#rest in piece gnome fuck

[breadva]

Curse upon ye

me after one (1) curse

[justcallmefox89]

Gnome Troubles - Chapter One (Astarion's POV)

The group watches in stunned silence as the goblins descend upon the small band of humans huddled outside the hidden community’s gates.

Wicket is the first to move, dropping his pack into the dirt and drawing his sword with a deep sigh.  “It can never be fucking easy, can it?”

Then he’s gone, moving with the stealth and speed forest gnomes are renowned for, felling two goblin combatants before the rest of his party collects themselves and leap into action after him.  The skirmish is hard-fought and short-lived, with a tiefling guard as the only casualty.  Lae’zel, Astarion, and Gale huddle together outside the now open gates as Wicket picks through the still warm corpses of fallen goblins, searching for anything of use.

“Our tiny companion is more impressive than I originally gave him credit for,” Astarion muses, idly flicking a bit of goblin blood from his dagger.

“He seems to be a rather high ranking cleric of Kelemvor, if I recall my religious iconography correctly,” Gale replies, subtly motioning towards Wicket.

Astarion’s eyes widen.  During the fighting Wicket’s cloak had been torn away, now revealing the gnome’s long, tousled hair, and the delicate silver circlet resting on top of his head.  A previously unseen amulet, a silver skeletal hand holding a set of golden scales, now hangs loose against Wicket’s shirt.

“A necrobane,” Lae’zel says approvingly.  “A useful ally indeed.”

Astarion’s stomach twists uncomfortably.  Being near a gnome is already an unpleasant prospect, but to travel in such close quarters with one of Kelevmor’s warrior clerics is a recipe for disaster.  He will have to do something before the gnome discovers him… then again, Wicket hasn’t given any indication that he knows Astarion’s true nature.  Perhaps in addition to allowing him to walk in the sunlight the tadpole shields him from the cleric’s divine senses.

Seemingly aware of the elf studying him, Wicket raises his head and locks eyes with Astarion.  The elf shudders under Wicket’s gaze; the gnome’s pale, nearly colorless eyes pin him in place, like an insect to a piece of cork.

He knows.

Panic rises in Astarion’s throat.  He is free for the first time in 200 years (tadpole aside); he has no intention of dying at the hands of a necrobane, and a gnomish necrobane at that. 

Seemingly bored of their impromptu staring contest, Wicket breaks eye contact and continues his rummage through the dead goblins’ belongings.

Astarion clenches his fists and sets his resolve.  The next time the group stops to camp for the evening, he will have to do something about his gnome problem.

[gothidecorem]

Oh where do I begin…today was an absolute blast. I couldn’t afford to get a selfie with both of them but I got to meet Alex and Amir today and give them the art I made them. Amir was a sweetheart and absolutely adored gnome Alastor. He had a giant smile on his face when I gave it to him. I think he might have been a little nervous at first because I prefaced it with “I had mentioned to you on Twitter a while ago that I was gonna give you this…” 😂

I started by giving Alex the Beetlejuice gnome I made him, to which he giggled; all the while keeping my canvas flipped around so he couldn’t see the other side. When explaining the things, I said “I thought to myself, I need to make something deeper and not so superficial..” since Beetlejuice is more mainstream so to speak compared to the topic of my second piece.

When I say I got this man’s jaw to drop, it freaking dropped. As soon as he saw the pic, his first words were “holy fucking shit” to which he then quickly apologized since my 6 year old was standing there. Which I told him my little has heard worse ��� (mama unfortunately has the mouth of a sailor and road rage, I’ll be the first to admit that). But he was absolutely blown away by my 35mm art and said that that is his favorite project he’s ever worked on. He even said that he was gonna keep it on the table the rest of the day so everyone could see it.

Before I got my selfie, I asked if I could take a picture of it on the table. Alex being Alex jumped right by it as I was taking the pic and that’s how I got the shot of him with it. I was so nervous I felt like I was word vomiting the whole time, with both Alex & Amir. One of the last things I said to Alex, pointing to my cosplay, was “my nod to the musical” and he goes “obviously, you think I wouldn’t notice? I love it!”

On the way home, I got an added bonus thanks to the Des Moines Con Day 1 Wrap Up Post:

Even though I got to spend only a little time with the both of them, today will be a memory that’ll stick with my daughter and I for a very long time.

[vokis-inn-and-tavern]

for tlovm, ive been hooked on a modern!reader getting into Exandria and VM trying to help them home (but there's no way back lol) it doesn't have to be the exact moment they came through but id love headcanons of the journey, (whether its modern world of exandria or our world, just all i ask is there's no mention of reader knowing the show, like an isekai)

No way home

Characters: Vex'ahlia, Vax'ildan, Keyleth, Percy FancyLongName de Rolo, Pike Trickfoot, Grog Strongjaw, Scanlan Shorthalt, (and a guest appearance from Gilmore)

Type of Request: Headcannons

Word count: 1,887 words.

Notes: Usually don't write modern!reader but this gave me such a brainworm

You ended up in this weird fantasy world about... two weeks ago? You've lost count. You were just driving to home from larp event you had with your friends. It was late and you only closed your eyes for a moment, no more than a blink, and when you opened your eyes it was just you in the middle of a forest. But you've survived and managed to get a few odd jobs killing rats, spiders, and that one wolf pack (You can thank inflation your ability to stretch a gold piece). You are just trying to get a drink in this small town tavern when guards barge in saying that you're a part of this group, Vox Machina, and that you're under arrest. Despite your protests that you've never even heard of a "Vox Machina" you are thrown in this cell with two really short people (gnomes you think they're called?), two women with lightly pointed ears, a man with glasses and white hair, and a very tall and beefy bald man with grey skin.

...

Fuck.

Pike

Oh, you're so lost, and luckily she notices.

"Don't worry, we won't be here long."

She introduces you to everyone (and lightly smacks Scanlan when he flirts with you).

When you all break get out of jail, she is one of the first to suggest that you should come with him. After all, you clearly need help to actually be stable enough on your feet to protect yourself.

Loves hearing about your family.

The second she hears about you wanting to go home she's helping.

Buys every book on dimensional travel that she comes across. Takes notes on what you say happened. Asks every wizard she meets.

Girly just wants you to be happy and if that takes you going home then so be it.

Eventually Gilmore thinks that they've collected enough information for him to cast the spell.

Pike watches as you step into the circle, almost as excited as you!

And watches that expression turn to dread as the spell fails.

And that expression turn to despair when it fails again.

You are in your room for the rest of the night, missing dinner.

Pike knocks on your door that night, bringing dinner.

Her heart breaks even more when she sees your tear streaked face.

After she insures that you have eaten, you make her promise to stay.

"It's okay, I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay, I promise."

She lets you curl around her, clutching her close like a teddy bear.

In the morning she makes your favorite breakfast. And from then on she stays by your side.

Vax

Yeah... He's the one who told the guards that you were a member of Vox Machina. Also the one who broke all of you out.

"Sorry about that... But, I mean, I did also break you out of jail... So... Even?"

Agrees with Pike, you don't seem quite competent enough to be left to your own devices. Especially after figuring out that you don't even know what a half-elf is.

Is honest with you and tells you the about elves' less than stellar opinion on half-elves.

Thinks a world without magic weird. Like, how do you defend yourself from bandits without magic 'cause you don't really seem like the type who can only use mundane weapons.

Teaches you some dagger basics, just to make sure you can protect yourself.

He helps gather supplies for Gilmore's spell, just don't ask how he got them.

It's a bittersweet goodbye for him as you step into the circle, it feels like only yesterday when you met.

His small smile falls when the spell fails, his heart breaking for you when it fails a second.

He barely holds himself back from chasing after you as you run off to your room, he knows the face of someone who is barely avoiding crying, but he decides to leave you alone for now.

That mentality only lasts till dinner. The second he doesn't see you at the table he grabs both of your plates and heads to your room.

He doesn't bother to knock as he enters, sitting next to you on your bed and offering you a plate. He makes sure that you eat at least half of it.

Offers to stay with you. Even if you can't go home to your family, you should at least have some company.

"Hey, I'm here for you, all of us are."

Holds you close for the rest of the night, draping one of his raven wings over you like a blanket.

The next day is all about you. Vax waits on you, don't even worry about leaving the bed. Oh, and don't ask where he got that bracelet.

Vex

She is so going to lecture her brother for getting a random stranger involved with this.

"Sorry you got caught up in this, darling."

Doesn't think you should come along. In her mind, you're just another person to feed and house, another expense.

Lies and says something like half-elves are loved by all and considered the best, till the lie falls through and she explains the truth.

Starts to warm up to you when she notices your ability to stretch money.

Doesn't really want you to leave but keeps it to herself and helps by financing some of the supplies.

She gives you a small hug before you walk in the ring.

And watches your look of despair as the spell fails and fails again.

She watches you leave for your room, stuck between following you to comfort you and giving you space, but when she doesn't see you at dinner she makes up her mind.

You hear a knock on the door and open it to reveal Vex with some wine and a lavish charcuterie board.

"Hey darling, you look like you need some pampering."

She ends up pampering you for the rest of the night and you two fall asleep in each others arms.

In the morning you two have a spa day, expenses be damned.

Grog

He is so confused by you being in the same cell as them.

"Uhhh... Do we know you?"

He'd love to have you come along, you seem like a good person and having someone to teach combat to looks fun.

Wants to hear all about your favorite foods from back home.

Not bothered by you not knowing what a goliath is, there isn't really that many of them.

Teaches you how to swing an axe (just maybe exercise a bit more self preservation than him).

Takes you wanting to go home a bit personally at first but then sees how much it matters to you.

Pike he is so exited that you finally get to go home and see your family again!

He doesn't understand what is happening when you don't teleport and when you go off to your room looking sad. When someone finally explains it to him he goes to work trying to make your favorite food.

It doesn't look pretty but when he opens the door with that dorky smile (and a cask of ale) it doesn't matter.

"Hey, uh, I made your favorite food!"

You end up falling asleep on his chest. I mean, who needs a bed when you have a Grog.

The next day is spent cuddling and trying to make your favorite food again.

Keyleth

Even more lost than you when she sees you.

"I- uh- I think there has been a mix up."

Totally wants you to join! You seem super nice and you clearly need help.

Please tell her about all of your favorite plants from back home!

Wants to show you all of the cool plants of Exandria.

When you mention wanting to go home she is down to help!

She tries to provide some input on dimensional travel from a druidic perspective.

She excitedly waves as you step into the circle.

Her heart breaks when she sees the look of disappointment on your face when the spell fails.

And your look of despair when it fails again is even worse.

She gets really worried when you don't arrive to dinner and goes to your room to check on you.

"Hey, uh, a- are you okay? I- I brought some food for you!"

You two end up cuddled together surrounded by druidcrafted flower petals from your favorite flower.

In the morning she makes you a nice cup of tea and takes you on a nature walk.

Percy

Doesn't trust you from the moment you enter the cell.

"My name is Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III and I suggest you tell us who you are quickly."

Doesn't want you too come along. As far as he's concerned you're just dead weight and another person to worry about.

Totally doesn't believe you at all. Like, wdym you live in a world where fast horseless carriages and glowing rectangles that answer your questions in mere second? And you don't have magic?!

He slowly warms up to you as you tell him about the technology from back home.

Still doesn't fully believe you but that doesn't mean that he won't try to recreate the things you talk about.

He really relates to wanting to go back home to family.

As much as he helps with the research, there is a selfish part of him that wants you to stay.

He watches your excitement as you enter the circle.

And he can't help but blame himself for your look of despair as the spell he helped research fails.

He is so caught up in how he could have failed that he doesn't even notice you leave.

He spends the next three days closed up in his workshop, not eating or sleeping and barely drinking, researching how to fix the spell to not avail. It takes Vex (literally) slapping him out of it to shake him back to reality and get him to knock on your door with food for both of you.

"Hey, you probably need food just as much as me right now."

He spends the night cradling you close. He still blames himself but you help ease the ache.

In the morning, Percy's workshop was (thanks to Vex) firmly locked, but Percy never left your side long enough to notice.

Scanlan

Flirts with you on the first introduction.

"What did you do to get stuck in here? Other than being criminally hot."

Wants you to come along, you seem like a good time and it wouldn't be right to just leave you.

Loves the bright colors of your clothes and wants to hear all about your favorite music from back home.

Confidently misuses slang that you've mentioned.

Scanlan gets you wanting to go home, if his home was that cool he'd want to go back too.

He helps Vex barter for magic supplies for Gilmore's spell.

He kisses you hand before you step into the circle.

And watches as you nearly cry as the spell fails and you run off to your room.

He wants to follow you but is afraid of saying something wrong.

Later he comes up to your room with some wine and soup.

He plays a song on his lute as you eat, trying to make the perfect atmosphere.

"I know I don't say this much, but I'm lucky to have you as a friend, we all are."

Is a bit surprised when you ask him to stay (not like he'll show it) but would never say no. As you curl around him he plays with your hair and hums your favorite song.

The next morning is a rest day, Scanlan mandates it. You've dealt with far too much emotional stress to just go on like it's a normal day. And he doesn't let you forget about the found family you have now.

[nightingaletrash]

With a Little Help From My Friends 2/2

aaaaaaand part 2 of the Karlach Fix-It fic!

AO3

--

There was an acrid stink of sulphur that filled the workshop as Dammon melted down the unfinished infernal armour. The parts had been studiously dismantled, the leather and cloth being set aside should they be needed for another project some day, while the iron was carefully checked for impurities that might meddle with the mechanisms or prove too brittle even for a prototype. And while Nemeia couldn’t boast any real knowledge on the subject, it had evidently passed the test as Thulla had immediately handed roughly two thirds of the iron off to the smiths with the rest being thrown to one side for disposal. 

Meanwhile Zanner and Nickles worked on the parts that their people had salvaged from the Steel Watch. Their work was rhythmic in its own way; they would each pick up a piece or part, lift it to their ear, strike it delicately with a hammer and then lifted it to listen again. The difference was indiscernible to Nemeia, but it was enough for them to form a small series of piles - rejects to be discarded of, ones suitable for use in the prototype, ones to be melted down for later, and the ones they intended to save as they were for the final product.

