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everlastingdreams · 27 days ago

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The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire : Chapter 2

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: The Betrayal

Notes: /

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter: 2/47

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Ava had returned with the wagon. Cassian briefly told the others what was going to happen. No one sat down in the presence of the Monk. The tension hanged in the air, and when the Monk began to wake you warned Cassian of it.

“He’s bound to a tree. What harm can he do?” he dismissed your warning and fear, making a mockery of it.

You hadn’t stopped staring at the Monk, at his markings that betrayed his secret. The others seemed to be unaware, or maybe they did not even care.

“Wake up, mutt.” Cassian nudged his head roughly. “Not so frightening now, eh?” he mocked him.

The Monk’s eyes opened and fixed on Cassian right away, then slowly he took in the situation he found himself in. Your blood ran ice cold at witnessing it, as if your body tried to warn you of the danger present. The Monk was far too calm to your liking, he looked even bored by the whole ordeal, as if it was an ordinary night for him.

Cassian walked to the black stallion and led it closer by the reins. “Looks like a strong animal. I wonder how long it would last if I cut off one of it’s legs.”

There was a slight change in the Monk’s eyes, they were sharper and focused on him.

The threat shocked you, “Cassian!”

The fury burned in Cassian’s eyes when he looked your way.

“We can use a horse.” you quickly blurted out to avoid his rage.

He held the reins out in your direction a little aggressively and you tried to keep a distance while fishing them out of his hands. Never would you admit it out loud that you might fear your own brother more than the Weeping Monk.

You led the horse away from Cassian and tied the reins to a tree, as you were petting the horse’s neck soothingly you became aware of the Monk’s eyes on you. It wasn’t hard to guess that the Monk was attached to the stallion.

Cassian continued to mock his captive, “Maybe I should cut your leg off and see how you’d fare.”

The Monk stayed eerily quiet, doing nothing more than study every single person present. Cassian pulled out his knife, dangling it in front of the Monk, then threatened to pierce it through his boot. The Monk didn’t even flinch, his icy stare far more intimidating than that simple knife. It bothered Cassian that his actions went without response, it was why he decided to punch the Monk in the jaw, who took it without a sound. Ava chuckled amused, part of her must have loved that twisted personality Cassian had.

“You’re a quiet one.” Cassian laughed and hit him again.

You hated to see the joy on his face when he was injuring someone who couldn’t defend themselves, just as you hated to see that same joy when he’d often hurt you. It felt so, so wrong.

“Stop it.” you said, all eyes turned to you. “It’s cowardly to attack someone who is bound.”

Your whole body tensed right after realizing what you had done.

Cassian scoffed insulted, “Are you calling me a coward?”

He stepped away from the Monk and stopped right in front of you. The backhanded slap you received was no surprise, but it didn’t hurt any less because of it.

Cassian sneered the words at you. “The only coward here is you. That bastard would kill you first of all, you can’t even defend yourself. That’s why you’re here aren’t you? Too weak and scared to survive on your own.”

Ava cruelly chuckled. Your eyes fell to the grass. Cassian looked so pleased to see you upset.

“Enough, Cassian. We need to focus on our plan.” Bertram was trying to draw the attention away from you.

Cassian looked at you like you were nothing more than the dirt beneath his boots, then walked away. “Just because you keep defending her, doesn’t mean she’ll pull you into the bushes with her.”

It was mortifying to hear the insinuation and the laughter that followed from Cassian and Ava. Bertram on the other hand looked away from everyone.

Cassian beckoned for Bertram. “Let’s get him on the wagon.”

You stayed with the horse, the only company you felt comfortable with in that moment. They got him loose from the tree but kept his wrists bound together in front of him whilst they moved him to the wagon. Ava kept her distance, she had bound a rag around her arm to cover the wound there.

Cassian held his sword ready but looked your way just for one blink and chaos erupted instantly. The Monk took the moment of distraction to cut loose the ropes on his wrists by moving them across the blade of the sword, he kicked Cassian to the ground immediately after. Ava was running towards Cassian to help, but you ran to Bertram when you saw the Monk turn on him next. He had already managed to disarm and steal Bertram’s sword, the poor Sky Folk barely stood a chance against him. It was reckless, but you had to try and help. You ran up to them and grabbed the cloak of the Monk, giving it a strong pull so Bertram could get to a safer distance. What you didn’t anticipate was that the Monk would switch targets so fast. You barely registered the hand wrapping around your lower arm, nor how the Monk had turned and caught you in his grasp. The fight fell to a sudden stop when the sword was against your throat, the Monk was holding you against his chest like a shield.

For the first time, the Monk let his voice be heard, “Stand down.”

He caught a whift of your scent by standing so close, there was an oddity in it that he could not place.

Cassian cursed under his breath, as did Bertram. The group kept their distance.

Next, the Monk demanded, “My swords.”

None of them moved to fetch the swords they had put on the wagon, they weren’t willing to offer him any more weapons than he already had. The Monk moved just a little and a whimper escaped you.

“Shhh…” he hushed. “Quiet.”

“Let her go.” Bertram said, eyes going back and forth between you and the Monk. “Just let her go.”

The Monk held on. “What is her life worth to you?”

“What?” Cassian asked incredulous.

“Is it worth yours?” The Monk tilted his chin in their direction. No answer came and he pushed them for one, “She risks her life to protect you, and you will not even consider doing the same for her?”

Ava kept quiet, gulping down the undeniable fear she felt. For a second, Bertram looked at you apologetic and your stomach turned.

“You can try to run. Or you can die with her. What will it be?” The Monk watched the group, waiting for their decision.

You saw all of them looking at each other and then they began to retreat. Slow at first, but then they ran. Bertram, the only friend you thought you had, abandoned you… leaving you to die at the hands of the Weeping Monk. Inside you were crumbling apart, broken by the betrayal, by how truly easy it was for them to give up on you. You were blinking fast, fighting the tears from showing. The group was gone, they had fled into the darkness of the forest, abandoning you in the grasp of the monster. The Monk stood still for a moment longer, undoubtedly noticing the response you had to the group forsaking you. Then he slowly walked with you to his horse where he retrieved a rope and used it to bind your wrists together in front of you. After taking another rope, he led you to a tree and forced you to sit down against it, he bound you to it.

You barely dared to stare up at him, and even when you did you only saw how his face was cloaked in the shadow of his hood. It reminded you of how some would describe a creature who came to collect the souls of the deceased. The Monk picked up his swords from the wagon, sheathed the shorter one but keeping the longsword in hand. He inspected the ropes binding you one more time before walking away, leaving you there at the mercy of the forest and possibly even wolves.

“No! Please, let me go!” You panicked when you saw him walk off.

He ignored the plea and soon he was out of sight and into the darkness of the forest. Fear engulfed your being. How long before you would starve, or perish from thirst? Or perhaps a wolf would find itself a tasty meal tied to a tree…

“You bastard!” your scream followed in his tracks.

But the Monk did not return.

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Hours must have passed, it was dawn when you opened your eyes after having fallen asleep waiting for help that never came. You were still tied to the tree, but no longer alone. A frightened gasp escaped you when you saw the Monk stand near his horse, his back was turned to you, he was cleaning blood off of his sword with a rag he then discarded. Your eyes quickly scanned your body for signs of injuries but found nothing. But then where had that blood came from? He noticed that you were awake and walked over to you, sheathing the sword before stopping a few paces away.

“You are not Fey.” he stated.

Your eyes forced themselves away before they could betray the truth, your body shaking violently in fear of what he would do. You were defenseless like this, he could do anything he wished and you feared the worst.

The Monk spoke in a calm and even civil manner, “I found the Sky Folks. They have been cleansed.”

Ava and Bertram were dead? Your eyes fell on the bloodied rag.

“The man, Cassian, do you know where I will find him?” he asked.

You were quick to shake your head and kept your eyes fixed on the grass.

The Monk was determined to find the one who had acted so distasteful towards him. “I will find him.”

Could he sense that you were lying? You hoped he couldn’t. He came closer and stood near your boots quietly for a while, you worried he was trying to determine whether or not to kill you.

“You stole from us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” He arched a brow, questioning your sincerity.

You nodded shallowly. “Are you going to kill me?”

The Monk was quiet for the longest time, then he reached down and from reflex you flinched. Always prepared for a hand to strike. He was only inspecting to see if the ropes were still fixed.

He stated the facts. “The ring. I know you have it, Father told me he saw you take it. Where is it?”

“In my pocket.” you quietly said.

Right away he inspected your jacket for it. Well… it wasn’t in those pockets…

“Uhm…” You were wincing at the uncomfortable situation you were in.

He looked at your face expectantly.

It came out very quiet. “The pocket of my trousers.”

His hands were off of you instantly, he swallowed and was clearly trying to think of what he would do. You didn’t think he would look as uncomfortable as you were. A deep breath. “Which pocket?”

By nodding to your right, you gave him the answer.

He brushed his hand over his chin, then slowly reached over to try and search for the ring. But the moment you flinched again, he halted. “If you cooperate, I will show you mercy.”

To show that he meant it, the Monk loosened the ropes, freeing you. He must have been confident that you wouldn’t try to attack him, and you knew better than to try. You didn’t even dare to get up from the ground, it felt like your back was stuck to the tree.

“The ring. Hand it over.” He beckoned for it.

With trembling hands you fished it out of your pocket and held it out for him to take.

The Monk took notice of how you were avoiding eye contact and took the ring from your hand. He looked at it whilst interrogating you. “Why did you steal it?”

Because if you didn’t, Cassian or Aldith would either starve or beat you into submission again… Your silence persisted.

“Answer my questions.” his tone was firm.

“To earn a meal.” you hated to say it out loud.

“Poverty?” he asked.

Your father wasn’t poor at all… Yet you nodded, letting him believe his guess was right.

The Monk questioned you further. “Tell me what you know about the man you were with.”

“He was Sky Folk, the woman was his sister.” you said.

He must have known that you were being purposely avoidant. “Not him. The one who struck you. Cassian.”

Your brain tried to think of plausible lies quickly. Because you couldn’t tell him the truth and expect him to let you go after that. No, he would use you to lead him right to Cassian, to your home and neither Aldith or Cassian would be forgiving. “I only know his name and that he is a sellsword. I encountered him with the Sky Folks.”

The Monk was thinking up theories. “Did he force you to steal from our camp?”

You did not appear to be the sort of person who would be willing to take such risks voluntarily. There was not even a weapon on you.

You didn’t know how to answer. He was clearly waiting for one.

“Well?”

“Yes.”

“You fear him.” It was a statement, he sounded so certain of it.

Not a sound came out of you. As if part of you feared Cassian was still around, watching this and waiting to see if you’d betray him.

He knelt down to your level, holding the ring up for you to see. “Stealing is a mortal sin.”

“I’m sorry.” The constant urge to apologize to avoid the violence was ever present.

The Monk dropped the ring into the grass and rose from the ground again, he walked towards his horse. You were still sitting against the tree and he stopped to look at you.

“Go.” he told.

“I’m free?” You couldn’t really believe it.

“Consider this clemency.” He paused. “I will not offer it a second time should we cross paths in a manner such as this again.”

You were starring openly at him now.

“Understood?”

“Yes…”

The Monk mounted his horse and you scrambled to your feet. For just a moment his horse seemed reluctant to follow his command, the animal was looking at you. He spoke to the stallion, drawing the horse’s attention back to him, “Goliath.”

Finally, the horse listened and the Monk slowly rode away. You were still in disbelief about it all when the sunlight reflected on the rubies of the ring he had left behind in the grass. You picked the ring up and were left to wonder why the Monk would even let you keep it. Was it because you had prevented Cassian from cutting a leg off of the horse?Regardless, if he had known of the Feyblood in your veins, he would not have shown you mercy. It took you a moment before you went and climbed into the wagon, maybe you should have waited to see if Cassian would return for it, but he hadn’t bothered to return for you either so you rode back to Ravenwick alone.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88 @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake @crystallizedtime @moonlightaura03 @angrygardendeer @have-aheart @5am-cigarette @arcanenature @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream @coloursforyourportrait @koressecretidentity @nike90 @n1ghtlux @rachlovesactors @luckyzipperscissorsbat @morena-doing-stuff @the-fangirl-diaries @gipsydanger17 @heavenly1927 @phantasmalbeiing @labyrinthonmymind @asarcastic-thiamstan @rainyv-skies @stclairesplace @katjusja @isla-bell-blog @beebeerockknot @sahvlren @lancedoncrimsonwings @weird123abc @elizabeth-holland24 @kissingandromeda

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

#weeping monk #cursed netflix #weeping monk x reader #weeping monk x you #the weeping monk #cursed lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #cursed weeping monk #weepingmonk #lancelot x reader #lancelot reader #reader x lancelot #lancelot

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whomeidontknowthem · 5 months ago

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Eyes on me – an interactive whump story. Part 2.

Previous part. Masterpost. Next part.

Content warning: institutionalized slavery, imprisonment, dehumanizing language, it/its for an unhuman whumpee, pet whump.

"In folklore, any mythical, magical creature is commonly called 'fey'," they book that Lord Teelo had ordered after returning to the inn room said. "It is, of course, a wide misconception that is not accepted in any theory that has even an ounce of respect for itself. Fey is not just another way to say "magical", but a registered phenomenon different from a spirit, a magic-infused animal or a demon, and especially has nothing to do with tiny folk with wings, whose existence is widely refuted…"

It went on and on, an irritatingly salty response siting some previous debates and calling out authors the lord had never heard about. It could be entertaining in its own right – Lord Teelo was anything but impartial to loud grudges and decades old arguments – if not for his lack of experience with the topic rendering the details tedious and the fact that it wasn't idle interest that led him to seeking out the book.

The papers had been signed in half an hour, the impressive sum of money changing hands as the decision had been finalized at the spot. The arrangements had been made immediately after to transport the creature to the lord's summer house. It was to spend its last night at the auction house, and then, in the morning, they would ride – Lord Teelo in his usual carriage and his new property in an impressive cage – towards its new home.

The thrill of the purchase was sure to keep the lord awake, and he decided to spend the time on research. Learning about the kind of thing that came into his possession was paramount – after all, he didn't want it to die before its time because of his ignorance.

"Fey is defined by any reputable source as an otherworldly creature. It does not come with as many defined characteristics as an unsoundly educated person would believe: a creature from another dimension does not have to have wings and three pairs of limbs, though it is not out of the realm of possibility. A fey can look exactly as your regular cattle. The one thing that makes it fey is that it is not from the reality we live in."

The text wasn't very useful. In the two chapters Lord Teelo had managed before throwing the book into his bag and settling in bed, there was an infuriatingly little amount of actual, useful advice. The further he read, the more sure he was: he would have to figure things out by himself.

It was the thrill that came with owning the never before seen creature, one he wasn't even sure was from the same world, one, if it wasn't, that would catch the interest and desire for experiments by mages all over the world.

Now that he thought about it, maybe he should get into contact with a few. Their insight would be valuable either way – the lord was doubtful that the rainbow marks on the creature's skin could be the result of anything but magic, and magic tended to come with complications he wasn't confident he could deal with by himself.

Getting in contact with the sailors who caught the thing was a good idea, too. He'd already asked for the name of their ship and drafted a letter to a good old acquaintance in Froien. She would get the information to him in no time, even if he'll definitely have to show the creature to her afterwards. Keya, as he knew her, was curious beyond all else. Lord Teelo couldn't wait to see her face and the faces of his other acquaintances when they saw the kind of prize he'd gotten. The images of their amazement and barely hidden jealousy made him giddy with anticipation.

He wanted to make the most out of the day, and so was up and in the back garden of the auction house barely an hour after sunrise, despite the morning chill finding its way to his very bones through the layers of fabrics and furs he'd donned. A cart made into a cage with thick iron bars – provided with the purchase, of course, and with how much he'd paid Lord Teelo would be personally offended if it wasn't – was hurriedly readied and brought to the doors of the building.

The sounds of clattering and clinging and human voices burst through the open door before the creature was dragged out. It was the size of a northern wolf, bound and twisted and carried by two cautious servants. It craned its neck and bared its teeth through the muzzle, a wild animal, a scared one, and if not for the lines running down its skin and the weirdly human-like hands – with thumbs even if they were too long to actually be human – Lord Teelo would have taken it for nothing more than a dumb beast. Then it opened its mouth as wide as it could and let out a whole string of sounds – low and guttural and constantly repeating in patterns that made the lord think that it was trying – no, saying something in an unfamiliar, alien language.

He felt his pulse high in his throat, watching the creature as it was pushed inside the cage, chains around its limbs secured and the door locked behind. It kicked and threw itself against the metal only to settle back a moment later, too smart to waste energy on a fight it couldn't win.

And then, it noticed him.

Lord Teelo thought it recognized him – or maybe it was a wishful thinking fueled by the way it stilled and stared and then craned its neck to the side and forward, baring fangs in a display that was chilling even despite the binds. The unblinking yellow of its eyes pierced right through him.

He felt goosebumps creeping up his arms but refused to acknowledge it. He was safe, he reminded himself. It was tied up and helpless. No matter how it bared its teeth and tried to look scary, he was the master.

He stepped forward, lifting a hand up to place at the edge of the cart. The creature glanced at it, then continued staring. The lord smiled, "Hello there."

The creature growled and then said something. Lord Teelo continued soothingly, "No need to be so tense. We'll get to know each other -- you'll get used to me in no time."

In the light of the starting day, its skin didn't look like that startling black he saw in the dim cell. It was more grayish – still dark, though, and still unnatural. The pattern of colorful lines didn't look any less striking. His fingers ached to touch it, to feel if its skin was rough under his touch or as human-like as some of its features were. As the black short fur framing its face and ending in the middle of its back in a sort of haircut. Fey, Lord Teelo thought fervently. It had to be one. It was too strange in some ways and too familiar in others. It had to be a creature from another world. What other explanation could there be?

"Lord Teelo?" A voice came from his side and soon he was regrettably distracted, finishing the transaction and discussing the details. Servants pulled a thick piece of fabric covering the cage from view. Lord Teelo dismissed the pang of regret at their actions, reminding that he was going to have months worth of time to play around with the new toy.

He wondered what it'd be like. How it'd act. Would it be able to learn the human tongue, or prove to be too dumb for it?

He wondered where it would live. And – ah, this was an urgent question, was it not? He should send a letter to make sure it was all taken care of by the time he arrived.

Updates every 7-10 days (depending on how much time I have and how obvious the poll result is)

@isikedmyself878, @fraugustends, @otterfrost, @fuchstastisch, @3-2-whump, @the-lone-youth

Tell me to be tagged in the new parts!

#I am experiencing a very adhd urge to excuse the fact i posted it late despite not even breaking the deadline i set for myself #for once i even have an actual excuse as funerals take a looooot of energy and time to organize and attend (im fine)#but anyway! here we go! the creature has won and I decided to write some elaboration over what “fey” means in the context of this universe #the title is still a placeholder. I am yet to come up with some proper way to call this story #i usually look at the plot to figure out the best name. but since it's interactive i can't do that!#so the placeholder will be here for a bit longer. will update everything once the story gets going and receives a proper title!#whump #whump writing #captivity whump #slavery whump #pet whump #inhuman whumpee #interactive whump #writing #interactive writing #series: eyes on me

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duckprintspress · 3 months ago

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Queer Portal Fantasy Recommendations for Mad Hatter Day!

The Mad Hatter wears a hat with 10/6 written on it, and thus, October 6th has become Mad Hatter Day! Because Alice in Wonderland is an early example of a portal fantasy story, we thought it’d be fun to celebrate this holiday with a rec list of portal fantasy, isekai, and transmigration stories! All queer, of course. The contributors to this list are: Shadaras, Nina Waters, boneturtle and/or turtle, Sebastian Marie and an anonymous contributor.

