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melodyofthevoid · 18 days ago

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The Crane Wives: Beyond, Beyond, Beyond

(The finale, for now. Hard to believe that I've been working on these for almost 2 years. Anyways, enjoy)

Now we arrive at the threshold, album five. The first studio album in nearly a decade, and a testament to all that came before and between. Themed and defined by change in all its forms. The lack of, the desire for, the consequences in both its wake and absence. The price of moving forward and the price of standing still. Even the sound isn’t immune, with the newer tones and style developed over the singles shown off in solos that range from electric to more traditional. Some songs challenge ones from years past, others a continuation, but all part of an ongoing conversation that ends with resolve. A desire to cross through.

The question is, will you follow through the looking glass?

Scars

How did this happen? It’s a question that comes naturally whether or not there’s truly a reason. Why am I like this? The eternal feud of nature vs nurture, whether the tangled mess of anger and bitter emotions stemmed from a single event or bloom from somewhere within. If the well was poisoned before the symptoms started to show.

And does the source even know that they left the poison to begin with?

The first few chords warp those of another song, a crooning cry from a parent who’s severed the ties and left the singer adrift. Their mournful tone twisted and distorted until it turns into the sharp twangs of a guitar, heavy footfalls that drive the song forward. A tired trudge burdened and haunted.

The singer is not who they thought they were. The refrain that carries over and over again- starting each train of thought. They’re struggling to keep their head above water, aching in a way they’ve always known. Born to in a storm that left them with a piece of itself forever. The anguish hereditary. Or maybe there’s another reason. The effect is still the same. This misery is a constant companion,

Ruefully they acknowledge all of the effort put towards them, the love and kindness, plans made with all good intentions to guide them towards a brighter and better future. Futile efforts made to no avail. They watched as they failed time and time again, trying to cross the gap to understand where the singer was and give a way forward, but a bridge constructed from only one side is doomed to fail. Letting that hard work near them risked vulnerability and letting the other close.

And how could they let them close to who they are? Broken in some fundamental way from the beginning. Destined to fail and shatter leaving them scarred, to signal to the outside what was wrong within.

Then the subject switches from those who’d tried to help, to the origin of their suffering. The piece is a companion to “Never Love an Anchor”, and the one left behind sees only the abandonment, the fact they weren’t enough to stay for. The anguish their parent felt at their personal failings and inability to care for the singer now passed on, a wound to their ego. A tire fire, caustic and toxic that refuses to be put out.

They were meant to fall apart, to wind up with scars.

Because isn’t it easier if there weren’t any other options? If this flaw sabotaged all of the work put in and rendered it all futile? Then there’s no fault, no blame to be laid. An easy surrender to the inevitable.

The question is will they continue to live like this. To allow the scars to fester, or seek out a balm despite the pain. For now, they accept their fate as the music cuts all at once.

Bitter Medicine

Hard truths go down easier with a bit of sugar, you catch more flies with honey, axioms to explain the act. Of using a veil to cover up the unpleasant parts of life. Without it what’s left? Just the ugly, twisted, reality of it all. Sometimes it’s all you have. And it’s stifling.

The singer looks at where they are. Wasted, inebriated either in a literal or metaphorical sense. Unable to be trusted to take themselves home or to drive their own life. A pathetic state of affairs, one they’re all too aware of. It’s the bed they’ve made for themselves, the consequences of their actions they accept with a blithe and self-effacing smile. They wonder how the one they love sees them. If they’re ashamed or if the front they’ve put on until now. A cheap imitation of some “better” person that isn’t long for this world.

They could be worse, so much worse. Poison sits on their tongue and they swallow and bite it all back to keep it inside. The toxicity accumulates in their body and slowly kills them inside as it has nowhere else to go. No one else deserves it, to know how corroded and hollow they are on the inside. They’re sick, but they can’t let anyone in. They’ll play the part of everything they’re not in hopes it distracts and entertains but it’s hurting them just as much as the rest.

And if someone sees through it, what then? Can look past the facade? The singer both yearns for it and fears it in turn. They need someone to clean up the mess around them, the mess they’re unable to touch. The accumulation of a thousand small cuts bleeding out into a river. Each on their own barely noticeable but together they build upon each other.

Accepting an offered hand is another question in and of itself. Do they deserve it? Is it a gift given or is it taken? Someone’s else’s good intentions wasted on their act, for their own faults. It’d be a waste on them, and so they continue on as they were. Suffering in their own skin and hiding behind the mask that chokes them.

