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starry-bi-sky · 19 days

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Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well:

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents.

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill.

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.)

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one.

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself.

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.)

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.)

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe.

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal.

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking.

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter.

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind.

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous.

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own.

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t.

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward.

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”)

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell.

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his.

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it.

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now.

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own.

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother.

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten.

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands.

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely.

It is a fast dream.

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods.

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him.

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal.

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train.

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.)

—---

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again.

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person.

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.)

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird.

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is.

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off.

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom.

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.)

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

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

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #amnesiac danyal al ghul au #songs in order of the album: the hartebeest / harpy hare / and the hound / neath the grove is a heart #musician danny has my heart and soul #yes this danyal IS an alternative danny from the other au. an au where things were a little better :) but still sucks #implied good mom talia al ghul #danyal is a momma's boy send tweet #dpxdc ficlet #dpxdc prompts #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic #danyal is sTILL five years older than damian in this au #no beta no edits we die like danny fenton #poc danny fentons #i didnt know where to end this :(( i was gonna go on but i blanked. i thought about going into his relationships with his rogues and so on.#but that felt too much like trying to just increase the word count rather than actually writing?? if that makes sense #ugh im gonna have forgotten to include things and im gonna be kicking myself later #morally ambiguous danny whoo! we love to see it #since this was just for fun it doesnt really go into it all that much other than like. it happens. and that danny realizes he's dangerous #phantom in a hazmat suit? nah phantom looking like an assassin >:].#danyal al ghul with damian and his mom: 🥰🌸✨#danyal al ghul with everyone else: 👹🔪#am i heavily implying that clockwork had smth to do with Danyal’s amnesia and appearance by the cabin? 👀 maybe #not enough danyal al ghul aus where him being an assassin actually. has some kind of affect on him

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headspace-hotel · 2 years

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The day before yesterday I got to try a ripe pawpaw for the first time.

Someone else was supposed to come in at the center, but I was in the mood to be alone, so I fucked off into the woods at the earliest available opportunity, looking to collect more hickory nuts.

I hiked about two miles down the trail, seeking to find a little-used path as far from the center as I could reasonably make it. I was five or ten minutes down a fork in the path heading down a valley when I unexpectedly smelled something familiar: the scent of ripe pawpaws. I only knew that scent from having come upon a rotten one several days back on the trail.

I had seen pawpaw trees on the way up, but I looked around and saw nothing. I indulged a beast-like impulse: I sniffed. I turned until I was facing the direction of the scent and moved towards it. And I saw, about 50 feet away down the hillside below...a pawpaw grove

Some interesting facts about pawpaws:

The pawpaw is the largest fruit native to North America, known for its "tropical" flavor. Despite being reputed to be delicious, it is not found in grocery stores due to the fruits being far too delicate to ship without spoiling. A few people farm them, but otherwise the only way to get one is to come upon one growing wild, which is rare, because the opossums love them.

Pawpaw trees are hard to grow and take 10-15 years to produce fruit, but you can see wild ones in mature and well managed woods of Kentucky. They are small, barely trees, only about 15-20 feet tall, with trunks only a bit bigger around than a circle you can make with your index finger and thumb. They almost always grow in clonal colonies, groups of many trees that are all clones of each other due to being propagated from the roots of existing trees. They are also strictly understory trees, growing in the shade of much larger trees.

Now, an interesting fact about Eastern Kentucky: At the fringe of Appalachia, and even into parts of the Outer Bluegrass, the terrain frequently turns into very steep rolling hills.

It's hard to notice if you are in more cultivated areas that have been leveled out more, but in wilder parts you can seldom just casually walk in a straight line through the woods. Unless you are following the contour of the hills, you are either sliding and gripping saplings to slow your descent or you are climbing on all fours.

Such was the hill below me, descending at roughly a fifty-degree angle into the pawpaw grove.

I was going to get me some fucking pawpaws.

I climb down the hill by a combination of scooting, sliding, and scrabbling. After a few minutes of struggle I am standing in the pawpaw grove, alone, scanning the branches with my eyes.

The ground is littered everywhere with pawpaws, some very rotten. I see only two or three fruits remaining in the trees, and I walk around giving each tree a good shake, thinking to myself about how this is certainly an experience shared by millions of years' worth of primate ancestors before me.

After nearly ten minutes of (literally) fruitless tree-shaking, I start to eye the fallen pawpaws on the ground around me.

Some of them are perfectly fine-looking. The skin hasn't even been broken into. I pick one up.

It is very soft, but not squishy like something rotten. It is about as long as my index finger (my hands are small) and oblong. Its smooth skin is pale green and spotted with brown like a very ripe banana. I tear the skin back and give the creamy orange insides a test lick.

Friends.

It was transcendent.

Imagine the most perfect ripe mango, but with a flavor that is more banana-like, mellow and creamy and mild instead of tangy. The texture is perfectly smooth and soft unlike any other fruit. You can lick it and it will just melt in your mouth.

I am autistic and a very picky eater due to the difficult textures of many foods, and this fruit has the perfect texture. Mangos are already one of my favorite foods and this is somehow even better. I remember, deliriously, that farmers are seeking to improve pawpaws for possible commercial production, and it seems like the height of foolishness there in the pawpaw grove. There is no possible way wild pawpaws could be improved. All of creation is tainted by the Fall of Man, except for fucking pawpaws, because they are beyond the earthly tier of fruits.

I lick it like a dog going crazy on a Kong full of peanut butter until it falls apart in my hands and start scanning the ground for another.

They are all perfectly ripe and mostly untouched by bugs or creatures. I start just squishing them in my hands and licking the creamy insides. I am just planting my face in these fruits like some kind of animal. My face and hands are covered in pawpaw squish.

I go through like ten of them before returning to my senses. I've been thoughtlessly wiping my hands on my pants, and they are now more soiled than the clothes of the messiest toddler. I feel primal and connected to my ancestors. I have truly earned my Primate Card.

My mom said in the car that I smelled very strongly of something (pawpaws) so it's safe to say that literally every person I passed on the way back down the trail got a good whiff too, and likely connected it to the Pawpaw Squish that was basically all over me.

Regrets: None

#nature #fruits #pawpaw

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autistichalsin · 5 months

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If you're curious, this is what Halsin's letter says in the epilogue if you fail to break the Shadow Curse:

My friend, I was truly heartened to learn of your success in the fight against the Absolute- the whole of the Sword Coast and beyond owes you a debt that can never be repaid. I dearly wish I could have joined in your moment of celebration, but the Shadow Curse remains, and so my vigil must continue. Perhaps I shall yet discover a way to restore light to this place, but until then, the memories of my time traveling with you shall sustain me through all manner of hardships. If the Oak Father is kind, one day I shall feel the warmth of the sun and know the joys of your company once again. Yours until the end, Halsin

So... there is a LOT going on here. A lot. One, obviously, the heartbreak of Halsin resigning himself this way. "If the Oak Father is kind," he'll feel the warmth of the sun again?

The way he sees the player's company as something he longs for just as much as the sun. While confining himself to darkness and despair, what he longs for most- even more than nature itself- is sunlight and the player.

Which brings me to... you can feel the pining here. This letter was what finally cemented it for me: Halsin is, canonically, in all "good runs", in love with the player. Not "holds a lot of affection for the player that may or may not become romantic" like the others. This was what finally made me decide, beyond a doubt, he is ALWAYS in love with the player so long as they don't raid the Grove. This is just too much pining, too heavy of a romantic coding, too much he sees in the player, to be anything else.

He puts the player on par with sunlight. The thing he uses as a metaphor time and time again to explain as a basic need, something no life can live without. Something whose absence chokes the nature he loves so much into nothing. A need. That's what he considers the player.

And that's not even getting to "yours until the end," which is so obvious, I think it speaks for itself. With all the "I'm glad to be had"s and the "I am your servant, my love"s, Halsin is someone who- despite loving to be "unbound in nature"- considers a form of "being had" to be something of a love language. And here, knowing he will very possibly never see the player again unless a miracle happens or the player goes on a borderline suicide mission just to visit him, he still calls himself "yours". Even when he devotes himself to the land he couldn't heal, he still sees his heart as belonging with you, first and foremost.

And that's the happier explanation. The sadder explanation is that he's so tormented by the shadows and everything else that he's making up a fantasy in his head, of the player being his tragic, could-have-been love, just to cope. Just to convince himself there's something, someone, waiting for him should the curse ever be broken, so that he can imagine better is waiting for him, to give himself enough strength to endure the shadows for however long it takes, because the alternative is surrendering. And he can't let himself do that as long as he's needed. So, as he has done before, like when he convinced himself he liked being a sex slave to survive being a prisoner in the Underdark, he indulges in fantasy to survive- but instead of enslavement, it's solitary confinement.

Both are HEARTBREAKING options, in a scenario that was already beyond heartbreaking just before the epilogue.

#halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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invinciblerodent · 9 days

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It's really interesting to me how apparently, if you flirt with Halsin at the party and don't then, like... dismiss it the next morning or tell him to forget it (my boy is, uh. not shy. about what he wants), his camp comments seem to change? Like I've asked how he's faring like five times now, in the Underdark and the Mountain Pass, and each time he's just said "With such stimulating company? Never better.", which is... different. I don't remember hearing that quite like that before, and I think I'm missing a line there.

I think usually, he'd have a short comment about how the Grove was too comfortable, how he was feeling a bit distant from nature in such surroundings, and how he likes sleeping under the stars again. I think. But this game, I don't recall hearing anything like that- asking how he's doing outside of the plot conversation, I don't really recall anything other than that easy, flirty compliment and reassurance.

I could be wrong or misremembering previous runs, and this could be because of something else, but I... really kind of enjoy imagining that if he knows you're at least physically attracted to him (like he clearly is to you), even if you're very obviously pursuing- or already have a romantic relationship going on with someone else (and he doesn't yet know if you'd be alright with a more open arrangement), he just... doesn't want to trouble you.

If he can convince himself that there is no future to these budding, one-sided feelings, he can be a bit more open and friendly- but if there's no denying the heat in your eyes and the concern in your voice, he... can't help but want to impress you. If he can't convince himself that there's nothing there to it, he just... can't help puffing out his chest just a tiny bit. Can't help wanting to come off as an approachable, gracious, warm presence, and not share too much about things he might think of as his personal weaknesses and insecurities; his less than perfectly cordial, happy thoughts.

Like he's... denying himself the idea of a relationship with you and feels that he must focus on the Curse, sure, but also can't bring himself not to at least try and present himself in the "best" light he can.

