#I need to work on my astarion shrine

[evildeerboy]

i like rowlet a little

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

A Quiet Love

Sorry for the lack of updates. Been very busy with schoolwork and fell sick today. Still, here's my latest need to cuddle with Astarion.

Oh I also went to Anime Impulse at Seattle and gosh that was fun. Bought an Astarion print and a standee to start my Astarion shrine in my cupboard, bought a wooden magnet carving of a rly cute egg sushi, bought some stuff for my friends back home too.

Summary: You have a nightmare and Astarion chases it away in his own way.

Ragged breaths tear through you as you run through the trees, clutching your bleeding side with one hand and wiping away your sweat with the other. You can hear the shouts of your pursuers, hear the thundering hooves of the horses some of them are riding, all of which spur your feet onwards in spite of the screams from your muscles.

Your head spins and you nearly fall over. You won’t last long in this chase, they will catch and torture you before executing you in front of the whole town, exactly as the oracle had predicted. Still, if that is your destiny, you’re not about to just roll over and let them have you. If they want you, they are going to have to work for it.

You stumble in a zigzag pattern, darting in and out of your pursuers’ sight and hear their hollers of frustration, causing you to grin. Your pursuers are terrible at their job if they can’t even catch a wounded target. You nearly laugh out loud, stopped only by the blood that bubbles up your throat when you try.

Even so, they inevitably catch up to you. With how your vision keeps giving way, there is no other outcome, but you continue to be defiant, resisting their capture even as the black spots worm their way in.

“Come on, scared of injured prey?” You cough, sending a bloody grin their way. Your pursuers move closer, encircling you but they maintain their distance, much to your amusement. You can feel your lifeblood leaving your body, you won’t last much longer and yet they’re still so afraid of you.

Your fingers curl, ready to fight as hard as you can before they take you when a fireball incinerates half the pursuers, leaving nothing but blackened ash. A war cry follows suit, revealing a tiefling with one horn and a githyanki warrior charging into the fray swinging their weapons which takes out most of the remaining pursuers.

Your gaze flicks about the battlefield, looking for a particular pale elf but you don’t see him amidst the chaos of it all. One of your remaining pursuers, however, spots you and moves in from behind, gladius primed to strike but a dagger plunges into his neck before he gets the chance.

“You really need to watch your back more, my love. I can’t watch it for you forever.”

Your eyes light up when you see who it is, the urge to run over and jump into his arms tugging at your heart but all you can manage is a hasty stumble in his direction, a silent yelp leaving your lips as gravity pulls your body downwards, straight at the ground.

“Falling for me again?” A pair of cold arms wrap themselves around you, stopping your descent. You heave a relieved sigh, closing your eyes as you lean into the cooling embrace of your vampire lover, feeling your body give out without an adrenaline high to sustain it anymore.

“I will always fall for you,” you murmur tiredly. You feel your body sag against his, feel his panic as he realises you’re bleeding out all over the ground. His voice rises a pitch, sharp fingernails digging ever so slightly into your flesh and you want to comfort him, reassure him that you’re not going anywhere but your muscles refuse to move and you can’t do anything about it.

“Darling, stay with me. As tasty as you look leaking blood, you’re leaking too much blood.” He holds you close, trying to staunch the bleeding with one hand while the other haphazardly rummages through the bag for a healing potion.

“Too…much…? I thought…you’d…appreciate it…” You’re getting dizzier and dizzier, with more of your vision fading to black. His red eyes pierce the veil that’s being drawn over your eyes, willing you to stay awake but the pull of the void is too strong, you can’t hold on anymore.

“Well, you see love…love? Love!”

And the world turns black.

You wake up with a start, chest heaving and sweat running down your back.

A nightmare. A rather vivid one at that.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, willing your thundering heart to calm down before it can wake the trancing vampire next to you but his movements suggest that he has already woken up.

“Nightmare?” He murmurs quietly, his tone a far cry from his usual way of speaking.

“Hrm,” you reply, blood pounding in your ears. The world refocuses, showing you the vampire who is gazing at you with such concern in his eyes, his eyebrows creased in worry.

“I’m alright, Star. Just need to…get a breath of fresh air,” you wave him off. “Sorry for interrupting your trance.”

“I was about to head off for a hunt.” He pauses for a moment. “Would you like to come along, my dear?”

