#Dragon Quest Spin Off

[lostplay]

Game 42: Dragon Quest Heroes II As much as I am a fan of warrior games and Dragon Quest, they have yet to make the games as good as the Hyrule Warrior games have been. Maybe it has something to do with the size of the locations, the JRPG nature of the franchise, or simply not rendering enough enemies, but the series just doesn't get close enough to the explosive action I felt when it comes to any of the other warrior games. Still compared to the first Dragon Quest Heroes, DQHII actually improvements itself immensely, and what was once an utter drag, is now just a novelty that feels like it's miss something. Like the first Dragon Quest Heroes was so stiff and slow paced that it never felt like you were given the time of day to actually get into any of the action. There was no chance to explore or make itself feel like a classic JRPG the way a Dragon Quest game ought to be. Heroes II fixes this oversight by giving the players a proper overworld to play around in and explore. While there isn't always a bundle of enemies to smack around, there is at least plenty of environments, treasures, and block passages to make it really feel like a traditional JRPG overworld. It honestly feels like I'm exploring the first map of Dragon Quest again, and every time I see an enemy it's like it draws near to me despite it remain quite stationary. There is just something to say about a big overworld, especially one as filled as Heroes II that gets any player really excited to explore it. Sadly though, the overworld of Heroes II isn't the main focus of the game, and that in lies the problem with it. It's not so much that the story is bad or the characters feel off, it's more so just how the maps used during story segments are rather hit or miss. Like there is plenty of dungeon type maps in this game, but there are also plenty of maps that feel like an empty arena in which you wait to be filled. Once more, the balancing of these types of maps are entirely lopsided with the early story maps having hardly any creatures, and the later game areas have plenty of enemies to deal with. This makes for a lot of the beginning of Heroes to be not only slower to get into, but boring too. The game really only picks up right after your fight with Terry, and that's roughly 15 hours in. Not to entirely slander Heroes II though, as I will say they did an excellent job of actually making proper boss characters, and challenge throughout the game. Once more, you can also select any current heroes you have in your party, and virtually play the whole game has just the characters you like. Even if you never touch the rest of the cast they still level along with you, albeit slowly. If you are looking for a warriors like Dragon Quest game in which you beat up a bunch of monsters, Heroes II is certainly the better showcase of the two games we currently have. On top of that, the first Heroes game doesn't need to be played through at all, and any extra fun to be had with the characters that do show up are at least characterized well enough that you don't have to know their original game counter parts to understand them. I don't think there is enough here to really engage anyone new to the franchise, and the lack of a proper couch / online co-op only hinders any possible friends/ lovers from exposing them either. That being said, there are better warrior games out there, and the only true enjoyment I can see this game getting is from fans of the series.

[howwnowbrowncoww]

square enix should make a dragon quest game that's just a pet simulator. i want to play with my monsters and give them little treats and brush them and give them kisses:(

[sodapaladin]

I’m only an hour or two in, but so far, I recognize every single tune in Dragon Quest Treasures from previous games. I noticed Koichi Sugiyama is billed as the composer in the opening credits, too, despite having passed away before the game’s release. Did SquEnix have to cobble together a soundtrack from Sugiyama’s previous works?

[roguerambles]

I understand the disappointment, I really do, but I think people might be blowing the whole world state thing a bit out of proportion. "This is SPITTING IN THE FACE of long-time fans" no it's not Steve, calm down.

The series has always had to compromise when it comes to the state of the world because so many of the choices (especially from the end of Origins) were so wildly different that trying to build a sequel from so many conflicting factors would be more or less impossible. It's why we've never seen the Architect again, because him being alive or dead has HUGE ripple effects that are damn near impossible to write around.

Heck, it was entirely possible for Anders to die at the end of Awakening, but the writers wrote around it by saying "oh no he actually faked his death" even though logically that made very little sense because at that point he'd have absolutely no reason to do that? But Anders was in the sequel so that had to come up with something.

Basically nothing from Dragon Age 2 was important in Inquisition - Hawke siding with Mages or Templars made no difference, Anders being alive or dead made no difference, whether Carver or Bethany were dead or Wardens or whatever made no difference. We got some flavour text and that was literally it, everything else played out exactly the same.

Hell, the Temple of Sacred Ashes gets blown to bits at the beginning of Inquisition, rendering everything to do with that quest from Origins basically moot. And we've never gone back to Orzammar, and everything we have heard from it has been kept super vague, because depending on who the King is and if Branka is still alive things would look WILDLY different. Crafting a new story there would be borderline impossible because the dozen different possible world states make the foundation shaky at best.

It's why I highly doubt we'll be able to side with Solas and help him tear down the Veil because that would result in basically a whole new world being created. Imagine them trying to make Dragon Age 5 and being like "okay 50% sided with Solas and tore the Veil down and 50% kept the Veil intact....wtf now what do we do--?"

Again, I understand the disappointment, but I just hope once the dust has settled and people calm down a bit they'll see that, realistically, very little has changed. Your saves are still there, your experiences and enjoyment of the games and the characters and the story are still there, but they were always gonna have to draw the line SOMEWHERE.

And that's not to say none of our previous choices will come back - if we get another game, or a spin off or something they'll probably do what they're doing with the Inquisitor now. They're just taking what's relevant to the story they are trying to tell, and leaving what they aren’t going to use presently ambiguous.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Jace teaching his wife how to fight. Maybe he gets a bit too rough or talks bad to you but apologize

This one made me want to pull my hair so many times, so please don't be too hard on the sword-using moments. Why did I do this to myself?

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’I don’t want to sit back and do nothing, I want to be at the frontlines and fight for our Queen. If Baela and Rhaena can do it, I can too,’’ you told Jacaerys as you were watching him take off his sword and belt, done with his day. ‘’The Queen said herself that I’m one of the greatest dragon riders. Another dragon could be helpful. I want to fight beside you.’’ 

‘’Are you sure?’’ Jacaerys shifted his gaze to you, sitting on your bed. ‘’I’m not saying that because I don’t want you to fight. I would be proud to have you fight beside me. I just want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into.’’ He removed his cape and unbuckled his jacket, sore underneath from his training. 

You were aware of the dangers of battle, but you were tired of feeling useless. You didn't want to be known as the wife of the Queen’s heir, the one who stayed behind and watched. You wanted to be remembered as a woman who fought and won battles, and helped win the war.

‘’This is what I want, Jace.’’ 

Rhaenyra was on board with you fighting for her claim. On one condition: that you learned how to use a weapon. You couldn’t go into battle with only your dragon to defend yourself and no combat abilities. Being a good dragon rider was great, but you needed to be able to hold a sword…or even a crossbow. 

It was usually Daemon who was in charge of training, but he was away looking for dragonseeds, so Jacaerys volunteered. The latter was supposed to join Daemon on his quest, and bailed at the last minute and sent Baela in replacement. 

You and Jacaerys worked hours together on your sword fighting. He was gentle in his teaching of the basics, but didn't go too easy on you. In the heat of battle, your opponents won’t spare you. It’s a thing Ser Harwin told him when he was little. 

‘’You don't want to leave your upper body open to attacks. You want to keep your arms closer to your body,” he advised, his voice gentle yet firm. ‘’You want to relax your shoulders too. You’ll get hurt if you’re too stiff.’’ 

Jacaerys poked you in the side and a startled giggle escaped you at the unexpected poke, but you quickly regained your focus, nodding earnestly. 

‘’Got it.’’ 

You tried to relax, taking a deep breath. Holding a sword was not easy. It required a lot of control and precision. 

Jacaerys continued drilling the basics with you, very patiently explaining things. And showing you again when you asked. 

‘’Today we’ll work on disarming your opponent,’’ he announced, spinning his sword with ease. ‘’It sounds difficult, but this is one of the first moves that I learned.’’ 

You nodded, and watched intently, trying to absorb every detail as Jacaerys was demonstrating the technique. 

Then, it was your turn to try and disarm him. You stepped forward, your movements light and steady, determined to match his skill although he had years of practice. But no matter how hard you tried, Jacaerys seemed to anticipate your every move, effortlessly blocking each attempt.

‘’Disarming your opponent is not necessary in a battle,’’ Jacaerys explained over the clanging of swords, feeling your frustration. ‘’It’s mostly used during tourney duels, but if you’re ever cornered in a one on one, it can buy you some time.’’ 

The force of his last swing sent you flat on your ass. ‘’It’s looking like I won’t be buying myself much time…’’ you sighed, looking down at the sand on your clothes in disappointment.  

‘’Don’t think like that,’’ Jacaerys said, regretting going too hard on you. ‘’My fault entirely. I’m sorry. I just…I want you to be safe and ready when you’re out there. Alone.’’ The thought of you being cornered and unable to defend yourself haunted him. ‘’I’ll go easier,’’ he promised as he reached out for your hand, helping you up. 

With renewed determination, you made another attempt, and to your astonishment, you succeeded. Jacaerys's weapon clattered a few paces away, rendering both of you momentarily speechless.

He congratulated you and picked his sword back up. ‘’I knew you could do it, my love.’’ 

‘’Do I get a reward?’’ you asked, tipping your chin up. 

Jacaerys pursed his lips, thinking, then leaned down for a kiss — or what you thought was a kiss. Before your lips could touch, he seized the opportunity to disarm you effortlessly in a swift motion. Your sword slipped from your grasp, leaving you momentarily stunned. 

Pulling back, Jacaerys flashed a playful glint in his eyes as he aimed his sword at you. ‘’First rule of battle strategy, don't ever let your opponent distract you.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes@thirsty4nonlivingmen@naty-1001@katiepie67@moshpot24x@hc-geralt-23@lovelynerdytraveler@saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10@tabloidteen@timetoten@deekaag@wondxrgurl@aerangi@strmborns@astridyoo15@daemonslittlebitch@queenbeestuffs@severewobblerlightdragon@agentstarkid@msliz@vane1999-blog@fairyfolkloresposts@todaywasafairytale07@otomaniac@zgzgzh@thebeardedmoon@golden-library@kikyrizuki@hnslchw@camy85@winxschester @armstrongscommentsection

[writingismyfortune]

new look | dan heng || honkai star rail one shot

published on august 9th, 2023.

pairing: dan heng x reader

genre: fluff

word count: idk, but it’s kind of short?

synopsis: you woke up to your boyfriend, dan heng, in his new form. that’s the gist of it.

warning: lowercase is intended! there’s some slight spoilers from the new story quest (not from a lore standpoint. it’s in terms of bosses and dan heng’s new look). dan heng’s new look has me on a chokehold fr.

hazy vision, heart rate is accelerating…your head is spinning…the strong stench of your blood…your shallow breathing…that’s what you can only focus on.

last time you recall, you were fighting phantylia in her little domain along with general jing yuan. then next thing you knew, your vision went black. the flowers she summoned continues to drain your life, weakening your strength even more. general jing yuan was concerned for your health before the fight, but you said that you were fine.

general jing yuan trusted you, so he allowed you to fight along side him to defeat this lord ravager. he did have a feeling that he shouldn’t have done that though. but you were so persistent on helping jing yuan that he couldn’t say no. that determined look in your eye was so strong and powerful.

before you completely passed out from exhaustion and your injuries, you saw this cyan colored dragon come from the ground…? where did that…come from? who is this cyan dragon? seems like it finished the job of defeating phantylia though.

a tall figure appears in front of you before you completely passed out. his long black hair flows down his back…he stands in front of you protectively…is this a god hearing your blessing? what is going on exactly? who is this guy? why is he protecting you? why is he look so hot- (a/n: just like me fr)

but before you could even process what was happening after phantylia was defeated, you passed out. what a good time to pass out…

without knowing how much time has passed, you woke up in someone’s arms. your vision still a little blurry, you rub your eyes a little to adjust your vision. looking up, you’re met with…oh wait, you remember this guy. recognizing his cyan horns, you wondered if you’re actually dead or something.

staring at him up close, you realize how gorgeous this guy is. his cyan eyes look alluring to look at. no, you’re still loyal to your boyfriend dan heng. however, you can’t help, but admire his features. the gods above must’ve gave him the special treatment. you thought you were in heaven, so you ask a random question out loud.