An Accident of Stars by Foz Meadows

When Saffron Coulter stumbles through a hole in reality, she finds herself trapped in Kena, a magical realm on the brink of civil war.

There, her fate becomes intertwined with that of three very different women: Zech, the fast-thinking acolyte of a cunning, powerful exile; Viya, the spoiled, runaway consort of the empire-building ruler, Vex Leoden; and Gwen, an Earth-born worldwalker whose greatest regret is putting Leoden on the throne. But Leoden has allies, too, chief among them the Vex’Mara Kadeja, a dangerous ex-priestess who shares his dreams of conquest.

Pursued by Leoden and aided by the Shavaktiin, a secretive order of storytellers and mystics, the rebels flee to Veksh, a neighboring matriarchy ruled by the fearsome Council of Queens. Saffron is out of her world and out of her depth, but the further she travels, the more she finds herself bound to her friends with ties of blood and magic.

Can one girl – an accidental worldwalker – really be the key to saving Kena? Or will she just die trying?

The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Half-demon Luo Binghe rose from humble beginnings and a tortured past to become unrivaled in strength and beauty. With his dominion over both the Human and Demon Realms and his hundreds-strong harem, he is truly the most powerful protagonist…in a trashy webnovel series!

At least, that’s what Shen Yuan believes as he finishes reading the final chapter in Proud Immortal Demon Way. But when a bout of rage leads to his sudden death, Shen Yuan is reborn into the world of the novel in the body of Shen Qingqiu–the beautiful but cruel teacher of a young Luo Binghe. While Shen Qingqiu may have the incredible power of a cultivator, he is destined to be horrifically punished for crimes against the protagonist.

The new Shen Qingqiu now has only one course of action: get into Luo Binghe’s good graces before the young man’s rise to power or suffer the awful fate of a true scum villain!

Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McGuire

Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children: No Solicitations. No Visitors. No Quests.

Children have always disappeared under the right conditions; slipping through the shadows under a bed or at the back of a wardrobe, tumbling down rabbit holes and into old wells, and emerging somewhere… else.

But magical lands have little need for used-up miracle children.

Nancy tumbled once, but now she’s back. The things she’s experienced… they change a person. The children under Miss West’s care understand all too well. And each of them is seeking a way back to their own fantasy world.

But Nancy’s arrival marks a change at the Home. There’s a darkness just around each corner, and when tragedy strikes, it’s up to Nancy and her new-found schoolmates to get to the heart of the matter.

No matter the cost.

The Disabled Tyrant’s Beloved Pet Fish by Xue Shan Fei Hu

When Li Yu falls asleep reading a webnovel about a ruthless, mute tyrant falling in love with a dainty male concubine, he doesn’t expect to wake up inside the world of the novel—especially not as a fish!

Li Yu soon finds himself adopted as Prince Jing’s pet carp, tasked by a less-than-helpful Magic System with preventing the prince from becoming a cruel tyrant. If he can accomplish this mission, Li Yu will regain his human form. Yet how can he succeed from inside a fish bowl?!

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan

The Borderlands aren’t like anywhere else. Don’t try to smuggle a phone or any other piece of technology over the wall that marks the Border ― unless you enjoy a fireworks display in your backpack. (Ballpoint pens are okay.) There are elves, harpies, and ― best of all as far as Elliot is concerned ― mermaids.

“Serene,” said Serene. “My full name is Serene-Heart-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle.”

Elliot? Who’s Elliot? Elliot is thirteen years old. He’s smart and just a tiny bit obnoxious. Sometimes more than a tiny bit. When his class goes on a field trip and he can see a wall that no one else can see, he is given the chance to go to school in the Borderlands.

It turns out that on the other side of the wall, classes involve a lot more weaponry and fitness training and fewer mermaids than he expected. On the other hand, there’s Serene-Heart-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle, an elven warrior who is more beautiful than anyone Elliot has ever seen, and then there’s her human friend Luke: sunny, blond, and annoyingly likeable. There are lots of interesting books. There’s even the chance Elliot might be able to change the world.

How to Survive As a Villain by Yi Yi Yi Yi

Xiao Yu’An trasmigrated into a novel. As the homosexual young Emperor imprisoning the Male Lead of a Stallion novel. This is indeed miserable, and sad. Because of this, Xiao Yu’An began to work hard to survive. But! To those cannon fodders, even if you want to badly treat the Male Lead, can you stop sending him to my bed? Xiao Yu’An thinks that there’s nothing wrong in pampering the Male Lead, but that’s just because he wants to bathe in the glory of the Protagonist! Xiao Yu’An: “Don’t abuse the Male Lead ever again!!! You guys aren’t afraid of death, but I wanna live!!!”

Labyrinth Lost by Zoraida Córdova

Alex is a bruja and the most powerful witch in her family. But she’s hated magic ever since it made her father disappear into thin air. So while most girls celebrate their Quinceañera, Alex prepares for her Deathday―the most important day in a bruja’s life and her only opportunity to rid herself of magic.

But the curse she performs during the ceremony backfires, and her family vanishes, forcing Alex to absorb all of the magic from her family line. Left alone, Alex seeks help from Nova, a brujo with ambitions of his own.

To get her family back they must travel to Los Lagos, a land in-between, as dark as Limbo and as strange as Wonderland. And while she’s there, what she discovers about herself, her powers, and her family, will change everything…

After the Disabled God of War Became My Concubine by Liu Gou Hua

According to a popular legend, the famous God of War of Great Liang, Huo Wujiu, was once captured by an enemy country. He had his meridians severed and both his legs broken before he was thrown into the prison. In order to humiliate him, that incapable ruler of the country gifted him to his cutsleeve brother as a concubine.

General Huo suffered a great deal of humiliation. He laid in wait for three years before he shed his cicada skin and returned to the Great Jing. He treated his crippled legs, and three months later, he led his army to storm the enemy’s capital. He slaughtered the emperor, razed the capital, and finally beheaded that trash of a cutsleeve, displaying his head on the city’s walls for the next three years.

A certain university’s history lecturer received a graduation thesis depicting the legend of Huo Wujiu, and he wrote a full page of criticism for the student.

Then he blinked, and he was transmigrated into the body of that cutsleeve prince.

What are your favorite queer portal fantasy stories?

#duck prints press #mad hatter day #portal fantasy #transmigration #isekai #queer books #queer book recommendations

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bianotbia · 1 year ago

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— 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 [𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧]

˗ˏˋ you promised astarion to find a way of curing his vampirism and you'll do whatever it takes to accomplish it ˎˊ˗

⤷ a/n : This IS completely ooc and probably isn't canon at all, I'm just sad I can't play the game. I admit this could've been better but I did my best cause he's pretty and the lore is amazing <3 I hope astarion fans are kind to me :')

⤷ contains : gn! archfey warlock! reader x astarion, angst, suggestive, a bit of fluff, mentions of blood, bruises and scars, psychological abuse and trauma [wc: 4.5k]

⤷ taglist : @lemondrop-symphony / @i-literally-cant-with-this

⤷ now playing : a whole new world by zayn & zhavia ward

I can show you the world

Shining, shimmering, splendid

Tell me, princess, now when did

You last let your heart decide?

I can still hear the deafening silence of that fading morning, the sight of the corpses of my parents and brother laying so peacefully on their beds after succumbing to an ancient curse would haunt me forever. First came silence within cold halls and muted walls that listened but never replied, then came the voices and mutterings that made company to this lost soul that believed would never be happy again. As months went by, hunger grew along with the despair of meeting the same end as my family, cloaked by the shadows of an alley I longingly gazed at a fruits stand a few meters away “Why don’t you take one, child?” a voice echoed in my head “They come from the forest, from my long lost home, I can assure you they are property of no man” I look down at my wrists and the fresh red marks that still adorn them from my last theft. “Don’t worry child, leave it to me” I felt magic coursing through my veins and surrounding my body the air around me became hazy as I stumbled ahead, frightened eyes meeting the merchant’s ones who only looked away as if I was never really there. With a feast worthy of any king I indulged in fruits and breads brought to me by the wonders of magic “I see you enjoy your well deserved meal” it wasn’t a whisper anymore that talked to me “You're a smart child, I believe you already know I’m not coming from your inner self” I didn’t reply it, I never do, living in a half elvian and half human house provided me with knowledge of ancient beings and higher forces that are never meant to be fully trusted. “I’ve been observing you for a while and I might say we can be a great pair. What do you say about making a deal?” I shivered slightly and remembered the dim days that haunted me and the darker ones that laid ahead “Your unquestioning loyalty for anything you want…power, knowledge, protection…and even company”. The lively sounds of the streets seemed to die out and memories of that deafening silence flooded back “...Deal” a low chuckle echoed inside “Wonderful, I hope I can count on your loyalty from now on my dear child” unfortunately my stomach still rumbles and fear still desolates my soul “I always keep my promises”. Ancient fey runes burned across my tender flesh and just like that my broken soul pledged allegiance to something I so desperately wanted to rely on. I prayed for the gods to get back what I’d lost and they took everything I had left.

I can open your eyes

Take you wonder by wonder

Over, sideways and under

On a magic carpet ride

Among bugs and weird shadows, the party returned to the secluded camp after another tiring quest, blood dripping in the dirty ground as we all stumbled to safety “Look I really like you guys and all but honestly I prefered when I worked alone y’know, quiet as a shadow and not with a damn loud wizard, a githyanki and a flamboyant vampire” Lae’zel huffed and gripped my shoulder menacingly “I'll let it slide this time, sweety pie” with nervous laughter I lifted my arms in playful surrender “Alright, alright! It’s just a joke!”. Finally settled, we all arranged our spots and started healing the daily wounds and planning what would be our next step on this mission. The smell of food could already be felt through the camp, after getting myself clean and all patched up I look over to a certain vampire struggling to stitch a tiny cut on his forehead, “Need a hand there” he sighed and handed me a bottle of healing solution “A complete disaster it would be if I ever ended up with a scar on my face. How could I ever live knowing there is an horrendous cut on it?” I let out a giggle as I finished the stitches “It's really not that bad don't worry”. The camp grew silent as most of the party members fell into deep slumber “You know you could have asked anyone else to heal this with magic” Astarion shrugged and scoffed “Don’t really trust Gale and his big hands or Shadowheart with her suspicious stares” I hummed and gazed at the clear night sky “Did you really mean it when you said you prefer working alone as you used to?” the cicadas sang between the bushes and filled the sudden silence “Not really actually, I like your company” his amused laugh warmed my heart “Mine or these inconvenient companions” a smile grew on my lips “I'm really happy I met all of you. I just want to end this nightmare and go back to normal” the vampire scoffed “I don't think normal is suitable to describe our early lives…especially mine” I laid my head on his shoulder “Sometimes I forget you're a vampire” at least he doesn't fidget anymore when I come closer “Well I can't have this luxury” for a moment I recall hidden memories of a forgotten past “...What if I promised to find a way to heal your vampirism” he let out a tired sight “I would say you finally turned out insane” his crimson eyes might appear distant yet there's still hope calling from beyond this mask “I will make sure you have a happy ending Astarion, just like you deserve” he rises from where we were sitting “Well be my guest, let's see if you can keep your word child” a shiver went down my spine as I saw him drifting into the shadows “I always keep my promises”.

A whole new world

A new fantastic point of view

No one to tell us "no"

Or where to go

Or say we're only dreaming

Later that night, when our emotions dampened and tiredness got the best of us, everybody laid soundly on their mats, unfortunately there have been years already that I didn't go a single night without a bad dream or rather without an encounter with my patron. The whimsical scenario before me looked familiar, a lake of dark waters found ominously in the middle of a forest cloaked by the night, resembling a clear mirror reflecting the starry sky above. As always I'm standing in its middle, somewhere where I can't clearly see the borders or anything beyond. The water hits my waist while my bare chest remains exposed and vulnerable out of it, unlike he that stands before me, vines covering most of his naked body, his greenish skin scintillating under the crescent moon and antlers imposingly reaching for the sky – Oberon, the king of forests and father of all faeries – extended his clawed hand towards me. “Tell me child what afflicts your soul tonight, you seem more restless than usual” I slowly walked towards him “I need your help. I need to help him” he made a disapproving expression “Who? The vampire? Not my favorite creatures” “Please, I promised him I would at least try to search for a cure” Oberon clicked his tongue yet his gaze changed “You know that's not how things work child, vampirism is a curse for life…however I believe there's something you could try, but only if you are willing to give up a part of your own self for it” I looked defiantly at him “I did it once I believe I can do it again” his dark grin grew even larger “Oh a child in love, can anything be more sweet than that. Fair enough, the Crossed Fates is a simple ritual for lovers who are willing to change their own fates with the one of their other half” his words started to sink in and until realization hit, he hummed “However be aware that you need to be sure he’s truly in love with you or else who knows what might happen” his mocking expression didn't calm my uneasy heart, Oberon traced his fingers over my cheek and chuckled “I know very well what's the look of someone in love, it isn't about you I'm worried about…” my stomach twisted with his words “I made him a promise and I always keep my word” “Oh I'm sure about that” after vanishing in thin air I blink a few times and look around but he’s no longer there, the sky above was now starless adorned solely by a full blood moon, I looked down at my hands and saw them stained with a crimson thick liquid just like the one that now surrounded me while I got pulled back into unconsciousness, a lonesome scream ripping through my throat gets lost into the night.

A whole new world

A dazzling place I never knew

But when I'm way up here

It's crystal clear

That now I'm in a whole new world with you

Day after day we fought our enemies and got a little bit closer to our destiny yet the promise I did echoed louder each time I thought about Astarion. After days of adventures in hostile land we left the wilderness and finally arrived at the city of Baldur's Gate, a place I once called home, whose dirty streets brough memories of darker memories still imprinted on the corners of my stained mind. Before we continued our mission we decided to split up and recharge, for the worst is yet to come, everyone went on to do what they desired but not Astarion who seemed quite uneasy on this familiar ground “Unsolved business here?” he huffed “Too many to count, but I rather not think about them now” thinking about cheering him up a little bit I proposed “Would you accompany me to some drinks?” a smirk appeared on his handsome face “How can I say no to that” together we stepped into the restless pulse of the city. After a few drinks at the Elfsong Tavern I decided to show him a special place I used as a hideout for many years, through dark alleys and high roofs we finally reached the peak of a church's tower majestically reaching for the heavens above. Near the grandiose bells, was a small dusty chamber, now completely empty if not for a small chest on a dim lit corner, I picked its lock and found inside a forgotten treasure of my earlier years, tons of little relics, silver watches, golden rings, shiny daggers, dazzling through the dirt. Astarion observed the artifacts inside until his gaze landed on a certain necklace, a golden chain adorned with a shimmering emerald “What's this doing here?” I gazed at the jewelry on his hand then at him “I lied to you” the vampire furrowed his brows, his hands clenched around the stone and he took a deep breath “About what dear?” “We've already met before once…here in Baldur’s Gate” his face morphed into one of confusion and shock “We did? How? I think I would have remembered a pretty face like yours” the smile on his face didn't last long “I wasn’t so sure when we met at the beach but I knew you resembled someone. A few years ago I was at a tavern thinking about ways of completing a task for my patron when I saw a pale elf sitting nearby gazing with distant eyes at the dancing bodies” he gulped down “You locked eyes with me and came closer to where I was sitting, something told me you weren’t a normal elf. After whispering something on my ear the only thing I remember is feeling the necklace in my hand”. Astarions breathing seemed uneven and his gaze somewhere far away in time “Later that night I saw you leaving the tavern, you looked back at me a bit hesitant but just turned away” the quietness above the busy streets was comforting and the warm breeze somehow evoked those forgotten days “What a small world we live in, to ever wonder we would meet again in such circumstances'' he sadly smiled. “Would you ever live in Baldur's Gate again Astarion?” I asked “I believe there's far too many memories here which I rather let it rot in oblivion” sitting shoulder to shoulder with him I reached for his hand “I’m no foreign to the feelings you carry, I too know how it is to be lost…just a puppet in someone else's hands. But that doesn't mean you can’t find a new destiny for yourself” he gracefully intertwined our fingers and for once in so long the silence in my mind felt pleasant to my heart.

Unbelievable sights

Indescribable feeling

Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling

Through an endless diamond sky

The sky grew darker and darker, we all decided it was better to meet at the tavern and rent a few rooms for us to rest, at least among cheers and warm candle lights things didn’t feel as bad as they were, for a brief moment we could taste how it is to live a normal life, a life without whispers, dark marks or devil contracts. But he was still there, he still came to me every night, a curse and a blessing I’m fated to live till the end of my days. The cheerful laugher and loud chatting seem so distant until I feel Gale tapping on my shoulder and asking to have a word with me in private, when we found an isolated room he turned to me with a worried expression “Look I’m not gonna beat around the bush, you may not be a wizard or a sorcerer but you have great magic in your hands” I wonder where he’s trying to get and he continued “Honestly in all my years of knowledge I never heard or seen anything on recovering vampirism. So I don’t know what you're thinking about doing or what your patron promised you, it won’t work”. I opened my mouth but no words left “...How did you?” “Astarion seems a little drunk right now and is boasting to everyone how he likes you more than all of us, how you understand and cares for him, and that you promised to cure him” I let out a tired breath “Look everything is under control. I know what I'm doing” the wizard raised his hands in surrender “Alright but you know better than anyone that every magic has a price. Just promise me you won’t hurt yourself?” the whispers got louder in my ears as I motioned to leave “I don’t think I can promise you that…but sure I'll try” I left Gale behind and went to my room, unaware that behind the shadows of the night a certain vampire listened to our conversation.

A whole new world (Don't you dare close your eyes)

A hundred thousand things to see (Hold your breath, it gets better)

I'm like a shooting star

I've come so far

I can't go back to where I used to be

The evening got quieter but the thoughts inside didn’t cease, I prepared a bath hoping to scratch down all of the tiredness that weighed me down and the dirt accumulated within all those days in the wilderness. The voices in the hallways could still be heard yet they seemed far away, the stillness of the water reminded me a bit too much of my nightmares yet it still feels calming enough for a sore soul. The stars danced out of the window in the great sky above, so hypnotizing I didn’t even hear the door unlocking. “Oh what I would give up to share this bath with you darling” the familiar velvety voice pulled me back to reality “Good lord! Don't sneak on me like that” I shot a glare at him as he leaned at the door frame laughing “So…what do you say?” I muttered a consent and looked away as he slowly undressed and got into the tub. Even if we were a lot more intimate than when we started, I still wasn’t used to having someone so close to me “Don’t need to get all shy, little thief. I’m not mad about my stolen necklace” I leaned my head on the edge of the tub “That’s not really what I was thinking now” “Oh really then tell me what do you have in mind” I silenced a gasp took a breath and asked him “What would you like to do when this is all over?” he cocked his brow surprised “Huh not expecting that…well I can see myself in a splendid, enormous and bright mansion far away. Living my days in frivolous delight with someone to make me company” I can't help but let out a giggle “I'll pretend I believe that, so who would be that someone?” “Oh darling don't play oblivious, who else would I share my happy ending other than the one who promised it to me” I could feel his fingers caressing mine under the water “Must be nice living a quiet life…I’ll keep my word Astarion”. The elf had a sad smile on his face as we sat together in silence “Not that I was spying on you but I've heard your talk with Gale, so you did find a solution after all” “I could say so I guess, didn't expect you would tell everyone about it” “I might have gotten a tad excited. But about your conversation with the wizard, it's not something risky, is it?” “Don’t worry about it. I've done many rituals, it will go out fine” he hummed and I gazed at the moonlight again. “Do you love me?” Astarion widened his eyes with the sudden question, his mouth opened but didn't made a sound while I let out a nervous laugh “I’m sorry, I don't know where that came from, you don’t have to answer that… you should have seen your face tho” he anxiously furrowed his brows and averted his gaze “Well…If love means wanting to share your curses and blessings, your nightmares and dreams, the worst and best days of yours life, then perhaps…I do” now it was my turn to go speechless, he comes closer and carefully puts a strand of my hair behind my ear slowly leaning in, our lips barely touching each other like soft feathers of angels finally descending into desire. His hands wandered through my skin as our tongues moved in sync until we pulled apart breathless, he leaned back at the tub and I laid my head on his chest, slender fingers traveled along the runes on my skin while trailing the remaining cracks of a lost soul.