“That…sounds nice.” You rub your eyes, feeling his hand brush against yours. Giving his hand a squeeze, you push yourself up, wiping the night’s terrors away and step out into the cool fresh air, taking a deep breath. You hear him stop just behind you, his shoulder brushing against yours and you take his hand once more.

“I just need you,” you whisper, the words meant only for his ears. He nods, pressing closer to you and swallows the honeyed words that almost fall from his lips out of habit. What you need now is him, not the words his tongue can form, not the services he can provide.

You just need him.

It’s not something anyone else can provide, it’s something unique to him and something he’s comfortable with providing. If all you want is for him to sit by your side, he will happily do just that.

Astarion lets you lead the way, sitting on the steps next to you with a clear view of the city. He wants to know what your nightmare was about so that he can reassure you better, but watching you take in the city’s night lights with quiet awe, he decides that dredging up the past can wait and patiently sits next to you, exactly like he promised. He takes your hand, relishing in the way your fingers automatically curl around his hand.

“I’m right here, my love.” he says for no other reason than he wants to say it. You nod, squeezing his hand before resting your head on his shoulder, letting out a deep breath.

“Thank you,” you whisper. The quiet night beckons the words from your lips, the words you have yet to say to him and mean it with all your heart. You feel him slip an arm around your waist, pulling you closer and feel his lips ghost over your hair.

“I love you.”

[captainlilyuniverseworld]

Never Gonna Give You Up

Next Part in Willingly Unwilling (Can't believe we're already at 9 🤯)

Summary: Gale wants to forget Mystra but can't. Astarion helps.

It’s stupid and he should leave. He should not be sitting here in the tabernacle with Mystra’s shrine in front of him. He is admittedly a little drunk. Astarion may have collected and burned everything in the palace that reminded him of Cazador and his siblings but he left the wine cellar intact. And it’s very good wine. Gale finished the first and is working his way through a second bottle. 

The floor is cold and hard and his back hurts from leaning against the stone bench behind him. His neck hurts from the angle he’s held it in for so long. Peering up at Mystra’s statue. He missed her and he shouldn’t. He should be mad at her. He should be forgetting her. 

She’d tossed him aside. She’d left him with a hole in his chest that no matter how much magic he gave, he sacrificed, it just took and took and took. She made her forgiveness contingent on blowing himself up. He had the crown of Karsus within his grasp. All he had to do was reach out and take it. But then she’d dangled the cure right in front of him. 

“Bring me the Crown of Karsus and I will heal you Gale. I will restore you to your rightful place as an archmage. As my chosen.” 

And what did he do? Caved like the doe eyed schoolboy he’d been all those years ago. 

And she’d cured him alright. He had all the magic and power at his fingertips and then some. The only evidence of his folly, of his mistake, the evidence that something had been mildly wrong with him was the scared reminder on his chest. 

He drank more wine. He needed to leave. He needed to get up and leave and forget her but he can’t. She’s taken up too much space in his head. In his heart. And he shouldn’t be thinking these things knowing that he would come after him. 

Because it wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when. Not after the earlier conversation they’d had. 

“I just don’t understand why you’re so against the idea,” Astarion watched Gale brush his hair in the mirror. “One little bite. One little drink and eternity is yours.” 

“I never said I wasn’t against it,” Gale replied. 

“Are you scared?” Astarion sat up. “Because it’ll only hurt for a bit. I’ll make it as painless as I can. I never want to hurt you, you know that.” 

“I do. I know, and it’s not, it isn’t out of fear,” Gale shook his head. He didn’t know what it was. He set the brush aside and started to pull his hair back. His fingers brushed his ear and his hand stilled. 

It was empty. It was still an odd feeling. It’d been less of a request and more of a demand from Astarion. He caught his gaze in the mirror and looked away just as quickly. 

“Surely you are not still beholden to your former goddess?” Astarion asked as he walked over to him. “The ex-lover who asked you to kill yourself for her. Who dangled a cure for that bomb in your chest in order for you to hand over a crown that by all rights, could and should have been yours? Are you?” 

He put one hand on Gale’s shoulder the other coming around his front, fingers stroking his cheek. A few inches over and those delicate fingers would be around his throat. It’s funny how much Gale would prefer that. 

“Of course not,” Gale reached up and put his hand over Astarion’s. “Why would I when I have you?” 

“Always so predictable.” 

Gale straightened and swallowed the mouthful of wine he’d been drinking. He didn’t have to turn around, or look over his shoulder, but he did. Astarion is standing near the doors with his arms crossed over his chest. 