“am i dead…?”

the unspecified dragon guy looks at you funny, as if he’s silently asking you what do you mean by that question. not only that, he’s confused why you’re asking such a question.

“you’re perfectly alive, [your name]. i was extremely worried about you. you should’ve stayed out of that phantylia fight after you fought off those marastruck…” he responds to your question. wait, how did he know that you were fighting some marastruck soldiers…? there’s no other way…unless…

“what. how did you know that? i am dead, aren’t i…you’re some unknown aeon, aren’t you?” the dragon looking guy looks at you with his eyebrows furrowing, he’s so confused.

“did something hit your head? you’re spouting complete nonsense again,” he asks you. he continues speaking, looking up at the clear skies. “to be fair, you’re always speaking nonsense from time to time. not only that, you did just woke up. anyways, phantylia is defeated now…hopefully xianzhou is safe now.” he said lightly with this slight hopeful tone in his voice. he adds this sweet line after, which completely makes your heart skip a beat.

“and i’m relieved that you’re okay, [your name].”

huh…so this dragon guy knows your name and he’s also very sweet with you. that’s kind of suspicious, you thought. in addition, this is the first time that you’ve seen him in your life. so really, you find this weird. but do you mind it? kind of, you feel like you’re cheating on your boyfriend, dan heng. well, at least you’ll have stories to tell once you come back to the astral express.

you can’t wait to tell dan heng what happened today…you considered that he might get slightly jealous over this dragon dude though, which you are excited to see.

you grab your phone and start texting dan heng, telling him about your adventures. you then hear a ringtone from the dragon guy’s pocket…

the dragon guy grabs his phone and looks at the notification he just received. you stare at the phone case…you’ve seen that phone case before…that’s the same one that dan heng has.

that normal black phone case? yeah, you can recognize that bland ass phone case from anywhere. you tried to convince him to change it into something more cooler, but dan heng didn’t want to as the phone case is still functional.

the dragon guy then looks at you, one of his eyebrows raising in curiosity.

“[your name], why did you send me a message when we’re literally next to each other? you could’ve just told me your adventures face to face…you don’t have to text me about it.”

“huh, what did you say?” you responded, your expression immediately looks confused. and then…oh shit.

that’s when you realized…that’s when you connected two and two together…wait a minute.

“wait…you’re dan heng?” you asked the dragon guy. in reaction to your question, his cheeks immediately flushed. his eyes dart to the side, avoiding any eye contact with you.

“no way. you’re actually dan heng…like my boyfriend, dan heng?” you ask again, your eyes are wide in excitement. they sparkle in delight.

“…i know i look different, but yes. i’m the dan heng you know and love, [your name].”

“oh my aeons.” you said softly, clearly still very flabbergasted to know this fact.

“i was scared you wouldn’t like my new look…but i had to confirm it with you.” dan heng exclaims. his eyes look elsewhere, deep in thought about something. then he looks at you, he’s slightly pouting. it’s very subtle, but you know it’s there.

“you didn’t even recognize it was me…do i really look that different?” he asks you. “i can’t change back to my original form even if i wanted to…” he adds.

you shake your head without hesitation with this knowing grin on your face.

“you do look different, but not in a bad way. in fact, i think i dig this new look actually.”

dan heng clears his throat at your bold compliment, trying to keep his composure. you stare at his cyan horns, in which, he notices.

“do you want to touch my horns?” dan heng asks you as he puts you down on your feet. he brings his head down a little, letting you touch them. he looks at you expectedly.

you look so excited to touch his horns, your eyes sparkling. glancing up at dan heng, you ask him if he’s really okay with you patting his horns, for a final confirmation. dan heng gives you a nod with this warm smile, saying that he’s perfectly fine with you patting his horns.

and so you reach over and pet his horns gently…they were a little rough around the edges and they’re very dense and strong. they have a similar texture to horns of a goat or a reindeer, if that makes any sense.

you notice that dan heng’s big, cyan dragon tail is wagging a little…it’s clear he enjoys you patting his horns like this. finding this cute, you continue patting his horns gently, your fingers moving along his strong cyan horns.

“your touch is very gentle, my dear.” dan heng says softly, his cyan eyes look at you with warmth. you continue patting his horns, a satisfied grin on your face, clearly happy to see that your boyfriend is comfortable.

“you know, before you identified yourself, i felt like i was cheating on you…even though there wasn’t anything happening.” you said, still patting his horns. “i mean, i found you attractive…but it appears that it was you all along, dan heng. turns out i just fell for you again~”

dan heng’s cheeks go a little red again hearing this, but he’s very happy to hear that. it appears he softens up with it comes to you. otherwise, he isn’t easily flustered…it’s just that his reserved demeanor falls right off when it comes to you.

in addition, your touch makes him turn into putty. he’s so whipped for you. he’s also glad that you love this new look of his…maybe he’ll keep it around for the time being (once he finds out how to change back), just to see your excited smile again when you pat his horns. he loves it when your eyes light up when you touch his horns, your soft and gentle touch full of affection and love.

back then, he wasn’t very fond of this new look as it reminded him of his treacherous past that he ran away from. but now…it seems like…

it seems like he has a reason to love this new look. you made him love himself even more. not only that, he continuously falls for you little by little every single day.

his new look doesn’t only define his past anymore. it defines his future too. it's now something that makes you happy. for once, he appreciates this new look of his.

maybe his new look isn’t so bad after all.

end of one shot. next chapter: n/a

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 10: Soulbound

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6.9k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

Your fingers twitch and knead against satiny textiles as wakefulness begins to return you to existence. A lightheaded daze shrouds your vision as your eyes crack open. The canopy of your four-poster bed suspends above you. The drapery is embroidered beautifully with stars, constellations, moons in all phases, and soaring dragons, all revolving around the central sun. In this dream-like state, the depictions seem to move, playing out their destinies against the indigo astral sea as shadows gambol over the extravagant fabric. It would be enchanting if it were not making your head spin uncomfortably.

As you squeeze your eyes shut, your fingers clench and twist the fabric beneath you, and a feeble whine sighs from your lips. Your tongue feels numb and lazy, sagging in your mouth uselessly, and your body feels as fuzzy and impotent as your blurred vision.

“You are awake.”

Astarion’s voice grates at the inception of your consciousness, and you recoil as much as your bloodless body will allow. You still feel his hand around your neck, squeezing tight, halting the pleas in your throat as his fangs sawed at your neck, ripping and tearing the soft flesh. You tumble off the edge of the bed in your panic, and his hands break your fall.

He’s touching you. Hells, he’s touching you, and you want, nay need, him to fucking stop lest you suffocate.

“Don’t touch me,” you sob with a croak, flinging your hands up to protect yourself from further harm, palms heating as your magic surges. “Please. Gods. Don’t touch me.”

Astarion’s hands jerk away, and you shudder while trying to breathe. The stabbing pain in your throat is intolerable, fresh tears springing to your eyes, and your fingers tentatively prod the tender flesh. You don’t need a mirror to know that your skin is revoltingly bruised, a hemorrhaging mural composed by his wrath, and you whimper at the contact of your fingertips. The muscles in your arms and legs still feel like gelatin. They wobble weakly as you push yourself into a corner, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Darling-” Astarion’s hands are poised near you as if he might be able to stop the inevitable crumbling if only he could find the right place to brace it.

“Leave me alone.” You choke out grimly, swallowing the pain caused by your gruff inflection.

“It’s me,” he says, small and shaky.

You need time to think, to regain your composure, and you cannot do it with his eyes on you, his voice repeating your name like a prayer and his hands trying to find where your pieces are weakest so he can give them strength.

“Get out!” You wail despite the barbaric sting that causes more tears to rain out of your eyes. “Get the fuck out!”

“I… Yes, of course. As you wish.” Astarion stutters hesitantly as if he’s not sure if he will heed your commands. The door hinges creak as he closes it behind him, “I’m sorry,” he breathes with a sigh. “Truly.”

Like an ancient ruin that can no longer persevere against the ravages of time, you let yourself collapse and crumble.

The overbearing walls of the Crimson Palace wash over him in waves as he roams through them in a stupor. His fingertips drag across the chilled panels as he tries to orient himself. It feels like he’s waking from a nethermost trance, and his alertness has not fully recovered.

He dives for the desk when he enters the study. It’s full of papers and ledgers in neat piles, and he grabs at parchment chaotically, sending it scattering, sheets fluttering to the ground around him. His eyes scan the documents as he shuffles through them quickly. All in his hand, signature, name, but he does not recall any of this. He tosses sheet after sheet to the side until he finds one with a date.

Eight months.

Eight months of nonexistence. Of something walking around wearing his skin, using his name, speaking in his voice, imitating him.

Where the fuck has he been all this time?

He slams his hands on the desk. It cracks and caves in, regurgitating its contents to the floor. He frowns, takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Her voice still reverberates, an echo in his mind, as she said goodbye in a hauntingly melodic timbre.

Why did she leave him?

Dashing through the halls, the floor mocks him in creeks and groans for his heavy steps. He pushes all the doors open as he progresses further into the palace until he finds what must be his room. Opening the wardrobes and dressers, he tosses his clothing haphazardly to the floor, detached from his typical compulsion for fastidiousness.

Nothing. Not a single article of clothing and none of her possessions are here. Why?

His heart pounds as he jogs through the palace until he catches her scent at the top of the dark staircase leading down into a murky darkness – the old spawn quarters.

No. This cannot be, surely. He wouldn’t. Right?

He bounds down the stairs, 2 or 3 steps at a time, until he comes to a slightly ajar door in the hallway with a lock that he does not recall being there. The pads of his shaky fingers stroke the cool metal, and he swallows the lump balling in his throat.

This has to be a nightmare. This cannot be real.

The door whines when he pushes it and peers into the room. It smells strongly of Jasmine, Honeysuckle and Vanilla - it smells like her. Astarion staggers in and throws open the simple wardrobes and chests, breaking the doors off some of them in his haste.

She left everything, which can only mean one thing - she fled.

What has he done?  

“Lord Ancunin?”

Good Gods, he’s come to loathe that singsong voice like nails on a chalkboard, and the back of his throat tickles as it hauls him away from his reflections.

“Elowyn,” he sneers spitefully, crinkling his nose in disgust. “How many times must we have this discussion? If this disobedience persists, I may have to reconsider our little agreement. I have no need for a spawn that cannot follow simple orders.”

The lie rolls off his tongue, smooth and modulated with the hint of a threat. Elowyn wishes to be given the gift of eternal life, and she’s idiotic and vain enough to believe he would ever grant her such a thing, but it is a simple enough falsity to keep her happy and submissive.

“I beg your forgiveness, Master.” Elowyn whimpers, dropping to her knees with her hands clasped in her lap, “It won’t happen again.”

“Good girl. Be sure it doesn’t, or you will force me to teach you another lesson.” He drawls unenthusiastically while staring at his nails. Threatening her brings him no pleasure. He finds it all a rather tedious business. “Now, I did not come here to chitchat. Araj, tell me what you have discovered.”

Araj glares at him with her arms crossed. The Drow has much more spirit and is more arduous to keep in line than her counterpart.

“Hungry, Lord?” Araj quips and leans her head to the side with an egregious grin. “You are considerably ill-tempered today. There’s always a neck here available for the biting if you were so inclined.”

“You can offer all you wish,” he snaps, rolling his eyes. “The answer will be no until the end of time. You disgust me.”

“Such harsh words for an old friend.” Araj pouts sarcastically before launching into the excuses he’s already heard. “Your blood is not easy to work with. It’s volatile and eats through everything like caustic acid.”

“You brought me here to tell me of more failure?” He snarls, baring his teeth. He considers killing them both. Their tests have gotten him nothing and no closer to understanding what’s wrong with him, but there is at least one more answer he seeks before he can do away with them. “And the sun immunity?”