I really like this kind of yearning. Yearning is good. Make that man yearn. Make him earn his PhD in yearnology.

#squirrel plays bg3 #halsin #halsin silverbough #like he's anything BUT stupid; of course he can tell that there is Something #of course he knows that the attraction IS mutual- but he also “knows” that it's dead on arrival #hhhhhh something something “you learn not to hope for more. you'd be foolish to”#i wonder if david gaider and ramon tikaram know that line has its own little pedestal in my head #it lives there like a little worm and occasionally nibbles on my amygdala #oc: petyr wildbrook

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licorice-tea · 3 months

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The Bane of My Existence

Pairing:Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: some spoilers for Sabaody arc (nothing major), enemies to lovers! strawhat reader, reader and law are both stubborn and argumentative smh, reader is more optimistic though, law is awkward and not great at understanding his own feelings <3

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: part 1/2 for a little enemies to lovers fic! one of my favorite tropes but I almost never write about it... also I've been rewatching bridgerton and was very inspired by the relationship between Kate and Anthony, which is where the title comes from too! (can you guess what part 2 will be called?) anyway, enjoy and lmk your thoughts! :)

Part 2

Sabaody Archipelago is easily one of the coolest places you’ve visited so far. Not that Alabasta, Skypiea, Water 7, Thriller Bark weren’t cool too… but you’re a people person! And to get to see such a diverse mix of groups from all over the world converging here, on one island Archipelago, brings a genuine smile to your face. It truly does remind you of a theme park: from the attractions to the oversized trees and bubbles.

In fact, you’re so caught up in all the splendors of the carnival-esque grove that you don’t realize you’re being watched. Or, followed, rather.

The Heart Pirates, yet another crew from some vague corner of the world, have been tracking you for the better part of an hour now. Except, they’re only following their captain, who happens to be following you.

Hes not entirely discreet about it though, because at one point Bepo asks, “Um… Captain, why are we following them?”

Shachi responds unprompted, “Yeah, I’ve never seen their bounty poster so… what’s up?”

Law scowls, “I’m not following anyone.”

Though he is low-key following you, Law couldn’t give a good reason as to why. You walked past him and his crew on your way to meet up with the rest of your crew- the Strawhat Pirates- and he’d just sort of trailed after you once you’d gotten a safe distance ahead.

“Really? Because every time they stop for directions, we slow down. And we’ve turned at all the same spots, too… So it really does seem like we’re follo-“

“I am NOT following them.” He lies through (literally) gritted teeth.

Now, Trafalgar Law is in now way shape or form a believer in love at first sight. He’s never been in love period… but the feeling he gets from seeing you is something new and foreign. Like, he really wants to talk to you… he just doesn’t know what for. Law is still trying his best to come up with reasons to stop you and ask for your name when you overhear the brief argument between him and his friends.

With a quick glance over your shoulder, you spot a group of at least 10 on your trail. They’re in the middle of conversation, so they don’t notice you taking notice of them.

Your first instinct is to look around for your crew; but of course, they’re scattered across the groves of Sabaody Archipelago by now - as are you. “Sigh. I might just have to handle this in my own.” But, wait- who said they wanted to fight you? Maybe you should just approach them first, wouldn’t that give you the upper hand in some way? (It wouldn’t, but you can’t think of anything better than to try and charm your way out of a possible jumping with your friendliness and perfect smile.) So, you roll back your shoulders and take a breath before strolling back over the grass to your pursuers.

“Why would I be following some rand-“

“Because you have a crush on them!”

“Oh they’re cute, Captain, you should ask them to join!”

“Gasp! Yeah, then you can get to know-“

They all go silent (save for some quiet gasps) as you step toward the semi circle they’ve formed around one man- the only one not wearing a white uniform, who they call “Captain.” You tap him on the shoulder and he whips his head around.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me?”

The man just stares at you for a moment with a frown. You fear that you might’ve been wrong about his intentions, until he blinks and mumbles, “Uh… Sure.”

Your smile returns- of course you weren’t wrong! Plus, he’s kind of hot, but you’d catalog that thought and come back to it on some lonely night in the future. “Great! I’m looking for grove 41, it’s where some of my friends are.”

You’d learned back in Water 7 that sometimes, it was best not to disclose who exactly you’re traveling with, nor the location of your ship. (At least, not when you’re infamous pirates.)

“Grove 41? I’m headed there too.”

The polar bear wearing who is also wearing a white uniform clears his throat.

“I thought we were heading to Grove 1, Captain?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to get in y’all’s way then-“

“Nah, I think Captain would love to show you the way.”

“Shachi!” The captain sneers. “We’ll meet back up at Grove 1 after I show them the way." Then, he looks you up and down. It's quick and analytical rather than flirtatious or intimidating. "Don’t cause me any trouble.”

You smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m y/n, by the way.”

“Trafalgar Law, and this is my crew, the Heart Pirates.” He gestures around the semi circle, then turns to face them, “You guys go take a break or something. I’ll be back shortly.”

“But Captain, we want to go with you!”

One of the men with red hair- Shachi, you’re pretty sure, elbows the polar bear.

“Hey!…” He looks down at Shachi then gasps like he suddenly had a revelation; “Ohhh. Sorry Captain, we’ll see you later!”

Law rolls his eyes. “See you soon.”

There's something about his dark hair and grey eyes that charms you, right off the bat. Or maybe it's his relaxed, confident demeanor. Possibly even his idiosyncratic style of clothing, and how he (and all of his crew) wore the same logo; so very organized and professional. But no matter the exact reason as to why, you find yourself quite happy to be in his company.

Alas, he’s not a very talkative man, so you make up most of the conversation with questions and your own introductory information. “-and that’s how I got here, to Sabaody!”

“Uh huh. And who did you say your crew was again?”

“I, ahem, I don’t travel with a crew.”

“Right.” He laughs dryly.

“What is it?”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“I- I’m not lying!”

“Look, you don’t have to tell me what crew you’re a part of,” Law explains, “but don’t lie and say you’re not a pirate at all.”

“Well… it’s generally not a good idea to tell strangers that you’re a pirate. Not even nice ones, like you."

Ignoring the butterflies in his stomach that unexpectedly appear when you call him nice, Law's burning curiosity is fed by your roundabout half-answer. “Ah, so you are one? What’s your bounty?”

“That’s not really any of your business.” Though you believe his intentions to be purely based in curiosity, you're second guessing allowing this man to lead you away on an island grove that you have never visited, nor know anything about. Still, your crew is nowhere in sight or hearing range, which worries you given just how loud they usually are.

“I’m paying you a favor by leaving my crew to escort you to where I’m assuming your ship is located- it’s the least you could do.” Law’s tone is more prickly than before.

“Well, I don’t need an escort, and you’ve already walked me halfway there and pointed me in the right direction.”

“Fine- then I’ll leave.”

His sudden change in mood from what you interpreted as shy to borderline aggressive throws you off. And so, having a similar moody temperament and stubbornness (though you’d never admit it after seeing it so clearly in him), you return the sentiment. “Fine by me.”

You continue walking forward while Law turns back, until he calls over his shoulder. “And by the way; you’ll need to find your way through the lawless zone up ahead if you want to get to Grove 41.” If condescending was a person, it would be him. You’re sure of it. “That, or I could’ve shown you a much safer shortcut.”

You pause, turn to face him, roll your eyes, and continue walking.

“What, you’re still not going to ask for my help?”

“Don’t need it!” Which, you really don’t. You’re plenty strong, but your bounty is small enough to not be worried. “I’m not scared of a law-less zone, if anything I think I’d welcome it.”

Your mocking words hurt his ego in a way he hasn't felt in years, taking him down several pegs.

You don't even stick around long enough to listen to him rebuke everything about you, from your high and mighty tone to your vain attempts at lying, ending his one sided argument with a very classy middle finger your way. So, Law grumbles all the way back to Grove 1 to find his crew, and hopes to never see you again. Meanwhile, you find your way to the other Strawhats. Your adventure with them continues, and you don’t have much time to think of your earlier encounter with a handsome pirate and possible-friend turned enemy (if you could even call him that.)

Law doesn't know if his ego (or wildly beating heart) could take another second in your presence- it just might burst if it had to endure any more of your witty comments or sly looks. It would, however, be an interesting theory to test further, should you ever meet again.

The prospect is both horrifying and thrilling to him at the same time.

#fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #x reader #law x reader #law x you #law fluff #straw hat pirates #trafalgar law #law

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professional-yapper · 3 months

Text

You

Lo'ak x Tayrangi! Reader

Warnings: mistaken identity kind of, teens having fun, arranged marriage, fighting/arguments, how they meet is very 101 Dalmatians and i love it, they're both oblivious asf

Neytiri sent Lo'ak to go collect fruits from the grove near the other end of the Omaticaya territory. Normally he'd complain about extra chores, but not today. It was one of the better tasks to be landed with, anyway, even if it would consume his whole day.

But then Jake said Lo'ak could take his ikran, and that would cut the journey in half at least. Maybe more, since Lo'ak, like every other teenager, was all too fond of letting his ikran set the pace. Which, more often than not, simply meant break-neck speed, especially since Lo'ak's ikran was as young as himself in ikran years, according to Neytiri, and just as headstrong.

Lo'ak's ikran, named Spitfire by Jake in one of his rare moments of fatherly affection, was raring to go, practically launching himself into the air the second Lo'ak settled on his back and made the bond.

Kiri had, at one point, taken to calling the ikran Spitty, resulting in Lo'ak pitching a fit and pulling her hair, which then meant days of not speaking to each other. Lo'ak still got sulky every time he remembered the undignified name.

Lo'ak whooped, punching his fist in the air, gripping tightly with his thighs and trusting Spitfire not to let him fall, or at least to catch him if he did. The wind whistled past him, snatching at his braids, whipping a brisk flush into his face.

It was a good day. The sun was already high in the sky, warm on his back despite the wind. The air was heady with the scent of flowers coaxed into bloom by the warm weather, even at this height.

Spitfire, after a little urging from Lo'ak, evened out, gliding smoothly through the sky, occasionally letting out a screech of contentment. Lo'ak settled back, keeping one hand on the handle and feeling for the pouch strapped across his hips Neytiri had given to him to store the fruits in, making sure it was strapped on securely.

It wouldn't take him long to gather enough fruits to satisfy Neytiri. Maybe a few hours.