A whole new world

With new horizons to pursue

I'll chase them anywhere

There's time to spare

Let me share this whole new world with you

The veil of dreams fell as swiftly as a feather across the starless sky, the red moon seemed brighter than ever above the eerie waters that once again surrounded me. A little far ahead stood Oberon, with dark piercing eyes and the condescending smile that never left his lips “The big night is coming, are you ready for it child?” my stomach sank “I-I’m starting to…doubt if I should really do this” he mockingly hummed “Scared of him not loving you enough or perhaps are you finally realizing your dark destiny. Are you willing to go that far for him?” the whispers inside started to grow louder “A broken soul can’t heal another broken soul, one of them is alway bound to break a little more” the air in my lungs seemed to vanish “We still have a contract, you shouldn't get distracted by silly emotions. You know you’ll have to let him go after the ritual, why would he want a reminder of the past he so desperately wants to forget” a knot forms on my throat “Shut up!...please” tears travel down my face “I don’t want to lose him too…you’ll still be here right?” sharp claws traced my jaw and lifted my chin to look at his maddening irises “I won’t ever leave your side darling”. Once again he disapeared in thin air, under the red ominous waters I could feel palms climbing up my legs and gripping my torso, no sound left my mouth as I desperately tried to free myself from that strong grasp pulling me to dark oblivion. My heart felt like it would burst out off my chest, however I start to feel a tight grip on my wrists pinning me down on the bed as I slowly get back to my senses, only to see Astarion’s fangs dangerously nearing my neck, his touch besited when he noticed the scared look in my eyes “Pardon me darling…I believe tonight's occurrences made me a bit too excited” feeling him above me made my heart beat even faster making the grip he holds around my wrists tight but still letting go “You did seemed a bit restless, a nightmare perhaps?” I nodded “Nothing unusual about that…tomorrow at dawn we’ll leave to the forest to do the ritual” his brows raised in surprise but still he quietly assented “then I believe it’s better for me to leave the room, before any other accidents happen and so you can properly rest” he motioned to leave the bed when I reached for his bare torso, sliding my hands around his waist and softly pulling him back having my chest pressed to his back “I think I can handle you like this” feeling his stiff body slowly ease under my touch as we both fell in sweet slumber.

A whole new world

A new fantastic point of view

No one to tell us "no"

Or where to go

Or say we're only dreaming

The sun rose in a scintillating sky as we woke up at the break of dawn just as the city started its bustle and liveliness, together we made our way towards a secluded forest nearby where Oberon advised us to do the ritual. For a little while we walked in silence until Astarion thought it was too quiet “I would like to know what exactly is going to happen on this ritual, given the fact I’m practically putting my life on your hands here” I thought about it “Fair enough. There isn’t much mystery around it actually, we’ll get inside a lake and make a cut in our palms, after that we face each other with our fingers interlocked, I’ll recite an enchantment and when you least expect goodbye fangs” he seemed to expected something more “Huh quite simple, what about the whole thing of every magic has its price that Gale mentioned, what’s the price?” my throat went dry “Don’t worry I took care of that already”. It was a long way until we finally found the place mentioned, crooked trees and weavering shadows encircling an eerie lake so clear it could almost be considered a mirror, the only thing left now is to wait for the rise of the blood moon. The clock seemed to go backwards until the time finally came, I took Astarion’s hand and led him until the dark waters reached our waists “Are you ready?” I took a dagger out of my pocket “Would you let me have the honor, I might say I’m more experienced with sharp things” he took my hand into his and caressed my palm, before I could even realize the cut was made the warm liquid already dripped into the lake, he took a sharp breath and quickly made the same to his own hand. We positioned ourselves facing each other, raised our palms and intertwined our fingers, the ancient words of the incantation dripped from my tongue as I’ve known it forever until I let out a long breath. “I-I lied…about the price to pay” the grip on my hand tightened “What are you talking about? You seem to lie quite a lot for someone that claims to always keep their word, don’t you?” I looked around noticing a far too familiar shadow hidden behind the trees “Just enough for the right thing to happen. I’m sorry…it’s for your own good” when the final words of the ritual leave my lips the last thing I remember is our hands letting go of each other and our bodies falling into the mysterious water.

A whole new world (Every turn, a surprise)

With new horizons to pursue (Every moment red-letter)

I'll chase them anywhere

There's time to spare

Let me share this whole new world with you

The natural mirror reflected the downward red moon until a hand broke away from its stillness, Astarion surged from the depths of it gasping for air and coughing up the water in his lungs, as he tried to steady himself in the uneven ground below he finally sees, a bright reflection weavering through the water ondulations looking back at him, as he runs his hands through his own face a loud laugh escapes his mouth and echoes beyond the crooked trees “It worked, it worked! You did it! … darling?” the wide smile in his lips slowly faded out. As he looked around the only movement on the water was the waves around his own movements, back to the dark depths he desperately searched for the one he so much needed, anxious hands reaching for something familiar in this unanny place. After a few moments our fingertips finally meet each other as he quickly pulled my limp body out of the water, dragging it to the shallow part “No no no! What have you done?” brushing off the damped hair out of my face I felt a feverish haze spreading through all over my fles, unconsciously gripping on his shirt and coughing up the water I swallowed, he held me closely into his arms until his hands moved to my back and touched through the damped fabric of my shirt markings that are far too familiar to him, demonic imprints he was more than sure didn’t belong on my skin “Darling…what is this? What did you do?” the fear was clear on his voice as tears falled down my now crimson eyes and got lost in those hollow waters “I kept my promise…it was the only way” his face morphed into one of pain and disbelief finally seeing the fangs he was once used to having “No…No! This isn't fair…you know I hate when you play hero” I gazed at Astarion’s bright green irises and reached a finger to dry the tears that cascaded down his face “I always knew you had such pretty eyes” he rested his forehead on mine and whispered “Having you by my side was already the happiest ending I could ever wish for, my love”.

A whole new world (A whole new world)

That's where we'll be (That's where we'll be)

A thrilling chase (A wondrous place)

For you and me

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 imagine #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 imagine #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate astarion

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feyspeaker · 1 year ago

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Hey, Fey!!

I hope you're taking care of yourself with the holidays coming up 🧡🖤

We obviously see a lot of your art and love for BG3, but I was wondering if you have any Tavs/Durges that you love? (As in your own characters!)

Or who is your favorite NPC/NPC interaction outside of the companions? 🥰

Lots of love from Ellie!

Hi there!! Thank you, doing alright!! You too!! I have 1 Tav, named Iiyola! She's in the portrait I painted for my icon. A draconic sorcerer with a few points in rogue. She's shown up in a few of my pieces, and I have like 100k words into a fanfic I may never post about her being childhood friends with Astarion. Halsin is her uncle- she's half Drow half Wood Elf which is a source of great inner turmoil for her spiritually. I'm a huge Frogotten Realms elf nerd so my fanfic about her only has Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, and Shadowheart from the game, and it's exploring each of their relationships with their culture and navigating life as elves who have very different opinions on what that means. And, Iiyola kind of bridging that gap in the party as she really belongs nowhere, not Drow enough for their society, but also too "tainted" to belong in Seldarine elf society. (I personally think that the new D&D lore kind of scoured the intrigue from elf politics so I am writing with more of a Neverwinter Nights/BG1&2 approach.) She's a Vhaeraun worshiper, as her father was a high up cleric within their order, it's a whole thing and I'm rambling now! Her faith is tested when she learns that Halsin is her uncle (to his surprise as well) and she learns some ugly things about her father that really flip her world more upside-down than it already is! I only make 1 PC for RPGs and that's it (99% of the time), so I've remade Iiyola for my Durge run. I never play evil in RPGs so I'll be doing a resist run for sure. As far as outside NPCs, I'm not really sure, I do like Gortash a lot. I do think that, unfortunately, both he and Orin seem to have been shafted a bit in the plot pacing. I was so excited to get to see Baldur's Gate again and I was kind of bummed out the upper city was kind of a letdown. I wish I could say Viconia but I really dislike that canon had to be forced on us, because I LOVED Viconia in 1&2 and the canon one just isn't my Viconia. Also wish they'd brought her original VA back and given her her goddamn beauty mark!!!!!!!!!

Kind of a ranty tangent but I also think it's a shame we didn't get to see as many noble houses- I would have liked to have seen Cazador's place actually be a manor, visit Gortash's estate, etc. I loved breaking into noble's houses in the first game. :( I think it's a dreadful missed opportunity that we did not get some kind of super important ball/masquerade/social event a la DA: Inquisition where we get to dance with our LI and do some intrigue that inevitably ends in crazy bloodshed and a battle with limited gear... Oh I am rambling again.

Overall I think the NPCs are all pretty compelling, probably my favorite little nest of NPCs was the Myconid 'village'.

thank you for asking and sorry for rambling!!!

#ask

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affiesque · 11 months ago

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As promised, here’s the second half of my random thoughts and observations about Desire Catcher now that I’ve finished my latest rewatch (links aren’t working for me right now, but if you want to read the first half just click on one of the tags on this post and it should come up easily). The entire series is 24 episodes, most of which are somewhere between 35 and 45 minutes long - so, depending on what types of shows you usually watch, it might be a bit of a commitment. But I definitely think it’s worth it.

OK, time to brace yourself, as there’s a lot going on in this second part…

At the halfway mark the relationship between Luo Fei and Lu Fengping is starting to fray (oh look, it's my good friend angst again) - essentially, Lu Fengping is frustrated that his mom’s murder remains unsolved and Luo Fei hasn’t given him much in the way of clues like he was supposed to. Lu Fengping ends up working with the main villain (Bai Ya Xing), who is behind all of the crimes/murders that have been happening, to find his mom’s killer and get revenge. (I won’t spoil the details, but I will say that this particular storyline could probably have used some fleshing out, as the details and motivations don’t quite come together in the end. As I’ve noted before, the real draw with Desire Catcher is the relationships, so you can kind of wave those plot holes away - unless that sort of thing really bothers you, which I totally get.)

There’s a bit of a cat-and-mouse game going on throughout the middle episodes, with Lu Fengping getting more cagey and Luo Fei chasing after him a bit, attempting to figure out what he’s hiding. You get Luo Fei trying to casually inquire with multiple people as to Lu Fengping’s whereabouts when he’s gone for no more than a couple of hours at a time (we get it bro, you’re obsessed), not to mention lurking in the shadows near his apartment at night (yikes, dude). During this period there are definitely times when Lu Fengping looks almost guilty for pulling away and for what he’s planning to do, like he wants to confide in Luo Fei but he can’t - there’s a particular wistfulness to his expressions that’s so on point and gets me every time.

One nice little touch throughout is the many dinner dates the two leads go on - granted, one ends with Luo Fei leaving before they even eat anything, and another has him answering Lu Fengping’s question “Does everyone look like a suspect to you?” with “Yes - you look like one too,” so not exactly the most romantic situations (social skills are not Luo Fei’s strong point). But I am a sucker for those little intimate moments - misty evenings with blurry streetlights, tables piled high with steaming dishes and clinking glasses, the muted conversations of the people around them - and of course the sharing food = love symbolism.

Speaking of tropes, if you’re a fan of jealousy, then DC has got you covered. Again, no big plot spoilers here but Luo Fei finds out Lu Fengping has brought a girl home one night - not for the reason he (or anyone else) thinks, but you can tell he’s in his feelings about it (and Lu Fengping, I love you, but maybe in the future do not kidnap a stranger - even if you had your reasons and you were sort of helping her in the moment). He ends up getting arrested (twice!) for the abduction and when Luo Fei fails to help him, their “big breakup” begins in earnest - Lu Fengping saying “I shouldn’t have counted on you right from the start” got me right in the heart, ngl.

*Books as symbolism alert* - we get just one shot of some books strewn around Lu Fengping’s apartment in the second half, but I did find it interesting that the subtitles call out two of them specifically, which feels important. Those are “The Sea, The Sea” by Iris Murdoch and “It Takes More Than A Carrot And A Stick” by Wess Roberts. The former is about love and loss and romantic ideals by an author known for writing about morality and the power of the unconscious - things that seem relevant to a hypnotist, I would think. The latter actually made me laugh audibly when I noticed the subtitle: “Practical Ways Of Getting Along With People You Can’t Avoid At Work.” Sounds about right for them.

Here’s another alert - BIG GIANT SPOILERS AHEAD!! Click below with caution…

OK, so the big event of the second half is Lu Fengping faking his death(!!) in order to give him the time and space away from Luo Fei/the police to move ahead with his revenge plan. Long story short, Luo Fei thinks Lu Fengping has blown himself up, goes through the five stages of grief, figures out he’s still alive and somehow manages to be like, “Hey, thought you were dead but no biggie - let’s not even hug it out and instead just go right back to teasing each other and solving crimes - it’s all good.” Honestly, I’m glossing over a lot here - how absolutely devastated Luo Fei (and everyone else, for that matter) is when he thinks Lu Fengping is dead, how they finally yell a bit about their feelings and come clean about certain things when they reunite, how the OST rips your heart out again and again in these moments (“Did we meet just to be torn apart?” - I mean, come on), how relieved Lu Fengping looks when he realizes that Luo Fei doesn’t hate him for what he did, how Luo Fei suddenly can’t stop smiling (you’ve come a long way, baby). I think these are probably some of the strongest scenes in the entire show, but I must admit that the way they don’t truly address the fallout of something this intense still bugs me (stay tuned for a fic I’m writing on that very topic, in case that sort of thing interests you - and @thinkonce-acttwice, I ✨promise✨ I’m actually working on it!).

I know I haven’t mentioned Liang Yin in this second-half review yet - what happened/happens to her still plays a major role in the story of Lu Fengping’s mom’s death. I won’t give the details here, but do note that there are some flashback scenes of her getting attacked that might be rough for some viewers - so please keep that in mind. However, aside from a couple of moments where the men in her life feel the need to protect/shelter her despite her being quite capable of handling things herself, I will say that the story gives her back some agency, and it does feel as if by the end she’s come to terms with her past and is in a good place overall. And the relationship between her, Luo Fei, and Lu Fengping gets a really nice resolution - a sort of found family thing that brings them all together.

There’s lots of plot movement as we work our way through the final episodes - the big bad villain is vilaining, there’s an evil nurse who’s in on the shenanigans, poor Professor Ling (Lu Fengping’s mentor and fellow hypnotist) gets accused of being a fraud and ends up in the hospital, Lu Fengping almost stabs himself in the heart while hypnotized by Bai Ya Xing (though of course Luo Fei shows up in the nick of time to save him - I swear, despite knowing that this is just a “bromance” show, every time I watch that scene there’s one split second where it seems like they’re about to lean in and kiss - oof), poor Liang Yin gets kidnapped by the big bad villain (unfortunately, more “man pain”). I tell you, this show is a roller coaster ride every freaking episode.

I won’t spoil the final ending too much, but rest assured Liang Yin is fine. Stuff happens, Lu Fengping ends up in prison - though he sort of puts himself there on purpose, sacrificing himself for Luo Fei, even if he doesn’t come out and say that’s what he’s doing. And he basically gets a form of justice for his mom’s death. The very last bit sees him return from prison on parole - he reunites with the police team and Luo Fei in a slightly cheesy but rather touching moment, though, again, even just a quick hug would’ve been nice…

Bottom line, I love all of them, your honor, and will probably never be over this show - there’s so much to unpack in terms of the role of fate in our lives, how broken people can find something in each other to live for, how to forgive others and, importantly, yourself.

OK, again, this one got away from me, and I know I’m probably forgetting like a million little things, but hopefully I’ve managed to entertain at least one other person with my ramblings. And if anything here has sounded intriguing, please check this little show out so it gets the love it deserves! 🖤

#desire catcher #lu fengping x luo fei #lu fengping #luo fei #my recap

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mjwiththefangs · 8 months ago

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Trickery & Daggers - Chapter 5

In which we get to know everyone a little more. Also on AO3 Masterlist Word count: 2768 Warnings: None.

Wyll’s Patron came for him that night as they made camp. Now, he sports a pair of horns, as well as other warped demonic features. When he asks Morgana how he looks, she softens and smiles at her chivalrous friend, uncertainty painted in every line of his face, and with a chuckle, she reassures him that she sees quite the handsome devil. He laughs, and again, she is glad to feel that she can lift his spirits.

Though she can't help but feel bitter for him; it would seem that no good deed goes unpunished after all.

Karlach, meanwhile, wants to do something nice for Wyll, she tells Morgana how she’s never had a friend like him, who’d stick their neck out for her. It resonates with Morgana that neither has she, and crosses her arms, silently mulling this over and nodding at the appropriate moments.

Friends. Hm.

She ends up finding Shadowheart after. The whole day the somewhat sour cleric has been glaring at her, and Morgana finds that her curiosity outweighs her irritation.

“Who do you worship?” Shadowheart blurts out, bristling.

“I- What?” Morgana blinks, taken aback, “I don’t worship anyone. Why?”

The dark-haired woman narrows her eyes in suspicion.

“You don’t follow Selune?”

“The- moon lady? No!”

Shadowheart relaxes, marginally, then gestures towards Morgana’s eyes.

“Then those marks that appear around your eyes- where do you channel your magic from?”

Ah. That.

She supposes that they do resemble the marks of Selunes followers, now that she thinks about it. Shadowheart is waiting.

“Well. Not from any god or goddess, that’s for sure.” She mutters.

She hasn’t ever been able to discuss her pact with others, not that she’s had the opportunity anyway and she’s not even sure if her patron would object. Seeing as her lips aren’t magically sealing themselves shut, and she senses no ill will of her patron, perhaps she can speak of it after all.

So, tentatively, slowly, she speaks.

“I am… a Warlock. My power comes from the Fey.” She scrunches her nose in thought. There's a faint stirring of magic brushing the back of her mind, telling her that’s enough, unwilling to divulge more to this particular cleric for now. “I can’t really tell you much more than that.”

“Huh. Two in one party. Though I suppose it is nice to know we only have one devil on our collective shoulders” Shadowheart seems satisfied with her response, casually flicking her braid over her shoulder.

But Morgana’s curiosity is piqued now.

“What about you?” She asks, “Who do you worship?”

Vixen-like eyes assess her cautiously, but without hostility. Finally, it seems Shadowheart reaches a conclusion. She raises her chin.

“I worship Shar. The Lady of Darkness.”

The Lady of Loss herself. No surprise of her patrons' reluctance there, they never were keen on the goddess. All the black and purple ensemble of her fellow half-elf suddenly make a lot more sense, though in fairness, Morgana did rather like the colour palette regardless.

Shadowheart is waiting.

Morgana nods, unperturbed. “... I always was a fan of her colour scheme.” To her delight, Shadowheart snorts a laugh. “Seriously though, who you follow is your business, not mine. But thank you for telling me.”

The Cleric smiles at her, and it's the first time her expression has been so warm and genuine. She looks almost like a different person.

“Well. Perhaps I should have told you earlier. Who knew you’d be so… pragmatic.”

“To sharing secrets, then.” Morgana chuckles, “But in the spirit of inquiry, what else can you tell me about yourself? None of us really know one another yet.”

“Another time, perhaps. I’ve shared enough for now.”

With what little Morgana understands of Shar’s ways, she knows secrecy is paramount to her followers, and so she nods, bidding Shadowheart a good night.