Between the sweltering heat of the forge, the constant bustle, and the stink of rotten eggs, Nemeia and the others decided to wait outside until Dammon and the gnomes were done.

For some, the stink of fish and brine wouldn't be an improvement over the sulphur, and the sun still beat down with its warm summer rays, and while the cool sea breeze more than made up for it, the sudden relative calm left open air to think and the ghost of Karlach began to buzz in her ears once more.

What was the point? I’m still dying. I’m dying. I’m going to die!

The anguish burned in her ears as her chest tightened. She reached over her shoulder to grab her violin, as if tuning it would push the memory away. It was done. Gortash was dead, and now they were going to fix what he had done as best as they could. It wouldn’t be the same as getting her heart back, but it had to be better than dying.

You’ll just keep going, won’t you, Karlach accused. Watching the stars. Warming your hands on the campfire. Dancing, eating, making fucking love all night - all of it, all of it!

Her fingers trembled as she turned the pegs to tighten the strings, and she had to force away the crushing sensation in her chest because this wasn’t about her and her feelings. It was about Karlach. Karlach who had watched as Astarion struck down Cazador, saw Shadowheart reclaim her family from Viconia DeVir, and witnessed Wyll defy Hell itself to rescue his father from the Iron Throne and Mizora both. They all confronted the ones who had controlled and abused them, and they had all emerged from the other side a little less broken, a little more whole, with their lives finally back in their own hands after so many years at their mercy.

And now Karlach had finally faced her monster and had come away with nothing.

She had every right to be furious. They’d taken her heart. Taken everything. And as far as she knew, no one had any idea on how to get even a shred of it back.

What am I supposed to do now?

Live.

If Dammon and the gnomes did their job, all she’d ever have to do was live. Then she could watch the stars, warm her hands on the fire, sing and dance and eat and make love all night - she could do it all. Whatever she wanted, wherever she wanted. Even if she’d never have her heart back, she would have everything else.

The thought was enough to finally give her fingers their steadiness back, and she drew her bow and played a few notes to test her tuning. One string was much too tight, so she loosened it a little, and then began to play in earnest.

It was a tune she only vaguely recalled from her childhood. From a play when her mother took her on a trip to Neverwinter. It had been a story about a hero on a journey to try and stave off a sudden and inevitable death caused by a curse placed on them by a sorcerer. Of course, the hero had succeeded in the end, but had learned that there was much value in living life to the fullest instead of chasing tomorrow’s glory.

What had struck her as odd even then was the lack of a battle between the hero and the villain. Not five minutes after the curse was placed on the hero, their saviour arrived and abruptly killed off the villain altogether.

It had seemed an odd choice at the time. Why not give the hero the chance to be victorious over the one who had doomed them in the first place? Especially when it remained unclear as to how they were going to save themselves. At least, her young mind had thought, if the hero goes down, they know they’re taking their enemy with them.

Well she understood now. There was no satisfaction in destroying someone when you were just as doomed as they were. And that moment of understanding would have been a very hard sell for a show that was meant to be for children.

But the tune of the closing number had lurched into her mind unbidden, so that was what she chose to play. It was simple and catchy, and that was all it needed to be. Anything to stave off the idea that something might still go wrong and bring their plan crashing down around them.

As she played, the others took advantage of the brief chance to rest. In the sudden rush to try and get all the pieces for the new engine, that fight seemed so far away now. Like it had been days ago rather than hours, though the fact that his hand was still whole and intact in her pack rather than wasting away into sludge said otherwise. 

Maybe once they’d dealt with this Murder Tribunal business, she’d let Karlach decide what to do with it and all of its gaudy jewellery. A final ‘fuck you’ to the bastard that had ruined her life.

Two hours were whiled away before Barcus emerged from the workshop, covered in soot and grease stains yet beaming broader than Nemeia had ever seen before.

“It’s perfect,” was all he said before beckoning them to come back inside.

They filed back into the workshop where Dammon and the gnomes were all admiring their hard work, and frankly, if Nemeia hadn’t known better, she might have thought that it was the real thing. 

It was a contraption unlike any she had ever seen. The infernal casing was opened up to show the inner mechanisms that had been crafted as close to the shape of a real heart as was physically possible, the chambers all contracting and relaxing in rhythm with one another as the mechanisms whirred and the pistons pumped.

Yet as strange as it was, it was beautiful in its own way. Even though it was just a prototype, and even though she was no artificer, she could see the sheer amount of love that had gone into its creation. The perfection in the curves, the polished shine of the steel and iron, even its presentation on the table showed just how proud they all were of their work. 

They had made this for Karlach. They did this to save her life. And they’d made it beautiful.

“We altered the design to make use of the existing framework that Karlach’s current engine uses,” Dammon explained. “If we ripped out everything that Zariel put in her, we’d have to rebuild her entire chest cavity, and that would leave her out of commission for months. So these-” He indicated to the pipes that tapered off and connected to nothing. “-will snap into place. It’ll be almost as fast as installing her upgrades, which puts much less stress on her body.”

“Dammon’s been vital to the process,” Barcus said brightly. “His understanding of infernal engineering allows us to account for everything this new engine will need to be capable of to cause as little disruption as possible.”

Dammon chuckled and shook his head. “You say that as if I didn’t nearly throw out all of your hard work for the sake of the infernal casing. If it weren’t for Thulla’s suggestion, it might have come to blows.”

“The heat build-up it could have caused was a very serious issue,” Zanner mused as he poured himself a cup of coffee - when was the last time he’d slept anyway?

“But it’s all been resolved now,” Barcus said reassuringly. “We need to run a couple of stress tests, but more for our own state of mind than anything.”

“Meaning you can go fetch the infernal iron,” Dammon added, “and Karlach. I’m sure she’ll want to see this for herself. Maybe make her own suggestions.” He added the last not with a cheeky grin and Nemeia giggled at the thought.

“I can imagine an engraving that says ‘Property of Karlach Cliffgate - fuck off Zariel’ would be her first thought.”

“If she doesn’t think to ask for that, I’ll definitely suggest it,” he laughed. “Go on now. We’ll get to work on the stress tests. Once we know for sure that it won’t burst into flames, and that Karlach is firmly on board, then we can get to work on putting the real thing together.”

[]

For all their talk of camping, the ‘camp’ that the party had set up in the city was actually just everyone cramming themselves into Nemeia and Kyreth’s family home and making do with the squeeze. But according to the message on the cabinet in the hallway, the others had all decided to clear out so that Karlach could have some space to herself.

It seemed that her dark mood had accompanied her home then.

While the others drifted off to tend to their own devices, Nemeia headed upstairs to her bedroom. Karlach was inside as predicted, sitting on the edge of the bed with a picture held gently by the tips of her fingers. 

It was a small charcoal portrait of Nemeia and Kyreth when they were both much younger. Nemeia had been maybe five or six when she saw the artist on the corner of the street, being paid to draw passers-by, and she’d begged her mother for one.

He’d been delighted by her enthusiasm, and it had remained on her bedside table ever since.

Nemeia knocked on the door softly before stepping inside, and Karlach looked up. 

“Hey soldier. You’re back.” She smiled though it didn’t quite meet her eyes, and she set the picture to one side.

“Still ‘soldier’ after all this time, huh?” Nemeia asked, only letting a small tease slip into her voice as she shut the door behind her. She noticed that Clive had moved from one end of the bed to the other but said nothing about it.

Karlach just shrugged. “Old habits. Did I miss anything while I was off having a sulk?”

“Oh if only you knew,” Nemeia laughed. “I did miss you though. It’s less fun without you around.”

“I missed you too,” Karlach sighed. She shook her head. “You know, I wouldn’t have bothered falling in love with you if I knew that saying goodbye was going to be so hard.”

Nemeia just smiled and moved to sit beside her.

“But what if you didn’t have to say goodbye? Not now, not tomorrow, not for a long, long time. What then?”

She sighed defeatedly.

“Don’t Nem. I’m trying to stay here, now, alive while I can. But it’s like my mind is being whittled down to the black hole that should’ve been our future.”

She ran a hand through her messy black and red mane, sparks flying off of her fingers as they brushed over the metal clasps in her braids. But Nemeia didn’t even flinch.

“But we have a future. A beautiful one,” she said firmly, unable to hold back her smile. “Maybe a short and violent one depending on how things go, but its there.”

And the smile caught Karlach’s eye. She frowned, her glowing amber eyes narrowing as if she was trying to figure out what the trick was.

“Alright… and why is that? Because if it turns out that you’re just that doppelganger freak Orin here to mess with me, I will literally split you in half with my axe,” she said sternly.

At that, Nemeia had to laugh and she shook her head.

“Karlach. You don’t have to die,” she said, unable to stop the smile spreading over her face at all. “After you left, one of the Gondians found us and said they’d found a way to help. Them, the Iron Hands, and even Dammon - they put their heads together and figured out a way.”

A beat passed as Karlach stared at her, utterly gobsmacked. Her eyes were wide and her jaw had gone slack. And then her engine threw off a telltale blue flare, like a heart skipping a beat. She was dumbstruck, unable to speak. Her mouth flapped a few times with effort, but no words came out. So Nemeia threaded her fingers through her’s and explained it all, from Lowa finding them at the bridge, to the prototype that Dammon and the others had built in just a few hours.

As she finished, there were tears pouring down Karlach’s face. Steam rolled off of the tracks, but the heat of her body couldn’t evaporate them fast enough as they raced down her cheeks and dripped onto their joined hands.

When she finally found her voice, she whispered, “...are you real? Or am I having a really cruel daydream right now?”

“I’m real, darling,” Nemeia pressed. “I’m real, it’s real, it’s happening. The only reason I didn’t come tell you straight away was because I had to be sure that it would work, or I’d never forgive myself for getting your hopes up just for them to get snatched away again. Not after what happened with Gortash.”

She disentangled one of her hands to cup Karlach’s face and thumbed away her tears.

“I know it’s not your real heart. If I could get that back and give it to you so that you’d never need another engine ever again, I would do it in a heartbeat. If I ever got a single Wish, it would be all I could ever wish for. But if I can’t do that, then the least I can do is make sure that you get to live on your terms. Not in Hell, but here, where you belong.”

At that, Karlach laughed wetly and shook her head.

“Are you actually sorry that you can’t just find my heart and put it back? Babe, it probably got eaten and shat out by imps years ago,” she said bluntly. “All I want is to live, and you and everyone else - you’re giving me that! Gods, I could kiss you, but if I do that now, I won’t be able to stop myself, and then what will Dammon and the others use to make my new engine? Besides, there’s gonna be so much time for kissing because… because I’m going to live…!”

And in a stark contrast to the utter despair and fury that had befallen her that afternoon, her face was now brimming with unbridled joy as she leapt to her feet and dragged Nemeia up with her.

“I’m going to live!” she shouted joyfully as she began to bounce and dance around the room. “I’m going to live, darling! We’ll get a house and a goat, and fuck it, you still want kids? I’m fucking down! Fuck yeah! We’ll get to travel! Oh man, we have to go to Athkatla, you missed out on so much when fuckface tried to possess you, and I can show you all the places we went, and hey, do you think Gale would let us stay at his place if we went to Waterdeep? I bet he’d let us stay, and he’d make us dinner and show us all the amazing stuff there is. I’ve always wanted to go to the Yawning Portal, and I’d love to get a proper cuddle with Tara too! And we can go on adventures with Wyll and kick some evil butt, I bet Minsc would love to come along for that! Ooh, and we can go on so many more dates!”

Laughter filled the room as they danced haphazardly together, the unbridled joy exploding out of them as Karlach’s eyes and chest glowed blue with excitement. The tears had all dried up. If there were more today, they would be tears of joy. But for now, there was only laughter and shouting and dancing.

And by the time they were done, Karlach was out of breath from shouting so much. Even as she giggled and spun around, clutching Nemeia to her chest, her voice was hoarse from use. But eventually she slowed down and pulled back, grinning from ear to ear.

“So, when do we get this new doo-hickey in my chest so we can put this Gortash bullshit behind us?”

“As soon as they’re done building it. Which they need infernal iron for.” Nemeia grinned. “So let’s grab what we have and head on down there, shall we?”

[]

As it turned out, the real engine was the ultimate test of patience for everyone involved. After Dammon performed a cursory check of Karlach’s engine, he determined that it would be a while longer before it gave out and recommended that the Gondians get some rest after their long ordeal under Gortash’s thumb - he and the Iron Hands would work together to get the parts and pieces made for assembly, and when everyone was rested and ready and at the peak of their ability, they’d bring it altogether to create the perfect engine for Karlach.

As it turned out, the best way to keep Karlach preoccupied until it was ready was to encourage her to write a list of all the things she would do once the Absolute was defeated.

To no one’s surprise, she wrote ‘Nem’ at the very top in bold letters.

“Do I need to cast Silence on your room tonight?” Gale jabbed when he glanced over at the list.

“Oh mate, every night,” Karlach laughed. “Probably wanna put one on them two as well while you’re at it.” She nodded in Kyreth and Halsin’s direction with a smirk. “I bet they’re just as bad.”

“Worse,” Kyreth said bluntly with a cat-like grin, and Nemeia pulled a face.

“Please do not make me confront the fact that those two have sex,” she groaned as she wrapped her arms around Karlach from behind. “Now what else do you want to do, besides me?”

Karlach tilted her head and made a pensive looking face as she tapped her pen against her chin. “Oi Shadowheart!”

The room burst into laughter as Nemeia slapped Karlach on the bicep playfully.

“Don’t even joke, you!” she said with a grin.

Shadowheart sprawled across her armchair with a dramatic sigh. “Ah, and to think I was this close to finally getting a piece of that big, beefy tiefling.”

“Dream on Princess, I was here first,” Nemeia laughed. “Now come on, seriously. You mentioned Athkatla yesterday. What do you want to do when we go there?”

“Whatever you do, don’t bring Lae’zel. She’ll murder your child before your very eyes,” Shadowheart interjected, earning an angry ‘chk’ from Lae’zel as she dragged a whetstone down her blade.

“The imp was returned to the Hells, not murdered,” she hissed derisively. “If you truly want it back so badly then by all means, delve into Avernus to rescue Bing Bong.”