“It’s hard to say,” Araj shrugs. “Why the sudden interest in the sun resistance? I thought we were here to see what your blood may be capable of, not to waste our time trying to bottle useless effects. Why would you need a potion to make you invulnerable? You are already immune.”

“What yourself, Araj,” he growls threateningly, his brows knitting together in a fierce scowl that casts shadows over his eyes. “You are under my employ. I get to decide what’s useful to me and what isn’t. You will do as instructed.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Araj smirks. “If this is about that lovely spawn of yours, it may be prudent to allow us access to her blood.”

He’s out of his chair before Araj can blink, slamming her against the wall with one dagger to her throat and the other pressed harshly to her abdomen.

“If you touch her, I will liberate your vile innards from your body. Then, I will hunt down your family, lovers, and friends, turn them into my obedient meat puppets and let them rot away in my dungeon for eternity. She is off-limits. You are to go nowhere near her. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Araj swallows hard, her eyes wide with fear. “Perhaps you might consider an alternative? Turn Elowyn, and we can use her blood for testing instead.”

Throwing his head back, he laughs loudly, making both women jump, “You do not give the hound a bone until it has won the race. Find another way.”

He releases Araj, sheathing his daggers, and stalks away.

Araj’s voice stops him, “Elowyn tells me you’re refusing to give her more samples. We cannot run further tests without it.”

“No.” She would not want him to do this, and he has failed her enough for one day, “You will get no more samples from me until you have done as I ask. The next time you request an audience with me, you better have results, Araj, or there will be consequences.”

“Is that a threat?” Araj spits harshly.

“My dear,” he drawls nonchalantly. With a subtle movement, a dagger hurtles through the air and embeds into the wall so close to Araj’s neck that the shiny steel pets her skin. He looms over Araj, forcing her to arch her back while he hauls the dagger from the wall, “It’s a fucking promise.”

There’s an odd beauty to darkness, an inky void that obscures your surroundings and allows you to delude yourself into believing the elixir of lies you pour into your soul. In it, you can pretend, if only for a moment, that you are not a prisoner of your past and your sins are rendered null as they circle like vultures smothered by the shadows.

So, you lay in the jet-black abyss. Even as your bones begin to rue the rigid floor, and your eyes can shed no more tears, you lay unmoving.

Astarion sits beside you on the floor with his back pressed flat against the wall. He hasn’t uttered so much as a syllable since he settled there hours ago. When you look into his eyes, you see mayhem, starlight and darkness, treading the edge between diabolical and divine. He is a devil cloaked in the skin of an angel with blood dripping from his eyes, but Gods, you’ll ignite the world and walk across the hot coals of its remains if it means preserving the light in him.

You’re a warrior. When life threatens you with a battle, you will awaken every monster, every dragon, every demon that slumbers within you and answer with bloodshed.

You’ve wallowed in your self-pity long enough. A war awaits, and you intend to win it or die trying.

Crawling into his lap, Astarion wraps his arms around you. One of his hands comes to the back of your head, and his cheek presses tightly to yours as you slip your arms around his neck.

And Gods, it feels like heaven to be held in the arms of hell.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes next to your ear while he sweeps your hair away from your neck. His fingers shake as they brood over the bruised skin and gnarled, coin-sized holes that his fangs left. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

You press your hand against his, flat palm to palm. His hand dwarfs yours, “It’s okay.”

Astarion scoffs while his fingers interlock with yours, “It is most certainly not okay. I very nearly drained you dry, and who in the Hells knows what I would have done with you afterward!” His voice is unsteady, labouring beneath misery, “I will take you back to Shadowheart and Gale come morning. We can continue your lessons until you can feed yourself. Once that is accomplished, our business will be concluded, and you will never have to see me again. Freedom, as much as I am willing to grant you, is yours.”

Your eyes distend, and your brows pull down. Astarion is granting you the freedom you want. You should be happy, ecstatic even. So, why does it fill you with dread?

“Is that what you want?” You choke out, faint and tuneless, and pray to any God that hasn’t turned their back on you that his answer is not yes. “You want me to leave?”

“No, little love,” he finally answers in an eerily, delicate baritone after too many agonizing minutes of silent contemplation. “I am selfish as I always have been, perhaps even more since the Rite. Of course, I do not wish you to go, but you are not safe with me. I cannot control it. I have lost days before - days of not knowing where I had gone or what I had done.” He chuckles sarcastically, dismal and sullen, “We get what we deserve in the end, I suppose.”

Perhaps we do.

“I’m not going,” you state matter-of-factly. “Do you trust me, Astarion?”

Astarion gently draws you back to look into your eyes, sorrow dulling his expression with his lips firm in a tight line, “You may be the only person in the entirety of the cosmos that I trust implicitly.”

“Then trust that when the spark in your eyes is snuffed out, I can be your glow,” you vow, chillingly formidable. “My soul is forged in fire, and I will burn brighter than your demons and choke the darkness. I will do whatever it takes. I will always bring you home.”

“Don’t be a martyr. Do you have no sense of self-preservation?” he admonishes you with a shake of his head. “Why are you doing this?”

“Good Gods, you can be obtuse sometimes,” you roll your eyes at him. “You can stop posturing this charade of ignorance any time. I know you heard what I said to Gale.”

Astarion’s eyes drift to your hand, embraced with his, and his thumb skims up and down yours, “What if I am incapable of loving you back?”

Can’t or won’t? 

“I don’t expect you to,” you strive to keep your voice steady and casual even as your heart fractures and implodes in your chest. “Love given with the requisite of reciprocation is not love. I give it to you freely, as it always was, as it always will be. May I speak plainly?”

Astarion arches a brow, “Go on.”

“I don’t think you’re incapable of love, Astarion. I believe you’re scared of it.”

“Love is a sickness of the heart.” Astarion takes a deep breath, his voice grave. “It will hail itself your saviour but be your downfall.”

“Then...” you shrug, “down I go.”

Astarion loving you is a fantasy you’ve long relinquished. A pathetic hope that would asphyxiate you in pools of failed attempts. But wrapped in his arms, staring into scarlet eyes dusted with an ethereal radiance, a murmur begins to bite at your thoughts, quickly becoming a roar, filling your ears.

There’s that feeling again. That connection of invisible threads bridging the gap between you and the presence lingering in the back of your head that you cannot touch. It tugs at the borders of your mind with a request. No, an invitation. For the first time since it made its home in your consciousness when you reach out, it does not shy away, and you embrace it.

There’s an ear-splitting rush and a feeling of sinking. Your body jerks, trying to right itself, but Astarion holds you firmly, pulling you tighter.

“Let yourself sink,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Trust me just a little further.”

You stop fighting the feeling and plummet. Suddenly, you’re not just you any longer. You are you, and you are him simultaneously. One being in two bodies. You can feel the comfortable pressure of your body against him, and his heart beats behind your ribs.

Another abrupt drop. It makes your stomach flutter, and you’re in the bowels of a stygian doom. You feel the corruption you heard in his mind as if it were in yours, infecting your thoughts with sadistic rants and relentless chittering. You can almost taste the rancid colloquy on your tongue, and you fight the urge to retch.

A hunger longing to escape, thundering against the bars of its prison. It hums enticing promises in an absorbing, almost angelic inflection that compels you to release it, and you’re horrified to find yourself tempted.

You’re dragged away, a feeling of hurtling through time and space, not entirely unlike portal travel. His voice echoes in your mind, bellowing in your head, begging you to peer into his darkness, dance with his demons, and love him anyway.

I do, you answer, you are safe with me.

Your eyelashes flutter as you come back. You no longer hear the voices mumbling or feel that malevolent spectre with its seraphic affirmations, but you can still feel him in a way you’ve never felt before.

“I- I don’t understand,” you breathe, trying to reestablish yourself with your body, thoughts and feelings, “What was that?”

“I have always been with you.” Astarion gently taps your temple, “In here. You cannot tell me you have not felt me. I know you have because I always feel you.”

You can’t help the awe transforming your face as you continue feeling his desires, wants, and fears flowing through you as you flow through him, two stars colliding and recollecting unified.

“I thought that was just how you could compel me.”

“Well... it is,” he nods, “but there is much more to it than that.”

“Did you have this with...” You cut yourself off when you realize what you’re about to blurt out, biting your tongue so hard you draw blood.

Astarion smirks, “You know it works both ways, right?” You hear his voice in your head and only realize that it’s not him speaking when you comprehend his mouth isn’t moving, “Just because you don’t say it doesn’t mean I don’t hear it.”

Fuck. Are none of my thoughts private any longer? Did I throw open the door for the devil? 

“The devil, hm? A little harsh, don’t you think?” Astarion giggles. He must see the terror in your eyes, or Hells, does he feel it? Either way, he squeezes your hand. “Say what you were going to say,” Astarion instructs. “You might as well just say it.”

“I didn’t mean that you’re the devil!” You yelp and swallow hard, “Did you have this with Cazador?”

You wince as the name strolls off your tongue. You were never to utter that name in Astarion’s presence, and whenever you did, you paid for your carelessness. You impulsively cower, thrusting your eyes shut, magic rising in a sharp upswing.

“Easy, darling. I’m not going to hurt you. I would make a very dashing devil.” Astarion coos while rubbing your arm, “Yes and no. I felt something similar; that ubiquity rooted in my mind gave him the power to control me, but the link concluded there. This… bond, if you will, is unique to you and me.”

“Why did it not feel like this before? I can feel you, Astarion. I can feel your heart beating as if it were in my chest.” You push your palm against his shirt and let it heat slightly, and your skin starts to heat in concert, “I can feel this as if I were doing it to myself. I feel your desires, wants, and fears. Good Gods, I feel everything.”

It’s gloriously overwhelming, akin to a pleasure so intense that it borders on pain. Your nerves and synapses are overloaded as they attempt to make sense of all this information circuiting.

“I had to open the door, so to speak.” Astarion kisses your heated palm with a wolfish grin. “Tell me. What do I want, little love?”

I want you, it arises in your mind, drifting on the current between you.

“Me.” You stutter, feeling like all the breath has been sucked out of your lungs. You stare at him wide-eyed, “You want... me?”

“Until the world falls down,” he purrs tenderly with a genuine smile. “Do not worry. You are able to close and open the connection, same as I. I need not be in your head all the time. Your dirty thoughts are private if you wish, but I do hope you share.”

“Can you force the connection open?”

“Yes,” he retorts blatantly, “but I have not crossed that line, and I do not plan to, and before you ask, no, you cannot force it open. You can, however, request it simply by reaching out. Wherever I am, I will feel it.”

You rest your hand where your heart used to beat. Hells, it feels like it is beating again, but you’re feeling his. You thought you missed this sensation, but right now, you’re finding it a harsh cramp in your chest.

“Astarion, this… this is incredible.” Tears well in your eyes. He’s letting you in, and the significance of this gesture is staggering, “Thank you.”

“It is quite something, isn’t it?” Astarion takes his lips in yours, and you can feel his eagerness, his rampant desire and his enjoyment. When your tongues meet, tasting each other, you’re blown away by pleasure, yours and his mixed.

“Oh my, this will make for some very depraved carnal fun. I could read your body before, but now I can feel it. Hmm, the possibilities are titillating.” Astarion grins devilishly, “But that will have to wait. You are weak and must rest. I could find you some food if you wish. It will help you recover quicker, but it will not be of the four-legged variety.”

“Unless it’s your purple-haired hussy, I’m not interested.” You smirk. “I will make an exception on my dietary restrictions for her.”

“Oh, still positively green with envy, I see. I can feel your hatred. It’s delectable,” Astarion giggles. “My pretty consort, I do not like to see doubt cast upon your face. I told you I’ve never taken her to my bed. You need not be invidious.”

“Will you take me to your bed? I- I,” you stumble embarrassingly over your tongue. It feels cumbersome in your mouth, “I would like to rest with you tonight.”

