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dekariosclan · 3 months

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Imagine Gale as a talented and impressive young man, able to compose the Weave at will, skilled in a way that few can match, and favored by the Goddess of Magic herself. Imagine that because of these accomplishments, he’s caught the eye of a few up-and-coming magic adepts, and he falls in love with one of them—his first real love. Gale isn’t one to toss the ‘L’ word around lightly, so when he tells them he loves them, he means it; he gives himself over to them completely.

And in return, they love him for his potential. For his status. For the magic he can command. They love the wizard they see on the surface, but not the man underneath. They are attracted to his power, but not to him.

So of course the relationship fails, after the thrill of his magic wears off. But because Gale is a resilient young man and he’s caught the eye of so many, he soon falls in love with another.

And then it happens again. And again.

And each time Gale’s heart is ravaged, his ambition to become a better wizard grows, because he’s being shown time and time again that his magic ability is all that matters.

So much so that, by the time Mystra decides to elevate him from Favored to Chosen to Lover, he welcomes her with eager, desperate arms. Because if all his worth is in his magic, and that’s all he has to offer, and that’s all anyone wants from him, who better to love him than the Goddess of Magic herself?

Except…there’s a nagging voice in the back of his head that whispers she doesn’t really love him. There’s anxiety in his heart as time passes, and he reaches both the limit of what his talents can do and what Mystra will allow him to do. And most troubling of all: a growing panic that, just like his other lovers, she will soon grow tired of him and discard him if he can’t improve his magic any further.

He tries pouting, and pleading, and begging her to let him take more power, to let him be more for her, but she refuses. Smiles patronizingly. Tells him to be patient. But Gale can’t be patient when his power is tied so closely to his self-worth; he can’t be patient when doing so in the past has only ever lead to heartache.

So he does what he believes will be a Grand Romantic Gesture, one that will finally put him on equal footing with the woman he loves. Instead, it turns out to be a folly that dooms him and destroys his talents. And just as he’d always feared, Mystra tosses him aside the moment his magical gifts are gone—because what’s left of him holds no value for her.

————

Imagine Gale in his tower, alone, afraid, the ever-hungry orb in his chest, with only his tressym there to help him. No other friends to speak of. His colleagues forced to keep away for their own safety. His magical talents utterly stripped down, so that even when he does try and distract himself with illusions, he’s bitterly reminded of what he used to be capable of. Waking every morning wondering if it will be his last, ending every day full of loneliness and disappointment.

…and then he meets Tav.

At the lowest point in his life, at his most vulnerable, when he knows he’s going to be considered a burden, he meets this stranger and their group. So he does what he can to be useful—assigning himself to be camp cook, offering up his (now meager) magic skills, turning the charm up to 11—as he desperately hopes this will somehow work out. He’s pleasantly surprised when, after providing only minor details of his condition, Tav agrees to help him. He’s even more surprised when they actually follow through.

Imagine how Gale feels as Tav treats him kindly. As he grows to trust Tav, and then grows to like them. Imagine his surprise as he opens up and shows them more and more of himself, and they don’t turn him away.

But then his condition worsens. And he has to reveal everything: the foolish mistakes he’s made, and how dangerous he is as a result. He clings to Tav’s hand as he shows them his folly. He’s at their mercy now, and he knows this might be the last time he’ll ever feel the touch of another being, if they decide—and Gods, why wouldn’t they decide?—to cast him out.

…but they don’t. They don’t. Instead, they tell him to stay.

Imagine the relief Gale feels. The gratitude. And perhaps…just a hint of something more. Something that he dare not name, but that flares to life every time he thinks of how warm their hand was in his. Something that feels dangerously close to jealousy, when he’s had too much to drink and sees Tav smiling at another…

But he knows these are all foolish thoughts, because he has nothing to offer Tav. They are wonderful just as they are, but he…he is an empty shell of a man, a discarded husk of a wizard, and while they might tolerate him, he could never believe they might actually want him.

And besides, he still thinks of Mystra. He still longs for Mystra. She who cast him out, but to whom he still feels tethered. Sometimes he needs to cocoon himself in the weave, just to try and calm his fears and bring some joy back to his life, because magic is his life. And sometimes he just needs to see her face, even though that hurts as much as it heals.

One night he’s lost in thought, having conjured Mysta’s image after settling down at camp. Thinking that even if she hadn’t ‘loved’ him—certainly not in the way he’d loved her—she’d given him enough otherwise, hadn’t she? She’d amused him and been amused by him, they’d shared countless pleasures, why hadn’t he been satisfied with that?

Gale is so lost in thought he doesn’t realize Tav has come up behind him. Until they ask a question, startling him out of his trance. He’s a bit shaken, so he tries to turn the conversation from Mystra to the weave itself. And then a wonderful idea occurs to him, something that he’d been toying with already: what if they were to conjure the weave together?

He can show Tav how important magic is to him, let them experience what he does, perhaps even impress them a bit. But most importantly, share a moment with them. As friends would do…

He’s elated when Tav agrees. He leads them through the steps effortlessly, and they’re a surprisingly good student, following his instructions correctly (if a bit clumsily). He’s as excited as they are—perhaps even more so!—when they succeed in channeling the weave.

It’s such a pleasant, familiar feeling for him, like coming home to his tower in Waterdeep. Even as the weave connects him with Tav and makes them one, he’s easily able to hide his innermost thoughts, because he’s done it so many times before.

…but he’s forgotten that Tav has not.

————

Imagine Gale knowing every romantic partner he ever had only wanted him because of how he could raise their status, or how he could amuse them, or how he could command magic for them. And, each time, he was happy to oblige them, even desperate to oblige them, because if that was the price of their love, then he was sure it would be worth it.

But it still all came to nothing.

Now imagine Gale connected in an intimate way with someone he likes very, very much—while being what he considers his lowest, most worthless, and most humbled self. As far from the powerful, impressive wizard he once was as he could ever be. And suddenly a vision enters his mind from the lovely creature standing next to him. Only, to his complete and utter shock, it isn’t one where he is providing them with a service, or wowing them with his magical ability, or granting them some kind of power from one of the spells he commands.