In another life, they’d let it all go, but this isn’t that life. The singer’s convinced this is all there is. Convinced that their arsenic laced words are medicine. The truth. But they’ve decided that it is.

And so it is.

Higher Ground

When you’re lost in the midst of an upheaval, when the earth itself is turning on its head, sometimes the only option, the only means of survival, is to go, to remove oneself from the situation. But there are things left behind, an impact not intended. A decision that can be as consequential as the event itself.

Such is the singer’s predicament. They’re trying to look out ahead, but they can’t see the horizon, can’t see beyond today. Higher ground could give them a better view, a larger picture and save them, but there’s a cost to that choice. A domino effect is spiraling out after they spoke their mind, let go of the truth. What’s done can’t be undone and now everything is changing, shifting. What once was close drifts apart, what once was parted clashes, titanic shifting of tectonic plates. Inexorable forces that leave nothing untouched.

And nothing undamaged. Someone’s going to get caught up, hurt. Once they come down they’ll see the full extent of it all and that terrifies them. But again, it’s out of their hands.

Every warning sign is flaring, ravens and crows are heralding incoming danger. A predator. A threat to everything in sight. But with all that they’ve set into motion, is the warning for them? Or about them? This wasn’t the plan, not to hurt anyone, not to change everything, but they won’t know for sure. Not until the dust settles and they stand above it all.

They’ve survived, at least.

Predator

When every shadow becomes a claw, every smile hides a threat, the world becomes an endless hall of mirrors, reflecting back all of one’s fears. Nowhere is safe, not when you’re the world’s prey.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?” The rhetorical question, that to the anxious, isn’t rhetorical in the least. It’s the risk they measure the outside against, the guide to all actions. If they can imagine the worst possible outcome then it can be prepared for, warded against. Because disaster will come, inevitably. Staying on guard at all times, lest their comfort come at the cost of their safety (even if the sky is not falling, it’s easy to panic at every little crack. Perhaps they’re too prepared.)

When it hits, as it always does, it’s their own fault. They know better. They let in a predator, lowered their walls and their guard to someone who, not for the first time, left them wounded and vulnerable. Signs were missed that they’d seen before, a lesson they should have learned the hard way but failed to truly comprehend. So it’ll happen again.

Regardless of the fact that someone else took those actions. It’s their fault. It has to be.

To the prey animal, confrontation is to be avoided at all costs, so the response to danger is to fawn. Follow the path of least resistance and never put up a fight. If there’s a problem, it’s probably their own misinterpretation of the situation, because… If they say no, if they push back, there could be consequences. They could get hurt, cut by sharp teeth and sharper words.

But there’s only so much that someone can put up with and stand before it’s too much. Gaslighting finally igniting a spark of resistance. They’re already struggling to breathe, struggling with the constant anxiety and fear and this? They don’t need this too. What if they didn’t have to live like this anymore, and they finally said no?

And at last they confront at least one of their fears. Calling out their treatment, the fact they’ve been used. Trying to better this person, hoping that they’ll see the harm they’re causing on their own, they’ve done it a hundred times and it’s never happened. They keep getting hurt. The predator can’t see the blood on their teeth, doesn’t know their own strength, the bodies in their wake.

But no, not this time.

Say It

No one wants to be the first to leave. The first to sever ties. Admit defeat. Even in spite of years of change, of what once was withering on the vine, sometimes there’s still hope that the garden can recover, however impossible and slim. A loyal dog that waits, tied to a post, for an owner that won’t come back. Because what if it goes back to the way it used to be? That honeymoon phase where everything blossomed and bloomed. But it won’t.

The singer wonders where it went wrong? Staring at the person they once considered so close and begging for an answer. Was it them? Was the reality of their personality, their flaws, too much to bear? Erasing the idealized version that their partner once held of them? Were they, are they disappointing to know truly?

Without an answer, they demand a different one: tell them it’s done. Let them out. Let them stop hoping for a spark to rekindle the flame of passion. Otherwise they’ll remain there in the dark. Pining for better times.

Because once upon a time their lover gave them everything. Provided a haven and home. A gentle hand that wiped away their tears and pulled back their layers. All of those memories of warmth against the bitter cold of the present call into doubt their sincerity. Did they really care before? Was it all pretend?

Would it be better if it was?