Now, though, the idea is planted in her head. She should ask the others about themselves. They’ve been travelling for a few days now, and it seems they will be stuck together for more, surely they should get to know one another?

How strange, she’s been alone for so many years, and she always thought that suited her just fine. Now though, the thought of returning to that life, to how she lived before, settles in her chest, hard and cold and lonesome.

Her brows crease. No. No, it’s fine. She’s always managed. The only one she ever needed was her patron, and even then she always relied on herself, both before, and following the events of forming her pact.

…Still. It certainly couldn’t hurt, getting to know her companions.

The Warlock approaches Lae’zel, ignoring the feeling of a pair of ruby orbs trailing after her. The gith’s sharp gaze pierces her when she stops before her tent.

“Speak.”

Yeah, no, this was a bad idea, she decides, pivoting on her heel.

“Wait.”

She freezes. This is it, she has offended the fearsome warrior, and will meet her end at Lae’zel’s blade.

“You wished to speak to me, did you not?”

Always so direct. Straightforward, even. Morgana gulps silently.

“Yes, but it’s, um, it’s nothing important.” Smooth.

Lae’zel straightens her posture. Despite her lacking in height, she poses a formidable presence. Her expression is unreadable.

“What were you seeking?” Her head cocks to the side, “Questions about the creche, perhaps?”

Huh, Morgana isn’t dead. She watches the gith closely and feels her tension ease.

“Actually, I was hoping to know a little more about you. I’ve never seen a Gith before.”

“I would imagine I am your first”

Lae’zel is proud, and uncomplicated, she says what she means and is surprisingly refreshing to speak with, Morgana finds. She is fearless and driven, her only will to serve her Queen and ascend to the Astral sea.

They spend some time, not as much as Morgana would like, discussing the astral planes, and Morgana feels as though she understands her companion a bit better than she did before. Lae’zel is a formidable ally, and Morgana finds herself feeling just a bit safer knowing that Lae’zel is watching their backs.

Gale is equally excited to glean from her knowledge of astral planes after her conversation with Lae’zel. He tells her about Tara, his tressym. She’s never seen a tressym before. He happily tells Morgana about evenings with Tara, indulging in a glass of wine, occasional poetry and sitting by the fireplace.

He asks her if she is practiced in magic.

Her mouth quirks into a grin.

“I am. Though perhaps not the same as an accomplished wizard, such as yourself.” She allows her magic to flare, the marks flashing around her eyes, and holds up a palm of Eldritch, fae-touched magic. Silently pleased, she notes the lack of interference from her patron. They are happy to allow her to share this time.

Gale's face lights up, joyful in his curiosity. “Aha! Another warlock, I did have my suspicions, mind you.” He rubs his chin speculatively, eyeing the magic above her palm. “Hm, though not quite the same as Wyll. You draw your power from the feywilds.”

She laughs, and feels the silver-bell joy of her patron echoing the sentiment. “A very good deduction, Gale of Waterdeep!”

She closes her hand, dissipating the magic. The wizard’s enthusiasm is infectious as he jumps into quizzing her about schools of magic, what spells she knows, cantrips, and how she learns.

“Do the spells just come to you, from your patron? Or do you have to study them first? Can you learn from studying, as wizards do?” He fires off, and then suddenly switches trajectory, “Ah, the Archfey you serve; they aren’t offended by this, perchance? Are you able to discuss your pact?”

Morgana finds herself pleasantly amused, and again there is no interference or ill-will from the Archfey. “I can study spells, to an extent, depending on their will. I can be gifted spells that she finds fitting; she especially thought Faerie Fire and Tasha’s hideous laughter to be such spells!” She shakes her head, smiling. “As for offending her, well. As far as I know, only one human has ever done so, and they paid with what they loved, if I recall!”

Then, she turns a bit more sombre, chewing on her lower lip as she thinks.

“I can’t discuss much of my pact. Not now. Fey can be very… particular.” In truth, she doesn’t want to, especially seeing that she can’t very well lie. Recalling the events of her pact can be… unpleasant, from a painful part of her life that she’d rather forget. Her pact is forged from a single trade; she cannot forget what she gave.

To her pleasant surprise though, Gale laughs, good-naturedly. “Ah well, perhaps we can compare notes another time. I’m always keen to learn more, a wizard's work is never done!”

She agrees, finding that it's something she would genuinely enjoy.

It’s nice to have something to look forward to.

She knows those cerise eyes have been following her all evening. He’s been watching with thinly veiled amusement and he watches her still, expectantly.

There’s a long silence between them, and his expression twinkles with mischief.

She doesn’t greet him, not really. Despite his assistance in the grove, she hasn’t really spoken to him, nor does she know anything about him. Time to remedy that. She clears her throat.

“Tell me about yourself, Astarion.”

“Oh, what’s to tell- I already told you I'm a magistrate, it's all rather tedious, really.” He breezes.

Liar.

She can’t help herself. “Does anything honest ever leave your mouth?”

He laughs. The damned elf actually has the audacity to laugh at her while she scowls, feeling petulant. She shifts her weight to one leg, jutting out her hip as she does so.

“Something funny?” She asks dryly.

His laughter fades, though he still looks bemused, peering down at her. The gaze isn’t unpleasant, but she’s quickly learning that he’s rather damn perceptive.

“You’re favouring that leg.”

Too damn perceptive. She doesn’t respond straight away.

Years of caution have served her well, and despite the comfort she’s beginning to find in her companions, she is still not prepared to trust them with her weakness. She thinks fast. She doesn’t need to tell the whole truth, but a half truth will do nicely.

“Pulled a muscle.”

“Of course, my apologies.” He tips his head in a performative bow, that perfect smirk not faltering. In doing so, he leans closer to her, his perfume washing over her senses and her pulse spikes.

She swallows and takes a tentative step back, creating space between them again, his eyes following her movement. She again silently curses him; he’s damn handsome and he knows it, and he certainly knows how to use those charms of his.

Realising the secretive, smooth-talking elf will likely not be sharing anything more about himself, or anything honest for that matter, she gives in. She can deal with him another day.

There’s one thing she has come to realise about Astarion though. He may be a devious flirt, but he’s outright vicious as a rogue. He’s cunning too, and she knows already that her patron likes him.

So, resigning herself to understanding him better another time, she excuses herself and decides to wait around the fire until it's time for her night watch and then she can pull out her journal and fill in more pages.

Later on, Morgana sits, spent and exhausted, beside the crackling flames. The sound is soothing, a comfort she has long sought out during her life. Stormy, weary eyes watch as the fire dances and pops and sparks and she hums appreciatively, basking in its warmth with palms outstretched.

Beside her, the book lies partially forgotten, the quill expectantly laid alongside its cover. Her thoughts are laid bare upon its pages; childhood, youth- incoherent noise scrawled upon the parchment surface, her study notes on literacy, her constant hunger while living rough, and crude sketches of things she's seen alongside them.

Tonight, her journal is far from her mind as she drifts off, welcoming the permeable heat of the fire and the lulling embrace of sleep.

But, the journal is not unnoticed by another. An elegant pale hand plucks the journal and quill from the earth noiselessly, gracefully.

Ruby eyes flit over the pages. The crude sketches, messy and hastily drawn, recount the recent sights and events in varying detail. He recognises the crashed nautiloid ship, and skims the notes surrounding it.

“Why does a ship need sphincters?” he reads aloud with amusement colouring his voice. The word ‘sphincters’ is spelled incorrectly, scribbled out and rewritten a couple of times before finding the correct spelling, complete with an exclamation mark.

He flips back a few pages. A, presumably, forgotten appointment is crossed out for the Blushing Mermaid, first light! The words ‘fucking mindflayers’ are scrawled bitterly beside them.

He chuckles once, and nods his approval of the unfinished mermaid sketch on the opposite page.

He flips the pages back in bigger chunks now, catching glimpses and peeks into her life, spotting idle thoughts dotted through the pages, including ‘cold day’, ‘another headache’, a few odd instances of just ‘hunger’ that he finds himself very much relating to. Then his brow creases in thought. He should have reached the first page by now, yet it still appears as if he is barely halfway through, and even the pages are beginning to look a little more old and worn and yellowed with time and he clicks his tongue in realisation.

She's enchanted the journal; infinite pages, so she never needs to carry more than the singular tome with her. His expression softens as he glances at the messier writing, the simpler drawings and the clumsy spelling. The repeated lines written by unsteady hands. Most of it is in common, but he recognises the few bits of script in very rough elvish.

The journal snaps shut suddenly, and he rolls his eyes with an irritated tsk.

“I was reading that.”

“It's private.” She glares, well squints really, at him from where she's propped up on one elbow on the ground, her hair mussed up from her brief sleep. She flicks her wrist and the journal jerks into her hand.

Astarions lips curl up and he cocks his head, facing her fully.

“Neat trick.”

Morgana huffs and narrows her eyes, unamused, sparing a quick worried glance at the journal before tucking it away back in her pack. She seems to squirm under his gaze.

“You seem tired, darling, perhaps I should take over the watch?” He suggests, lowering his voice to a smooth purr. He studies her, as she blinks and considers him. The way she worries at her lower lip, the bags under her eyes and smudged eyeliner.

He isn’t jesting when he says she looks worn out. She relents with a heavy sigh, and sluggishly gets to her feet, brushing dust and dirt from her clothes. It's even more apparent now, standing unsteadily on her feet, that she’s favouring her leg. The little half-human is very unbalanced, her full weight bearing on one side, and under closer examination, he realises her left leg is not completely straight. Up until this evening, she’d been hiding it well.

Ah. So this isn’t something new.

This is habitual, the way she adjusts her posture. She blinks sleep from her eyes, and it dawns on her that he’s watching, and she shifts, ever so slightly, but just enough to be stood straight, her crooked leg carefully turned to appear not so.

She clears her throat, and her guard is up again.

“In any case. If you’re taking over my watch, I'll retire for the night.”

Astarion says nothing. He bends at the waist and opens his arm towards her tent, wishing her ‘Sweet dreams’ as she passes him. Her gait is practised, but in her exhaustion, it fails to hide the oh-so-subtle limp in her step.

Curious. He rubs his hand over his chin in thought. He had assumed he was getting to her lately, luring her in with flirtations and suggestive words. He’d seen that pretty flush on her cheeks, his sharp ears had heard how her heart sped up. Yet, she still maintains a distance.

He would have to try something different.

Even more curious, he realised, he’d seen the scrawl near the start of her book. Her literary difficulty with reading and writing, had she taught herself? What about Elvish?

Oh the things he could murmur in her ear in their shared tongue.

Astarion decides that he rather liked the sound of that, actually.

#mj writes #fanfiction #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #bg3 fanfic

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anomanderr · 8 months ago

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Under Fey Stars

Astarion meets a strange eladrin who evokes even stranger feelings in him.

The nautiloid shook and careened to one side, Astarion felt himself lift off the ground, managing to catch at a pillar to keep himself from being dashed against the walls. He had to get out and quickly. As he raced through strange, chitinous halls filled with grotesque architecture that pulsed eerily like flesh, he heard a voice, “Kin! Cousin! By Titania’s light hear me!” He turned to look at one of the many pods lining the walls and found what appeared to be an eladrin. Dark of skin and with silver curls, ears longer and sharper than his own, it was striking figure. Silvery swirls spread along one side of its slender face, careening out from its left eye. Its eyes were uniform pools of liquid amber— no pupils to be found.

“Ah, what a wonderful vision of freedom you are, my kin. Release me and let us be off this monstrous vessel of aberration-make!” it said, looking at Astarion with those large, trusting eyes. In a moment his decision was made and he found himself hefting open the lid of the pod, to his own surprise. Perhaps it was those trusting eyes, perhaps it was the earnestness with which it called him kin. But he soon found an eladrin of autumn slumping into his arms. Those eyes suddenly widened as they bore into his own. “I am Tavir, and you are?”

“Astarion, but we do not have time for pleasantries, get up! And run!” He growled, half dragging the eladrin as he broke into a run towards the blasted walls of the nautiloid. Outside, the acrid, burning landscape of the Hells rushed past as red dragons spat fire at the vessel.

————————————————————————

The flames of their camp lit the silver swirls on Tav’s skin and his amber eyes seemed to glow as they gazed placidly at the leaping flames. He held a book open in front of him, borrowed from Gale, but he seemed lost in the heart of the flames. It came as a surprise then, when Astarion whispered in his ear, “What is my fey friend doing?”

Tav’s amber eyes remained enraptured by the flames as he said, “Contemplating the end of eternity.” A decidedly morbid thing to say for a fey. Perhaps the dire situation was getting to him after all, no matter how carefree he seemed otherwise. Thoughts of doom aside, he had seen the eladrin’s stolen glances; those eyes were hard to miss when they were searching for his face.

“Would you like me to steal you away from camp? A night under the stars with your beautiful body under mine would be a pleasant break from slumming it with these fools, no?” Perhaps a bit too direct, but he’d never seen Tavir mince words before and he liked to think he was a good judge of character with over two centuries of “conquests” as proof of the fact.

Golden eyes bored into crimson ones as Tav smiled quietly, almost knowingly but Astarion saw what he always sees in the eyes of his marks— hunger.

“I was wondering when you might ask me this, I would much rather spend the night gazing into those eyes and that face, yes.”And that was all he needed to guide Tav by the hand into the woods; from the Feywild or from the Outer City, they all hungered for him just the same.

Soon, Astarion found himself naked and against an equally undressed Tav — not that the eladrin ever wore anything more than the barest wisp of clothing at any time — with them pressed against a tree. Tav eagerly opened up under Astarion’s tongue, granting entrance and moaning against his mouth as he did so. The eladrin’s lips were deliciously warm and smooth. Astarion could feel fey blood calling to him. Tav’s hands clutched at Astarion’s locks as he pressed himself against him, their erections straining against each other in blissful friction. If only Astarion could somehow tell him what he was, as he pleasured Tav perhaps, he might acquiesce and allow Astarion to taste him. He’d never tried to feed on a person before but perhaps a mind clouded with pleasure wouldn’t register what he was saying until it was too late? Just as he was about to get on his knees, Tav broke their kiss and looked at Astarion with those eyes. Flush with passion, desire and... sympathy? Astarion had never liked how Tav seemed to know exactly what he wanted, how he never asked for more than what he wanted to divulge. Those eyes were always too knowing and now they seemed to plumb his depths. As suddenly as their kiss broke, Astarion found himself falling into those eyes, falling down an endless, amber chasm. Those eyes seemed to grow, enveloping him until there was nothing to the world but that liquid, amber pool. And out of that sea of gold emerged bliss. A warmth spread from his unbeating heart to the tips of his fingers, to the very tip of his quivering cock. Waves of pleasure burned through his nerves; pleasure the likes of which he’d never conceived. It was like every fibre of his being thrummed in response to those eyes. A thousand kisses peppered across his body, soft caresses from unseen hands left him shuddering. He could taste blood, sweet and almost cloying in his mouth. He drank it in desperate gulps as moans of pleasure escaped him. Every nerve in his body screamed in pleasure, such warmth surged within him that he could almost believe he was alive.

Heat rose within him as he neared his climax and the golden light that obscured his vision faded away, taking with it the exquisite pleasure thrumming within him. As a growl of protest rose in his throat he felt a warm wetness envelope his cock and looked down to find Tav on his knees, those fine lips wrapped around his cock and those amber eyes looking at him hungrily.

Tav’s tongue glided along Astarion’s length, pressing and twirling against the head as he swallowed him whole. The inexplicable pleasures of before, combined with the hot walls of Tav’s throat had Astarion whimpering and thrusting himself desperately into the eladrin’s mouth. Tav teased one of Astarion’s nipples with a hand, eliciting soft moans from him, while the other gripped the vampire’s hip. Chiseled like alabaster and as pale in the moonlight, his hips thrust with increasing urgency. Astarion’s hand clutched Tav’s tight, silvery curls as he breathed out, “Tavir... I’m close!”

The eladrin only seemed to enthusiastically redouble his efforts, his hands gently cupping Astarion’s balls. Astarion’s climax crashed through him as he slammed himself into the warmth of Tav’s mouth. He could still feel the phantom taste of that sweet blood and it only heightened his climax as he emptied himself into the eladrin’s mouth, who seemed to be enthusiastically drinking every drop.

With a few final kisses to the head of Astarion’s cock, a tongue along his foreskin and little playful bite, Tav cleaned up the pale elf and sat up to look at Astarion. The eladrin’s lips glistened with the vampire’s seed, quickly licked away and consumed with a seductive look at the elf. Astarion laid down on the ground and Tav lay his slender self on Astarion’s broad chest, gazing at the stars in the sky, seemingly already lost in thought. Having caught his breath somewhat and the fog of lust lifted, Astarion was still utterly confused as to what had happened. Sex was not something he enjoyed, he’d not for a long time now. He had expected the same routine, the same feelings of disgust and the same anger at his victim for not seeing him for what he was. If only they would see, if only they would run. Cazador would punish him of course, but something deep inside him would rather face Godey’s lashes and needles than be soiled in innocent blood.

Tonight had been different, between the fey’s hungry and knowing eyes and the visions that had gripped him, he did not know who was the hunter and the hunted. Was Tavir an Enchanter? Come to think of it, he’d never seen the eladrin hold weapons or even conjure as much as a bolt of fire. He’d simply looked at one of the goblins outside the Grove and the creature had dropped to the ground twitching. Between the demands of battle and Laezel’s love for beheading enemies he hadn’t been able to see what exactly Tav did to their enemies; except that he would wade into their midst and they’d always fall seemingly unharmed to then most likely die to Laezel’s blade or his own arrows. He never gave that a second thought, he knew little of magic. But perhaps he should have, he’d heard of fey like Tav, beguilers who wrapped mortals who wandered into the Feywild in visions and fancies so beautiful they failed to eat or drink or sleep.

The blood... good gods the blood he’d tasted; that it was not real was clear to him now. It would only make sense to conjure that if Tav knew. His breath must have caught for Tav turned to rest his chin on Astarion’s chest, those amber eyes catching crimson ones, “I know, calm down. I knew the moment you touched me on the nautiloid. I may be as oblivious of anything outside my own head as any fey but I am still eladrin” he said, smiling and turning away, resting his face on Astarion’s chest to gaze at the stars again. “Do you have a death wish?” Asked Astarion, not too kindly. He’d resented his fey kin for two hundred years now. They lived in their little realm, oblivious to the plight of their kin in the Prime. He’d imagined what it would be like to slip into the Feywild, on nights when Cazador had been particularly cruel, nights when he’d been delirious from the pain and crying out to the Seldarine. A realm of beauty, watched over by a golden queen whose mere gaze was said to fill creatures with utter bliss. Alas, he’d been no true fey and none of the Seldarine, it had seemed, would stop their frolicking to help one wayward child of theirs. This eladrin had had everything and had thrown it all away to enter the Material and now flirts with danger like it is a game. Amber eyes caught his own again, there was something inscrutable about eyes with no pupils, pulsing slowly to the rhythm of the eladrin’s heart. There was something ancient there, something sad, a strange void behind that gaze. He knew nothing ever truly changed in the chaos of the Feywild and that the eladrin were almost eternal, as eternal as he himself was, which made it all the more stupid for this one to leave the Feywild. Just as he was contemplating saying something to fill the silence, Tav spoke, “Would you like to taste real blood? I have never tasted it or meat for that matter. I can’t imagine I conjured anything close to the real substance.”

“So you do wish to die. Or is this some trick? I will not be pulled into some little fey prank. You call me kin, you wrap me up in enchantment and now offer your neck?” Astarion pushed himself away and sat up, whatever this was, Tav knew too much, was being much too familiar and nonchalant for it to be genuine. Even if it was a genuine offer, what sort of madman offered his neck to a vampire? A vampire who clearly seduced him into the woods to have his way with him.