“You set him on fire and splatted him on cobblestones.”

“He should have tried harder not to hit the cobblestones.”

“You threw him-!”

“Girls.” 

Both of their mouths snapped shut as Kyreth eyed them with the imperious gaze of a mother and the argument came to an abrupt end. And just in time too, as there was a sudden rapping on the door. Kyreth stepped out into the hall to answer it.

“Ah, Lowa. This is about the engine?”

“Yes! Dammon’s doing some last stress tests, but its ready to go otherwise. We can do installation whenever Karlach’s ready-”

She barely finished the sentence before Karlach had leapt out of her chair and barged out to the front door with all the energy of an overexcited puppy.

“I’m ready now, let’s go, go, go!”

Everyone was up and moving without any instruction, doing their best to keep Karlach from immediately taking off without them while they locked up the house and shouldered their weapons. It was easier said than done because she just couldn’t seem to stop herself to the point that she started jogging in circles on the spot.

“Come on already, I’ll start carrying you all if it gets us there faster,” she groaned.

“It pays to be cautious when Shapechangers are on the loose, darling,” Astarion sighed. “Don’t want them rooting through our things while we’re gone. Imagine if they took Clive hostage next.”

“He’d fight them off, easy,” Karlach snorted, holding up her fists as if to demonstrate. “Now hurry up, let’s go!”

And they were off, heading down to the Gondian-Iron Hand workshop at the harbour. Karlach kept running ahead and having to wait for the rest to catch up, resulting in her bouncing on the balls of her feet impatiently. At least the passers-by seemed to find it amusing enough, judging from the bemused grins and giggles that followed them as they went.

When they reached the workshop, every last person who had pitched in on the engine was gathered in the main room with the fruit of their labour displayed on the table before them.

If Nemeia had thought the prototype was beautiful, then it was nothing compared to the real thing. It was sleek and compact, with the glowing infernal iron moulded into perfect shape for the casing. Everything was sleek and polished, and practically glowed in the lamp light, and everyone from engineer to alchemist to coffee-runner was beaming with pride as the party filed in.

Karlach was gobsmacked. With a quick glance for permission at Dammon - who nodded in assent - she stepped forwards to pick the engine up and examine it. It glittered from every angle. Everything fit together in a beautiful harmony, with so much love and care that nothing could be a more fitting tribute to its new owner. Then Dammon caught her attention and silently mimed opening it up with his hands. So she did so with an almost uncharacteristic care and gentleness, as if she was terrified to break it.

And there, on the heart inside, was an engraving that read:

Property of Karlach Cliffgate - fuck off Zariel.

“Well… fuck me,” she sniffed as tears welled up in her amber eyes.

“Do you like it?” Barcus asked tentatively, his mouth pressed into a thin line with nervousness.

“Like it? I love it,” she sobbed. 

She set it back down tenderly, then strode around the table and scooped him up into her arms in a fierce hug. For a moment he was caught off-guard, but returned the hug with a brisk firmness and a wobbly smile on his face. Then once she released him, she turned to Dammon and pulled him into a hug next.

“Thank you,” she sobbed. “For everything.”

He grinned as he wrapped his arms around her back and squeezed hard.

“Don’t thank me. It was Zanner’s idea in the first place.” He pulled back. “I just chipped in.”

But Karlach just shook her head. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have lived long enough to meet Zanner. Hell, I wouldn’t be able to touch anyone. You gave me so much already, and now you’re giving me the rest.” Her lip wobbled and her voice grew thick as she continued, “you’re giving me my whole life back.”

He squeezed her again and patted her shoulder before pulling away to give her the chance to rub the tears from her eyes. And when that was done, she continued with her hug train, giving a hug to every last person who had worked on her engine. The gnomes all looked a bit flustered at first, but otherwise were glowing with pride as the tiefling thanked each and every one of them.

When she was done, Dammon clapped her on the shoulder.

“Ready to get to work?”

She beamed brighter than the sun.

“So fucking ready, mate.”

[]

The house was packed to bursting that night, and the drinks were flowing. Wyll and Halsin had returned from a trip to the tavern, having procured three whole barrels of ale, and no one wasted any time in cracking them open and pouring out the drinks.

Karlach was the centre of attention with her new engine, despite Dammon’s repeated pleas for her to take it easy for a few hours at least. While no longer aflame with a hot orange flame glowing in her chest, her spirit was by no means reduced. If anything, she was more boisterous than ever. She bounded from room to room, hugging everyone she saw and dragging people out for dances more than once, and it didn’t seem like she was going to be slowing down any time soon.

Right now, Wyll was on the floor with her, both of them smiling and laughing and having the time of their lives as the alcohol flowed. Some of the Iron Hands had broken out into drunken singing, and the Gondians were taking the chance to just relax and enjoy themselves. Meanwhile Gale was in the kitchen, trying to figure out how much food he’d need to make to accommodate for everyone, and it seemed that Astarion had decided to ‘help’ - meaning he was hanging around and drinking wine while offering commentary. Shadowheart was once again in her armchair by the window, though this time with her own glass of wine, and she seemed more content with observing the festivities over joining in. The same could be said for Lae’zel who had slunk off upstairs to engage with martial exercises over chatter, though she appeared soon enough when Gale finally called for dinner to be served.

Halsin and Kyreth busied themselves in helping Gale with serving, doing their best to make sure that everyone got a portion, and soon enough, the noise died down to a general chatter as everyone settled in to eat.

By the time Dammon and the gnomes all departed, it was past midnight and it didn’t take long for everyone to decide that they were ready to retire for the night. There was a queue for the bathroom as usual, and nightly routines were carried out in short order before everyone shuffled off to their bunks for the night. But as Nemeia passed Gale as he stepped out of the bathroom, he winked at her discreetly before disappearing downstairs.

For a moment she was baffled, but upon opening and closing her bedroom door, she suddenly understood. The house outside of the room had suddenly fallen silent. No shuffling footsteps from downstairs or loud coughs from the other rooms. Just Nemeia and Karlach, who was sat on the bed humming to herself. 

Clive was perched on a chair in the corner with his back to the bed.

“Thinking of your boy as always,” Nemeia joked as she approached.

“Of course,” Karlach chuckled. “I would never forgive myself if he got scarred for life.”

She sat expectantly on the edge of the bed. Her whole face glowed with boundless delight as her lover cupped her face and tilted it back. Nemeia ran her thumbs along her jaw, taking in the beautiful sight of her love filled with joy and hope, with her whole life ahead of her.

Then, without warning, Karlach wrapped her arms around Nemeia’s waist, tipped back on the bed and pulled her down with her, cackling with glee as her lover squealed in surprise. She pressed her lips to the delicate pink neck, then to her jaw, up her cheek, over her nose, down the other side and finally reached her mouth.

They melted into each other, hands finding purchase on shoulders or in hair, tugging their bodies together into a tangled mess. They rolled over, with Karlach taking her usual place on top of Nemeia where they paused briefly to gaze at one another.

A beat passed before Nemeia broke the silence.

“I love you so much,” she said softly.

“Well that’s good,” Karlach replied cheekily before she leaned in, her lips just barely grazing over Nemeia’s as she added, “because I plan on loving you for the rest of my life.”

The rest of her life… that sounded beautiful indeed.

[ashleander]

PIZZA TOWER SPOILERS AHEAD!

The following includes content from the Noise update! Do not click if you haven’t finished it yet! This sums up my experiences with it! So prepare to see me ramble how much I LOVE this update! Feel free to skip this post entirely if you’re here for my art!

~MY THOUGHTS ON THE NOISE UPDATE~

Hey, I’m back again! I just wanted to share my thoughts with the update! I will eventually try to make an art piece about it soon! There might be multiple! This update can’t leave my damn brain.

General Thoughts on the Noise:

We finally get to see the Noise as a playable character! This update made like the Noise even more! There’s too many screenshots to count. I think he’s now one of my favorites! I can totally see his personality and quirks throughout his sprites! God, he’s such a piece of shit and I love him for it! I love how he breaks a lot of the rules here (I’m not going to list it, you can see for yourself). I also think it was cool to see the entire game just being played as a movie but Noise is the “star” of the show (as shown in the ending screen). Also, you couldn’t tell how happy I was seeing Noisette having more of a role here! Grahhh I love her so much! Fuck I gotta draw these two together more! They’re way too cute! What a fun and silly update! I might draw them next!

Playing as the Noise:

Getting used to this guy’s moveset took me a while! He demands significantly more button inputs than everyone else. He can also feel quite fast and slippery! I definitely got bumped into a wall many times after he finishes his skateboarding bounce move (no not the one where you have to press the grab button) But I have to admit, once you get used to the little tricks he has then you should be fine! His transformations also play very differently so that’s also something to consider.

For my first play through, I decided to aim for all the secrets and treasures! I already know where everything is at this point since I practiced it multiple times! I managed to get three P ranks (John Gutter, Fun Farm, Gnome Forest). I wasn’t used to his moveset yet so a few levels in World 4/5 were only A ranks. I aimed for the secrets and Gerome but I didn’t take the second lap.

The bosses were also fun to try! Definitely easier to P rank than Peppino’s for sure! I just didn’t care much about the ranks the first time I played it. I gotta say the end part gave me chills! I don’t know it felt trippy for a moment!

I ended the first game with 93% damn Noise fuck you and then I replayed to get the 101%. Seeing Pillar John in a Noise costume was unexpected but funny!

After practicing his moveset (& attempting to get the Tower Guy clothes which I STILL haven’t because some levels are a pain in the ass), I was able to P rank the rest of the levels! I also got the funny Snick outfit. He turned out to be faster than I thought. I think he’s now my favorite character to play in Pizza Tower! Oh and there’s swap mode! Pretty neat feature! I don’t have much to say about it. Seeing Peppino’s house was cool though… I also had to tally Peppino because I didn’t feel like doing the chef tasks again.

But yeah pretty cool update. The devs cooked on this one and the music’s great! Can’t wait to see where it’s going to head next!

[greyias]

At long last...

baby girl has finally fell ass over tea kettle asleep

A non-comprehensive list of things Ari has accomplished on this longest of days:

Started investigating the Open Hand Temple murders in earnest including interviewing everyone, speaking with the dead, and generally doing 1000x better as a detective than a flying elephant

Located the crypt underneath the temple

Freed the soul of a cursed monk by personally breaking Shar's laughing curse by pure willpower

Found the hidden tunnels underneath the temple and fought a bunch of shapeshifters on the trail of the serial killer

Got drug into the middle of a turf war between two criminal factions

Gave herself the alias Daisy Dewdrop Fluffington to try and outwit a Steel Watchman.

Nearly got arrested and was saved by the Ironhand Gnomes

Found Barcus again! Whose boyfriend tried to rope them into some light domestic terrorism

Ran into some of Astarion's "siblings" who fucked off before we could talk to them

Found another victim of the serial killer, found out it was the serial killer's mama

Visited a brothel, where everyone came onto Ari, and the incest twins tried to convince her and Gale to have an orgy while Gale nearly expired on the spot

Talked to the most useless flying elephant ever and got a pass into the lower city

Accidentally wandered into fantasy!ao3, aka the Elminster's Sexy Library

Astarion kept rolling nat20s on locked doors in a brothel, one of which contained a nymph and a surprise!mindflayer

The nymph gave Ari a +d6 buff to all ability checks, saving throws, and attack rolls for the rest of the day

Talked to Raphael who perved out over the Crown of Karsus

Went with Jaheira to talk to some Harpers and got jumped by more shapeshifters

Did battle with an evil blob disguised as a cow

Got invited to Gortashs's coronation where Wyll had to confont some Daddy issues, Karlach had to not do a murder, and Ari learned they have a spy at camp

Talked to Counselor Florick who we're totes def going to break out of prison any day now (but surprisingly not this day)

Got ambushed by Mizora who decided she's going to just hang around our camp now just because

Went into the Lower City and was immediately beset by a newspaper lady who let them know the National Enquirer was going to to print a smear piece on us

Got banned from the National Enquirer

The one man vampire elf wrecking crew snuck into the National Enquirer to sabotage the presses, and in a fit of petty pique, stole everything not nailed down in the basement.

And then the editor's office for further measure. We're running dangerously low on spell slots at this point.

Talked to the thus far only non-useless member of the Flaming Fists who deputized us to find the serial killer

Talked to a bunch of murdered corpses (some quite sassy) all around the city, investigate some really sketchy ritualistic murders in some basements, and warned several still living potential victims to watch the fuck out.

After all that hard work went to a wine festival to unwind (and warn another murder victim) but PSYCH -- the wine of the intended victim was poisoned and we found our serial killer who dimension doored out leaving us to fight a bunch of his shapeshifting duplicates. Astarion is nearly one hit killed with a sneak attack (now he knows how it feels). The group survives by the skin of their teeth (and burning through scrolls and potions because we REALLY should fucking sleep now), but successfully save all the civilians at the wine festival

But now they have to run across town to a very sassy tailor who we already warned to close up shop but apparently he didn't listen. We arrive literally just in time to stop him from getting his throat slit (and save our Flaming Fist partner) from the serial killer and this seemingly endless well of shapeshifting accomplices

After a long and harrowing fight where every last spell slot is burned, and Ari has to actually use that extra Tasha's Hideous Laughter I was making fun of earlier for crowd control, the serial killer and accomplices are finally defeated and it seems the victims are safe

Ari & co stumble back to the Elfsong Tavern and rent a room, ready to collapse. Ari finally hits the button to long rest

EXCEPT SURPRISE -- Mizora says it's still plot time and tries to get Wyll to sell his soul forever and ever amen in order to have a shortcut to find his dad. Ari's like "we can do this without her" and encourages Wyll to break his pact.

Everyone acts like this is somehow the absolute worst thing and that Wyll has done the absolutely unthinkable and resigned the city to flames and death, and how could you do that to your father Wyll??? Your father would totes want you banished to the hells for eternity my god where is your moral center Wyll??? -- except for fucking Jaheira who was like "I'm pretty sure Wyll's dad wouldn't want his son to sell his soul in exchange for his safety"

Ari falls face first on a pillow in an actual bed for the first time in the game, and sleeps for an eternity. Who knows what the next day will bring

[thecampjuicebox]

Can I trouble you for a sneak peek at one of your WIPs, please?

