eyes—one that she had seen before, one that remained unconsummated. But now that longing was paired with something else, a carnal determination set on only one thing.

She opened her mouth to ask if he was alright, but she didn’t get the chance to say anything before one of Gale’s hands gripped the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her curls as he pulled her even closer to him, crashing his lips onto hers in a bruising kiss. 

Kore felt herself jolt back at the sudden action, but Gale’s tight hold prevented her from moving away. She melted into his arms as her hands desperately sought his body, grabbing his robe and clenching the soft material in her fists. She could smell the morning mist on him, along with his usual lingering aroma of worn paper and books. His touch, his scent, his taste were intoxicating to Kore, who was losing herself in the kiss—the rest of the world became muted around her. 

The hand that was still in her hair softly forced her to tilt her chin up as Gale deepened the kiss, his tongue entering her mouth in a smooth motion. Kore heard herself moan, and she felt how her cheeks reddened at the unexpected lusty noise. Her desperate whine seemed to encourage the wizard, and he pressed into her as his tongue continued to tease hers. 

A frenzied feeling took over her as she savored the feel of his body against hers. Emboldened by her desire, which had gone so long without this kind of intimacy, Kore nipped at Gale’s lips, and she thought she heard him curse against her mouth, a low growling sound that made her shiver. The hand on her waist moved up to her throat, and she felt the slightest pressure as he squeezed her neck. 

Everything was quiet, everything except for her needy noises and the sounds of their kiss. 

Kore was sure she had never experienced such yearning as this. She had wanted to kiss Gale so badly these past few days, but she had never expected that it would feel as consuming as it did now—an unstoppable heat that enflamed her body, sourced at her center and spanning out into her limbs until she felt her legs quiver. 

A dizzying feeling bloomed through Kore, and she felt breathless, but she didn’t want him to stop. 

Eventually, Gale reluctantly pulled away, placing a more chaste kiss on her mouth as his calloused hand stroked part of her face and throat.

Kore searched his gaze, still recovering from the intensity of the past moment. She was sure that a look of mixed pleasure and awe was apparent on her face because Gale was watching her with a small smirk on his reddened lips. 

They were silent for a long moment, and Kore eventually had to look away. Gale’s eyes were dark, lustful, and saying everything that remained unspoken, too intense for her now that she suddenly felt more timid around him. 

“I needed to ensure I kept my promise.” 

Kore tilted her head in confusion, “Promise?” 

“I told you nothing or no one would keep me from you when the issue of the orb was resolved.”

Kore looked down at his chest; the markings were slightly alight, but the glow and the power of the orb were obviously contained in a way they had not been before.

“Oh,” was all she could say for a while.

Gale’s thumb brushed her lips, tugging on the bottom one, and Kore had to hold herself back from whining—from begging him to kiss her again. 

“You’re a good kisser,” she said breathlessly. 

Gale laughed softly, “And you’re a bad liar. I lived the life of a hermit for some time before I met you—safer for all, but not conducive to pleasures of the flesh.”

Kore shook her head, “I meant what I said.”

The wizard looked away, somewhat shy from the compliment, “Thank you.” 

“So the orb really is stabilized then…” she whispered as she placed her hand over the mark.

“Yes.” 

“And… and…”

Gale sighed,  “And an audience with Elminster is never less than memorable.”

Kore waited when he paused, hoping he would tell her that he would choose not to follow Mystra’s order—that he would choose to live. 

“I’d have hoped to introduce you to him in less dire circumstances, but those are hard to come these days.”

“I would have liked him perhaps… if he had come bearing better news.” 

Gale was silent again for a moment. Finally, in a low voice, he muttered, “For Mystra to have sent him… the severity of her bidding could not be clearer. Or weigh more heavily on me.

His finger traced her jawline, and Kore shuddered as his still-hungry eyes fixated on her mouth, “Time seems so infinite when you are young… a month is an age, a year is a lifetime… it is a strange feeling—to realize how little of it one might have left.”

Gale leaned down to kiss her again, and as much as she wanted him to, Kore forced herself to push him away. She looked at him with disbelief, “Gale, you can’t be seriously considering doing what Elminster said.” 

He seemed confused by her words, “Of course I am. He offered the clearest solution to our problem. All I have to do is find the right place and time, close my eyes, and let go… Then the slate will be clean, wrongs will be righted, the Absolute will be gone… and I along with it.”

“How could you say all of this? Why can’t Mystra just destroy the Absolute?” 

“I’ve no doubt she has the power to do so, but as for the permission… Ao would not look kindly on her meddling in mortal affairs. Divine intervention has a tendency to make things worse, not better. My orb is the best chance we have—and only I can wield it.”

Kore’s jaw clenched and released, “Well, I do not accept this. There must be another way. We will find another way.” 

Gale’s voice became gentle as if he was trying to figure out how to tell a small child bad news, “Sweetheart, I’ve been living on borrowed time in more ways than one. Perhaps… perhaps this is how it must be…” 

He tried to smile, but Kore could see the pain and sadness he was failing to hide, “But that remains ahead of us for now; the Heart of the Absolute must be discovered before I can stop its beating.” 

Kore grabbed his shoulders, wanting to shake him, to make him see reason, but she only squeezed him slightly, “I won’t let you do this.” 

“You may feel differently once we know what we’re truly up against,” he murmured against her hair before pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

Her tone became sharp, “Do you remember what you said to me? After my nightmare? You told me the past is the past. Even if you atone now, you cannot change what has happened. Do you remember that? What good will come of you dying?”