“I offer it because I can see you want it. I have never been hurt before or even seen my own blood so perhaps you should take this chance before your reaction makes me imagine the worst about the pain I might feel and decide otherwise” said Tav, and pulled the gauzy silk drape of his off the forest floor and onto his shoulder for warmth. Astarion was baffled, well and truly caught off guard for the first time in two centuries. Here was a person who had not only known for days that he was a vampire but was now willingly offering him his neck. Those eyes were too honest, his behaviour too casual for this to be a trick. If it was a trick, Tav was certainly a far better liar than Astarion could ever hope to be.

Sidling close to him, Astarion looked at Tav’s neck, the deep brown, almost reddish skin glistening in the moonlight under a fine sheen of perspiration. It would be easy to assume that Tav was some kind of drow if not for those eyes and the silvery markings that every elf would know to be from exposure to the wild magics of the Feywild.

“Do you mean it?” Astarion asked, despite himself. He should be taking what was offered without question, he knew. But something in him, something about Tav perhaps, made him hesitate.

“Of course I mean it, if I did not mean I would not have said it. What do you take me for? An Unseelie?” came the reply, from a seemingly miffed Tav. Astarion silently moved closer, his breathing deepening as he smelled the eladrin’s blood just beneath the skin. He nuzzled Tav’s neck, held his head with a hand and sank his fangs into flesh. Tav gasped and reached for Astarion’s other hand, holding it in a vice-like grip as he squeezed his eyes shut. The blood that flowed into Astarion’s mouth was infinitely more delectable than that conjured fantasy, it sang inside him and he fancied he could almost taste the forests of the Feywild in it.

Astarion drank like a man parched for a tenday, letting the sweet nectar of eladrin blood sing to him and his thirst to control him. His first taste of sentient blood would have ended in death if not for the feel of Tav’s hand growing slack in his own. There had been no resistance even as his life’s blood was being drained away. Did he actually have a death wish? But no, it was not a death wish, realised Astarion, it was trust. The hand that gripped him earnestly desired support, out of a desire for him to be sated, Tav had offered his neck. Perhaps in return for his kindness on the nautiloid or perhaps it was true that Tav had never felt pain and thought it worth a new experience of something bad so his companion could be sated. Whatever it was, Astarion knew, Tav had trusted him and he would not betray that trust. With that thought, the red haze of his thirst lifted and he gently released Tav’s neck, lifting his fangs from the wounds he’d made.

Astarion could not tell if those solid amber eyes were disoriented from the blood loss. Tav reached out with a finger and wiped the blood dripping down the corner of Astarion’s mouth, licking the blood off his finger. “It seems I bleed as red as the rest of you and don’t taste half as good as I imagined” he said, making a face. “Trust me, darling, you were utterly delectable” said Astarion, baring his bloodied fangs in a grin. Astarion almost jumped out of his skin when Tav slumped against him, arms around his neck. “Are you... alright?” Astarion asked awkwardly, bracing himself against the ground with both his arms. “Mmhmm” came the reply, hummed against his throat. Astarion swallowed nervously and said, “You were my first... the first I’ve tasted.”

“Well, I hope it was everything you dreamed it would be. For my part, pain was not as bad as I thought it would be, perhaps I’ll let you do this again”, came the slurred reply.

“I think we better get you to your tent before you drool all over me, darling. And pain, in my experience, comes in degrees” he said, managing to recapture at least some of his poise.

“A moment... let me recover. Unless you’d like to act out your childhood fantasies and carry me in your arms like a damsel in distress?” Tav asked, still mumbling against Astarion’s neck. Astarion sighed, “A lifetime of fairytales failed me on that ship when I heard you calling to me.”

“I think we both know the kind of fairytales you’re most familiar with, Astarion, and those are not ones where eladrin make an appearance”, said Tav. He felt Astarion stiffen against him. Tav sighed and got up, seemingly regretting his casual barb. It had stung but the fact that Tav seemed to know more about his past than he’d told him gnawed at him. Unsteady on his feet but managing to hold onto the tree nearby, Tav turned towards their camp. “Do not presume to know me, faerie”, Astarion said darkly as he picked himself up and gathered his clothes.

“And that tells me I was right, little bat.” The words were a sultry whisper in Astarion’s mind as he watched Tav’s naked form walk toward camp, his gauzy wrap fluttering in the wind from round his shoulders.

Over two centuries and not once had anyone prioritised Astarion’s pleasure; he was doubtful if they had even thought of anything other than taking their own pleasure from his body. Here he was now, having been served in more ways than one, giving nothing in return, it would seem, than the pleasure of his company.

No, Astarion did not like this eladrin one bit and yet as he walked back to camp behind Tav, watching that deep brown butt swaying from side to side, he couldn’t help but smile, as wide a smile as he’d ever worn in over two centuries of life.

-————————————————————————

The next morning, Astarion soon realised that no good thing that happened to him could ever be just that; a good thing. With the rising sun, the eladrin’s silvery swirls sparkled as they usually did but with the addition of two prominent puncture wounds in his neck, sparkling silver. Not a pair of eyes in camp that wasn’t drawn to those wounds and Astarion knew he would have to come clean that day. Gale was already eyeing him suspiciously, knowingly. Blasted wizard, forever taking note of things he shouldn’t.

He met Tav’s eyes over the dying camp fire and heard his voice in his head, “Perhaps we should tell them? Lest they should think I’ve grown overly fond of the stirges in these forests.” Tav was smiling quietly, almost mischievously.

Astarion sighed again. He did not, in fact, like this eladrin one bit.

***

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this-bard-cannot-sing · 14 days ago

Text

The Worthy

Masterlist

Read Chapter 2 Here

Chapter 3 - The Glow

Summary:

"Dinner is served," announced Gale.

Gale passed out a menagerie of cups, bowls, plates--whatever they could find on the road. To Lae'zel, he gave a goblet of wine and a plate of stew.

Shadowheart received a mug of wine and a mug of stew. Shadowheart looked between her portion and Lae'zel's. Her brow creased in annoyance.

Gale brought Wren a goblet of wine and a heavy bowl of stew. Wren looked at her portion and the others'. It was clear she had the most. Even Gale only had a mug of stew and the dregs of the wine bottle. She could feel a blush rising in her cheeks. Before she could refuse, Gale shushed her.

"You're injured. You need to build your strength." He sat next to Wren on the log. His robes brushed against her bare legs. He began eating his own measly portion. Wren looked at the others, expecting protest. Lae'zel couldn't care less, her spoon furiously scooping up carrots into her waiting maw. Shadowheart silently sipped her wine, clearly irritated but unable to argue against Gale's logic.

Warnings: slow burn, angst, AFAB main character, graphic violence, swearing, anxiety

Pairings: Gale x OC, Astarion x OC

Author Note: This fan fiction follows the exploits of my OC, Wren, a Drow barbarian raised by fey and caught up in a nautiloid invasion. This story takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3. This chapter is a reimagining of the group's first night on the beach and meeting Astarion.

________

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

The pressure behind Wren's eyes slowly ebbed with each breath. She sat at the edge of the river bank. Her worn, leather armor sat discarded next to her. She was simply clad in her linen tunic and underwear, letting her legs soak in the rushing waters of the Chionthar.

Finally feeling safe, she opened her eyes. She examined her body for injuries. Black bruises had started to bloom on her legs, arms, and ribs. A small cut on her knee stung as the cool, clear water splashed against it. Nothing serious, she thought. I was lucky. Hells, we were lucky.

Few could say they survived an interaction with a mind flayer, let alone a ship full and crashing it in the middle of the forest. But, she and her new companions had.

Lae'zel. Wren was probably the only one who felt at east with the blunt, brazen Githyanki. They both liked talking with their fists, so there were no misunderstandings between them.

The cleric was a different story. Ever since Wren ripped her from her pod, Shadowheart was a mystery wrapped in an enigma. She knew Drow who were more forthcoming than her. She never said she was a cleric, but Wren would catch the elegant half-elf whispering a prayer when she thought no one was looking. To which deity, Wren did not know. She could spot no sigils, markings, totems, or pendants. Wren felt uneasy around her. But, it was wise to bring her along. Shadowheart was a masterful healer. Yet, she couldn't help remove their tadpoles.

Then there was the wizard. Wren smiled at the thought of Gale. Tymora truly blessed her when she pulled the charming wizard from his magical prison. She didn't know the wizard any better than her other two companions, but he was a familiar face. Wren also noticed how his cheerful, gentle attitude made her feel at ease and balance Shadowheart and Lae'zel's clashing egos.

A sharp pain fired from the back of her head and made the tadpole wriggle frantically behind her eye. Wren reached up and gently searched her thick, black hair for the culprit. Her fingers brushed the rough scab stretching across her scalp. Gale had told her what happened after she was knocked out. She thanked him in her quiet way, but she knew it wasn't enough. She would be lying dead in Baldur's Gate right now if not for him. But he just brushed it off like it was nothing, explaining that pulling him from the stone was thanks enough.

"Wren! Supper is almost ready!" shouted Shadowheart.

Wren was shaken from her thoughts. She turned to see the cleric standing at the edge of camp in a tight leather top and leather pants. That's her idea of comfortable? Thought Wren. She slowly stood, water dripping down her merle-blue legs. Wren gathered up her armor and walked back to camp.

Lae'zel had chosen the spot next to the river, claiming it was defensible. Wren was no soldier, so she trusted her judgment. The camp was nestled against a small cliff face and overlooked soft, rolling hills. Wren saw Lae'zel had already erected her small tent and was now sharpening her greatsword. Shadowheart's tent was almost finished as well. Gale's was not even started as he had been hunched over the cookfire for the past hour.

"Smells good, where did you get meat?" asked Wren.

Gale turned from the bubbling cauldron and smiled. "Actually, those are brown cap mushrooms! I found some on the road."

"Yumm," hummed Wren as she leaned closer to the cauldron to inhale the rich aroma.

"Tsk. We won't keep up our strength only eating plants and fungi," huffed Lae'zel as she examined her blade.

"I hate to agree with her, but she's right," said Shadowheart as she tightened a support rope on her tent.

Wren set her armor on the ground and sat on a log they had rolled over for some seating. Wren noticed Gale's warm, brown eyes flick over her very exposed legs, then back to the cauldron. "Well, get me a bow and I can find us dinner next time," said Wren.

"Deal," said Lae'zel as she went back to sharpening her blade.

"Shadowheart," said Wren, "Could you take a look at my head?"

Gale whipped his gaze back on Wren, concern creasing his brow. "Are you unwell? Did I not--"

Wren interrupted him, "I'm ok. Just hurts a little."

Shadowheart finished tightening the support rope on her tent then walked towards Wren. The Drow silently leaned forward, exposing the back of her head. She felt Shadowheart's firm fingers exploring her black hair. Wren closed her eyes. The stroking was very soothing to her.

"I have to say, I've never met a Drow with hair such as yours," said Shadowheart. Wren opened her eyes and saw Gale across the camp fire, watching her. "It's a long story…OW!"

"There's the issue. Is this where she was injured, Gale?" asked Shadowheart.

"What? Ahem,--yes, yes. I tried my best healing her but murder and mayhem have a way of distracting you," said Gale. He kept watching Shadowheart intently, stirring the stew absentmindedly.

"Well, 'best' is exaggerating things. You stick to your magic, wizard, and I'll stick to mine," smirked Shadowheart.

Wren saw Gale's shoulders slump slightly as he turned his attention back to the cookpot, avoiding her red gaze. Wren spoke up. "I'm alive, aren't I? I'd say he succeeded."

"Hmm," hummed Shadowheart, "Vix medicantrix!"

Wren immediately felt the pain dissipate. She sat up straight and ran her fingers along her scalp. They brushed against a thin scar where the scab used to be. "Thank you," said Wren. Shadowheart nodded curtly.

"Dinner is served," announced Gale.

Gale passed out a menagerie of cups, bowls, plates--whatever they could find on the road. To Lae'zel, he gave a goblet of wine and a plate of stew.

Shadowheart received a mug of wine and a mug of stew. Shadowheart looked between her portion and Lae'zel's. Her brow creased in annoyance.

Gale brought Wren a goblet of wine and a heavy bowl of stew. Wren looked at her portion and the others'. It was clear she had the most. Even Gale only had a mug of stew and the dregs of the wine bottle. She could feel a blush rising to her cheeks. Before she could refuse, Gale shushed her.

Wren began to silently eat her portion. She placed the first spoonful into her mouth and had to stop herself from moaning in pleasure. It was delicious!

"Do you--like it?" asked Gale. Wren nodded vigorously. Gale's eyes lit up and he sat a little straighter. "I'm glad to hear it! It's an old family recipe. I was worried it wouldn't taste the same without rosemary, turnips and beef, but I dare say, I made a pretty good approximation!"

Wren kept eating. Across the camp fire, Lae'zel was licking her plate clean. Shadowheart even looked a little less perturbed as she sipped at the stew. The four ate in comfortable silence.

Once everyone had finished, they remained seated by the fire. They watched the sun slowly setting beyond the horizon.

"Tell me, wizard," said Lae'zel, "do all men in Waterdeep cook as you do?"

Gale chuckled, "Waterdeep has many accomplished chefs, of many genders, more skilled in their craft than I. You see, my mother taught me. It was one of our favorite past times."

"Where is your mother now?" asked Wren.

"Safe in Waterdeep. I hope," said Gale. A pensive look came over him.

"Well," sighed Shadowheart abruptly, "I think we should get some rest. The earlier we get up, the sooner we find a healer to get these little monsters out of our heads." She strolled off and disappeared into her tent. Lae'zel also stalked off to her tent. Soon, the sounds of her whetstone echoed off the rocky cliff face above them.

"She's right, we should rest." Gale gave Wren a small smile and set his dirtied dishes with the others and cast prestidigitation. The dishes were clean. Wren's eyes went wide in wonder. She looked over to the empty corner of camp where Gale's bags were sitting.

"I can help you raise your tent," said Wren, "unless you have a spell for that too." Oh, please have a spell for that too. That would be wondrous.

Gale looked at her with a warm smile. "I'm quite tired, so no more spells for me. I would very much welcome your help."

Wren gave a small smile back and set to work. She used the head of one of her war picks to hammer the stakes into the hard dirt. Gale untangled the rope. They both raised the poles and tied the ropes. Finally, the tent was finished. It was more spacious than the others and was a deep, ocean blue.

"Thank you," panted Gale. "I think it's sturdier than my spell could ever achieve."

"It's the least I can do," said Wren. She stepped a little closer to the wizard so he could hear her whisper, "Don't pay any mind to Shadowheart. You saved my life back in Baldur's Gate. That counts for something."

Gale's brown eyes locked onto Wren's ruby ones. She felt like time had slowed and all she could see was the gentle wizard before her. No word was spoken. Wren felt a shy smile stretch across her face. Gale's eyes flicked to her lips. He inhaled deeply. In this moment, there was no parasite wriggling through their brains. There were only two souls standing in the starlight, surrounded by the chirps of crickets.

A soft, lavender glow caught Wren's eye. She followed the light to its source: Gale's chest. The light was coming from under his robes and snaking its way up his neck to his left eye.

"What is that?" asked Wren, entranced by the colors.

Panic filled Gale's eyes as he quickly covered the light with his hands. "Um-uh, goodnight, Wren!" he shouted as he ran into his tent and closed the flap.

Wren remained standing outside Gale's tent. What just happened? She thought. She could hear Gale rustling around in his tent. The purple glow was still visible and barely outlined his profile. She approached the flap and whispered through the canvas, "Are you okay, Gale?"

"Y--yes! Just m-m-more tired than I thought. I'll see you in the morning."

Wren retreated. Was it something I did? She always struggled in making connections with others. She usually made them angry. Sometimes embarrassed. There was one time she made Oran, her father, cry. But she had never made someone glow before. Is that a good thing, or a bad thing? Thought Wren as she walked back to the dying fire and found her scavenged bedroll. She hadn't found a tent yet, but she wasn't complaining. She enjoyed sleeping under the stars. She laid her bedroll near Gale's tent, the embers of the campfire warming her back. She crawled into the musty furs. As her eyelids grew heavier, she saw the purple glow slowly fade. She kept fighting sleep. She wanted to make sure Gale was alright. Soon, Gale's tent was completely dark and silent. She let sleep overtake her as she dreamt of purple starlight.

_________

"Tskva!" cursed Lae'zel. She slapped her neck and smashed a mosquito against her yellow skin. "How do you live here?"

"Well, regardless of the bloodthirsty insects, it can be quite beautiful here," said Gale. It really was a beautiful afternoon. The sun shone off the rippling surface of the river. Trees swayed gently in the light breeze and the leaves shimmered like emeralds. Wren took a deep breath; after being locked in that pod and inhaling the fumes of a burning nautiloid wreck for the past few days, this fresh air was a balm to her soul.

The four companions were trudging through the wilds, searching for any sign of civilization so they could find a healer. Lae'zel took the lead, using her greatsword to hack through the overgrowth. Shadowheart was close behind. Wren knew that Shadowheart was uneasy around the Gith and preferred to keep her within sight at all times. That left Gale and Wren to bring up the rear.

Wren had asked if he was well as soon as he emerged from his tent that morning, but Gale simply brushed her off. It was like there was no magical glow erupting from his chest. There was no tender moment under the stars. Wren was actually kind of surprised that he wanted to walk alongside her on the road after his cold reception that morning. She felt a little awkward, wanting to ask him if she offended him in some way. But, she was too nervous and it strangled her into silence.

Gale, on the other hand, was still his talkative self. "I guess there's no insects in the Astral Sea."

Lae'zel sliced through a blackberry thicket. "It is a wonderful place. Timeless, ageless, and---ugh!" Lae'zel slapped at her neck again and left a smear of blood from a very juicy mosquito. "Insectless," she sneered.

"I would like to see the Astral Sea, someday. Gods, I would like to see many places. Waterdeep is a beautiful city with lots to enjoy, but it is such a small dot on an otherwise very large and unexplored tapestry," said Gale as they followed Lae'zel through the breach she made. "Greencliffs, would be one place I would greatly love to visit."

Wren looked at Gale, slightly surprised. Gale gave her a shy smile back. "Tell me, what is it like?"

Wren took a deep breath and pictured her village. How could she explain it? "Well, Greencliffs has been well hidden for thousands of years. Firbolgs founded it you see, as a safe haven for fey and a place for druids to study nature."

"Firbolgs? I thought they died out a long time ago after Duke Revan's War?" asked Shadowheart.

Wren grimaced. It was true--Duke Revan nearly decimated the firbolgs. A thousand years ago, Duke Revan ruled Neverwinter and wished to claim more of the wild forests surrounding the city to expand and fuel his mines and timber businesses. The druids and rangers tried their best to protect the forests and rivers from his armies, but it was the firbolgs--the giant-kin and sworn protectors of the forest who beat back Revan's armies and stopped the destruction of the wild places. After this, the firbolgs retreated into hidden villages to live peacefully and heal. Greencliffs was one of those places. "Firbolgs are alive and well in Greencliffs. My father is a firblog," said Wren.

"Your--father?" asked Shadowheart. She paused in her trek to look at Wren. She knew what Shadowheart was thinking--how could a small Drow have a firbolg father.

"I was adopted," said Wren. Next to her, she could feel Gale brush against her shoulder in support as they continued down the trail.

"Oh," said Shadowheart, suddenly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Wren. "Oran saved my life. No place I'd rather be than Greencliffs." Shadowheart stopped the questioning. Wren was grateful. She loved Oran and she loved Greencliffs, but explaining how she came to be there was a painful memory she didn't feel like sharing with these people she just met two days ago."Anyways, it's a city built into the side of a massive cliff," said Wren. She felt her mood lighten as she reminisced about it. "Ivy and creeping plants cover the entire face of it, hiding the many windows looking out. There's a secret entrance into the city and once inside, it's the coziest place you'll ever be."

