random idea: reggie can shapeshift into a dateable that the player got a hate route in and does this to just mess with the player or the dateable in question 💔😈
Rolan & chrysanthemums for Baldur's Flora - bg3 flower zine. I wanted to emphasizes the protection meaning for chrysanthemums by including a bit of Lia and Cal. It was so lovely drawing this piece for the zine and so excited to finally share it!
Or, the fey-touched bard who saved a city stays to help Jaheira rebuild and realizes that the nice young man she helped out of a tight spot at Danthelon’s is spending far more time dropping in at the High Harper’s house than strictly necessary.
Eddie and Volt learned to be good liars. They had to in order to keep the true state of the house’s electricity, and the faulty wire, hidden. And for so many years, lying was enough. But then you came along.
Volt’s interest in you was never a lie. You were a sight to behold from the moment you met, with a playful personality that meshed perfectly with his own. Despite telling you lies to keep you at arm’s length (and away from Eddie), he was genuinely interested in you. He meant, and thoroughly enjoyed, every flirtation, and found himself growing ever fonder of you each time you met. But he couldn’t involve you in the power situation, even though part of him wanted to.
Eddie’s growing approval of you was never a lie. He was honest about wanting nothing to do with you. Once you had wormed your way into doing maintenance with him, he was honest about your skill (and your occasional lack thereof). And once you had wormed your way into his circuits, he was honest with his actions, not his words. He couldn’t bring himself to say his feelings for you aloud. To confess would mean revealing the power situation, and he couldn’t do that, even though part of him wanted to.
The night of the reset, the two men had discussed letting you help, letting you in. They decided that they would soon…and then the universe decided soon meant now, and suddenly you had followed them into the back room through pitch black darkness and declared, voice caring yet determined, “No more lies.”
One of the memories of that night that lingers most in Eddie and Volt’s minds is of your eyes in that moment. They glinted in the dim glow emanating from Volt, the only light remaining in the Breaker Box. Your eyes shone with desperation, fear, and an element of heartbreak that left both men powerless in your gaze. They couldn’t lie to you anymore, even if they wanted to. Not when you looked at them like that.
After the reset, when things had calmed down and the three of you had a chance to discuss and solidify your relationship, you reiterated your stance: “No more lies.” You let them know you had been lied to before by past lovers, and you weren’t sure you could handle that kind of betrayal again. You knew why they had lied about the wire and the power, and you could understand it. But there would be no more lying to you ever again. They agreed.
That brings us to the present, where one thing has become clear: lying can be a hard habit to break. Especially if it’s being used as a coping or defense mechanism.
For Volt, lying is for defense, both of himself and of Eddie (but mostly Eddie). If he can distract objects with some charming lies, they’ll be less likely to go to Eddie with requests for power and therefore less likely to overload the faulty wire. But he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore, so he can stop lying.
For Eddie, lying is for coping. If he says he isn’t hurting, then maybe the words will translate to reality and his body really will stop hurting. The whole house depends on him; he can’t let the faulty wire keep him down. But he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore, so he can stop lying.
Knowing that they can stop does not necessarily make it easier to. They were lying for so long, it feels…difficult to be vulnerable. Sometimes, they slip up.
Once, you hadn’t been able to find Eddie at the Breaker Box all night. It had you worried. You approached Volt and asked him where your partner was. On instinct, he was dismissive, not even looking your way.
“You know how Eddie is, live wire! He doesn’t like the crowds. I’m sure he’ll be here to greet you after the show.” He finally met your gaze with a showman’s grin – and froze. That heartbreak was in your eyes again as you furrowed your eyebrows at him. He realized his mistake before you could even call him on it, and remedied it immediately.
“Sweet spark, my apologies. I wasn’t thinking. Eddie has a headache, so I told him to lay down for the night. I was so preoccupied, I forgot to tell you.” The forgiveness in the smile you gave him in return almost made his knees buckle.
Another time, you were helping Eddie wash glasses at the end of a busy evening at the bar. Once they were all dried and back on the shelves, he let you know he could take over from there and handle the rest himself. You asked if he was sure.
He wasn’t. He was exhausted. But he was on autopilot, denying all help just like he used to. You looked him over, spotting a few new cuts on his right hand and fresh dark circles under his eyes. He followed your gaze and put his hand in his pocket.
