Hey, Take It From Someone Creeping Towards 40:

Look at the moon!

My Girl (Chapter 6 - Baldur's Gate 3 fanfiction)

I've made it my personal mission to brighten up everyone's Mondays with a little bit of fluff. And this one is REALLY fluffy. If Lae'zel saw how soft I've made her in this one, she'd kick my ass. Enjoy!

Ship: Shadowzel

WC: 1,291

Warnings: None (unless mentions of unborn children count)

Istik life has definitely taken a toll on her, Lae'zel thinks as she takes a walk around the yard of Crèche Zav'rai. How was she able to grow up in such an environment with her sanity intact? Even though this place is a lot less strict than K'liir ever was, it feels unbelievably oppressive. Not a single moment to be on her own. Being a stranger doesn't help. While she assumes most members are used to her presence, she can't shake the impression that she's being constantly watched and judged. While she washes herself in the communal baths with young students. While she eats in the tiny canteen packed with loud, unruly children who are forever attacking each other with food projectiles. While she goes out to get some fresh air as the aspiring soldiers train. One day, out of sheer boredom, she asked the sa'varsh to let her practice with them; she can't recall a more frustrating experience in her life. She's positively out of practice.

According to the ghustil, she's only been there for nine days, but it seems like a hundred years. It's hard to keep track of time after spending most of it drifting in and out of sleep, high on whatever painkilling potions they were giving her. Since they decided she was healthy enough not to need them and allowed to leave Am'aari's office, her stay in the crèche has been extremely tedious except for the very few times Shadowheart has come to see her. She's still working her two jobs and taking care of the house and the cats, which doesn't leave her with many hours in her hands. Besides, now that night falls earlier, the streets of Baldur's Gate are not safe for a woman by herself; no matter if said woman is adept in radiant magic and knows how to use maces and daggers.

Tsk'va, she can't wait for that godsdamned egg to hatch already.

Looks like, in the end, it's only one baby. Good. Last time she visited, Shadowheart asked her if she was sad about the other two she gave birth to. She isn't. From her reads about the differences between her people's pregnancies and other races', the bond between an istik mother and her child is formed much earlier, already in the womb. Some experts theorize that this is due to the absence of eggs, which make it possible to sense the child's movements and heartbeat. Moreover, Lae'zel is aware that she and Shadowheart are not equipped to raise more than one hatchling.

She sits on the steps of the main entrance and winces, rubbing her breasts. They are fuller than ever, and strangely sensitive. There's a dull, yet persistent pain in them from producing milk. Her whole body is heavier, her endurance and nimbleness considerably lower than they used to be. She needs to start exercising soon, to get back in shape. Yet for the first time in her life, she's too self-conscious to train in front of the other gith.

It's cold outside. She should have put on that borrowed cloak, but wearing clothes that reek of someone else makes her nauseous, and that one is particularly strong. Or perhaps her senses are excessively sharpened. She embraces herself; her skin, too, has become more vulnerable to the ever-changing Faerûnian weather.

“Jhe'stil?” a high-pitched voice behind her calls.

It takes her a moment to realize they're addressing her. She turns around to face a young githzerai and nods for them to speak.

“Ghustil Am'aari sends me,” the youth says. “Your presence is required in the infirmary.”

In the infirmary? She's already been checked up today. What could they possibly need from her? Irrelevant. She rises and follows the child.

“Did she tell you what I am needed for?” she questions.

“Something happened in the hatchery, I believe.”

The hatchery! Lae'zel's heart misses a beat. Has the egg finally cracked open? Or has anything happened to her child?

Her chest tight with trepidation, she enters the ghustil's office without knocking.

All the blood in her veins begins flowing again when she notices that familiar blanket in the healer's arms. Shadowheart brought it the very first time she visited. Holding onto it every night before falling asleep has been more comforting than Lae'zel will ever dare to admit; the only familiar scent in this strange place.

“This is your daughter,” Am'aari tells her. “All cleaned and checked up.”

The weight of that tiny bundle alone is enough for Lae'zel to feel overcome with emotion. And as soon as she looks down, a symphony explodes inside her. Her baby is completely hairless, with skin the same chartreuse color as hers, dark freckles painting her cheeks. She hasn't opened her eyes completely, but those clumsy hands, balled into small fists, grope the air, as though wanting to touch and explore the whole world.