"I would say my study in Waterdeep might give it a run for its money," joked Gale.

Wren chuckled. "Perhaps. You see, fireflies light the corridors and homes branch off in tunnels and coves. Every home has the softest furs and woven mats. In the heart of the cliffs, there's an open aired gully of sorts where if you looked up you could see every level of the city and each level has a terrace where we grow fresh fruit and vegetables. When it rains, the rain pours down the sides of the gully and fills a reservoir at the bottom so Greencliffs is never without water. No one is ever cold, or hungry."

"That sounds lovely," said Shadowheart.

"I would like to see this place. Perhaps it would make a good Creche," said Lae'zel.

"Ha! Try that, Lae'zel, and an army of firbolgs will rip through your scrawny kith'raks," laughed Wren.

Lae'zel chuckled, "Hmm, a challenge I would welcome, Drow."

Wren knew Lae'zel was no threat. No one but those who lived in Greencliffs can find it, so Lae'zel would have to torture her for the location if she was truly serious about conquering her village. At least, thought Wren, I hope she wouldn't do that."

"Yes, it sounds fascinating," said Gale. Wren glanced at him and saw he was giving her another warm, gentle smile. Her heart fluttered.

"You would be most welcome. After we get these wrigglers out of our heads, I would be happy to take you there," said Wren.

"Ugh, get a room you two," groaned Shadowheart. Wren felt a blush creep up her cheeks. She also spotted a rosy hue to Gale's face. Is he blushing too? Thought Wren.

"Silence! We are not alone…" said Lae'zel.

The party immediately stopped talking and quietly followed Lae'zel through the underbrush. Wren placed a hand on Lae'zel's shoulder and told her to wait behind while she went to investigate. Lae'zel was a skilled warrior, but being clad in silver plate-armor had its disadvantages in the wilderness. Wren stalked ahead. Compared to the githyanki, she was as silent as a whisper. Wren quietly pulled her war picks from their sheathes and moved towards the rustling ahead of her. With each step, the shrubs moved. She tightened her grip on her war picks, ready to strike. She took another step and SNAP! She had stepped on a twig.

SQUEEE! Out of the shrubs ran a boar. It bounded off into the woods. Wren breathed a sigh of relief. She looked back at her companions hiding in the bushes behind her. Just as she was about to say the coast was clear, something rammed into her chest and forced her onto her back. Wren gasped for the breath that was knocked out of her. She scrabbled for her war picks, but she had lost her grip and they had flown across the forest floor, out of reach.

"Wren!" Gale shouted off in the distance. She heard her companions running toward her but they were too slow. Pinning her to the ground was a dandy of an elf--delicately curled white hair framed his pointy ears, aquiline features sneered down at her and a slender yet well-muscled physique restrained her. Ruby-red eyes stared back into her own, full of fear and adrenaline. His pale, slender fingers of his left hand were wrapped around her right wrist while his right hand held a dagger to her blue throat.

"Unhand her, or I will incinerate you!" yelled Gale. He had made it out of the undergrowth and stood mere feet away, flame erupting from his fingertips.

"Tsk, and incinerate your friend along with me? I doubt it," sneered the pale elf. He pressed the blade tighter to Wren's throat and looked back at her. "I have questions, answer them and I may let you go," said the pale elf.

Wren strained against him, searching for weaknesses in his hold. But he held firm. "Ah-ah, little drowling. Don't try anything stupid," said the pale elf.

"Stow that blade, elf, I need her," said Shadowheart. She had also drawn her weapon.

"And I need answers! Now, you were on the ship weren't you?" asked the elf. There it was, thought Wren. He had eased the pressure on her throat so she could answer his question. Now is my chance.

With a guttural cry, Wren slammed her forehead into the pale elf's handsome face. Bone snapped. The elf screamed in pain and loosened his grip on her. She pushed him off of her and rolled towards her discarded war picks. She scooped them up and readied herself for a fight. The pale elf stumbled against a tree, holding his broken nose as blood flowed freely.

"You broke my fucking nose!" yelled the pale elf.

"And you held a knife to my throat, I'd say we're even," said Wren.

"I just wanted answers! Ugh--I saw you on the ship," said the pale elf. "You were running about like you owned the place. What did you do to me?"

Wren lowered her picks slightly. "You're confused," she said, "I am a victim, same as you. They put a parasite in my head. I'm guessing you have one too."

The pale elf's eyes lit up in understanding. He nodded slowly, still holding his bleeding nose. He looked to her other companions.

"Us as well," said Shadowheart. Gale still watched the pale elf, warily.

The pale elf gave a deep sigh and looked up to the forest canopy in relief. "Ah, and to think, I was going to spill your guts in this forest, apologies."

"Glad we're all caught up now," said Wren. She sheathed her picks, satisfied that the pale elf meant them no harm. She saw Lae'zel and Shadowheart do the same, but Gale still clenched his fist, ready to cast a fireball.

"So," said the pale elf. He straightened himself up and readjusted his rumpled finery. His clothing was definitely fancy--at one point. Now they looked restitched and slightly dirty. Blood still oozed from his nose. "What do you know about these ah-worms?"

"They'll turn us into mind flayers," said Gale. Wren felt the familiar pressure build behind her eyelids again. She took some steadying breaths. Gale and Lae'zel had explained their predicament their first night at camp. She had been able to hold it together so far, but every time she felt the tadpole slither or one of her companions mention their predicament, she felt the anxiety creep into her mind and begin to freeze her muscles again. She felt a gentle hand rest on her shoulder and her anxiety seemed to seep away. She turned to find Gale standing next to her, his warm hand gripping her shoulder.

"HA, HA, HA, HA, HA!" laughed the pale elf, "Of course it will turn me into a monster, what else did I expect?"

Wren and the companions stared at the pale elf. He quickly collected himself. "Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Astarion. I was in Baldur's Gate when those--beasts snatched me."

"I'm Wren, and this is Gale, Shadowheart and Lae'zel," said Wren, motioning to her companions.

"A pleasure," smirked Astarion. Even with his broken and bleeding nose, he was still quite attractive. Wren felt herself blush as his red eyes raked up and down her form.

"Well, I'm glad we got that all sorted! Travel safe," said Gale and started to guide Wren away from Astarion and back towards the forest path they were traveling.

"Wait, ugh!" said Astarion, grasping his nose in pain again. "We should stick together, figure out where these worms came from, perhaps control them."

"Control them?" said Wren. "We need to remove them."

"Yes, yes. But first things first," said Astarion.

Wren looked to her companions. Shadowheart whispered, "I don't trust him."

"As do I," said Gale, his hand still gently rubbing circles on Wren's shoulder. Does he know he's doing that, thought Wren. Her heart fluttered.

"But he seems to be a fierce warrior, we could use him," said Lae'zel. Wren looked back at Astarion. He could hear every word they were saying. He smiled through the blood sliding down his face.

"I agree, he's coming with us," said Wren.

"Wha-what?! He just held a knife to your throat and you want him to share our rations and sleep with us?" asked Gale.

"Well, darling, let's save the sleeping together until we get to know one another better," Astarion drawled. It was now Gale's turn to blush.

"You can join us, but you do anything shifty and I will put my pick into that pretty skull of yours," growled Wren. Astarion's debonaire façade faltered a bit at her words.

"Ah, yes I will not harm any of you. You have my word," said Astarion.

"Let's get going then," said Wren. She pulled from Gale's gentle grasp and marched back down the deer trail they had been following. Behind her, Wren could hear Astarion complain, "Uh, you, you're a cleric aren't you? Could you perhaps do something about my blasted nose?"

"I could…but I won't," said Shadowheart. "Maybe you shouldn't pounce on unsuspecting travelers in the woods."

"Yes, that head butt was glorious. Perfect form," marveled Lae'zel behind her.

"Yes," muttered Gale. "Perfect."

#bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x oc #astarion #drow oc #astarion x oc #baldur's gate 3

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cyrereads · 1 year ago

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October Releases (2023) - Indie Authors Edition

Here is a list of a few indie authors who have releases this Oct! Please check them out and support our small authors <3

The Erstwhile Tyler Kyle - Steve Hugh Westenra (Oct. 13th) A washed-up thirty-year-old actor and reluctant cryptid investigator, Tyler is used to playing the Scully to his best friend Josh’s Mulder on their stupidly popular YouTube channel. But when Tyler receives previously unseen footage of the B movie bombshell mother who abandoned him eighteen years ago— genre(s): horror

Posthaste Manor - Carson Winter, Jolie Toomajan (Oct. 18th) Everyone has a story about Posthaste Manor. None of the stories end well, but that doesn’t stop the hopeful from hoping and the desperate from trying. This composite novel stands as both history and eulogy of one very haunted house, as recounted by artists, real estate agents, and beloved family pets; by the debauched, the dead and the dying, and anyone looking for one last chance. genre(s): horror

Blood & Flowers - mars adler (Oct. 31 🎃) No one has been able to set foot in the D’Arcy family’s ancestral home for the last twenty years. The family was forced to relocate, and the only place they could find was close to their rival family, the Kanes. Proximity and years of anger have brought the situation to a boiling point, and it’s only so long before all-out war ensues. As a last attempt at peace, the Kane patriarch sends his half-witch, half-vampire advisor, Elio, to help one of the D’Arcy sons try to unravel the house’s mysteries. The only problem? Elio and Valerian D’Arcy hate each other. Years of mediating for their families have left them embroiled in a bitter rivalry, and unable to trust each other. genre(s): vampire, queer, novelette

Δάιος: A Call Me Icarus Novel - Andromeda Ruins (OUT NOW!) The Elysians are here to protect us. They uphold order, they keep citizens safe… unless you are their kid. When you are the child of an Elysian you get to see what they are truly like. You get to see their fears, their anger, their hatred. You get to be subjected to their wants and whims. Most importantly, you get to be trained by the ‘best of the best’ to become an Elysian yourself. At least that’s what we were told. We weren’t told what that training would cost us. What it would do to our bodies and our minds. How it would make us into what the Elysians really are, mindless abominations. genre(s): retelling

Herald of the Witch's Mark - Kellen Graves (Oct. 20) Saffron finally has the one thing he's always a chance to attend school. To be able to do so alongside Prince Cylvan, even while glamoured as a high fey and pretending not to know one another, Saffron is eager to finally experience the education he's always dreamed of. But the expectations of being a perfect fey lord are suffocating enough, and are only made more difficult as the unfettered rowan magic in his body runs wild. genre(s): fantasy, queer, romance, m/m

The Witch of Borygen Marsh - Lysander Arden (Oct. 31 🎃) Corliss is a witch, but their specialty is black magic and necromancy. And there's nothing sexy about that-or is there? Atticus makes a deal with them, but can he survive three nights in that dark cabin in the marshes? The appearance of an undead ex-boyfriend, nightmares that plague the two of them, and the promise of ultimate pleasure may be more than Atticus can handle.

In The Garden Of Echo - H.S. Wolfe (Oct. 31 🎃) Echo and Ender have existed nearly as long as the earth itself. They’re hungry, in love, and indestructible. For centuries they’ve wandered across continents feeding from their favorite food source - humans. But the mess they’ve left in their wake starts their prey on the path of discovering that they are not what they seem. After being forced to curb their feeding and go into hiding, a tragic incident leads Echo and Ender to learn about what they are, and the power they are truly capable of. genre(s): horror, queer

Rosemary & Iron - Dorian Valentine (Oct. 22) When a ritual to restore Mana goes wrong and sends him into the distant past, Célestin Edevane seeks the help of a strange man inhabiting an even stranger estate in order to prevent the calamity that destroyed Mana. Faced with a fascinating world unlike his own, filled with vampires, fae, witches and old gods and an unexpected love affair...will he even want to return to his time? genre(s): fantasy, queer, vampires, romance

The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil - M.N. Bennet (OUT NOW!) Apprentice mage Wally spends his days cataloging rare artifacts and dreaming about finally mastering his magics and living the adventures he’s always desired. Bez, a once mighty devil who craves the freedom of the outside world again, despises his confinement inside a powerful object. His only company now comes from the mages working within the archives he’s stored. Among them, the most annoying of them all, an anxious and considerate Walter. genre(s): fantasy, queer, paranormal, m/m, romance

As The Light Goes Out - Olive J Kelley (Oct. 31 🎃) When Boston born and bred Simon Abbott buys an obsolete lighthouse on the coast of Maine, he envisions turning it into a short-term rental with nothing but a HGTV understanding of renovation and heaps of gay audacity. The current caretaker of the lighthouse, Bruce Cadogan, sees right through Simon’s confidence and, in a last ditch attempt to save his quaint New England hometown’s charm, asks for three days to convince Simon not to go through with his plan, or he’ll help him with the renovations himself. genre(s): contemporary, mental health, queer, novella

Knight - Elle Samhain (Oct. 31 🎃) Avery isn’t sure she should even still be alive after Morgana’s Legion left two Reapers dead… and one Saved. She and her friends have located the fifth and final Knight of Od placed in the realm of the living by the Beldam - the Knight of Spirit. The oddball Princess Yumi has waited with bated breath and uncertain heart for the Berserker Witch. Can she be trusted to resist the demon she harbors? The ragtag band of Reapers must confront the monsters of their own pasts before they can ever hope to save the future.

Reborn - Seth Haddon (Oct. 24) When the Rezwyn Empire mysteriously cuts diplomatic ties with the Kingdom of Usleth, merchant lord Oren Radek is sent to investigate. But when he discovers a coup brewing against the emperor, Radek's life and his country's safety is suddenly under threat. Izra Dziove, visionary advisor to the Rezwyn Emperor, is trying to hold the turbulent Rezwyn court together while being plagued by dreams of his fated man. But when Izra’s adversaries launch an attack on the diplomatic party from Usleth, he is forced to take action to protect them and prevent a war. genre(s): fantasy, queer, m/m, romance

King of Hell - Morgan Dante (Oct. 17) Still need to scratch that Good Omens or Supernatural itch? Laurențiu, a vampire staked by his ex-lover's husband, only craves one thing: revenge. In Hell, as a courtier for one of the kings of Hell, he's consumed by it and willing to make a deal to kill the man, Anthony, who turned him into a vampire and abandoned him. genre(s): queer, romance, fantasy, vampires

Devour - Dae Storm (Oct. 17) When Renee Reynolds finds herself dumped by her long-term boyfriend in the middle of the pouring rain on her birthday, she wishes she could escape from her life. Standing furious in the middle of the street, Renee sees something she was never meant to, bringing herself to the attention of a very hungry... feline monster. Unable to outrun the creature from beyond the realm of her beliefs, Renee is left in the claws of her captor: Hale. Hale cannot let a human go knowing what she is; but there's something different about this one.

Outfield Assist - Cat Giraldo (Oct. 17) Outfield Assist is an MMF polyamorous romance with a guaranteed HEA. It's book 2 in the Dominating the Diamond series and can be read out of order or as a standalone.

The Ghosts of Reeser Morrigan - Amara Lynn (Oct. 13) Robert Wutherford is a warlock who runs a shop in the town of Yverwood, though his services as a warlock mostly go unneeded in a town filled to the brim with magically gifted. He spends most of his days with his nose stuck in romance novels, wishing he were in one. When a mysterious client shows up at his door claiming to be in need of his services, Wutherford doesn't believe him. Reeser Morrigan has a ghost problem, so he claims. A warlock couldn't be what he needs… Wutherford agrees to observe Reeser for one night to assess the situation. Once Wutherford witnesses what the true problem is—that Reeser is visited by a new spirit out to devour his soul each night—he realizes he might be the only one who can help, as he possesses the rare wender affinity with souls.

a special thank you to Monster Manor on twt for providing some of the titles on this.

please SHARE and spread the word so we can show our indie authors some much deserved love <3

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azuramarigold · 1 year ago

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Poisoned Heart

Summary: The trial of State vs. Phoenix Wright on April 11, 2014 - he can't ever forget it, it was one of the worst says of his life.

“Mr. Wright!” Ms. Fey shouted in panic, her hazel eyes wide in horror. “Are you okay!?” “Huh…?” “I need to call you an ambulance!” “…why…?” Phoenix felt his legs wobble, the corners of his vision going dark. He coughed again, gasping for air. He had to rip off his mask as it felt suffocating… but it wasn’t the mask that was suffocating. It was the blood that was splattering into his hand. “Uh… M-M-Mia…?” Phoenix softly called out, his legs buckling. “I-I’m s-s-sor…rry…” “PHOENIX!”

AO3

“MIA FEY! MIA FEEEEY!”

The young, angelic-face of a woman with blood-red hair stood on the witness stand – her hands gripped on the handle of her parasol so tight that she could snap it in half. Her eyes seemed to be almost a spiritual white – full of anger and spite, almost a demonic presence.

“You. Think. You. Have. Won?” the woman practically growled. “WELL!? Do you, Mia Fey!?”

Standing on the Defense side of the courtroom was a young woman with chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes, a beauty mark on her chin, and wearing a skirt-suit with a tan scarf wrapped around her neck. Her purple magatama was sitting proudly in the middle of her chest above her breasts. She was considered a very beautiful young woman – but at that moment she looked terrified.

Literally minutes ago, Mia Fey was fighting for her client’s – Phoenix Wright – life as he was accused of murder of a young college student. The woman on the witness stand cursing Ms. Fey’s name was non-other than Phoenix’s girlfriend, Dahlia Hawthorne.

Who was planning on murdering him.

This… this isn’t really happening… is it?

Phoenix thought the worse of it was when he was accused of murdering Doug Swallow. He thought hiring a decent attorney from Grossberg’s Law Offices through the Law Program at Ivy University on a student discount would be fine. He thought everything would be an open and shut case.

That’s what Dollie told me anyway… she used to read some of my law texts…

Dahlia then laughed, a dark, and almost sinister laugh that Phoenix never heard before. “Heh... Heh... Heh... Heheh... That's. Just. Fine! For the time being...” Her voice just sounded so… cold. She then put on her “sweet” façade. “For the time being, victory is yours.” A lovely smile plastered on her face, a smile that Phoenix once would have said he really loved and enjoyed – but this smile… was different.

Stoney. Plastered. Almost… practiced.

It looks the same… but it’s not. I can’t really explain it…

“‘For the time being’”? Ms. Fey repeated, her hands on the desk, her giving Dahlia a hard glare.

Dahlia tilted her head to the side, her red hair gently falling on her shoulder. “Well... I have a very long memory, you know. You and I will meet again... I'm certain of it,” the woman stated.

Ms. Fey gave a perplexed look.

Soon Dahlia Hawthorne was escorted out of the courtroom by officers. She did not give Phoenix Wright another look. She did not say another word to him.

It was like he didn’t exist.

15 minutes earlier…

“OBJECTION!”

Phoenix had jumped from his Defendants chair and marched up towards the witnesses stand, ignoring the glares from his attorney, Mia Fey, and the Judge.

“On behalf of Dollie, I OBJECT!”

The prosecutor of the case, Mr. Winston Payne, began stuttering, “M-M-Mr. Wright! Control yourself!”

Anger had boiled in Phoenix. How could he sit there and watch his own attorney bully Dollie like this? Dollie was a petite woman with such delicate skin that she always carries a parasol, so she doesn’t get a sunburn. The girl studies literature so she can choose words over violence as “The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword”.

“I-I won’t let you bully her like this…!” Phoenix continued, tears threating to spill.

The Judge slammed is gavel. “MR. WRIGHT!” he shouted with authority. “I thought I had told you to stay in your seat!”

Ms. Fey slammed her hands on the desk. “Mr. Wright! W-why are you going through such lengths to protect her!?” the woman cried out.

