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bhaalsdeepbat · 3 months

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Hellspawn idea that hit me like a religious vision

Astarion can't stop thinking of the color of this flower Karlach found during one of the more idyllic moments of traveling to Baldur's Gate, and it should have been such an inconsequential moment. It was just a flower. But the delight burning in the embers of her mirthful eyes just sticks with him. And it's mostly annoying how happy she is about everything, but he also can't hold it against her when she, too, is adjusting to sudden, newfound freedom, and hers is much more limited than his.

And it isn't even a romantic moment or anything, right? Karlach just sees it on the edge of where the last bit of life was able to grow between the Shadow Curse and the land beyond it. She's STOKED. Bellowing in that way she does about this flower. She just takes a moment to enjoy it, then moves on. Doesn't pick it. Doesn't touch it. Just moves on with her day.

but this moment sticks with him and he thinks about it when they're curled together under the stars that night, his body fitting against the curve of hers, his cold weight soaking up every bit of warmth her overheated body will give him, and her arms are SO strong, but so gentle in the way she holds him.

The immortal forced to reckon with mortality bc this woman, who truly believe deserves a much better lot in life, only has a finite amount of time to appreciate the flowers and the sunrise and just. everything.

He'll still be able to live his life from the shadows and find beauty in the darkness, but Karlach?

He can see her death coming on the horizon and there's so much he actually wants to do, now that they're trying to make things real. and he just. is feeling the pressure bc he did waste time trying to get Karlach into a position to protect him and he'll forever feel bad about it (but not say anything bc that's his burden to carry).

So the immortal keeps thinking about this flower and what Karlach would look like adorned in beautifully crafted items accented in blue: gilded chains and cuffs adorning her hair and horns, sturdy leather dyed and stamped, fine silk embroidered with expensive floss, of all the nice things he wishes she could experience - because he promised her new experiences once they returned - and just.

When everyone's sleeping, he just spends that time sneakily embroidering this doublet he stole from a vendor the moment they entered the city. He's working against time, too, cus this is a gift he HAS to give her before her time is up. So, his skilled fingers move quickly, embroidering this black doublet with the most beautiful embroidery done mostly in blue, but accented with red, orange, and yellow.

He's almost done when Karlach tells him one night that she thinks she doesn't have much longer. Her heart is in overdrive and she can feel her body beginning to give out, to fail her when freedom was so close she could taste it. and it isn't fair. Astarion is SO angry at the world and at the Gods because he FINALLY has someone and. Time is running out. he feels even more powerless here because it really is just up to Karlach and whether she wants to keep going or not. He tries to talk to her about it, but usually they just end up fighting because they're both stubborn.

So, he avoids the conversation, mostly. Just tries to pretend the end isn't peeking over the horizon.

He doesn't give her the doublet right away. He doesn't want that finality, to give it to her and to know this may very well be the last time he gets to give her something he put his time into for her like this. and he has other gifts for her. a new owlbear to go with clive (even if he thinks that's juvenile, but he's not going to judge....well. he will, but not as much as if it were Gale who still had his stuffies). but he just. cannot bring himself give her this doublet bc he knows it's the first and last time she'll be adorned in something that he put together for her. the embroidered doublet is his labor of love, and the man does NOT like to labor.

embroidering isn't even necessarily his favorite thing to do, it's just one of his skills he actually has. he lacks self-confidence when it comes to what qualities he thinks he has that make him worthy of a relationship, but he can make sure his partners' clothes are mended and presentable.

When he finally gives it to her, it's after they take down Gortash. Karlach spends that very night alone, and Astarion cannot take it. He hasn't spent a single night away from Karlach since before they arrived at the Shadow-Cursed Lands, and now they're literally counting the days until they're taken from one another. He's big mad, seething, but very respectful to her bc he understands. he's not mat at HER, he's mad at everyone that took everything they could from her.

That's the first night he actually sits down and starts coming up with a plan. And it's a genuinely good one, but it's the first good one he's had in almost two-centuries. This is when he comes up with how he wants to convince Karlach to let him go to Avernus with her. He's not ready to let go and he is willing to murder his way through the Hells with her if he gets to see her smile about inconsequential things again.

He gives her the doublet the night before they plan to head for the Morphic Pool. They know it may be their last night together, so after a group meal, when everyone is winding down to turn in for the night, they make their way up to the roof of the tavern. They sit beneath the stars, side by side, but they're just sitting and refusing to look at one another.

Karlach is unusually still and silent. She's exhausted. Astarion swears she had his undead heart beating again, but seeing her like that had it stop cold in his chest. He tries to break the silence, to cut off his own thoughts so he doesn't spiral into despair thinking of the unknown, but just ends up reaching out to take her hand.

She's hot to the touch. He can feel that her temperature IS increasing and just. imagining what she's feeling and how she's been pent up this entire trip. like no fucking release from the pressure of this shitty heart that only does its job in the right environment.

She's the one who breaks it first. to thank him for his company. to tell him that he was a little fucking SHIT when she first met him, but she always could see something good behind the veneer of mischief hiding the fear in his piercing eyes. but she loves him and she's so, so happy to have been given a chance to love someone, to touch them freely, to feel loved in return. it was something she was missing in the last 10 years of the loneliness of being simple cannon fodder in an endless war.

and she doesn't want to talk abt this. she had been avoiding it, took him on their date to pretend like he wasn't doomed to be left alone in his eternity. And neither of them even MENTION the elephant in the room. like they're both talking circles around what's going to happen, but they're being honest about the feelings they have for one another. like the only thing they even voice concern for is not being able to take out the Absolute.

Under the stars, accompanied by declarations of love spilling from their lips, Astarion produces the doublet. Karlach is just ecstatic that she received a gift, but when she realizes HE embroidered it, she's just kinda like.

This is. the most beautiful gift i've ever received, fangs.

and her calloused fingers, fingers that had seen more war and death than anyone her age should have to, gently touch the floss, follow the design, and she realizes the particular shades of orange, red, and yellow are in her eyes, in her body, in her chest, all complimented by the blue thread he used as the main color of the design.

It's a design made of the sun, moon, and stars, trailing up the front, across the broad shoulders, and down the back yoke.

she's his sun. She's the gentle warmth of the sun's rays comforting him when he would rather recede to the shadows and fall back on old habits. she's his moon and his stars, his guiding light when everything seems like it may crash down and suffocate him. She's everything good in this world if you look for it. She's proof that you can be put through shit and still come out a decent person.

Karlach does cry, but it's nothing dramatic. It's a few tears, her own stomach and chest twisting with an overwhelming sense of loss and yearning; the loss of time when her light inevitably extinguishes and a deep yearning to stay. it's in direct opposition to her desire to die in the place she loves simply so she can keep living this life with the man she loves.

She puts the doublet on, wearing it that night while he cuddled against her side. They held each other beneath the stars, until it was time for Karlach to get some rest for the upcoming battle. Astarion spends that entire night just watching her, playing with her hair, getting every last touch he can, then makes a vow that he WILL save Karlach, just as she saved him.

#bat rambles #hellspawn #karlach #astarion #bg3 #i'm dying on the hill that astarion's preferred way of showing love #would be gift giving (making sure his partner is taken care of) and touch #but like the former he would NOT draw any attention to that's between him and his partner #like generally gift giving with him is someone just finds it wrapped up on their bed like he's a cat #or in some cases #he'll just casually give it to them during an unrelated convo and. not mention the gift once #for example i imagine when he and mercy are going through loot #to decide what to keep and what to sell #astarion will sometimes pick a ring from the bunch #or maybe he had one he had found while actively looting and tucked it away specifically to give #but he'd just reach over to put the ring on one of their fingers #then go back to what he's doing #just gestures like that #he's dramatic but i think he'd be awkward with gift giving #bc part of it is just how long he went without y'know #once he loves someone he just needs all their needs to be met and then some #one day i'll actually write this out but #here's a quick play by play of what i keep envisioning lmao #long post #bat writes #fic idea

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lovelybrooke · 4 months

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I could listen to you talking about bg3 for ever tbf

Karlach would be pretty slow to be Yandere i think, first cause she cant touch reader without burning them

But i think that after she is Yandere she would be the most protective, I mean, Reader is pretty weak and even tho she would train us I think she would like more to protect us

Wyll and Karlach trying to protect us while Gayle want to have us only for him would be pretty funny

Since I've met most of the main companions, I'll detail the order I think each character would become yandere.

1st: Gale

I've kinda mentioned this in another post, but Gale gives off someone who desperately wants to take care of someone and have someone take care of him. I've heard bits and pieces of his story from just being in the fandom, and it's just the vide he gives off in my opinion. When it comes to modern-day reader, you find yourself gravitating towards him since he might be the only one who can help get you home. Gale immediately takes advantage of this, and spends time teaching you magic under the guise of wanting to make sure you can protect yourself. In reality, he wants to keep you to himself. He only gets worse as he realizes the others feel exactly the same way, and don't really appreciate him hoarding you away like he does.

2nd: Wyll

Wyll gives off major caregiver vibes. He spends his time training children and treats everyone with kindness. He just seems like such a nice guy, which is why I think he immediately starts to pity you when he joins your party. You're very clearly scared and confused, so it's not surprising when he starts to help you around camp and in battle. He doesn't judge or doubt your story, but deep down he does find it a bit strange, at least in the beginning. But he doesn't tell this to you, since you get so happy when you talk about home, and because he gets to comfort you when you get homesick. Wyll's kindness eventually starts to morph into something darker the more you spend time with them. He becomes possessive and intensely overprotective, even suggesting you don't engage in battle at all in fear of seeing you hurt. Like I mentioned, he's a caregiver, so he sews you clothing up (at least until a certain vampire comes into the mix), he makes your meals, and tends to your wounds. You don't really notice a change however, since Wyll is amazing at hiding it

3rd: Halsin

Halsin is very kind, but also very stoic and serious some times. I find him personally very similar to Wyll, just a little bit more himbo-ish. While I haven't officially requited him yet, I do see him as someone who's not very shy about his affections. Like Wyll, he likes to take care of you, taking care of your wounds when you come back to camp, teaching you about this world that you seemed so confused by. He sensed this kindness in you, but also this extreme vulnerability that he knew could be manipulated if you weren't careful. And so, he became your protector. Like Gale, he believes he's the only person capable of keeping you safe. He's also very open about his affections, staying close to you at all times, openly expressing his care and adoration towards you. However, at the same time, he isn't afraid to call out others on their behavior, especially when it concerns your safety.

4th: Shadowheart

I sometimes get sorta tsundere (I hate that word but I can't think of anything else) vibes from Shadowheart. Like Astarion gets compared to a cat a lot but I definitely think she is a lot like one two. She, along with Astarion and Lae'zel don't believe your story about coming from another world, at least in the beginning. She doesn't trust you for a while, and honestly believes you're making everything up in order to gain their trust. I don't know much about her story, but Shadowheart is very distrusting, and so I think it would take her awhile to finally warm up to you. It isn't until the others are finally expressing their feelings that she thinks you might not be as bad as she made you out to be. She slowly starts to get close to you, even though it does take a lot of work. Her feelings for you are subtle, and she's to embarrassed to express them openly like Wyll or Halsin, but she has no problem with protecting you or defending you, at least once she's convinced you aren't going to kill her.

5th: Karlach

I've discussed in another post that Karlach would take a while to get close to you since she can't physically touch you. This doesn't mean she doesn't care for you, it's just that it's much harder to express it like the others. I also think that Karlach doesn't realize her feelings are deep and personally until much, much later. She truly believes her feelings for you are just pride since you're so strong and brave, and that it couldn't be anything more. However, she's sorely mistaken when she starts to feel herself heat with jealously when she sees you with anyone else, taking, eating, training, it doesn't matter. It makes her crave intimacy with you, and it makes her extremely disappointed that she can't actually get close to you. Eventually, she does realize her feelings, and she tries to express them in ways that won't result in injury, waiting for the day where she can finally have you in her arms forever.