Maybe more if he decided to take a nap. Lo'ak loved naps, especially deep in the forest amidst the undergrowth, where he could burrow himself into the sun-warm grass and no one would bother him for hours. He probably liked them so much because they restored all the energy he burned living up to Jake's expectations. Very high expectations.

Yeah, he could use a nap. It was just that kind of day.

And it would give him time to think, too. About what his parents had told him a few days ago. About how, since Neteyam had mated with the youngest child of the Olangi olo'eyktan, Lo'ak would do the same, but with the only child of the Tayrangi olo'eykte.

It would benefit the Omaticaya, Neytiri had soothed him, smoothing a hand over his braids. These kinds of unions would prevent any conflict and better the relationships with other tribes. Jake, on the other hand, had told him there was no wriggling out of it, and he'd be mating with this stranger before the end of the year whether he liked it or not.

Comforting, right?

Neteyam had tried to comfort him over it. It was easy for Neteyam. He and his mate were arranged too, but they were crazy about each other, and Neteyam had always wanted to settle down and have a mate of his own and a family anyway. It was why he'd bent so easily to their parents' decision.

And it was easy for Kiri too. She was their dad's favourite, his babygirl. She wouldn't get married off to Aonung or some other guy if she didn't want to. Lucky shit.

Tuk was... well, she didn't have to worry about marriage for a good while yet.

But Lo'ak did. He didn't care about maintaining good relationships with other tribes, or having a mate of his own and settling down. He didn't care about any of that shit. He just wanted his freedom, and the freedom to choose who he mated with. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently so.

Spitfire shrieked, and a ripple of confusion and panic hit Lo'ak through the bond, right as something large and colourful shot past them like a flash of lightning.

Lo'ak caught a glimpse of a face with an equally panicked expression, then swore as Spitfire reared and shrieked again. Though this time, instead of confusion in the bond, all Lo'ak felt was a sudden burst of childish joy, right before Spitfire dived after the other ikran.

Lo'ak yelled in exhilaration as both ikrans went into a nosedive, and crouched low over Spitfire's back, knuckles going white as he tightened his grip. It was dangerous, and if his parents found out, he'd never hear the end of it, but they weren't here now and Lo'ak found this was too much fun for him to care.

He whooped, and heard an answering cry from the rider of the other ikran below, you, which made something in his heart twist with further excitement.

Spitfire was uncontrollable with the excitement of having what was probably another young ikran to play with, and Lo'ak let him have his head, content to just go along for the ride.

The other ikran straightened out before it hit the canopy, and Spitfire followed, flying alongside, steadying himself with a few flaps.

"Sorry," you called, face flushed and apologetic, but then began laughing breathlessly. "Great Mother, I am so sorry! Kikorangi- my ikran- saw you down below and he just took off-"

"It's okay," Lo'ak shouted back, smiling uncontrollably at you. You were probably the most attractive person he'd ever seen, so one couldn't exactly blame him for being so quick to forgive you for the scare. "But I've never seen you before. You're not Omaticaya, are you?"

He didn't have to ask. He knew you weren't. You looked like a young warrior from another tribe, like him. Your skin was covered in a pearly white paint, in swirling patterns. It was mesmerising.

"What?" you called, then raised your eyes skyward, laughing again. "I can't hear you. Wait there."

Lo'ak blinked, confused, as you steered your ikran up and over his head, flying along above him. He tilted his head back, looking up, trying to see what you were doing, only to nearly smack heads with you. You were performing some risky manoeuvre, sliding around to the underbelly of your ikran, gripping on with only your thighs, swinging upside down and smiling at Lo'ak, eyes bright and beautiful, nose nearly brushing against his.

You chuckled at his stunned expression, then righted yourself and leapt down onto Spitfire, breaking the bond with your own ikran. Spitfire jerked at the foreign addition to his cargo, and tilted his head, shooting you a baleful look.

Lo'ak stiffened as you seated yourself behind him, one arm loosely around his stomach, making his abs tense beneath your warm skin, your thighs pressing against his own. "Sorry, what were you saying?" you asked airily, mouth next to his twitching ear, like this wasn't the most intimate position he'd ever been in.

Words failed him. He could only hold very still, in the hopes you wouldn't become uncomfortable and move away. He liked having you there, the weight of your body against his back comforting.

But you shifted back, away from him, laughing again, and the sound rang through his mind, etching itself into the walls of his skull. "Sorry," you apologised for a third time. "I didn't mean to freak you out."

"It's okay," Lo'ak replied almost robotically, words feeling clumsy and foreign on his tongue. Great Mother, get it together! he told himself firmly. There's a beautiful warrior cuddling up to you, wanting to talk and all you can say is it's okay?!

He forced himself to relax, turning his head and smiling crookedly at you over his shoulder.

Your face was like the sun. You seemed to be lit with a golden, gleaming warmth from the inside out, and it honestly made him a little dizzy.

"I was just asking what tribe you're from," he repeated.

"Tayrangi," you answered blithely. "You must be Omaticaya, I guess."

Lo'ak nodded, noting that you were from the same tribe as his future mate. He didn't want to bring that up, though, figuring if he was to have any chance with you he shouldn't bring up his imminent union.

Even though he wouldn't be able to pursue you because of said union... What the tribes didn't know couldn't hurt them, right?

"That's sick," Lo'ak said, smiling that same lopsided smile at you. "Never met any from the Tayrangi before."

"Never met an Omaticaya before either," you grinned back, leaning back on your hands.

"Am I living up to your expectations?" he teased, gathering all his courage to do so, ears drooping slightly in apprehension of your response.

"Who said I had any expectations?" you teased back, nudging the back of his thigh with your knee, sending hot flames of want up his spine.

Lo'ak rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide his delight at finding someone who could match him blow for verbal blow. "Oh, come on!" he scoffed. "You came all the way here, you must've thought about what we'd be like at some point!"

"Maybe I did," you agreed, and the glint in your eyes told him you were being purposefully elusive.

"Go on, then," he encouraged. "Am I everything you hoped?"

You pretended to think, finger pressing into your chin, eyes fixed on the clouds above. Then you smiled again. "Nope."

Lo'ak scoffed again, preparing to fire back some surely witty retort, before you inched forward again, leaning on his back, arm tightening around his middle again, pressing your lips to his ear decisively.

"You're better."

@frogletscribe

Woohoo done! Proud of this one tbh everyone enjoy x

#avatar #avatar x reader #atwow #avatar 2 #avatar fanfiction #neteyam #loak #neytiri #jake #jake sully #loak x reader #lo'ak x reader #loak fanfiction

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forgeofthenine · 3 months

Note

What if Tav and companions defeated the goblins, and Zevlor gets this renewed self-confidence because that’s such a victory for his people. And rather than being shy or insecure when Tav approaches him at the party, he is so sure of himself and moves with purpose rather than hesitation. He remembers what this feels like and doesn’t mind taking a little bit of charge.

I'm not gonna lie Anon, I'm not sure this is exactly what you asked for. Tbh I did struggle a little with getting something I liked, so I went for this mixed format and ended with something a little open ended. I do hope you enjoy this one despite the fact it took me a little longer to finish up!

Approaching a self-assured Zevlor after saving the grove

Zevlor almost doesn't remember what it's like to live without a constant stream of adrenaline going through his veins

It keeps him feeling alert and giddy, but at the same time his fingers feel ice cold

It's something he knows he has to mask

This was the feeling he got when a goblin army was at the groves doorstep, fighting beside you, his voice and body finally felt familiar again

It was the same as it always used to be, adrenaline and the sound of blood rushing in his ears, Zevlors body moved easily through the battle

Once it's time to have the party, to rest, you notice that the paladin seems different

His eyes roam over the group, fingers drumming against his unarmoured thigh

It's then that you decide to approach

Firelight bathes the tiefling, a near ominous glowing red figure that you can't keep your eyes off of. Barely anyone glancing your way as you leave the others company, suddenly being the hero of the hour isn't so important to them, and you find yourself at the camps edge. The swish, swish, swish of Zevlors tail is audible as it rolls over the gravel, a certain anticipation coming off him in waves.

You can feel a shiver running down your spine at the mere way he turns to look at you, suddenly the gentle man you knew looked truly like a seasoned fighter. It's too hard to even find words in the moment, waiting for him to speak instead. "Our hero here to see me?" He chuckles, good natured as ever. "Surely you have a better way to spend your night, my dear."

The fond petname dries your throat and the wry smile on his face draws you in. "Better than being with you? Hardly." You scoff, daring to step even closer. His smile grows ever so slightly wider as you shift, leaning towards him as the fading light bathes you both in amber. Looking into those glowing eyes, you already know you'll end the night in Zevlors bed, and you can see he's long since realised the same.

#bri answers #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #zevlor x tav #zevlor x you

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sfehvn · 6 months

Text

intruder part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Description: A year has since came and went following Astarion's ascension ritual. He is no longer himself, but then... Where is he? A/N: This part is a lot of lore-building so no actual Astarion appearances but I hope it's enjoyable all the same! Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 1,820 Characters: Characters: ascended!Astarion x Tav

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The forest of Emerald Grove manifests around you. Thick trees and rocky precipices grace your views, abruptly causing a wistful awareness to settle into your mind. The odd situation you were currently in aside, you never dreamed you would yearn to return to such a time. Memories flooded your head. Your very first encounter with the man who had so gracefully held a knife to your throat out of fear and turmoil. The very first time you had welcomed him with open arms and a profound desire between these very trees. Despite the rockiness your relationship had survived through at the time, you remember how heartbroken you felt when Astarion revealed his true motives of gaining security out of you through bedding you. At the leading edge, though, you recall his admission of falling for you.

“How-” You struggle to find the words as you turn to stare at the man who had approached you in the Elfsong Tavern, “What are you doing?”

Your query was disregarded as the man spoke, “You wish for your lover to be restored.” It was a matter-of-fact statement, the corners of his lips turning up into a smile. “Ah, but you have said lover.” The man pointed his words.

Alarm bells rang through your skull. You took a moment to survey your surroundings and breathe in the familiar fresh air, glancing at the shimmering moon. Were you actually here? Or was this all an illusion? You let your eyes falter back to the man whose name you still had no clue of. “How do you know this?” No good could come from this particular situation, you knew. “Why are we here?” Your intimidation ultimately failed, causing your voice to crack and waver.

“My apologies. I can take us somewhere more suited to your tastes. Where would you prefer?” His hand raised, and with a quick snap of his fingers, you are transported to the Last Light Inn. It is empty and void of life. “Or would you choose not to stray too far from home?” Another snap, and you’re back on the streets of Baldur’s Gate, the dead city a stark contrast from your walk to the tavern. “Where is comfortable for you, dear?”