She's perfect.

Never before has Lae'zel seen anything that beautiful. Not the most picturesque sunrise. Not the sea of stars from the back of a red dragon. Not even Shadowheart's smile.

Finally, she understands what Emmeline, Exxvikyap, Isobel and all the other mothers she knows were talking about. The urge to protect such a helpless creature, to hold her and never let go. The incredulity that she created such a precious being. The feeling of seeing a part of her own soul reflected back at her.

The rush of love is so intense she could burst into tears.

“We have called for your partner,” the ghustil says. “My apprentice has been sent to inform her.”

Shadowheart will be here soon. They'll finally be able to go home.

To take her home.

From Lae'zel's point of view, time stops. Everything around her fades away. All she can see is that cute face, that minuscule body expanding with every breath. She traces the apple of her cheek with her fingertips, marveling at the softness. Gingerly, she removes the part of the blanket that's covering the child's head and kisses it. Her nostrils widen, catching the mesmerizing scent of her skin.

She smells like home. Like life. Like all that's pure and beautiful in the world.

And to think that she didn't believe in love until she fell for Shadowheart. This is even stronger, brighter. A warm, blinding light with the force of a thousand suns.

When Shadowheart arrives, she doesn't know how long she has spent there, sitting on one of the infirmary beds with the little one on her lap. Only when she – reluctantly – lets her wife take the baby from her arms does she notice how sore and numb she is. An adorable sound escapes Shadowheart's mouth as she takes in the sight of their newborn daughter.

“She's so beautiful!” Shadowheart coos. “Have you thought on a name?”

Quite honestly, Lae'zel hasn't. She did have a lot of time to think during those long days of waiting, but it seems as though any of those ideas have vanished from her mind.

“No,” she admits. “But I have thought that we could give her an elvish name. Or a human name. Something of your choice.”

“Hmm. I'm not sure about that.” Shadowheart bites her lip. “She looks so much like you! And she carries my family name, anyway. It'd be a crime not to give her a gith name.”

“Chk. I will not give her my name. We will not become like one of those istik families in which every member is called the same.”

“Agreed. I didn't mean that, of course. Aren't there any gith names that have a special meaning to you?”

How is she supposed to find only one word to describe someone that means the whole world to her? None of them would do her justice.

the title of the last song you listened to is the epitaph on your tombstone

Why are you not real? lol

my dream as a fanfic writer is for one day, one of my fics to be someones comfort fic. like the fic that they reread when they don't feel good and want to be happy. i want my words to comfort someone one day

Not a gaming post; I just love H. neanderthalensis more than anything. I’d like to think there was a functional purpose for their occipital bun such as supporting their thick shoulder and neck muscles for spear and atlatl throwing. But what do I know?

The thing is that the portrayal of Neanderthals as having been inherently grotesque and alien to H. sapiens is something we will never have proof of. But we do have proof that, in different locations and in different populations across time, we all found eachother desirable. We saw eachother and wanted to touch. And the offspring were held by their mothers and raised and had their own offspring in turn.

When you look for the first proof that H. sapiens found Neanderthals repulsive, you have to wait until the Victorian era, when the white masters of empires were busy portraying Neanderthals as stupid, brutish, and (of course) dark-skinned.

In more modern times, we’ve had people arguing that instead of seeing Neanderthals as Benighted Savages, they should instead be seen as Noble Savages, (allegedly) cruelly destroyed and driven from their lands by H. sapiens. Which one of their two you believe says more about your modern political views than it does about ancient H. sapiens.

And, whether we construct Neanderthals as Savage or Noble Savage, the fundamental assumption we project into the unfathomably distant past is still that H. sapiens saw Neanderthals as an Other, with the language we use being almost explicitly that of modern racial dynamics.

But we have no proof of any of that. We have no proof of hostilities. We know we co-existed and we had sex. That’s it.