6th: Astarion

I know a lot about Astarion, since I do love him so much, so I do think it would take him a while for him to truly love someone. He's a lot like Shadowheart, where he doesn't believe a word about your story, and he spends a lot of time poking fun at you. He truly just can't wrap his head around it, and believes you must be playing tricks. He's not judging you, don't get him wrong. But he won't fall for your tricks so easily like the others. A part of him doesn't want to get attached, because if by chance what you're saying is true, then you're eventually going to go home, and he'll never see you again. When feelings do start to blossom in him, he does what he does best, and he pretends like nothing changed. He doesn't show adoration or care, at least not in ways you notice at first. He'll sew up your clothing, keeping them much longer than needed for such a small tear. He'll offer to brush your hair, and if you offer yourself up for him to bite, he treats you with too much care, care that you don't tend to treat a snack. He doesn't want to admit his feelings, because he's afraid, but a part of him is happy that the others feel just as strongly for you, because it means a better chance at you staying with him.

7th: Lae'zel

It was difficult for me to figure out where Lae'zel would be, but I do think it would taker her the longest. She's standoffish and distrusting, she doesn't care much for others. When she finds you on the ship, dazed and confused, she understood your emotions. But when you mutter and whisper about being from another world, she starts to think you were more effected by the mind flayer then she though. She openly expresses distain for you, assuming you must have memory loss from your time one the ship. She attempts to steer you away from Gale, believing he only feeds into your delusions. You are their leader, you must be strong. Honestly, Lae'zel is the biggest reason you become so cold and standoffish towards everyone, since you start to feel like you're never going to find away home. Pressure starts to build on you, and it becomes to much. Lae'zel won't admit it, but she feels bad. She caused such a drastic shift in you, and she feels remorse. Her feelings for you are subtle, almost like they aren't even there, since they come from a place a guilt. She protects you, keeps you safe, and promises you to help you find a way home, even if she knows she can't keep that promise.

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A/n: I know there are other companions, but I really only wanted to include the main ones, since that's just easier. Please feel free to request bg3 stuff.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #yandere baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate x reader

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bhaalbaaby · 6 months

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So how do you think the companions would react to a Tav with a high sex drive?

thank you for the ask and sorry for the delay 🫡😭 I'm basing this off my current tav Penelope who does have one, especially in act 1 and 2

@spacebarbarianweird + @tragedybunny

gale would think it's amusing at first with little comments about wanting to let loose and be underneath someone. he doesn't offer a 'helping' hand however, wanting to focus on the task at hand with the tadpole and his orb. it isn't until he's confronted with his mortality that he starts consider what it would mean for one night of escape with tav. it's been a little while with him since he's put in the effort for sex, but aiming to please is something gale never put off and would try his best to match his partner's fervor.

wyll wouldn't give in to the temptations as much as he wants to, but he wouldn't be above teasing them endlessly with his words, a gentle hand on their waist, kissing their palms while he looks at them as if they were his sun, moon, and stars, until tav gets too flustered and has to go take care of themself. he does think about them in his own bedroll when he does have his own urges and the dirty fantasies they shared earlier, his hand becoming his best friend in the coming weeks.

lae'zel is up for the challenge, wanting to see how much she can endure and push herself for pleasure. she's a bit embarrassed at first that she doesn't last as long as first when tav asks for another round, wondering where this stamina comes from and also how they can use it on the battlefield.

shadowheart at first judges tav silently from her tent, watching tav hop from companion to companion. while she doesn't join in (shar forbids this), she does like being a listening ear for the gossip, wanting to know who is the best lay in the camp and why is it a tie between lae'zel and astarion. if she doesn't become a dark justiciar, she will want to join tav in their sexcapades, wanting to let go just for a moment and tav being the perfect escape.

karlach would be so jealous of tav at first that they are able to express and act on their inhibitions with whoever they wish. it does surprise her a little bit when tav confesses their attraction to her since she can't do anything without hurting them, but is pleasantly surprised to see tav put in an effort by whispering all the things they want to do to her, writing them down too and slipping them into her tent or in clive's lap for her to find later. when karlach can touch, they spend the first week fucking on every surface they can and anywhere karlach wants since they have ten years to catch up on. it becomes more passionate as she realizes she doesn't have much time left, with longer sessions focusing more on their intimacy.

astarion catches on to tav having a high sex drive pretty quickly and makes his seduction plan super easy. he doesn't expect tav to be so open with their desires and how their foreplay doesn't start before the actual act of sex, complimenting his clothes and armor, the way he fought during a squirmish, and his taste in wine chosen at the end of the day. during sex, he can match their enthusiasm with practiced showmanship. when he reveals his true feelings to tav, it is an adjustment, but they find new ways to be intimate by reading erotic stories and poetry, making out, and attempting tantric sex without penetration or getting naked until he is comfortable. ascended!astarion would use this to his advantage, promising many nights to years of pleasure for his consort. spawn!astarion would appreciate the intimacy they did before, and would want to explore more.

halsin has seen it all and is more than welcome to anything tav can throw at him. he can keep up with tav as well, finally letting his years of guilt fall away as he focuses on them. he lets tav lead most of the time. if tav needs him between their thighs 24/7, he would find a way to make it happen, the kisses while making them wait intoxicating and leaving tav's lips tingling. he may make a comment on their taste being the sweetest nectar he's ever tasted.

minthara would use this to her advantage, especially if she can dom tav, to see how she can use them between the sheets and on the battlefield like lae'zel. she would be into longer sessions of just edging and making tav beg for release, putting their mouth to work between her thighs as she dictates all the things she will do once they take control of the elder brain and bring honor to the world as tav worships her body with everything in them.

#hope that helps <3 #LMAO #nsft #long post #writing #headcanons #gale #wyll #lae'zel #karlach #shadowheart #astarion #halsin #minthara #sorry lae'zel's is short ;-; i still need to do her romance lol

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bg-brainrot · 4 months

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Some of my AstarionxRogue!Tav headcannons of stuff I'll probably never write about:

They never officially get married, but they basically are. They get matching rings, profess their love, and promise to be together until one of them dies. Rogue!Tav just isn't interested in a wedding. Plus Astarion and them will throw plenty of parties with or without a wedding.

They never have children. Neither are very kids oriented (and would likely struggle to keep a child alive between them), but they definitely take care of Yenna for a while before getting her settled with someone who's less danger-prone. They likely also are down to babysit for their friends, as long their friends are cool with their child having a newfound love of crime.

They do get a massive mansion somewhere (or multiple places). They have accumulated a vast amount of ill-gotten wealth and, once they're comfortably settled, they use it. Their houses are extensively furnished and filled with portraits and statues (many of Astarion).

They visit all of their friends sooner or later. They especially enjoy their trip to Waterdeep, not that Astarion would admit it. And, while it was crazy and dangerous, Astarion liked that he didn't have to worry about the sun in Avernus.

They do eventually find Astarion a daylight ring (if not, Gale would have had an enchanter friend make one given enough time). They still live a largely crepuscular schedule due to the nature of their work, but they spend some days just sunbathing like a pair of lizards.

Astarion and Tav start out their post-game life in the Underdark. Astarion puts a lot of focus into teaching the more inexperienced vampires how to live and establishes some leadership before they move on.

This inspires him to briefly consider new possible career paths, including a politician or other city leadership. Tav reminds him he's still not a fantastic liar, so he decides to focus on his talents: embroidery and stealing.

His side project is investigating vampirism, all in the hopes of bettering the lives of the spawn in the Underdark.

Rogue!Tav would still be an assassin, taking the occasional mark from The Guild (or equivalent of whichever city they're in). Astarion dislikes the structure of The Guild so he never joins, but appreciates that Tav has a hobby.

As much as I love Tav grows old stories, I don't think that's how their story ends. Rogue!Tav would have one of two possible ends: they would die as dramatically as possible, likely nowhere near Astarion. It would be brutal and sad and when Astarion found out, he wouldn't believe it for a while. Or they would use the Rite of the Timeless Body that Jaheira gave them and live an unnaturally long life with Astarion. All before a different bloody death (I don't think Rogue!Tav would sit still long, so danger really would come around every corner).

Also, since they promised Jaheira when they took the scroll, Tav feels obligated to go save the city every time it needs saving and drags Astarion along too. They're the reluctant heroes, but win every time. Sometimes some of the old gang comes by to help!

Last but not least, while the two fight, they may even take breaks from each other, and even spend weeks apart at a time for jobs or visiting friends, their love remains. After dozens of reunions, each as passionate as the last, Tav finally gets over their fear that Astarion was jumping into something with them too fast after finding his freedom or that he hadn't had the chance to explore. Astarion, for his part, really just doesn't believe anyone else can be everything Tav is to him, no one he's met even comes close.

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #rogue + rogue #bg3 headcanons #just thoughts i have while writing my reincarnation fic #not the og tav but like obviously heavily inspired hah

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wowowwild · 2 months

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Who Ace Attorney Characters Would Romance In BG3 (Warning: Spoilers for all acts.)

We're starting with Klav bc I thought of him first. Klav would not romance Astarion. He thinks Astarion is annoying bc he and Astarion have too much in common in an uncomfortable way and he does not want to examine those things about himself. Lae'zel would remind him of Apollo so do with that what you will. I think he'd def be a Shadowheart girlie, she's got his vibe and he can save her from herself. I think he would threesome with Halsin on a Shadowheart run, he is very attracted to Halsin, tell me I'm wrong. A calming chill guy who is hot and fucks nasty? Sign him up. I think he would like Wyll, he'd find Wyll refreshing as a genuinely nice guy who doesn't want anything from him and they are both romantics. He didn't even know Minthara or Mizora were romanceable/bangable bc he always plays good runs. Karlach. Yes. I think he has a 50/50 of trying for Gale bc I think Gale might remind him of his brother a bit, but if he misses any of those possible connections I think he would have fun with Gale.

As a side note for Apollo, he is constantly getting asked out by the ones he's not trying to romance or is accidentally starting something with someone he didn't mean to and is having a mess of a time. Karlach's immediate wanting to ride him line freaks him out, he never romances her. The 'we just met' option was put in the game specifically for Apollo Justice. Lae'zel's boldness also weirds him out but I think he would try it once before abandoning the run or reloading a save. He likes Shadowheart. He does a Shadowheart run. Astarion is not his type, he does get to the bottom of Astarion's character and appreciates him as a character, but he is not romancing him. He does try an evil run bc he gets fed up with helping everyone all the time and I think he would actually like Minthara. He doesn't go for Mizora when she asks, though. Halsin is a little too horny for him, I think. He likes Wyll, though. Wyll would be a fantastic option for him. I think Gale would annoy him.

Maya Fey, my beloved. Wyll is the only guy she'll do a romance with, but she would do a threesome with Halsin. She does one with each of the girlies including Minty. I think Karlach's story (minus the ending) would be her favorite, I think she might relate a little too much with Shart and Lae. She also does the scene with Mizora before reloading a save.

Look, do I think Miles Edgeworth is playing bg3? No. But if he did... He is so into Halsin. He does the bear sex scene. He is blushing the whole time but he's so into it. He tries Wyll bc what's on the label sounds fantastic, but he finds that romancing Wyll just doesn't excite him in the necessary ways. He doesn't try anyone else.

Franziska is pretending she video games are beneath her but she wants to know what everyone is talking about even if she refuses to engage and so she plays in secret, usually in the middle of the night and she does a Shadowheart run bc Shadowheart propositioned her first and as she goes through her story she is just constantly bawling her eyes out, vowing to save and protect Shadowheart. She thinks Astarion is a bitch, Gale is annoying, Wyll is boring, and Halsin is too horny. She might also just be denying the fact that she's not attracted to men. I don't think she does a Karlach run, but she does go through Karlach's story every time so that Karlach can get her heart fixed. She likes that Lae'zel knows what she wants and goes for it, but I'm not sure if she would do a dedicated run. If she does, she also starts bawling her eyes out as she goes through the story. I also think she only ever has the girls in her party until she hits a lock she can't get open. She's playing a paladin btw.

Phoenix Wright. Finally someone who is down for Gale. Tbh his savior complex makes him do a run with each of the main six. I think Shadowheart and Astarion hit him the hardest, but Karlach's endings make him quit the game for a while. He also does Halsin threesome.

Ema is 100% down for Karlach. She likes the other characters (mostly), but she is a Karlach girlie through and through. I think she reclasses Karlach to rogue, though, so she doesn't have to have Astarion in the party. She has Lae'zel there to be the big hitter and I think Wyll would be in her party as well. I think she would be a Lae'zel over Shadowheart kind of person. She is SUPER into the evil run, though and it hurts so bad that she can't have Karlach in her party. On her evil run she takes Lae'zel, Shadowheart, and Astarion until she can pick up Minthara and reclass her to rogue. She doesn't absolutely despise Astarion, hater recognizes hater, but he reminds her of the fop, which is a bonus bc when she tells Klav this he gets huffy about it. On her evil run she does romance Minty.