You feel a rush of delight mixed with astoundment. Perhaps what’s more flabbergasting is that he simply lets you feel it, not attempting to camouflage or muzzle it.

“You do?” Astarion’s brows rise and curve upward, “I mean,” he clears his throat. “Of course. I can deny you nothing. You need not ask permission. You’re more than welcome to rest with me any night.”

“Well, in that case,” you smirk foxlike, “which wardrobe is mine then?”

The question only further increases the exhilaration you’re feeling ebbing from him. It’s so potent, a high so gratifying that you could get addicted to pleasing him - a dangerous notion.

“I suppose I will have to acquire you one.” Astarion chuckles and kisses your forehead, “Can you walk, or shall I carry you to bed?”

You scoff and do your best, but your muscles are still depleted of the sustenance required to function, and you wobble even with Astarion stabilizing you.

“Carry you, it is, clumsy thing.” He laughs lightheartedly while taking you into his arms. “Come, my love. Let’s go to our bed, hm?”

“Our bed,” you muse, kissing his cheek. “I do like the sound of that.”

“Me too,” he says, suddenly frighteningly serious, “Very much.”

The mattress dips as Astarion gets into bed. You’ve never really realized how enormous this damn bed is. Even with both of you lying in it, there’s so much space that it makes him feel far away, and you mourn the physicality.

A grin splits across his face, and he raises his arm, inviting you in, “I can feel that - you know, your desire to be close. No, it’s more than that. Isn’t it?” You can feel him scan the emotion, deciphering it, “It feels like a need. I suppose I should not be surprised. You never could get enough of me.”

“Astarion.” Pushing yourself close to him, you rest your head on his arm. The pads of your fingers rub the silken skin of his chest. Rest is starting to beckon you toward your trance. “What does this mean for us?”

“It can mean as little or as much as you wish it to,” his fingers meander the valley up your spine. “Nothing has to change between us, or we can… try for something more.”

As the dreamscape unfolds behind the closed lids of your eyes, your sensibility fading, you whisper, “Do you love me, Astarion?”

Emotional pandemonium tosses like waves on a rough sea. Alarm. Resentment. Dread. That proverbial portal slams closed frantically with so much force that it peppers your vision behind your eyelids white, and you lurch upward with your hand to your forehead with a howl.

It feels like a guillotine to your soul, slicing it in two. You are hollow. Your chest is still, the borrowed beat from Astarion’s heart dying. The slipstream of emotions no longer flows and combines as one enchanted ballad.

You are alone, completely incomplete, and you have never felt more dead than this moment.

“I’m sorry,” Astarion rubs your back and kisses your shoulder softly. “I did not expect it to pain you. I’m still learning. I will take heed of my haste from now on. That’s enough rooting around in my head for one day. Rest now.”

The pain ebbs, and your thoughts reform, piecing themselves back together. You lay down without a word because you’re unsure of what you can say in your state of confusion. The feelings, none of them love or even affection, but you’ve been feeling his veneration all night.

What the Hells does it all mean?

The sun-warmed stones of the courtyard thaw the icy chill of your skin as you lay under the radiant rays. The sky is full of fluffy, white clouds like unsheared sheep grazing across a cerulean plain. You thought this might make you feel as alive as when the bond between you and Astarion was open, but instead, it’s another reminder you’re a walking, talking corpse.

A feather-light breeze flutters your hair around your face and carries the smell of food, well, people but food to you, reminding you of your hunger. Those cramps in your stomach have returned, and the unquenchable thirst is parching your throat, making your tongue feel like an arid desert.

Firey orbs rotate above, and you twist them into constellations, which you often do when your mind is unsettled. Astarion said you could try for more; it sounds like fantasies made reality until you remember that he’d said he wasn’t sure he could love you. In that case, what does more even mean to him? Do you take the risk and put your heart on the table?

Everything is getting so fucking messy.

How can you tell what is genuine with him? Gale wasn’t wrong when he said Astarion knows how to manipulate you. He hardly needs to compel you because he knows what buttons to push and pull, the words to say, to get what he wants. He always has. All roads always lead back to him. Is it your heart that gravitates to Astarion, or is it something far more sinister? Are you just ingrained to be drawn to your creator? How can you know your feelings versus just an innate reflex that was planted and has taken root in your consciousness?

“What’s troubling you?” Astarion lays down beside you with an arch brow and his crimson eyes vivid in the sunlight.

“Everything,” you sigh, “Just everything.”

Astarion rolls to his side and puts his hand on your arm. He looks bothered by your answer with one brow pulled slightly down with his head cocked, “Is it something I did? You can tell me.”

“No.” The orbs start to absorb each other until there are only two remaining. You make them violently clash and burst like a firework, “You didn’t do anything. Where did you go this morning? You weren’t here when I woke up.”

“I would like to take you somewhere today.” Astarion sits and takes your hand, kissing the palm and all your fingertips, “Will you come?”

Sitting, you pull your knees to your chest, “You want to go out during the day?”

“Yes, during the day.” He purrs in a soothing baritone. “You’re safe from the sun with me. You need not hide in the manor all the time.”

“It’s not the sun, Astarion.” A lie. It’s always a little bit about the sun. That phobia is alive and well. You’re starting to wonder if it’s less of a phobia and more of some weird vampiric instinct. “It’s all the people. I’m hungry, and my control is dreadful. I can’t be trusted around them. I’m not sure how you did it.”

“Centuries of practice, love. You do quite well for a young spawn. Cazador kept us in the kennels until we could control the hunger. I was in there for many years, I think.” Astarion cocks his head, drawing his brows down as if he didn’t mean to divulge that information but continues. “You have my word; I will not put you into a situation you cannot handle.”

“Okay,” you say hesitantly, “I’ll go.”

“Splendid,” Astarion stands and hauls you up with him, “You can ride a horse, yes?”

Your brows pop up, rounding your eyes, “Me? Of course. Do you? Last I checked, you hated those beasts.”

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” Astarion rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue, “I am more than capable of riding the beasts. I don’t have to like them."

“This is going to be so much fun,” you giggle. “I truly cannot wait to see this. The Vampire Ascendant on a horse. Miracles never cease!”

“Cheeky pup,” he smirks and bumps your shoulder.

It’s been a while since you’ve been in the saddle, but you settle quickly. With your feet in the stirrups and hands on the reins, the dapple-grey mare canters with a rhythmic stride. Astarion’s steed, a large jet-black gelding, keeps pace effortlessly. It’s hard to keep your eyes off Astarion. In the saddle, he attracts attention with a cut debonair form, his shoulders back, hips rolling smoothly to match his gelding’s long strides, and his hair flowing handsomely in the wind.

He catches you admiring him with your mouth dropped open and smirks with a chuckle, nodding in the direction to follow and eases his gelding into a gallop. The two horses soar over the plains outside Baldur's Gate with booming hoofbeats, manes streaming in the wind, and tails held high.

There is something so unbelievably picturesque about this moment, so familiar yet unsettling. You spent so much time travelling with Astarion across areas like this. You, him and dirt roads from dawn to dusk, but this isn’t the same man from your memories - is it? It’s getting increasingly more challenging to be mindful that Astarion may look and act, well sometimes act, like the same person you knew, but he isn’t.

He no longer becomes shy when you ask him for a kiss; gone are the awkward hugs, the way he used to mutter to himself to test what he was about to say, and the way his eyes would dart away when he said something sweet.

Now, he’s prone to blacked-out fits of violent, deadly rage and can let you burn in the sun at any moment should he choose, force himself into your mind, and take away your agency with a thought. He can turn himself into a bat, mist, and who knows what else. He said he felt his powers growing, and you have a feeling you haven’t seen the full extent of what he can do.

How many people has he killed in his blackouts? How many people has he compelled? Has he compelled you? You have yet to see other spawn, but who knows what he’s hiding.

Yet, you love him all the same - even with his demons, darkness and madness.

In these moments, when things start to feel too much like old times, you can’t help but mourn the man he was – a man you still miss.

I wonder what he would have thought of himself turning me into his spawn? 

Astarion reins his horse to a trot and guides the gelding into a dense thicket with a barely perceptible path. He twists in the saddle, “This way. It’s not far.”

The trees, smelling pleasantly of pine, are towering with thick trunks. A chorus of birdsongs flows like a river softly floating through the air. It’s easy to forget how beautiful nature can be. When was the last time you were out like this during the day?

After several minutes, the thick trees start to thin and give way to a pristine clearing with thick green grass carpeting the ground and a lake. The crystalline water looks as blue as the sky reflecting on its mirror-smooth surface.

“Here we are,” Astarion dismounts his horse. His feet land on the ground in silence; not even the snap of a twig can be heard or the crunch of his boots on the earth.

Your eyes scan the area with reverence. The colours are bright and vivid, as though painted and composed from an artist's rendering of a fairy tale. It’s been some time since you’ve seen anything of such beauty during the day. If you had breath to take away, this would surely confiscate it from your lungs. You pat the mare’s muscled neck, haul yourself up and hop off the saddle much less gracefully than Astarion.

Astarion’s hand comes to the small of your back, “This way. Come.”

He takes your hand and leads you toward thick blankets, pillows, chilled wine, flowers, and candles in a stunning presentation.

“Astarion,” you gasp, below a whisper as you take in the scene, “Did you do this?”

“Yes.” Astarion slips behind you and puts his arms around your waist, hugging you close to his chest, “I thought you might want to get out of the manor for a day.”

You lean into him, “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

“I told you I can be romantic,” he quips with a boyish smile. His cardinal red eyes are set ablaze by the sun glinting off them, “You did not believe I was capable. Before you say it because I can see it on your pretty face, yes, little love, true feelings - they were a requirement, if I recall correctly.”

Do I ruin this moment by asking about what feelings?

I must know.

“What feelings, Astarion?”

Astarion kisses your temple and coos, “My feelings for you, of course. You said you were hungry earlier. I will go find you some food.”

He’s trying to retreat from the conversation.

“No, I’m fine,” you clutch his arm, afraid that if you let him go, you might awaken from this dream. “Stay, please?”

“Are you sure? It would not take me long, and I will be sure to stay close.”

“I’m sure, please.”

“As you wish,” Astarion removes his shirt and lays on the blanket, closing his eyes and basking in the sun. “If you change your mind, you have only but to ask. I do not like letting you go hungry.”

You sit beside him and grab the wine, uncork it and drink it straight from the bottle, disregarding the glass flutes.

He opens one eye momentarily and chuckles, “Hells, I see you’re still as boorish as ever.”

“Oh, shut up,” you giggle while giving him a playful shake, “You used to love my lack of decorum.”

When you used to love me, or at least, I thought you did.

Astarion takes the bottle from you and drinks straight from it with a wink, “Who says I don’t still love it, you delinquent.”

He hands the bottle back and lies back with his eyes closed. There’s something so tranquil about him like this. You can barely believe that just a day ago, he had his hands wrapped around your neck while he tore at your throat. It feels like a distant nightmare and makes you question if it really happened.

Your fingers trace the scabbed, coin-sized holes he marred your skin with as if to prove to yourself it was real. There’s always a dull, icy throbbing in your breast as if you’re heart believes it should be beating and is trying to rival its death. Some days, the pain is easily overlooked, but right now, it feels like someone is driving barbed shards of ice through your heart with a heavy hand and thundering strikes. Bringing your hand to your chest, you put pressure on it as if that might impede the malignancy.

You need a distraction, a physical sensation on your skin that you can focus on before you try to claw your heart out, “Are there any people around here?”

Astarion listens intently for a few seconds before shaking his head, “No, there’s no one around for miles. Why?”

You swallow your anguish and give him a devious grin, “Can I swim in that water?”

He probs himself up and grins, “It’s not running. You should be fine.”

“Excellent,” you giggle, taking another big drink and handing him the bottle.