Oh, absolutely! This one's been sitting in the drafts for quite some time and I pinky promise I'll start writing again soon.. Life has gotten absolutely out of hand and I'm trying to find my footing again. But pls enjoy this lil piece of an Astarion x Tav WIP 💕

Cold air wafts through the front doors of the Elfsong, patrons rushing around your quaint corner table with pints and plates in their hands to fill their bellies with much needed warmth. It's a pleasant sight, considering everything you've been through lately. The Elderbrain still looms in the back of your mind - waiting poised and ready to strike like a hungry newborn gnoll hunting its first meal. You've so little time left. Any moment now, tentacles could sprout from your face, your skin melting away and bones crackling into new shapes to fit your Ilithid form. It's a horrifying idea, truly. One that's tossed about so calmly amongst everyone you meet with the same affliction. And still you sit in a dusty old tavern surrounded by tieflings and elves and gnomes, all scared of the same thing. Dying. Being alone. Losing the ones they hold dear to the grotesque fate of becoming a mindflayer. The way your thoughts linger on the subject makes your stomach churn. Hot bile bubbles in your belly and you settle into your seat with a shudder of discomfort, head tilting back between your shoulder blades to hopefully choke back the sick that threatens the soft tissue in your throat.

"Hungry, darling?"

His voice snaps you from your trance and you sit up quickly. Hungry? Gods, no. Forcing the sweetest smile you can, you straighten your posture, only to crumple over onto the table in front of you with exhaustion.

"Anything but.."

The silver haired spawn sat across from you reaches out to pet your messy hair away from your face, a sympathetic chuckle slipping past his parted lips. It's a gentle gesture - one you're sure he's not fully comfortable with yet, but he's trying and that's all that matters to you in this moment. You lift your head once more and grin at him with half lidded eyes.

"You?"

Your question makes one of his eyebrows quirk upward and his normal disinterested expression twist into an all too familiar devious smirk. Ah, you know this look well.

"Always."

This isn't a surprising answer. Nor did the tone that he delivered it with surprise you. With a grin, you shake your head and rest your chin on the palm of your hand, your elbow holding your head steady as you stare at the spawn before you. Fuck, he's beautiful. His curls frame his pointed ears the same way silk curtains frame a grand window in the most lavish of mansions. And his eyes. You could get drunk on the wine tone of his eyes alone. A scoff brings you back to reality and you blink. "You're staring again, darling."

[thedragonagelesbian]

Baldur's Gate 3 Tav Ask List also multiples of 10 for Cyrus <3

:DDD (answering for Pallybarb Cyrus since he's the one I've finished the game with)

BG3 Tav ask list

10. What was your Tav like as a child?

Cyrus was the joy of his parents' lives as they struggled to raise him on the run from Malcolm's archfey warlock patron. He never fussed or complained even as they were constantly on the move up and down the Sword Coast. At 16 (still very much a child by elf standards), he even took his father's death in stride, steeling himself against his grief so he could provide for himself and his mother.

20. Finally, what does your Tav feel as the Nautiloid crashes? Are they scared? Are they thinking of a way to survive?

In Fantasy High, there's a wizard with a frog familiar described as having exactly two moods: 'happy to be here gang' and 'mm i'm not sure about this'. Those aren't Cyrus' only two moods, but he's pretty unflappable so long as no one else's life is on the line, so even as he's like. ostensibly hurtling to his death, his attitude is one of 'well this isn't ideal...'

30. Who does your Tav think of when they go to sleep at the goblin/tiefling party? Or are they lucky and do they get to spend the night with the person they want?

He breaks up with Astarion, flirts with Gale, and chats with Karlach about how desperately they want to fuck each others' brains out. Cyrus maybe has enough wine in him to try touching her anyway & gives himself some third degree burns just to hold her hand for a heartbeat.

(He would've flirted with Wyll too, but Karlach's scene wasn't triggering if I didn't keep the Wyll interaction strictly platonic)

40. Did your Tav agree to kill the Guardian or did they go talk to them instead?

This version of Cyrus had absolute unwavering faith in the Guardian up until the negotiation with Raphael in Sharess' Caress and the Emperor forcing the truth of their agreement from his mind afterward.

50. Does your Tav save the tieflings & gnomes?

Yep! I savescummed so hard to get them all out but yes.

60. Did you clear Moonrise Towers of the shadow curse?

Yes!! I've mentioned this briefly before, but rescuing Thaniel and Oliver is the very first thing Cyrus does after breaking his oath. The scene I have in my head is Halsin feeling like Cyrus losing his oath is yet another casualty of the shadow curse, another good thing lost to his mistakes. But Cyrus promises him that they're going to fix it right now together, and in the portal fight, he debuts his new oathbreaker channel divinity where you can make an undead creature your ally. For him, it's a moment of realizing that he hasn't lost as much as he thought and that these new powers can still be used for good, despite knowing he'll carry a shard of this shadow in his soul for the rest of his life. For Halsin, it's a moment of profound hope and potential. The mists parting for the first time.

I wish they could kiss about it right then and there but they get around to it eventually.

70. Does your Tav make a deal with Raphael?

Yes. 8 wisdom strikes again, Karlach was understandably very pissed with him when she found out.

80. Does your Tav free the slaves from Steel Watch Foundry? Do they side with the Gondians or with Wulbren?

Cyrus was really on team 'blow everything up' until meeting Zanner, at which point the plan became 'save the Gondians and THEN blow everything up'. Sorry, Wulbren, the Ironhands are Barcus' now.

90. Do they betray the Emperor/Orpheus/their companions for the Absolute?

Nope, and like I get why that option is there but it does feel a little silly how many times the game presents you with the thought during what is more or less a strictly lawful good run sdfoijapfsd

100. Did Karlach get upgraded? Did she turn Illithid? Did she return to Avernus? If so, did Tav join her, or Wyll, or both?

Yes, Karlach got upgraded, no Cyrus never sold or let go of a single piece of infernal iron after meeting her (DID sell a scrap of it to Volo for some health potions before recruiting her and felt absolutely awful about not realizing how important it was).

After all is said and done with the Netherbrain, on the docks of the harbor of their hometown, Cyrus is 100% ready to let Karlach go. It's hard and it hurts, but if there's anything that breaking his oath taught him, it's that you have to let go sometimes, and he can't bear to ask her to return to Avernus just to spare his feelings, and he's prepared to rage and hold her through the whole thing.

...And then Wyll makes one last plea for her to come to Avernus with him.

Cyrus hesitates. Assures Karlach that he would follow her no matter where she goes, and Karlach chooses to go to Avernus.

In my head, there's a quick & passionate goodbye to Halsin before Cyrus, Karlach, and Wyll all rush off to the House of Hope as Karlach realizes that what scared her most about returning to Avernus might have been the possibility of being alone again-- and that her husband and her best friend aren't going to let that happen.

...That being said.

There's a lot else that's scary about Avernus. And I have a /real/ axe to grind with in-game (and, to a minor and very petty extent, fandom) presentation of this ending.

Like. There's a Zariel statblock in Descent into Avernus. We know exactly how powerful she is-- and it's powerful enough to grind three unprepared level 12 adventurers beneath her flaming fallen angel heel. The way the Avernus ending is presented, especially now with the epilogue, Karlach's fear of being forced back into the Blood War seems unfounded, because the worst thing that happens to her, Wyll, and her LI is they have to spend like a year fighting fiends nonstop. Which still sucks as a way to live, but the game is much more interested in it being BadassTM and CoolTM than lingering even on this milder form of sucking. In my opinion, it completely rips all the stakes out of the choice itself, because Karlach dying is less of a legitimate narrative choice if the alternative is just... Yeah you have to kill a bunch of fiends, but you literally find the magic solution to everything in fucking six months anyway, so??????

Hells, I was kind of hoping for Halsin to have some negative and unresolved feelings about Cyrus ditching him, just so there would be some sense of consequence for the decision.

And I realize that the narrative complexity I'm seeking won't fit into the minuscule square hole labeled 'ending cutscene & epilogue dialogue' but maybe Larian should've kept working on the game long enough to make fixing Karlach's heart part of it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So. I'm making my own consequences. In my version of things, Karlach, Cyrus, and Wyll have the House of Hope as a safe haven, but only to the extent that it can be protected, defended, and kept hidden from Zariel, which is further complicated by Wyll still being in a pact with Mizora. I need to keep marinating on the details, but some broad ideas are (a) Cyrus getting exposed to demon ichor and dealing with the consequence of that (growing a tail); (b) rescue mission after Karlach gets kidnapped to be taken back to Zariel; (c) I want Dammon to give SOMEONE an infernal iron prosthetic limb... probably Cyrus. Infernal heart + infernal hand??? I think it's cute at least; (d) trying to get Wyll out of his pact (again) (given our average of 11 int and 10 wis, this can ONLY go well)

[radama-zard]

Dungeons & Drabbles 2023

Day 9 - Lie

(Still behind, v much sooo. But I'm writing and that counts for something!)

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

Chetney & Fresh Cut Grass

Rare was a day when any of the Hells seriously fought with one another. Despite the powder kegs they all arguably were, inter party conflict was something they tended to avoid. So to have his otherwise calm evening broken by the sounds of barked out shouts and doors slamming… well, Chetney couldn't help his curiosity.

Not that he’d needed to go far, apparently. Just three steps in, Fresh Cut Grass came whirling around the corner, knocking right into the elderly gnome and sending them both crashing to the ground.

“Fuck!” Chetney cried out, scowling as head collided violently with the floor. “What where you’re goin-”

Oh. Well snap, shit was seriously fucked, wasn't it? Fresh Cut Grass wasn't even moving, not a word of frantic apology or anything. The gilded bot just lay there, almost concerningly so. With a hissed grunt Chetney pulled himself up, shuffling over to his friend’s side and offering their face plate a half hearted poke.

“You alive there, Letters?”

No response.

Weird. It wasn't like them to leave others in the lurch, to leave a chance for concern or worry. Not that Chetney was either of those! Not yet, at least. Nah, not while those peepers of theirs were still shining a bright, sunny blue.

So, with a slight shrug, he stepped to the side, sliding down the nearest wall and letting himself come to rest beside Fresh Cut Grass’ unresponsive form. Calloused old fingers dipped into his work belt, pulling free his favorite chisel and a nice bit of cherry oak.

“Heard some shoutin’ and shit earlier,” Chetney absentmindedly commented, after a minute's silence. “Are you and Ashton beefing? ‘Cause that was one heck of a door slam! I could feel the timber creaking, weeping for my tender embrace!”

Finally, movement! Fresh Cut Grass seemed to… pull into themself, head rolling to the side, his already unreadable face disappearing out of sight.

“Takin’ that shit as a yes,” he continued, pausing mid carve to playfully bap the morose aeormaton with the butt of his knife. “Sulking won't make him less pissy at you, Letters. You get up off your ass! Do something! You can't just lie there, sulking like a piece of rotting birch! Your chassis might be made of disgusting metal, but inside you've got the heart of a mighty oak! So get up and fuckin’ fix shit!”

There was a beat of silence, a moment of nothing where Chetney almost felt that his speech had failed. His wonderfully impassioned speech, if you were to ask him.

And then, at least, a reply.

“I… I can’t get up.”

Oh.

Laughter, rough and wheezing, as Chetney grabbed Fresh Cut Grass by the arm and yanked him back up onto his wheel, bringing tears of mirthful joy to his wrinkle lined eyes.

“Did you seriously waste all that time lying there ‘cause you couldn't get up?!”

“Hey! Don't laugh at me, Chet!”

Chetney only laughed harder, before slapping his metallic bud upside the head. He grinned as Fresh Cut Grass yelped, rubbing the back of his head with an indignant little huff.

“What was that for!”

“For wasting time that could have been spent fixin’ shit. Why aren't you chasin’ his hot headed ass down and smoothing shit over?”

“I…” Fresh Cut Grass faltered, hands wringing nervously before him. “Ashton- We had a real big fight. I don't- What if he doesn't wanna see me, Chet?”

At that, Chetney could only scoff.

“Bitch has a soft spot for you bigger than the mother fuckin’ moon! You’re seriously worried he's done with ya?”

“... Maybe? … Do you really think he’s-”

“GO."

There was a growl to his voice, deep and wolven, that had Fresh Cut Grass jolting and instinctively nodding.

“I- Alright! I’ll give it a try! Thanks, Chetney!”

With that, they were rolling away, leaving just Chetney alone once more to watch him retreating. There was a smile upon his lips, rare in its softness and warmth as he let his gaze drop back down to his carving, the angular form of Fresh Cut Grass ever so slowly coming to life in the groves and nics of the wood.

“Aaah, to be young at heart again…”

[rottenbrainstuff]

Bg3 playthrough: exploring the underdark, Dhourn + friends

(Spoilers)

Wow this area is so dangerous, haha! I never thought I’d need to rest just from walking around. Dangerous but SO PRETTY! I took a million screenshots of my tav backlight by all the glowing mushrooms and the beautiful sussur tree. Plus now I’ve figured out how to not get blown up by the red mushrooms so I’m navigating much better.

I am playing the game on easy, but you know what, I am actually thinking I just may switch to medium. I’m actually finding the fights a bit TOO easy now. The underdark monsters are scary and tougher than the ones on the surface, but I feel like it’s not much fun if I can kill everyone in one round.

At least the spectator fight took a couple rounds longer. Holy smokes I didn’t know that fight was there at all, total surprise. Oh wow I have triggered a cut scene while I walk through an area full of… ominous drow statues… I’m sure that everything is fine….. Oh shit.

I was kind of expecting that fight to be a bit harder. TBF it WAS really hard in the beginning when I didn’t know how to approach the fight, and didn’t want to attack the un-petrified drow at all. In the end though I found dissonant whispers works quite handy on the spectator, and I realized hitting the drow exactly once will break their charm and they will fight with me. After knowing that, we smashed that spectator like a birthday pinata.