Kristoph Gavin cannot play bg3 bc he's on death row, everyone point and laugh.

Simon is also a Shadowheart girlie. She's mean and goth when you meet her and stays that way even as she becomes a better person. He's into that. He does not romance Astarion, but he always makes sure to absolutely annihilate Cazador. As a side not he also always does the House of Hope. He likes Wyll, he likes how uncomplicated everything is (compared to the other main 5), he would do a Wyll run, but he would still let Duke Ravenguard get blown up. Athena is side eyeing him for that one. He also does not romance Gale, but he doesn't let Gale blow up, either. I don't think he romances Lae'zel or Karlach, but he does see their stories through to completion. He lets Karlach turn into a mind flayer when she offers. He says he's doing an evil run to seem edgy but then Apollo starts talking to him about things that only happen in an evil run and he starts sweating bc he actually did not do that. So he just says actually he's doing a solo run and he's killed everyone possible and Apollo doesn't believe him and forms wild incorrect theories.

Athena is super into Karlach. She basically only does Karlach runs. She thinks Astarion is funny so she always has him in the party (plus locks). Her last party spot is up for grabs depending on what she's doing. She actually brings each of them out to their story locations instead of doing stuff and telling them after.

Am I suggesting that Maya channeling Mia so she could play a video game makes any sort of sense? No. But assuming she did, Mia does a run romancing each of them. She is super into the poly relationships and threesomes bc I hc her as polyamorous and this is my post. I think she would start an evil run just to see and then be so shocked by what Minthara's character is like (in a good way) that she decides to transition into a good playthrough so Minty can see what it's like to be good. She also does the Mizora scene before reloading a save.

Ok, in the same year Athena is playing bc they are the same age, Pearl decides to try it. She goes for Wyll first bc he's a romantic and is everything she thinks she wants. This is when she realizes she's into women. Shadowheart is the female companion you actually get to be romantic with from the start (Pearl is still a romantic), so she tries that and wow. Yuri.

They do not have bg3 in Khura'in, but they do have planes, so when Nahyuta is in the states they play. They are into Lae'zel and Shadowheart equally, actually, and romancing them is very therapeutic. He tries Wyll for the heck of it, but he's too nice, Astarion is too much of a project, and Gale is... Well Gale is really fun to make fun of, so even though they do a Gale run, they're making fun of him the whole time. They are besties with Karlach. They like Halsin's character but are not interested, and they can't bring themselves to attack the druid's grove and the tieflings so no Minty.

This is not an exhaustive list! lmk if there are other characters you'd like my opinions on! I love having opinions!

#klavier gavin #apollo justice #ace's post #maya fey #franziska von karma #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #mia fey #simon blackquill #athena cykes #ema skye #kristoph gavin #pearl fey #nahyuta sadhmadhi #ace attorney

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armsofhadar · 8 months

Text

It’s surprising to him, the first time he feels that familiar spark of affection again. He’s embarrassed to admit that it didn’t even take him all that long to realise that Valefor was someone he’d fall for. For someone who grew up in squalor, abandoned to their fate on the streets, they matured into an exceptionally kind person. Flawed, certainly, but kind, above everything else. Where anyone else would have more likely grown into a bitter and cruel individual, they chose to channel it into trying to better the world.

They're truly a person after Gale’s own heart.

Gale’s slightly worried for his heart after that evening, where Valefor struggles to hide their emotions from the group as they unexpectedly burst into tears over their bowl of dinner. He jokes he put too much spice in and apologises. Not everyone is used to spicy food. His mother would be insulted beyond belief, but not him. To each their own, right? Not everyone can have exquisite taste and the ability to appreciate his immaculate cooking skills.

Wyll and Karlach reassure him that they’re both enjoying the food — with Wyll adding that he wouldn’t mind more spice than this next time, but Gale is too focused on Valefor’s hand, tightly clamped over their mouth as their tears spill over their fingers.

“I’ll ask next time, alright?” he says as he pats them on the back, crouching next to them. “I apologise for not inquiring about your preferences. I could prepare you something else if you prefer.”

But they’re not coughing, or reaching for a drink to quell the supposed heat. He sighs, disappointed in himself for not noticing earlier. This isn’t capsicum intolerance, they’re actually emotional. Disappointment turns into relief. Whatever it is, it’s not the amount of chilli powder he added.

“It’s not that,” Valefor sobs before Gale can share his conclusion, removing their hand ever so briefly so they can speak. Gale feels his chest ache from seeing the grimace pulling at the corners of their mouth. “I’m just—”

The tadpole in his head stirs, connecting with theirs, and Gale’s mind is flooded with images of a young Valefor — not much older than the tiefling children at the Druid grove — mud-covered and filthy as they dig through a waste bin outside a restaurant. One of the servers notices them and chases them off, and they scamper away, stuffing their mouth with a piece of mouldy (what Gale guesses is a remnant of) quiche. He can feel the grit of sand between their teeth, along with the musty, cotton feel on their tongue. Nausea grips their throat as they swallow, before the relief in their stomach overpowers it, finally calming the hunger pangs.

The memory fades, and changes to the perspective of a not much older Valefor, perched on a balcony, forehead sweaty from exertion as they take bite after bite from flaky, stuffed pastries filled with meat and vegetables. He feels the hot tears stream down their face as they chew eagerly before they turn to their friend, who slaps them on the back with a smile. Gale can feel the exhilaration and joy one experiences from eating something particularly tasty. An intense flavour of garlic accompanies the earthiness of spinach and the salt of feta cheese.

“I’m sorry,” they mumble, finding their balance again and putting their bowl down at their feet. “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

Gale is overcome with sympathy, feeling his nose sting with tears of his own, and clears his throat as he puts a hand on Val’s shoulder.

“You might just have paid me the biggest compliment an amateur chef could ever wish for, actually,” he says, unable to keep the emotion from his voice. “Even though I excel at cooking, I’ve never actually seen anyone brought to tears from eating my food.”

“Bah, only you two could get emotional over something as ridiculous as the need for sustenance,” Lae’zel sneers.

“Yet I cannot help but notice you are on your third bowl, my Githyanki friend,” Wyll remarks with a smile.

Gale manages to get Valefor to talk about their favourite dishes as he watches them polish off their dinner, and he finds himself spending his time before bed writing down a meal plan that would rival his mother’s. It takes him a full week to realise he’s not just doing this to make his new friend happy.

Something deeper lurks beneath the surface, something that makes the orb in his chest glow with a warmth he hasn’t felt since he was cursed with the damned thing.

#Val #val/gale #gale of waterdeep #otp: thiefweave #i used british english bc that's what the game uses too #gotta be lore correct #my ocs #fang.txt

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eldritchweave · 5 months

Text

Myrna looked back to the scroll sitting on her makeshift table, purloined parchment, quill, and ink sitting on a downed tree stump. She’d read over the spell scroll’s somatic instructions several times, yet she still couldn’t produce the Ice Knife when she tried.

With a huff of frustration, she dropped down to look over her work again, sitting cross-legged directly on the ground. She’d only just started learning how to pluck the strings of the weave with her will. Arcane studies were something that took time. Finally getting the chance to learn anything at all though was filling Myrna with an excitement teetering on impatience. She appreciated Gale’s willingness to teach her, more than she openly expressed to him yet out of fear for embarrassing herself, but this particular spell wasn’t in his repertoire. He’d shown her how to properly transcribe a spell from a scroll to her meager spellbook, but how was she supposed to learn the actual practice of casting the spell herself?

Her wit was quick, but Myrna had always been a visual and hands-on learner. Reading books about sword technique would never get her anywhere, after all. How could she shift a century worth of learning practice into acquiring knowledge in a new way?

Looking across camp, she considered admitting defeat. She wasn’t going to ask Gale to waste his time learning the spell just to demonstrate it for her, after all. Why would he even agree to something so ludicrous? Patience was a virtue. She could hold onto the scroll until she advanced further in her arcane studies to acquire the skill needed of learning without assistance.

Unless…

There was one companion in her camp who she had seen cast this spell in battle before: Astarion.

All she needed was to see someone cast it up close, an active demonstration. Yet, thinking of approaching him gave her a moment of pause. The opportunity to be tutored by Gale had come about so naturally, his passion for magic a blaze easily finding the kindling of her long-standing curiosity. To ask Astarion felt like offering him a vulnerability. She wasn’t even confident that he remotely liked her, that well practiced smile leaving even her sharp intuition guessing at his intent.

She was used to being greeted by a sharp tongue if she’s lucky, or by an even sharper blade more oft than not. Despite wanting to see the good in others, the resulting weariness left her inclined to believe she was disliked. If she was lucky, her companions would at least tolerate her long enough to find a way of removing the damned tadpoles.

‘Alright,’ she decided, pushing against her pessimism, ‘worst that happens? He laughs at you. Shoos you away. Just… ask.’

Taking a deep breath, she walked over towards Astarion’s tent on quiet feet.

“Good evening, Astarion. I was wondering if you might be willing to help me with something?”

Unbeknownst to her, the edge of her left hand was covered in still drying ink and there was a small smudge of it on her cheek from where she’d rested her head in her palm while contemplating the spell scroll. As she made her inquiry, her expression showed her uncertainty openly, silver eyes meeting his red.

(starter for @astarvion)

#idk what tags I'm using yet for anything #tbd #astarvion

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lucius-the-sinful · 5 months

Note

what's something that's got you emotional about gale?

I'm going to put a cut on this because of the triggering content.

Major content warning for child abuse, suicide, suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, and self harm.

If you're at all familiar with me and my content, I often deal with some pretty hefty themes, a lot of them reflect on my own mental health experiences and journey. I took a pretty bold step with Galethor when crafting his backstory for this campaign. I often say he is my most tragic character, but I try not to get into the why's and how's. One decision that I will dive into here I have never really attempted and that is the topic of suicide. I've struggled with depression and suicidal ideation for years, and I feel I have a mature enough grasp on it to handle it with the delicacy it needs. Plus, I put a lot of myself into Gale, I think it's been very cathartic for me to tell his story. Again, this is the final content warning, I fully understand if this content is not for you.

Gale is a character with very little autonomy, which is something I have touched on. As a child, his demon father was heavily abusive and this led to some pretty awful decisions Gale made early on in his life to not upset his father. His mother is not in the picture and he has never met her. Gale wasn't actively suicidal until his late twenties, but he always had this wish he was never born. If he hadn't been brought into this world, he couldn't have suffered. If his father would just let him die and stay dead, his misery would end. The night before his twenty seventh birthday, he made an active attempt at suicide. At campaign start, he is thirty one and still struggling to find his will to live. In a little one on one roleplay between me and my DM (who is also my partner, I feel like this is important as it is a very delicate subject for me and he has always supported my ideas and creativity and also just as a note that my group's DM is someone I am very close to and comfortable with), Gale was speaking to an NPC named Rarzal. Mountains of backstory notes aside, one key moment in Gale's childhood came up where Gale killed his best friend to evade getting in trouble with the police. He tells Rarzal:

I was just a kid trying to not piss daddy off. I genuinely thought if Domiel got away it would be the end for me. He [Gale's father] already beat me for stepping out of line to the point I preferred school over home, I'd try to get detention so I wouldn't have to go back. Of course, I couldn't even have that, he pulled me out of school after I killed Domiel. He thought, because I killed someone, I was a man. I was fourteen. Its just another fucking remind. My first mistake, the point at which everything changed for the worse. I almost wish he got away, that my misery would have been ended before it truly began.

I don't know, it was just something about how Gale reflects back on his life. He was a miserable child, but in his own eyes he believes that was the best his life was going to get with hindsight. This is what got me in tears, thinking about how without said hindsight we don't know when the worst is yet to come. That at any moment life can take a sour direction. That sometimes we can never fully appreciate our best moments, even if they seem mundane or even bad at the time.

If you made it this far thank you for the ask! I know I don't often post too much backstory notes on Gale but you can probably see why now lol.