You remove your clothes and wade in, disturbing and rippling the glassy surface. Diving into it, you let yourself sink to the murky bottom. The water is cold, even to you, and nips your skin like needlepoints being dragged across your flesh. The sunless silence is serene, and you consider letting it swallow you whole, but when you open your eyes toward the surface, you can see the silhouette of Astarion standing on the bank. Bending your knees, with a push, you propel yourself to the surface, to him, because that’s what you do – is it not? You always return to him, even at your detriment.

Astarion’s eyes you regardfully with nervous scrutiny, as if he had been afraid you may never come back.

“It’s cold,” you warn him.

“That’s really not a problem,” he chuckles, relaxing his expression once he’s assessed you’re safe. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

You arch a calculating brow at him, and he rolls his eyes, “Sweetheart, get your head out of the gutter. Gods, you’re a freak sometimes.”

“Another thing you used to love about me,” you snicker while walking up to him. “What would you like to show me?”

“Used to” hm? That’s another wildly inaccurate statement,” Astarion tsks while he takes your hand and places it on his warm skin with a soft exhale and a wince that makes you smirk your “I-told-you-so” look. Slowly, his body cools until he’s as cold as you.

Your brows furrow as you place your hand on random spots of him. Icy cold everywhere. “You can control your body temperature?”

“I can do a great many things,” he chuckles with a cunning lop-sided half smile twerking one corner of his lips up, “Interesting ability, although I have found little use for it until now.”

Before you can register what he’s doing, Astarion giggles mischievously, picks you up and throws you back into the lake as if he were throwing a pebble, removes his trousers and wades in with you.

“That was rude!” You glower at him playfully and tap your chin with your finger, “Retribution may be required. I might have to get your hair wet.”

“Don’t you dare!”

With a wicked grin, you start splashing him, and he lunges toward you. By the time he’s subdued you with his arms wrapped around yours, he’s drenched, including his hair, and you’re both laughing loudly.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he giggles. “Naughty thing.”

Laughing, you comb your fingers through his hair and muss it further, “Don’t worry, you still look earth-shatteringly dashing.”

Astarion brushes wet strands of your hair out of your eyes, “You’re a vision.” He purrs while pulling you close to him, guiding your legs around his waist.

His thumb traces your lower lip. When he takes your lips in his, the kiss is raw with emotion, demanding and primal. His finger puts gentle pressure on your chin, opening your mouth for him, and his tongue explores you with a longing groan.

Astarion abruptly breaks the kiss and stares off to the side, a million miles away. An almost startled confusion distorts his expression, which perplexes you. Have you made him uncomfortable somehow?

“Astarion,” you cradle his face with your palm, “What’s wrong?”

Astarion’s jaw clenches, and he swallows hard, making his Adam's apple bob. His eyes snap back to yours, a scarlet tempest of determination raging athwart his irises, “I think we need to talk.” 

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, I hope you enjoy this, darlings!

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

Please note - we may end up giving Tav a name. I've been agonizing over the idea for a while because it was something I never meant to do, but my resolve is weakening haha. If you're incredibly against the idea, please let me know.

I know my portrayal of A. Astarion is a softer version - I guess I have a weak spot for an Astarion that's all-powerful but still not completely cold and horribly abusive - although, he does have his moments.

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Can i request the react to mc wearing the knight armor outfit they have? It just has so much comedic value it would be a CRIME not to wear it. Especially during poppys dragon quest that would be hilarious. Better if MC is a gryffindor as well since the chivalry thing. The outift has so much potential unexplored.

A/N: lmao I love this

HLC REACT TO MC WEARING A FULL SUIT OF ARMOR

!!CLANKCLANKCLANKCLANK!! MC rushed to meet their friend, sliding to a stop in front of them. The visor has fallen in front of their face and they flip it back up after two failed attempts. They hold a pose then do a spin to show off the dull old armor they found. MC just knows they'll be impressed.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He watches them the whole time they're running up to him. They nearly trip over their own feet and go face first into the dirt. He blinks slowly and shakes his head, maybe he was seeing things. There's no way they were going to pull off a stealth mission in that. "Mental..." Is all he can manage to say out loud.

OMINIS GAUNT: "What is that God awful racket??" He stands perplexed in front of the suit of armor that seemingly just came to life and started walking around. His face was fully contorted in confusion as MC struggled to open the visor. "What are you-...just, what!?"

ANNE SALLOW: Okay, when she admitted that she was actually into the whole "knight in shining armor" trope, she wasn't implying to them to take it seriously. Now they just look silly. Silly enough to make her smile, but silly nonetheless. "You're not actually going out in that, are you?"

IMELDA REYES: She doesn't want to give MC the satisfaction of making her laugh at their goofiness, but watching them try to mount a broom in armor is the funniest thing she's seen in a while. They're so off balance that they look like a new born deer trying to walk over a fence, while also covered in metal. They keep falling into a heap on the ground and she is struggling to keep it together.

NATSAI ONAI: "Oh wow, you can wear the metal suits in the halls? I thought they were just for show. Can I wear one?" Whatever shenanigans MC is up to, she wants in. If MC gives her one, she'll proudly go stomping around the grounds with them.

GARRETH WEASLEY: He quirks his eyebrows and chuckles. "Come on, the explosion wasn't that bad last time. But since you're here, and well protected, care to test my latest brew? I call it Baba Yaga's Bombastic Buttersnipes! It'll be a hit at the Halloween festival this year, I just know it! ...As long as I can figure out how to keep the splash range to less than ten feet." He says the last sentence under his breath.

LEANDER PREWETT: He covers his mouth as he examines MC's choice of wardrobe. He takes his hand away and opens his mouth to say something but words fail him. He covers a sneaking laugh with a cough and covers his mouth again. "Well uh....good on you for really, uh...committing to the whole Gryffindor...pride, yeah...pfff!" He turns away, turning red from holding his laughter.

AMIT THAKKAR: His confusion turns to laughter as MC fights the visor to stay up. "You're really committed to the 'hero' role, aren't you? Got a suit of, somewhat, shining armor and everything. You look like you just stepped out of a story book." He giggles to himself as MC gives him a thumbs up and proudly marches on.

EVERETT CLOPTON: He laughs so hard, he snorts. He covers his face in embarrassment but can't stop laughing. His sides hurt. He's tearing up. MC needs to walk away so he can catch his breath.

POPPY SWEETING: She looks them up and down for maybe a second before doubling over in laughter. "Well I don't think the dragon will have any trouble spotting you!" She wipes a tear from her eye. "I hope you're more agile than you look or you're going to be roasted alive in that."

ELEAZAR FIG: He thought he was used to MC's unusual fashion sense by now. Turns out they can still surprise him. He doesn't say anything of it, just gives them a concerned side eye. Where did they even find a full suit of unenchanted armor that fit? Maybe he should start asking more questions...but life is easier to manage if he doesn't.

[senseless-writing]

Mountain Top Confessions

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x child!reader

Summary: Taking place in S1.E6, the little girl that Geralt took under his wing all those years ago isn't so little anymore. After overhearing something she wasn't supposed to while he and Yennefer argued about the quest to find the golden dragon, the witcher is forced to have a conversation with Orion that he'd been hoping to push off for as long as possible.

Warnings: Hurt feelings, talk of regret, death, etc. Really nothing much

A/N: Here's a story for a trope that's not in demand that nobody asked for, and yet I couldn't help but write! I actually wrote this forever ago and completely forgot about it, but I saw it today and thought I should share it even if it's only in self-service. Lemme know what you think!

Just so you know, this story exists within the world of the other Witcher stories I've written with the oc!character Orion. There are some references to those stories or Orion's life with Geralt in general, but I don't think it's completely necessary to read anything to understand this one.

Masterlist

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

“Did you mean it? What you said to Yennefer?” 

Geralt sighed, his entire body sagging with the release. After his fight with the enraging sorceress who always seemed to find a way under his skin, he had no energy left for anything more. Least of all a defiant tween. 

He turned to look at Orion, who was stepping out from behind the tree from which she was hiding. The Witcher blamed his scattered emotions for the failing of his normally heightened senses. 

“You weren’t supposed to hear any of that…I told you to stay with Jaskier.”

“But did you mean it?” She asked again, stoically, without meeting his gaze. Geralt couldn’t tell what was going through her head. These days, he never could. 

When Orion was little, and her favorite place in the whole world was Geralt’s arms, the witcher didn’t have to worry about finding the right words to say. All he had to do was hold her, and it was like anything and everything that worried her little head would disappear. 

At first, Geralt detested this part of guardianship. It made him feel like a witcher turned cuddler and coddler, and he could feel Vesemir’s disapproving glare from all the way across the Continent. After giving it some thought, though, he figured it was probably for the best. Those who truly knew him knew how verbose he could be, but witty remarks and philosophical ponderings never meant too much to a six year old. 

But now his Orion was twelve. Her eyes were forever wide, never shutting for the fear of missing something worth learning. And she had so many questions that Geralt alone was in charge of answering. He couldn’t wrap her in his arms anymore and pretend the Continent wasn’t confusing or dangerous. He owed her answers, and she deserved his words. 

Geralt hesitated for only a moment. The truth was unfortunate and uncomfortable, and he’d hoped to not have any conversations resembling the one they were about to have until she was older. But it was too late for that now, and he wouldn’t lie to her. 

“Yes.”

Before he could so much as explain, Orion was already rushing away, quickening her steps to meet up with the rest of the group. 

“Wait-”

She didn’t listen.

“Orion. Wait!”

He jogged forward, grabbing her arm and twisting her around to face him. She ripped herself from his grasp at once. Her face was stone cold, but still present were the hints of a curled top lip and the flash of barred teeth.

She looked so much like him when she did that. It nearly made his head spin. 

He cocked his head to the side a little, a warning for her to check her attitude. She didn’t take it.

“Will you let me explain?” he said with an even tone. 

“Explain what? That you regret taking me in?" The powerful rage in Orion's voice was not enough to mask what Geralt knew was lying underneath: deep, overwhelming hurt. "Well, you know what, no one held a knife to your throat and made you! If you didn’t want me, you should’ve done something about it!”

“That is not what I said.”

“You said-”

“Orion!” he shouted, and the child’s mouth clamped shut at once. She could count on one hand the amount of time he’s raised his voice at her. “What I said was that taking you in taught me, more than anything else, that raising a child is not something to be taken lightly. It’s a lesson that Yennefer could benefit from learning.”

The girl bit her lip and wrapped her arms tightly around her middle. “You said raising me taught you that your life isn't suited to a child. That implies regret.” 

“I do have regrets,” he agreed, and he noticed the flicker of insecurity in her gaze. He felt like an ass for putting it there. “Do you want to know why?” 

Orion stayed silent, and he suspected she didn’t want to know at all. He was going to tell her anyway. 

He spoke his next words very softly. “Every minute of every day, I regret not being able to give you the life you deserve.” 

That clearly wasn’t the answer she was expecting. He could tell from the immediate wrinkle of her brow. 

“What?”

He sighed again, averting his eyes to the group behind her. They were making a steady pace up the mountain. And Jaskier, with his slightly codependent nature, kept turning back every few steps to check on his travel companions. Apparently, their yelling was loud enough to attract the attention of even the loudest of bards. 

Their eyes locked, and Geralt nodded once to let him know that everything was alright. Or, at the very least, that it would be. Jaskier didn’t look convinced, but he gave a defeated shrug and turned back around to continue walking. The witcher hesitantly directed his eyes back to Orion, who seemed to be frozen in a state of confusion. 

“Geralt, I don’t understand any of this.” 

“Our life on the path isn’t normal, Orion. You think it is, because it’s all you’ve ever known, but it’s not.”

“I know tha-”

“No, you don’t. You grew up hiding from monsters that most humans never see in their lifetime. By the age of eight, you were well versed in the art of ignoring those on the streets who throw stones as you walk by. And that's…that's not a reflection on you, it’s a reflection on me.”

“But-”

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad about the cards you’ve been dealt. It’s the same way I was raised, it’s all I know. But witchers are a dwindling species for a reason, and the last thing I wanted was to make you a part of our ranks. I never wanted you to be like me.” 