You close your eyes tightly for a moment before reopening them. You knew better than to entertain this man; the last time you had made good with someone who miraculously appeared before you with offers of fixed problems, it had not worked out for you or Astarion. While eager for some sort of answer to your dire questions, for a fix of the situation at hand, the red flags rang. You had never told this man your problems, yet here he was, claiming it to be destiny bringing the two together to fix them. “I am not interested. Return me to the tavern at once.” It was a demand.

“As you wish.” His smile is sly as he brings his hand up once more, transporting you two back to your previous spots seated at the table in Elfsong. This time, not a soul resides in the tavern. You take note that the barkeep, Alan, was also gone.

“Where is everyone?” In bewilderment, you look back at the strange man.

“The apparitions are a bit much to maintain for long. Suppose if that makes you comfortable, though. It shall be done.” Another snap, and the small, jovial crowd is back once more. Alan is back behind the bar, shining glasses, a grin large enough to make you uneasy stretched onto his lips.

“What is this?” The defeat was thick in your cadence. You return your anguished glare to the man. You scanned him for a break in facade, but there was none. He just- well, he looked like any other man you may have come across. Looks could be deceiving; a lesson learned many times.

“You can provide me with something I want.” His response was quick, with no hesitation. “In turn, I will return your lover to you. As he was before.” Your brows furrowed in indignation. While your entire body screamed at you to take the deal, no questions asked, trepidation stopped you from responding too hungrily.

“I will be making no deals with devils. I’ve come to understand it could never end well for the one who is not the devil.” Despite this man seeming to be your only option with the watchful eye of Astarion on you at what feels like all times, you couldn’t risk making the situation any worse. Could it get much worse? Your subconscious nagged. “Besides, I would still like to know how you’ve found me.”

The man let out a howl of laughter, throwing his head back in amusement. “I am no devil, Tav.” He shifts forward, hands clasped before him and coming to rest on the table. “Though I can understand it may be hard to discern given our meeting. However, I did not have much opportunity for a natural one since you are under lock and key at all times.” You recall the trance-like state in which you left the palace and come to realize it must have been every bit a trance. “I am but a humble sorcerer. As for how I found you, well, it seems we share a common enemy. Though, I could feel your heartache dimensions away.” His head quirks, and it feels as if he is boring into your very soul.

Unprompted, the man continues. “Your lover, Astarion, opened himself up to the very demons that reside in the hells during his ascension ritual. Now, stay with me because this is going to get complicated.” He glances around the room before snapping the apparitions away. You hadn’t even realized how disfigured the residents in the tavern had become. “I hope you don’t mind. As I said, the apparitions can be daunting.” He clears his throat.

“Are you insinuating a demon resides within Astarion’s body? Demons are physical beings.” You dig your mind for anything you may have heard about demonic possessions, but none come to mind. Sure, you’ve seen your fair share of ghost possessions among mortals, but this was not what was being implied. A demon could impose a sort of mind control, but the soul would still be active and aware. Not pushed deep into the darkness of its own body. The demon must also be present for such a thing to occur.

“Precisely. Demons are physical beings, but are you familiar with the apothecary swindlers that reside in the hells?” A slow shake of your head urges the sorcerer to continue. “This covenant has made enough gold to fill all of the pockets of Faerûn with their scheming. A truly unfounded market, I’ll give them that.” He chortles lightly before continuing, “Anyhow, they slay these demons, extract, and capture their very essence to be repurposed as a medicine for all ailments. Most folks are smart enough to steer clear, but you will always have your bold noblemen and ladies who strive for the power and fame that these apothecaries promise.”

“So Astarion-” You start but are cut off.

“Your lover did not seek these services, no.” He states quickly. “This is where things get a bit tricky. These very regular people oftentimes do not end up with precisely what they’ve paid for. The essence of these demons seeks power, a vessel in which they can reign in a new physical form and physically rebuild themselves. The process is slow; it can take centuries for this transformation to occur. Most mortal bodies will not even make it to see this through, as the demon residing within them does not grant the vessel immortality.”

“But an ascended vampire…” You trail, the dots connecting in your mind.

“An ascension ritual such as the one Astarion partook is exactly the thing to send the dinner bells ringing to a demon’s essence.” The man confirms. “The most plausible explanation is one had been freed from its confinements and made its way into your lover’s body. After a few hundred years, his form will take on the one of the demon who controls his vessel- erm, body.” He corrected after your pointed glare was received.

“What exactly do you get out of this?” You ask quickly, the suspicion in your voice evident.

“While I would love to say I’m doing this solely to save your and your lover’s tortured souls, that would be a blatant lie.” There is the faintest pause in his words. “The demon Elralluun rules his body. In his prime, he was known for brutalizing hundreds of villages. Would kill men, women, and children all the same.” You sense a deep tinge of sorrow masked in the man’s words and decide you won’t pry further. “I’ve thought him dead until recently. I felt him. The heat of rage and hatred lit afire in my bones. One that left my being the second he was slain. I felt it all.”

You nod numbly in understanding. “How do we free Astarion?”

There’s silence as you watch the man find the words to say. “To destroy the vessel is to free the soul.”

“Absolutely not.” You snapped, heart sinking to your toes. You could never kill Astarion knowing he was still in there somewhere.

“Tav, think this over. He will be gone anyway once the transformation has taken hold. I understand this is a tough decision, but his sacrifice may even save him from total damnation. This is the only way. I do not have the power to defeat him. You do. You are a hero, through and through.” The man’s words struck your chest, causing you to gulp in a large, unneeded breath. Tears pooled in your eyes and you feverishly wiped at them, standing from your seat.

“Well, find another way.” Your voice was raised, eyes shooting daggers into the still-sitting man.

“There is no other way.” Each word was emphasized, with a look of empathy but seriousness on his features. “Think this through. I will find you again soon, and you can give me your answer then. You may come to see this to be the most merciful outcome for you and your companion.” He stands from his seated position, giving you one last look of sympathy before departing the Tavern.

Disoriented, you raise your head from the oak desk, acting as a pillow for your rest. You couldn’t discern if the encounter had happened in reality or not as you shifted your head to see the tower of books beside you, exactly where you had left them before making your exit from the manor. You were back in the library. A note scrawled in careful penmanship sat on the desk that had not been there before.

‘I will continue to search for an alternative. I will return in seven days time for an answer regardless. I trust you will make the right choice.

Leif’

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #ascended!astarion x tav #ascended!astarion x reader #ascended astarion #astarion #bg3 #x reader #x tav #tav

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yanderelovlies · 17 days

Text

Note: I know in my heart of hearts Halsin wouldn't be a Yandere, but like 😳😳

Warning: Slight NSFW and yandere tendencies

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character: Halsin

Pairing: Halsin x gn!reader

At camp, he would watch you interact with all the companions. He never said anything, but there were few he didn't like around you, afraid they would corrupt you. When you weren't in eyesight, he hoped thoughts of you would subside, but they never did. If anything, he thought of you more, especially when he is alobe in his tent at night stroking his cock to said thoughts of you.

When you had saved him from the goblins, helped the Grove, and helped him bring the shadow curse to an end. Halsin knew you were good. He would even go as far as to say you were too good for this world. The light and warmth you brought to the world was something deemed that needed to be protected at all costs. So he joined your cause, throwing himself in any danger to protect you. To make sure some absolute cultists or Gith didn't take you.

While traveling, he always sizes up who you're talking to for both intentions and weakness. He immediately steps in if he doesn't like where the conversation is going or the intentions of the person. He has to use all his strength not to butt in or lung when talking with Orin and Gortash. He loaths the emperor even more.

These protective and obsessive behaviors were new to Halsin. He always believed himself to be like his bear counterpart. Never mating for life, always roaming, and yet... When he sits at the campfire watching you play with the owlbear cub and the dog Scratch under the stars he can't help but want to keep you for himself.....away from anyone who wants to taint the pure goodness in you.

Eventually, his actions began to mirror his thoughts as he began to occupy all of your attention in and out of camp. He would even get the help of the Owl bear cub, scratch, and some local critters from wyrmscrossing and Baldur's Gate.

Shadowheart wants to share a bottle of wine with you? Not anymore, the Owl bear knocked it out of your hand, trying to get you to play with him, which he was successful with. Astarion wanting a little late night nibble from your beautiful neck? Not any more if scratch has something to say about it. Gale, trying to talk to you? Oh well, he was till a rat climbed up his trousers.

Anytime you tried to spend with any other companion was redirected most times in Halsin's direction. If not his, then Owl bear and Scratch. They are the only ones Halsin trusts. The other companions take notice but are unable to approach you to question or point out. They can barely get a word in during a fight.

Eventually, Halsin tells you his more domestic feelings. "You are all my heart wants. All it desires. Please tell me you feel the same." Anxiety rolls off of him as he waits for your response. What will he do if you reject him. He, of course, will respect your choice, but...He can't let you go....can he? The longer he waits, the longer his thoughts spiral down a dark path he was never treaded before.

When you accept his face lights with joy. His dark thoughts long forgotten. All he can think about is kissing you. So much so that he forgets to ask before pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. It was better than he ever imagined. He was becoming addicted.

Halsin had to pull away before he lost all control and devoured you on the spot. "It's makes me so happy to hear you feel the same my heart..." His large callous hand holds your soft face as he rests his forehead against yours. It was at this moment that he swore to Silvanus that after the defeat of the Absolute, he was going to take you away. Away from those who wish to take advantage of your kindness. Away from a world full of cruel beings. Away to were he can cherish and love you without fear.

You will be safe and tucked away like all of Silvanus's special gifts.

#yandere bg3 #yandere baldur's gate 3 #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate x reader #yandere halsin x reader #halsin #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #halsin silverbough #x reader

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sorcerous-caress · 6 months

Note

How do you think the party would react if Tav was a Fallen Aasimar? I sure it hinges on the God's aliment. What if it was a God they worship?

Reacting to a fallen aasimar Tav

[Bg3, fluff, nb!reader]

[Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach, Halsin, Astarion, Gale, Minthara, Laezel]

You used to serve a god they worship/worshipped. I took some liberties with the godless characters.

Shadowheart - Selune

Assuming it happens either after the game ends or in an alternative universe where Shadowheart never abandoned Selune. Then she'd be very conflicted.

