#Tadpole lives a long happy life

[theanoninyourinbox]

an interesting ask for hypoparents if they're still open... what would hawkfrost, mothwing, tadpole, and darktail look/be like if their parents were swapped (so hawkfrost, mothwing, and tadpole are onestar x smoke kits and darktail is a tigerstar x sasha kit)??? :o

OwO very interesting! I did change Darktail a bit because Tigerstar would Not Allow his kit to be indirectly named after Darkstripe lol

[sserpente]

The Sunwalker's Gift

Synopsis: Legends say those who were cursed to live in the shadows are not lost. There is a ring, a ring of incredible power that allows its vampiric wearer to walk in the sun once more. If there is one thing you know, it is that Astarion—your partner, your lover—deserves to own this ring more than anyone. You put yourself in great danger to acquire it for him without his knowledge but in the end, you succeed. So now, what magical piece of jewellery would be more suitable to propose to the vampire spawn you want to spend the rest of your life with than this one?

A/N: Who’s the goose that’s on the loose…

Words: 1694 Warnings: so much fluff, mentions of smut, SPOILERS FOR ACT 3

Blood, tears, sweat, another suicide mission. The rusty ring in your hand almost appeared as if it hadn’t been worth it to risk your neck and sanity for it but appearances were deceptive. This unassuming piece of jewellery in your hand held the answer to Astarion’s prayers. The very object that had made this long and exhausting search so rewarding in the end.

He didn’t know about it yet. He had no idea you’d had a lead with this legendary object at all. And after months of relentless and disappointing searches, Astarion had all but decided the ring was just another myth created to mock him in his misery… to the very point you had begun to doubt your decision to stop him from finishing Cazador’s work and letting him ascend.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head to chase the thought away. No. Walking in the sun was not worth spoiling his mind, his very soul—regardless of the fact you would have never left his side. You’d decided that the night he had confessed his feelings for you. This man was to be yours, forever.

Now you’d give this ring a little bit of polishing, and a bath in vinegar and soap and then you were certain it would look as good as new. You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face, to see the first moment he slid it on his finger and stepped back into the daylight without tadpoles and sacrificed souls. Nervousness washed over you when you pictured your plan in your head but there was no doubt—only excitement and impatience.

Today would change his life for the better. Perhaps one day, if he so wished, you would even find a way to cure his vampirism altogether but for now, you wanted him to have this gift.

Your shared bedroom was empty, the sheets unmade and the smell of sex still lingering in the air. You were still getting used to the nocturnal lifestyle, of course. Staying up with him all night and sleeping during the day was messing with your inner body clock but it was a small price to pay to be with him.

The wooden door leading out to the balcony was open, the barest hint of light pouring through the gap. You approached it on bare feet, the hinges creaking when you pushed the door open further.

“There you are,” he mused without turning around. Astarion was leaning against the metal railing of the balcony, staring into the darkness. A few torches here and there lit the still-sleeping city as the sun began to crawl up from behind the hills, the chirping birds urging it on to start the morning. He truly was a sight to behold—shirtless and pale, even with the everlasting scars Cazador had inflicted on his back, you were overcome with the urge to drag him back to bed and have your way with him in an instant. You did that a lot these days—giving him pleasure upon pleasure without asking for anything in return. Astarion had learned in a rather rewarding way what your mouth and tongue could do for him. Teaching him to be intimate with you in a both consensual and sensual way was a task you were happy to pursue.

You hummed in response, walking up to him to sling your arms around his middle from behind, the ring hidden in the pocket of your morning robe. You pressed the side of your face against his back, his cold skin cooling your heated cheek.

He had been doing this a lot lately. Dragging out the final moments of the night, catching a glimpse of the sun and Baldur’s Gate below him before retreating to the shadows again to ensure his own survival. No more. You sighed.

“What is it, darling?”

“Nothing… I just… love you.”

Astarion chuckled—a barely audible sound coating your heart like sweet honey. At last, he turned around to face, your arms still wrapped around him. You had to look up to meet those crimson-red eyes and the gentle smile tugging on his lips.

“I love you too.”

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you again, my love.”

“Nor I from you,” he purred. His smile was gentle, genuine. You’d fought hard to make him drop that wall of feigned confidence and reveal the real feelings lying underneath. Now, you couldn’t get enough of it. “Let’s head back inside. I’m starting to feel… warm.”