It must have started raining because his hair’s wet and plastered to his forehead. Even with the dim lighting of the candles he can make out the man’s expression. He’s not angry like Gale would have expected. But he is upset. He’s hurt. 

“I thought we’d moved past this running away and getting drunk,” Astarion walked over. “If it’s not the Elfsong, or the Blushing Mermaid, it’s here.” He looked around. “The shrine belonging to your ex lover.” 

“...I’m not getting drunk…” is the point Gale makes. “I’m drinking…but not getting drunk.” 

That doesn’t make it better but it doesn't make it worse. 

“Do you still love her?” Astarion asked. 

“Of course not,” Gale answered. “I told you. I don’t love her anymore.” 

“Then why the fuck are you here?” Astarion stood in front of him. “Why do I have to find you here in front of her? Staring at her like some lovesick puppy?”

The rain is louder now. Thunder breaks up the sound every so often. Astarion is looking down on Gale and Gale is looking up at him. And his eyes are wet. From tears? From the rain? 

“I…” Gale doesn’t have an answer for him. Because he doesn’t want to be Astarion’s spawn? Not now. Not yet. But it isn’t as if he really belongs to Mystra anymore now does he? But if he becomes a spawn. Astarion’s spawn it’s the same thing. No longer beholden to a mistress but to a master. 

When Astarion touches him, his fingers are cold but gente. His eyes are soft. “Poor thing. You say the words but struggle to believe them yourself. She really has you in a chokehold doesn’t she? That’s why you came here isn’t it?”

Continue Reading

[arzen9]

Daybreak

The Nosferatu OST was released, and I was compelled to write this while listening to it.

OR

Lamby has a nightmare the night before they face Cazador Szarr.

A/N: I know I haven't published anything in a while, and I apologize. Life has been A LOT lately, and I truly didn't have it in me to write, but I WANT to, and although my uploading schedule won't be regular I will continue to create because I love this game and the brainrot continues. This will the the first of a few one-shots to come involving my main OC from BG3, Vaeri (or Lamby, as she prefers to go by) and Astarion. These one-shots will be mostly canon compliant and contain my takes on various events that take place in game. As always, thank you so much for your time if you read, and I always appreciate any and all feedback! 

Rating: M

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character

Tags: Trauma, Vampire Spawn Astarion, Vampire Ascendant Astarion, Canon Compliant, Nightmares, Spoilers, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to be Added

One Shot, 1.2k words

Lamby finds herself in a strange dream.

There’s a room bathed in sunlight, a shrine with two goblets and scattered rose petals, and a mirror adorned with delicate silver ornaments.

And there’s Astarion: her love, her life.

He’s leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest. There’s a smirk painted on his handsome face, and Lamby’s inclined to return it if only it didn’t feel so… Wrong.

Astarion’s eyes slowly move to the mirror, and she follows his gaze.

That’s when she realizes: she has no reflection.

One of her hands flies to her mouth, and just as she feared, something sharp pricks at her finger, draws her blood.

A fang.

“No!”

“Why don’t you admit that you’re afraid of what I am, darling? You are deeply, deeply afraid. And that’s why you can never fully love me. And that’s why I need to keep you chained up.”

Sure enough, looking at her ankles, she can see the silver circles just as bright as she had expected to see the sun when she woke up. She is shackled.

“This isn’t you, Astarion.”

“But what if it is?”

One second, he’s standing in the corner of the room, and the next, he is right in front of her. His speed makes her gasp, equal parts shock and fascination, as much as she hated to admit. Is this the power of the Ascendant?

He grabs her face, and his touch isn’t cold anymore. The pressure he applies makes her lips part, and he slides his thumb into her mouth, pressing down on her tongue.

“I can tell,” he says, all poisoned honey. “You hold your breath while I speak. You await my command.”

Lamby wants to retort, but his grip is iron, and all she can do is salivate around his finger.

A part of her is furious. Humiliated. Bhaal’s Chosen should rip the Vampire Lord’s throat out, bathe in his innards.

Isn’t this what Father would have wanted?

She tries to turn her face away. Looking at him does nothing but fuel the fire of her darkest urges. Heat pools in her lower abdomen. Tears burn in her eyes.

This is the worst of both of them.

With newfound vampiric strength, Lamby's hand wraps around the Ascendant’s throat, but he only smiles.

Astarion retracts his thumb from her mouth and wipes her spittle on her cheek.