And what was my reward? A conversation with the most insufferable little dickhead I have seen in the game so far, lmao! Dhourn was absolutely hilarious. What a stupid little piece of shit. I love how he’s going on and on about all this bullshit that the player doesn’t even have a clue about, basically just having a conversation with himself while you watch. “What? You didn’t rescue me, I ALLOWED you to ASSIST me.” Little jerkoff. I absolutely LOVED how indignant he was that a rival brought a spectator to the negotiations, because it messed up the ambush that he had planned. Oh, drow. I wonder if my tav missed this kind of petty drama, lol. And no matter what you do**, in the end he fights you. Which is… I mean yes, this is all the thanks I get from this asshole, but also hilarious, like, my dude you have a quarter the HP that the WEAKEST member of my party does, plus that spectator took a chunk out of you, what did you think was going to happen here?

**there is only one single way (that I could see) to have Dhourn SURVIVE the spectator fight and NOT attack you when it’s done, and that one single way is to be / be disguised as a female drow. His dialogue won’t be too much different, he’ll still rattle on and even if you are a female drow he can barely keep his contempt contained, but you do get some extra dialogue options and the ability to convince him to back off. In the end though, it didn’t make much roleplay sense - why would my character have known before the fight to disguise himself as a female drow? and fuck that guy anyways, he’s insufferable, so we ended up fighting him and I don’t feel bad about it.

By the beautiful, beautiful sussur tree, we ran into one of the rivals he mentioned, Filro the Forgotten. He’s a sad little guy singing a sad little song in his camp that’s covered with hook horror shit, lmao. It was sad to beat him up, but I couldn’t figure out a way to talk to him, and online seemed to confirm that there isn’t. He’s probably just as insufferable as Dhourn though so I imagine no great loss there. Damn, poor little guy though. If you creep up close enough without aggoring him, you can hear him singing. He gets quite unhinged during the fight. If you speak to his corpse without disguising yourself, he will accuse you of killing his beloved. (which I don’t… THINK? was the hook horror I killed? He sings a song about a Melinda, his true love, who has gone missing / left him / died. I think the poor guy has just gone nuts. Internet suggests Melinda is the dead gnome at the camp but personally I don’t agree, his corpse will say the hook horrors brought him gnome meat to eat and I assumed the gnome was just… a snack. Internet people are saying the stupidest things about this game anyways so I don’t trust a single person on any forum that I see) Poor old guy.

Blurg and his uh, unusual associate were quite the surprise!

Then I found the kuo toa colony. Astarion gives a 5 approval if you kill their false god, which causes them to start worshiping you. I’m sure he thinks it’s fucking hilarious and he’s going to call my tav the great mahkloompah all the time now. Also spit take? Doni can write?? And has a dad somewhere??? PLEASE tell me I can find this poor kid’s dad and reunite them???? (please tell me when I meet Doni again I can write him a message?) God these tieflings make me so sad and I haven’t even got to the sad parts yet.

Fun things I have done so far with the spectator bottle:

Opened it in the druid grove right in front of my least favourite druid, very satisfying to watch those bastards fry.

Sicced it on that spectator by the temple.

Tried opening it at camp right beside Withers hoping to get a fun reaction out of him, but nope, nothing.

I’m having so much fun in the underdark. I’m really struggling though between the urge to go everywhere, see everything, do everything and rip through this game as fast as I can because everything is so cool and I want to see all the neat things that happen in act 2 and 3, and the urge to go slow, mill around, even reload and replay some scenes, take my time and slowly enjoy the shit out of it.

[saturnsorbits]

Mint not only made me a monsterfucker with this piece, they made me fall in love with him too.

An absolutely stunning dive into an original, D&D inspired work, Mint proves that their talent is unshaken in the face of originality. Creating one of the most intriguing and engaging characters, they have firmly cemented Obsidian Vyke at the centre of our hearts with this first installment of a two part piece.

We open with the scene setting. Our party, four strong, has come to rest – a fact we learn as Reader confesses that 'simply wearing the silk of your nightgown feels luxurious... Sleeping on down is going to feel obscure.' It is with this ease that we settle into the piece, sinking into it much like our Reader and Obi will into that down mattress a little later on. Mint uses both their wonderful descriptive skills, as well as the power of omission to create this little world. By focusing on the small, finer details and exposing to us the sensory and emotional qualities relating to their characters – they negate the need of overly excessive descriptions, allowing instead for the audience to fill in the gap and use their imaginations to fill in the blanks left in the setting. This is a wonderful technique and works to involve the audience in the piece, while also cutting out the unnecessary parts of the piece that could weigh it down.

With this wonderful setting, comes more insights into our characters. Although, we are immediately introduced to only two (Reader and Obi), the comments of the remaining party provide a myriad of clues that expose the rest of the piece. We're told of 'the two other members in [the] party... [becoming] fast friends... [and] quick... lovers', which not only entrenches us further into this world, while widening it, but provides a few very interesting hints. From this singular line, we learn of the other party members, true, we're also made privy to the potential sleeping arrangements and the alignments of potential romantic entanglements. Which leads us perfectly to: There's only one bed.

Mint's discussion and description of the dragonborn is stunning, leaving little to be desired. There is a romance there, one that can be felt both in his movements and words as we learn more about this wonderful man. The description of him undressing is endlessly intimate and delicate, both making us fall in love while describing the essence of Obi wonderfully: 'The dragonborn undoes the lacings of his leather outerwear using the sharpened tips of his claws, delicately catching them under and pulling. The motion is careful and patient, repeated until he can toss the garment into the room's only chair...' It's sexy, endlessly and it's easy to see what has peaked Reader's interest.

This same atmosphere is continued, enhanced and highlighted as we reach the scene in which curiosities rise. The battering of humour as Obi pokes fun at the rumours often spread of dragonborns, of him 'eat[ing] poor little gnomes', and 'enchant[ing] humans', which is quickly turned on its head with a sense of deepening intimacy as he confesses that he's 'had [his] own curiosities.' Mint truly knocks it out of the fucking park here, wrapping intimacy and romance and comfort into a wonderful package that proves beautifully drowning as we watch these two literally explore each others bodies – Obi's comment that Reader would 'do the same if [he] put [his] fingers inside' one of the defining moments at the pinnacle of this.

This piece is flawless and another piece of proof that Mint is one of the most astounding writers we're lucky enough to have here. Their control of atmosphere and character work is second to none, and here they are able to truly show off that talent. And damn, is it something to behold.

Kinktober: Monster Fucking

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons

After months of adventuring with your party, you can't help but be curious about a certain dragon born....

cw: cisfem reader, Monster fucking, OC x reader, fantasy racism (someone is not nice to dragonborn), biting, slight mention of bleeding, fingers in holes

PART ONE OF TWO

a/n: A very special thanks to @tyga-lily, who talked with me about her little dragonborn and made me fall in love with this concept and to @saetyrn9 who came up with his name :)

"The bath is free, Obi."

For how much a night costs, the room is nothing special, but any inn with running water is heaven sent. It’s been almost two months since anyone in your party has slept in a proper bed and your body can feel it. Simply wearing the silk of your nightgown feels luxurious at this point; sleeping on down is going to feel obscene.

"I'll be quick." Your party mate stands with a grunt, the day heavy on his joints. You almost want to tease him, but after this adventure, your knees are screaming too. It's hard enough for you to throw yourself on to the bed

Despite knowing him for the greater part of a year, you always forget how large the dragonborn is until he’s next to you. Towering over you with delicate horns and ridged crest, Obsidian Vyke -Obi, to his friends- is all black scales and teeth. The air crackles around him the way it crackles around all sorcerers, subtle yet wild, so it’s unfair that he’s also built wide. Thick biceps and a barrel chest: no magic user should be that muscular.

"Take your time." You watch him as he moves around the room, dipping around the singular bed and pulling his sleeping clothes from his travel sack.

"I'm sorry about this," Obi says, peering over his shoulder, "I know I'm not as nice to room with as Kiri."

The two other members in your party had been fast friends-- unfortunately, they were also quick to become lovers. Usually, that did not pose any issues to the group, but tonight, the inn only has two rooms available. It seemed cruel to separate the lovebirds, so you and Obi agreed to cohabitate for the night.

"I don’t mind sharing a bed with you." The idea gives you butterflies, this flitting, nervous energy. You trust the man with your life-- fuck, he’s saved your life in battle -- but something about sleeping next to him makes your skin goosepimple. "As long as you don't snore."

His eyes narrow in a smile. "I'll try my best."

The dragonborn undoes the lacings of his leather outerwear using the sharpened tips of his claws, delicately catching them under and pulling. The motion is careful and patient, repeated until he can toss the garment into the room's only chair.

It’s not that you don’t want to share a room with him. In fact, you think you want this a little too much. You're absorbed with all of his movements as he primps a bit, adjusting the hem of his shirt so it sits properly, running a palm over his crest, sliding off his traveler's boots. If you're lucky, his shirt will be next and you can catch a peek of the toned spance of his stomach.

"My lady," His teeth flash in the fire light, pearls against the deep, dark opalescent hues of his scales, "You're staring."

"Ah, I'm sorry!" He’s one to talk; you’ve felt his gaze following you for weeks now. That's the only reason you're thinking about him and his body.

And, using that logic, he's the only reason you bought that bodice ripper last week, the one starring a pretty red dragonborn and his human lover--

"Is there something in my teeth?" Obi teases. That earns him a giggle, but, when you don't respond, he exhales through his nose and moves closer. "We're rooming together tonight, so if there's any tension between us, I'd rather-"

"I heard a rumor," you blurt out.

He goes pale. "About me? What did Thyrll tell you?"

"No, about dragonborns in general."

Relief relaxes his features.

"And you just want to know if it's true?" There's a click in his voice as he laughs, something strange and inhumane, "It's okay. You can ask. Let me guess- I eat poor little gnomes? I enchant humans with my-"

"Is it... inside of you?"

The dragonborn pauses at that, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"

"Your..." You cannot believe you're about to say this, "Cock."

"Oh."

You scramble up, hands over your face as you head towards the door. You aren't sure where you're going to go in a nightgown, but anywhere else has to be better than here.

"Oh, I'm sorry! That was so rude of me."

A wall of muscle suddenly blocks your way. Those dexterous hands that you were admiring moments ago are now touching your shoulders, rubbing up and down affectionately.

"It's alright, my lady, I'm just... surprised." He smells like petrichor, something strangely earthy and yet unnatural clinging to his scales, and laughs like summer rain, "I think it's natural to wonder about different races, I just didn't think..."

His sharp eyes are dilated a bit, the pupils closer to almonds than slits as they bounce up and down your body.

"I've had my own... curiosities about others as well," he admits, "So, who am I to judge?"

Your spine prickles at that. Who exactly was he curious about? One of the elves in your party? The barmaid downstairs? Or is it you that the thinks about at night, cock in fist?

The dragonborn misreads the upset look on your face. "I promise that I am not cross with you. How about I answer your questions and you'll answer mine? No judgments."

You settle a bit. "If you're sure."

He smiles a draconic smile, all teeth and the smallest flick of his tongue.

"Of course I'm sure. I'm not embarrassed because my species is a bit different than yours."

You watch him for a long moment. He’s kind. A scoundrel at times, but kind. It's etched into his face, always reflected in his wide, chartreuse eyes.

"So, it is different,” you say carefully.

"It is."

“Very different?”

“When my cock is hard?” He says it so easily. Always proper, it makes you squirm to hear him curse, “No. But when I’m not, it is, in fact inside.”

"It's just... flat down there?"

"Yes- give me your hand."

You weave your fingers in between his without a second thought, but he just shakes his head and pulls away. Then, he takes your still open palm in his and brings it to his torso. The muscle there is just as firmed as you imagined and it's hard not to linger in once spot to appreciate it, Slowly, Obi guides your hand down, running it over the linen of his pants. Underneath, you can feel how it's slightly ridged with larger scales than the rest of his body and, subsequently, larger gaps form in between. It's just skin-- well, it's just scales. You're touching nothing technically intimate, but your heart races anyway, caught in your throat.

"See?" His voice has the edge of a tremble and, when you look up, you realize just how close you two have become. Practically chest to chest, his snout is only inches from your face, close enough that you can see how each individual scale slightly shifts in color as the fire dances. He seems to have realized too; dragonborn expressions are hard to read, but you don't miss how deep his breathing has become.

"It's nothing like touching a human, is it?" he mumbles, hand squeezing yours ever so slightly, “Not intimate at all.”

"Well." You curl your fingers up, clumsily feeling through the fabric, "Maybe a bit.”

The fire crackles in the fireplace. He breathes again, on the brink of a sigh, and you think he’s just as caught up in this as you are.

"Just a bit?" Heat radiates from him. If he were human, it'd be alarming, but instead there's a comfort to it. You're still warm from the bath, and yet you chase that heat, slipping your hand from his just to bring it under the waistline of his pants.

"More than a bit."

He's hot underneath it all, almost uncomfortable to the touch as you explore the space blindly. His eyes haven't left yours, his lids getting heavy with every prod and poke of your fingers.

A vertical line of soft, exposed skin catches your ring finger and his body jumps reflexively as you accidentally dip inside of him. It’s strangely dry, yet much softer than the rest of his scaled body. Despite yourself, you explore it a bit more, pressing in the same way you’ll be playing with your own pussy tonight.

"A-ahh--" The dragonborn sucks in a deep breath and you can feel his abdomen crunch under your touch, "Be careful."

"Did I hurt you?" you ask as you pull away.

His chittering laugh returns. His hands rest on the small of your back, not pushing, but not entirely platonic either. When he talks, the air tastes like distant embers, just far enough away, yet not close enough, "You didn’t hurt me, don’t worry."

“Are you sure?” you press, “You made a weird noise.”

“Very sure,” He dips low enough to press his lips against the shell of your ear, "You’d do the same if I put my fingers inside of you."

This time, the heat is coming from inside you, twisting and pulling with want.

"With your claws?" You manage to joke through your suddenly dry throat, "I might cry."

"I could cut them," His voice is rolling and low as his hands explore, one traveling up your spine and the other dipping the smooth over your ass. When they both reach their zeniths, they switch directions. The silk of your dress catches against his skin, pulling it up and revealing the fat of your ass to the air. "Nice and short."