Instead, when he sees their desire laid bare before him, it’s a vision of kissing him. Of holding his hand. The two most basic forms of affection and physical connection. The two things that he would still be able to offer them even if every last ounce of his remaining magical abilities were stripped from him. The two things he could share with them even if he was no longer Gale of Waterdeep, and just plain old Gale Dekarios instead.

Imagine the embarrassment and trepidation he feels at first, because surely he is mistaken?…and then the elation when he realizes that he is not. So much elation that his concentration is broken, the weave dissipating as he forgets about channeling it, as he forgets about Mystra. Because all that matters to him now is the image before him—the most pleasant and welcome image he’s seen in a very, very long time.

Imagine how that would feel…and how besotted, enamored and completely devoted he’d be to Tav afterwards. To know that someone finally—finally—just wants him.

Just imagine.

#Please enjoy this huge dissertation about Gale #(which was unintentional)#I originally wanted to talk briefly—BRIEFLY—about why the weave scene is so important to him #And then I….kept writing lol #Please also note that while this focuses on successfully channeling the weave I also LOVE the talk you have with him if you ‘failed’ it!#The same themes apply there because when you tell Gale you still think about being alone together he replies that he hopes to embrace you #It’s all about Gale finally finding someone who appreciates him just as he is and being able to connect with them #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #baldur's gate 3 #gale x tav #bg3

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 1 month

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I want you whipped into shape!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #better drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #yu ziyuan #wang lingjiao #wen zhuliu #'When I say jump - say “how high'”? You know you're doing it right when you start to cry!“#Of course I can't resist the Legally blonde reference. This is the Elle Woods is canon in PD-MDZS blog #I love this scene so much. There are a lot of things to say about it and I would go over the limit if I indulged.#Suffice it to say the main takeaway *here* is that I think YZY is milfboss of the millennia.#I intended for this to be posted on international women's day but my ambition led me to keep trying to make it better.#And by better I mean I spent several days (re)drawing this one and that is **not** what poorly-drawn-mdzs is supposed to be about.#I will be making the next few comics worse to compensate <3 At the very least I will honour my time and tag it as 'better drawn'#('my time' spent hunched over my desk while I chant 'this concept is *not* above my skill level!' over and over again)#Funny story about PD!Wen Zhuliu; he was supposed to show up sooner but I kept accidently cutting the comics he would have been in.#So I like to think he just went on a long coffee run. 'Go get me an (insert coffee chain) pink drink' said Wen Chao.#'He never said from which location' said Wen Zhuliu as he proceeded to walk 100km to the farthest cafe he could find.

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elitadream · 1 year

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Mario was always a knight at heart. 🤺😊❤️

(Now including Peach’s side!^^)

#Mario #Luigi #Mareach #I've been wanting to draw them as kids for such a long time omg #I couldn't resist any longer 😭#just a little scene I kept thinking about and HAD to draw #what if Mario had always secretly wished for this? :3 #a chance to protect and save a lovely lady 💖#Who knows?^^#headcanons #Super Mario Bros #fanart

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popslwttuce · 4 months

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"Wait, was that a compliment?"

#I wanted to redraw this scene so bad #It's 3 am where I live rn #the gay hedgehogs kept me awake I can't stop thinking about them <33 #sth #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #sonic prime spoilers #sonic prime #.popsicles!

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thesunisatangerine · 5 months

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against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part nine

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: mentions of grief, suggestive material, hurt/comfort

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 6.6k

words in italics: whatever language you like

Before this misunderstanding could get any bigger, you stepped in quickly.

“Alexia, this is Elisa, my daughter and that’s my brother’s husband, Robert. Elisa, Robert, this is Alexia.”

At that, Alexia’s gaze softened but when she met your eyes, questions swam in those hazel pools, ones that you sensed concerned your daughter. You gave Alexia a tight-lipped smile in answer–this was neither the time nor place to talk about something like that.

“Oh, I see. It’s nice to meet you both,” Alexia spoke in English.

She walked closer to the stands to where Robert stood and reached out a hand for him to shake. Robert–who finally got some of his color back after Alexia stopped leering at him–regarded Alexia’s hand with an uneasy look like it was something dangerous before he eventually shook it. Then Alexia turned to Elisa and offered her a closed fist while your daughter only gawked at Alexia, obviously starstruck. “And it’s nice to meet you, too, Elisa.”

Elisa remained still and unusually quiet so you coaxed softly, “ladybug?”

That seemed to snap Elisa out from her starstruck stupor and as she came back to herself, her eyes darted to you. You smiled at her, encouraging, then you tilted your head at Alexia’s direction. Slowly, Elisa bumped her fist against Alexia’s, cheeks reddening immediately as she scurried off behind Robert right after, peeking through the gap between her uncle’s hip and arm to look at Alexia shyly.

“Do you want me to sign your shirt?”

Elisa nodded. Robert passed the shirt to Alexia, who signed it, before she passed it back to Robert.

“Thank you,” came Elisa’s bashful gratitude.

When your eyes flitted back to Alexia’s face, you found her brows tilted upwards which allowed the stadium lights to brighten her already fair eyes. She looked on at Elisa’s timid display with warmth and the sight of such softness in her demeanour tugged at your heartstring.

Without tearing her attention away from Elisa, Alexia said through a small smile, “she’s adorable, no?”

“She’s a little shy but she’s actually a big fan of yours. You should see her practicing your moves–”

“Mom…” Elisa whined, stopping you from embarrassing her further. You sent her an apologetic smile before you mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ to her.

“Oh, you play football? How old are you?” Alexia asked softly.

After a moment of silence, you took the helm when you noticed Elisa wasn’t going to answer. Her reaction to Alexia was completely understandable. Alexia, despite being one of the warmest people you knew, could easily intimidate some with her presence due to her reserved and stoic nature. Her gaze–especially for the ones who were new to meet her–could be so intense and disarming that it was hard not to look away or, in this case, shy away from her.

“She turned twelve last February. And yes, she’s actually enrolled in a Barça Academy located near our city.”

Alexia’s brows rose with interest. She regarded Elisa again as she spoke, switching to Spanish this time, with clear approval in her tone. “So she has Blaugrana in her blood. What position does she play?”

“Barça is by far her favorite club and it doesn’t help that you play in it. And she plays forward.” You answered in the same tongue.