The guillotine hangs over their head, a blade that could sever and end their suffering but instead hovers. A reminder that it could end at any point but won’t. They wait dutifully, a dog who can’t help but take what they’re given. Loyal and faithful even when that love and devotion isn’t returned.

But if it was real once, they would do it over again. Wouldn’t they? Or would the one the singer holds so dear choose to avoid their relationship altogether. To alter their paths so that they never met. Have things fallen apart to where it was never worth it in the first place? Is the thought of what they’ve become so toxic, so tainted, that they'd give up whatever good came of it to spare themselves?

The question lingers, and so the singer does nothing but wait, too afraid to take the first step.

Waiting for them to say it.

Mad Dog

A fruitless pursuit, an endless chase, the eternal drive to reach for that promised oasis shimmering just beyond the horizon a few steps away. There is no exit condition when a paycheck is all that stands between you and losing it all. Enter the workforce at 18 (or younger), keep working until you’re 72 (or older), then you can maybe lie down. Can’t grind yourself to the bone too early, can’t run out of steam yet. If just a little more money is made, a few more spare coins stuffed away for later, maybe it’ll resemble happiness.

The singer’s blinders keep them on the same track they’ve always known, striving to achieve when all it’s done is lead them further and further from home. Tunnel visioned and yet it’s never in reach. No matter how far they run. How hard they work.

But no one else is keeping their bills paid, no one else is going to make them a millionaire, so they keep repeating and repeating. Hoping that they’ll get an answer back that isn’t the same as before.

Thus, the chase continues, a dog chained to a post snapping after a rabbit it can never catch. Running, and running, and running, yet forever tied to the same spot. Once that leash runs out of room the retaliation snaps back with a vengeance. Punishing the hound for stepping out of its role and putting it “where it belongs”. Daring to yearn for more cannot be tolerated.

As if the empty race weren’t enough, there’s debt to be paid too. A rock burdening every step, forcing those bound to it to step lightly. Any misstep could spell disaster, drop the guillotine, it’s a constant tightrope cutting into their feet. And it’d be easier if someone else, anyone else, could choose which way to go. To give a direction that won’t lead to disaster. To take that burden off their shoulders.

Because water’s coming in, the debt’s getting worse, and they’re going to go down. The shore’s visible, it’s there, there’s something beyond the current situation, but it’s not getting any closer.

Whatever hope there is, it’s almost manic. The only thing keeping them afloat. Maybe they’ll get lucky and strike it rich, maybe they can make this paycheck go a little further. But there’s no support, no one to wipe their tears, keep them from teetering off of the edge.

So the race continues. The pull and snap, the desperate clawing up the hill until Sisyphus’ boulder falls back down again. Stuck in a cycle out of their control.

At least until they can find the one that chains them. They may not catch the rabbit, but they can bite a hand.

Arcturus Beaming

There’s something special about that moment at rock bottom. Not in the state of it, the despair, the agony, no. There’s something about that moment when it changes. Changes from an endlessly growing pit to… simply the bottom. A moment in time where suddenly the perspective shifts and now there’s a way out and up, a perspective changed by a sight once taken for granted. Maybe it’s the leaves changing in the fall, the sound of people laughing and talking in a cafe. A favorite drink you want to have again.

Or maybe, it’s the sky. That shimmering tapestry. Dotted with a trillion points of light (should you live far enough away from any pollution to see it) it has served as an inspiration for so many. Ever changing and yet… always there.

Arcturus glimmers as the 4th brightest star in the solar system, visible during summer in the northern hemisphere. Visible to those even in more light polluted areas, reminding them that there’s more out there than the limited vision of the pit.

The singer begins there, thanking that dark place, where despair threatened to ravage them. They hid from the world there, sheltering to wallow in their pain as it became all they could see for a time. It shrunk their view of what could be, leaving a feat that seems all but impossible. Plato describes a scenario in which a prisoner lives their entire life within a cave like the singer’s own, shown only shadows of objects. Those simulations as their only context, all that they know. But the singer is curious, and that fear can only hold them for so long. They may understand the cave, the pain, but what else is there?

Hurt accumulates over time, sediment that solidifies into a weight that’s carried wherever one goes. It can be an impossible challenge to free oneself of it, to breathe easy after lifting that stone for years. One’s ribs aching from the strain. But stone is not permanent. Not invulnerable. A steady drip of water can erode, a river can carve a canyon so impossibly wide it’s visible from beyond our atmosphere. Those layers, both easily added, can also be worn away. Leaving something new in its wake.