What could you have possibly done to have the most gentle of goddesses stripping your wings? Moonlight melting your silvery feathers until they're nothing but abyssal black and ash.

Her lady is wise, therefore she will be very wary of you. Yet at the same time, she can't help but feel a sense of familiarity when she looks at you. It drives away her prejudice for a moment and lets her judge you for your action, no matter how blasphemous the act of questioning her goddess's judgment might be.

Wyll - Tyr

To fall from celeste is to become a fiend. How are you any better than the devils below in the hells?

If he was his younger self, he wouldn't have hesitated to deliver you to justice, and yet the horns on his own head weight heavy like a crown paid for in a lifetime of experience. He knows better than anyone that nothing is ever what it seems like.

This Wyll is wiser, more understanding and open. He's willing to extend the same courtesy to you that he wished someone would've done to him before.

Let him hear you out, friend. Tell him what befelled this fate upon you.

Karlach - Tymora

She is more confused about how you managed to anger the smiling lady herself. It takes a special kind of asshole to turn their back on good fortune and lady luck.

An aasimar at that too? A messenger of luck?

She's never been big on the whole religion thing, to be honest with you, yet the wamrth and good fortune her goddess extended to her is still one of the best gifts she has ever been given.

So what happened? How did this even happen?

She'd never be hostile towards you nor exlude you as long as you don't do anything sinister. She genuinely belives in sharing her good fortune with everyone no matter who.

Halsin - Silvanus

Oak father preserve him. To Halsin, seeing you brings as much joy to him as seeing the shadow curse spread.

His God's teachings aren't that hard to follow, just respect the natural order and preserve all living beings. He has been diligently upholding this code through his life and spreading the teachings back at the grove.

Yet, the oak father himself marked you as an endangerment to the very being of nature. To the ancient trees and sprouting spring flowers, you reprsent the slithering all-consuming wither and rot.

He is very uncomfortable around you, not just on his guard, but you can see that he would rather be anywhere else than near you. Yet, feels like he had to keep an eye on you just in case you burn down a forest or something behind his back.

Astarion - Corellon

Honestly, he doesn't even remember worshipping the old elf or anything. He just assumes it given his previous stature and ancestry.

Not that the self-proclaimed protector of all elves has ever given him a single second of his time since he became an undead. No matter how much he prayed, it seems that the blood running through his veins barely counted anymore when it wasn't his own blood to begin with.

Fuck him, along all the other gods who turned their back on him for 200 hundred years of pure shit. It's a good thing you fell, he tells you, at least now your powers are yours alone. What's a god if not just another master to get you to do their biddings?

He is interested in you, mostly in your powers, to be more precise.

But it also encourages you to seek your own path and never think of grovelling for forgiveness or your feathers back.

Gale - Mystra

He makes a lame ass joke about if that makes him your stepfather. Dad puns included.

Surprisingly, he doesn't make a big deal out of it, even if it was before he fully got over his ex.

He's a scholar first and a lover second. He is genuinely very interested in learning about you and aasimars. Meeting one in a lifetime is a miracle. They're so rare that they're barely documented even. So imagine meeting a fallen one? He is beyond intrigued by you and your nature.

Sure, your morality might come into question, but he will worry about that later. For now, he is more interested in inspecting your wings and asking borderline intrusive questions about how serving Mystra was like.

Evil alligned deities.

Aasimars don't have many rules about them in dnd, but for one, they are classified as celestial beings. So technically, they can't ever serve evil alligned gods. It's never officially stated, tho so it is up to interpretation.

Devils or fiends serve the evil deities instead, so i thought why not make the reason the aasmire fell is because they decided to serve the evil god for the character.

In the next headcanons, falling is considered a good thing. Whoever your previous good god was that you used to serve, you abandoned them and went to serve an evil deity instead which is why you fell.

Laezel - Vlaakith

A good choice, a wise choice even. Laezel might not be versed much in the gods pantheon but she is sure whoever your old deity was, they couldn't have compared to her queen.

You have her respect, the same respect she'd extend to a kitherak even. In her eyes, you're the embodiment of the red dragon and rider knight both in one. Your wings and shinning blade speak for themselves.

She is honoured, fascinated too. Yet her admiration is a double edged sword, for she will hold you to impossible standards and consider it meeting the bare minimum.

Minthara - Lolth

She almost pities you, willingly becoming another pawn in this endless chessboard of drow conflict. Another gem to decorate Lolth's whip with as she inflicts it on whoever she sees fit.

Either you're foolishly naive or a complete masochist to dedicate yourself to the spider queen. Either way, she will test you herself to see exactly what you're made of.

As someone who abandoned Lolth, she'd be wary of anyone who serves her goddess. Yet you haven't cut off her head yet, how strange?

Minthara doesn't hide her disdain for Lolth around you, both warning you of the cruel fate awaiting you no matter how much of a good pet you're to your goddess.

For the longer you stay loyal to Lolth, the more of an endangerment you become to Minthara herself.

Shadowheart - Shar

Another child of the darkness, another sibling of the night to guide her through this journey. Shadowheart thinks your meeting was fate, a reward from her dark lady.

Especially if you saved her from the ship, she'd see you as her hero, a shining black diamond amonst the rubble and mud.

Mirroring how Laezel would've acted in fact, their dangerous fickle admiration of you that you never asked for would force a magnifying glass over both your flaws while exaggerating your achievements.

She doesn't hide her Shar worship from you this time around. She is proud, especially by you by her side. She will be your shield and recovery as long as you be her sword and wings.

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tinietaehyun · 6 months

Text

Pretty Boy !¡

[Fae!Beomgyu x Researcher!Reader] [Mystic Trail Series] [One-shot]

Pairing: Fae!Beomgyu x Researcher!reader

Contains: profanity, suggestive/mature themes, thriller elements, mentions of injury, manipulation, asphyxiation.

Genres: Romance, fluff, fantasy, slight enemies to lovers-esque, dark fantasy.

Links: MYSTIC TRAIL || MASTERLIST

Summary: Stepping up the rocky terrain you grunt clearly unimpressed with how you weren’t alone. “Come on, won’t you tell me your name, pretty please?” Deadpanning, you scoff, “Surely you don’t think I’m that stupid?”

The ethereal man pouts innocently but you knew there was true mischief behind it. His eyes glimmer stepping forward, “What’s in a name? I’ll tell you mine. Consider it an honour to know my name.”

Glaring you mutter, “No thanks, I’ll pass. I’m here to study the elves anyway, not you.” His eyes narrow, “Sorry, what?” His sweet tone changes making you snort.

—————————•••••••••••••————————

“Fucking hell,” you grunt pushing through the thick foliage to a clearing. You were already exhausted and overworked. Theses, paper work, on-site work, preparation, just so much shit was piled onto you, just because you were the least experienced of the entire crew. It made you feel like a lackey. How miserable!

Stressed was an understatement and you hated how incredibly pretentious and obnoxious these scholars and researchers were. It was draining to be around. The utter condescending nature of their speech just because you were younger and less experienced. You scoff to yourself.

“Hey! Are you ignoring me? You marched right through a thorny bush, I told you not go that way. But, no! You decided to follow that little compass and map of yours.” A low toned yet playful voice slices through your whirring mind. Oh yeah. You were almost beginning to forget about his presence for a moment with how deep in thought you were- almost as if your legs were running on auto-pilot mode.

You sigh, “Why are you following me?” He releases a chuckle as his steps behind you accompanied with a mischievous bounce into the leaf litter, “Why not?”

You grunt grumpily and he teases, “Oh my flower, don’t be so pouty. That makes me want to just eat you all up with how endearing you look!”

This fae had been persistent in following you for the last five minutes. You had to be wary and keep your wits about you. After all, the fae were a tricky supernatural folk and incredibly dangerous with their verbal traps, contracts and deals. He tried offering his hand to you after you tripped over a tree root and you knew better than to accept it.

This nuisance suddenly appeared after you had tripped over a tree root stupidly which made you suspect that he had been secretly trailing you. As if your life wasn’t as hectic, miserable and dire as it was already, you now had a pest following you, looking like a puppy without a leash.

Honestly, you were tired of life, the facility you worked with was dismal but the access and resources they had connections to were too good to pass up. Thus, you gritted your teeth and put up with the terrible workplace dynamics and condescending atmosphere. All you wanted (and which you haven’t experienced in a long time), was to relax, wind down, succumb and let your head become empty for awhile. Perhaps even a massage too.

But no, life had other plans and here you were struggling to reach the assigned campsite after one of your superiors told you to stay behind because there wasn’t enough room on the damn truck. Selfish fuckers. So here you were making your way manually through the foliage. Thankfully the campsite wasn’t too far into the forest. Deep Grove forest was still a place you needed to be careful. You have heard numerous researchers going missing or ending up injured or even dead. Of course, your plan was not to set foot into the heart of the forest rather stay on the outskirts.

You notice the terrain change to a more rocky terrain. You peer over your shoulder and you see the fae smile brightly at you, “Still here, human. Why, afraid I was gonna leave you alone?” You groan exasperated; you had to keep your patience resilient. Fae would not take too kindly to being the subject of profanity or rudeness.

Stepping up the rocky terrain you grunt clearly unimpressed with how you weren’t alone. “Come on, won’t you tell me your name, pretty please?” Deadpanning, you scoff, “Surely, you don’t think I’m that stupid?”

Oh yeah, he’d been pestering you for your name. What a dumb move, you have to refrain from laughing. You were a scholar, a researcher, albeit, specialising in elves and griffins, not so much fae. But you damn well know to never give your name to a fae.

Glaring you mutter, “No thanks, I’ll pass. I’m here to study the elves anyway, not you.” His eyes narrow, “Sorry, what?” His sweet tone changes making you snort.

His eyes flicker for a moment before he paints a bright expression back on his face, “The elves? They’re rather boring, no? The Fae are far superior, way more interesting.”

You mutter, “Keep telling yourself that.” He feigns shock, “What? You don’t think so? Oh, pretty flower, I’m so hurt. Why study the elves, when you can study the fae?” He steps closer leaning in behind you so that his mouth is beside your right ear, “Why not study me?” A shiver runs down your spine at his husky voice. His voice was unfortunately very pleasant and not to mention is ever so pretty face.

Fuck how attractive he was! The way his green top slung off one shoulder revealing his collar bone and toned shoulder; was making your knees weak. His sharp nose and his ever so slightly pointy ears decorated with various piercings making him look perfect. Too perfect to be human. The epitome of supernatural beauty; how unfair. His luscious lips that seem to pout at your reluctance towards him made your heart race alongside his piercing gaze that held numerous emotions. Human men seemed to have a lot of catching up to do.