“You promised not to lie to me,” you said. Your voice was soft, just above a whisper, full of disappointment. Eddie’s eyes widened as you took a step back, away from him, retreating.
“Wait, I-” he rushed forward, taking hold of one of your hands and tugging you back to him, against his chest. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I’ve gotten so used to doing it all myself, I’m…I’m still getting used to accepting help.” The relief he felt when you nuzzled into the crook of his neck made his knees weak.
They aren’t perfect at letting their walls down, yet. It’s going to take time. But you are patient, and with each passing day Eddie and Volt reveal more of themselves to you.
absolutely dumbfounded that there was only one Mary/Caroline fic on ao3, so I wrote one and now I'm posting it to tumblr so I can tag @sleketon666 :))
title: pride and privilege
summary: Caroline Bingley thought she was good at making friends, until she tried to make one out of Mary Bennet.
(so far, it's just a slightly gayer rewrite of Caroline's thank-you scene).
https://archiveofourown.org/works/87838941
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
Caroline Bingley knew she was a catch, so it was extremely vexing when the two eligible gentlemen on their impromptu Scafell hike didn’t seem to agree, and instead fixated on Mary Bennet, of all people.
But as Caroline stood trembling in the pouring rain with her foot caught between two boulders, she didn’t feel like a catch. She felt infinitely small, and alone, and more frightened than she’d been in her entire life.
Then Miss Bennet rescued her. Caroline found herself lashing out even in the midst of her rescue, like a fox caught in a wire, but she couldn’t run away, she could barely hobble, even with Miss Bennet’s arm wrapped securely around her waist. If the next two hours hadn’t been so dreadful and painful, she might have wondered at the feeling of that slim, strong arm supporting her so readily.
No, Caroline did her best not to think of Mary Miss Bennet at all.
She could blame her injury for the fact that her best simply wasn’t good enough. It seemed like a constant, throbbing reminder that she hadn’t been alone in her hour of most dire (physical) need.
Well. There was no reason to be overly dramatic about it. She just needed to thank Miss Bennet, that was all.
So, that was how she came to be perched on Miss Bennet’s–or rather, the Gardiners’--chair in Cheapside.
Caroline finished her thank-you with aplomb, and wasn't terribly surprised to see that Miss Bennet was astonished. She blinked those big, dark eyes and said, with a lift to the corners of her pink mouth, “you’re welcome.”
Caroline covered the tension in her jaw with a smile and a sip from her tea. The tea was adequate, as was the parlor, her apology, and Miss Bennet herself. Everything was so adequate it bordered on splendid, so why was Caroline suddenly so completely tongue-tied?
“I believe Mr. Ryder is planning to go to Italy,” Miss Bennet said conversationally.
Miss Bennet looked surprised again. “Forgive me, I had rather thought you… liked… him?” her voice went rather high and unsure at the end, as though trying to soften the bluntness of the question.
“I did,” Caroline said, “but his wealth and charm are somewhat tempered by an obvious lack of good judgment and care for others. You may have noticed, Miss Bennet, that I am not a particularly warm person. I have no use for a man who cannot adequately balance my own shortcomings.” she set her teacup down. “I am, however, willing to change my mind about him. It’s whether he will change his mind about me that is the issue. Especially as, I gather, his interests lay in a different area?” she raised her eyebrows in question.
Miss Bennet let out a breath of a chuckle and shook her head. “Perhaps they did at one point. But we were not suited, either, I think. More importantly, I do not love him.”
Caroline laughed at the unexpected joke. “Yes, of course! One must consider one’s feelings when securing one’s future. That must outweigh a fortune in anyone’s mind.”
Miss Bennet’s smile was a bit stiff.
They stared at each other.
“You’re not serious?” Caroline said, smile slipping into cold incredulity. “You cannot have refused an offer from him, based on...?”
Miss Bennet looked down at her hands, which wrung against each other briefly before she used them to smooth out her skirt. “I am happy as I am,” she said. “Do you truly believe a man of Mr. Ryder’s character could have added to my happiness? If you’ll forgive my indiscretion, might his heart not have eventually wandered?”
A renewed, conspiratorial smile spread across Caroline’s face, but Miss Bennet’s face was now guarded, steeled as though ready to take another blow from her.