“Just a moment, please.”

The vampire spawn raised his eyebrows but waited nonetheless.

“You said forever,” you went on, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Yes?” He dragged the word out and smirked, reciprocating your hug now; his palms resting against your waist. His closeness calmed your nerves, encouraging you without him knowing.

“I… I want forever to start now. I want us to belong to each other and I want everyone to know.”

“Oh my… you’re feeling quite poetic today, my sweet. I don’t object.”

The first sunbeams hit the stone floor of the balcony upon his playful teasing and you could tell that he was getting nervous, eager to flee to the bedroom to avoid the angry burns he expected any moment now.

With a deep breath, you freed yourself from his embrace and took a step back to get down on one knee. It was then you saw the surprise dominating his beautiful face, his lips parting. Determined, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the shiny ring, holding it out to him.

“Astarion Ancunín… will you make me the happiest woman of Faerûn and marry me?”

It took him a heartbeat to remember how to draw oxygen himself, it seemed. He muttered your name under his breath, red eyes fixed on the plain but powerful ring in your hands. He didn’t recognise it, of course, didn’t expect it to be what it was. He had no reason to believe that this unimpressive piece of jewellery was about to return something to him which should have never been taken in the first place.

“Marry you?” he repeated, almost unbelieving. “I… I do, love. I want… yes.”

Yes. You smiled, the weight of uncertainty falling from your shoulders at once. You took his hand in his, sliding the ring on his finger and rose to your feet again, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him.

Astarion melted into your affectionate treatment without hesitation, yet you could tell he was holding back. Uneasy, he pulled away.

“Darling, as much as I would like to savour this moment, could we celebrate our engagement inside?” He glanced at the sun rising higher and higher. Any second now the balcony would be fully submerged in its warm light.

Instead of responding to his plea, however, you only smiled at him. You were certain this would work—you had seen the ring in action after all, made sure it was safe before you took it to your love. You had met up with Dalyria, one of Astarion’s spawn siblings, in secret, only two days ago for this exact reason and she had volunteered to try the effects of the ring—saying it was the least she could do in return after Astarion had freed them.

“I need to get inside!” You reached for his hands when he panicked, holding him in place. Only seconds later, you were both drowned in the soft morning sunlight.

Astarion squeezed his eyes shut and flinched, expecting the burn and the pain the day brought him—but nothing happened. He remained standing, the sunbeams warming his skin.

“What… what is… how is this possible?” he breathed out.

“The Sunwalker’s Gift. It’s the ring, Astarion.”

His red eyes widened, disbelief swinging in his smooth voice as he looked down on his ring-clad finger to admire the shining piece of jewellery reflecting the sunlight. “But… but how? How did you get it?”

“The mage we found and spoke to contacted me a few weeks back. He put me in touch with a bard who meddled with vampires before—two of which, after a couple of pints, revealed that the ring was every vampire’s secret dream and rumoured to have been buried with a deceased vampire lord in the lands north of Rivington a couple of centuries ago. After that, the mage and I returned to do more research and discovered where his tomb is located.”

“And you went to this tomb… alone? Have you lost your mind? Gods, anything could have happened to you!” He was trying his best to be upset, truly. You had to hold back a giggle when his voice went a little high-pitched. It was flattering knowing that the only person this gorgeous man had ever truly shown honest concern for was you.

“I wasn’t alone, I promise. I had help. Halsin and Gale accompanied me.”

“Halsin I can understand. But… Gale?” He pretended to gag, eliciting another childish giggle from you. But then, his tone became more serious once again.

“You did this for me… I…” The very hint of an embarrassed laugh clung to his words. “I’m not sure I even deserve you.”

“You do. I love you. And you’re stuck with me now. You just agreed to be my husband, remember?”

“How could I?” Astarion muttered your name again. There was admiration and affection as it left his lips like a prayer. You had no doubt that part of him was still processing what this engagement ring really meant. It was too early still for joyous screams and running across the flower fields hand in hand. “Thank you. This is… I did not dare dream of this and yet you continue to surprise me. I just… thank you, my love.”

You nodded. “I told you all I want is for you to be happy. I would have turned every single rock in Faerûn to find this ring for you. Now come on. We have a long day ahead of us and a wedding to plan.”