“Hm? Flower, why have you gone all quiet?” He hums and you speed up your pace putting some distance between you and peering down at your map to recollect where you were for a moment. The fae observes you intently all while having a mischievous smirk on his face. “I-“ You cut in, “Shush, I’m focusing.” He scoffs with a laugh, “Rude.”

Ignoring your request, he hums walking up to you and peering over your shoulder. He rests his chin atop your right shoulder making you quiver at his close proximity. Shit! Don’t get distracted! “Mm? My, you humans have mapped out pretty much all of this forest, huh? That’s cute.” Your brows furrow, “Cute?” He chuckles, “You’ve only mapped out the parts you can see. Don’t even get me started on the Elven Realm or the Fae Realm. Good work though.” You pale and you feel as though you’re on the verge of an existential crisis of sorts. Great, that was information you didn’t need to hear.

You continue walking now having recollected your thoughts and he continues to walk beside you. “Hm, I’ll tell you my name, since you’re so reluctant on telling me yours. He stops walking and turns to face you with an outstretched hand, “My name is Beom.” You raise a brow peering at the pretty boy with narrow eyes. You also knew Fae would never give away their names so easily without a reason. You smirk taking his hand shaking it and he takes you off guard as he takes your hand moving it upwards towards his face. He presses a delicate kiss to the back of your hand sending your heart rate into over drive. A shaky breath escapes your lips.

“Hm, why don’t you test out my name on those pretty lips of yours, little flower?” He cooes peering at you still holding your hand. You remove your hand feeling flustered as you compose yourself, “Mm, I wouldn’t say that was your name, no?” He raises a brow feigning innocence, “Oh? Whatever do you mean?” You murmur, “Fae never give away their names easily. Is it a nickname?”

His eyes sparkle and a loud cackle escapes his mouth startling you. He grins running a hand through his brown floppy locks of hair, “Oh my, flower you have quite the knowledge arsenal on you. How enticing that is…” You scoff, “I am a scholar.” He hums, “Oh yes, of course, of course. This makes things so much more fun, I do love a good challenge, you know? But to make this more fun. My name is Beomgyu. Not a lie this time.” You deadpan, “Well, really.” A giggle escapes his lips.

You sigh stepping over a log. Your legs were beginning to ache from the various terrains you were walking on. You were purely exhausted too. “Hey, Beomgyu, I guess I’ll call you that. Listen, I’m genuinely so, so tired. I don’t even know if I have the energy to put up with your verbal tests of intelligence and witty remarks. I do not plan to be Fae food today. Respectfully, I really want to just be left alone. I already have a lot to deal with. I really have to get to my site.”

Beomgyu pouts, “Oh my poor flower, so overworked, fatigued and drained. All you humans are so uptight and demanding; it’s so pitiful to see. Always working, never taking time be entertained, to relax. There’s so many ways to relax you know, all beneficial for the mind and body. We Fae love relaxation and in particular, watching entertainment. It’s important to know when to relax, hm? Perhaps I could help you.”

Well probably because they had nothing better to do (but you weren’t going to risk that by saying your opinion out loud). You grunt, “Right, well. Life would be peachy if I could just drop everything and live in a forest with no sense of knowledge, responsibility or obligations.” His eyes glimmer and twinkle, and you immediately follow it up with, “Not literally.” His shoulders slump as he frowns, “Aw, and here I thought I could make that wish come true.”

“No need, Beomgyu,” you utter. You stop walking for a moment and realise you haven’t checked your map in awhile as you were too busy chattering with Beomgyu. Shit! You mutter, “Fuck.” You had lost where you were on the map. Perhaps you had made a wrong turn or lost track of where you were walking as you were taking! This was that damn Fae’s fault! He probably wanted this to happen in fact. Anger and fury rises up within you as you spot him innocently peering at you with a smile. “What is it? You aren’t lost are you, flower?”

You snap as anger envelops you, “Well, it appears I am, all thanks to you! I told you to leave me alone and yet you kept talking on and on, rambling.” Beomgyu frowns at your outburst and he mumbles, “But I just thought you’d like the company. You don’t even have any human colleagues with you. It’s okay, I can help you get to where you need. You mentioned a camp site earlier when we first met, no?”

His eyes twinkle as if he looks guilty and you almost begin to believe he’s remorseful or that he had good intentions. You snap lowly, “No, no. I appreciate the offer but I can manage myself. You can help me out by leaving me be. As is. I’ll be fine.” His umber eyes darken slightly and he sighs, “You humans are so persistent and lack such awareness.” You grit your teeth trying to contain your wrath, “Beomgyu, I’d appreciate not getting insulted.”

You glare at him clearly enraged by this setback as a whole. He folds his arms and scoffs turning his head, “Well, since this is apparently all my fault, that the little human couldn’t keep track of directions, I’ll be on my merry way then. Have fun on your own, little flower. Don’t wilt on the way to your camp,” he spews with a hurt expression. Like a kid throwing a tantrum, he marches and stomps away through the thick bushes and shrubbery.

With that, you were left to your senses.

A pang of guilt hits your heart. He hadn’t done anything to harm you yet and he even was fine with you not giving your name to him. It genuinely seemed like he wanted to get to know you, or was curious. After all, he was a Fae and you were a human, he was bound to be curious. A frown graces your lips, perhaps were you too harsh on him? Were you too rude even? You knew Fae placed a lot of importance on etiquette and politeness. Clearly you threw that out of the window when you snapped.

Sighing, you peer at your map and try to gather your thoughts about your new off-trail location. After minutes, you begin walking in a direction you think is right. You pass by a log. You move on forward. You pass by another log, and another one. Another log again-no, it’s the same log. A whimper escapes your lips; minutes felt like hours. You now felt disoriented and completely on the brink of utter exhaustion. You could faint if you didn’t stop walking. You needed a moment to settle yourself, drink some water and realise that you were quite literally walking in a loop. How long had you been walking?

How the fuck was this happening? Then again, Deep Grove Forest’s illusory properties were intense- but they were unheard of in the outskirts of the forest. What the fuck was even going on anymore? You sit yourself on the log allowing your aching leg muscles to relax and you grab some water to drink viciously to satiate your thirst. You still had food at least. You’d eat when you felt hungry. You were at a loss. Your mind was running at an insane speed trying to figure a way out of this mess.

Before you know it, you feel a wetness on your cheeks. You were crying. Tears drip down your face pathetically and whimpers and sniffles escape you. How pitiful you looked right now. Were you stuck in some sort of illusory loop? Were you terrible at directions? Why did you let Beomgyu leave you? You feel like you were going insane. It was going to become dark soon and here you were like a sitting duck ready to be devoured yet you were too scared to proceed forward in the fear that you’d be heading deeper into the forest.

You continue to cry feeling all the stress of your work life and this situation amalgamate into an emotional breakdown. Your body trembles as your emotions overwhelm you. Realising, you can’t sit here forever, you begin gathering some wood to try and set alight. You needed a fire if you were going to stay warm and cook anything. Tearfully, you begin collecting firewood.

A sudden crunch; as though a twig snapping alerts you. You freeze in fear. More rustling comes from the various foliage around you making you feel terrified. What supernatural beast was going to devour you? You drop all the firewood beside you keeping a sharp eye out.

“HEY!” A boisterous voice bellows out from your right side and you release a petrified screech stumbling backwards. More tears fall down your face and you peer at the source who guffaws, “Oh sweet flower, did I scare you? I thought you were braver than that.” You glare and proceed to burst into more tears. His eyes widen and he rushes over, “Oh my dear flower, you’re hurt. I’m sorry? It appears you’ve been crying.”

You sniffle feeling genuinely dreadful. Your hands were all scraped up from you stumbling back. You were lost, injured and exhausted. Beomgyu frowns sitting beside you and he helps you up to which you don’t resist back to sitting on the log. He sits beside you peering at your hands and taking them into his. “I’m sorry, human. I didn’t realise you were in…such a pitiful state. I thought you’d have long made it to your camp. You seemed mighty resilient.” You sniffle, “Well, I didn’t okay.”

Beomgyu runs his thumbs over the back of your hands softly and you feel a tingling sensation. His skin shimmers ethereally under the spots of light filtering through the canopy above. “I really am sorry, human.” You frown, “It’s…whatever. It’s fine.” His expression is remorseful.

He murmurs peering around, “You didn’t get very far did you?” You whimper, “I can see that.” Beomgyu chuckles, “It’s okay. This forest is very hard for humans to traverse through at times. Even the outskirts.” You huff.

You get ahold of your emotions and begin to calm down. He continues to hold your hands gently as you settle yourself and grasp your situation. Beomgyu delicately cups your cheek and wipes away your tears and tear-stains. He murmurs soothing words and peers warmly into yours eyes. You feel safe with him, secure. He had an aura of welcoming and kindness. You sigh; you didn’t know. You didn’t know what to believe anymore. You just wanted to be home right now.

“I’m…I’m fine now, Beomgyu,” you shakily murmur as you stand up. He murmurs, “So brave, good job, sweet flower.” You mumble, “Do you have to call me that?” Beomgyu mischievously hums, “Or your nam-“ “No. Never mind, forget I said anything,” you deadpan.

Instead of the usual smug, scoff and grin, his gaze darkens for a moment and he huffs, rolling his eyes, “Of course…” His expression brightens once more and he hums standing beside you as begin to pace around in thought. “What’s your plan? You need to get to your campsite. The sun is about to set,“ he states. You frown; you actually weren’t sure.

Beomgyu speaks tentatively with a concerned expression, “Flower, I really do feel bad for you. I’m up for good tricks and mischief, but this, you need to get to safety. How about you let me help you?” Beomgyu walks in front of you with a sympathetic expression and genuineness in tone. “I want to help you, sweet flower. It does pain me to see you so helpless. I may be a fae but I’m not cruel,” he murmurs frowning and says, “Consider this as me making it up for scaring you earlier. I distracted you in the first place, so let me guide you. So just give me your map and I’ll figure out roughly where we are and take-“

Your mind whirrs. You’re so desperately tempted to lean on him for support. Allow him to guide you. For once you didn’t want to be the person who was relied on, on which all the tension piled up on. You peer at his endearing visage laced with concern. Was it too good to be true? There was one rule you learnt back during your degree.

Never accept the help of the Fae.