“Your opinion of him is as low as mine, then,” Caroline said. She tilted her head. “Has no one else caught your eye, then? No other man of fortune?”
The other woman shook her head. “There was another man I was fond of, but as he is engaged to someone else, we must remain friends.”
She looked so small in her chair in that moment, as though her surroundings loomed over her. A woman of no fortune, doomed to, perhaps, work for a living, who would one day live in a house even poorer than this. Yes, she had some somewhat-wealthy relatives who would never let her completely wither away–Jane in particular had far too soft a heart for that–but would Mary accept that? Might some form of stubbornness or pride prevent her from reaching out for help when she, someday, needed it?
Caroline’s heart burned uncomfortably, and her skin prickled with the weight of her own expensive dress, position, and privileges. Caroline’s position, even with the social connections her immediate family provided, was precarious enough. Mary, having little enough of a sense of style to recommend her to… well, anyone of taste, was practically doomed. If she was a flower, she was a daffodil, and was in full, spritely bloom at this moment, but that moment would not last long.
“Well, then,” Caroline said at length, “it seems my mission is twofold. It is, of course, obvious that we must find you a fitting husband. One whose heart will not stray, matches your natural intelligence, and befits your birth.”
“I– sorry, how is that obvi–”
“The other part is that I must convince you of how easily a heart is persuaded,” Caroline continued. “Romantic poetry is all well and good, but it is a fantasy, Miss Bennet. One can convince one’s heart to hold affection for nearly any creature. All that must really be done is vet which creature one should set one’s affections upon.”
“And you’ve…” Miss Bennet seemed to be having difficulty untangling Caroline’s words. “Decided to… set your affections on me?”
Caroline pursed her lips to stifle a laugh. “Miss Bennet, how bold of you,” she said with mock astonishment. “But I suppose,” she flickered her eyes up to the ceiling in reluctance, “that is partially the case. No, I am proposing that I help you in earnest to find a husband. You may join some of my social circle, and attend what events please you for this season.”
Mary’s face was grim. “And what would you get out of it, Miss Bingley?”
“Besides the joy of helping one otherwise doomed to unfortunate circumstances?” she deliberately flickered her gaze over Mary’s figure. “A rose may look better in comparison to a daffodil, wouldn’t you say?”
Miss Bennet’s eyes went steely. “You want to bring me out into society to make a mockery of me,” she said.
Alright, when she put it like that, it sounded cruel. Miss Bingley flinched, and picked up her tea to take a quick, nervous sip. “That’s not quite what I meant,” she murmured.
“Then what did you mean?” Miss Bennet tilted out her chin slightly.
It was a strange, unpleasant sensation, to regret one’s words so soon after speaking them. Half-formed protests pressed at her mouth, but in a moment of clarity, she was able to choose the most self-deprecating. “Miss Bennet,” she said, heat rising to her cheeks, “I do apologize. I think you are already aware that I am not, by nature, generous. Given how I have treated you in the past, I am not surprised that you are suspicious of my intentions.”
Miss Bennet’s eyes softened to a strange, open look of vulnerability that Caroline found herself wanting to simultaneously flee from and dive into. When she didn’t speak, Caroline was forced to continue.
She swallowed hard. “However, I would like to ask you for some grace in this matter. You need not assume that I have an ulterior motive. You are,” she steeled herself with an inhale, “a clever and pretty young woman of genteel birth, as well as, legally speaking, my sister-in-law.” Somehow, adding that last qualifier allowed Caroline to distance herself from the compliments she had been forced to concede in the same breath.
It was Miss Bennet’s turn to look as though she were holding back a smile. “Are you trying to get on Jane’s good side? Or mine?”
“It is always a good idea to stay on good terms with one’s relatives,” Caroline said stiffly. What a perfect excuse! She had barely thought of Jane until that moment, but like the benevolent angel she was in reality, she had come metaphorically into the conversation to smooth everything over. “You could say I owe Jane an extended apology for–well, that’s not important.” she waved the rest of her explanation away; if either of Mary’s elder sisters had chosen to tell her about Caroline’s part in attempting to foil Jane and Charles’ marriage, Mary would already know what she meant.
Caroline sort of hoped she didn’t know.