Astarion smirked, his red eyes sparkling with joy, relief and affection. “Darling… there is nothing I’d like more.”

A/N: I am so crazy for him this is abnormal even for me. I'LL BE GETTING A GROUP PHOTO WITH THE WHOLE MAIN CAST AT MCM, I'M SO HYPED!

[4chance]

flow of our lives — I. a mr. crawling series built around the sweet mundane. — part 1 of ?

word count — 0.6k summary — you take care of crawling to make up for past bitterness. notes — SFW. gn reader (no pronouns). END04 implied. bold = otherworld language. we call him "crawling" here, because we're close enough with him now to drop the honorific.

You must use force to twist the knob of the faucet (more now than before your foray into that world) and let the water roll, until you stop it at the lip of the bucket. You dip your fingers in. It is warm, and the heat is not far from your own, not too harsh. Crawling will not shy away.

He loves you—so much. He has a zest for your life, like a sweet, loyal dog; he loves you like a dog loves the chocolate in your hand. You did not always love him the way he deserved: to this day, he wears you proudly on his face (in the blood you had shed when you plunged your crowbar down his face). You soak a microfiber cloth in the water, tip Crawling’s chin with the bed of your thumb, and press the cloth to his cheek.

“Hot?” he says.

Your face drops to a look of concern. “Many hot? You hurt?”

“Not hurt. Little hot feel good.” He tilts his head, burrows his cheek into the cloth. “Why you have this?”

The water of the Otherworld is cold and hard and stagnant. Crawling knows the hot of a scared, throbbing heart; of the fire meant to ward off his kind. When you take up your cloth and wipe the grime from his chin, you show him warm: a nice heat, that is not here to hurt him.

“Your face… have blood. Blood… go out of your face—me happy.”

“Happy?”

His hands dart to the cloth. He tries to wrest it from your grip and drag it toward the center of his face.

“Calm down—not… move.” Since the Otherworld has no word that you know for please—“friendly.”

You know Crawling can handle himself. He braved the Otherworld as long as he did, and you trust him now to keep your apartment during the day: he mops floors and folds clothing, prompted and not. Still—it is you that must make sure he knows: you are not here to hurt him.

He never let the other ghosts touch him (not like this—not at all). Perhaps he forgave you already—loves you just that much.

You bring one hand to cradle the back of his head; the other gives his face gentle strokes. His body melts beneath your touch; he swipes his face against the cloth to help you out. The cloth blackens quickly: one half of his face requires four dips in the bucket. You see now just how pale he is, not that ash-gray you thought it was at all—in fact, so white his veins show dark as tadpoles on his skin.

You glide the cloth below his curtained bangs. Your fingertips cave in on the crest of his cheekbone. “You okay?”

“My eyes… not able to clean. Sorry.”

“You should not sorry,” you say, in an attempt at your clearest Otherworld pronunciation. Crawling hides his eyes and downplays his height, and you are sure it is for you, so as not to repulse you—yet he cannot make you hate him if he tried. “You good.” You stroke the crown of his head, the way he likes; a giggle escapes his broadened mouth.

You do what you can—you kiss the bridge of his nose, then rise to change the water. The skin that lines his sockets has the gravity of jowls, lined in essence with the slick of fresh blood. You either cause him no pain, or he hides it for you. Really—what have you done to deserve him, who loves you so much?

(This—

You look at him as if he is a jewel in your hands. He has never been treasured. Not like this, not at all.

The breathy rumbling of his giggles, from his chest to his cheeks, brings a flutter to your heart, and a warmth to your gaze. All you have done is be fond of him, made the smallest things you do his world.

The Otherworld is simple, in that only the strong survive—and so when you show him warm, he knows you’re true, and that is all.)

[astariontopofme]

Hi! I loved your Astarion fic very much!! You really captured him very well! :D I would love to request a fic where Tav/Reader invites Astarion to watch the sunset with them and just have a sweet time together without obligation of anything more. Thank you! ❤️

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐬 🌞 (Astarion x GN!MC)

A/N: I took this prompt and ran too far with a bit of angst, I apologise. There’s still fluff I promise! Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2.3k

___

Alone and miserable was exactly how Astarion intended to spend his evening.

He was growing a little tired of these long days ending in disappointment. They had been on the receiving end of some particularly brutal attacks that afternoon, each one adding to the ever lengthening delay on their mission to find a cure for their tadpoles.