His nails dig gently into your skin, nothing more than a nip, a test.

"You’re so soft, all over. Your body just gives when I touch it,” There’s a distant tone to his voice as he speaks into the curve of your neck, “Too delicate for me, aren’t you?”

You hum in disagreement and his teeth prove you otherwise. It’s barely a graze, but the nip against your pulse point drags a whimper from deep within you. Your companion chuckles, then coos with pity as he does it again, much, much kinder this time.

“Oh, you’re knock kneed and sweet for me,” The already blossoming bruises are soothed by a warm, textured flash of wet. His tongue is rougher than a humans, longer too, and it leaves behind a string of spit that is more viscous than any human’s. “Like a fawn. My sweet fawn.”

The hand that once explored him is trapped in between your bodies, unable to move, but you can feel something against your stomach: something hard, something thick. Too much cock for your human body, but, fuck, you’re going to try.

“Bet you’re even softer down here.” A singular clawed drags over your bare ass, searching for underwear that isn't there and your body trembles with want, “Oh, look at that, shaking like a leaf. I bet you’d melt if I-”

A sharp knock at the door scrambles you two apart. A moment passes and the sound almost feels imaginary, but then it happens again. You smooth your still wet hair and try to gather yourself, heading to the door in a hurry. Somehow, the dragonborn is more flustered than you. His scales are physically ruffled and his usually stoney brow is creased. He can’t blush, but you swear you can see his face alight as you swing the door open.

There stands a familiar elvish figure, with dark straight hair and the prettiest of smiles.

“Kiri!” you exclaim. She’s a natural beauty, like most elves. All legs and sharp angles, she’s a good head taller than you, leaning over with almost a condescending grin. She’s so beautiful that you almost hate her for it.

“I am sorry to be a bother, rogue.” She speaks in Elvish and the dragonborn’s head tilts slightly side to side, like a dog who hears his name, as he tries to listen. “I came to thank you and the sorcerer.”

“Oh, yeah, no worries,” Your Elvish is unnatural on your human tongue, “We are fine here.”

“My lover thanks you too,” she winks and giggles. She’s over a hundred years older than you, and yet still head over heels like a schoolgirl. Elves might live for thousands of years, but they take hundreds to mature. “We will not be sleeping much tonight.”

You roll your eyes and pretend to gag, biting back a smile, but then Kiri grows serious.

“If he scares you, please let me know,” she continues.

“Obi?” you say, “He’s a sweetheart.”

“I’m sure he is, but those teeth! Like needles. Braver than me, sleeping next to a monster like that.”

You glance at your dragonborn and he looks away before you can meet his eye. A disappointment settles in your stomach. Monster is such an ugly word for a pretty man. Everything about him is charming and refined, from the way he speaks and the way he walks, to the way he shines his scales when he thinks no one is looking.

“That’s rude.” You’re quick to reply. Kiri grew up around only her own kind and their ideas-- she doesn’t always know what’s uncouth or offensive because of it, “Don’t say such awful things.”

“It seems like he’s already gotten hungry.” She jerks a chin to your shoulder. You reflexively reach to cover it, only to pull away when the spot feels wet. Blood speckles your fingers- not enough to warranty any worry, of course, just the slightest graze of the skin.

“That’s not--”

“I tease, I tease!” she continues, “I know it is just a scrape. Can you imagine? To lay with someone who is all claws, fire and untamed magics! I-”

The man in question stalks in between you two silently. With a towel in his arms and a chip on his shoulder, he stomps by with a snort of his nostrils.

“I’m going to bathe.” His Elvish is worse than yours, but it's enough to make Kiri’s face drop. The worst part is that he doesn’t sound angry-- you could deal with anger. Instead, he sounds heartbroken. “I don’t mean to be frightening.”

You both walk him stalk down the hall until he disappears around a corner. Kiri swivels to look at you, bewildered. “Since when does he speak Elvish?”

[buntchugley]

distrust

It's hard enough being a deep gnome on the surface, without all the rest of this nonsense.

warning for descriptions of violence and temporary character death.

astarion & deep gnome tav. bite night. things...could've gone worse?

Sleeping on the surface  was hell.

The sounds of insects and nocturnal animals were constant, light shone even at night from that wide expanse of sky looming threateningly above, and even if the group had been able to scrounge up more tents from the looted dead Randale doubted that such a flimsy enclosure would do anything to provide him any real sense of safety or comfort. Even in better places Randale was a light sleeper, cautious and prepared to react, and his general distrust fought with the sheer exhaustion of fighting their numerous enemies and fear that even now he was turning, the headache that never abated possibly forewarning his skull exploding into splinters and tentacles.

He was just skirting the edge of sleep when he sensed a presence near him, looming in the false-darkness of the surface night, and he reacted quickly and with the pent-up energy of the past few days, with no time to consciously register that he recognized the face at his throat, that the rogue had started rapidly retreating with a curse and an entreaty to just wait -

On instinct he grabbed a piece of spare firewood at his side (foolish to expect these surface monsters to care about fire, apparently), and moved with a strength and conviction that shocked him almost as much as it did the man whose sternum he'd just punched through with a sickening sound.

Randale had killed before, but had never had to face the consequences so close and immediate. As an artificer and a gnome, his place in the battle was as far in the back as he could manage, especially now that he was fighting alongside allies with frames much more suited to directly facing the gnolls and cultists they'd been battling. He reeled, from the shocked eyes that stared back at him, at the wet snap of a ribcage splintering and a voice trying to speak past the choking blood, clutching uselessly at the stake before falling to the ground.

Fuck. Fuck!

He panicked, scrambling to his feet, staring at the fallen elf who seemed to be staring through him with glassy eyes, and he ran his hand through his hair with a shaky breath, trying to wrangle his thoughts into something useful, examine the situation, figure out what the hell he was going to do...

His companion, clearly, was some sort of vampire, or...something. Randale didn't think a vampire should be able to walk openly in the daylight like the man had, but then, he should be having problems of his own in this light. Evidently, while the tadpole had weakened most of them, it at least some advantages to protect their host, though clearly it hadn't been enough.

Astarion had been about to bite him, he had no doubt of that - he glanced at the wickedly sharp teeth barely visible in the slackened jaw - but would his new companions believe him? When there were no signs of his own injuries to prove his story? Wyll was a hunter of monsters and his renown as a folk hero was clear - how would he react to the idea that one of their number had been undead, without his ever noticing? Karlach wouldn't condone killing one of their own, Shadowheart still clearly resented him for having initially abandoned her to death on the mindflayer's ship, and Lae'zel would likely disapprove of the inefficiency of disposing of an asset...already, Randale's position with the group was tenuous, and he knew that as a gnome from the underdark he faced suspicion and disdain from the others. He strove to prove his usefulness, but compared to the likes of a veteran of the hells and an archmage? He doubted that they would tolerate his continued presence, and he knew he couldn't survive here, couldn't stand the thought of dying alone in this nightmare of a land, aware from his home.

In addition to these more practical thoughts was the simple fact of that expression, with a haunting look of betrayal, as if he wasn't the one about to kill one of his companions. But his reaction...how much of that was real, how much just a desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable? There couldn't have been any acceptable justification. This had to have been the safest course. Wasn't it?

Cursing himself, acutely aware that he had no more time in which to second-guess the colossally idiotic decision he was making, he scrambled through his pack, hands shaking slightly as adrenaline left him, ignoring the baleful look the corpse was giving him as he grabbed his scroll of revivify and unrolled it, damning every decision he'd ever made to lead him here when he should've been safe underground, not bringing a vampire back to...undeath?

Upon speaking the words on the scroll, it dissipated in his hands, and he watched the gruesome spectacle of a body dragged back into a semblance of living, twisting and attempting to expel the stake that was embedded in it. Hesitantly, he approached, since Astarion still didn't seem to be cognizant of anything, firmly grasping the makeshift stake and yanking it out, the piece of wood finally dislodging with a wet sound that threatened to make him ill. Stepping back a few paces, he crouched down, loosely gripping the stake, which was now coated in gore, not wanting to waste the spell scroll but still absolutely prepared to put him back down if need be.

It was hard to watch the chest cavity slowly knit itself together, hiding the sight of the bones and sinew that magic was pulling back into place away from the low light of the campfire, but there was no way he would be looking away. After long moments, Astarion was wracked by a coughing fit, hacking up a glob of blood as he sat up, incredibly slowly, eyes wide with surprise, anger, fear - looking as ready to bolt as Randale felt, but still clearly weak from the entire ordeal.

"I...I died. You killed me!"

He even had the gall to sound offended.

"Only because you were going to kill me!"

"It's not what it looked like. I tried to tell you - I wasn't going to hurt you! I just...well. I need blood."

His tone was cajoling, but still seemed to Randale to have a note of sincerity, but he was dubious that he would be targeted, as the most disposable member of the group, unless the plan was to kill him. But he'd already used the scroll, and if Astarion was willing to pretend at civility, it might cause him to behave for at least until morning.

"You need blood," Randale repeated, flatly. "What a coincidence, so do the rest of us. Why not ask someone instead of all this?"

Astarion sneered slightly.

"Yes, well, you might be shocked to discover that some people evidently don't take kindly to vampires." He gestured at his shirt, still torn open and bloody even as the flesh beneath had healed.

"And yet you're still alive enough to sit here and complain."

"Yes, and while I'm incredibly grateful -" his voice started acrid, but with visible effort he returned to a softer tone. "I've been feeding on animals. Boar, deer, kobolds...whatever I could catch, without anyone noticing. But it's not enough. I was too slow. Too weak. And, truly, I didn't have the extra blood to spare," he finished, glancing at the stake, which Randale finally set down on the ground.

"If I had some blood, I could think clearer, fight better than I ever could before. And like this, I certainly won't be of any use to you. You've already used a scroll to bring me back, what's a little blood?"

Randale blinked in disbelief.

"You're still trying to bite me?"

"Well, I'm not entirely in a state to go hunting now..." And it was true, as prepared as he clearly was to bolt out of camp, he looked like he wasn't likely to get very far. That was likely to be one of the reasons he was choosing this tactic, wheedling instead of intimidating - even with the fangs, he didn't quite have the strength to back up any bravado at the moment.

"I didn't tell anyone because I needed you all to trust me," he says, softly, and damn it, while Randale knows he's being played, he looks in those eyes and just remembers seeing them utterly lifeless, because of him - "and you can trust me. I'm just asking you to trust me a little bit more. I only need a taste, I swear. Please."

Gods below, Randale was tired, and knew he was going to make another catastrophically stupid decision. It would be a miracle if he even lived long enough to transform into an illithid at this point. But he's been walking precariously along a ledge, and finally having the slightest bit of power was a heady sensation, a tempting anchor amid trying to maneuver a place for himself amid this new hierarchy.

"...Fine. Damn it," he says, immediately regretting it as he sees Astarion's expression change, "but a drop more than you need and I'm putting you in the dirt permanently."

"Of course," he says, standing, swaying slightly but looking more confident as he looks down at the gnome, who crosses his arms. "Why don't we get more comfortable?"

Stiffly, Randale returns to his bedroll when prompted, shaking his head at himself. The adrenaline has left him completely emptied of energy, and all he wants is to sink back into sleep, though he's still tense as the taller man leans over him, tilting his head to the side and ignoring his glowering. The pain is sharp, and jolts him into wakefulness for a moment as surely as a bucket of ice water splashed on his face, but his swearing is unheeded and a moment later the pain is washed away by a warmer feeling, like drunken contentment. The gnome stills, lets his head fall back, and distantly marvels at the fact that for once his head isn't splitting with pain. He thought he'd been tired before, but now staying awake was a struggle he didn't feel like facing, hardly feeling the thread of life slipping from his hands in as he night finally closed in on him.

When Randale blinked his eyes open, he had a moment where he didn't know where he was, what had happened, or why a horned human was staring down at him with concern.

He pulled himself to a seated position, groaning as it exacerbated his splitting headache, and squinted at Wyll, who was down on one knee, watching him.

"What happened?" he croaked when he felt able to talk, throat parched and vision still swimming, and Wyll gave him a tense smile.

"We, ah. Found you dead this morning. Got Withers to bring you back. We're not entirely sure what happened - can you remember anything? Did an animal attack?"

Well then. He'd died, had he?

"Something like that," he replied, a flatness in his voice that made Wyll's concern sharpen, and Randale stopped to thank him, assure him that he would be fine, and that it would get handled, if Wyll wanted to go ahead and join Gale and the others for breakfast. The man eventually agreed, suggesting he see Shadowheart if he had any lingering problems that she needed to heal, and Randale stood alone for a moment, composing himself.

Clenching and unclenching his fist, he made his way with forced nonchalance to a spot in the camp where, to his amazement, a certain vampire had the gall to stand there and read. He stood in front of the man, crossing his arms and shifting his weight as he waited for a reaction.

Astarion lowered the book that he'd been making a show of reading, and raised his eyebrows. "Ah, you're - you're here! You were looking a little peaky last night. I was worried about you, but I'm so glad you're feeling better -"

His words were cut off with a fist to the diaphragm, and what Randale lacked in physical strength he hoped he made up for in sheer determination. He turned on his heel as the elf doubled over, waving at the others who had turned from the commotion as he moved to join the others at the fire pit, ignoring the swearing tirade behind him. The conversation would have to happen at some point, but he didn't trust himself to navigate it at this point, and a gnawing hunger unlike any he'd ever faced made it difficult to think straight.

"Everything alright, soldier?" Karlach asked, glancing between the two of them as Randale joined them with a sigh.

"Peachy, Karlach. Just peachy."

---

a/n: Randale is a fucking idiot who hasn't realized that he is, in fact, the leader of this party, and makes uncharitable assumptions about his companions. Also, he's a deep gnome but has hair bc he's trans. Also the bald thing is a bit stupid.

Also, don't try this in-game - while you can kill and resurrect companions before you recruit them, if you stake Astarion he stays perma-dead. But the scenario's funny so I've decided this is canon for them anyway.