“I understand,” Miss Bennet said, and something in her smile told Caroline she might not have understood the correct thing. “I confess that I am surprised; you have given me a very generous offer, Miss Bingley, and then told me that you are not a generous person. What am I to think?” but her smile was lightly teasing, and Caroline felt a sort of clenching in her heart.
Ah. This was why those men were after Miss Bennet. When given the chance to relax, she was naturally just a little flirtatious, and complementary rather than sarcastic.
Caroline’s shoulders eased as her own teasing smile formed. “You’re the intelligent one, Miss Bennet; don’t ask me what to think.”
Miss Bennet ducked her head, and the atmosphere in the room eased for a moment before she said something utterly dreadful. “I cannot take you up on your offer, Miss Bingley.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Mary balked a little, then met her eyes, humor gone from them like a candle snuffed out in the dead of night. “I cannot join your social circles, Miss Bingley. You know I cannot live up to them. Nor do I wish to; I wish to instead make my own way as a governess.”
“You wish to–?” Caroline gaped at her, remembered herself, and snapped her mouth shut, straightening. “You cannot mean that. If you are worried about keeping up your wardrobe, you have two sisters who have married very well and can give you a temporary allowance–”
“That is not my meaning,” she interrupted, “I simply do not believe that I can be happy with any marriage. And I can… can no longer bear to have some hope for one dangled before me and then dashed away. You say that you can bend your affection easily to one creature or another, but my heart is not so easily swayed. I, I injure easily, more easily than I would ordinarily admit to. More than that, I want to do something useful in my life. I want to teach, and help young women invest their minds in science and history.”
As she spoke, Caroline was caught up in what she said, just as though Miss Bennet were declaiming a particularly emotional piece of poetry. She painted a clear picture of herself, turning away from Caroline’s offer toward a more noble, ultimately braver cause–even if it was dangerous, foolhardy, even lonely.
Caroline stood, years of training making the movement smooth instead of lurching to her feet. Mary stood as well, out of politeness, her expression grim.
“So, you have chosen this life out of fear of rejection,” Caroline started.
“If that’s how you see it, I must argue that you are choosing your own path out of fear, as well,” Miss Bennet said evenly.
Caroline recoiled. Every violent urge in her told her to hiss and rage, every ounce of training turned her to stone. She felt pinned, just as she had on the mountain, but now she had no one to call on for help. She slowly turned her face away, struggling.
A heavy silence fell. She should leave. If only she could guarantee to herself that she would never see Mary Bennet again! But the little scholar would turn up underfoot anywhere she stepped, in London, at Netherfield, anywhere in the country where high society was to be had. Neither of them could avoid it.
“I’m sorry,” Miss Bennet said quietly, “Miss Bingley, I’m afraid you sometimes bring out the worst of me.”
“The truth of you, you mean,” Caroline said. Her voice was rough, as though she’d been on the verge of tears, which she was not. She blinked a few times just to be sure, and jerked her head to once again meet Miss Bennet’s gaze.
Mary’s eyebrows were drawn together as she gazed at her with all the weight of a tired soul. “If you cannot think well of me,” she said, “then I do not know why you are here, asking to be friends.”
It was such a soft throw, an invitation for them to go back to being no more than acquaintances, that Caroline could have caught it with her eyes closed. She could so, so easily say something nasty and flounce out, never to return to this side of London again. But something inside of her twisted and ached and begged, asking her to stay, to see if she could make the dark eyes of Mary Bennet light up just one more time.
Caroline took a deep breath in and out.
“I am here,” she said, “because you were kind to me, and I wished to be kind to you.” Then she snatched up her bonnet and strode to the door, opening it herself and descending the stairs in quick, blurred steps. She didn’t dare catch another glimpse of Miss Bennet’s eyes, because it had occurred to her that, despite Mary’s need for spectacles, she could see straight through her.
Notes:
As much as I’d love to continue this, I honestly don’t know if I will (I’m a little nervous of writing in the Regency era)–but I knew we needed more Mary/Caroline works, so here it is!
If you can think of any more period-appropriate poems that might apply to them, let me know. The opening is the last verse of Wordsworth’s 'I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud', because can’t you imagine Caroline accidentally thinking of Mary and feeling her heart dance a little?
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