Alexia hummed, the corner of her lips quirking up. You knew that look so when she turned back to you, you raised a brow at her.

“What? Disappointed she doesn’t play midfield like you?”

She flashed you a sheepish half-smile and rubbed her cheek with a finger, a gesture that you still found so endearing, before she threw her hands up in false surrender. “I’m just saying! And you can’t really blame me for having a bias.”

“No, of course not. How could I hold that against you?” You said in an excessively dry tone. What you didn’t expect was for Alexia to throw her head back as laughter bubbled out from her throat in a familiar melody that tickled your ear, and you couldn’t help the grin that made its way to your lips at her amusement. She looked so beautiful like this: her hair–now back to its light brown shade–untamed with the way baby strands clung to the slight dampness on her temple, and the rosy blush painted upon her cheeks and nose from the events that just occurred; she looked so carefree in this moment, in the aftermath of their victory, that the glow of her youth shone right through, unfiltered.

When your eyes flitted over to Elisa and Robert, you found them gaping at your interaction with wide eyes, looking very much unsure on what to make of it. Then you also realised Alexia’d stopped laughing and she was now looking at you with a small smile on her lips. Your cheeks warmed at the attention, at having been caught staring, so you casted your eyes down to your feet, clearing your throat as you kicked an invisible pebble.

It surprised you, the ease with which you were able to fall back in playful banter with Alexia as if the fifteen months that made strangers from the both you never existed. Alexia must’d thought the same thing because when you looked at her again, Alexia’s smile had dimmed somewhat but the warmth in her eyes never left.

“Congratulations on the win, by the way. You earned it. All of you did.” You said, indicating at the golden medal around her neck. The urge to hug her as you spoke pervaded you but you managed to brush it off.

Alexia looked down at it, her lips quirking up into a small proud smile.

“Thank you.” A pause as she regarded you. And then, “want to hold it?”

The suggestion took you aback and you were quick to dismiss her. “Oh, no, I’m good–”

Alexia, being Alexia, stepped into you space anyway, took your right hand and placed the medal on your palm. You tried not to focus too much on how her touch electrified you by focusing on how the surface of the metal cooled your skin, its weight surprisingly heavier than it looked, and you traced its intricate engravings with the pads of your fingers, admiring the details.

“Can we talk?” Alexia said in a low voice that only the both of you would be able to hear. She was standing less than an arm’s length away from you–when did she get so close?–and the softness you found in her hazel eyes when you gazed up at her made you want to reach out and brush your thumb over the skin beneath them.

At your silence Alexia touched your right wrist and you felt her thumb grazed ove the bracelet she gave you. Her gaze was magnetic and you were powerless against her pull.

You began, “I–”

“Alexia! Come on, we have to go!” Both of your heads turned to the voice. It was Misa who was waving Alexia over to where their other teammates were gathering. Alexia gave Misa a gesture to wait and she looked back at you again but with desperation now in her eyes.

“Go. I’ll be in Barcelona for a week starting next Thursday. We can talk sometime then?”

Alexia nodded, gave you a small smile before she turned to walk away. She startled you when she faced you again and before you knew it, her arms were wrapped around your shoulders.

“Same place?” She whispered in your ear.

You snaked your arms around her waist.

“You know where to find me.”

So it was then on this late, warm Friday evening in Barcelona the week after the Olympics final, you found yourself opening the door to Alexia.

You had agreed to meet the next day for lunch so it was more than a surprise to you to find her under the warm glow of the porch light right then. And before a word could even leave your mouth to voice your confusion, Alexia strode into your space, crowding you until your back hit the cool surface of the wall next to the door as it swung close.

Alexia was in front of you now, the distance between you so sparse that you could feel the heat that emanated from her body. You stared up at her, breathless when you were finally able to speak, “Alexia–”

“Are you seeing someone right now?” Her tone was even though the crease in her brows and the fervid depth in her eyes made you shiver.

“Wait, what are–”

“Just answer me!”

“No! Why–”

Before you knew it, her hand cradled your jaw as she brought her lips to yours, and the only thing you could do was gasp from the sudden heat of it all. It was filled with such ardour, Alexia’s kiss, that each movement of her lips threatened to both destroy and mend you again, each pull as devastating and as sweet as the last. But the sweetness didn’t last long; not after you felt the warmth against your cheeks and tasted salt on your tongue.

Alexia was crying.

She was aching, you knew it–could feel it in the slight quiver of her lips, in the frantic way with which her fingers tangled in your hair. And from her pain came yours, unfurling from your heart, into your throat, longing–reaching–to comfort and be soothed by her, your almost lover. Though it hurt, it made your teeth ache with the bittersweetness of it all because here she was breathing the same air as you, sharing the same heat as her lips melted with yours, and, god, how it felt like coming home–like the first breath once you breached the surface after being submerged for so long.

Was this what it felt like to be exhumed? Was this what life tasted like?

The kiss was slow and deep, the way only two almost lovers knew how to; the both of you took your time mapping each other’s lips, learning how to move in the same rhythm again. It was familiar but the tenderness–that gentle ardour–was above all else amplified, warming your flesh and blood to a delicate simmer.

You sighed against Alexia’s lips as you pressed your body further into her, and in response she to you, and you relished how in spite of the strength that rested beneath the firmness of her self, everything about her remained, oh, so soft. And it was this want for more closeness that prompted you to tighten the grip around her hand that cupped your jaw, an unspoken plea for her to not let go–to not let you go.

How had you gone on for so long without her touch?

A familiar scream ruptured the silence, shattering the moment instantly.

It was automatic and immediate your reaction to it: you tore yourself from Alexia’s embrace and rushed towards Elisa’s bedroom, ignoring the way your vision blurred from the sudden exertion, your lungs protested as you hurried up the stairs. You were already expecting it but like all the times you were faced with it, your heart broke all the same at the sight of Elisa sitting up by the headboard of her bed, spine crooked as she curled in on herself, head lowered to the top of her knees while her hands pressed against her ears. Upon your intrusion, she lifted her head to reveal wide eyes that darted to you, frantic at first, but the apprehension in them dimmed when she saw you.

You tried to compose yourself as you approached her slowly, before you placed yourself just by the edge of her bed.

Gently, you called out, “ladybug?”