“But I did! I’ve always wanted to be like you.”

Geralt wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He opened his mouth to try, but all that came out was a confused grunt. With a tilted head and lifted brow, the witcher sat there in silence as he struggled to understand. 

How was it possible that after all this time, his sweet, open-hearted Orion still didn’t believe what he knew to be true? He wasn’t the man she thought he was, and the longer she failed to realize that, the longer she would spend wandering blind in the dark. 

Orion took a few steps closer until they were an arms length away. It always shocked the witcher when he noticed how big she had gotten, how much she had changed from the little girl he used to know. “Geralt, people throw rocks at us because they’re afraid of what they don’t understand. You’re the one who told me that.”

“I did, didn’t I?” he averted his eyes. “What was I thinking?” 

Orion’s lips lifted in half a smile.“And people die everyday because they don’t know how to hide from monsters. Most humans don’t even recognize the signs for when one is around. I have a leg up on all of them.” 

“But you wouldn’t be around monsters as often as you are if it wasn't for me.” 

“I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you,” she reminded him sharply. “If you hadn’t found me, I’d probably still be sitting at the entrance of Kaer Morhen. A pile of bones withering to dust.” 

“Don’t say that!” Geralt snapped. His sudden change in tone shocked Orion to her very core, as it was a fiery anger that she'd never before heard directed at her. His eyes were wild and rabid as he stared at her, his entire body tense and shaking. To her, it was an extremely paradoxical image; he'd somehow managed to look terrified and terrifying at the same time.

The witcher had to squeeze his fists to stop himself from saying something he might regret. It wasn’t Orion he was mad at. If anything, it was himself.

Because the idea of his child going through a life-or-death situation should have been something he could only imagine. It should have been a distant nightmare, something that tortured his sleep but eased away once he awoke and realized it was only a figment of his imagination. 

Except that it wasn’t. Not for him. Orion had looked death in the eyes more than he could possibly count, and Geralt was the one leading her directly to it. 

“Don’t,” he repeated again in a clipped tone. “Don’t say things like that. You’re here with me because I made a choice. And while I may regret the implications of that choice, don't ever insinuate, even for a second, that I don’t want my child.” 

Orion was used to him calling her his. And she was, in all the ways that mattered. But it was always still a shock to her heart when he did. 

If Geralt noticed her reaction, he didn’t show it. “You needed me, and I made a choice,” he continued on. “Just as I made a choice to not do the same with my child surprise.” 

Oh, the infamous child surprise. From the little Orion knew, the whole thing ranked somewhere high on Geralt’s top ten list of the stupidest things he’s ever done. 

She wouldn’t pretend to understand why he was so insistent on ignoring the existence of someone he was connected to. “What if they need you too one day?” she asked. “What then?”

“He’s a prince of the largest and fiercest kingdom in all the North. He’s got people pleading for the honor of wiping his arse. I doubt he needs the help of a lowly witcher.” 

Or she, Orion thought absently. And perhaps a little dreamily. What luck it would be if Geralt was tied to a princess.

“Kingdoms fall everyday, Geralt. You also said that.” 

“Let's stop using my words against me, yeah? I’ll have to start keeping track of what I say around you.” 

Orion didn’t respond, staring back at him with an expectant glare. 

“Orion,” he leveled with her. “If Cintra falls, he’ll have dozens of people whose sole responsibility is to take the sword for him. He’ll be alright.” 

“And you’re sure of that?” Orion implored. “You can sleep peacefully at night knowing that maybe, just maybe, there’s a kid out there who might one day be as helpless as I was? A kid that, unlike me, is entitled to your protection?” 

“The only person entitled to my protection is you.” 

They were at a stand still, and after a moment of nothing but silence and a gentle breeze passing between them, Orion decided to let it go. She didn’t even berate him for ignoring her question. Because truly, she knew the answer already. She knew that every night, when he thought she was asleep, he rose and paced in circles for hours on end. The sound of him incessantly cleaning his swords had become white noise for her throughout the night. In fact, Orion couldn’t remember the last time she actually saw him sleep; really sleep, that is. Because Geralt wasn’t nearly as much of a master at pretending as he thought he was. 

So instead, all she did was try and direct the conversation back to its original topic. If Geralt wanted to be pig headed about the situation he put himself in, then fine. That wasn’t her main concern. 

At least, not right now it wasn’t. 

“Okay, well,” she sighed, struggling to change subjects without making it sound awkward. Suddenly, this whole conversation felt awkward. She felt stupid for being insecure, and she felt even more stupid for bringing up Cintra when she knew he’d shut down. “You don’t have to worry about not giving me the ‘life I deserve,’ or whatever it is you regret. I quite like the one I have.” 

Geralt remembers her saying something to that effect before. She’s probably said it a number of times by now. But it never mattered, never meant anything real to him. It felt too comparable to a mutt saying that it quite liked its cage. 

So he stayed silent. That alone spoke volumes to Orion. 

“You’re never going to believe me, are you?” she groaned with an exasperated tone. “No matter what I say?” 

He gave her an honest look. “It’s not likely.”

Orion surged forward at once, crashing into his chest with a resounding thud. The witcher barely had time to catch himself, but even as he took a step back to regain his balance, his arms were firmly wrapped around her. 

This wasn’t at all how he imagined this conversation going. He could’ve sworn she was mad at him not ten seconds ago. 

She smushed her face tight to his side, and Geralt strained to hear what she said next. “Can you at least try to understand that I want to be here? With you?”

It’s bothering her, he thought to himself as he rested his chin on her head. And she’s too stubborn to let it go. 

“Can you try to understand that I want you here?” he answered her question with one of his own. 

He felt her nod against his chest, which he supposed was enough. Though truth be told, Geralt wasn’t much for changing. 

And unfortunately, neither was Orion. 

He would never forgive himself for his shortcomings. Day after day, mistake after mistake, Geralt looked back and saw all the ways that he could’ve done better at raising her. He wasn’t used to failing at a job; Vesemir had raised him better than that. And in his eyes, caring for the girl in front of him was the ultimate job. 

But he hadn’t been prepared for it. 

And Orion would never be able to ignore the feeling that a part of them was missing. A part of Geralt, really. It was something he refused to acknowledge, refused to accept. It would gnaw at him forever until he did, and the idea of that continued to gnaw at her. 

This painful circle of lies where one swallowed their truth for the sake of the other was tense and never ending, and it was difficult to pretend that they both weren’t craving something that they desperately needed. For Geralt, a chance to start over. A chance to give Orion the family she should’ve had from the beginning, the one he ripped her from when they left Kaer Morhen. And for Orion, something that would ease Geralt’s mind once and for all. 

Years ago, on that day they’d met one another, each of them had been given something new. A different life, a fresh start. It was all they needed back then. But not anymore. 

Ignoring it would get them nowhere. It was clear now, even if neither of them could voice it, that something else was needed. 

Something more.

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

(A/N: This ending is definitely catered towards the book fans out there haha)

[unboundprompts]

Pirate Prompts Inspired by Songs

-> writing prompts from the lyrics of songs that give off pirate vibes. feel free to edit as you see fit.

"You ain't welcome 'round here anymore. You might as well go." - Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison

"Kick him in the head and throw him over." - Drunken Sailor by aeseaes

"Tear this place apart and leave not but a single shred. Tonight we'll be much richer men, tonight they'll all be dead!" - Side Quest by The dread Crew of Oddwood

"So, you want to be immortal with a loaded gun?" - Start a War by Klergy, Valerie Broussard

"He wiped the blood from his face as he slowly came to his knees. He said, 'I'll be back when you least expect it. And hell's coming with me."' - Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison

"I sold my soul to the calling." - Fire by Barns Courtney

"Abandon everything you know, sail with us and we'll show you what it means to be alive" - Abandon Ship by fin

"No second life, no second try." - Side by Side by Storm Seeker

"You line your pockets full of money that you steal from the poor." - Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison

"Dance my dear like the raging seas. Sway my ship until the sun rises. Spin like the wind like there was no tomorrow and the end was near." - Into The Night by Firkin

"Whisper your siren's song to every girl who comes along." - Vixen by Destroy Boys

"So much I have lost and so much I resent." - Only Us by Miracle Of Sound

"They didn't know him by his face, but by the gun around his waist." - Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison

"Pain is what you desire." - Start a War by Klergy, Valerie Broussard

"We've drunk a couple bottles and set our grief aside." - As the World Caves In by Matt Maltese

"Sold my soul to the barrel and the devil set me free." - Into The Night by Firkin

"I am the devil that you forgot." - Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison

"This is our ship, and we're your crew." - Abandon Ship by fin

"Let the sin we swim in drown us." - Only Us by Miracle Of Sound

"You sail among liars." - Start a War by Klergy, Valerie Broussard

"I'm dying to feel again, anything at all. But I feel nothing." - Gold by Imagine Dragons

"I know you're out there in the shadows." - Dear Fellow Traveller by Sea Wolf

"A pirate's life is hard to live, but the treasure will help, no doubt." - Side by Side by Storm Seeker

"Glory and gore go hand in hand." - Glory And Gore by Lorde

"We've got nothing left to lose." - The Captain's Dead by Paddy And The Rats

"Don't ask for me to lie then beg for forgiveness for making you cry." - Human by Rag'nBone Man

"If they think they're better still, I'll bring them to their knees." - Sticks and Stones by Ye Banished Privateers

"We lost a good ship to the depths." - The Voyage of the James Caird by Graeme James

"The rain and sea and storm winds crashed against our ship with wrath." - The Flying Dutchman by The Jolly Rogers

[uhohwhathaveidone]

Nah cause what if Sebastian x slytherin reader right where your helping in him in his quests but you get attacked and reader gets knocked out and he’s mad n protective

"I've only had reader for a few day bit if anything happens to them i will curse everyone in this room and then myself"

My Knight (S.S)

I hate spiders. That's a lie, I just don't like them if they're too close. Love peacock spiders though. So cute. Based off that alone, we're dealing with that one quest with the spiders. So, there's a warning for you, also I haven't been able to play the game still, my pc is still refusing, so do I know what's going on? No. Did I call the giant spider the BroodMother while only thinking about that horrible darkspawn from Dragon Age? Yes. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, I'm posting rather early so I might start on another request tonight. <3

     You sucked in a breath as you shouted another spell at the spiders that surrounded you, desperate to keep them away. You glanced over to Sebastian, who was shouting his own spells at the spiders. You quickly cast a protection spell as you sprinted over, kicking a smaller spider away from Sebastian’s legs. “They keep coming! What are we supposed to do?” You shouted, throwing Stupefy at a spider that jumped at you. Sebastian shouted, bumping into your back, causing you to stumble. You turned to him, trying to see what had happened, when your eyes widened.

     A giant spider crawled from a hole in the side of the cave, its long legs towering over you while causing the ground to tremble beneath you. Its eyes shined red as it slowly crawled over to you, letting out a screech that made your eardrums rattle. “It’s the Brood Mother! I think that’s what they call her?” Sebastian shouted, grabbing onto your arm, and pulling you towards him. You watched as the smaller spiders scurried away, afraid of their giant counterpart. You readied your wand as you watched her, narrowing your gaze as you looked for a weak point. Without warning she ran at you, nearly knocking you into a wall with her leg. You threw spell after spell at her, a mix of red and yellow emitting from your wand. Sebastian had gotten separated from you, attacking the giant spider from the other side of the cave.

     You didn’t have many spells at your disposal, so you turned to using spells to throw the giant rocks around you, knocking out one of her legs. You watched as she spun around, trying to pick a target, and you quickly shouted to Sebastian as you dodged an attack. “Go for her legs!” “Got it!” You continued to dodge attacks and cast spells at the spider, quietly begging for her to go down, as your arms got tired. You watched as Sebastian threw a decent-sized rock with his wand, hitting her in the head and sending hundreds of broken stones into her eyes, causing her to flail and spin in panic. You felt victory hover in the air as you sent another stone flying, hitting her in the head once again. She let out a final screech as she tumbled to the ground, legs going limp around her as she hit the stone.