You were already in deep enough shit. You shakily murmur, “Beomgyu…I-“ He raises a brow, “What? I can help you, I know this forest like the back of my hand-“ You shake your head, “I really appreciate the offer Beomgyu, but I- I can manage.” He goes quiet gobsmacked by your answer before yelping, “But you need help? You can’t do something like this by yourself; you have no idea. Don’t be so irrational, flower!”

You stand your ground and murmur, “I’ll figure it out-“ He snaps, “How? How then?” You snark, “I-I don’t know, but I will!”

Beomgyu’s gaze darkens as he steps forward, “Don’t be foolish, you know nothing of these woods! You’ll be walking in circles till you die or get killed beforehand. Why are you so stubborn? Just let me help you,” he snarls lowly. You shake your head firmly, “Beomgyu, I already said no! Why do you care so damn much?”

Another step forward. You take another step back. He steps forward once more and you step back.

“Beomgyu,” you warn. Beomgyu’s expression changes completely into something that sends chills down your spine. It’s incredibly malevolent as if he’s on the brink of losing his temper with you. “You’re testing my patience, flower,” he grits out, jaw tightening. You say nothing as your body freezes up in fear.

Beomgyu clicks his tongue in anger before he steps forward, arm outstretched and he wraps his fingers around your neck, in record speed. He shoves you against the nearby tree. Beomgyu’s slender fingers wrap around your neck and begin squeezing, as his face is just a few centimetres from yours comes into your view. He’s incredibly pissed, enraged even.

“How insolent,” his tone husky and deeper than usual. He continues squeezing his fingers, “I was willing to be patient yet you were the most persistent one I’ve seen as of yet. Not falling into any of my traps. Not a single thank you, or please. How infuriating it is!” His dark eyes gleam, “Though I do love a challenge, I am beginning to get frustrated. More so, you seem to keep your wits about you. You’re rightfully cautious, unfortunately for me.” He leans closer squeezing your neck even tighter, “Not to mention, you have a face that I find ever so alluring, so endearing too. Intellect and beauty, what a deadly combination, flower,” he cooes with a manic grin.

Your lips part and you gasp. He hums, “Oh? Finding it hard to breathe. Sorry, I tend to squeeze a little hard when I’m frustrated.” Your cheeks feel warm at his proximity and he hums, “Hm? Or maybe you like it? I remember one researcher I came across, had quite the affinity for my hand on her neck.” Your eyes widen. A sadistic twinkle appears in his eye, “Are you the same?” His thumb caresses the side of your neck, “Shall I squeeze harder, flower?”

Fuck, what was wrong with you? The warmth that shoot through your senses was terrifying.

He cooes, “You were so infuriating. I thought even at your lowest, after manipulating your surroundings, you still refused my help.” His hand slides up your neck to cup your jaw, “Aw,” he chuckles, “You look so adorable, terrified like this. Like a deer that’s just gotten shot with a single arrow.” Your knees shake and Beomgyu notices, a dark smile graces his sinfully tempting lips.

He leans closer as he slots his knee coyly between your legs and slips his other arm behind you to curl around your waist whilst keeping the other securely cupping your jaw. A shiver goes through your body, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Beomgyu. A snarky smirk appears as he whispers lowly into your ear, “Are you afraid? Or are you enjoying this? Hm? Are you so touch-starved, my dear flower, that this has you trembling?”

You whimper, “No- I-“ Beomgyu hums, “Push me away, then, flower.” He cooes, “I’ll even loosen my grip on you, go ahead.” The warmth of his body; the humidity in the air, the way his body is pressed into yours; it was all so much. On the one hand you felt scared but on the other he was so alluring it had you feeling weak to his seductive gaze. The way his fingers traced patterns along your waist through your shirt had your mind melting already.

You hadn’t had this attention in a long time, you hadn’t relaxed in a long time. His ministrations and motions were making you feel like putty in his hands. Something that you were not entirely opposed to. Beomgyu hums, “Why so quiet now, hm?” You peer into his glitteringly haunting eyes. Your gazes lock and he hums, “What a pretty face you have,” he slides his thumb across your bottom lip, tugging it down, “Oh and these lips, these lips that held so much fervour and anger to them,”

He leans ever so closely, “These lips that now quiver at my touch. These lips that don’t fall for my pretty lies and traps.”

Beomgyu cooes with a dark smile as he peers at your lips, “Poor flower, so distraught! Unable to know what to do, and where to go. That pretty little head of yours is working over time, isn’t it?” You attempt to glare at his condescending tone and he merely chuckles, “I can fix that. I can make it all better, flower. You know that right? You can hand over all your worries to me. I’ll take care of them. I’ll take care of you. You deserve to be cherished, my delicate flower.” His words pierce into your soul; your eyes drift to his lips as he talks and your heart races. You feel warm and breathless.

Beomgyu whispers beside your face; his breath fanning your cheek, “What will your colleagues do anyway? They’ll make you make tea, carry their stuff, see you as nothing more than an inexperienced researcher, a burden. But I can see you’re so much more than that. So much more to you. They don’t realise the intelligence behind that face.” A shiver runs down your body at his praise.

“You seem rather comfortable in my arms, you like this don’t you?” He murmurs suddenly dipping his head into the curve of your neck. He brushes the bridge of his nose along the curve of your neck and you whimper. You feel him smirk against your skin and tighten his hold on you. “Mm…I think I have a few ways I can help you to relax. De-stress for awhile…”

You breathlessly murmur, “Beomgyu, this is wrong. I-“ he murmurs leaning forward, “Shush, less talking and more relaxing. Be content, hm? I know you’re worried about your little team and all but for now focus on yourself; aren’t you tired of living for other people?” The question strikes you deeply. His lips brush against your own, “Let me take off the burden if not only for a moment.” Beomgyu peers at you with a glance and hums pleasantly as you make no move to turn your head away. Would giving into temptation be so bad? If not only for a while?

Your eyes peer into his gorgeous ones. His ethereal face awaiting your response. Your body jitters with nervousness and excitement. His intimate hold on you, his seductive gaze, the sly smile on his beautiful lips. Goodness…

You breathlessly murmur, “Kiss me.”

Beomgyu obliges with a devious smirk. You willingly close your eyes as his lips press against yours. They move softly yet passionately against yours; he was good. Very good. He nips at your lower lip sending a jolt of pleasure through you and he hums playfully into the kiss as he deepens it pressing you further against the bark of the tree. His tongue brushes against your lower lip making you groan. He slides his hand back down to your neck. All your thoughts of stress, your current situation, the future, any thoughts at all, fly out of your brain instantly.

His touch was magical; his lips were sorcery. After a minute or so, you both part for air. You shiver and he hums, “Your lips taste as sweet as the honey found in the realm of the fae.” You murmur, “That’s quite the compliment.” He chuckles brushing his nose against yours and leaning his forehead against yours, “Mm, indeed it is. The sound of you breathless, has my mind racing.”

Your cheeks feel warm and you mumble, “I…whatever.” Your head feels fuzzy and you feel genuinely content. Beomgyu suddenly pulls you in against his body, “Flower, my sweet flower, you look so dazed? Were my lips too much for you?” He place a peck on your neck. You shake your head writhing out of his grasp, “No, I- as nice as this is, I’ve got to…focus. I need to get back to the camp.”

Beomgyu sighs, a look of frustration crossing his features. You yelp as he places his hands on your shoulders firmly. “What are you-“ He twists you around so that you’re facing away from him. Before you can say anything, he covers your eyes with his hands. You feel his lips against your ear, “Since you’re still so persistent, allow me to show you the truth of the matter.”

In a few seconds, he pries his hands off your eyes and you stumble forward. Where were you? The environment changed? He pushes you forward lightly through some shrubbery. Your eyes widen seeing bright orange trail tape - the campsite! What the fuck?

You rush forward peering around. Your shoulders slouch seeing the holes of where the tent pegs should have been. You see the old burnt firewood. You spot some litter here and there alongside some tarps and broken crates. Pieces of paper lie torn and destroyed, here and there. The fuck was this?

You scream at him, “Where are they? My team?” Beomgyu simply gives you a chilling smile as he sees you breakdown. “Do you wonder, flower, for how long you were walking in circles before? Seeing the same trees, the same log. You didn’t even feel that hungry did you? Do you even know how much time has passed? How long you’ve spent with me?”

Your knees buckle as you screech, “No, no. Don’t fuck with me, Beomgyu!” You peer around manically, “No, they can’t have left. They wouldn’t leave me behind. He grins, “Oh? Perhaps they went to look for you? Sent out what do you humans call it again?”

Your eyes widen, “…a search party. Surely, why…why..” your brain scrambles to find some sort of logical explanation for this.

Beomgyu walks over and crouches beside you, “Ah, ah, there you go thinking too hard again. Flower dearest, logic and rationality don’t apply here. Don’t you understand? What I want, I’ll get. What you want, you won’t,” he hums sinisterly.

“This place, is my domain. A place I can shape to my will, make you see what I want you to see and remove what I don’t. Alas, it’s the realm of the fae that you had been walking in the entire time; just after I had initially met you of course.”

Your mind whirrs as you piece everything together. He had made you lose track of your trail, your course. That’s most likely when you slipped into the realm of the fae; after you met him! He purposely made you lose direction. Your teammates probably gave up their search, because you weren’t in the human realm. You murmur lowly in horrible realisation, “Time works differently in the fae r-realm..”

Beomgyu places a hand gently atop your head caressing down, “Very good, flower.” No wonder there’s nothing left here! They probably thought you were dead-

Beomgyu grins sliding his slender hand to cup your face, “Poor thing, I know it must be hard right to process everything. But you see, you weren’t falling for anything, like the others of your pitiful kind do. That’s why I like you! I had to pull out all my tricks today.”

Your body trembles and he hums playfully, “Anyway, it’s not often, you get to meet with a Fae. You should be honoured I even chose to waste my time on you, instead of killing you off at your reluctance. I get bored rather quickly.“ His fingers glisten and sparkle as he rubs them together. The sparkles fall with a magical chime being emitted. Fairy dust.

“Beautiful isn’t it, flower?” You say nothing feeling numb inside watching it pour down from his other hand in front of your face. “Oh? Don’t tell me you’re hurt by my little illusory trick? It’s all in good fun.” A tear slips down your cheek. Beomgyu release a sadistic giggle at the sight, “Oh no, oh dear. My poor flower is hurt?” He pulls you into a tight hug caressing the back of your head. He cooes, “I’m sorry. It was the only way.”