Not a second later did Elisa throw herself into your embrace and immediately hid her face in the crook of your neck, her hands clawing and gripping at the fabric of your shirt while her sobs made rattles from her bones. All of her self was tense, taught and coiled, her pain’s physical manifestation–all the intangible grief violently wrought into existence.

Elisa clung to you as she cried and you could do nothing in the moment but offer comfort through your embrace, hugging her just as tight, brushing back her hair–consoling–as you began a common lullaby in her mother tongue, rocking her to its gentle rhythm in the hopes that it could salve the wounds of her past even a little.

In her own time, Elisa emerged from the throes of her grief, her grip on your soaked shirt loosened, her sobs now reduced to hiccups and sniffles. You carded your fingers through her damp hair and wiped the sweat that lined her forehead.

As softly as you could, you whispered, “want to talk about it, ladybug?”

Elisa didn’t answer as she seemed to gather herself, gnawing on her lower lips, brows creased in a pained frown. You were about to remind her that she didn’t have to when she answered in a voice so small that made the rawness in it all the more pronounced.

“I saw Mother’s… I saw her dead beside me again.” She cuddled closer to you before she continued, “it’s always been her but when I looked this time I–”

Fresh tears sprung to her eyes, they fell when she squeezed them shut, and your heart broke a little more. You were quick to hug her tighter, pressing a kiss on the top of her head to console her. Elisa sniffled then she continued, “this time I–I saw you instead. I saw you dead.”

Elisa whimpered and she clung to you again.

“Oh, ladybug. That must have been difficult to see.” You hugged her tighter. “Were you scared?”

Nod.

“What were you scared of?”

Silence.

“I was scared because I thought I was alone again. I was scared you left me, too.”

Her answer made you pause and you regarded her, your worry now twofold.

“What else do you feel, Elisa?”

“I don’t know,” Elisa shrugged. She pressed a fist to her chest, “but it hurts right here. I hate it. I want it to disappear. Why does it still hurt so much?”

The state of her pained you enough as it was but how much more agonising this must be for Elisa? So you pressed your temple on her head as you began, soft but firm when the words passed through your lips.

“It aches so it’s not surprising you want it to go away. And you hate it because it stays with you. And it hurts because you’re still grieving, Elisa. A year may feel like a long time but what happened to you is not an easy thing to move on from. You’re still trying to heal.”

“If there is part of you that’s telling you it’s your fault your family died, I want you to remember that it isn’t. It isn’t your fault. You were so loved, Elisa, and you loved them just as much. And you still are loved.”

“I won’t leave you. As long as we’re here–your Uncle Derek, Uncle Robert, Nana, and I–as long as you want us to be, we’ll be your family and we love you. And death might come for all of us, and it is scary, terrifying and painful most times, but our love will never fade. The love given to you and the love that made you, they will never leave you, Elisa. Love comes and goes, and it may change its form, but it is never lost. You’re right here with me and you’re safe, and I love you. You’re never alone, ladybug, don’t you ever forget that.”

Elisa turned her head to look up at you and in the warm glow of her nightlight, you saw her chin quiver. “Promise you’ll never leave me?”

“As long as I breathe, I promise.”

You pressed a kiss on the top of her head, on her temple, then on her forehead before you hugged her again. Elisa sagged in your embrace as a watery sigh escaped her lips, and though she sniffled, she shed no more tears.

“I love you, too, Mom.”

In response, you kissed her forehead.

“How are you feeling now, ladybug?”

“A lot better, thank you.”

“Do you need me to get you anything?”

“Water, please?”

“Okay. Do you want to come with me downstairs or are you alright with me going for a bit?”

Elisa thought about it before she said, “I’ll be alright here.”

You smiled at your daughter, half encouraging and more than proud, as your chest filled with warmth at her display of bravery. You stood, grabbed a fresh shirt from her closet and placed it on her lap so she could change out of her damp one. “Okay. How about you change into this while I’m gone, hmm? I’ll be right back.”

She nodded and you darted out of the room but not after you placed another kiss on top of her head and squeezed her knee for reassurance. So engrossed were you in your aim that you nearly ran into Alexia who was just standing off to the side of the doorway, an unopened bottle of water in hand. As soon as she saw you, she offered it to you without a word with a soft look in her eyes made warmer by the dim, yellow glow of the wall lamp beside her head. It was a simple gesture but your heart expanded from the thought behind it, so much so that you nearly cried when you took the bottle from her.

“Is there anything else you need?” Alexia whispered as she stepped into your space, brushing the back of her hand over your cheek gently. You leant into the comfort of her touch and sighed, before you shook your head in answer.

“This is more than enough, thank you.” You met Alexia’s gaze one more time before you knocked on Elisa’s door and slipped back into it upon her consent. Once inside, you opened the bottle and gave it to Elisa and as she sipped from it, you ventured into her closet again to grab a small towel to dry her sweat with.

“How do you feel, ladybug?” You asked as you ran the towel over her face and the back of her neck.

“Sleepy,” she said with a small smile. You returned it in kind.

“Do you want to try going back to sleep? I’ll stay here if you want.”

Elisa yawned her agreement as she nodded so you tucked her in. Then you reclined against her headboard and began a lullaby, gently dragging the back of your finger in the space between her eyes until her eyelids fluttered close before her breathing deepened and eventually evened out. You remained there until you were certain Elisa had fallen asleep completely before you slipped back out, making sure to leave a slight gap between the door and the frame just in case Elisa woke up again.

It wasn’t a surprise when you found Alexia still patiently waiting out in the hall, who pushed herself from the wall she was leaning on upon seeing you.

“Is she okay?” She asked softly, looking over your shoulder at Elisa’s door, concern apparent in her tone and the crease between her brows.

“She’s… she’ll get there. She’s been through a lot for someone so young but she’s getting better.” It was getting frequent again, you noted with more than a hint of worry, Elisa’s recurring nightmares about the horrors she’d witnessed. You knew you needed to talk to Elisa about her therapy and if she’d be inclined to take more sessions to unpack this because there was only so much you could do to help her.

“What happened to her?”

You looked at Alexia at that, unable to answer her–had no desire to if you were being honest. How could you come up with the words to explain it especially when doing so would lead to questions about what happened to you? And that was something you truly didn’t want to, or even knew how to, talk about.