     You breathed a sigh of relief as you looked over to Sebastian, who let out a triumphant cheer as he tried to catch his breath. You put your wand into your robe as you made your way over to him, stepping over rocks that broke off in your fight. You smiled as you reached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” Sebastian nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, yeah. But I think spiders just made it to the top of the Bugs I Hate list.” You chuckled as you shook your head. “Spiders aren’t technically bugs, though. They’re like their own species.” You joked, watching as Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Whatever they are, I don’t like them in the slightest anymore.”

     “Does this mean that next time you see a spider, you’re going to ask me to kill it for you?” Sebastian scoffed, crossing his arms as he turned away from you, looking at some of the rocks that surrounded him. “Of course not. Just, don’t ask me to take care of one if its bigger than a Sovereign.” You laughed, noting the fact and looking around the cave. “Come look at this,” Sebastian said, waving his hand to you as you walked over. He held one of the stones in his hand, its surface shining in the soft light of a nearby torch. You leaned closer, examining the stone, as Sebastian watched you, a light blush creeping to his cheeks at the closeness. “It looks like quartz. Could this have been an old mine?” You asked, looking up at Sebastian as you leaned away, fixing your posture. Sebastian shrugged as he began to explain just how quartz mines worked to you. You listened, of course, no longer paying attention to your surroundings.

     Behind you, the giant legs of the spider twitched, slowly retracting to her body as she regained consciousness. Slowly, she used her front legs to move some rocks away from her eyes, rolling onto the ground. Your ears perked as you heard the rocks make contact with the ground, the hair on the back of your neck standing up and making you uneasy. You watched Sebastian as he continued to talk, glancing around you. The spider, now free of sharp stones, stood up, looking where the two of you stood. “It’s a wonder why so many old works of art weren’t taken down and recycled, could have used them, pity.” Sebastian said, tossing the stone back onto the ground. Alerted, the spider trained her eyes on you, preparing an attack. You looked over your shoulder to where you had left the spider, eyes widening as you realized your mistake. “What do you think about it all? Would it still-“ You cut Sebastian off as you grabbed the collar of his robe, yelling for him to move as you used the remaining strength you had left to pull him from where he was standing, sending him to the ground behind you as you watched the spider slam into the wall, right where he was originally standing.

     Sebastian let out a shriek as he watched the spider, one that he thought was dead, shake its head as it retracted from the wall. You quickly reached for your wand, casting a shield charm as a leg slammed down in front of you. “I thought we killed the thing?” Sebastian shouted, scrambling to his feet and pulling out his own wand. You shook your head, sending off a spell at its eyes. “Stupid! How did I not realize!” You shouted at yourself as you spun and grabbed Sebastian, running. “It was so obvious!” You continued, “She didn’t die like the other spiders, remember?” Sebastian nodded, trying to cast another spell at the spider. “This time, we fight until she’s on her back and curled up!”

     You gasped for air as you kept up your attack, throwing rock after rock at the spider as Sebastian unleashed his own onslaught. You struck one of its eyes with another rock, running to Sebastian as the spider spun once again. You ran faster as you saw one of its legs rise, beginning to bring it down, its target Sebastian. You yelled his name as you reached for him, casting a spell to push him back as the spider’s leg made contact, sending you flying back. Sebastian shouted your name, watching as you tumbled across the stones and finally coming to halt, your wand tossed beside you. There was no way to reach you as the spider continued its own attack, its sharp legs making dents in the stone below it. Sebastian was hit with an idea, and he quickly shouted at the spider, running around it. He found a boulder that had been split in half, and he raised his wand and sent it flying at the spider, slicing through one of its legs.

     “Accio!” Sebastian brought the leg towards him as he shouted for the spider’s attention. Both him and the spider were angered beyond reasoning, and the spider let out another screech as it stood taller, ready to tear into Sebastian, who only stood there. He smiled, watching as the spider straightened its legs, exposing the underside of its abdomen. Without hesitation, Sebastian launched the leg back to its owner, its sharp tip burrowing into the stiff exoskeleton, sending the spider to rear up as it screeched in pain, eventually falling backwards and twitching. Sebastian watched as it slowly died, making sure that it stayed dead, before turning to where you still laid, unmoving.

     “Y/n!” He breathed as he dropped to your side, turning you onto your back. His eyes widened as he held your head up, blood slowly trickling down into the small puddle that had formed under you. “No, come on! You can’t let a bug take you out!” He shouted, his shaking hands reaching for his wand as he racked his brain for a spell to heal your wound. The faint sound of scurrying legs sounded from the hall you walked through to get to where you were now, a small group of spiders quickly making their way over. “Not now, not now.” Sebastian whispered, tapping the wand to his head. Quickly, his eyes widened as a spell came to mind, and he quickly flipped his want and whispered “Episkey”. The gash on your head began to heal itself, the blood vanishing from your face and the ground. You were still out, however, and Sebastian lifted you from the group and brought you to the side of the cave, leaning you against its wall and standing in front of you, wand raised as the small spiders moved into the room.

     A few moments later the final spider rolled over, legs curling in as it died. Sebastian let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he looked around in case there were any more hiding around. You squinted, glancing around. Your head throbbed slightly as you brought your hand up, brushing against where the gash had been. You squinted as you looked at Sebastian’s silhouette, his shoulders raising and dropping quickly as he sucked in air. You smiled, looking around at the dead spiders. “Keep breathing like that,” you started, sitting yourself up more, “You’ll probably drop like those spiders.” Sebastian turned to you, a sigh of relief leaving him as he dropped his knee to take a look at you. “You’d find that funny, wouldn’t you?” You nodded, smiling. Sebastian grabbed your face, turning it to check your head. His calloused hand rested under your chin, gently moving your head around. “How’s your head, then?” He asked, letting you go. You shrugged, feeling the dull throb as it slowly faded. “I’m fine, thanks to you I suppose?” Sebastian smiled as he nodded, standing up and offering his hand.

     You looked over to where the mother laid, her legs retracted to her body as rigor mortis set in. You raised your eyebrows in surprise as you noticed one of its legs missing, finding it protruding from her body. You looked at Sebastian, surprised yet impressed as he shrugged. “Couldn’t let her take you out before I did.” You scoffed, slowly walking towards the spider. Sebastian quickly grabbed your sleeve as he pulled you away, shaking his head. “Look, I’m sure I can kill a giant bug. No need to double check.” You chuckled as you shook your head, opening your mouth. “No, don’t even! I’m going to call it a bug if I want to.” You closed your mouth, choosing to smile instead. You looked around for your wand, realizing that it wasn’t in your hand. Sebastian cleared his throat to get your attention, and you turned to see him holding your wand in his hand. You sighed, walking over and reaching for the wand, only for Sebastian to hold it above your head and out of reach. You frowned, narrowing your gaze as you glared at Sebastian. “I do believe I deserve something in return?” You shook your head as you leaned closer to Sebastian, placing a small kiss on his cheek and then snatching your wand from his hand.

     Sebastian stood there, shocked, as you fixed your robes. “Whatever would I do without you, my dear Knight?” Sebastian stuttered, quickly fixing his hair as his cheeks heated up. “Probably not get attacked by giant spiders, for one.” You nodded, placing your wand into your pocket. “Although,” Sebastian started, slowly walking over to you. “I don’t think a cheeky kiss is enough for the trauma I went through to protect you.” You chuckled, pretending to be deep in thought. “Of course, a killer of spiders should be given a better reward.” With that, you quickly leaned against Sebastian again, this time placing a soft kiss to his lips and walking towards the hall, turning back and waiting for Sebastian. He quickly followed you, slightly whining. “Are you even going to ask me how I did it?” “I figured you’d tell me on the walk back, you can never stay quiet about these things.” “I find that rude, but I suppose I’ll tell you.”

[ravenalla]

Okay I swear this will be my last rant post before the next episode airs but I have to get it off my chest cause I keep seeing the argument made that people disappointed Din gave the darksaber away are forgetting the lack of plot in the previous seasons, which I very heavily disagree.

I can’t speak for everyone, but at least for me when I’m saying I’m disappointed Din did not become Manda’lor I am not saying I hated the adventure of the week side quest format they had. That’s what I liked best about the show! It was great in season 1 feeling like Din was just the random guy off on his own adventure with this baby he found, I would have loved for it to have kept that small space western feel. Season 3 becoming this big interconnected universe with a corrupted New Republic plot connecting to the sequels is what I was most worried about just because I personally don’t like that direction. The more they’ve tried to go the Andor route and make this show about the Galatic politics, the worst it’s become imo (we literally have two white dudes writing a plot point about droids liking being underclass and serving the soft democratic people that is ruled with the help of a former Nazi, but ohh it’s okay it’s Jack Black and he’s funny and the Space Nazi and the Space Nazi doctor are really sorry for what they did, look the New Republic is just as bad as the fascist imperials 🥺🥺)

What some people are not getting is that the darksaber is ALL. DIN. HAD. LEFT. There was no driving force or goal for him after episode 2, they reunited him with his child in a spin-off show, they have him redeem himself fairly easily without any emotional impact, and now they took away the opportunity to do one last interesting thing with him. Din does not have his own actions or thoughts throughout most of the season, and when he does it’s just retracing the character development they already gave him in previous seasons (i.e. the whole droid fiasco). He’s a plot device, meant to further Bo-Katan’s character and help her with her goals or have him in danger so she can save him. It was okay if Din did not become Manda’lor, but they can’t just make him having the darksaber out to be a huge deal, show him trying to learn how to train with it, and give it up so stupidly through a loophole just so Bo-Katan can lead again when she has done nothing to actually earn it or apologize for the way she disrespected Din’s entire culture again and again. She was a terrorist who has done a 180 into suddenly being an honorable character just because of a few action scenes, no introspection or interesting conflict between her and the covert about their differences, nothing about her actually thinking about her past mistakes, just the covert being there to look like dumbasses who settled on a dangerous planet where their children get eaten so Bo can lead missions, look a million times more competent in comparison, and suddenly be the one who deserves to lead.

There doesn’t have to be a big plot each episode, but it’s not being executed well like it was in the first two seasons. The goal was getting Grogu to a Jedi, and we were given the interesting side adventures on that journey. Din needs to find somewhere he can lay low, he goes to Sorgan and becomes tempted by a domestic life. Din needs credits, he takes a job with some old acquaintances and sees what kind of slimy person he could have been. Din needs to find other mandos to help him find a Jedi, he runs into a small town desperate for help with a Krayt Dragon and showcases his pride in being a Mandalorian but his respect for other cultures and his willingness to do the right thing. He travels to a planet ruled by an former Imperialist because the Jedi he was searching for was there and helps her to save a town both for their sake and his need to give his son the best life he can have. See the pattern? They were side adventures, but they weren’t a random hodgepodge of ideas, they fit the story and the tone, giving us interesting side characters and helping to develop our main characters. Din showed his leadership, his growing kindness, his frustrations, his annoyances, his fears, Grogu becomes more adventurous, vocal, and attached to who he’s starting to see as a father figure. They both aren’t talkative characters, but they had feelings and personalities we saw. They had moments between them that wasn’t just exposition for the plot or a push towards an action scene, it showed their lives and values, their relationships. Little moments like Din being happy to hear Grogu’s name, Cobb sharing his story and why he valued the armor, Omera talking with Din about his life and wondering if he could stay, Frog Lady wanting to get her eggs safely to her husband and Din comedically trying to make that happen. The story was driven by these characters decisions and their personalities.