“A lot of good.”

“According to her!” Kore swore and stepped away from him, summoning all her courage. She met Gale’s eyes once more, her voice slightly begging now, “Gale, please, I… I love you.” 

 “Farewell, my friend.”

“Farewell, Elminster. I’m glad she chose you.” 

It was only some hours ago that Gale watched Elminster walk through another portal, leaving him behind in the empty courtyard of Last Light Inn. 

His first thought had been that he needed to go find Kore, but something stopped him. He wasn’t sure that he could face her just yet—not when he knew he would not be able to find the words to say to her. 

How could he bear to look at Kore now? He could not comfort her. How could he do that when he knew what had to be done?

Fear froze him in place for a while as he found himself looking at his past, wondering what he could have done differently so that this wouldn’t have happened. His damn pride was primarily to blame, but he found himself trying to look for other excuses. 

Since the debacle with the Netherese Orb, Gale hoped he would have a chance to gain his goddess’ forgiveness. This entire time, he had only resolved to do whatever Mystra asked of him—before he met Kore, he would have done anything. Before he met Kore, he would have even thought Mystra’s latest command to be a just punishment. A fair price to pay for what he had done. But now, it seemed unfair, and he was not willing to blindly trust his goddess, his past lover. 

Gale didn’t want to die. 

Kore had restored a part of his soul that he was unsure he would ever gain back, and for the first time in a year, he was actually enjoying his life. 

One might consider that he was worse off now than he was then when the hunger in his chest was his sole source of worry. Considering the mind flayer parasite still swimming in his skull, he should have felt worse now. After all, their present situation was a delicate and distressing one. 

But Gale felt peace, hope, anticipation—all at once. All because of her.

The druid in front of him was watching him with a pleading expression. 

“Gale… Gale, I love you.” 

She loved him.

His throat was dry as he looked Kore over—looked over the beautiful woman who said she loved him—and he was frustrated that he could not conjure up words of comfort for her. Part of him was distracted; lust was still driving him. He had just discovered how lovely she looked when she had just been kissed. Though her eyes were angry, they were also bright, and her skin was flushed, her lips still deliciously swollen from their kiss. 

Gale hoped he hadn’t been so much of a brute, but he could see part of her cheeks were pink from the harsh rub of his beard.

When his initial panic wore off, and he realized that the orb was indeed stabilized, Gale ran up three flights of stairs, but she wasn’t in their room. He searched the common areas of the Inn and the stables before he began to look towards the lake. 

There she was, water past her ankles, her loose nightgown floating with the soft waves of the lake. 

Her hair was down, brushing around her shoulders and down her back, swaying with the cold breeze. She seemed more nymph than elf in that moment—a lovely creature of myths and legends. He had wondered what she had been thinking.

Gale often found himself wondering what she was thinking. 

There were times when Kore grew quiet, pensive, and her focus drifted away. 

Her past, or the lack of it, obviously weighed on her. Gale wished that he could do more to comfort her, though it seemed like that was a hole that could only be filled with her memories coming back. 

“Gale, I love you.” 

She loved him. 

Even with all his faults. Even with the orb in his chest. Even though she probably could have had anyone she wanted. Even with everything going on around them.

She loved him. 

And he loved her. He loved her so much that he was willing to do anything to get her a chance to restore herself. 

He loved her so much that he was willing to do anything for her. 

When he considered using the orb to defeat the Absolute, he didn’t think about doing it for Mystra; he thought about doing it so that Kore could have a real chance for a new life. 

It would be a life without him… he wished desperately it could be different—that things didn’t have to end this way. 

Kore looked away, her face getting redder, “You don’t have to say it back, I didn’t mean to put any pressure on-”

“I love you too,” Gale said as he reached out for her. 

Kore smiled, a brilliant thing to behold. Her smile put everything else he had ever seen to shame. What he would give for her to smile at him like that always. 

What he would give to live longer and see that smile every day until he breathed his last at a very old age. 

“Then promise me you will let us find another way,” she said as her grip on him became stronger, “Promise me.”

“Kore—”

“Just promise me you will consider another way,” she insisted again.

Gale felt himself relent to her plea a little. 

He doubted that there would be another way, but he would have to be an idiot to completely discount another path. Though it was perhaps a fantasy or a delusion, he would agree to Kore’s wishes. He would let himself hope for just a little that there might be another way. 

“Alright,” he replied quietly, and Kore gave him a smaller smile. 

“We will find another way.” 

Gale nodded before he pulled the beautiful elf back to him, pressing another hard kiss to her. 

She was still smiling when he looked back at her, but he could see the slight worry in her eyes. He hadn’t done a very good job of convincing her that he was considering another option. 

Gale looked away, noticing how the sleeve of her slightly too-big nightgown slipped from one of her shoulders, revealing smooth, freckled skin. He pressed his lips to her exposed shoulder before he brought up her sleeve. 

Kore looked at him through hooded eyes. 

He felt like there were still things left unsaid between them. Kore wanted to convince him that the orb was not an option at all, and Gale wanted her to understand that he would give up his life for hers without hesitation. 

But they were quiet as they turned back to Last Light Inn. 

Before they turned to go around the front, Kore looked up at him, her gaze hopeful, “Today’s a new day. A new day where our pasts do not need to define us.” 

Gale pulled her into another hug, resting his chin on the top of her head and hoping she wouldn’t see the doubt in his eyes. 

For her, he wanted to believe that there could be another way, but the more rational part of him knew that he was in his final days… and he would make sure that these final days counted for something.