Alexia must had found something in your eyes because she just nodded at your reticence and casted her gaze down. You grazed your knuckles over the back of her hand, partly in appreciation for her respect and partly for her to follow you, while you stepped past her to the stairs down to the living room, Alexia’s footsteps not too far behind you.

The both of you entered the living room in silence, the tension from what transpired between the two of you upon Alexia’s arrival and the weight of what you were about to talk about made the air thick for breathing.

With crossed arms you settled on the wingback chair on the far side of the coffee table while Alexia situated herself on the other at the opposite side, leaving the couch unoccupied; the memories in it far too intimate for two people who’d grown apart.

During this reprieve, you finally allowed yourself the luxury to take Alexia in. You didn’t really get the chance to, it had all been a blur the moment she strode through the door, but now your eyes roamed over her freely.

She had a pair of low rise denims on, a leather jacket over a white shirt that revealed a strip of her stomach while her loose, light brown hair framed her face. Even when sitting down, her character remained undiminished especially with the way she sat with her legs parted, one hand hanging over the chair’s arm while the other was on her chin, fingers splayed over her lips as she regarded you quietly in a fixing gaze that left you feeling exposed–vulnerable.

Alexia brushed her lower lip with her fingers as she sank further against the upholstered back of the chair, tilting her chin up slightly as she kept her eyes trained at you. Her movement caused the warm glow of the light to touch her lips, drawing your attention to them, and you noted how they still glistened from the sheen of your lip balm from when she’d kissed you before, and the reminder made you burn, unpleasant in the way it ached, a bittersweet mixture of your immense desire and longing for the woman before you. It was intentional the way she moved; you knew it from the way Alexia’s eyes challenged you to speak up but you couldn’t quite find the words to say–you didn’t dare to.

“Are they real?” Came the question.

It was low and even, how Alexia posed it, but the abruptness with which the silence was broken made you flinch. That didn’t go unnoticed by Alexia it seemed because her gaze immediately softened.

“Are what real?”

“What you wrote in those notes you left me. Are they?”

The silence that settled in the space between you pressed against your chest, made even heavier with the weight in Alexia’s eyes. You tore your gaze away from her and you didn’t dare look back up.

“Look at me and tell me those didn’t mean a thing and I’ll leave.” ‘Just like you left me’, you heard the words Alexia left unspoken and then she continued, “I’ll leave and I won’t bother you again.”

She was serious. You knew if you lied and told her otherwise, she’d keep her word; she’d be out of your life completely. Were you willing to run? Were you ready to live a life without her for good?

Still without meeting her eyes you voiced barely above a whisper, “I… I can’t.”

Then you heard Alexia draw a breath, long and deep, followed by the unmistakable rustle of clothes before the air stilled once more. Not a moment later though a choked sound broke the quiet and immediately, your head whipped to the sound and found Alexia now bent forward, elbows resting on the top of her knees, her head bowed into the cradle of her open palms while her hair formed a curtain around her face.

“‘What’s happening to me? I’ve not know desire like this–like how it is with you. How, then, can I go on without you now that I found you?’” Each word came out strained as her breath stuttered and yours, too, hitched at what Alexia just recited. Then she lifted her head up a fraction but it was enough for you to see the undisguised pain reflected in those eyes and the sight of them made yours burn.

“You didn’t even give me a chance. You wrote and left those words to me but what was I supposed to do with them? What was I meant to do?”

A pause.

“I thought I knew what feeling lost was like. My ACL taught me that and when my father–” Alexia screwed her eyes shut as she drew in a heavy breath. She continued after a moment, “but after you went away, I felt lost again. I didn’t know what to do with myself, didn’t know how or what to feel. All I knew was I was mad at you for leaving, for what you said to me, for not responding… I was hurt. And I felt so empty that I didn’t look through that damn bag you left me.”

“But I missed you. God, I missed you, so I opened it and what did I find? Your fucking notes.” Alexia laughed, flat and void of any warmth, and she shook her head as if in disbelief, digging the heels of her palms into her sockets before looking back at you with raw eyes. “‘With every kiss, every touch, I become more yours. If you ask me to, I will surrender myself to you.’ If you truly meant that, why did you leave?”

“Won’t you even tell me why?” Alexia repeated, now pleading.

“I–” You began but the words caught in your throat as you turned her question over in her head because why, why did you leave?

“I was… I was afraid.” You admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Afraid of what?”

“To hear that I meant nothing to you, to know I felt more for you than you did for me. I was just one of your girls, right?” You laughed bitterly, hating the way tears immediately fell down your cheeks, as you looked over Alexia’s shoulder, unable to look her in the eye as you spoke. You were weak enough as it was, so bare that one word from her could make you bleed if she wanted to.

“I couldn’t bear to hear that from you so I left. And perhaps it was cruel of me to leave those notes behind but I didn’t want to take them with me. I didn’t want the reminder of what we had and what we could’ve been. And I guess, deep down, I just wanted you to know how you made me feel because even if it ended, even if it meant nothing to you, that doesn’t change the fact that you made me happy.”

“‘Nothing?’ What do you mean–” Confusion first swam in her hazel eyes but her eyes suddenly widened. “That day… you were there?”

You hastily wiped your tears away with the back of your hand. “Yes.”

“Oh my god,” Alexia whispered as she lowered her head even further, fingers digging into her scalp as she shook her head. You heard her mutter something in Catalan that you couldn’t quite understand, barely catching the familiar Spanish words for ‘kill’ and ‘two’ from whatever she said.

Then Alexia gazed up at you with fire in her eyes. “If what we had meant nothing to me, I wouldn’t be here. Whatever you heard that day, there’s no truth to it.”

“All of it? Then tell me, what did Mapi mean when she said I’m one of your girls?”

At that, Alexia opened her mouth before closing it again, then she casted her gaze aside.

Your heart dropped.

She wrung her fingers, the muscle in her jaw ticked while her frown deepened but she found the courage to look you in the eye again as she began to speak. “After I got injured, I was a wreck. It was one of the lowest points of my life. I felt like I was stuck, like my life was playing out in front of me and I couldn’t do anything but watch.”