You murmur, “You get nothing of me being stranded here.” He hums coldly, “Well, I don’t plan to leave you out in the real world. The Fae realm is so much better.” Your heart races in your ribcage. He continues holding you tightly against him. “As I said, Fae enjoy their entertainment. By that I meant, humans.”

Beomgyu tilts your head upwards to meet his sadistic gaze, “Many of my kind, keep your kind as pets, servants and whatnot.” You icily grit out, “Your other victims?”

He grins, “Oh? Them? You need not concern yourself. They were fun whilst they lasted.” Beomgyu pouts, “As I said, I like a challenge; I don’t like when they start getting too broken, or submissive. It takes all the fun out of it.”

You’re mortified at his words. Your blood runs cold despite his warm arms wrapped around you. He hums placing a delicate kiss to your forehead, “Don’t look so scared, flower! You intrigue me more so than anyone else I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. I assure you, we’ll have so much fun together,” he releases a dark chuckle.

Beomgyu hums condescendingly, “If you’re lucky, maybe one day you’ll even win my heart over? How exciting, hm?” You lowly snap, “Go to hell.”

Beomgyu’s lips twist into a grin as he tightens, “Hm? You weren’t so hostile when you asked me to kiss you? I obliged in fact. You could owe me for that, yet I didn’t ask for anything. Perhaps in your deepest, darkest dreams your wish will occur. Until then, I’ll be making sure my name is the only thing your wonderful lips can utter.”

Perhaps, it was a misconception that Fae could only hurt you if you gave out your name or accepted their help. Though it appears some Fae, overall didn’t keep that etiquette.

How unfortunate for you, that you stumbled upon such a fae, a truly sadistic trickster indeed.

Perhaps it was best to just leave the supernatural creatures to themselves. Somethings are better left unknown after all, hm? Who knows how many researchers fell under their traps?

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stars-and-inkpots · 7 months

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could you possibly do one where Tav is on the verge on burnout in Baldur's Gate, from carrying the litteral weight of the world on her shoulders, plus the murders, dismembered clown, emperor chattering away in her mind and just tryingto help every soul in the city... oh, and everyone looking to her for guidance in making difficult life decisions... possibly after advising Wyll not to take the pact and/or one of their companions being abducted

And Gale being there to help her and lift her spirits up (maybe a little guilty about being too wrapped up in his hubris before having a forgiving audience with Mystra to notice how hard it all was on her)

I loved this idea so much because Act 3 really is just so overwhelming and stressful I was excited to write something about it! Thank you!! I hope you enjoy!

The Weight of The World | Gale x Reader

There is so much you have to do. So many things you have to fix and people you have to save. It's starting to become overwhelming carrying so much alone.

Pairing: Gale/Reader

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Blood and injury, panic attacks (kinda), hurt/comfort, comfort, angst, cuddling, spoilers for Act 3

Ao3 Link: The Weight of The World

Word Count: 1,799

You like helping people. If there is a way you can make someone else’s life easier, you are both eager and happy to do it. It’s in your nature to give.

But you’re wearing yourself thin.

It seems that ever since you got off that nautiloid, you’ve been helping people. First, it was the tieflings in the Grove; then the Shadow-Cursed lands; then the refugees on the way to Baldur’s Gate. And along with all of those problems, you’ve also been helping your companions with their own; some with higher stakes than others.

Wyll is quiet today, and when you notice the look on his face, guilt quickly settles in beside the exhaustion that rests on your shoulders.

He is free now, but it has come at such a steep price. You were there with him when Mizora appeared to offer him the deal. He had asked you for advice. You told him that he deserved a chance to be free from the infernal chess board he had been forced to play on for so long.

But what if you were wrong? What if you don’t find a way to save his father? What if Baldur’s Gate is worse off without the duke once everything is done and over with and the dust has settled. What if Wyll ends up blaming you for the death of Ravengard, resenting your decision that was his own to make.

You’re happy to help… happy to give counsel to your companions when they (so often, it seems) need it, but why should you be the one making the decisions for such things? How can you be expected to decide between Wyll’s freedom and his father’s life?

You haven’t even begun to prepare for what could lie beyond the walls of Cazador’s palace, but you’re certain it can be nothing short of dreadful.

Shaking your head, you try to focus on the task at hand. You have potential murder victims you need to find.

More people that need saving.

---

Finding the Stormshore Tabernacle after Elminster arrived to tell Gale that Mystra had yet another message for him was only another goal added on the growing list of things you needed to do. This, of course, took a little priority, given how much you could tell it mattered to Gale.

You brush off the growing exhaustion that hasn’t had a chance to fully dissipate in the wake of so many new problems.

You stand in front of the statue of Mystra, Gale beside you while the others wait outside. You can feel the magic that flows around it, crackling and humming like an electric current. It is not a feeling that brings you comfort or a sense of calm that one might expect from a god; perhaps that is mainly because of your own opinions of the goddess though. While he does a good job at hiding it, you can tell that Gale’s nerves are beginning to get the better of him. You bring your hand to rest it on his shoulder.

“Time was I’d have given my right arm for a chance to speak with Mystra again. The left one too. Maybe a knee…” he says quietly, and as much as you want to believe he is exaggerating, you know there is an air of truth to his words.

“You know you don’t owe her anything, Gale.” You hope he knows that. It’s impossible for you to understand the nuances of their relationship, and you recognise that, but you know that what she had asked of him was cruel and manipulative.

“Perhaps,” he answers. Then adds, “Her first love was always the weave. At best, I was always a close second.”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to justify Her actions to you, or simply giving himself a reason for them that hurts less than the idea that she did not truly care for him like he did for Her.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Despite your personal distaste for the goddess, you would accompany him in an instant if it was what he desired.

“As much as I’d prefer not to face her alone, I’m afraid the magic is only able to bring one person through. I’ll only be gone a minute though. Wait for me, please.” His voice shakes only slightly. You would wait for him even if he didn’t ask.

When he turns to face the statue again, he moves his hand like he’s grasping at something in the air. Then just as quickly, he is gone.

You wait there anxiously. You wonder if you should have told him not to come here. It was entirely possible that Mystra only asked him to come here so that she could punish him for not following her orders to blow up both himself and the Absolute. It would be another lapse of judgement that would impact only your companion.

The stress of the week is steadily catching up to you again, pushing itself into the forefront of your mind while you wait for Gale to return. Thankfully, he doesn’t take long.

Gale reappears in a small flash of shimmering purples. He is smiling, which you assume is a good thing in spite of the general unease the thought of him speaking with the goddess brings.

He recounts the visit with you while the two of you find the rest of your party outside.

---

No one says anything when you go straight to your tent after you return to camp, Gale letting go of your hand to give you a moment to yourself.

Lae’zel is gone, taken by Orin, and being held ransom in the Temple of Bhaal. The memory of the encounter makes you sick to your stomach.

Lae’zel rounding the corner, bloodied and limping, clutching her side while blood pours out in thick rivulets. Your heart beating so fast that you worry it will stop entirely. Grasping her arm to pull her with you, refusing to leave her behind. The feeling of her flesh shifting under your palm, moving, undulating in that unnatural and revolting way you had come to recognize in the shapechangers you had encountered. You recoiled backwards into Gale, watching in horror as Lae’zel’s form shifted; her neck snapping to the side sharply. Her green skin fading to pale grey. It was never Lae’zel at all, but Orin.

She cornered you into making a deal with her. You were to return with Gortash’s netherstone, or Lae’zel would be left to bleed out on the temple floor.

You can imagine Lae’zel’s voice, condemning you for giving in to the Bhaalspawn’s orders. But you know Lae’zel. You know that she is not as unshakeable as she likes to present herself. You know that, wherever she is right now, she is scared.

You can barely think. Everything feels blurry, the world fraying at the edges of your vision dissolving into a mess of colour and sound.

You should have noticed. Gortash had warned you.

You still have so much you need to do.

How did you let this happen?

---

Gale waits a few minutes before he follows you to your tent. He waits nervously outside, unsure.

“Can I come in?” He asks softly.

“Please,” you answer, and his heart breaks at the roughness of your voice; no doubt from crying and struggling to keep the sobs quiet enough that the rest of the camp wouldn’t hear them.

Your eyes are tired, fresh tears still flowing freely down your face.

Gale is terrified too, just like you and so many of the others, but something else weighs heavy on his chest. Guilt, he quickly realises as he looks at you.

You’ve been dealing with so much, and so much of it alone. You’ve taken their problems and made them your own; you’ve done everything for them. You’ve bore their worries, their concerns, and their mistakes. You’ve had no one to do the same for you.

“Gale-” you start, but a sob bubbles out of you cutting you off as your shoulders shake.

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispers into your hair after he quickly gathers you into his arms as he sits beside you. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you like he’s protecting you from the world itself.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise through hiccups against his chest. He only gently shushes you, carding his fingers through your hair.

“If there is any apologising to be done, it is us to you. You’ve been doing so much for us; carrying our burdens and helping with them. I will admit even I have been far too preoccupied with my own mess that I failed to consider the weight that we’ve put on you.”

“I should be able to bear it,” you say mournfully.

“Absolutely not,” Gale objects. “It’s impossible to do that alone. You are only one person. You are not weak because you failed to carry the weight of the world alone.” He sounds so certain, so genuine in everything he says that you know he isn’t merely saying this to comfort you. “Even if you struggled with even the simplest problem, it would be no slight on your abilities.” His words, as reassuring and comforting as they are, bring on yet another wave of tears. He rubs his hands soothingly along your back.

“You are not weak because of this,” Gale assures you once you’ve mostly stopped crying.

“Thank you,” you answer after a while. “Thank you.”

The two of you sit there together. The steady rise and fall of his chest while you lean against him helps calm your racing heart. Gale hums softly, and you relax in his arms.

“Everything is going to be alright. We’ll do this together,” Gale says, with a finality that leaves no room for disagreement.

You nod, too exhausted in both body and mind to bother with speech for now. You reach blindly for one of Gale’s hands, holding it tightly and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. You feel him return a kiss of his own to the top of your head. You don’t need to use your words to explain your gratitude for his presence in your life. He understands you all the same. Your love may go unspoken, but never unheard.

You let yourself relax. The weight of the world may be both figuratively and literally on your shoulders, but your companions can help you hold it.

Yes, you think to yourself as Gale moves you both to lay down on the bedroll, everything will be alright. It will be difficult, but you will be fine. And at least, in his arms, you can pretend that everything will be fine for now. You have to hold onto the hope that everything will be fine.

#gale x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate x reader #x reader fic #gale dekarios #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate gale #gale x you

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