“We do what we have to survive, don’t we?”

Lamby jolts awake, gasping and frantically searching her surroundings, looking down at her hands. The hands that wanted to harm Astarion. Her Astarion.

It’s still dark in their room at the Elfsong, only rays of silver moonlight illuminating the room, almost liquid.

“Little lamb,” he whispers as gently as possible, and Lamby takes a deep breath, released from the nightmare. “I’m here. You’re alright.”

He runs a hand through her hair, and the gesture calms her down immensely. She moves her body to be closer to him. Her gaze is tired under wet eyelashes.

“What did you see?” he asks.

“You,” she answers.

“Should I be offended that this is how you wake up from a dream containing me?”

“It wasn’t you, exactly. You were the Ascendant.” She enunciates the word with heavy disdain.

“It’s simply a dream. Nothing more.”

“You’re right,” she says and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Astarion. This is not me trying to influence your decision.”

He doesn’t have to look into her eyes to know she’s telling the truth because Lamby is probably the only person he fully trusts. But he does anyway and finds an undecipherable pain in her usually cheerful gaze.

“It feels impossible, almost,” he says. “The fact that I will need to make such a choice after not having a say for so long.”

With her thumb, she draws little circles on the skin connecting his thumb to his index finger. It’s soothing.

“You won’t be alone,” Lamby says.

She’s right. For the first time in forever, he is not alone. Which makes his decision only more complicated.

“Astarion,” she whispers, moving even closer to him so their foreheads are touching. He closes his eyes with the softness of the gesture, senses all-consumed by her presence. Her warmth, the beat of her heart, the steady movement of her chest with every breath.

“No matter what, I want you to know I’m with you. Even if…” She falters. He opens his eyes and sees the tears she’s trying to hide. “Even if I don’t necessarily agree with the decision you might make.”

Her warmth. The beat of her heart. The steady movement of her chest with every breath.

She would give it all to him, just like that. And he would take it.

It takes a while for Lamby to fall back asleep, but she does, holding Astarion’s hand. He wants to tell her that, although he has only taken so far, he only wants to give, give, and give her everything that he can. And he will tell her.

He won’t tell her, however, that the sudden connection of their tadpoles had stirred him in his trance, and he had seen everything. Every second of her nightmare, they both stood as the villains of their love story.

But how can they have forever if he can’t grant her the gift of immortality? And how can Astarion accept that he’ll one day lose her? What if ascending is the only way?

He saw her reaction to the scroll they found at Jaheira’s hideout. Her soft features tainted with deep concern; dark blonde brows knit together. Jaheira, of course, ever the careful observer, noticed how her face contorted at the discovery.

“What’s on your mind, cub?” she asked Lamby.

“That scroll,” she pointed at it. “A druidic ritual, is it?”

“Have your eyes set on the future, hm?”

Lamby didn’t respond for a while. It was apparent that she was trying to conceal her curiosity from Astarion.

  “Are you thinking of using it?”

Jaheira looked at her, then, a fleeting sadness in her eyes. She turned her gaze to Astarion, then back to Lamby again.

“I understand not being content with the amount of life given to you, cub. I do.” For a moment, Lamby almost looks… Annoyed, but lets Jaheira continue. “Unfortunately, like you said, it is a druidic ritual.”

“And I am no druid.”

“Alas.”

They had gone on with their day, Lamby and Jaheira walking side by side for most of it, discussing something in hushed voices. But Astarion kept an eye on the little lamb, and at night, when she thought everybody else was at rest, she locked herself in the bathroom. Astarion was the only one who heard her cry until first light.

To know she wanted eternity with him, to want the same exact thing without the power to make it happen, weighs heavily on Astarion now.

But it seems that he does have the power. If he completes the ritual of the Ascendant instead of Cazador, eternity with Lamby would not be a tragic dream anymore. And who would miss his siblings, so what if he had to sacrifice them? They would be serving a better purpose this way.

Then Astarion considers Lamby’s nightmare. Through the tadpole, he could feel what she felt, face-to-face with that strange version of him. It didn’t feel like they were in love at all. Obsessed with each other, desperate to possess, sure. But love?

Are they in love?

The Astarion of not so long ago would think of love as nothing but a weakness. But now, looking at this hot-blooded creature holding his hand like it is her only lifeline, love feels like a strength instead.

The only thing left to do is make a choice. His choice.