“The world moved on but I couldn’t. I couldn’t get past it, what happened and what would come after. It was a constant one step forward, three steps back. So I… I slept around because I needed control. I was spiralling when you met me and it’s–it’s true I had others while I was with you.”

Oh, how her words branded you! Perhaps there was still a small part of you that hoped Alexia would deny it but as the words spilled from Alexia’s lips, that vision was immediately dashed and in its place bloomed anguish. Your eyes burnt as you took Alexia in, she–with her lips pressed in a thin line and the corners of them crooked downwards, brows furrowed so deep her eyes were almost covered–looked guilty and in as much pain as you upon her own admittance.

“I had others but not after the first time we had dinner together. At that point, I stopped. I stopped because I hoped… I hoped that we could be more. I still do. But it never meant nothing to me, you never meant nothing to me. I just want you to know that.”

You bit your lip as her words sank in, and your stomach dropped even further as you realised something. The falling out, it was all your fault, wasn’t it? If you’d just talked to her, none of this would’ve happened.

The silence must had lasted longer than you realised because you heard Alexia’s whispered plea, “please, say something.”

“I… I want nothing more than to be with you, Alexia. In my mind, it had always been you and instead of telling you, I didn’t do anything. I didn’t make my intentions clear and it was unfair of me to expect you to know them. I was going to–I was going to ask you to be mine that night but when I heard you say those words, I lost it.”

Tears tracked down your cheeks as you choked out, “I’m sorry. I broke us, didn’t I?”

Alexia was quick to answer.

“No, you were scared and hurting. I can’t hold that against you. And it’s not just you, it’s not like I was very vocal about what I wanted either. I should’ve told you what you meant to me, I should’ve made it clear what I wanted from this–from us.” Alexia looked into your eye with an ardent disposition that made you shiver while a small, hopeful smile graced her lips. “I still want you. If you still want me, have me.”

Her declaration moved you and this wasn’t the first time tonight that her words made your heart ache–fed fuel to the fire that was your yearning. The temptation to accept her offer was too much but you stopped yourself; the logical part of you who knew that you weren’t the same person as the one Alexia met prevented you from saying yes.

“I’m not the same person I was from before, Alexia. And I have a child. I don’t want you to trick yourself into thinking you want what comes with me just because you want me.”

“Then let me in! Let me know this version of yourself and don’t decide for me if I want or don’t want to be with you. Let me make that choice this time.” Alexia said, almost exasperated in the way she threw her hands up but desperation weighed heavier in her voice. “We don’t need to label it. You’re mine and I’m yours, isn’t that what matters?”

“And if it doesn’t work out?”

“And if it does? And now that we know what we want from each other, it’s not like how it was before.” Alexia countered easily. Then she added with a half smile, teasing. “C’mon. I thought you’re the optimistic one in this relationship?”

You couldn’t help it, you smiled at her lightness. Then you nodded.

“Okay. So, can we start over slow?”

“That sounds good.” Then Alexia grinned, mischievous with the way she brushed her thumb over her nose and how her dimple gilded the corner of her lips. “Hi, I’m Alexia. What’s your name?”

The absurdity of what she said caught you off guard, even more so the laughter that bubbled out from your throat. As your laughter faded and Alexia’s grin dimmed to a small smile, a vacuous silence settled over the both of you, a welcome reprieve from the weight and tension that filled the air moments ago. Your eyes roamed over Alexia’s figure in silent appraisal, and hers over yours, as you mapped the familiar contours of her silhouette. Then you noticed a change in her demeanour: her eyes darkened, a look you were well acquainted with fifteen months–a look that your body remembered all too well with the way your flesh burnt.

“Did you have others?” The question took you aback and you were sure that you weren’t able to hide the surprise from your face because where the hell did that come from? Still, you indulged her.

“Not in the way you think. I can’t even kiss anyone without thinking of you. It’s not fair to them if I take them on as my lover when I know I’m still hung up on you.”

“‘Still’, huh?” Alexia hummed in response and her gaze only became darker, eyes now lidded.

You scoffed at her arrogance but it lacked any real bite because it was true anyway. Your cheeks warmed at her attention and you crossed your legs, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Alexia–the way she bit her lower lip made it known to you she knew just what she was doing to you–before you casted your eyes aside, down to the floor. “Don’t be an ass about it.”

At the sound of clothes rustling, you looked back up only to find Alexia had already crossed the distance and now stood an arm’s length away. Your body, always in tune to her presence, parted your legs before you could think better of it and Alexia claimed what little space between you, her knees now against the edge of the chair.

She planted both hands on either side of your chair’s arms as she leant down, craning her neck so that you could feel the warmth of her breath against your cheek.

“I’m being serious.”

The words were whispered so close to your lips that you could feel the heat of hers as they brushed over yours.

“I tried. But you… you had others, didn’t you? I saw the photos.” You tilted your head, relished the way Alexia followed and ghosted over your lips as you did so, whispering the words against her jaw.

She shivered.

“One. Just the one before I read your notes.” And she leant in again and this time, you could almost taste her lips from how close she was to you. “She never touched me. And besides, who do you think she looked like?”

An image of the woman came to your mind. You didn’t realise it then but now her resemblance to you became apparent: the colour of her hair and the length of it, the colour of her eyes, her height. They were all similar to you.

“But you touched her.” It wasn’t a question and the silence that followed was confirmation enough. You didn’t hold that against her–couldn’t–but it hurt you still. You didn’t even know you’d teared up until Alexia swept her thumb over the corner of your eye, soft and careful; apologetic. And then a fire sparked in you, an all consuming green that prompted you to ghost your lips back to Alexia’s neck. You didn’t miss the way her pulse jumped when you left a light kiss there.

“Tell me, Ale. Did she feel better than me?”

“No,” Alexia choked out and the heat of it warmed your ear.

A kiss to the corner of her jaw. “Did she moan your name like I did?”

“No.”

You placed another kiss to the lobe of her ear before you whispered, low and cruel, and obscenely shameless.

“Did she come for you like I did?”

That did it.

Alexia took the back of your head in her hand and pulled you in for a kiss. A soft moan left your mouth–or was it from Alexia–as you surrendered to her heat, melting instantly and lips parting for her and her only. You felt her other hand creep down to the small of your back where she pulled you forward, urging you to stand up. When you did, and without breaking the kiss, Alexia manoeuvred the both of you until you felt the soft texture of the couch against the skin of your calves.