#oc: galethor #im covering all my bases here with the tags too #cw suicide #cw child abuse #cw self harm

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Hogwarts x Haikyuu AU

pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x f! reader

genre: angst / fluff

warnings: a series of misunderstandings

wc: 2.3k

m.list. ~ taglist. ~

a/n: back by popular demand, another installment of the hogwarts x haikyuu fluff series featuring the Gryffindor quidditch team and one exceedingly persistent Iwaizumi Hajime. you may want to read the installment featuring one very smug Slytherin beater Kuroo Tetsuro (here) to appreciate the first scene in this story.

“What are we doing here, Iwaizumi?”

He’d grabbed your hand on a hogsmeade weekend, asking if you had any plans. You lied, crossing your fingers behind your back, telling him you hadn’t. So you find yourself seated opposite him in Madam Puddifoot’s, smothered by pink and white frills, surrounded by porcelain teaware.

By all appearances, it looks like a date. It should be a date.

But it isn’t.

Instead of chatting with you, he looks distinctly out of place amidst the swarm of happy couples with a scowl on his face, tapping his fingers so aggressively you fear for the survival of any crockery on the table.

“I needed to check up on someone”, he tells you half apologetically. You follow his line of vision.

Ah.

Kuroo Tetsurou - Slytherin beater, top potions student, is seated cozily with Iwaizumi’s junior on the Gryffindor quidditch team. You heard of the infamous bet between them, you’re surprised if anyone in Hogwarts doesn’t know of it given the ruckus that followed when Kuroo swaggered up to the Gryffindor team to wager the fate of his hair for a date with their substitute chaser (the sole girl on the team).

“I see”, you murmur, twisting the lace napkin in your fingers. “I shouldn’t have assumed otherwise.”

Iwaizumi frowns, finally turning to look at you.

“Huh? What d’you mean - I thought you wouldn’t mind since you’ve always been a good friend - ”

You catch a glimpse of a dark head of hair moving towards the door from the corner of your eye.

“They’re leaving. You should follow them”, you interrupt his stuttering with a wide smile that hurts your cheeks. Iwaizumi halts his incoherent flurry of excuses, only sparing you a glance before grabbing the bill and dashing off in the general direction of Kuroo.

You purse your lips to keep them from trembling.

You should’ve known that he wouldn’t be interested in you. Not when he’s so painfully attractive (especially when Oikawa and/or the Slytherin team aren’t around to knit his brows into a frown), so much so that his bloody biceps have their own fanclub. Not when he’s so laser focused on quidditch and his studies and his teammates and his friends, running flying tutorials for the younger students, keeping Tanaka and Nishinoya and Hinata and Yaku from blowing up Gryffindor tower or running afoul of the professors.

It’s your fault for assuming, for hoping, for wishing that Iwaizumi Hajime, your housemate of 6 years, longtime charms partner and the boy you’ve harboured a huge crush on for the past year and a half - might return your feelings after all.

You should have known. You’re not winsome. Why would you ever win him?

Wishing otherwise only ruins the heart.

So you trudge back to school alone in the snow, skirting past the Gryffindor team who seem to be in some sort of an uproar, only allowing yourself to cry when you’ve drawn the curtains on your four poster bed to make sure you’re alone.

It is not terribly difficult to avoid Iwaizumi Hajime for the next couple of days, at least until charms class rolls around. You’ve sat next to him ever since you were both first years, when his voice hadn’t broken and you were still taller than him. That’s how your friendship blossomed, but you haven’t worked up the courage to face him just yet.

So you choose to displace Daichi by stealing his usual seat next to Sugawara, pointedly ignoring the furrow in Iwaizumi’s brow and the confused looks he tosses at you until you flee back to your dorm after class.

You’re being dramatic, you know. But you figure the best way of getting over Iwaizumi Hajime is to cut him out of your life, at least for now.

“Yoohoo!”

You turn to stare at Oikawa Tooru, captain of the Slytherin team, a classmate you’ve maybe exchanged less than ten words with in your entire Hogwarts career.

He’s probably shouting at someone else.

“Gryffindor-chan!”

Nope. He’s definitely referring to you.

You curse your parents for your laughably short legs when Oikawa effortlessly catches up to you in the hallway, pulling you into an empty classroom heedless to your protests.

“I have a name, you know?” you snarl, snatching your wrist back.

“You Gryffindors are always so fun to tease!” Oikawa lilts, head tilted to look down towards you. “Don’t be grumpy like Iwa-chan” - his eyes gleam when your lips tighten - “oh did I hit a nerve? Heard you’ve been ignoring him for a few days now.”

“It’s really none of your business”, you inform him pertly, inching towards the door.

“No, it isn’t”, he agrees easily, with a smile you instantly distrust. “But I have a proposition for you.”

Curiosity kills Mrs Norris. It is no different for you.

“What?” you ask, fingers already grasping your wand, ready to curse him at the first sign of trouble. “What do you want from me?”

“So prickly, just like Iwa-chan - no wonder you’re friends”, Oikawa teases, holding his hands up to placate you when you brandish your wand at him.

“Speak or I’m leaving.”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh. You know - if you really wanted Iwa-chan’s attention, you should go on a date with me. That’ll show him.”

You stare at him. You’re not even aware that your jaw hangs open and your eyes bug out inelegantly.

“What!” he cries, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart to get my best friend a girl he deserves.”

You gather yourself, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s in it for you?”

“Well - you could sit on the Slytherin stands and cheer for my team, that’ll distract Iwa-chan to no end”

“Go to hell, Oikawa”, you tell him flatly. “Go to hell.”

You slam the door behind you.

“Hey.”

Iwaizumi Hajime springs to his feet the minute you step foot into the common room. You nod jerkily to acknowledge his greeting but you walk right past him, heading straight for the girls’ dorm.

“Can we talk?” he calls after you when you’re already halfway up the flight of stairs.

You pretend you don’t hear him. You think that should deter him, but Iwaizumi Hajime is persistence personified, so you really shouldn’t have been surprised when Akane Yamamoto comes barrelling into your room yelling that the Gryffindor quidditch team is determined to breach the centuries old magical barriers barring boys from entering the girls’ dorms.

“What the hell is going on?” You hear Daichi thunder when you peer over the bannister.

Yaku, Hinata, Tanaka, Yamamoto and Nishinoya are all dogpiled onto the staircase - now a steep slope, cheering Iwaizumi as he clambers on their backs, face set in determination. You giggle despite yourself as you watch Daichi flail in confusion when he notices his otherwise trustworthy vice captain in the thick of this mayhem.

“IWAIZUMI!”

“He’s boldly going where no man has gone before” Yaku tells Daichi approvingly from the bottom of the pile.

“Charting new frontiers!” Hinata pipes up, though he immediately cringes when Daichi turns the full force of his glare on him.

“To infinity and beyond!” Tanaka and Nishinoya whoop.

“This has gone on ENOUGH!” Daichi roars, and the enchanted staircase clearly agrees with him, because with an echoing creak that eerily resembles a blech, the smooth wood of the slope ripples, rolling the entire Gryffindor quidditch team (sans Daichi, of course) into a pile on the common room floor.

Even though the rest of his teammates are complaining laughingly and railing against the antiquated enchantments, Iwaizumi continues to stare stubbornly at you.

It’s not over, his intense gaze promises you.

You shake your head, heading back to the safety of your room.

Your window rattles. The wind howls.

You shrug it away as a particularly violent storm, burrowing deeper into your nest of blankets.

Then you hear a loud crack.

“We’re under attack!!!” you hear one of your roommates shriek before fleeing the room.

The sorting hat must’ve made a mistake with her, you mutter under your breath, grabbing your wand before stomping towards the window. You yank the curtains back.

Iwaizumi Hajime stares at you sheepishly through the glass, pebbles in hand, hanging on to his broomstick in the gale for dear life.

“Are you crazy?” you shriek. “Have you lost your mind?”

“You weren’t talking to me”, he mouths, forehead creased in frustration. “I want to know what’s wrong.”

Never mind your other idiot roommates cooing in the background at how impossibly romantic the entire situation is. He’s never once looked at you with any ounce of romantic interest, which is fine, really, you’ll get over that, but he’s making it so much harder by badgering you incessantly. You want him to leave you the hell alone, so you can lick your wounds in peace and mope to your heart’s content.

“Get lost!”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

You’re about to rip your hair out from frustration.

“Fine. Meet me in the common room then”, you mouth back, hands on hips, looking decidedly annoyed. Iwaizumi doesn’t even pretend to look fazed, grinning at you as he speeds off.

You trudge down the staircase, waiting until he tumbles into the common room, broomstick still in hand. There are far too many eavesdropping ears in the common room, and you have no wish to embarrass yourself more than he has already, so you march him to his dorm.

Daichi and Yaku watch with wide eyes as Iwaizumi meekly follows your order to strip off his wet robes and get into dry ones now - or serve him right for catching his death from a cold. Then with a sharp muffiliato, you draw the curtains, shielding yourself from any prying eyes.

“So.”

“What can I say to get you to leave. me. alone?” you ground out.

“Why don’t you tell me why you want me to leave you alone”, Iwaizumi replies, painfully earnest as he inches closer towards you. “Cos to me it seemed to me you just got mad with me right after Hogsmeade and I really don’t know what I did wrong. And even though Shittykawa kind of told me I’m a fool for not knowing what happened - maybe you’d want to tell me yourself?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong”, you inform the godzilla toy sitting on the bottom of the bed (courtesy of his muggle mother, he told you once).

“Was it because I left you at Madam Puddifoot’s? I was worried about my teammate and thought Kuroo was up to no good, but it’s no excuse, I shouldn’t have left you to walk back alone.”

“It’s not that either”, you murmur, even though that memory stings. “It’s not you, Iwaizumi.”

“Really? I’m having a hard time believing that given the lengths you’ve gone to avoid me.”

“Really,” you emphasise, still refusing to meet his eyes. But you know he’s not convinced and you owe him an explanation, if only to get him off your back so you swallow nervously, take a deep breath and -

“I just - I just really need to get over you.”

“Wha - What d’you mean, get over me? I don’t get it - ”

Your temper flares up.

Iwaizumi Hajime stares at you, open mouthed. You itch to reach out and shut his mouth for him, but you barrel on to the bitter end -

“Do I have to spell out everything for you?” you snarl like a cornered animal, frantically gathering up the remnant shreds of your dignity to piece it together into a makeshift shield.

“I like you, okay? I like you, Iwaizumi Hajime, and I got so ridiculously excited when you asked me to Hogsmeade that I didn’t realise you were only asking me as a friend. “

“I’ve liked you for so long that I need time to get over you, okay? Can’t you even give me that?”

The room is so quiet you can hear a pin drop in the room.

This is embarrassing, you think to yourself. This is embarrassing, and you shouldn’t need to put yourself through further humiliation by waiting for him to turn you down again.

So you reach out to tug the curtains to make a hasty escape when Iwaizumi’s arm shoots out to grab your wrist.

“I don’t want you to get over me.”

“What?”

“I said, I don’t want you to get over me”, Iwaizumi mutters, his ears turning so red you’re surprised his hair hasn’t caught fire yet.

“Why not?” It’s your turn to make him squirm.

“Because I like you too, okay? I didn’t - I didn’t really figure it out until you stopped talking to me and I missed you so much I swear on Merlin’s balls I was willing to try even the stupidest suggestions from my idiot teammates - “

“I could tell”, you interject dryly and he chuckles, cheeks bright pink.

“Daichi was not pleased, let me tell you that”, he admits with a twinkle in his usually serious eyes.

“But it’s worth it. You’re worth every bit of it.”

“Really?” you breathe. “You really, really like me?”

“Really” he says firmly, lacing his fingers with yours. “I really, really like you.”

“We’re a pair of fools then”, you say and he laughs aloud, a glorious sound you’ll never grow sick of.

“You both really, really are”, Yaku calls from the other side of the room.

You both stiffen. You don’t even realise your conversation has stretched long enough for your hastily cast muffiliato charm to wear off. Now you can even hear Daichi trying to shush his irrepressible teammate muttering about ungodly six am practices that he’s not going to get enough sleep for if his idiot vice captain doesn’t get his love life in order soon.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow”, he whispers, breath warm against your cheek.

“I’m looking forward to tomorrow then”, you whisper back, your heart fluttering in your chest as he escorts you back to the foot of the staircase to the girls’ dorm, chivalrously refusing to turn away until you step into your room.

You fall into bed, a giddy smile on your face. The foolish wish your heart made has come true.

