"hes canonically into women" no hes literally not. Like this has never once been fucking said.
"He has that model on his phone" Yeah when he was 16 yrs old.
Yall take this ONE SINGULAR PIECE of evidence as canon for his sexuality, but then. Refute the literal MOUNTAIN of evidence about his relationship with Geto. And then try to backtrack, cry about it and claim IM the one without an intelligent argument.
Why the fuck would I waste the energy to have an intelligent debate with someone who cannot comprehend me?
24 notes
·
View notes
Cure Wounds
Pairing: Shadowheart/Female OC
Rating: Teen
Word Count: ~800
[under the cut but also on AO3]
Summary:
Cure Wounds (5e):
A beautiful woman you touch regains - uh. No, that’s not...uh, hang on…
A creature you touch regains a number of hit points equal to 1d8 + your spellcasting ability modifier.
____________
“Where does it hurt?” Shadowheart asked.
“Everywhere!” Evie insisted, her pout even fuller than usual because of her split lower lip. “That Loviatar freak nearly killed me.”
“He barely touched you. You would know if he was trying to kill you.”
Evie rolled her eyes. It was her default response to most things Shadowheart said to her.
“Sorry, I forgot you Sharrans walk around all day whipping each other like you’re at the worst sex party in Faerûn.”
“Loviatar is the goddess of pain,” Shadowheart reminded her. “And you should be thankful to be touched by her divinity. People give up much more for much less than the blessing you received.”
“Well, I feel like I was touched by a boulder,” Evie said tartly. “So excuse me if I’m not overly grateful.”
Shadowheart sighed angrily. It was her default response to most things Evie said to her.
“If you sit down and stop talking, maybe I can find it in my heart to heal you.”
“Gods, finally,” Evie said, rubbing at a spot against her side.
They sat facing each other on two of the crates that seemed to be stuffed into every corner of this old Selûnite temple. Shadowheart didn’t want to think too much about what the goblins might be transporting in such large quantities.
She removed her gloves and placed one hand on the side of Evie’s neck and the other on her collar, just above her heart. The steady thump of Evie’s heartbeat was clear in every place their skin touched.
“You could thank me, you know,” Shadowheart said.
“Thank you for doing your job?” Evie muttered darkly and closed her eyes.
In a flash of anger, Shadowheart considered casting a necrotic spell instead but decided she didn’t want to have to explain it to Lae’zel and Karlach when she found them. Lae’zel thought she was enough of a danger already. Better to wait until Evie’s attitude had an audience anyway so no one would judge her.
The blessing of her goddess and a bit of Shadowheart’s own life force flowed through her hands in a wave of healing energy. For a brief moment, Shadowheart could feel the magic inside of her tethering itself to Evie’s, encouraging her body back to full health, soothing all of the tender aches and bruises.
Evie sighed with relief and Shadowheart felt the exhale under her hand and against her own lips. She didn’t quite recall leaning in so much, close enough that she could watch the cut on Evie’s lip seal itself shut and count each dark eyelash fanned out against her cheek.
They were still close enough to breathe each other in when Evie’s eyes fluttered open and Shadowheart felt like a wide, warm hand had placed itself lovingly around her throat. Evie’s eyes were a peculiar elven gold shade, a color typically only found in the most pure amber gemstones. She brazenly let those eyes drift down to Shadowheart’s mouth and took her time lifting them back up to connect their gazes.
Shadowheart couldn’t even blink.
Evie tilted her head into Shadowheart’s touch and smiled mischievously. Did she know?
“Thank you, Shadowheart,” she said, voice like warm honey. Just like the color of her eyes.
“Ah!” Shadowheart cried out and cradled her hand to her chest as a lick of pain shot through it, traveling straight up to her elbow this time.
“Oh,” Evie said softly, reaching for her. When Evie leaned forward, her legs came together and pressed against both sides of Shadowheart’s knee.
“What -” the words drifted from Shadowheart’s head as Evie coaxed her injured hand away and pressed it firmly between both of hers. The wound throbbed in a discordant harmony with Evie’s pulse.
“I’m sorry I’m not as good at healing as you are. Unless -”
She lifted Shadowheart’s hand nearer to her face, the implication clear.
I could kiss it better.
Shadowheart yanked her hand away, breathless as the tension snapped like a frayed rope. Evie blinked and then tossed her golden head back to laugh.
As Evie smiled, Shadowheart remembered why she couldn’t stand her. Everything was a joke to her. Even knee deep in a goblin’s den she was wasting time goofing off and batting her eyelashes.
She always found time to complain, and laugh, and go on and on about the comfortable life she would return to when this was all over. Evie wasn’t meant for a life like this, a hard one on the road. She would be eaten alive before they reached Baldur’s Gate and Shadowheart wouldn’t miss her.
“Come on,” Evie playfully slapped Shadowheart’s thigh as she stood. “Let’s go catch up with the others.”
Shadowheart followed a few steps behind Evie so the other woman couldn’t easily engage her in conversation. Instead she focused on scanning the area for danger and massaging the ache from her palm. She blamed the heaviness inside of her rib cage on the wound’s lingering effects.
21 notes
·
View notes