[sillywolffoxwrites]

CHAPTER ONE Gorion Interrupted 3rd of Mirtul, 1368 - Day 1, Hour 7

I am adrift, buoyed by warm memories, swaddling me from the deadly cold. I hear muffled voices, but none would reach me until I was ready. I have lost My entire life. Candlekeep was my second chance I've lost it all once before. I can barely remember my mother, even her face has been stolen from me. What I do remember wasn't always wonderful. I remember hiding inside her cloak, hugging her while we sheltered from the cold in the street. We'd lived in a city I think... my father just... wasn't there. My mother refused to talk about him. The rest is blurry, but we fell on hard times. By the time Gorion found me she was already gone, claimed by some sickness. I may have been, 10? Again, those years are so blurry, I'm not *exactly* sure how old I am. Candlekeep was a promise that home could be found again even if lost. Gorion became the father I never had. A reserved but loving human man, he raised me from then on in the cloistered world of knowledge and magic. Almost as if overcompensating for my absent biological father, Helm had put my second father, Ferrum, in the service of Gorion. Some 3 years later Ferrum's future husband, Yuze, would become my 3rd father. I had so many friends, there, more children lived there than you would think, and I never got to know them all. The world seemed distant, the walls of the keep were all that I knew, the mountains and mountains of literature at my disposal, and endless , meaningless rules. When I was instructed to flee with my fathers and Imoen, I had trouble taking any of it seriously. Just yesterday I was musing if at 20, I was too old to be breaking into old Fleetfoot's stash of gnome erotica (just to see if I could). The gnome was puritanical, and unpopular among the other monks, but as he pushed us out, I wondered if I would ever see him again. " Everything seemed scarily final. I was sheepishly introducing myself to the girl who would travel with us. Imoen was a human girl around my age, she asked me how old I was, as with elves you can never tell. She relaxed to hear I was 20 as well. We said our goodbyes, and set to rushing through the forest. It was just within the first few yards of tree cover we saw him. An imposing figured, obscured by both armor and shadow. Gorion held them off so we could escape... We heard him dying as we fled. It was my first father's wish that I flee, but that does not remove the feeling of helplessness that now overwhelms me. "Hand over your ward," he'd said. He was after me and me alone, but why? Gorion seemed to know this instinctivly, jumping in front of me before the figure spoke his demand. If only Gorion had given some clue, but now we are alone and lost. Candlekeep is near, but we can't get back in - visitors have to meet some very difficult requirements to get in, and without Gorion's influence, their doors will remain closed. I know the place well enough, it doesn't matter that that's my family. Fuck us, no protection here. Gorion... he took me in, he saved my life, GAVE me a life. I want to die. Ferrum is devastated, openly weeping. Yuze sits with his head in his heads, as still as a statue. I am in pieces myself. - Aurelia

[steeklover]

WHY I THINK CARTEEK IS THE MOST REASNOABLE, HEALTHY CARTMAN SHIP-An Essay

**DISCLAMIER**: I've never done anything like this before and like I state throughout this essay, a lot of the evidence presented is a stretch, but I still really like Carteek and wanted to talk about them!! If anyone has any opinions on this whether they agree or disagree, I would love to hear it! I'm respectful of people's opinions on here and respect if people don't like this ship but I think it's dismissed to freely without being thought about.

When you think about it Carteek makes way more sense than popular Cartman ships like Kyman or Cutters because out of all the kids in South Park, it can most likely be said that Cartman is the nicest to Tweek.

Tweek is probably the kid in South Park that Cartman treats the best when it comes to the main 5 and then Craig's gang plus the girls.

We already know how he treats Kyle.

It can be said that he's pretty nice to Stan and Kenny but even then, he's done shit to them.

He's stated that he hates Craig before and then took his birthday money from him. (there's probably better evidence than that but I can't think of it)

He's pretty racist towards Token but I can't really tell if he's being mean or if he's just dumb.

He's pretty nice to Clyde to but then there was that pirate episode where he made him cry.

He stole Jimmy's fish sticks joke and manipulated him into thinking that he came up with the joke. He also beat Jimmy up when he was trying to be nicer to Kyle in Casa Bonita.

He was manipulative towards Heidi and we all know how he feels about the rest girls...

But the worst thing he's ever done to Tweek is probably when he got Craig to wear a Buddha Box and even then, it wasn't necessarily towards Tweek. He talked to Craig about getting away from his parents and relationships (I mean it could be said that this is directed at Tweek but then again, Craig has other friends, so it doesn't necessarily have to be his romantic relationship) but then when Craig started complaining about Tweek, Cartman went back to ignoring him.

(Like literally Craig, I love you and I get it but...shut up!)

But anyway, Cartman was not going to listen to Craig talk about his crush like that but that's literally the worst thing I can think of. And there's plenty of evidence that supports Cartman having a crush on Tweek.

GNOMES:

When Tweek is first introduced we see both Kyle and Stan complain about Tweek but Cartman doesn't say anything mean about him which is odd because... come on, it's CARTMAN.

Specfically:

Stan: Oh no, not Tweek.

Kyle: We don't want to be in a group with Tweek.

Mr. Garrison: There's nothing wrong with Tweek, I'm sure he'll do a great job in your group. (period Mr. Garrison)

Stan also says: Dude, we can't work with this kid.

Yet Cartman stays slight for once.

Then when they're working in their groups Cartman's the only one who believes Tweek about the underpants gnomes by saying:

He's so cute about it too. And the whole time during this scene he was just sitting there with a cute smile on his face.

Then when they're all at Tweek's house when Tweek's worried about his parents going out of business, Cartman out of all people is the one who attempts to comfort him when Kyle quote on quote, tells him not to worry about it.

Tweek shaking to death in the corner of his room: What if my parents go out of business? What'll I do?

Kyle's dumbass (affectionate): Don't worry about it.

Tweek: But we'll die and starve like dogs.

Kenny: Fuck you.

Cartman laughing: You suck Kenny.

See, Cartman made an attempt, as lazy and rude as it was, to make Tweek feel better and I actual feel like it was a genuine attempt, and that Cartman was just being stupid so it didn't really seem helpful. Plus, the attempt was made while ripping on Kenny, someone who it can be is one of Cartman's closer friends. So, it could be said that Cartman was showing off in front of Tweek.

My last piece of evidence from this scene is when they finally see the underpants gnomes and Cartman hits the one who's been stealing Tweek's underpants on the head with a stick.

I may be stretching this a little too far, but I like to view it as Cartman protecting his boyfriend from those thieves. And then when Kyle asks him why he had to hit the gnome on a head with a stick, Cartman stutters over his words, like he's trying to find an explanation that won't get him outed.

And that was just in Gnomes which was Tweek's first interaction with the main 4 plus his first actual episode. There's plenty of more examples of Cartman having an obvious crush on Tweek.

The next episode I can think of is Professor Chaos where they ultimately end of picking Tweek to be there new friend. Even more specifically near the end where they're down to the last five contestants. This may also be a stretch but...

Cartman thinks Towelie is awesome, but Kyle eliminates him since he's always high

Cartman calls Timmy self-absorbed

Cartman calls Token a smart ass

I think it was pretty safe to say that Pip wasn't going to be their new friend since they got mad at him at whatever game they were at and plus, the hate that child.

So, it may have just been foreshadowing since Tweek was the only one who no one said anything about, but I would just like to point out that once again, Cartman said nothing about Tweek.

I just find this very interesting because Cartman's very opinionated and doesn't spare people his opinions. I love Tweek but it's obvious that he has obvious flaws, and I wouldn't be surprised if something was said about Tweek. Stan and Kyle have said some pretty rude things about Tweek before (which hurts my Steek heart) but Cartman hasn't which I just can't get over.

So, in the end, they pick Tweek as their new friend.

The next piece of evidence is once again, a bit of a stretch but sometimes you just gotta pull that evidence in your favor. In the next episode, The Simpsons Already Did It, Cartman gets upset when his fish people things don't work.

You may see this as plain rude, but I see it as Cartman of all people being the only fucking person in that entire town that cares about the fact that Tweek walks around with his shirt buttons mismatched so his bare stomach is exposed when it's fucking snowing outside. He's only angry because he cares about Tweek and doesn't want him to freeze to death.

The next example I can think of is in Bebe's Boobs Destroy Society which is a pretty obvious example. When the boys meet at the restaurant, Cartman decides to kick Kyle out of the group first, over Tweek who's been there the least amount of time. You could say this is due to the fact that Cartman does not like Kyle but when I first watched this episode, I was pretty sure Cartman was going to kick Tweek out. But he didn't. Because he loves him.

This example is yet again, another stretch but also in Bebe's Bobbs Destroy Society, after Cartman gets kicked out of the group, he goes to the bus stop where the boys are with Bebe and gets upset again, stating:

Cartman: That's fine, that's fine! Fuck you Kyle and fuck you Stan!

Cartman walks away before walking back up to the group

Cartman: Fuck you, Tweek!

You have to look deeper here. Cartman is obviously hurt that Tweek didn't fight for him to stay in the group and was debating on whether he should call Tweek out on it or not. That's why he didn't flip Tweek off at first but then he changed his mind because Tweek upset him.

The next example is also pretty obvious and comes from the episode Child Abduction Is Not Funny where the boys go to the movies and Tweek freaks out over a new ticket booth man. Cartman expresses his concern for Tweek with the following comment:

Cartman: God, what the hell did his parents do to him?

Whether this was meant as a joke or was sincere, it's unclear but I like to think of it as the latter.

After that it is assumed that Tweek was kicked out of the group or just stopped hanging out with Stan, Kyle and Cartman since Kenny was reintroduced and he wasn't seen with them anymore.

Another example I can think of is another stretch and supports the fact that Cartman and Tweek are friends more than it supports Cartman's crush but it's from Tweek x Craig when Cartman is questioning Tweek and Craig's relationship. Afterall, it can be said that Cartman is the reason that Tweek and Craig ended up together since he had Cupid-Me shoot them with his arrows. Like I said, it doesn't really support Carteek romantically as much as it does support Carteek as friends but it's still nice since Cartman wasn't just thinking of himself in this episode. He even stated that he cared about the town when he went to Cupid-Me at the bar and told him that the whole town was depressed that Tweek, and Craig broke up.

The last example I can think of is, you guessed it, a stretch but comes from Put It Down, where Cartman expresses concern for Tweek (I don't know if this is what he was actually doing or if he was just annoyed with Tweek but let's go with the first one) and tells Craig that he needs to get Tweek to get a hold of himself.

So in conclusion:

Carteek needs more love.

I've literally seen people who ship Kyman out of all the Cartman ships they could ship, say that Carteek sucks. You guys can't be talking, and this is coming from someone who's favorite ship for both Cartman and Kyle is Kyman.

I also don't want to see anymore fanfics where Cartman and Tweek hate each other and where Cartman bullies the hell out of Tweek because it's very overused with very little canon back up besides the fact that Cartman's a bully. Sure, he is a bully but it doesn't seem to be that way when it comes to Tweek.

Although there's not really any canon facts that support Tweek liking Cartman (especially that one scene), I still think it's very cute when you think about one-sided Carteek on Cartman's side.

(Which I really don't understand Tweek because he's never really done anything to you... well maybe except for when he forced you to spend your night making paper hats, but you never sleep anyway so...)

I think when it comes to a lot of Cartman ships, people automatically dismiss them because of Cartman himself and yes, when there's ships like Kyman and Cutters (once again, not hating because Kyman is my OTP and I ship Cutters too) which are obviously not that great when it comes to how Cartman treats Kyle and Butters, but Carteek seems to be different.

And yes, it's fun to ship Kyman, it really is since they have such a weird dynamic with each other so maybe a ship like Carteek may not be as interesting to some people seeing that Cartman is actually pretty nice to Tweek, but I think that's what actually makes it interesting. Cartman isn't nice to anyone, not really even his mom and even though Tweek and Cartman have minimal interaction with each other, there's plenty of evidence that shows Cartman's attraction to Tweek whether it's just as friends or romantically. I mean, come one Cartman wasn't even as nice to his own girlfriend as he was to Tweek.

But it's very hard to tell when Cartman is generally concerned and when he actually cares about someone, so you really have to put some pieces together when it comes to this evidence. Sure, Cartman might come off as rude when he says stuff like "God, what the hell did his parents do to him?" but I like to see it as him being genuine.

Obviously Tweek is my favorite character and Cartman is in the top ten and I have a habit of shipping my favorite characters together because... well that's kind of how it is the most time but unlike my OTP, Steek (even though I could probably find some evidence if I put my mind to it) and Twenny, Tweek ships that don't really interact with each other, I find Carteek to make a lot of sense.

[hotdamnhunnam]

Meet the Fuck-Ups

A/N: Here’s the winning fic from this poll that I posted for what to write next! In which you’re Jax Teller’s girlfriend, and it’s your first time meeting his parents... cue family drama followed by Jax making up for the trauma by treating you to especially epic sex ✨

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk (all in Part 2) – Part 1 is just the Teller-Morrow clan fucking around and being a traumatically chaotic bunch of clowns 🤡 Request: This anon request + follow-up + character pref poll

Word Count: ~3.1k

“Jackson.”

The prince of Charming stops mid-walk, blonde hair flipping around his head in sudden shock, as the queen mother unexpectedly attacks him.

He was just caught off guard, as he’d been mesmerized watching you from across the yard. Admiring from afar. Whenever you’re at an event where Jax’s folks are in attendance, you make sure to keep your distance, so as not to stir suspicions. He’s determined to protect his girlfriend from his toxic parents; it’s a secret love affair between you two. But he can’t get over just how gorgeous you are, at the far end of the backyard, gracefully grilling burgers at this big neighborhood barbecue...

And Gemma notices that he’s loving the view. “You’re fucking her, aren’t you.”

“What?” Jax huffs, pulling back to escape from her manicured hands on his kutte. “I—ugh...”

“Jesus Christ,” Gemma melodramatically sighs, seeing straight through the secrets and lies. “You’re not just hitting that. You’re dating, and you’ve got it bad. I knew it.”

“No, you don’t know shit—”

“She’s got you all giddy and googly-eyed. Now you go tell her she’s invited to dinner tonight.”

The poor guy looks like he just literally died. “But Mom, I...”

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me,” Gem snaps; she won’t take any crap. “What, are you worried it’ll go badly? You embarrassed of your family?”

Those blue eyes blink sarcastically. “Ya think?”