Previously:

Miya Atsumu (Slytherin).~ Miya Osamu (Slytherin).~ Kita Shinsuke. (Ravenclaw)~ Kuroo Tetsuro. (Slytherin) ~ Bokuto Koutarou. (Hufflepuff)~ Sakusa Kiyoomi. (Ravenclaw) ~

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu romance #haikyuu writing #haikyuu imagines #hogwarts x haikyuu #haikyuucafe #haikyuucreations

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

Text

Lullaby for the Gods

You have two options

"Stories brought on to the wind will bloom into legends in due time; An ancient tale comes whisked into the wind; In time it will grow and sprout once again." The Weaver and Nurturer of Tales, how they came to be and how they have gone.

Pairings -> Venti x God of Time (Ambiguous, Can be Reader)

Word Count -> 1976

Themes -> SCENARIOS, Background, Timeline, It's sad kinda

Series -> #Bonafide specials (100 followers event) Special slot from a special someone : not sure if they want to be tagged

Warnings -> This is my interpretation on the God of Time based on the Sacrificial Weapons Series. And since the prompt only mentions Venti, I won't focus much on their relationship with Decarabian.

Winds of the North are migrating through the crown of the continent once again. The clouds and breezes shift at the peak of day and the grass, the trees, the flowers they all sway. This was the first encounter, as one of the threads of the thousand migrating winds that is Venti, he had always been fascinated by the strong gales that covers a vast land beyond his reach. The city of Mondstadt protected by raging winds far stronger than he.

"Come now, little guy, are you not straying from your stream?" Such beaded eyes of the little sprite detaches from the crown of the North, with its giggles accompanies a sound reminiscent of bells as he nuzzles at the outstretched hand, fair and smooth. A finger consoles his little cheek as the God of Time echoes his snicker. As the sprite settles on their hand, they both spare a minute to watch the God of Storm's dominion. And then they turn to guide Venti back to his current, to his family of winds.

And the little sprite will not witness them until the second cycle of wind passes the cold land of Mondstadt.

So when the time came, several weeks after, Venti once again strays from the winds to venture to his own current. Where are the satin robes that flows with the breeze, that witnesses the rage of another God? The sprite follows tinkling of tin carried by the thousand winds, harmonizing to produce a soft and sleepy melody that lulls those to sleep.

In a distant island he finds himself upon a huge sundial atop a mostly quiet temple. And there stood again the God of Time, with a distant look over the ocean horizon, eyes clouded yet sparkling from the stars that bounced from the surface of the water. Their skin never frails nor wrinkles, hair lustrous and thick, yet their eyes carry a thousand yard stare of shrouded sadness.

"Little wind..." the sprite nuzzles against the cheek of the God, vibrating in worry as he urges them to smile. And they did, even if did not reach their eyes. "You've strayed again, your achon is far from here," cradling the elf to their neck, they turn away from the horizon to the west.

Yet when they urge him to go back, he stubbornly stays.

A stubborn wind playing around the wielder of Time itself. His courage was admirable, and he is lucky that this God is benevolent to his advances.

So they entertain Venti, and the wind begins his stories. Tales of those he'd witnessed when the wind ventures through the continent; and in every word he spills the God of Time is attentive, for when his accounts finally come to their end, Time puts into their memory for keeping. You weave the tales and I treasure them for that is my duty, they spoke with melancholy.

Decarabian is a God that loves his people more than others would know, more than the people would know. And he is also a lonely God. Perhaps it is this distance and disconnection from the world and his people that had made him naive to what he has forced upon his subjects.

The first prayer was heard beyond the wall of storms, only befalling to the ears of the God of Time and the wind spirit who were enjoying a leisurely stroll through the frozen land Andrius had covered in his territory. A man's woe for salvation of the city beyond the gales first reaches the God.

Yet they are unmoving and silent as they watch from afar the Gunnhildr.

But the wind spirit was not that, he was curious and as always he is carried away to his own feat. So without warning he strays from Time and listens to the crying one ever so patiently, and there he receives a glimpse of power that shall manifest one day to greater good.

God of Time offers a smile in the forests where they hid. But only that. For despite being the God of Time, they are solely there to protect its flow. To maintain balance and what should be.

There is nothing they can do to help the people of Mond.

"Little wind." The moniker carried a hard edge of worry unlike the other instances it was used. "The land of Decarabian is... treacherous and suffocating. You are but a tiny wind against his storms." Yet they knew such words will not remove the resolve in the tiny spirit. "Come back to me in one piece, alright? Remember your tales."

Venti softly bumped his hooded head to the God's cheek in reassurance, before he too disappears past the walls of gale front.

And so the God of Time can only do nothing but stand in wait. Like they had always been. Like they had always done. For Decarabian then, for Venti now.

"Bring forth the freedom we all desire."

Many of those that dwell the King of the North's cold wasteland once talked of an ethereal being of satin and silk, of flowing sands, that which overlooked the land of the storms with a somber look. Perhaps it was the waiting and the hoping, but many felt great semblance with the deity. Of the longing look for a distant freedom.

"Little wind," immediately after was a chorus of laughter at the irony brought upon by habits. Venti, now Barbatos with his great wings loom over the God of Time, hands outstretched to feel upon their smooth hands. "I always knew there was more to you."

"My muse," he tastes the new name with his newfound voice, and with his there was a chorus of angelic echoes. "There are festivities upon us, for the city of Mond trapped that was. The people had prepared a grand temple, for just us two Gods it is already ample."

Yet the God of Time smiled only with their lips at the mention of a shrine. You told them about me, they mused as the archon carried them both with the wind where the temple by the east cliff resides.

Give yourself some credit, the new Anemo Archon responds in light banter.

But the God of Time does not.

And so days of reenactments and performances were all that they were driwned upon. For daily, between the peak of the moon and the glimpses of the sun, devoted subjects would appease to the two Gods of Mondstadt through retelling and theatrics of their hard-earned journey to freedom.

Although they cannot glimpse upon the forms of the deities, the light giggles reminiscent of bells that comes from amusement and the flow of draping satin are enough reassurance that their important audience still lingers and listens to their offerings.

This dwelling became their place of rendezvous. And whenever the amphitheater was not crowded by devotees, a lyre plays with a melodic voice, weaving tales of Mondstadt's anew. The God of Time would be there to treasure every story that is weaved, but their subjects remember such moments in a different light: the strum of the strings and the lilt of Barbatos carries with it a hint of serenades.

It seems as tho the faceless God enjoys the Anemo Archon's tales the most.

Whenever it is the Gunnhildr's clan that performs their tale of courage in honor of defending Mondstadt, life and freedom, Barbatos' happiness was the most extraordinaire. The winds breeze by to caress everyone with comfort.

The Imunlaukr receives praise from the God of Time when they are the one on stage. Of courage and bravery, with their desire to not only protect the city of Mond but to appease the Gods, time slows when they follow their script. As if honored by time to stay and linger for the amusement.

And finally, the Lawrence clan holds with them a different reaction, for when their time has come it is quiet. Other clans would comment that perhaps the Gods do not favor their performance but they continued regardless, and they carry with them the essence of wisdom and strength, from the frozen lands to the new city. And only after they perform are they graced by the softest winds and the kisses of youngness that they carry with them even after.

This clan's performance sings with expertly woven symphonies and journeys of hardships through the cold, not harsh but comforting, soft melodies and that of longing. During their performance unbeknownst to their eyes is when the wind embraces the passage of time, where it is in its calmest moments, cradled between his arms and resting against his chest.

The bloodline of the Lawrence always ends the rituals for the morning, for the God of Time had finally found themself free from the shackles of the storms, peacefully resting in the arms of freedom. And it is in these moments that the people appreciate the lessened harshness of time.

Time is harsh and unrelenting, and should always be moving.

The God of Time protects time, nurtures time, and urges time. No force or law shall break the equilibrium of time nor tip its balance. And this unbreakable rule applies to them.

For this reason they ask one day, to the Anemo Archon, why they praise Time. What do they expect from time. And there Barbatos finally sees the burden of a thousand years, of the constraints of that whom is held down by prayers, held down by incapability.

Time only knows harshness. And they cried to the winds without restraints, for not once will they be able to gift the people that so desperately long for their blessings.

And for once, the wind was silent.

For once, the winds... understands the insanity of being one with time. A force made to be unmoved and unrelenting, to be shackled to a single tale when you are burdened with the pleas of many others.

Time is harsh, because they are meant to be.

So when the Anemo Archon finally desired rest and detachment to procure the essence of freedom, they too felt the chance to finally breathe. "Can you set up my awakening five hundred years from now?" Venti laid his head upon the lap of Time, teal eyes and smile somber yet gentle and reassuring. "Preferably at the peak of Ludi Harpastum, if you would allow." An hour glass manifests next to him, allowing his wish.

"When you wake, I will be here," they mumbled as the archon lets his eyelids rest, feeling a soft kiss to his forehead that lulls him to sleep.

"Tell me the tales like a balladeer." And he slumbers away the years.

"When I came to be, the Lawrence ruled over Mondstadt, governing with the most disgusting aristocracy. It was only right that they lost the blessings of thy winds, after all it is only for those who fought to be free," Venti sighed with pure disappointment, "Honestly."

"What happened to your Time friend, then? Did they tell you what happened during your sleep?"

The windborne bard looks at Paimon with a wide yet steeled gaze so daunting it made her squeak and hide behind the traveler. Who silently watches as Venti once again sighed and resigned to strumming his lyre.

"They're gone." No rhyme, no smiles, no cryptics.

Barbatos sought out the help of the winds of Teyvat to tell tale on the dwellings of the God of Time yet came out empty handed. And his only salvation, the oldest of the Seven, can only shake his head as he too does not know of the whereabouts of the God.

The fragments of time lingers in cursed windswept ballads and stories. And as the years go by, all worshipers and records had forgotten about the deity.

They only sing praise to the wind shrine now.

Now who shall nurture the stories brought by the winds?

I seem to have a knack for hurting Venti.

@creation-magician @boxofteenageideas @zelos-simp @ellitx @your-local-venti-simp @indigodreamtime47

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #exile.flower #Genshin impact venti #venti x reader #god of time #gender neutral #bonafide specials #bruuuuh #what is this #i dont know either

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folkloreguk · 3 years

Text

Gold Rush (optional bias)

A/N: I honestly don’t know a lot about the middle ages, so if anyone is a history genius, pls bare with me if I write something that doesn’t make sense asfghjk PS: feedback is greatly appreciated!!

genre: optional bias (male), thief!au, strangers to enemies to lovers, medieval!au, suggestive content, reader is always ready to fight lmao, a tiny bit of angst

summary: As thieves, you both try to steal from the same royal carriage. Only it doesn’t go as planned for either of you. Will you get away before the king sentences you both to death?

words: 8.9 k

You had been tailing the royal carriages for an entire day now. You were sure your horse was getting exhausted, but the sun was setting and you knew what that meant. Soon, the transport would come to a halt. They would find a clearing somewhere, with trees as shelter from all sides. Then, they would set up their camp for the night, only to pack up everything in the morning and travel another two or three days, until they reached their destination: the castle. Only instead of delivering the full carriages, with gold, silver, pearls and gems, a few handfuls would be missing. It would be almost nothing to them, you suspected. They might not even notice it disappeared.

To you, however, it meant existing. You had to admit, being a thief hadn’t been your first choice when it came to choosing an occupation for the rest of your life. You had tried to integrate into different businesses. You were going to learn to be a baker, a glover and even tried to keep a job helping out on a farm. But none of these professions were for you. You were tired of being commanded around by men who tried to make you their little maid or worse – ask you for your hand in marriage. The judgement was tedious. “Aren’t you too old to be unwed?” “Where is your husband?” “How many children do you have?”

You wished you could talk back. “No, I’m just fine, he doesn’t exist and none – is it any of your business, by the way?” But you had learned that arguing with elders would only get you in trouble, and perhaps your decision to refrain from living the typical life was exactly what made it impossible for you to keep a job. That was, until you discovered your talent – a sleight of hand that was invincible. Some would call it avaricious; you would prefer to describe it as a passion. It wasn’t evil, just a thrill you enjoyed chasing. The beginnings had been humble. A few coins out of someone’s pocket here and there, some food from an unsuspecting marketer; you had to keep yourself afloat somehow, right?