You pulled away with a gasp and before Alexia could upon her eyes, you stepped aside and pushed her just enough for her to end up on the couch, eyes flying in surprise at the sudden change of position. She opened her mouth, as if to protest, but she quickly shut it when you straddled her lap, hands automatically over her jaw and neck as you sank into her lips again.

Alexia dragged her lips away from yours and you were about to sigh in disappointment until you felt her tracing the lobe of your ear with her tongue. Then she nipped along your jaw as she whispered, a smile clear in her voice, “that’s right… You like being on top.”

You shivered as her hands traced your silhouette but when you felt her hands move from your ass to the edge of your shirt, brushing against the skin of your back with clear intentions, the haze lifted immediately as apprehension filled you. The words didn’t even leave your mouth before Alexia stopped her ministrations, pulling away from your lips gently, and she opened her eyes, which revealed at first the deep desire in them, now replaced with concern as she met your gaze.

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

Shaking your head, you placed a slow, lingering kiss on her lips before you broke away again, breathing heavily as you rested your forehead on hers.

“I’m sorry. And no, you didn’t. It’s not that I don’t want you because I do. God, I want you so much, you don’t even know, but I’m not–I think we’re going too fast and Elisa…” You trailed off, cheeks warming.

Without another word, Alexia fixed the hem of your shirt so the strip of exposed skin was covered, and placed a tender kiss on your cheek. Then she shifted beneath you, shrugged off her leather jacket and placed it on the coffee table, before she lied down.

A gentle hand on your back urged you down on her chest and upon doing so, you sighed as a sense of peace washed over you and you found yourself sinking into her tender warmth, into the safety of her arms wrapped around your waist.

She brushed back hair from your temple and you felt the flutter of her hum against your cheek before you heard it. “Are you comfortable?”

The gesture made you ache and you feared your words would fail you if you spoke so you only nodded, nuzzling the column of her neck with your nose and placed a kiss there as a form of gratitude.

Alexia pressed her lips on top of your head and then you heard her sigh, content. “Good.”

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n:#i told yall last time words will be spoken so here they are finally #kept changing my mind on where to put some of the scenes/dialogues. i cut out a pretty juicy one from this part for future use (hopefully)#dead tired but i finished it yall 🥲 i dont have fresh eyes atm so extra sorry for any mistakes in grammar/prose/spelling etc.#hope you guys like this and would love to know what you think about the story so far #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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morns-fevered-dream · 7 months

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One of my favorite scenes in DS9 and definitely my favorite Kira Nerys moment

#I kept thinking about this scene over the past few days #star trek #star trek ds9 #kira nerys #deep space nine #ds9 #star trek deep space nine #star trek deep space 9

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elfcollector · 1 month

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I feel ill. All the fools and villains who ever fell for my ploys, they're — they're here!

#gamingnetwork #vgedit #videogameedit #gamingedit #dailygaming #gameplaydaily #bg3edit #bg3 #bgedit #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #:(#i think this scene is so interesting and speaks to why i get so annoyed by the 'any portrayal of astarion #as having an degree of a conscience or goodness in him is stupid and woobifying. hes chaotic evil and thats IT' thing #the grief and guilt. the way he tries to talk himself into it. the way he removes HIS OWN autonomy to do it. pretends theres no other choic #esp in the context of other moments where he preens when hes called good. he LIKES being smth other than what cazador made him #but hes so SCARED. he spends this dialogue talking himself into killing them and he HAS to talk himself into it BECAUSE this kind of evil #isnt easy to him despite it all. theres still scraps of a conscience there yknow? and he hides it from himself by pretending hes less free #astarion is fun BECAUSE hes weird and contradictory and a bad person with the capacity 4 good. BECAUSE he doesnt know what he actually want #also i love the idea of him in this moment rly thinking abt the player....like whether theyre friends or romances #a player whos been really kind and loving to him...kept him safe....trusted him....#thinking about how they let their guard down for him and how in his old life THIS would have been the life #hed been damning them to....years and centuries in a tiny cage somehow even worse than his

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katabay · 2 months

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original thief series basso & garrett :)

ngl, it's about quality over quantity for me. an npc can have a total of three minutes of screen time, but if they have a cool name, they can live rent free in my head and I'll spend several hours trying to decipher drawable features from a blurry screenshot of pixels

there is a vague hint of a story here, and that's because every time I try to play thi4f, I get incredibly frustrated with how Not Fun the game play is. like, is the story good? well. but it has a PLAGUE. that should've given it instant 'I'll replay this once a year' status in my heart, but the game play sucks so bad that I've never finished it. I can't believe Not Fun gameplay beat out my obsession with narrative plagues.

anyway, the idea is basically if the original era had a game with a plague centric narrative and some other stuff I liked out of thi4f thrown into a narrative blender, with a heavy dash of horror thrown in because some parts of the thief games were scarier to me than entire dedicated horror genre games.

⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app

#if i had a laptop and the skillset i would attempt a story mod because the thief modders who create whole mission stories #are GENIUS and also somewhat terrifying. love them! xoxox #anyway im actually kind of obsessed with parts of thi4f but its also like. not at that sweet spot of almost good enough to be fun #to talk about. which. for the record. has not stopped me from talking about it at length to people #the city itself actually fucking fascinates me. its almost alive and im SO mad that not a single part of that game is actually terrifying #it should be gnarlier and instead it feels a bit like it doesn't quite want to be trapped in the story it has to tell?#but between the level that has the bodies on the meathooks #and the scene with the bodies hanging from the rafters or whatever that was and garrett living in a clock tower #because the game is very much ALMOST about changing times and authoritarian violence and capitalism #(like. by virtue of how the story sort of spins out i think it misses it's mark on a lot of stuff here #in the sense that i dont feel like it actually wants to tell that story. it wants to. go in a different direction. or at least walk on top #of those themes instead of through it)#ANYWAY between all of those things. it does kind of live in my head rent free. they did create a compelling setting #SHAME THEY DIDNT WANT TO ACTUALLY EAT ANY OF IT #unrelated but i would've given thi4f a 10/10 if they kept garrett's fucking nail polish from the concept art. cowards. unforgivable #thief the dark project #i still have no idea how to tag the game series as a whole RIP #sorry for the dedicated dark project fans. if you know what the general series tag is. please let me know #garrett thief #basso thief