Season 3, on the other hand, has taken away all the life of these side adventures in its goal to tie in a larger Star Wars narrative that connects to other shows. They are not character driven anymore, and instead the characters are being twisted and molded to do and say stuff that’ll get us from point A to point B instead of the other way around. The point of Din breaking his creed is not to see what that would mean for his identity or how he wants to live with Grogu by his side, the point is to take him to Mandalore so that he can ultimately get trapped and fall down a hole so Bo-Katan can see the Mythosaur. The point of Bo-Katan’s crew leaving her and her staying in a random castle for no reason doing nothing all day isn’t for her to recognize her past failings or show us what their relationship was like and what it meant to her, it’s to have an easy offscreen explanation so that she can come to the covert without anything challenging in the way. The point of Din’s coverts staying on a monster-infested planet where Paz’s son is kidnapped isn’t because it makes sense they’d be there or that Paz suddenly even has a son we’ve never seen before, it’s so they can put in CGI monsters they thought were cool and have Bo save the day so they can have a flimsy reason she does need to be leader again. The point of spending time with the covert and having random pirates attacking Nevarro wasn’t to develop the other mandalorians as actual characters, it was to have them accept Bo easily so that she can “walk both worlds” and give Carl Weather’s character more screentime. And so much more.

Things are happening, but it doesn’t matter whether they make sense or fit the characters anymore, because all the side quest are focused on is bending over backwards trying to make you believe this Bo deserves the darksaber narrative. Before that it wasn’t like the Covert was planning to take back Mandalore, Din wasn’t planning to take back Mandalore, Bo didn’t tell anybody what she saw so there was no real stakes for anybody. Nobody in the main plot has had any purpose as more than side characters besides her. Din may have been the main character, but the people he met on his journey didn’t just do stuff to contribute to his own character or finding a Jedi. Omera had her own goals, Cobb had his own goals, Fennec had her own goals, Boba had his own goals, and they all still worked well with the narrative without diminishing each other, Din developed on the way by learning from the other characters and them him. What the fuck does Din want this season? Paz? The Armorer? The answer is whatever will make it easiest for the plot to retake Mandalore and have Bo be the Manda’lor for these writers, despite it being shown previously they have no reason to care or like Bo-Katan.

Like, some character moments are there. Bo is changing. I’m not saying that’s not happening at all. But it’s being done in a way that is sabotaging every other aspect of the show to force this plot that they wanted, the sidequest are feeling duller because they aren’t for these characters to have fun adventures we get emotionally invested in that simultaneously furthers the actual main characters goal, it’s let’s just have a CGI dragon, let’s have Lizzo and Jack Black guest star, let’s have Zeb from Rebels be in there for no reason. Unless again you count Bo as the main character, but like honestly she’s not even having natural character development. She went from being an antagonistic ex-terrorist to suddenly being kind and charitable with hardly any buildup or insight into her feelings. It doesn’t feel organic. I know she lost everything, but they still made it seem like she blamed Din for it only to have her rescue him once and completely abandon that hostility. The best we really have gotten is Grogu remembering his past while with the armorer and setting up his future as a Mandalorian, but even that feels cheapened when the armor he was given isn’t even talked about with the person who he shares the symbol with him that signifies their relationship, making me think it’s just another merchandise decision.

We wanted Din to learn to rule because, even if we did have to say goodbye to the adventure of the week type format, it would have been in service of his character evolving into something he doesn’t think he deserves or is good at. It would have been the next step in his journey, accumulating everything he has learned, the growth he went through using both diplomacy and his skills as a fighter time and time again. Instead, they chose to really quickly ditch any of the conflicts he had so they could have him free to do this instead. If they had waited one more season, this could have possibly been done well imo. Din’s arcs could have been brought to a meaningful and satisfying conclusion, and then you could have made him and Bo-Katan become co-leads. It wouldn’t have mattered as much then if they decided to focus a little more on her. But instead they essentially abandoned Din’s story they’ve spent two seasons creating to go ahead and tell her own.

The side quest aren’t what people are complaining about. It’s that they have no meaning for our characters other than having everybody circling around Bo most of the time or creating some big connection to the sequel triology and setting up the Star Wats MCU, which wasn’t the style of writing this show did. I don’t care how many ways people want to argue against it, Din is not the main character in this season, which is not what they have been selling us all year, and he doesn’t even have any engaging story or arc as a side character either. That is the problem, and that is why these side quest and the lack of an actual plot do not work.

[mysticlillybett]

Uh oh! New special interest!

Got into Dragon Quest, specifically the Builders spin offs and the first 3 games, thanks to a Switch sale. I am in LOVE! I love seeing how the franchise evolved throughout each entry.

Can't wait to get further into the series and enter the struggle of being an English speaking fan :P

[fallloverfic]

The Tomb of Dragons by Katherine Addison to release on 11 March 2025

The end of Sarah Monette/Katherine Addison's The Cemeteries of Amalo trilogy, a spin-off of The Goblin Emperor (together known as The Chronicles of Osreth) has been listed as releasing on 11 March 2025, with cover art by Sachin Teng, design by Esther Kim, and there's now a summary:

"Thara Celehar has lost his ability to speak with the dead. When that title of Witness for the Dead is gone, what defines him?

While his title may be gone, his duties are not. Celehar contends with a municipal cemetery with fifty years of secrets, the damage of a revethavar he’s terrified to remember, and a group of miners who are more than willing to trade Celehar’s life for a chance at what they feel they’re owed.

Celehar does not have to face these impossible tasks alone. Joining him are his mentee Velhiro Tomasaran, still finding her footing with the investigative nature of their job; Iäna Pel-Thenhior, his beloved opera director friend and avid supporter; and the valiant guard captain Hanu Olgarezh.

Amidst the backdrop of a murder and a brewing political uprising, Celehar must seek justice for those who cannot find it themselves under a tense political system. The repercussions of his quest are never as simple they seem, and Celehar’s own life and happiness hang in the balance."

[greninjazac]

Travel buddies of a fantasy world: ninja and fox (closed NSFW RP

@rpnightlife

A billowing roar rang across the forest as an irate dragon took its last breath, its body covered in deep cuts and an incredibly nasty one across its chest that was leaking blood and fluids from its flame sac. The mighty beast collapsed onto the ground with a mighty thud as its slayer drew near. A fairly young looking ninja stood in front of the deceased dragon’s head, blades of pure water still formed in his hands before one of them morphed into the shape of a ninja start and started spinning. He held one of the beast’s horns and started to slowly cut it off to give to the adventurer’s guild as proof that he slayed the dragon and accept the quest reward.

It took a while, but he soon removed it and puts the horn in his inventory. He smiled momentarily before it faded. He was victorious but he had nobody to share it with…..he never really did try and make a proper party, afraid of getting attached only to loose that person like how he lost a special someone years ago. The fear of loosing another dissipated over the years as the feeling of loneliness overcasted it. Honestly, he could go for any travel companion at this point, he welcomed any company at this point. He was so lost in thought that he couldn’t hear the approaching footsteps

[slutty-transformation-stories]

A founding quest

Elara, a young wizard with eyes that pierced the veil of secrets, roamed the dusty shelves of her small village library. Her curiosity was a ravenous beast that consumed knowledge like a dragon devoured gold. Her fingers danced over the spines of the books, feeling the ancient power that lay dormant within their pages. The village, nestled in the crook of a mountain range, was a place where whispers of magic were as common as the rustling of leaves. Yet, Elara felt stifled by the simple incantations and spells taught to her by the village elders. Her spirit craved more—the darker, more potent arcane that was said to lie hidden in the forgotten places of the world.

One sweltering afternoon, she found a book that was not like the others. Its leather was scarred and worn, as if it had borne witness to aeons of time. The title was written in a language she had never seen, but the words seemed to pulse with life under her touch. Intrigued, she opened the book and immediately felt a rush of power, a seductive whisper that promised her the keys to unlock the very fabric of reality. The pages spoke of a place, a hidden library deep in the heart of the forest, where the most powerful and dangerous artifacts lay waiting for someone daring enough to claim them.

Her heart raced as she studied the book's instructions, committing them to memory. The journey to the library would be fraught with danger, but the rewards were too tantalizing to ignore. Elara gathered her meager belongings, donned her robe, and set off into the unknown, her eyes gleaming with excitement and a hint of madness.

The forest grew denser as she ventured deeper, the trees stretching their gnarled branches towards her like skeletal hands seeking warmth. Shadows danced on the forest floor, and the air grew thick with the scent of earth and moss. It was here, amidst the whispers of the ancient trees, that she encountered Caelan. He was tall, with piercing eyes that seemed to hold the very essence of the night sky. His clothes were tattered, but there was something undeniably alluring about his mysterious aura. He offered to guide her through the labyrinthine woods to the hidden library. She accepted, her pulse quickening at the thought of what lay ahead.

The journey was long and fraught with peril, but Caelan's knowledge of the forest was unmatched. He taught her to listen to the whispers of the trees and the cries of the nocturnal creatures, to navigate the shadowed paths that led to the library's entrance. It was a journey that tested her resolve, her courage, and her very essence. But Elara was not one to be deterred. She followed Caelan into the heart of the woods, her ambition burning brighter with every step.

Finally, they reached the clearing where the library stood, a monolithic structure of stone and vine that seemed to breathe with an ancient and malevolent intelligence. The very air around it hummed with arcane energy, sending a shiver down Elara's spine. She could feel the power within, a siren's call that grew louder with every step closer. Caelan, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable, whispered a final warning before he led her through the arched doorway

.

Inside, the library was a cavernous maze of shelves and dust-covered tomes that stretched into the gloom. The air was thick with the scent of ancient inks and crumbling parchment, a smell that made her head spin with excitement. Her eyes widened as she took in the sheer volume of knowledge, her heart swelling with greed for the power that lay within. Caelan, ever the enigmatic guide, pointed her to the most obscure and powerful books, his voice a low murmur that seemed to resonate through the very stones of the building.

Elara pored over the texts, her mind racing with the possibilities of what she could become. The spells and incantations within spoke of dominion over the very elements themselves, of the ability to bend the wills of men and gods. Her hands trembled as she touched the pages, feeling the power surge through her. It was then she discovered the ring, nestled within the pages of a book titled "The Art of Control." It was a simple band of black metal, adorned with a crimson stone that pulsed like a beating heart. The moment it slid onto her finger, she knew she had found the ultimate tool of her conquest.

With the ring on her finger, she turned to Caelan, her eyes gleaming with newfound authority. "You have served your purpose," she said coldly. "Now, you will be my servant, as will everyone else in this village." She felt the ring's power surge through her, and she watched with a thrill as Caelan's eyes glazed over, his will bending to her own. "Guide me through the rest of the library," she commanded, "and show me the true extent of your knowledge."

The transformation of the village was swift and brutal. The townspeople, once free-thinking individuals, now walked the streets in a daze, their eyes vacant, their actions dictated by Elara's will. They constructed her tower with a fervor that bordered on worship, each stone laid with a whisper of her name. The altar grew in the town square, a symbol of her power, and the source of her dark enchantments that kept the village in her thrall.

But Elara was not content with simple obedience. She craved more—the absolute submission of every person who set foot in her domain. And so, she crafted the aura of control, a spell that would snare the minds of all newcomers. The first traveler to enter the village after the spell was cast was a burly warrior, his eyes filled with suspicion and distrust. Yet, as he stepped over the invisible boundary, the aura wrapped around him like a lover's embrace, and he too became hers to command.

Elara's reign grew more depraved with each passing day. She used her newfound power to indulge in every dark desire, turning the village into a playground for her twisted whims. The townspeople, now her devoted succubi, sought to sate her insatiable hunger for lust and power. Yet, as she reveled in her newfound control, she could not help but feel the stirrings of a deeper, more primal need—the desire to expand her dominion beyond the confines of the village and into the world beyond. Her eyes turned to the horizon, and she knew that her true destiny was still out there, waiting for her to claim it.

The townspeople, once a vibrant and diverse community, had become an extension of Elara's will. They were her eyes and ears, her hands and legs, her instruments of desire and destruction. Each night, she would stand atop her tower, watching over her domain with a cold, calculating gaze. The whispers of the library had become a chorus in her mind, urging her to greater heights of power, to conquer and consume all that stood before her.

And so, with Caelan at her side—his mind forever bound to her by the cursed ring