That time spent has a cost, of course. Dreams left abandoned, relationships broken, so many avenues that could have been simply… gone. That grief will linger, and that’s alright. But what exists beyond that? What happens when we look up and dream?

Beyond what we know, beyond what we understand, are there others who look at our sun and wonder? Beyond ourselves are there others crawling out of their caves and seeing more. Maybe we could all dream more

It’s not too late to do something once the revelation hits. To forfeit is the only ending, when we resign ourselves to suffering. But that’s not all life is, it can be changed. We just have to do it. Have to take the steps to push past the indulgent self-flagellation of the cave, and resolve to keep moving.

This experience rings true for myself. I found I’d dug into a mindset where I feared so much. The future, stagnation, the impossibility of becoming anything other than what I was. Littered with the half started remains of failures, hesitant half starts cushioned by a numb resignation. Couldn’t be disappointed if I never hoped. Cycles of self defeat. Overwhelmed, I laid on the deck outside and stared up into the same sky that inspired this song. Clear inky darkness pinpointed by a million specks of light. I laid there for some time, the same music I’ve detailed in these pages my only companion to a realization that felt so obvious in hindsight and yet I… I needed to come to the conclusion myself.

I can start again.

It doesn’t matter if I’ve tried a hundred times and the patterns didn’t stick. I can try again. Old behaviors, failed coping mechanisms, they can rear their ugly heads but there is tomorrow. There is a future that I can find. A me I can guide with new tools if the old ones don’t serve me. It may take time, it may hurt. But that’s my decision to make.

Nothing will change until I change. And we can.

Time Will Change You

The constant, the inevitable, the sensation of sand slipping through fingers and waves wearing down a shore. A metronomic beat follows the sound of a rusted hinge, thudding footsteps from a never ending march that never relents even as a guitar twangs above it. A companion in the flow.

The singer too is dragged along with it, pulled along as they almost gasp out the words. It hurts, some part deep inside them finally gave way and broke. It aches and it won’t end- They’ve loved and lost, planted the remains of their heart into a grave, a seed watered by their grief that may or may not bear fruit again.

And yet there is a twisted comfort on the horizon. Time will continue as it always does, seasons will pass, and with it, things change. For better or worse the singer will change. Everyone will change, and as they do they’ll leave behind what remains stagnant. Phases and traits that once defined are now locked in amber. No longer a part of the present.

Time doesn’t affect all equally, there is no system that doles out appropriate fates, some can swim and survive the current while others are subsumed entirely. The rush overwhelming in the moment, and it’s impossible to tell which way is up. But the tide will ease, nothing is forever, good or ill. Relax, let time move you and you’ll float along it.

And you’ll be changed. Like the stone smoothed by a river, edges worn away, the place you once rested, now far in the past.

And letting go takes effort, make no mistake. Healing even more so. If the grief never grows, doesn’t evolve, doesn’t become more than what was put there before, then it can stay where it is. Left to fade into nothing more than memory. A step along the winding path to the end.

The journey no one leaves the same.

Black Hole Fantasy

The concept of a black hole needs no explanation nor introduction. The complete and total collapse of a star, pulling in all light and substance. The basis of many a metaphor for endless hunger, destruction. The end of all things. Yet- they’re often theorized to contain more. Maybe the end of one thing could lead to somewhere else entirely.

For her part, the singer finds herself stuck in place, whether by some inexorable gravity or circumstance. Repeating the same orbit, going through the motions of life and losing sense of herself. If there’s more to living, a chance or opportunity for a different path, it’s fading from view. The longer one stays complacent, the harder it becomes to move. To find that missing piece that their soul longs for, but doesn’t have the words for.

Every day blends into the next, the walls of their home becoming smaller as their world shrinks. At the center lies the Black Hole, the gnawing yearning, the pit of absence that they’re ignoring. Hoping it will go away, but it won’t. Ignoring hunger won’t fix a want of food, pretending not to hear a leak won’t prevent the damage.

And they know what they’re yearning for, or rather- who. But it’s- surely it’s nothing. Nothing more than a chemical reaction, serotonin and oxytocin playing tricks on her. It’d be easier if she could suppress it. She doesn’t know if it’s real, and so what if it is? Confessing, taking a chance… There’s a cost. The foundations she’d build could all crumble to ashes.

That is if the hole in their chest doesn’t collapse it all first, the time lost to routine is getting longer, time speeding by even faster, with whole weeks passing in an indistinct mass.