[3xm-draconic]

Broken Chains (Werebat Cyris and Astarion Story)

Summary: Astarion confronts Orin to save Cyris...with help from an unexpected source.

The temple reeked of blood and viscera. Orin and a pure white dragonborn stood definitely before them, “Durgy, Kill them, make their bowls ooze all over the floor, for Bhaal!” She giddily hummed to the twitching muttering creature “hahahaha…yes…FOR BHAAL!” he roared.

They needed to fill the dagger with her blood, it would consume her with one stab…if only Astarion could get that close…

Halsin and Karlach were smashed into the walls and poor Shadowheart was sent flying into the temple ceiling…this Dark Urge guy…he’s tougher than they expected, but NOTHING is stopping him from killing Orin and taking her blood back to the temple of Entumbrue.

He’s cutting that bitch’s heart out one way or another…

Astarion got Halsin up “Get Shad and Karlach out of here”, “no Astarion we are not leaving you here”, “Iam not letting you all get killed by-”

The Durge roared and looked as if he were tearing himself apart…then he transformed.

He took the form of a hideous monstrosity, “YOU need to leave NOW”, “NO, I know you want him back but it’s suicide! You can’t fight that thing alone!” 

Astarion wasn’t listening…

They were all pinned…

“Gods…Cy..” he sobbed “I’am sorry”...

BOOM

Suddenly the door to the temple burst open and an elderly dwarf in gleaming platemail zoomed past them striking the creature in the face with a gigantic warhammer.

“YOU” BOOM whent the hammer down on the creature’s head, “DON’T”, BOOM down it whent again, “HURT”, BOOM “MY LITTLE GRAND BABBY’S”, BOOM, “FRIENDS!” WA-BAM!

The creature was sundered into the Skull of Bhaal, “GRah! You-” BANG, “enough out of you, I’am done looking at such an ugly face!” He snapped.

The dwarf raised his hammer high, “NO!” Orin screamed as the Durge’s head was caved in like a rotten pumpkin…

“Alright you, get back on your feet we have this nasty piece of work to deal with”, “who are you?” Shadowheart gawked, “no time for introductions, kill crazyass first”.

Orin screamed and transformed into the same monster as the Durge before…

That's when Astarion got an idea “get her to face you guys, I’ll sneak attack her, one shot is all I need…”, “you sure boy?” the elderly dwarf turned to him, “trust me”.

Orin lunged at the dwarf but he was surprisingly nimble for an old man, Astarion turned into a bat and clung to the ceiling “just the right angle…” he murmured, Orin stomped and slashed about…then.

Astarion dropped from the ceiling, poofed back into human form mid-air and stabbed Orin in the head.

She shrieked and roared and cried, but the dagger did its job, it exsanguinated her and now with her life blood in hand it was time for a sacrifice.

“Ok…who are you exactly?” Karlach asked the old dwarf as Halsin patched her up, “Oh right, I promised to tell all of you when we killed that crazy bitch” the dwarf laughed “name’s Cyris Stonebreaker, I’am Cyris’s Grandpa”.

“WAIT WHAT?” everyone gawked, “I thought he was raised by halflings” Shadowheart pondered, “your correct, his mother is light foot but his daddy be a strongheart, a stout, a half-dwarf” Stonebreaker laughed “I married a halfling lass who had o’l little Tommy boy”.

“A strongheart halfling half-dwarf?” Karlach scratched her head “well ain’t that something…”

The temple to Entumbru was rebuilt, hastily but with care, the basin at the base of the shrine was repaired and ready for its offering. Menphes Gloombeard acted as priest of the ritual, “you sure this will work?” Gale shuttered, all the bats looking at him…felt…hungry, “yes, Entumbru promised and he will keep his word” Astarion turned to Gale with a determined look.   

Out of the 300 or so spawn and 70 werebat deep gnomes, they had the 100 worshipers required, they had Orin’s blood, the temple was rebuilt and now…

Astarion took the dagger out and broke it over the basin, a gallon of blood oozed out, the converts began chanting…

“dominus nofler. rex bate. custos crepusculi. adtende vocationi nostrae o sancte pater et huic orationi mediae responde”, Entumbru hopped down and began to drink Orin’s blood. 

“reddite nobis furto. Hanc oblationem suscipe, et huius sacrificii virtute convalescas. o rex lunarum pallidarum et purpurearum astra” Entumbru morphed before their eyes…he grew into the form of a man…

A very familiar man…

“Cyris?” Astarion gawked, this…form of the bat god…why did he?