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thelassoway · 7 months

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Jason Sudeikis as Ted Lasso Seasons 1-3 » T-shirts

#Ted Lasso #Theodore Lasso #Jason Sudeikis #*mine: gif #tedlassoedit #ugh you idiot with that face #stop staring at me swan #I think I got all the T-shirt moments for Ted. Can you guess the two scenes I forgot and had to go back and add???#I've also kept these in order of season/episode appearance and it feels kind of telling #not quite sure how I'm feeling about these and how they turned out #these are all from 2160p video files (I've only worked with 2160 one other time) and the timing of these frames looks off #I did my best to fix and readjust them #to the 5 to 8 people that read these tags let me know if I should keep trying/working with 2160p or just stick with 1080p #can we see a major difference in the image quality? I'm using all my same edit settings here #@chainofclovers I saw your tags about the black Joe Arthur shirt I was/have been thinking the same thing #I'm glad I got my o.g. laptop to power up to finish this gifset (definitely a power button issue)#will I ever make that mirror gifset idea??? probably not but I got a couple of mirror moments here #I almost used the other mirror moment from episode 7 but I wanted a different angle/view #this gifset could've been a lot more of Ted in bed wearing T-shirts tbh #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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thranduel · 8 months

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some thoughts about astarion because i'm tired of the internet reducing him to one thing

when bg3 came out in early access, astarion was always seen as the extremely flirty, confident guy who enjoyed sex (or so we thought) and spoke about it like it was his favourite thing. he was also kinda marketed as the “sexy vampire”, so you can understand why many people saw him that way based on the little amount of content we had. even while playing act 1 and act 2, many players still might think of him like that because he does have a very charismatic personality and he asks to sleep with you very early on, so it just automatically makes you think he’s genuinely happy doing that and being totally serious.

BUT!!!!!!! we end up finding out later on that’s NOT the case and it was all part of a plan to seduce us in order for him to gain protection. he opens up about his past and his trauma and how he was forced to use his body to lure people back to cazador. he struggles with intimacy and relationships in general because of this. that’s why i really hope that people stop reducing him to “hot sexy vampire that loves flirting and having sex with everyone” when that is not who he is, he’s literally traumatised because of sex due to being forced into it and he’s slowly trying to heal. he’s also so much more than just “the hot vampire”, ya know? if you actually put in the effort to get to know him, you will see who he truly is underneath and he has many loveable traits to appreciate.

you may not see the “soft” side of him very often because he hides it, but it’s there!! one thing i noticed that really stood out to me was that when i gave food to an orphan in act 3 and he approved. back when you first met him, he probably would’ve done the opposite or had no reaction at all. i also saw a clip of someone trying to romance karlach and astarion and he literally told tav to choose karlach over him because he can see that karlach loves her. he said normally an arrangement would work for him but after everything karlach has been through, he doesn’t want to get in the way or see her hurt. letting tav go is also hard for him as well but he still thought about someone else. he could’ve whined or been possessive or jealous but he didn’t do that at all. where are all those people who reduce astarion to “the guy that flirts and sleeps with everyone” now? seriously. that’s not what he does, and when he was forced into it by cazador, he was trying to survive, he didn’t do it for his own pleasure. it’s not a “hot” personality trait of his, it’s literally trauma. and because he did it so much, he got used to it, and that resulted in him disassociating and feeling empty.

apparently if you ask him to join you and sleep with the drows at the brothel (something i will never make him do in my playthroughs), he only says yes because he struggles to say no. but he disassociates. and if you’re in a high approval relationship with him and he loves you, he will feel safe enough to express his feelings and say he’s not comfortable. this happens before you fight cazador. i’m not sure if he gives the same response after, but either way, if he joins in, he will always disassociate and it’s not something he wants to do despite what he may say.

that being said, it’s obviously still okay to appreciate his beauty and attractiveness, because he is very beautiful. he appreciates it and even likes being called beautiful. calling him “hot” and “sexy” isn’t a bad thing either, we know he can be and i'm sure he knows it too! it’s just annoying when people act like that’s ALL he is and they don’t even mention anything else about his character. the love scenes are beautifully done too (i personally prefer the second one after you’ve stopped him from doing the ritual, because that’s the one where he decided he truly wanted it and felt safe and comfortable because he genuinely loves you), and i actually would’ve been fine if they didn’t have any scenes like that at all because it’s totally understandable and valid if he didn’t feel comfortable, but i just hope that people don’t take things too far and over-sexualise him just because of how he appeared to be in the first half of the game and the way he’s often marketed on social media. and yes i know he’s fictional and nothing on the internet is going to hurt his feelings!!!! it’s more about the fact that he canonically has sexual trauma and many people still say really disturbing stuff even AFTER they find out about that, and it just makes me uncomfortable to think that people are okay with treating someone like a sexual object especially when they've said they're traumatised and it makes them uncomfortable. idk if this makes sense 😭

but yeah he doesn't want to flirt and sleep with everyone as i've seen people claim. and if in an alternate universe he did, and he did it on his OWN terms, and the other people he had relationships with enjoyed it too, then good for them! absolutely nothing wrong with that if there's consent, respect and honesty. however, that's not the case with what happened with astarion, because 1. he was forced into using his body WHEN HE DID NOT WANT TO and 2. he misled people and lured them to a miserable fate. it's so horrible and devastating for everyone involved. sex was never something fun for him, and it certainly isn't a "personality trait" of his. it was a survival tactic. he was forced to. he didn’t want to.

obviously when he becomes more comfortable, then it's totally understandable to get excited when he flirts and shows physical affection. he can be so charming, funny, sweet and romantic and i love that. it’s so beautiful to see him heal, genuinely find comfort in someone for the first time and experience intimacy that he feels ready and comfortable for. he deserves to love and be loved on his own terms instead of being forced. but again, he is so much more than the guy we were introduced to at the beginning. the internet just sees one thing and sticks with it but i really hope people start to actually appreciate him for who he is and the complexity of his character.