So she goes to confront it head on, driving to confess on the doorstep. But then she stops. What happens next. What happens if it all goes wrong? What if they lose them forever? What if they don’t feel the same? How could they feel the same. The singer doesn’t believe in a happy ending, frankly. Why would any dream of theirs have one? Even in the best case there’s so much that could go wrong that it’d be safer to leave the car running. To leave. Retreat back into themselves where they won’t get hurt.

But the world keeps crumbling in around them, their room is suffocating, as they’re consumed by the limitations they’ve put in place. Months, years, what does any of it even mean? None of it means anything… and the temptation to look into the black hole finally wins out.

Instead of a small, enclosed world, there’s more on the other side. She catches a glimpse of herself and there’s light in her eyes, laughter on her lips, and- is she even capable of that? Could she be? Can she find what could bring that life, that joy, that love-

No, she does know.

Stars shining above, the singer returns to the dream she shows away from once. But this time she’s turning off the car. This is what she wants. Throwing away the keys and the fear and running up to the door. And it opens. Their love is there and every doubt is gone as arms reach out for her.

Wrapped in an embrace, the singer can finally catch her breath, and when she pulls back, she smiles. Laughing at how complicated she made this simple moment. Maybe she wasn’t alone in that, as her love joins her. They were waiting on the other side of the door, after all. Twin stars pulled into each other’s gravity, destroying what was before and starting something new.

Gentle guitar replaces the singer as she walks towards her new life, no longer bound to what was. Closing the scene, rolling credits.

Red Clay

Work harder, just put more effort into it, the struggle makes it worth it, nose to the grindstone, phrases that are ingrained into the zeitgeist. The more pain experienced, the better the outcome.

Right?

An endless climb up a clay mountain, never fully able to get a grip, a Sisyphean struggle that feels like reality. With the Sun beating down, the top never coming closer, the question occurs: what is this for? Why keep pursuing this path that’s only lead to more suffering? Suffering that’s self inflicted no less.

That one pause is all it takes to break through the tunnel vision, for the singer to take in all of their surroundings. Another path, shaded and just within reach was there all along. They don’t need to do this “the hard way”. It may be all they’d known, but they can see beyond that mound now.

Their struggle wasn’t for naught, they were afraid for many years, yes. But they understand their fear now, they can be brave, even with that fear. They don’t have to keep on this path.

The shaded trees beacon.

River Rushing

Something finally gave. The frustration mounting day by day, it’s too much. Dammed up and now the singer’s had enough. They’re breaking down the walls, the barriers, everything that keeps them crushed under the weight of their regrets. They’re going to change. To let loose their desires and follow the river.

The singer craves freedom, the person they once were buried under layers of concrete and expectations. If they hold onto these regrets, all the grief of time wasted, then they’ll never grow. Beneath every thought is the phrase they know is true: that there’s no shortcuts here. The only way out is through, charging ahead no matter what.

Maybe they hesitated before, waited too long and lost something. Someone. But a voice reassures them to hold themselves steady. To go when they’re ready. Because they are ready now.

Just believing that everything will work out kept them in place, they’re full of defiance, they have bite, a voice that demands to be heard. They’re going to pry the hand around their throat off once and for all. They’ve set their mind to it.

They’re ready to go beyond.

#my writing #the crane wives #so some final stats #final word count: 24801 #BBB page count: 10 #word count: 4551 #I started this little project back on Jan 27 2023 #Completed* on Jan 15 2025 #wild times #thank you for following along with this!#I might go back and touch up SSH or I might not #but I'm really happy with how these turned out

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secret-smut-sideblog · 10 months ago

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As It Was

Gale x F! Tav

(AA break up series, part 11, final)

18+ domestic bliss, restraint, oral (f!), breast worship (f!), rimming (f!), squirting, forced orgasm, confrontations, battle, self sacrifice, amputation (explicit), grief release, hurt/comfort, feelings of undeserving, tenderness

All out of time, Tav must save her lost love from himself. With a warm hand at her back, and shaking fear in her heart, will her sacrifice be worth the cost?...

Masterlist, Prev Chapter

She had to tell him. She knew she did.

"Mmm," Gale hummed, pleased. Her hands coming up to his chest. Pressing her body into his back. "And a good morning to you too."

She couldn't put it off any longer. It would be irresponsible.

Pressing her nose into his spine, she nuzzled in. Hands cupping his pecs.