“B-Because I’m madly in l-love with her!” the young man shouted, his face flushing in a combination of embarrassment and his low-grade fever.

He’s never said those words out in public. Both he and Dollie had always said and expressed their love for each other in private – either in his college dorm room or in her private apartment she had off campus. Saying it out loud, in front of everyone, made him want to crawl under the desk and cry.

You’ve always been so sensitive, Ryu. His mother had always told him, always calling him the nickname of his middle name.

Ms. Fey sighed in exasperation, “Mr. Wright…” she tapped her forehead in almost annoyance. “Have you ever thought about this? Why would a woman like Ms. Hawthorne want to date you anyway?”

I mean… ouch.

Phoenix would consider himself… average looking at best. He didn’t really date in high school – it didn’t help that he hung out with Larry Butz a lot and of course “When something Smells, it’s usually the Butz!” Once he started college there were a couple of dates, meeting a couple of guys at a local bar and grill, a girl or two at a movie, and going to a few parties at a frat house and chatting.

But Dahlia was the first one to willing… throw herself at him? He was the one who would approach others and it was usually the most awkward thing in the world until he had a drink or two in. The young woman literally gave him the heart-shaped necklace, made of glass, and gave him such a smile that he couldn’t refuse.

Then Ms. Fey mentioned the necklace… it was coming back to the necklace again…

That damned necklace.

“Y-you’re l-lying…” Phoenix kept mumbling to himself as Ms. Fey kept pushing about the necklace and how Dollie just wanted it back.

“You never gave it back to her,” Ms. Fey continued. “And you kept refusing. On top of it all, you kept showing it to everyone you met. That’s why she-”

“… I don’t… I don’t believe you!” Phoenix finally cried out, tears spilling over his eyes. “NOO! That’s a l…l-lie!” He rushed over by Ms. Fey and nearly tackling her, tears nearly blinding him as he wailed.

“EEK!” his attorney shouted in panic.

What she didn’t realize was that Phoenix slipped his hand into her pocket and grabbed the necklace back.

“The Defendant!” a bailiff shouted. “He’s getting away!”

Phoenix ignored the shouts as he ran out of the courtroom. As he had ran by Dollie, there was almost a… sinister smile on her face. Was he imagining it?

He ran down the hall and turned a corner, managing to slip into the restroom quickly before the bailiff could see. Quickly, he locked the door behind him and entered a stall. He opened his hand to see blue and gold pendant, heart-shaped, a glass crystal in its center.

Eight months… he thought bitterly to himself. I’ve had this for eight months. Ms. Fey says there is poison in this? Did Dollie really… poison that other attorney…?

Looking in the glass bottle, there was a quarter of fluid in there. Without thinking, Phoenix pulled down his mask, ignoring the cough building up in his throat, and began crushing the glass in his mouth.

He felt the iron tang along with something else tinging his tongue. But he ignored it. All that mattered was that he was going to prove that Dollie was not hiding poison or had been trying to kill him. Every swallow of the broken glass was tearing his already scratchy, sore throat.

He felt blood trickle down the corners of his mouth, and with a quick motion of a ripping a piece of toilet paper he promptly wiped it away. He ignored the bright scarlet. He ignored the iron taste. He ignored what almost smelled like flowers wafting into his nose mixed with iron – an almost bitter smell.

After a few minutes of breaking apart the rest of the necklace and disposing it (him eating it), he gave a few sneezes and coughs, ignoring the splatter of blood that he sprayed on the wall of the small cubicle he was in, and exited the stall. He made his way to the mirror and saw his reflection.

It was like seeing a hollow version of himself. He still had his usual spikiness of his hair, but his normally dark blue eyes were almost tinged gray – lifeless. Dark circles were under his eyes, his skin pale and clammy.

What does a poisoned person look like? He had been fighting a cold for the past three days – of course he looked sick. Is he going to look worse? Is he going to drop dead?

After a solid five minutes of nothing – Phoenix gave a smirk.

He finally left the bathroom with his hands up and let the bailiffs take him back to the courtroom.

Phoenix Wright was given a “Not Guilty” verdict for the murder of Doug Swallow.

He should be happy. He was not going to prison. He could still become a lawyer and help his oldest friend…

But… he wasn’t… Phoenix couldn’t.

So… it was all a lie…?

“Oh! Mr. Wright!” a familiar voice called out to him, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Congratulations!” Ms. Fey held out her hand for a handshake.

For a moment, Phoenix stared blankly at it, but he then grasped it and shook it gratefully. “Th-thank you, Ms. Fey…” he said tearfully. “I-I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused…”

Ms. Fey blinked at him in surprise. “Mr. Wright… I know you must still be in shock from everything…” she began to say.

“Dollie…” he barely whispered. “I don’t think that was actually her on the stand…”

“I…I’m not sure what you mean by that, Mr. Wright…” she replied in confusion.

Phoenix shook his head softly. Why did his head hurt suddenly? Maybe he was getting a headache from all this excitement…

“The Dollie I knew… would never say those kinds of things…” Phoenix explained, him still feeling bewildered. “She was always so sweet… and… and ca-car-” He gave a rough cough. His throat felt like knives were tearing at it. His stomach was burning. He needed to pick up a not poisoned cold-killing medicine on his way back to the dorm.

“Mr. Wright!” Ms. Fey shouted in panic, her hazel eyes wide in horror. “Are you okay!?”

“Huh…?”

“I need to call you an ambulance!”

“…why…?”

Phoenix felt his legs wobble, the corners of his vision going dark. He coughed again, gasping for air. He had to rip off his mask as it felt suffocating… but it wasn’t the mask that was suffocating.

It was the blood that was splattering into his hand.

“Uh… M-M-Mia…?” Phoenix softly called out, his legs buckling. “I-I’m s-s-sor…rry…”

“PHOENIX!”

The wailing of sirens was the last thing he heard as he crashed into Mia Fey’s arms, coughing more blood onto the white of her jacket, staining it scarlet.

He opened his eyes with a loud gasp, the sounds of beeping around him.

An oxygen mask covered his face, feeling a bunch of wires and tubing covering exposed skin, and something was uncomfortably shoved up his nose. A scratchy blanket covered him, thin and cold, it does nothing for him to contain body heat.

Phoenix darted his eyes around him, noting that the room was a stark white. Sterile. Unwelcoming.

It wasn’t his first time in a hospital bed for something dumb.

It was his first time however in a hospital bed for something idiotic.

“So, you’re awake now, Mr. Wright?” a soft voice asked.

Phoenix managed to crane his neck to his left to see his attorney in a chair, wearing casual clothing with a dark purple knitted sweater and a pair of black slacks, and her purple magatama that was almost glowing front and center on her chest. In her hands was a cup of coffee, most likely from a vending machine and from questionable origin.

“Ms.… Fey…?” Phoenix choked out, his voice dry and hoarse. He reached up to his face and pulled off his oxygen mask. He gave a cough to try to clear it, but when he did, he felt as though his chest was on fire.

“You were in surgery for about thirteen hours, Phoenix…” she worriedly said. “They actually said that was short.”

“… I was…?”

“You are lucky son of a bitch, you know that!?” Ms. Fey then screamed, her standing up from her chair. “You ate a knowingly poisoned necklace!”

“… I thought… it wasn’t…” Phoenix choked, him feeling tears sting his eyes.

“You were willing to bet your life on that!?” she furiously screamed, tears in her eyes. “My first trial ended because the defendant committed suicide from doing what your DUMB ASS DID!” She threw her coffee to the ground, it splattering to the floor. “Well… not exactly what you did… he just drank the full dose of poison…” Her hands were balled up into fists at her sides. “Someone… someone I care about is in a room a few doors down was unknowingly poisoned by that bitch! He’s been in a coma for the past eight months! And yet… you were willing to bet your life that she wouldn’t kill you…!”

Phoenix darted his eyes away from hers. He didn’t realize that’s what happened. “I…” was all he could manage.

Ms. Fey sighed, her voice shaking. “They said you were lucky… the poison wasn’t as potent due to half-life…” she explained, her voice softer, seemingly realizing she let out too much of her emotions. “The glass… luckily didn’t cut your esophagus… it did cut your stomach lining though and got into your small intestine.”

“…”

“They managed to get all the glass out and stitch you up on the inside to make sure there is no internal bleeding,” she continued. She glanced at the I.V. bag and the feeding tube that was going up Phoenix’s nose. “The poison may affect your absorption of nutrients as well…” she added. “It sounds like you may not like eating much anymore…” She gave a morbid chuckle dripping with sarcasm, “Every girl’s diet wish.”

“Can… I…” Phoenix tried to speak, but his throat was so dry.

“Do you want water…?”

He nodded.

Ms. Fey handed him a cup of ice water that was on a tray next to her.

Phoenix managed to prop himself up in the bed and gulp the water down in one swig. He cleared his throat.

“Much better…” he softly spoke. His voice was still hoarse, but at least it wasn’t drier than the Sahara Desert. He then took a deep breath. “I’m… I’m sorry I was an idiot,” he expressed full heartedly. “I… I should have listened to you… Dahlia was right… what use am I to anyone…? Maybe I should’ve just-”

Phoenix then felt a warm hand on his. “Don’t!” Ms. Fey’s stern voice interrupted. “Don’t you dare say you rather be dead!” Her hard glare was full of determination, confidence, and what Phoenix could describe as… hope. “You are worth it to someone! I wouldn’t have fought so hard for you in court if I didn’t think you were worth it, Phoenix!”

The young man blinked in confusion. Then he gave a bitter chuckle, “I thought you insisted on being my attorney because she was involved…?”

Ms. Fey looked startled. “I mean…” she choked out. “It… did start out like that…” she admitted. “But as the trial went on… I realized that you reminded me a lot… of myself. Scared and unsure of yourself. Dahlia mentioned in a testimony that you are also studying law…? Why as an art student are you studying law?”

Phoenix darted his eyes away. “I minor in law…” he lowly said. “I wanted to be a Defense Attorney when I was kid… I put it on the back burner for a bit and focused on art instead…” He then noticed a newspaper on the table next to where Ms. Fey was sitting, it showing someone very familiar on the front page… “Hey… can I see that paper for a second…?”

Ms. Fey looked confused as she grabbed it. “Um… sure?” she muttered as she handed it to the young college student.

Phoenix read the front page, the title reading: “DEMON PROSECUTOR WINS AGAIN”.

“What… have you become, Miles…?” Phoenix barely whispered.

“I beg your pardon, Phoenix?” Ms. Fey asked.

“Ms. Fey…” Phoenix began, him folding the newspaper up, the picture showing clear as day his old childhood friend: Miles Edgeworth. “A lawyer is someone who can help people when they’re in trouble… right?”

She gave a soft look, almost like an older sister. “I’m… still new to this lawyering thing myself, but I think that’s what a lawyer does,” she told him.

Phoenix gave her a large smile. “Then that’s what I’ll do!” he said confidently. “I’ll study my ass off! No more half-assing my lawyer classes! I’m going to become a Defense Attorney! Maybe we can meet each other again!”

“I’ll do you one better…” she said as she extended her hand to him. “I’ll help you get there… you can call me ‘Mia’ for now on.” She then gave him a wink. “Or ‘Chief’. I like the sound of that.”

“‘Chief’?” he echoed.

“Yeah… I’m probably going to be opening my own firm… ‘Fey & Co.’,” she admitted slyly as she tapped her chin. “How about I take you under my wing? You can be the ‘Co’ of ‘Fey & Co’.” She was beaming with every word.

Phoenix felt his face go red. “Wait… what…!?” he stammered. “Even though… even though…!?”

“You may be a dumbass in social situations,” Mia told him with a smirk. She then pulled out his transcripts from his college courses. “But… you’re actually good with your testing scores – you just don’t like doing your actual work.”

Phoenix crossed his arms stubbornly. “Well… the tests should be what counts…” he muttered.

“You’re a straight A student in every test you take – even going past the grading scale with extra credit questions because you think outside the box.”

“…”

“So, let’s get your grades up and get you to pass your Bar Exam.”

“Are… you sure you want to put all your faith in me, Ms. – I mean, Chief?”

Mia then gave him a large smile. “Phoenix Wright – you may have gotten a poisoned heart from love, but you’re an amazing person, this one incident isn’t going to break you. We Fey’s have this uncanny feeling about this sort of thing. I’m going to make sure you become a damn good attorney – an Ace Attorney if you will.” She winked at him again.

A smile crossed his face again. “Th-thank you, Mia…” he whispered, his voice wavering.

September 10, 2016 - 9:00am

Los Angeles Hospital Cremation Services

It was a little more than two years since that day… since that trial…

Phoenix Wright stood in the hallway in the basement of the hospital with Maya Fey, the younger sister of his mentor - his old attorney, his friend – waiting for hospital staff to seal the doors of the cremation room.

She’s right there… on the other side… her body…

But it was just the night before he heard her voice in the office. She told him that he was finally leaving the nest… that she would always watch over him. Mia had saved him again at the trial at the last moment – Maya being a Spirit Medium-in-training was able to channel the deceased Mia finally gave Phoenix the last piece of the puzzle he needed for Maya – and his – acquittal.

Miles Edgeworth – the man that was the reason why he even became an attorney in the first place – was the prosecutor in the case. He was even shocked at the turn in of events, and for the first time since 2013, he had lost a trail. The Demon Prosecutor had lost his perfect trial record to a rookie first year Defense Attorney who was only defending his second trial.

Lost in thought, Phoenix didn’t hear the operator as a switch was pulled. Orange engulfed his view through the window. A small gasp escaped Maya as she then began to mumble prayers to herself.

Phoenix was not a religious man – he never was. He remembered a few phrases from his Soba Naruhodo that were prayers for the deceased, something they did for their ancestors from time to time, so that was what he prayed to Mia.

“Don’t worry, Phoenix – we’re not done with each other yet!”

M-Mia?!

“Don’t let my death poison your heart, Phoenix – remember, you’re an amazing person! Please take care of each other, okay…?”

I… we will, Chief…

Thank you… Mia.

Phoenix and Maya had split Mia’s ashes in half.

Maya had kept her half of the ashes in a purple urn that was the same color as the late Fey’s magatama, her name engraved in the stone. The young Spirit Medium also kept a special hollow magatama and kept a bit of ash in there to carry on her person – she stated it was easier to channel Mia’s spirit and she liked the fact that her sister was always with her.

Phoenix had a purple urn as well, but it was more subtle looking. In a way it resembled a house plant pot… He had looked into it, a “Living Urn” it was called. At that moment, Phoenix had Mia’s ashes mixed in soil in a biodegradable urn to help lower pH levels and for the soil and ashes to become acclimated with one another. Once all that was said in done – he was going to transfer Charlie the plant into the large purple “Urn” pot so that Mia would help Charlie continue to grow and live in the office.

Mia was the life of the office. She was the life of Maya. She was the life of Charlie.

And she was the life of Phoenix - the one who helped heal his poisoned heart.

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #phoenix wright ace attorney #ace attorney fandom #ace attorney fanfiction #naruhodō ryūichi #a03 fanfic #fanfiction #phoenix wright ace attorney trilogy #mia fey #dahlia hawthorne #a03 link #a03 #a03 writer #a03 fic #chihiro ayasato #ayasato chihiro #miyanagi chinami

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slusheeduck · 1 year ago

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Fictober 2023 Day 6 - Prompt: "Are you with me?" Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

“I say it’s time for a celebration. Are you with me?”

Falerin’s attention, drifting aimlessly as he sat on the rocks by the water, was abruptly caught by a bottle, shoved right in front of his face.

“Arkhen’s Hoard. Well, I think it is. The thing about found liquor is that the labels always seem to go missing.” The bottle gets pushed into Falerin’s hands, and Gale settled down on the rock beside him with a long sigh. “Tell you what: you get the honor of the first drink.”

“So you can be sure it’s good?” Falerin asked with a wry smile. He pops open the cork—seems like it’s already been opened and examined—and takes a drink. He pulls it away, squinting as he looked over it.

“Well?”

“…I have no idea what Arkhen’s Hoard tastes like.” Falerin passed it back, a little smile on his face. “But it’s good.”

“Then that’s good enough for me. In these circumstances, anyway.” Gale took a long drink, then passed the bottle back as he looked up overhead.

“So…what are we celebrating, exactly?” Falerin asked, tapping a nail against the bottle.

“Well, it’s another day past without sprouting tentacles! That’s good enough cause for celebration for me. Especially because we should have long since been reduced to a life of cephalopodic horrors.” He wiggled his fingers in front of his mouth for emphasis, making the half-drow laugh.

“All right, all right. I’ll drink to that,” Falerin said, and so he did. He grew thoughtful, though, as he passed the bottle back. He often did, really; seemed his head was in the clouds more often than not. Not a bad trait, as far as companions went. If anything, it made Gale’s conversations with him all the more valuable.

“Copper for your thoughts?” he chanced.

Falerin’s eyes fixed on him: one dark, and one a bright, nearly luminescent purple. The latter wasn’t an unusual color for drow, but there was something…strange in it. Otherworldly. Like someone else—well, a non-tadpole someone—was looking at him through it. Warlocks often bore marks from their patrons, but that didn’t make them any less unsettling…or fascinating, depending on who you asked.

“You were really upset when Nettie poisoned me,” he said after a moment. “I’ve been meaning to ask why.”

“Is that…not what friends do?” Gale asked, brows furrowing as he held the bottle to his lips. “Do let me know. It may be hard to believe with my charm and wit, but I’m a bit out of practice.”

“So am I,” Falerin said with a laugh.

“Ah, see, I knew you were a kindred spirit.” The wizard let out a sigh, looking up. “Do you ever just…click with someone? Where you meet, and chat, and it’s like you’ve known each other all your life? Granted, maybe it’s some form of…trauma bonding, but…” He held the bottle out to Falerin, who took a quick drink before passing it back. “In that moment, when that druid poisoned you, I realized just how devastating it’d be to lose a friend like you so soon after meeting.” He shook his head. “But that’s likely just the ramblings of a very lonely, very stressed man. Change the subject, would you?”

Falerin gave a little smile, warm and understanding, then rubbed his knee. “Guess how old I am.”

“If you’re having me guess, my answer’s not going to be right,” Gale shot back, passing the bottle.

Falerin smiled, swirling the wine. “I’m sick, too,” he said quietly. “My heart doesn’t work properly; I wasn’t supposed to make it to twenty-five. I did, I think through sheer spite, and I wanted to keep living. Initially, I turned to magic, but ultimately, I went to the fey.” He shrugged. “My patron…liked me, for whatever reason. Took me to her court and kept me there. I don’t know if she thought of me as a…a pet or a plaything or what, but I was comfortable, and my illness was halted.”

Gale regarded him for a moment. “So why leave?”

Falerin chewed his lip. “My illness was halted. I wasn’t cured.” He looked up at Gale. “I don’t expect you to know what it’s like, but…being in a place of such beauty, full of immortals who don’t know what it’s like to be sick, and feeling the…rot, the poison of your own mortality in your veins—it’s maddening.”

Gale’s eyes darted away. “I might know that better than you think,” he said quietly.

Falerin took a long drink, then passed it back. “So I asked to leave. My patron agreed—a lot more easily than I thought she would. She offered to give me power, to give me enough fey magic to not only survive, but thrive—for a time, anyway—in exchange for my right eye.” He tapped just below it, purple blazing in the dying light. “She wanted to see my adventures, because she knew I’d have them.” He shook his head, puffing out a laugh. “Obviously, she was right.” He dragged his heel through the dirt. “I thought I’d just been away for ten years. Turns out it was a hundred. My mother, my friends, my mentor…all gone. I was just trying to get my bearings when the nautiloid picked me up.”

Gale was quiet, looking off somewhere very distant. “For a time, you said. Do you know how long?”