“Shit only happens when we drink.”

“Yeah, which is 24/7. Mom, I’m not even...” 

But they both know the prince’s desperate protests won’t go over well. The queen has one last thing to tell. “Now go invite your girl to dinner, Jax, or I’ll do it myself. And spend the rest of my life making hers a living hell.”

Jax doesn’t doubt it, and he’s quite honestly terrified about it. “God, you’re so fucked up...”

“Apple, tree, and all that crap,” she deals his golden-stubbled face a playful slap. “You know you’re just as fucked as me. It’s time to see how well she fits in with our fucked up little family.”

***************

At the doorstep of his own childhood home... the badass biker known as Jax Teller—the fiercest and most fearless man you’ve known, ever—looks scared out of his wits. He tries to channel all his nerves onto his mother’s creepy garden gnomes. “Seriously, Y/N, this one is smiling like he secretly just murdered someone. Psycho piece of shit.”

“Hmm, I sense some deep-seated resentment here...” you tease him, softly squeezing at his arm to calm his fear. “Did this little bastard traumatize you as a kid? What is it, was he Mama Teller’s favorite?”

Sticking out his tongue, Jax rolls his beautiful blue eyes with a big sigh and plays along. “Yeah, kills me just to hear you say it...”

Leaning up to kiss his cheek, you guide him up the front steps as his knees start going weak. He is legitimately scared as hell. “Well, for what it’s worth you’re my favorite, and Mr. Gnome ain’t shit.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” Jax tilts his head to kiss the top of yours, slowing down as you near the front door; you can tell that he’s stalling. “Better not say that to my mom. She cut the last girlfriend I brought home who said shit about the garden gnomes.”

“Oh, God,” you mutter—whether that’s a joke or not... you’re honestly not sure. You’ve heard a lot about the infamous queen mother. “From what you’ve said of her, she’ll probably cut me if these roses are the wrong color...”

Jax beams down at the pretty pink bouquet you’ve brought for Mrs. Teller. You had hoped that this soft pleasant shade would be subtle and safe. “She’s a bad bitch for sure, but she’s got a big soft spot for flowers,” he reassures. “They’re perfect, babe. Just like you are.”

Although you know it’s far from true, you sure feel perfect when your boyfriend looks at you like you’re a shooting star. “Will your parents think so too?”

“Of course,” he coos, as you two finally step up to the front door. “Just look at you. What’s not to love?”

A lot, but Jax seems to think not. Reaching up to brush a random speck of dust off of his kutte, you murmur to him quietly, voice low and soft, in hopes of easing his anxiety. “...Then what’re you so scared of?”

He answers as if it were obvious. “That finally meeting my fucked up family will scare you off.”

“Oh c’mon, you think I scare that easy? Really?” with your free hand, you punch him gently in his broad muscular chest with a resentful huff. “Jax, you should know by now I’m big and strong and tough.”

Before your tall blonde boyfriend can respond... the front door suddenly swings open. That is not what Jax was hoping. Curses himself in this moment, as he knows he should’ve grown a pair and knocked before this happened.

But he hadn’t.

And now the proud lioness of Charming... has just pounced on your ass without warning.

Well, this is gonna be fun. Gemma is glaring daggers at you before the night’s even begun. “Beg your fucking pardon, but did someone just punch my son?”

“Mom, don’t...” your man groans, mortified to the bone.

You raise your hand up quickly, smiling innocently while admitting what you’ve done. “Guilty. Hope you’ll please forgive me?”

Gemma studies you up and down, shadowed brown eyes scoping out every weakness and flaw to be found. She’s a critical bitch when it comes to her baby boy’s girlfriends. “That depends. Was it your bright idea to keep this little fling a secret from his parents?”

Right about now Jax wishes he could disappear inside his kutte. “Mom, can you not—”

“Well, we make all of our big decisions together,” you candidly tell her. “But no, the idea wasn’t mine. I’ve been wanting to meet you and Mr. Morrow for a really long time.”

“So you’re laying the blame on my son, then.”

Your man is caught somewhere between cringing and fuming and looks like he seriously wants to punch this woman. Never mind that she’s his own mom, in her own home. He clearly wishes that you two had never come. “She’s not trying to blame anyone...”

“I’m pretty sure this little pistol can speak for herself,” Gemma cuts him off, bossy and gruff, cold as hell. Jax had described her like the evil witch out of a charming fairytale, and his description lines up well. “But whatever, I’m done. I’ve got some poison apples cooking in the oven. Extra poison. Come on in.”

She steps aside, and you put on a brave face as you nervously accept the open invite. Jax keeps one of his hands pressed against your lower back, a silent promise that he’ll jump to your defense in case the lioness attacks.

Once you’re inside, the queen proceeds as if these are your first words of the night. Extends her hand in introduction. Polite and forthright. Acting as if she had never accused you of laying a punch and a bucket of blame on her one precious son.

“Gemma Teller,” she proclaims, as if you’re not familiar with her matriarchal fame. “It’s a real pleasure. You must be Y/N.”

Jax blinks and steps in front of you all of a sudden. He had never mentioned your name; hearing it now awakens his instincts of protection. “Since when—”

“Calm the hell down,” his mother replies with a roll of her eyes. “I asked around. This little lady has a reputation in this town. Apparently I’m not the only one who figured out that you two are together.”

You hear a voice then from the next room, interrupting in a raspy boom. “Now did I just hear my woman introduce herself as Gemma Fucking Teller?”

The man of the house appears out of the hallway, joining the three of you in the foyer, with a half-empty bottle of beer in his hand. Gemma brushes away his theatrical alpha male anger. “My old man. Swears like a sailor.”

“You bring that shit out of me every damn day,” he tells her, extending his free hand to make your acquaintance. He’s clearly not sorry about the foul language. “Clay. And this is my wife Gemma Teller-Morrow.”

Gemma grabs the beer out of his grip, takes a sip. “If you say so,” she quips. “This old bastard is the President of SAMCRO, and a total fucking scumbag just in case you didn’t know.”

Oh, you knew it—Jax has filled you in on all the Sons’ business. You’re far from clueless.

But Clay doesn’t know that you’ve got all the dirt. “Whatever shady shit you’ve heard... don’t listen to a word. I’m a mechanic and a motorcycle enthusiast.”

“Of course,” you answer with a smile, well aware of Jax squirming uncomfortably beside you all the while. “It’s really nice to meet you two. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Clay is checking you out more than you would like. His sunken eyes survey your figure as if you’re some kind of bike, shiny and new. “Wish we could say the same. Jax keeping you a secret from his family is a crying shame.”

Your man cuts in then, all of a sudden. He’s sick of the blame game, and shifts his position to block you from his stepdad’s unwelcome view. “Alright, can you guys please just thank her for the flowers? Then let’s sit and grab a bite. We’re only staying for an hour.”

Gemma shoots her son a look of spite—planning to keep him here all night—but graciously accepts the roses. “Thanks, doll, these are gorgeous.”

Her husband mumbles underneath his breath, as if he thinks you’re fucking deaf. “Yeah, she really is.”

At that, Jackson erupts, pulling him furiously to the side. “You better fucking stop...”

The queen is taking it in stride. She’s used to Clay’s wandering eyes and doesn’t even care to listen. Beckons you into the kitchen, giving the men a few seconds to fight. 

Gemma checks on the food in the oven and pours you a drink over frivolous chit chat. Small talk feels a lot safer than real talk with her, so if this is the course of the rest of the dinner, you’re quite fine with that. 

She compliments your dress, which you had taken care to make sure wouldn’t come off as classless—you wanted to look casually elegant, dressed to impress, yet innocent and modest. When you had decided on it, Jax had joked that you look like a virtuous virginal goddess. Which is a big joke to be honest, given that you’re fucking addicted to taking his huge cock and giving him long filthy blowjobs...

“So you seem nice enough,” Gem interrupts your wayward thoughts. “Guess you’re all pink roses and butterflies and gumdrops?”

She has absolutely zero need to know the facts: that when it comes to Jax, you’re nothing but a dirty little slut. You keep your inner whore mouth shut, batting your eyes theatrically. “Yup—that’s just me. Ain’t nothing else to see.”

“Oh, and you’re sassy,” she laughs as she leads you into the dining room and gestures at your seat, now that the food’s almost ready to eat. Sets the bouquet down on the table as a centerpiece. “Sass and savagery are the key to surviving this family.”

The boys finally arrive, now that Jax is done verbally skinning his stepdad alive. Badly. In the heat of the argument, he had abandoned his kutte and is now wearing only his heather grey hoodie, which makes him look like such a soft cuddly cutie. But nothing about him is goody-goody; he’d made it clear that he will literally pull his gun if Clay dares to refer to his girl as a ‘hot piece of pussy.’ 

Jax just hopes and prays that Clay will keep it classy. When the old man starts getting tipsy—as he is tonight already, obviously—his remarks inevitably get a little nasty.

“Here I thought dinner would be served,” Clay grumbles, as he sits himself at the head of the table. He’s half-joking with his next words, but just half—there’s a bona fide dickbag behind that big laugh. “Shit’s still in the oven? Get back in the kitchen and do your job, woman!”

Gemma flips him the finger but doesn’t linger. Stows her lioness ego and goes to fetch dinner—she picks her battles, with this chauvinist asshole. When it really matters the queen will make damn sure she comes out the winner.

You motion to stand up and offer to help. But Gemma stubbornly insists that you should sit as she can handle it perfectly well herself.

The next minute or so is spent in awkward silence. Clay grabs another brew, and forces himself not to even look at you; the air is thick and tense. You clasp your boyfriend’s hand under the table so he won’t resort to violence.

When Gemma comes back to the dining room with heaps of food in hand, you notice that she’s taken off her slick black leather jacket, revealing a white floral blouse underneath it instead. You notice the side-eye she shoots at her man. Clay’s recent comments must’ve gotten somewhat into her head, got her feeling indignant and heated. She keeps a stone cold face, but you can see the fragile little girl behind her gaze—her heart is twisted, dark and fifty shades of fucked, but it’s an open book, for anyone who takes a good hard look. For anyone who cares to read it.

And somehow, having met the lioness who raised the man you love... you understand him better than you ever have, till now. Vow to yourself that you’ll spend the rest of your life giving him all the love he’s ever needed.

In any event, dinner is finally served and it’s time to eat it.

After a fair bit of small talk, Gemma has had a bit too much to drink and then suddenly brings up the subject of... well, Jax’s cock. “So tell me—what’d you fall in love with? His big heart or his big dick?”

You blink, then blurt out something without bothering to think. “Who says his heart is big?”

Clay bursts out into good-humored laughter at your unexpected answer. “Hah, I dig this chick,” he hollers.

Jax impulsively picks up a steak knife; his stepdad should honestly fear for his life. “Don’t you call her—”

Raising a hand to firmly press against his chest, you hold him back. “It’s fine, Jax; really, I don’t mind. ‘Chick’ isn’t even negative. Don’t get all oversensitive. It’s fine.”

He takes a seat, but still he seethes, growling through gritted teeth. “You on their side or mine?”

You shrug. Playing it cool so you can be his rock, though truly everything about this evening has you shook as fuck. “Just fitting in behind enemy lines.”

Jax releases a deep sigh, still breathing heavily. “Fine. As long as you know who’s the enemy.”

Clay shakes his head, snickering as he tears a crust of bread. “Enemy? C’mon, son, that’s no way to talk about your perfect white-picket-fence family...”

Everyone at this table knows full well that if the Teller-Morrows had a fence, it would be inked in black and stained in bloody red—permanently—from all the deadly crimes that SAMCRO has committed. Sure as hell wouldn’t be white.

The mood just got a little bit too heavy; tipsy Gemma tries to make it light. “Enemy’s probably right. It’s a damn war in this house every night. What fun is life without a little fight?”

She winks at you across the table. Just a friendly little gesture, girl to girl. And though she’s mentally incredibly unstable... that’s the first time this whole night that you’ve felt comfortable. That little gesture really means the world.

So long as you can count the queen among your friends, you’re on the right side of the Teller-Morrows’ bloody picket fence.

As dinner continues, the conversation takes a turn toward innocuous bullshit like weather and uneventful local news. Thankfully then the air in the room gets a little less tense.

... That is until Clay sets an ominous tone again, scowling across the table at his stepson. “Jackson. Lemme ask you a serious question.”

Jax is currently chewing a big piece of meat up. He stops; his face drops. 

As you tremble in worry, the man of the house carries on with his critical inquiry. “You, uh... mind passing me some of that corn on the cob?”

Oh, that was savage. You can feel the blood return to Jax’s veins, heart picking up its beat again, as your tough guy boyfriend heaves a sigh of relief and pretends that he wasn’t just punked like a pussy-ass bitch. Tries to brush off the dumb prank with swagger and style.

“Now there’s that smile. Haven’t seen it in a while,” the queen mother gladly reacts, raising her cup. There’s nothing in the world that makes her happier than happy Jax. It’s all she ever really wants. And she’s proud of her husband, for once. “You got the kid to lighten up. Good job.”

“Yeah, I ain’t all bad,” Clay laughs, giving the room a rare glimpse of the zero-point-two percent goodness in him. “Now do I get some sugar for that?”

He puckers his lips, taps his pointer finger against them to request a quick kiss.

Gem pretends to resist, but in her twisted fashion she loves the man more than she cares to admit.

Of course he loves her, too. On some level even the most fucked up love built upon a whole lifetime of secrets and lies can be true. “I love you, babe,” he tells her as she pulls away, though she already knew.

And at that, Jax is happy. As fucked up as these sick twisted psychos may be, they’re his family. The love that they share is a sweet thing to see. And he’s fucked up too, obviously—the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.

The only person he loves more than them is you. And the way you’ve so bravely and gracefully handled his parents... honestly made him fall in love with his girlfriend all over again. Jax already can’t wait to get back to his place after dinner, and show you just how big his heart and his dick are. Remind you of all of the mind-blowing things that his big dick can do.

Now that you’ve survived meeting his fucked up family... finally... he can spend the rest of the night, and the rest of his whole damn life, loving you madly. And fucking you up, just the way you both love. Badly.

***************

... Continued in Part 2!

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