But the seasons went by, and you became more audacious and greedier for your beloved adrenaline. Plus, you realized that stealing from the rich had something weirdly rewarding. Maybe it was the anger you felt at the king for hoarding the wealth of the land whilst letting his people starve in the streets. Either way, stealing from those who had power made you feel a sense of benevolence. You gave away some of your stolen goods to those who actually needed them, instead of letting all the money and jewelry rot away in someone’s bag and around someone’s neck. Sometimes you hid in the shadows after your theft had been settled, only to see the reactions of your victims. It might have sounded obsessive, but it gave you assurance, when they moved on after only minutes of complaint, because you knew those few coins were miniscule to all of them.

And currently, you were on to one of your most reckless thefts. You were well aware this could get you killed. Yet you couldn’t help it, the glimmer of the jewels and the gold was hypnotizing. Finally, the carriages had come to a halt. From a safe distance, you observed how they unloaded their tents and checked especially carefully where they kept the most desired goods. The wares would stay in the carriages, probably guarded all night long. You would need to wait for the right moment.

“Good job today, my dearest Dorato,” you whispered to your horse as you tied the reins to a tree. Gently, you pat his nose. He pushed his head closer to you, demanding more affection, but your eyes were already on your objective. For at least an hour you stood, hidden in the thicket, waiting for the sun to set completely and some of the men to lay to sleep. With a hawk’s gaze you counted the men and made sure you knew each of their whereabouts. One of the wagons stood with its back opening facing you – which was perfect. It was like they were presenting the goods to you on a silver plate. To the left of the wagon, some of the men had lit a bonfire and were seated around it. Judging by their laughter and lively conversations, you doubted they would go to sleep soon. One of them was sitting on the edge of the carriage, meant to guard the inside. He, who should have been paying the most attention, however, was fast asleep. And that was your chance.

“Wish me luck, Dorato,” you whispered to your horse, running your hand over his warm neck. Then, you slowly moved towards the carriage. Outside the shielding cover of the trees, you felt you needed to act quickly. The gales of laughter were helping against your vulnerability in reminding you that the men around the fire were trusting their sleeping guard to have everything under his control. Sly as a fox, you kept your distance and approached the opening of the wagon only when the bonfire was out of sight. You pulled the fabric to the side and with a swift jump, you landed on the edge of the carriage right next to the dozed off man. It only took one maneuver and you had opened the wooden chest nearest to you.

You grinned in triumph at the jackpot in front of you. With eyes sparkling just as much as the diamonds and gems, you grabbed handfuls and transported them into your bag.

“Henry, change of shift!” someone suddenly shouted. Their voice sounded scarily close to you, and then you heard footsteps approaching. Even though you had wanted to be greedier and steal some more, this was definitely your cue to get out of there. If they saw you inside the wagon, you’d be done for. So, without second thought, you yanked the cover away and leaped off the edge.

“Thief!” the surprised man howled as you passed him. Luckily, this wasn’t the first quick escape you had ever had to make. Your feet carried you rapidly, over the grass and into the trees where your horse stood. One quick pull and the reins had come off the tree trunk.

“Over there!” a hoarse man growled. Now more voices were heard, curses and angry shouts directed your way.

“Let’s go, boy,” you said and hauled yourself into the saddle. You pushed your legs against his belly, quickly signaled your horse the way and he knew the drill already. He took off sprinting, out of the forest cover. The wind in your face momentarily forced your eyes to tear up a little and you squinted against the cool night air. But just as you thought you were getting onto the gravel road, one of the guards jumped out in front of you. The fire from the torch he was holding danced aggressively in the wind. As he pointed it high, it was a blaze against the darkness of the night sky, and Dorato whinnied in terror. He jumped and reared up, and you lost balance.

“Seize her!” a man shouted at your disoriented figure on the ground. You wanted nothing more than to get back on your feet and flee. But it was no use. You were surrounded by a number of gravely livid men, and should you try anything stupid now, it would cost you your life, probably. Somebody grabbed your shoulders and pulled you up.

“Take the horse,” one of them ordered and your eyes widened. If they hurt your best friend it was the last thing they would do, you swore in silence. But to your dismay, as the men dragged you over to the wagon, they ripped your quiver and your bow from your back. You sat still as they tied your hands and feet and hurled you into the very wagon you had just stolen from.

“There you have your gemstones,” a guard spoke. “Look at them as much as you want, because soon you won’t be looking at anything anymore.”

Giving him a gaze so spiteful it should have hurt him physically, you spit right into his face. Lucky for you, he wasn’t up for a fight. It wasn’t on him to convict you for anything just yet. A complacent smile spread on your face as he walked away, wiping your saliva out of his eyes. At least now you had a guaranteed roof over your head for the night.

You were in slight trouble, you had to admit that. In two days, you would arrive at the castle. Depending on what the king decided, your punishment could be as severe as death. But until then, it would be a while. There was still plenty of time to escape, you assured yourself.

All night long, no matter how much you forced your eyes shut, you didn’t catch a minute of sleep. The men’s chatter was simply too loud and maybe you were concerned for your safety, after all – even if you would have never confessed it to someone other than yourself. The heavy chests of luxurious items sat across and next to you, as if they were mocking you for your foolish actions. For hours you sat staring at them, cursing your greed. Only in the morning, when the carriages continued their journey, the rocking of the wagon lulled you into a slumber.

You awoke later that day. Judging by the dim light falling into the carriage, it must have been the early evening. Curious, you scooted to the edge, lifted the fabric that was covering your sight and checked. Your assumptions had been right. The golden sunlight of the last hour of daytime shone into your face. The wagon you were in was the last of them, behind you only the bright gravel and trees left and right. For a while you daydreamed the boredom away. You went into another world, in which you didn’t have to steal to survive. In your real life, you were either born into luxury or you had to toil each day for the rest of your existence. There was no hard work that could have transported you out of your peasant-state and into something more carefree.

Suddenly, shouts ripped you right out of your dreamworld. The wagon had halted, but when you looked out the back, nothing was there. Trying to learn what the commotion was all about, you concentrated on the chaos of voices. Had they all gotten into an argument? The men were all talking at the same time, so there was really no use but to wait and see.

“You will be delighted to have some company until you receive your sentence from the king,” a man said. Footsteps drew nearer. Someone pulled away the fabric at the end of the wagon. Before you knew it, a figure was pushed inside. It was a young man but clearly not one of the guards, as he was dressed like a peasant. With a groan, he was bracing himself up across from you.

“Enjoying the ride?” the guard outside the wagon taunted you with a sneering grin. You spat in his face. Again.

“You little-“ he snarled.

“Let’s go! We can’t lose any more time!” someone yelled and unknowingly saved you from more trouble. The man disappeared and the carriages began to move again.

You welcomed the newest addition to your wagon by staring him down like he was about to take all the gold and diamonds clearly reserved for you. When he had sat up and checked his surroundings, he noticed your look.

“Is there a problem or something on my face?” he asked.

“Were you trying to steal from them?” you asked back. “Didn’t go as planned, did it?”

“Were you not?” he replied. “My highness, we’re in the same situation, so don’t you try to aggravate me out of tediousness.”

“Don’t you mock me, or you’ll receive the same response as the guard did,” you threatened. “And you are very wrong. You are going to be brought to the castle and thrown into a prison. I will escape.”

“Is that so?” he asked. “I see you’re making great progress with getting out of these ropes. You better hurry, or I’ll get away before you do. I can carry a lot in my pockets.”

You huffed.

“The diamonds are mine,” you stated, matter-of-fact.

“Whoever gets out first will have them,” he replied. “I’m betting on myself.”

“God…could you not have chosen a different day to steal from the royals?” you asked, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was your highness’ turn today,” he said, and his smile was taunting and cocky at the same time.

“I told you to stop calling me that!” you hissed, one second from collecting your saliva in your mouth.

“What do you prefer then?” he asked. His smirk made you wonder whether he was contemplating to suggest some more stupid pet names for you. He better not, you thought.

“I don’t know…what about my name?” you said. “It’s Y/N.”

“All right, Y/N,” he said. “And would you consider sitting on death row one of the more entertaining parts of your job? Are you used to it?”

If only looks could kill, he’d be torn to shreds.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been caught,” you said. “But judging by how lightly you’re taking this, you must spend more time in jail than outside of it.”

“What can I say? The guards love me,” he said. “But didn’t they teach you to be honest? I don’t believe you. Or maybe you were a coward for so long and this is your first time actually trying to steal. What’s the truth, sweetheart?”

There was nothing you despised like people who underestimated you. And with that, you spat in his face and turned away from him. Know-it-alls weren’t going to be granted a second of your attention.

“Hey, talk to me,” he said. “We’ll be here for another while, so we might as well become friends.”

“Missed your chance,” you said. And it was the last thing you said to him for a long time. Even when he tried so hard to lure you back into a conversation. You knew if you gave in, he’d never learn.

“My name is H/N, by the way. Oh, that’s right. You don’t care. I forgot,” he said. And he was right.

Having to rot away by yourself in the back of a carriage was already exhilarating enough. But rotting away in the back of a carriage while an irritating young man filled your head with stupid stories you could care less about? It made hell sound inviting. Even when the guards had set up their camp for the night, he occasionally tried to get you back into conversation. Because you had slept throughout the day, you knew you’d be awake until the early morning hours, a fact that only made your situation more unbearable.

Your ears picked up the crackling of the wood as the bonfire fed on it next to the wagon. Suddenly, a guard pulled aside the curtain. Without a word, he slid a plate with a piece of bread and a bowl with some water inside and left.

“This is going to be hard to eat with my hands on my back!” the young thief in front of you shouted, but the guard only laughed.

“Nice try,” you said, eyeing the food.

“Oh, she speaks after all,” he said. “And at least one of us is trying.”

“If I had one coin for every time you’ve provoked me since we met, I could buy my freedom,” you said. And again, he was in the wrong. Obviously, you had tried hard to figure out a way to get out of the restraints digging into your skin. If only you had a sharp object or –

“Are you gonna eat that?” he asked, pointing his head at the bread. He was willing to share, at least.

“I’ll bite off half and you get the other side,” you announced and bent your head down to the plate.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, shoving you out of the way so you tumbled onto your side with a huff of surprise.

“What the fuck is your issue?” you asked, regaining you posture.

“I’m taking the first bite,” he said. “I don’t know where your mouth has been.”

“I’ll show you where my mouth is,” you snapped. The next moment you tackled him, teeth digging into his shoulder. He groaned in pain, ferociously pushing you off him. His foot hit your thigh and you realized if you had any chance of getting away, an injured leg wouldn’t make it easier. So, you trudged away slightly.

“Are you out of your mind? Did you just really fucking bite me?” he growled.

“Go ahead, eat your damned bread,” you snarled. With a sulky sigh, you leaned back against the chest behind you, shut your eyes and tried to keep your fury in check.

You sat that way for an hour, maybe a few. With time, the roaring laughter from outside had died down. It must have been the middle of the night when you opened your eyes again. The silence let you conclude that your fellow captive had fallen asleep. Finally, you bent down to where you suspected the water bowl to be and took a few gulps. Only now you realized just how empty your stomach was. But your nose picked up something. Bread. In the darkness, you could hardly make out the half of the piece he had left for you. His humble act redacted your opinion of him from 100 to 98% dickhead. Like a starved animal, you gobbled the food. When you took your place against the chest once more, even you managed to snooze off into a much needed rest.

When the carriage steered through a pothole it shook you out of your slumber. Surprisingly, it was completely bright outside.

“You’re just on time,” the young thief across from you announced. “We’re about to arrive at the castle.”

He hadn’t woken you up. Maybe he had earned a few more sympathy points – with emphasis on a few. Only twenty minutes later, you were lead trough the cold halls of some dark part of the castle, down into the dungeon. While the guards dragged you around, even your loudmouth shut. This was new territory and made you slightly nervous. Were you going to make it out of here? So far, nothing was decided. You dearly prayed the king would be in a fantastic mood when he convicted you.

Your whole body was sore from the hours of sitting in the same position on the hard wood of the wagon, so you almost welcomed being shoved through the uninviting halls. One of the guards cut the remaining ropes from your hands, before pushing you into a cell. Much to your dismay, your fellow wagon inmate would also join you in this prison.