Falerin shrugged. “With the fey magic in me? I’d guess about a decade.” His brow furrowed. “I feel…stronger, with the tadpole. Even more than I did in the Feywild. But it seems a shitty deal to keep living just to end up a Mind Flayer.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Gale said, tipping the bottle in a one-sided toast. “Tell you what. You’re already helping me with my condition. I’ll do whatever I can to help with yours.” He gave a grim smile. “If we both survive, obviously. But…I hope we do.”

Falerin gave him a wide smile, taking the bottle from him. “I’ll drink to that.”

Fictober 2023 Drabble Master Post

#fictober23 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale of waterdeep #you get my tav's 19 page backstory here #This was supposed to be the opening drabble of another fic but like it's literally what I'm already doing #LET TAV AND GALE BE BEST FRIENDS #He has 100 approval of me (well 99 because I licked the spider too many times) and I'm so sad that I can't have best friend interactions

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llostwriter · 5 months ago

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The Misery of the Songstress’ Child

Chapter 4

-nonbinary

This year was the second year of Chu Fei’s departure, the servants moving back and forth as they got places to be. All rooms were cleaned daily, but one room that was forbidden for anyone to enter was Chu Fei’s room. Before Chu Fei’s departure, his room was only cleaned once a month; the main reason was because the two tyrants were getting extra busy with Chu Fei. It doesn’t matter what time it was; the two tyrants would take turns going to the room; there were times they would go at the same time. Whenever either of the tyrants visited that room, the hall would remain empty. Two reasons. One reason was because nobody wanted to interrupt the tyrants’ activities, fearing that they would be missing a limb or two by the next day. The second reason was for privacy, which was suggested by the second ruler. The first tyrant would have never even cared about how their concubine would feel under such humiliating activities.

Ever since Chu Fei was dead, the room was untouched by the servants. The only one who made visits was the second lord. His scent was still there, even if it was faint. Nobody saw the second ruler crying, but every time that the ruler was spotted visiting the room, the servants sent stares of sorrow.

There was no empress, but even despite that, Chu Fei was still assigned to be the concubine. The second ruler took a liking toward females, so there were multiple suggestions about empresses coming from them, mostly directed to a woman that goes by the name Song Qiutong. The second ruler had heard of Song Qiutong’s beauties, so they were quite intrigued.

The second and first tyrants shared almost everything. A bed. Which the both of them shared ever since the second ruler turned 16. During their times in the music building, where they shared food and scraps of supplies with each other. Nowadays, food and other necessities aren’t a problem; after all, they have the entire cultivation world in their palm.

Lastly, a concubine. If there was ever an empress, the second ruler was fine with sharing the empress with the first tyrant. When the news that the second ruler is choosing another lover gets to the ears of the first tyrant, furious is an understatement of how Taxian Jun felt. The night following the news was intense. Taxian-Jun showed no mercy toward the second ruler in bed, marking every location visible to his naked eye. Complaining to them as he planted his next mark.

Later on, the idea of getting an empress was abandoned.

The second ruler was the “calmest” of the tyrants. But even they have lost count of the times that they have to dirty their hands with blood. If anyone knew the voices in their heads, people would have thought otherwise. The voice was like guidance; half of the second ruler’s actions were suggested by it. But that doesn't mean that the second ruler would always obey the voices; there would be times where they would automatically deny the requests from the voices.

Unlike the first tyrant of the cultivation world, the second ruler killed their mother.

Nobody in the world knows that, not even Taxian-Jun. Others assumed that the commoner woman must have wronged them so badly that they even killed the woman and the woman’s family. A son and a husband.

Taxian-Jun, on the other hand, knows that you weren’t the true child of Madam Mo, but he didn’t know that the woman was your mother.

Those were your first human kills, and ever since then, things have gotten more bloody. Taxian-Jun has his first human kills much earlier than you, from back when he was 14 years old.

—-

Taxian-Jun has grown more clingy to the second ruler, especially after Chu Fei’s death. The second ruler was the only one he had left. Concubine Chu’s death hit both of them hard, even if one wouldn't admit the effects it had on them. There was almost a missing piece after his departure. If one must be picked, whoever got hit the hardest upon the death of the concubine would be the second ruler.

The second ruler has gotten much busier attempting to find ways to revive the concubine, but none works. Taxian-Jun, who has nobody to please them, has gotten even more grumpy and violent. None of his subordinates were spared from his wrath. Taxian-Jun set his eyes on Song Qiutong, the woman that the second ruler had previously recommended to him.

Song Qiutong has already married one of the richest noblemen, who was quite a gentleman to her, especially with her charming looks. That didn't stop Taxian-Jun from casting an order to slaughter the man. Song Qiutong is now missing her husband. Who else is going to take that spot? Taxian-Jun.

It was also the first time that he had seen her in person. Since the last time the second ruler requested her in-person meeting, he has denied it through his special method.

It didn't take a fool to know that Song Qiutong was only Taxian-Jun’s way to get the second ruler jealous enough to pay more attention to him. His method didn't work. With that, Taxian-Jun left Song Qiutong’s bed empty for most of the night. Song Qiutong wasn’t happy about that at all, but there was nothing much that she could do other than attempt to convince either of the lords to sleep with her in their non-sober states. Mostly Taxian-Jun became her targeted victim since the second lord was away for most of the time.

Whenever the second lord does come for a visit, she isn’t able to take her chance either, especially with her other spouse Taxian-Jun in the way.

—-

You were dead. Buried next to Chu Fei. Died much earlier than Taxian-Jun. Song Qiutong is dead as well. Buried elsewhere. Taxian-Jun is truly all alone. His dog's heart is telling him to cry grief, but he can’t, at least not anymore.

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navycat305 · 5 months ago

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hello this is only slightly terrifying but I wrote something for the first time and posted it publicly so here it is

Will also put it under the cut :)

It’s not until a week or so after the case that it catches him, like a thorn snagged in the material of a jumper, one that you only notice when it pulls you back, sudden and sharp as you hurry along. He’s flicking through his contacts, checking he’s got all the important ones he needs for mundane things - insurance, and his landlord, and the landlord for the office. The reset was inconvenient, sure, but it wasn’t horrible, not like the two small marks on his upper arm that Maya likes to bump against her own a little too gleefully whenever someone mentions the name Manfred von Karma. He’d have to track down Larry again, which could take months given the guy’s talent for doing multiple things on a whim without telling people between the somewhat brief times they met in person. There are still no names under the tab marked ‘E’. That hasn’t changed.

It’s only when he gets to ‘M’ that he stops. Thinks, briefly, until it sinks in. There is only one name under it that he has re-entered, and that is Maya Fey. He’d known it without asking her, a remnant of every single time he’d stared at the number between December and April, finger hovering over the call button until he’d inevitably sigh and turn away to other things, clients, business, who knows what else. Sometimes he’d talk to Charley about it, then panic when he remembered that he couldn’t recall how long it had been since he’d last watered him.

He supposes that it’s hard to remember everything when you’re building back up from nothing. Hell, he just went through amnesia, of course he should understand that. Still, it doesn’t hit less hard when he realises that he hasn’t put any other names under ‘M’.

He remembers when she gave him her number, still hacking up nothing every so often and wheezing a little in odd moments that made conversation awkward. “To ensure that you stay out of trouble,” he recalls her saying, with that wry smile he’d come to know whenever she teased him. He didn’t really consider it at first, rushing around in a daze and picking up as many projects as possible, opening commissions, auditioning for the university’s summer play, heck even reading the paper for one of the first times in his life, enough that it meant he wouldn’t have time to slow down and start thinking again. His grades had never been better, and his professor had just invited him to exhibit one of his paintings in Ivy’s annual art show at the end of the semester.

That’s why he’d been busy in the art room, the afternoon sun lazily stretching through the skylights on the top floor of the building and gently warming his face each time he looked up from the canvas. He hadn’t read the article until a couple of days after it released, when it had found its way onto the floor in ripped sheets slightly stuck together with paint. That’s when he’d started thinking again, pacing up and down the halls until someone stuck their head out of their room and told him to be quieter, even though he hadn’t said a word. He’d looked at his own room with fresh eyes, seen the mess piling up in the middle instead of pushed to the corners as usual. His phone was on the desk amongst pencils, paints, a disembowelled sketchbook and a half-eaten chocolate bar that somehow hadn’t yet melted in the heat. He’d picked it up, taking a moment to recall her name, finding it there in all its clinical length: Mia Fey (lawyer).

Before he knew it, he’d hit the call button, mouth dry. Heard her voice after two rings, surprisingly quick at hiding slight confusion and just as friendly as it had been months ago. Asked her what he should do if he wanted to take the bar.

“Do you ever feel weird about still being able to talk to Mia?” It’s a stupid question, one he must’ve asked her so many times before. It has been a year, although they both know that doesn’t matter. He’s still staring up at the ceiling when he asks, so he doesn’t have to look at her and feel bad about bringing it up.

It doesn’t work, and he watches her out of the corner of his eye, fiddling with the limited edition Steel Samurai strap around her pink cell phone. “I mean, I guess. It’s weird that it’s Mia.” Her voice is level, but she also avoids his gaze. “I don’t know. It’s always been a thing.”

He can’t remember the last time he texted Mia, or called. He supposes that Maya had to do it more often, being two hours away by train, while he was only a bike-ride from her for several years. Digital communication for them was smaller things, preludes to the uncountable meetings at restaurants, the courthouse or simply the old, battered couch in the office, where they’d pour over papers or chat over shitty coffee. Did she ever think, he wonders, of faraway Maya when she sat opposite him all those times? He reminds himself, after a while, that he can ask. He doesn’t know if he wants to. “Still can’t get my head around it.”

Maya laughs softly, tired. “Most people can’t.” The sound of the air conditioning whirrs as they ponder it. “To be fair, you didn’t question it too much. I was surprised sis didn’t tell you earlier. But it kinda makes sense given that it has literally nothing to do with the law.” They both know that isn’t true, which makes it easier to leave unsaid. Makes him wonder what else Mia never bothered with.

“Sorta like she’s a phone call away, if you want to look at it like that,” he grunts. Maya hums, a strange sound that shifts. She starts to speak, then stops again.

“Like a phone call from the mountains….incredibly unreliable and hard to reach, but not impossible.” He snorts. “I always hated calling her from that phone booth. Usually Morgan was outside, glaring at me for about thirty minutes ‘cuz I’d spent too long in there. It was harder to find cell service though, so I kinda had to deal with it.”

He doesn’t have an answer to that, which is fine. He suspects that she’s happy for him to listen without comment. That is, until she offers it to him candidly for the first time. “I can channel her properly next time we’re in Kurain, if you want. Can’t get any worse than last time.” He thinks of the phone number he can’t remember, of the weight that still hangs over him, the feeling that the office is still hers after so long.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to do that.”

The prison is nicer than he thought it would be, especially after the several visits to the detention centre he’s now had. They let him in surprisingly quickly, and there’s not much waiting before she’s led out to see him, or at the very least stare at him from the other side of the glass.

“Mr Wright,” Lana greets him, much more warmly than he is used to. She seems a little confused at first that he should come to see her after all has been said and done, but she is still kind. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

They chat a little, about his recent cases and how she’s adjusted, the most recent time she called Ema two days ago, all the way in Europe, beaming with pride at her progress in school and forensics. Once again, the similarities don’t help. She can tell that he’s tiptoeing around it. “You want to ask about Mia, don’t you? We do have all the time we need now, after all.” But first, she asks how Maya is doing, and laments the fact that she's never met her properly. This surprises him. She laughs.

“She wanted to keep us separate, I think,” she muses airily. “Like two cats being slowly introduced to each other between a door, or something similar. It seems odd now I suppose, but it was very different for her in Kurain.” He still can’t reconcile her, so strong and full of cheek in the smart black suit, with a spirit medium in something Maya would wear. He can’t ever imagine her being pious - that’s a stretch too far. Lana smiles as she sees him try. “She used to tell me sometimes, about the village. Very rarely, you understand. Mostly she tried to make me forget that she was anything other than an LA native. It was frustrating for her a lot of the time.”

He wonders just how much Lana knows of Mia; what that ‘intellectual attraction’ had wrought from her. He can parrot her inflections, cheerful and serious, repeated every single trial: the only time a lawyer can cry is when it’s over. He’d never seen her cry at all. How long had she waited?

He asks her for Mia’s phone number. Lana repeats it automatically, and they stare at each other in silence. He lets it dissipate into the air, and watches the tiredness ebb into her eyes for the first time since he’d seen her in the defendant lobby before the last trial. There is nothing more to be said.

He still offers to get Maya to channel her. She looks more like the Lana he is familiar with when he does, with her February face that masks the pain. Her refusal is polite, and she thanks him for his consideration. He tells her he’ll come again soon, and hopes he means it.

Life goes on. He muddles through beside Maya and Pearls, taking a few small things on here and there for the money to fund an insatiable appetite for burgers. There’s been no progress on his contacts since August, nothing new to blindside him as it usually does. He watches the girls leave, once a month, each time the ghost of an offer to accompany them flailing before it gets very far. He sees Pearly’s shoulders slump when they return, and the way Maya bites her lip when she thinks nobody is looking. The days are getting longer.

“You should really get a new phone, Nick,” Maya says suddenly on one of those unremarkable evenings. Pearls is asleep on the couch, still with her coat on, and his heavy eyes envy her this small moment of peace, telling him he should’ve been asleep an hour ago. He turns around for a blanket instead of answering. “You’ve had that thing for, like, forever.”

It’s not that he’s putting it off. There’s not an issue with it really. Sure it’s still the first one he ever got, but there’s nothing wrong with that.

She sees him when he turns back to lay the blanket over her cousin and shrugs. “Just a suggestion. Fresh start, y’know? Didn’t you say that Wellington smashed it up a bit when he tried to get it back from you?” He shushes her and points to the sleeping Pearly. She makes a face back, but slips into a frown not long afterwards. “You said you were considering getting a new one last December, that’s all.” She gives a little gasp when it catches up to her, just as he stiffens. Doesn’t stop him when he walks out of the room to bed, wordless.

He doesn’t get up for several hours, and she burns next morning’s pancakes to show she is sorry.

“G’morning Nick,” Maya greets him groggily as he enters, breaking from her tussle with some wrapping paper and scrunching up her face in a yawn. “Do you know how to wrap presents?” He nods, kneeling down to take her place above the large set of coloured pencils, slowly reaching for the tape. “Is it too much? Or not enough? Aunt Morgan never did anything, so-”

“Maya,” he says, monotone with exhaustion, “it’s fine. It’s good, really. She deserves a nice Christmas and you’re giving her one. There’s nothing much more you can do. I’m proud of you.”

“Really?” He stops folding the corners of the paper. Her shoulders shake slightly against him, warm, until she springs up again, hastily swiping at her eyes with her sleeve. “Hey, I got those circus tickets too! I can’t believe we’re going to see Maximillion Galactica!”

He turns the wrapped present to her and she gives him a thumbs up. It is nestled under the little fake tree Maya had insisted they get while at the mall a week or so ago. He’d just been planning to drape some lights over Charley, but now the miniature conifer sits on a spare table with a few small decorations picked out the same day while the old Cordyline stricta twinkles half-heartedly in the corner. Maya babbles about a Christmas display downtown as he blurs the lights and leaves with his stare.

Larry had called sometime around 2am, that stupid ringtone that Maya had picked out for him blaring into his ears and startling him awake. The man had barely even regarded his grudging answers, all in a tone begging him to take a hint. He’d heard the muffled sound of club music interrupted by faraway feminine laughter, and hung up before Larry managed to slur that he loved him one more time. He squints through the dark at the numbers of the digital clock and feels a creeping sense of defeat at knowing he’ll have to take a nap later.

He grins a little guiltily when he only catches the tail-end of Maya’s reminiscences. “I asked to go every year after that, but…,” she sighs, and he puts it together far too quickly.

This is not the first Christmas without her, nor will it be the last, for either of them. But when was there time to stop and think on that grey day a year ago, something within him asks. After all, they were so busy that he, at least, had nothing left to give. The only thing he needed was answers, a real adult to sort the puzzle pieces and put the edges together. She had only ever been an echo of a message left while he was on another line. He makes a mental note for them to find their way downtown later, after the main rush of the day is over.

“Oh, I got something for you too, Nick!” Maya is handing him a small, rectangular box that she has managed to badly attach some paper to. “If it helps, I see it as another way to stick it to Morgan.” It’s heavier than he thought it would be, and he automatically cups it in his palms before registering it. He peeks back the wrappings and lets them fall from his fingers almost as soon as he does.

“Maya, I can’t take this.”

She huffs a laugh. “Of course you can, stupid!” His face does not change. Hers does, rapidly, flickering through several different things and eventually settling on lightheartedness. “If you weren’t going to let me pay rent, I had to do something!” She reaches for it and lifts the lid off, rifling through the assorted ephemera until she finds it, shiny and new, and waves it at him. She drops her arms, and her smile, when he continues to stare.

“Nick. Take it from me, old guy. You need a new phone. That thing can’t still be working properly.” He has no answer to give. The corners of her eyes crinkle with frustration, and she stands up at full height, all of her 5’1 to his 6’0. She’s almost glaring at him, mouth set in a thin line. “You can't wallow like this forever. Not for Pearly,” she swallows, “and not for me either. They’re gone.” It’s as soft as she can make it but he still flinches, tightening his grip over his pocket.

“I’ve broken so many rules for us, you know that? Calling Mia whenever we need her, outside of the candles, and altars and shit. We do that stuff for a reason. Because it’s just once, or twice, in order to help people find peace. Closure. And I can’t do that here. So I’m doing what I can.” She squints at him, fingers tangled tightly and voice trembling. “It has to happen, Nick.”

She raises her arms, holding out the phone, the glowing orange 4:59 of the digital clock morphing into 5:00am. He grasps it, fragile. He can hear her breathing, determinedly steady. Then, a sigh of relief as she tackles him by the waist.

“Thank you,” she whispers. He holds her tightly and swears again, for good measure, to never let her go.

He shuts the box in his desk drawer amidst the nest of paper and happiness scattered around the living room hours after. Maya and Pearls lie sleeping on their mattress, curled into one another after a day of delight and exhaustion in equal measure. He tiptoes around them to make it to the couch and pinches his brow with two fingers, staring at the drawer like he can see through it. He runs his fingers over the scratched buttons on his old reliable and tries to hopscotch Mia’s number aimlessly, without success but also, to his surprise, without staggering remorse. Hopes Maya can be content with his acquiescence, that he will be able to set it up sooner or later.

Yeah, he thinks, watching the girls - his girls, his and Mia’s - breathe in tandem with one another, a soft smile falling onto his face. He can do that later.

(Later, he will get a call from Maya that Maximillion Galactica has been arrested from murder, and find himself knee-deep in another incredulous case that doesn’t feel entirely real.)

(Later, he will be phoned by a smooth-voiced killer that leaves them fighting for their small existence and digs into his very core with each successive ring until there is nothing he can fight with anymore.)

(Later, he will limp from the courtroom while Pearl clings to him, hand her to a concerned bailiff and throw his phone on the ground so fiercely that it breaks into uncountable fragments, in both anger and relief.)

(Later, he will pass the new phone to Maya and she will gasp in delight and pick out the same old Steel Samurai ringtone that has bothered him for the last couple of years, and he will not change it.)

(Later, he will find a contact under ‘E’ and call it over and over again. As time goes on, it will move to ‘M’.)

(Later, Mia will stop answering Maya and Pearl, and he will be okay.)

But for now, there is peace. He closes his eyes, perhaps imagining that faint outline of the Chief in front of him just before he does. His phone slides from his hand and onto the cushion beside him. There is one contact under ‘M’. It is enough.

#ace attorney #maya fey #mia fey #phoenix wright #ace attorney justice for all #lana skye #original post #mmmm this is scary sharing writing is weird

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