Humans obviously have sex with some humans and kill others. We also know that, when small groups of humans occupy vast spaces with infrequent contact with others, unique cultures will always form, some more hospitable, some more neophobic/xenophobic. But many cultures of small settlements placed among huge unpeopled landscapes place supreme emphasis on hospitality to strangers. Plus, we fucking love other social animals, as evidenced by how we befriended wolves.

I’m a humourless weirdo and a wet blanket about popular constructions of Neanderthals as “monstrous”, and I freely admit it. But that’s because it’s tied up in legacies of imperialism. Not only that, but it also privileges one culture (yours, mine, modernity’s) as being most human by implicitly assuming we can project it onto people in the past. Since you don’t pretend that all global cultures share exact same values as you do, it doesn’t take more than a few moments’ reflection to realise you can’t do that to the past.

reblog this if your icon could kill a man

we all got that one mutual that we’re lowkey studying

Headcanon!

Bowling headcanon that no one asked for (in addition to the one I did about hockey)

Tav: arranges every single game because they’re the only responsible one; is very good at bowling and owns their own ball, shoes, bag, and towel; somehow never gets a turkey but can hit a 7-10 split

Durge: tries to stab someone when they roll a gutter ball; has to rent shoes; spends the night pretending to sacrifice the pins to Bhaal

Karlach: very good at bowling, but doesn’t take it seriously; tends to order pitchers of beer and gets too drunk to throw the ball down her own lane

Lae’zel: also very good at bowling, but takes the game way too seriously; has her own ball, shoes, bag, towel, and embroidered bowling shirt (Shadowheart embroidered it for her)

Shadowheart (Selûnite): doesn’t bowl, but does like the little claw machine game in the arcade area where she can win owlbear stuffies; cheers on Lae’zel from the spectator area when she’s done playing in the arcade

Shadowheart (Dark Justiciar): what is bowling and who the fuck are these people?

Astarion: much like with hockey, won’t play because he might break a nail (also because even the children’s balls are too heavy for him); spends the whole time gossiping with Jaheira, Shadowheart, and Isobel in the spectator area; tries to convince them to leave and get tacos and margaritas instead because bowling is “droll”

Wyll: very good at bowling and takes it only an inch less serious than Lae’zel; also has his own towel, shirt, bag, shoes, and ball

Gale: spends the entire time “educating” everyone on the historical beginnings of the game and how it has evolved over time; uses magic to cheat because he usually spins gutter balls

Halsin: excellent at bowling; brought the game to the Emerald Grove; is as serious as Wyll and loves it when he gets a turkey (he makes a gobble-gobble noise every time)

Minthara: “IN MENZOBERRANZAN THE MALES RESET THE PINS” (she’s yelling because she and Karlach are having a drinking contest that only Minthara knows about); is surprisingly good at bowling when she’s not sloshed; owns her own ball and shoes, but NOT because she likes the game (she does, but would rather die than admit it)

Jaheira: very good at bowling, but doesn’t play anymore because of arthritis; hangs out with Shadowheart in the spectator area above the pit and cheers on everyone

Minsc: Boo has to remind Minsc how to bowl, but once Minsc understands, he dominates; he also gets very drunk with Karlach

Dame Aylin: same with hockey, she was there when it was created and helped design the lanes; “HARK! THY LANES HATH MARKINGS UPON THEM THAT RESEMBLE MOON MOTES IN HONOR OF MY DIVINE MOTHER” (they’re just arrows and range markers, but don’t tell Aylin that); absolutely amazing at bowling; has her own gear that matches her armor perfectly

Isobel: doesn’t bowl, but comes to every single game to cheer on Dame Aylin and Dame Aylin only; sometimes sneaks off to the arcade with Shadowheart

Bonus -

Mizora: thinks the whole game is idiotic, but wants to be included; doesn’t bowl; spends the whole time making bets on who will get the highest score (but the bet is someone’s soul, cuz, yanno, Mizora)

Ketheric Thorm: very good at bowling - was on a league before his wife and Isobel died; spends the night trying to reconnect with Isobel by telling her “back in my day” stories (it doesn’t go well)

Orin: same as Durge, really, but with a dash more chaos; she also rents shoes but doesn’t wear socks

Gortash: greasy ass fry cook (I will not apologize)

consider lezzing out when the moment arrives