“I go now to rescue my son” he turned to the worshipers “keep the basin full…please do not let my power wane” he stepped through a portal to the hells… “I will be back…shortly”

The basin never seemed to be full, it kept draining and draining like a bottomless pit “Astarion we may not have enough blood for this” Sebastian worriedly turned to him, “I have an idea” he said as he approached the basin, he put on every item of magic that increased health, had his friends stand by with healing potions and spells…

He then cut his palms and let them bleed into the basin, repeatedly using the spell “life transference” to give his blood to the basin.

“ASTARION!”, “I’ll be fine…just, just keep me alive” he groaned.

It felt like hours but Entumbru returned with Cyris’s soul intact, “that when rather quick” Gale noted “what on earths did you do to get him back you could not have fought the devil that easily?”, “simple…I fucked Mephostpholies” Entumbru nonchalantly shrugged.

The party was silent, “what?” Entumbru grumble “Iam a god of nature, twilight, harvest, protection and…” he chuckled coyly “Iam also a god of…fertility”

“Whatever lets just put Cyris’s soul back into his body now” Karlach flusteredly changed the subject. 

Cyris awoke to being in a bed back in Little Hope-Light, the tavern in Bloodcrystal Vail “was it all a dream?” he groaned, Astarion saw him awaken “CYRIS!” he embraced him “gods darling~!” he kissed him all over his big bearded face “I love you, I love you!” he cried.

The party practically smothered him in affection, hells even lae’zel was hugging him and telling him how worried she was about him.

Cyris looked at his body, the chains were gone…but scars of their presence still remained, on his neck and wrists were long jagged scars where the tattoos had been removed.

“Jellybean!” Cyris’s Grandfather, Stonebreaker, called out to him as the two hugged “oh, boy It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, Moradin’s beard! You’ve gotten tall haven't you?”, “Grandpa! You came all the way here to help” Cyris smiled but the frownd “won’t grangran be worried about you with your mechanical leg acting up?”

Stonebreaker shrugged “as long as I got oil on the thing it’ll be fine squirt” he chuckled.

Entumbrue approached Cyris, Cyris confused at what was before him simply gawked in stunned silence, “hello son” Entumbru smiled, “son?”,  Entumbru laughed “son as in my SON, you are of my flesh and blood, I am your biological father Cyris”.

Stunned silence filled the room.

“Then…who’s my mother?” Cyris asked, his mind racing, “you met her already, she saved you from jumping off that belltower…”, “you mean?” Cyris gasped in shock, “yes Cyris” Entumbru nodded “you are the son of Yondalla”.

[coreene]

Here is a little one shot for Astarion lovers!

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Astarion/Female Tav

Tags: POV Astarion, POV First Person, tw: Abdirak and what he does in that shrine!, Fluff and Smut, it is so early in their relationship, Sweet Astarion, more like character study, is it smut if the character is imagining of doing things?

Chapters: 1/1

Summary

What is going on in the head of our favourite silver haired elf when Tav agrees to the ritual with Abdirak?

This is derived from my long fic as I look into the ritual moment from Astarion's eyes this time. It is basically Astarion dreaming about taking Tav (named Lorelei) away to care for her and please her. You don't need to have read that to understand this. This is more of a character study for Astarion, if anything.

[heisen-shrine]

Hello everyone and welcome to the new and improved Heisen-Shrine!

You guys know the drill! Here I post all kinds of awesome self shipping things, and now I have six f/os and plenty of love to go around.

I can't believe I now have as many f/os as Henry the 8th had wives, but at least I haven't killed any of my guys...yet lol. I'm mostly a villain shipper, but I've dipped my toes into anti-hero territory over the years. Most of my F/Os are villains, and that's okay. They hate everyone else but they love me ^^

Meet my guys!