It seemed there wasn’t an end in sight, their days repeatedly starting and finishing the same way. The worst part about it for him was his confliction when it came to the matter at hand. One minute he was determined and dead set on finding someone or something that could remove the tadpole, and the next minute he was absorbed by the actuality that the tadpole had given him the happiest moments of his prolonged life.

One of those moments being the warmth of the sun on his cold skin.

He couldn’t imagine being stripped of such luxury again, locked in the shadows until the harshly cold moon replaced the flourishing gold beams that it blessed upon the world. The very thought left him in a slight state of panic if ever he dwelled on it long enough. Everyone else was yearning for the solution to their infections, which was fair. It hadn’t brought anyone but himself any joy, just a disruption to their lives.

Which was why these thoughts were always kept to himself. He didn’t want to hear about how ‘everything would be okay’ or the irritating default ‘cheer up’ phrases. It wasn’t as simple as just seeing the bright side of ridding himself of the tadpole. Sure, it would eliminate the chances of being turned into something he didn’t want to become, but removing it would turn him back into his old self, something else he didn’t want to be.

The very thought of avoiding the daylight made him feel ill. He hadn’t expected to be so attached to it when he first realised the warmth on his skin wasn’t cooking him alive. Two hundred years of darkness was what he had no choice but to be used to. He knows how to live out his life that way, but he didn’t want to.

He just wanted to be free.

So as he could hear the rest of the camp making their attempts at cheering each other up, Astarion sat in his lonely little tent, slowly waving his hand in the strip of honey-like light that had invited itself in through the gap of the tent’s entrance. He almost wanted it to start burning him, just to prepare him for his impending intolerance to the beauty cascading a rich bronze hue across his deathly pale skin.

Judging by the deep shade of the soothing beam, the sun was beginning its daily journey to another part of the world. The nights were always a little difficult when he got in his head like this. Every glance at the stars shimmering in contrast to the ebony sky made him wonder if that had been his last day in the warmth before someone excitedly presented him with a cure he only half wanted.

Just as he felt himself starting to spiral uncontrollably, his tent was suddenly deprived of its sliver of warm light. Before he could tell whoever had come to bother him to leave him alone, a familiarly soft yet strong hand clasped itself around his, tugging him out of his solitary as his knees crashed into the hard ground. He was ready to start shouting at whoever had the sheer audacity to pull him around like that, but as he looked up from his knees he was met with a contagiously joyous smile.

Whatever Tav was so happy about must not have reached the others, most of them sitting around the start of a fire and barely looking any happier than he felt. The misplaced display of glee was almost irritating him, but the irritation was fizzling out quickly, as it always seemed to do with his partner.

Gods he was getting soft.

Doing his best to be stern after being so unexpectedly manhandled, he put on his best frown. “What on earth was that for?!”

Still, the look of delight before him did not falter. If anything they looked even more pleased that he was in a bad mood.

The same hand that had kidnapped him from the confines of his tent reached out to help him up. Being the ever so petty man that he could proudly be, Astarion completely ignored it and dragged himself up to his feet, being sure to scoff as he brushed the dirt from his knees.

“Come on,” his over excited companion commanded.

Astarion raised an eyebrow at them. “Come on, what?”

Before his tongue had even hit the roof of his mouth to exaggerate the T at the end of what, he watched his partner turn around quickly, darting off into the woods surrounding the camp.

Although their actions hadn’t exerted any will within him to now go and spend time with them, he wasn’t prepared to let them scurry off into the woods alone before it got dark. He quickly grabbed a small dagger from a stool outside his tent and hastily set forth to catch up to them. Sure, he was a little pissed, but he was too protective of them to retreat back into his tent and stew in his misery.

It didn’t take him long to catch up, despite how quickly his partner was speed walking through the trees. Wherever they were going, they were clearly in some kind of hurry.

“Will you slow down,” Astarion hissed. “Where in the hells are you going?!”

Tav simply continued without a word, stopping very suddenly at the edge of the forest. There was quite a drop only a few feet in front of them, and Astarion found himself automatically reaching out to grab the back of his partner's top, despite the fact that they had already come to a halt.

“I knew this would be the perfect place,” Tav exclaimed with an accomplished grin.