"Careful there," He laughed, a slight hitch in his voice. "I've got hot oil up here."

If she could just get one more night with all of her limbs tangled endlessly in his.

If she could just show him how much he meant to her, how deeply she wanted him to feel loved. Maybe that would be enough.

Giving him one small love bite on his shoulder, she relented for now.

"No biting!" He admonished.

She play growled and pulled his forearm into her teeth.

"Drop it!"

She kicked her feet at him, laughing loudly as he tried to pinch at her sides.

The fight went to the floor, her gasping out a shrieking laugh as he caught her ribs in a tickle.

Locking her legs around his, she drug her tongue up his forearm obscenely.

"Okay, that's it!" He dove into the side of her neck, rubbing his beard into her.

"No!" She shrieked, trying to twist away.

Quiet laughter shook his chest. Both of them relaxing into a tangle on the cool tile.

He held the back of her head, kissing her deeply.

"I adore you and would love to kiss you on a dirty floor for much longer. But breakfast is burning."

"Breakfast is stupid."

"An absurd and frankly, hurtful statement."

He gave her one small kiss on the forehead, pulling her up with him.

Hopping up on the counter, she leaned back into the cabinets. Picking up a peeled potato and turning it in her hands.

What do you need to tell me, Tav?

She sighed.

Was it that obvious?

Well, groping is usually followed by heavy subjects.

She shot him a smile, which he returned. Flipping the contents of the skillet.

You're going to try to talk me out of it.

Oh, most definitely. Show me anyway.

She bit her lip, then turned towards him. Closing her eyes and opening her mind.

She showed him everything. The deal she had made, the plan already fully formed. The supplies. The steps. The price.

His hands came to lean on the sides of the stove, shoulders hunched over. Head down.

It was quiet besides the sizzling of food.

For once, he closed his mind off to hers, and that made her more scared than she had been in a long time.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he took a deep breath.

"Okay."

She looked up at him in shock.

"What?"

"I'm not fool enough to think I can stop you, and I'd rather be there than not. If you're going to do this, you're going to need help. Especially with the first part."

She brought his hand to her mouth, kissing his knuckles softly.

Thank you.

After breakfast, she led him wordlessly upstairs. They both understood the weight. That this was the last time as they both were. If things went wrong; ever.

An endless spinning blue light surrounded her, lifting her hair like water.

He kissed her with the deepest passion she had ever felt, pouring over her body in molten waves.

His magic started lifting her off of her feet, bone deep pulling pleasure. Her head fell back and he lifted higher, fingers arcing up.

She fell back suspended in air, moaning and arching.

What little clothes she wore were pulled away by mage hands. One clawed hand running nails down her thigh.

Then he was everywhere, between her legs, against both of her breasts, against her asshole. Wet. Lapping. Suckling.

It was so much. The discipline of his mouth in quadruple. Pulsing both of her peaks, sucking undulating waves into her clit, tight circles against her hole. Slick already pooling down her backside.

She writhed as he circled her, hands conducting. Burning fingertips sweeping and arching. Pushing and pulling. Beckoning and forbidding.

Fully at his mercy she reached out for something, anything, to ground her.

"Please, ugh!-" A hard swirl against her asshole. "Gale!"

Her pleas were not answered. His phantom mouths only working faster.

Mage hands forced her legs open, two holding her arms down.

Only able to arch and twist fruitlessly, her eyes rolled back. Panting and drooling. Completely lost.

His solid hands found her thighs between his mage ones. Lifting her up to his mouth.

His corporeal mouth finally met her, pushing his tongue inside her cunt.

"Fuck!" She tried to reach for his hair but the mage hands held her in place.

Five mouths assaulting her now, she pleaded out nonsense words. Tears streaming down the side of her face. A near unbearable orgasm about to hit.

"I can't take it! Oh Gods!"

You can.

A fifth mage hand gripped into her hair, pulling her head back taut.

And you will.

Her body twisted, a full body orgasm ripping her apart. Vision going blurry. Mouth falling open into a silent scream, then a shriek pulled deep from her core. Hips bucking. Straining against his many holds. A wave of fluid striking his jaw. Every part of her tremoring, her own private earthquake.

He held his palm out flat and directed her limp body to their bed.

Her head lolled, watching him climb down to her. Kissing gently against her face, her fingers, the tips of her ears.

Words completely lost she just smiled lovesick at him.