Karl Heisenberg- the main man! I married this man Halloween of 2022 and we're still going strong. We also have an adopted son, Nanaue from the Suicide Squad. Karl is probably the most prominently featured f/o on here, and I love him to bits. He's encouraging, sweet, makes cool stuff, and is really big about my own creative endeavors. We support each other and make everything work <3

Astarion- the vampire from Baldur's Gate 3, I absolutely adore him. Normally vamps aren't my thing but this guy's got me by the throat with his sass and unabashed honesty. He's the sassy pansexual boyfriend I feel everyone needs in life ^.^

Elijah Kamski- Elijah is admittedly more of a familial f/o rather than a romantic one. But even so he's important to me and seems to be the perfect brother figure. He's helped me through a lot of my own sibling related trauma and I'm really thankful for that. If you need practical or technical advice, Elijah is my go to guy :)

Otto Octavius- from the Raimi-verse spider-man movies. I've loved this man since I was a child, and he's the oldest of my f/os on here. Partly familial, Partly romantic, my relationship with Otto can be rather complicated. Sometimes we don't even really know what we are to each other and I feel that's okay. He's a great man and I love him so much ^^

Oswald Cobblepot- from the Reeves-verse batman. He's a little out of the ordinary for me but I find we just click. He genuinely cares about me and was there when I was going through a very difficult period when I first moved to this new town. In a way he's my backbone and I appreciate it a ton :)

Rabban- from the 2021 Remake of Dune. This is my most recent F/O. He got my attention about two or three years ago but I really wasn't sure where I stood with him. To a degree we're still figuring everything out. Yes while he's brutal, he's been oddly nothing but kind to me and has been there for me in recent weeks. He's very much interested in my world, and I'm very much into his ^.^

Be sure to read my Rules please!

1. This isn't a Fandom blog per se, but I'd appreciate no Fandom drama on here.

2. Please be nice to me and my guys, we're really just trying here lol.

3. Keep the thirst to a minimum. I get it my guys are good looking, but they're more than that. Feel free to ask them or myself anything.

4. I try to be respectful of other self ships. If I'm shipping with any character that my followers aren't comfortable I fully respect your right to unfollow and block if you need to. I have no desire to make anyone feel uncomfortable or disrespected. I personally don't mind sharing but I know there's a few people who want their f/os to be exclusive to them and that is ABSOLUTELY valid! If you need to leave/block the blog it's perfectly fine and I understand.

5. I don't tolerate hate of any kind. If your only purpose is to come on to this blog and be an asshole you can move right along.

6. I don't think I personally classify myself as pro-ship, I am normally ship and let ship but I do have limits. Yes I know the difference between fiction and IRL but for me personally it all comes down to taste if that makes sense. Self shipping is a spectrum, and I'm on the end of not shipping with people who are far younger than you if you're a grown person. Two consenting adults is fine, but I don't wanna hear some nonsense about how "Oh well this young looking character is actually 1000 years old" or wtf ever. If it looks like a duck, acts like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it's a duck, understand?

7. Speaking of ages, I am 30+. I honestly do not feel comfortable with people following me who are under the age of at least 20. It's nothing against anyone personally, but in my opinion if you still have teen at the end of your age, you're still a teenager to me. Granted I don't post adult content, but to be on the safe side if you're under the age of 20 please don't follow me. Thanks <3

8. Feel free to come on here and tell me about your f/os! I'm always happy to hear about anything you guys are doing together! I like to see others happy and how their relationships are going! If you need to vent, I'm always here too! I'd like to make more friends in this community.

9. Understand please that this is a side blog. If I follow anyone it'll be from my main blog, which is am RP blog. Heisen-Shrine isn't an rp blog per se, but I might post little funny/fun scenarios with my and my f/os, just general self shipping shenanigans

10. Just have fun, seriously. Life is too short to not enjoy things. Have fun, take it easy, and whether you use self shipping to cope or for some other reason, don't forget to have fun with it and enjoy just being with your f/os. They love you and they want you to be happy, and believe it or not, so do I <3 you deserve it

[sarxology]

the gravedigger

shadowheart prompts a memory from merynos, another survivor from the nautiloid crash. the death cleric reflects on his last memory before his capture, how it felt to have clear purpose and how strong the stench of wet earth and dragon’s blood was when mixed. { please do not reblog! }

CW: death, buried alive, abduction

“How did they find you?”

Shadowheart asked the question quietly, barely audible over the crackle of the fire. Her dark eyes were lost in the flames, arms wrapped tightly after her legs, and her chin rested on her knees. Their capturer needed no name, needed no introduction, as its visage strike through both their minds. Dark grey skin, tentacled face with raised hand, claws slowly scraping against the glass. Merynos recalled his awakening, suspended in vicious liquid, struggling to breathe. To be drowning while it approached, its worm wiggling in glee as it approached his face... The irony was awful, leaving him to bite his tongue and shoot back a sharp remark.

“You ask like I will tell you.”