“The king will tend to you lowlives when he has time,” the guard said. The loud metallic clash of the prison bars closing and the lock sliding in place sounded like your demise. Your eyes followed the guard’s figure helplessly, until he had disappeared down the dark hallway. A slam of a door indicated that he was gone. Like a nervous animal, you paced from one wall to the other over and over. Your arms were crossed in front of your body and you were trying hard not to have a nervous breakdown. You needed your brain for more vital things right now – like contriving a plan to escape this hellhole before you could be sentenced to death.

“Would you sit down, goddammit!” the young man remarked. He was leaning against the back wall of the cell, eyeing you closely. “I need to think!”

“Do you think I don’t?” you replied. The moment of panic in your voice was short-lived, but he probably noticed it either way.

“I can’t focus if you’re losing it in front of me,” he said. “If you’re already processing your inevitable death, that’s cool with me. But I’m still planning on getting out of here, so please try to process in silence.”

Your nostrils flared in anger and you clenched your hands to fists by your sides.

“You idiot!” you said. “If you hadn’t done everything in your power to make me despise you right when we met, we could have tried to flee together.”

“Last time I checked, you were the one biting me for having a sense of personal hygiene,” he fired back. “We’re stuck in here. But get it together, we’re not on death row yet.”

In disbelief you stared at him, your irritation almost drowning out the restless pounding inside your head. He held his chin high as if to challenge you. And you could have gone for it. Down here in this cold, forlorn dungeon no one would hinder you from fighting each other. No, you knew for a fact that not a single soul in this castle gave one last damn about whether you lived or died. But you were completely drained. After all the sleep you had gotten, you should have been wide awake, and maybe your body was – but your mind was in the middle of shutting down. So, even though it hurt your pride, you stopped your uneasy walking and mirrored his behavior on another wall. Arms crossed and eyebrows furrowing, you kept your eyes on the ground. Maybe he was right. Giving up wasn’t characteristic for you, so why was your head spinning from dread?

In desperate search of some sort of hope, you caught glimpse of his rather relaxed stance. If he could keep up a calm front, maybe you could too. Luckily, he wasn’t looking at you, and not noticing how you drew strength from his so simple but enheartening behavior.

Three days into your stay in the dungeon, you had found a daily rhythm. Your mornings consisted of pretending to be asleep for as long as you possibly could, then holding yourself back from attacking your beloved cellmate because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut for more than five minutes. By midday your arguments had usually turned into playful bickering, because you couldn’t cope with being angry all the time. And frankly, you were bored. Even though standing his endless interrogations about your life was exhilarating, it was still better than losing sense of time and in the process also losing your sanity. Late, when darkness had fallen upon the land, a guard delivered a small ration of food for both of you. This was the part where your bickering morphed back into serious conflicts. If you were going to live on tiny amounts of food, you wouldn’t settle for the smaller ration of the two.

The fourth day was different. When you first reached consciousness, you heard nothing. Usually, he was already awake, noticing like a stalker when you awoke, only to tease you from the moment you woke up. But that day, you opened your eyes to a seemingly empty cell. Until you spotted him in the corner. His body was shaking, and his tiny, husky cough concerned you further.

“H/N?” you asked quietly. Considering the amount of loathing you’d thought you held for him, you sure worried an unnormal amount. But it wasn’t the mere thought of him being ill that concerned you most. It was the idea of having to suffer in the dark, murky dungeon all alone, day to day, until you’d have to face the king, who likely wanted you dead for your crimes. An ice-cold fear crept over you. You didn’t want to – no, you couldn’t – die lonely. Even if he was the last person you could have wished to be thrown into prison with, he was still company. This loathsome cell, the horrors of the near future, the neverending progression of time and the uncertainty that came with it – it all terrified you to the bone. Only now you realized just how much comfort he gave you, all by existing in the same space as you.

Carefully, you approached him. He wasn’t answering you, and he never not answered you. It was a heartbreaking sight. He was curled up in a fetal position, hands clenched to fists on his chest. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his forehead. Whether he liked it or not, you sat down with him. Gently, you reached for his forehead. A second was enough to determine he was burning up.

“Get off me,” he said, slapping your hand away. His voice was so frail.

“Hush. Let me help you,” you insisted. He huffed in annoyance.

“Are you a doctor when you’re not a thief?” he asked.

“No. But improving your mentality will help your body recover faster,” you said. “And you seem to be in a very negative headspace right now.”

His mouth opened to speak, but then a shiver rippled through his body and he wrapped his arms around his knees tightly. All this time, he hadn’t even opened his eyes.

“We need to keep you cool,” you said. “Take off your jacket.”

“This isn’t the time to ask me to take off my clothes,” he said, almost whispered.

“Will you just do as I say so you can get better? Do you want to die in here?” you said, brushing off his words. Something flashed across his face. Fear? Disappointment? Aware that it could invade his comfort zone, you very carefully took his hands. Lucky for you, he let you. When his jacket came off, you noticed the sweat stains that had formed on his thin shirt.

“You can lie down on this, it’ll be more comfortable,” you advised. Without arguing, he followed your instructions and allowed you to spread out the jacket underneath him. This behavior was new, you thought. But you could surely get used it. You knew it must have been serious, if he didn’t give you a silly remark for everything you said.

“I’ll get you more water,” you said, as you retrieved the almost empty water bowl from the center of the stone floor. Set on not spilling a drop, you lifted it to his lips and watched as he swallowed the last few sips. You used the sleeve of your shirt to wipe his wet hair out of his face, as he sunk back down onto the hard ground.

“Sleep now,” you said. You didn’t need to tell him twice. He had been almost unable to keep his eyelids open, so without hesitation, he drifted off into dreamland. For hours, you sat, hugging your knees to your chest, eyes on his anguished figure. Just as you had thought you could deal with the scary ordeal of being held captive in a castle dungeon, this had to happen. Stricken with sorrow, you waited for time to pass. If only you could have slept too, it would have made all the anxious thoughts go away. But someone had to look after him, and you weren’t tired.

His slumber must had been a hag-ridden one. Sometimes, he made small sounds, like whimpers, other times his brows furrowed, and his muscles flexed from whichever terror it was that haunted him in his head.

“Shh, you’re going to be okay,” you assured him, and maybe also yourself. But his tireless stirring only became worse, his body twisting and turning on the uneven ground. He groaned in agony, and your heart clenched like a million little daggers had slashed it.

“I’m here to keep you safe,” you whispered, bending down to his level. With utmost care, you lifted his head and let him rest in your lap. You weren’t really planning what was happening, but your hands found his hands. Softly, you stroked them, waiting for him to calm down and relax his tight fists. His mumbles and quiet moans of distress continued, until you realized. He was trying to tell you something.

“I can’t go like this,” he said.

“You’re not go-“ you started.

“No! My- parents need- me,” he stuttered. By now he was grasping your hands desperately. You sighed and his eyes opened ever so slightly. The anger he had held for you was vanished. You almost teared up at the delicateness of his gaze.

“I need to help them... they’re old and sick and can’t be alone,” he added in a small voice.

“We will get out of here,” you said. You had no idea when there had first been a ‘we’, but now there apparently was. “You have to be strong now, do you hear? Then you can meet your parents again.”

He was looking almost through you. His eyes were so dark, it was like staring right into the deepest part of the ocean. You stroked the back of his hand with your thumb, whilst trying hard to keep a hopeful gaze. For him, you had to appear strong. Or else, how else was he supposed to be?

“I’m sorry- I was such an asshole to you,” he suddenly confessed. “I thought you would steal away the gold before I could. And now look where that brought us.”

“This isn’t your fault. We were both being reckless,” you said. “I’m sorry I bit you. And threatened to spit on your face. And then spat on your face.”

The tiniest smile spread on his face. Success. Any sort of positive emotion could help him now.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he whispered. “I’ll think about whether I can forgive you. You must know, I’m very vindictive.”

His grin was playful, and his eyes were closed, as if he was on the brink of falling back to sleep.

“Forgiveness hurts less than holding a grudge for the rest of your life,” you said. Who knew? Maybe even the king could show remission. All you knew was that you would crumble, would you have to encounter the king alone. Your brain had set on the need for H/N. For years, you hadn’t formed any meaningful relationships – not counting your bond with your ardently loved horse. Now, with his head on your lap and your fingers intertwined with his, you ached for more. Was it really him you wanted? Or had you denied yourself of any affection for such a long time, the smallest contact with anyone appeased your yearning? Would you have felt the same, if it had been somebody else in his place?

At night, the metal noise of the door at the far end of the hallway outside your cell made you lift your head. Gently, so that H/N wouldn’t be awoken, you lifted his head to lay on the jacket instead of your thigh. In impatience, your foot tapped on the ground while you stood in the middle of the cell.

“Sir,” you called the guard with a fake-soft voice. “Will it be possible to receive another cup with water? My fellow inmate has fallen sick.”

The grumpy guard unlocked the metal bars, entering with the usual small ration of food and drink.

“What does it matter if he dies now or by command of the king? Do you think I care?” he growled, not sparing you a glance. You had been almost convinced this would have happened. So, you’d have to resort to different measures.

“Please-“ you begged, suddenly stepping towards the guard, who was on his way out of the cell. Without second thought, you threw yourself onto him, making sure to look extra-devastated and helpless. What could a weak, little young woman do to a guard, other than fall on her knees, right?

“Touch me once more and you’re dead, too, bitch!” he barked. One quick move of your skilled fingers and you eagerly backed off, hands hiding behind your back.

“Sorry, sir!” you said, lowering your head in false shame and guilt. “Please consider my request.”

All he gave you was a grunt of disapproval and he stomped out of the cell, the lock falling into place in a loud crash. Feigning inferiority and intimidation, you didn’t dare move until he was out of the dungeon. Then, you spun to the young man behind you on the ground.

“Open up,” you commanded, suspecting the shouting could not have kept him asleep. Finally, you could pull the flask you had stolen from the guard from behind your back. It seemed to be almost filled to the brim, too. Perfect. He did as he was told, and you let some of the water spill into his mouth.

“I take back what I said in the carriage,” he confessed. “Only full-time thieves have a sleight of hand like yours.”

“It was my pleasure proving you wrong,” you said. “Now, drink up.”

That night, you let him have the full ration of food. For at least ten minutes, he refused to have all of it. But you were stubborn and even though he hadn’t known you for long, he knew that much about you. If you wanted to escape with him, he would need to be fit to run. You had deemed your chances small to begin with, but in his state, you estimated them close to zero. After you had emptied the guard’s flask, you reached through the prison bars and tossed the item as far away from the cell as you could. He should never assume you’d had anything to do with its disappearance. The next day, a different guard would find it there, and bring it back to him under the assumption that he had carelessly dropped it.

Two days passed by. In the first night of the two, you had to comfort him through another few nightmares. During the day, he was sleepy, but had enough energy to have a little conversation with you now and then – something you read as a good sign. The second night, you were able to sleep all the way through, and when you checked his forehead in the morning, it had cooled down a little. On the second day, he had regained his strength enough to be able to sit, leaning against your shoulder.

“Will you stop moving? My head’s pounding,” he said.

“Your complaints make me wonder if you’re doing well now,” you asked, smirking.

“Like I said…my head’s killing me,” he repeated.

“Drink the rest of the water,” you suggested. “I think it’s almost evening. The guard will bring a new bowl soon.”

“It’s your turn to eat tonight,” he stated.

“We’re sharing,” you said. Lucky for him, he didn’t fight back. You wouldn’t have cooperated, either way.

“It’s time to make a plan now, if we want to get out of here. What do you say?” you asked. When he lifted his head, you looked over at him. The color was back in his face, the beads of sweat nonexistent and his cheeky smile bright as ever.

“I wonder…about what your little magic hands did to that guard’s flask…could they do the same with his keys?” he suggested. The way you mirrored his mischievous grin, he knew you agreed. But it would be trickier, this time. From days worth of observation, you had learned that the guards behaved differently. Some adamantly made sure the keys remained in their clenched fists – an instance you couldn’t work with at all – while others preferred to leave them in the lock by the door. You knew you’d never get close enough to even attempt to steal them from there. What you needed was the careless type of guard. The one who snuck the keys into their pockets or left them hanging on their clothes by the keyring. All it took now was to wait and hope the king would keep you locked away for long enough to give you a chance to flee.

That night, luck wasn’t on your side. The guard kept his hands on his keys as if they were his most precious possession.

“Do we really have to go over this again? I told you your pacing is driving me insane,” he said. It was midday of the following day, and you were deep in thought – or you had been – until he had to interrupt you.