Mustering the last of the useless puddle of her mind she formed the only thought she could for him.

I love you. I love you. I love you, Gale.

He buried his face into her shoulder, settling between her legs. Holding her lifeline into him.

Please. Please say it again.

She chanted it to him, a hymn that formed into a wave of feeling she washed over him.

He trembled against her, overcome.

Standing outside of the castle, she stared up at that distant window. The same that she had watched light in crashing pursuit, anger flared and spitting. The same that she had held his weeping curled body.

It had always been here, there was nowhere else to end this.

Gale's hand held steady to her lower back.

She smiled. That was the greatest difference.

She wasn't alone.

The witching hour was upon them, and she had to take the steps.

Working backwards she went from balcony, to ballroom, to hidden hallway.

Slow. Deliberate.

Meeting no resistance she knew he was waiting. In the dust laden grave of their love.

Pushing inside, she closed the door softly behind her.

His body was silhouetted in the moonlit window. Standing expectantly, hands leaning back on the vanity.

"So you're darkening my doorway again, are you pet?"

"Are you disappointed?"

"Oh, to the contrary." He stepped closer, a viper moving through grass.

"I have been absolutely salivating thinking of you submitting yourself to me. Finally where you belong."

"Funny, I think the reason why you want me is because I defy you. But you will never admit that to yourself."

As intended, he moved closer. Anger bristling along his back.

"Your insolence has been the bane of my reign."

Crimson eyes pouring rage.

"You. Are. Mine." He hissed, eyes starting to burn out red. "Understood?"

"Oh, absolutely." She smiled, back foot sliding out slowly.

"Just one thing, Lord Ancunin."

Her thumb and middle finger started to push onto each other.

"Go fuck yourself."

As he lunged for her she snapped her fingers and her love uncloaked behind her, his invisibility falling away.

With all the rage of a tornado he stepped forward, casting spell after spell.

The barrage sending Astarion onto his back foot, dodging but Gale's fury struck him down.

As soon as a knee met the floor Tav pushed to him.

Now, Gale!

He raised arms and shouted.

"Ad Lapide!"

The spinning square of light held him down. Already vibrating as the hold tempted to shatter.

She fell to knees. Whipping out the roll of fabric previously tied to her back. Everything she needed was here. She just had to have the will to use it.

Snatching the pot of her blood she dove under his feet, smearing the binding circle. Concentrating as much as she could on the sigils and sweeping lines as he vibrated with fury, fighting against the holding like a caged animal.

Flying to feet, the pot empty, she took the dagger held in her teeth and cut into his outstretched frozen palm.

His eyes burned into hers with shaking hate, his blood pouring into the pot.

She dove away as the hold was starting to stutter. Crouching down in a circle, drawing one line of his blood around her.

Just as the hold shattered, her smeared fingers met the beginning of her line.

The purple light spinning through the room shifted to a molten red.

Burning lines pulled from him, holding his wrists down to the floor. Already straining and screaming feral at her. Lunging with teeth.

"What have you done?!"

Black flame encircled her. She cried out as a terrible biting pain began.

"Arm! Left!" She shrieked, holding it up.

Gale snatched the tourniquet, whipping it around her bicep.

"Pull hard!" She shouted, though he already knew.

He leaned in and gave her one desperate kiss, then wrenched with all his might.

Nearly blacking out, she fell forward. Dry heaving on the floor. Her arm already felt like it was severed, her nerves screaming out in tingling anguish.

But she wasn't done yet.

Rising shaky to feet she began singing the incantation.

"O magna diaboli dimittis amica mea!"

Smeared lines of him pulled to the floor, the shifting circles opening to a wavering portal of molten light beneath the both of them.

"Sume membrum meum, carpe sanguinem meum!"

The wire around her bicep began closing, wrenching her back down to knees. Crying out, her song becoming a scream.

"Mundus meus est, redde illum ad me!"

His screams melded with hers, fighting on all fours. Spitting and straining. Smeared images of him pulling down then wavering out.

Nearly at the edge, black circles threatening her vision, she looked at him one last time. Gripping the tourniquet as her flesh sawed away beneath it.

Between screams of fury, endless curses and hateful promises, there was a flash of desperate hope in his eyes.

"Do it!" He bellowed.

"Dolor sit satis! Eum dimittere!"

As the last of his screaming mirrored form pulled down into Avernus, her flesh gave. Hungry hands pulling her limp arm down just the same.