His companion snorted, shifting from the fire. She stared him down, furrowed brows. “Fine, ignore my attempts at conversation.”

Merynos sighed, rubbing his temples. “Oh, don’t be like that...”

The half-elf settled opposite of Shadowheart and thought on his last free memories before his mind was tainted with his capturers. It was hard to ignore the force behind his eyes, causing blurry and shadowy vision, as the parasite writhed in hunger as he recalled the terror swelling in his stomach. 

A hooded figure shoved a dirty, slick shovel into the pile of fresh earth next to them. Their gloves were muddy too, tight against skin. Merynos took in the sight of his shrouded companions, all facing him with empty faces and anticipation. The cleric stepped forward, pulling his hood down, his hair wet and cold against his head. His freshly shaved parts trembled against the cold night air. The rain poured down his back, soaking through his vestments hidden underneath the dark leather cloak. He trusted the darkness and storm to keep this evening’s secrets quite well.

“Why are you here, cleric of Kelemvor? What ails this holy ground so much that you beg to cleanse it?!”

Between two of the shrouded figures, a gaunt and sickly human in a ratty tunic is held on his knees. His tunic was slashed, revealing taunt collarbone inked with a skull inside a black triangle. The tattoo was faded but the fury in the prisoner’s eyes was vile. His unshaved face and wide eyes, snarling lips, struggling against an iron grip, looked up at Merynos. “Pity the Lord of Death sends such a pretty face to do his dirty work.” The prisoner spat at the cleric. Gross spittle scatters across his cheek.

Merynos let the rain race down his skin. He bent down slowly down until he met the face of the old man. The sexton squirmed, sucking in his breath. The half-elf’s dark irises with moving pools of lit blue-orange swirled in a hot calm. “You mistake me for someone merciful, old man,” Merynos glances into the now empty grave, “and someone who recites verse over taking action.” The half-elf jerked his head and the two shrouded figures holding the sexton begin dragging him to the grave.

“Wait - what, what are you doing?! You-you can’t do this! You half-bred-”

Merynos pulls out a silver vial, with a dark sanguine liquid. The glass is etched with a beautiful filigree. “Please, continue assuming. I will pray for you,” he directed the other figure to the shovel, “Begin the burial.”

The cleric circled his hands, following a brief arcane pattern, and the sexton froze up, his eyes panicking about. His body is lowered into the earth then all three companions begin piling the earth on him. The gloved companion picked up the shovel again, heaving mound after mound of dirt on top the frozen man. If it weren’t raining, the cleric could have sworn there were tears streaming down his cheeks. The other two companions stick dirty fingernails into the earth and cup it to their lips, whispering final rites, as they scatter the rocks and dirt across the fresh grave.

Merynos smiled. “I pray for you, dear sexton, that when you are judged by the Lord of Death may he be merciful. May the weights catch wind of the innocent child you mutilated in your late age hatred. May the Lord of Death watch you sink into his kingdom and take pity on those who serve Myrkul.”

Merynos began pouring the liquid once the body was no longer seen. It splashes back, spattering across his boots. It is metallic, hot and sulfuric, like a hot breath on cheek. His magic waned and soon the muffled cries and sobs of an unfortunate soul were drowned out by the pouring rain. The cleric began casting again, intent on finalizing the redemption of this most unholy Myrkul shrine, and casting it anew in the eyes of the Lord of Death when a loud sucking cracked above the group like lightning. His magic disrupted, Merynos looked above and saw a hulking shadowed shape in the sky, aglow with innate lights. His companions panicked, the one flinging its shovel aside and dashing into the night. The other two hesitated. 

Merynos braced his heel in the ground. “Finish it- finish the ritual, gods damn it!” Gritted teeth caught flecks of wet earth and grass as the ship lowered even closer, whirring in the evening storm. In a spark of light, before the cleric could react, he felt his entire being be ripped from the ground, blinded by the growing lights...

“Well, are you going to tell me or not?”

“Ah, well, it is not interesting. Wrong time, wrong place. I have far more interesting stories if you’re interested in those?” It was an unwanted invitation, but a needed distraction.

The answer was clearly unsatisfactory as Shadowheart rolled her eyes and left, heading for her tent. Others seemed sound asleep, all disappeared into their tent. Astarion was gone as well, “checking the perimeter of camp- can never be too careful, you know,” leaving the cleric to lean on the warmth of the dying fire to keep the loneliness creeping at bay.