“What do you expect me to do? We’re jailed like animals,” you countered. “I can’t stand around like you all day.”

When you saw him open his mouth, you read in his expression what he was about to do. It was his bickering face.

“If there’s one thing I’m not in the mood for currently, it’s getting lectured by you over nothing. Come up with a topic of conversation, please,” you said before he could speak. His smirk concerned you.

“What are you in the mood for, then?” he asked with raised eyebrows. Your death glare said more than a thousand words. “Fine, here’s a conversation topic…let me think…why are you not married?”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” you said in the most impassive tone you could muster.

“Oh, alright, if that’s not good enough, I’ll go back to flirting,” he said. The steps he was taking towards you made your brain activate fight mode.

“I’ve never met a man good enough for marriage,” you said.

“And what qualifies a man to be good enough for you?”

“Hm…where do I begin? I’m not a good cook, nor do I enjoy being a maid, nor do I know how to take care of children. Most men want those things in a woman.”

“You took pretty good care of me, didn’t you? But why waste your thieving talent on running a household?” he said.

“That’s where the issue lays. Men don’t favor women who sneak around the village at night and make their own money from being a criminal.”

“Nothing wrong with being a criminal,” he went on.

You laughed out loud.

“You know what? I like it this way. Why settle for staying with one man who might turn out to be a monster, when I can have them all for a night?” you said.

“Well, right now you’re not having anyone.”

“Seems like that’s bothering you more than it bothers me,” you replied in a feisty tone. If you didn’t call him out for the flirting, who would? Although you had to admit, you greatly preferred being courted to his unnerving teasing.

“Why would that bother me?” he asked. “You hate me, don’t you?”

He was right in front of you now, tilting his head and giving you a smirk that made you consider biting him again. And at the same time, something in your body – not your head – wanted to close the small distance between you two.

“If I hated you, I would have let you die,” you said.

“I assumed you kept me alive because you need me to get out of here.”

Now you had another reason to get up in his face. You gripped him by the collar, looking into his eyes.

“Excuse me? You think I wouldn’t be able to escape by myself? If you’re only trying to rile me up, you better let me know, because I already told you I can’t stand to be underestimated,” you said.

“Alright,” he rose his arms in defeat. “After your little stunt with the guard I’m actually pretty glad I have you in here with me. Honestly, I don’t think I’d get out without you.”

“Was that so hard to spit out?” you said, self-accomplished.

“No. But you only come close to me when you’re mad or worried,” he said. By now, his eye contact was captivating in the most confusing way possible. His eyes occasionally skipped to your lips. “And since I’m not sick anymore, I had to opt for the former.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you said. Unbelievably handsome, your brain added. And yes, maybe he was. Perhaps it wasn’t so much his beautiful face, but the way he spoke, understanding, even encouraging your lifestyle. You had just forced him to be honest with you. So, maybe it was time to stop holding back the truth from yourself, too.

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked. It’s time to give in, you told yourself. Therefore, rather than telling him, you showed him. With a sudden rush of hunger, your lips crashed against his. Momentarily, he seemed taken aback and let out a surprised groan. But within seconds he caught himself, hands grabbing your sides desperately. You thought addictions needed more time to develop, but the feeling of his mellow lips on yours already seemed like one to you.

You had never kissed anyone who had truly made you feel things. Now, your knees were weak in an instant when his tongue grazed yours only for a moment. After so much arguing, it was hard to believe your hands clasping the fabric of his shirt couldn’t be a product of you cursing him but derived from mere want. The way he claimed your mouth silenced even your most invasive thoughts. It was a serenity you had wished for ever since you had gotten caught a few days ago. A moment to breathe freely, make whichever noises you desired and be as close to him as you could.

You pulled him along, stumbling backwards until you hit the cold stone behind you. Being trapped in a dungeon was horrific – but being trapped between his body and the wall left you feeling safer than you had felt in a long, long time.

But the peace didn’t last long. You suddenly heard the all too familiar metal noise from the distance. Alarmed, you sprung apart. As the unexpecting guard walked down the dark hallway, you smoothed out your clothing hastily.

“Congratulations! Your time in here will be over. Tomorrow the king will see you,” the guard announced. You shot your fellow inmate an alerted gaze, which he returned. Silently, he nodded at you. It was time to do something. The guard was now opening the door, bringing inside your food. His key was in his hands – this was going to be an issue. He set the plate down in the front of the room, and was in the process of spinning around, when H/N spoke.

“Sir, may I attract you to a magic trick?” he asked the guard. “I have been practicing it for so long, and it would be a shame if I had to die before I could ever present it.”

“Go to hell,” the guard said.

“I have a coin here,” H/N added. The guard raised his head. “If you win, you get to keep it.”

“Give it to me,” the annoyed man said.

“That’s not how it works. First, I will need both of your hands,” H/N explained. You smiled slightly when the guard sighed. He complied, letting his keys disappear into his oversized pocket. Retrieving them would be child’s play for you.

“Stick up your hands ahead of you. And keep your eyes locked on the coin. Be quick, or you’ll lose it,” H/N said in his dramatic voice. As he lifted his own hand with the coin in it, the guard followed and looked upwards. This was your time. Like a cat, you tip-toed around the guard’s back, not even paying attention to what H/N was doing anymore. Ever so swiftly, your hand slid into his pocket, fingers closing around the chill metal. As quickly as you had approached him, you stepped away, the key sliding into your sleeve and out of sight.

“Incorrect!” H/N called. “But you know what? I will grant you the coin either way. By tomorrow, I might not need it any longer.”

The guard even went so far as to laugh – even if it was a gloating sort of laughter. The only thing left to do now was hope he wouldn’t discover his missing key. But luck was on your side. Without another word, the man stepped out of the cell, shut the door, and walked off. The tune he whistled became smaller and smaller, until it faded out completely.

“Guess who’s getting out of here?” you asked, triumphantly revealing the key.

“You did it!” he exclaimed. You weren’t sure whether it was a spur of the moment decision, or maybe he was just too ecstatic to stop himself, but he flung his arms around your frame and squeezed you tightly.

“Hey, hey, you can’t crush me so close to my escape,” you laughed.

“Our escape,” he smiled. “We need to act fast. He could notice the missing key any second.”

Nodding eagerly, you grabbed half of the bread and downed half of the water bowl. You weren’t going to leave that behind. After all, you never knew when your next meal would be.

“If we make it to the stables, we can get a horse,” he announced. “I saw them on our way here. They’re to the west. The sun should be setting now, if my sense of time is still correct. Let’s hurry, or else we’ll be out of directions.”

“Dorato!” you exclaimed. “They took my horse!”

“The black horse that was tied to the carriage when we came here? I saw him,” he noted. You nodded, swearing you would leave here without Dorato only over your dead body.

Ten minutes later you had successfully exited the cell and approached the door at the end of the hallway.

“Out there it’s on both of us to keep running, okay?” you whispered.

He only nodded. “Towards the setting sun.”

The second you had slipped past the door you were spotted by a maid.

“Prisoners!” she yelled. Your plan to slip away unnoticed had gone down the drain quickly. With one last glance at the young man next to you, you both took off. The way out of the castle was still burned into your brain from when you had been brought inside. Back then, you had already planned to get out, so you had payed an extra amount of attention. When you reached a turn, you barely had time to think about the right way. By now, two guards were after you and you were forced to trust your intuition. H/N was a little ahead of you. The sudden exercise after being refined to a tiny cell for so long made your chest burn in exhaustion after only such a short while. But the adrenaline drowned it all out easily.

You knew you had to be close to the outside, it was a feeling. But then, all of a sudden, a guard cut off your path in front of you. H/N was racing far ahead, so that he could get away. You, on the other hand, had no time to overthink your actions. Before the guard could catch you, you had ducked under his outstretched arms. Now, sprinting down an unfamiliar corridor over the marble flooring, your sense of direction was gone, but your will to survive vigorous as ever.

For minutes you ran, collecting a horde of guards behind you the longer you kept going. When you turned a corner, you were greeted by another long corridor. Only this time, it was a dead end. Nevertheless, you kept up the speed. What else could you have done? By now, your calves felt like they were on fire, breath coming in short gasps. You suddenly took notice of the precious paintings and statues that adorned the hallway. Maybe this was the answer.

Without slowing down, you took hold of a stone vase. Just for a moment, you gathered all your might. Then, you dashed it forward, against the window at the very end of the corridor. Your body followed shortly after, but it was enough time for the glass to shatter before you. In a protective manner, you folded your arms over your chest and shut your eyes tightly as your figure flew through the opening.

When you had passed the window, your eyes opened, and you ducked. Soft grass caught your body as you rolled onto the ground. The impact knocked the air out of your lungs momentarily. But within seconds you were back on your feet. Aggressive shouts from behind you only motivated you to keep going. Faster. Just a little longer. Dawn had broken in, but the sky was still a bright blue to your left. That’s where you were headed. A market place close by acted as the perfect cover for a while. You barely had time to watch out, crashing into people’s shoulders and knocking over bowls and baskets. An enraged shout followed you, but you were already far gone.

And he had been right. Your nose picked up the scent of hay and animals. You had to be close. What if he wasn’t there? What if they caught you again? A short panic bubbled up inside of you. Stealing might could have been forgiven, but for your current deeds no king would let you live. The wooden stables were in sight by now.

You could barely breathe anymore, but something inside of you kept you up and going nonetheless. Every breath burned as you entered, stalls of horses and other animals to your left and right. But no sight of H/N. Nor of your horse. Did he leave without you? Had he assumed you had been caught and tried to save his own life, at least? Your head spun as you scanned the animals one last time. Then, the men’s deep shouts caught up with you. You needed to get out, or else this stable would turn into a trap.

When your feet hit the cobblestone outside, you spotted the mob of angered men and women coming at you. They were holding spears, torches and pitchforks and were livid.

“Y/N!” someone suddenly yelled from your right. The sound of his voice had never sounded better to you. He was on your horse, careering towards you. One last look at the furious crowd of peasants and guards, and then you only focused on him. Only a little more strength, and you could get out of here.

The second he was close enough to you, you started running again. Like you had done so many times, you hauled yourself onto Dorato behind him. Your hands caught his shirt and you pulled your body flush against him. You needed no words. Now, you only needed to trust your horse to get you out of here. Just for a moment, you closed your eyes in exhaustion and took a few, consciously deep breaths. In lightning speed, you raced across the grass and towards the archway out of the courtyard.

And you made it. He shouted in a boisterous tone, and while at first you laughed, you couldn’t help but join his happiness loudly.

~2 months later~

The rough bark of the tree was digging into your back, but you couldn’t have cared less. Not when he was all over you. Not when his scent was so intoxicating, and his busy hands made you forget about any other sensation on your skin. It took no time. You had escaped together, thinking it was your time to part ways after what you had gone through with him. Now, each day you hung on his every word and couldn’t even bear to be away from him for minutes at a time.

Not far from you, your two horses stood, grazing on the grass by their feet. Meanwhile, the two of you, supposed to be on the lookout for your next target, had found another occupation in the cover of the trees. The market close by wasn’t exactly your goal – it was the nobles who would arrive in their carriages like every weekend to spend time by the beautiful lake. While they had their picnics and gossiped about each other, there was enough time for you two check for some gifts to retrieve from their carriages.

You sighed happily as he kissed your neck ever so softly. In him, you hadn’t just found a partner in crime. He was your muse, your comfort and your home. His family was your new family and finally, you had someone to tell all your most unbridles stories and dreams to – someone who could actually reply, with no offense to your horse. Going out stealing was as exciting as hiding between the sheets with him. In such a short time, he had learned to read your face and knew every curve of your body like it was a part of himself, and you had no problem with that.

Suddenly, he pulled away. He looked over your shoulder, gaze changing from tranquil to fierce.

“There they come,” he announced. That moment, you heard the sounds too. Hooves and the crunch of gravel under wheels. Smiling in excitement, you turned to check the situation as well. But you had to be honest, he was much more entertaining to look at. Like in so many cases, you found yourself tied to his gorgeous features and the way his jaw clenched when he was plotting.

“Eyes on the prize, sweetheart,” he said, not peeling his look from the carriages.

“Don’t you know, I’ve already won the best prize there is in the world?” you asked, hearts in your eyes and a cheeky smile on your face.

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