Lines beneath them dissipating, she collapsed on the blood smeared floor. Gale rushed to her, hand lit in bright flame.

With one last tearful apology, he pressed his burning palm to the lost limb. Cauterizing it.

She could only twist, her body so imbued with pain the sensation was nearly incomprehensible.

When he released the tourniquet, she got some breath back. Adrenaline allowing her the smallest kindness.

Pushing on knees, she went to him.

He was crumpled, face down. Writhing weakly as she had been.

She almost didn't want him to look up. Terror of failure shaking her.

With her only hand, she cupped his face.

Bending up, his eyes met hers.

She smiled, hitching out a sob.

"Blue. They're blue, Starlight."

He wailed, arms gripping her to him.

They stayed like that, pouring grief into each other. Desperate pulls of limbs, shaking hopeful fingers. Parallel wailing mouths pressing into shoulders. Four tear blinded eyes. Two shattered hearts beating strong to each other.

The beginnings of insect song outside the open window a quiet hymn. Sun on its slow climb, drenching their alcove of despair with light.

Incomprehensibly, the morning had begun all the same.

Tav twisted the taloned fingers. Trying and failing to snap her thumb and middle finger.

Gale came up behind her, kissing her shoulder in a low hum.

"You'll get good at it soon, I promise."

"I know." She smiled, cupping his head with her remaining hand. Leaning into him with a sigh.

The blue light of her mage arm was distracting in her peripheral, but she knew she'd adjust. Fingers sliding gingerly along the bottom of the apparatus cupping her remaining bicep. Tied down securely over her shoulder.

"Kind of Elminster to lend the magic for this." She remarked.

"Oh I think he owed me, after telling me to level a small city."

Tav smiled, turning to him.

Concentrating, she brought her glowing blue palm to his chest.

He smiled proudly, tears spiking the corner of his eyes.

"See? You're a natural."

She pulled with her solid hand, bringing his lips to hers.

I love you so much, you silly wizard.

He laughed against her mouth, melding into her.

He's in the garden, if you want to see him.

Tav nodded, releasing him with two small kisses for good luck.

"You haven't even complimented my dress!" She mock huffed. The one he had picked out for her what felt like months ago hanging from her frame.

"Well let's see it then." He laughed.

She gave him a little twirl. The deep blue fabric swirling around her. The cape sweeping along the floor.

"Heavenly." He sighed, eyes sparkling. "Other goddesses are crying out in shame."

"You are so full of it." She laughed, pinching his side.

"A strike against my very soul. How am I supposed to weather my day with such hurtful words in my heart?" He continued, smiling wide.

"I think you'll live. But I'd love to see the mournful poetry you've written later tonight." She nuzzled into his neck.

He took a deep breath of her, then released. Hand trailing along hers as she stepped downstairs.

Drenched in the fragrant garden, she saw his shock of silver hair on a bench.

Smiling, she came up behind him, hand gently trailing along the flowers at her hip.

Tara was sitting next to him, pressing determined head bonks against his hip.

"Oh dear, it seems she likes you." Tav laughed.

He reached out for her wordlessly, and she met his fingers. Coming to sit on his free side. Resting her head into his shoulder.

"How do you feel?" She hushed, his fingers threading into hers.

"Alive." He whispered, voice wavering.

"Well, that's what I was going for, so..."

He laughed wetly. Leaning into her.

"I'm sorry." He murmured.

"I know." She hummed.

She kicked her legs out, settling into his shoulder.

His eyes caught a gleam, and as soon as he saw the gold vines twisting around her ankle, he crumpled.

She held him as big heaving sobs wracked through. Tara twirling around them, pushing her little head into him.

When he pulled back she kissed his tears away. Pressing her forehead to his.

"I missed you so much, Starlight."

He nodded, face still strained.

"I'm so glad to give you a second chance. No one deserves it more than you."

He shook his head then, and she cupped his face. Bringing her mage hand up to the other side.

"Yes. Yes, you do. And I'm not taking feedback at this time."

He hiccuped a laugh, holding her shoulders.

"Now come inside. There's breakfast and conversation, everything you could ever need. I love you and I'm so glad to see you again. Come eat."

#genuinely thank you so much to the people who are feral about this series #i did not expect people to be so into it. ya'll are too niceys to me #ascended astarion #gale x tav #gale smut #bg3 smut #screenshots by @astarionposting and @venenum-cadaverinus #lyrics from: the garden the crane wives

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