Astarion couldn’t help but hope that this wasn’t what he thought it was. He wasn’t entirely in the mood to try and be interested in sex right at this very moment in time, nor was it the most comfortable looking place for it.

“Look, I enjoy your body a great deal, but I’m not really-”

Tav’s gaze shot straight up to him, the smile dropping from their face. “I…I didn’t bring you here for sex, Astarion,” they explained innocently. “You know that’s not all I want from you…don’t you?”

Astarion didn’t know how to answer this. He had spent so much of his life being used to lure people to their doom with sex that he still couldn’t decipher between being appreciated and being used. It was a difficult area in their new relationship that they both knew would take time and plenty of reassurance. He trusted his partner a great deal, more than he had ever been able to trust a person before in his life.

After a few awkwardly silent minutes went by, Tav cut the tension by pointing out towards a body of water in the distance. “I wanted you to watch with me,” they murmured quietly, crossing one leg over the other to sit on the hard ground.

Astarion watched as the deeply orange sun was slowly approaching the water, reflecting itself on the surface like fire dancing over ice. It was a rather breathtaking sight, one that forced his legs to follow the same crossing motion to sit beside his partner and bask in such a beautiful sight.

Despite the earlier downward spiral into his fear of sun deprivation, he had never felt so soothed and relaxed by such simplicity. He hadn’t yet watched a sunset, which was usually down to missing it whilst journeying back to camp. The brightest star in the sky was sinking away, emanating a golden sheet across everything that surrounded them. It was almost hypnotic just how fascinating the sight truly was.

Any resentment he had for being dragged out of his tent against his will had dissolved almost instantly. This relationship thing was still all very new to him, and his biggest obstacle was understanding, which was difficult as there were so many things he just didn’t understand. The main one being Tav’s interest in him.

Even he couldn’t deny that he could be a bit of a negative bastard at the best of times, and yet this ridiculously patient person he found himself to be enamoured with wanted to share such a beautiful and intimate moment with him without the obligation of intercourse. They really did care about him.

But for how long?

If they were to eventually find a cure, Astarion was almost certain that he’d lose something far more valuable to him than the sun. Why would such a bright soul want to spend the rest of their life with him in the shadows?

He tore his gaze away from the descending sun to glance at his partner, only to find them already looking at him.

“Isn’t it lovely,” they whispered quietly, as if raising their voice would scare the beauty away.

Astarion swallowed a hard lump in his throat, not knowing how to answer that question. It was lovely, but he wasn’t just thinking that of the sunset.

Before he could catch his tongue, he blurted out a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. “Are you going to leave?”

Once again, Tav’s content smile faded into a small and confused frown. “Leave? Leave what?”

He could hear his conscience shouting at him to just shut up and quit being so pathetic, but his mouth seemed to overrule it. He needed some sense of security.

“Me.”

The hurt look on the face that had recently become his favourite caused his cold heart to squeeze in his chest. He didn’t want to come across so accusingly, but he wasn’t exactly accustomed to loyalty. Nobody had cared for him the way they did, yet as much as he was afraid that they would eventually grow tired of him, he wouldn’t ever be surprised if they did as he just didn’t expect much from people.

Judging by the sudden sadness in those fascinating eyes, Tav hadn’t actually thought about it in the way he had. “You think I’m going to leave you when you can no longer walk in the sun,” they questioned, though it came out as more of a statement.

Astarion didn’t verbally respond, but the way his body tensed up at the thought was enough of an answer for his partner. Tav shuffled over a little, sitting closer to him and placing a comforting hand on his leg. Their piercing stare bored into him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet their eyes with his.

Still, Tav spoke so softly that it almost made Astarion uncomfortable. “If I had plans to leave you after these tadpoles are gone, then I wouldn’t have bothered with you in the first place. I know what you are, Astarion. I know what comes with being a vampire. That’s not going to change how I feel about you.”

He couldn’t suppress the frustrated sigh that escaped him. “That’s easy for you to say now,” he said, surprisingly calm. “But when you’re confined to the darkness-”

“I’ll still love you.”

It was the first use of the word between the couple. A word Astarion didn’t have a lot of experience with, which was why he couldn’t decipher between whether the feeling in his chest when he heard the intimidating word was a reciprocating feeling of love or whether he was dying on the spot. His eyes snapped back to his partner, but they were now staring off towards the water again, watching as the sun disappeared into the horizon and took its warmth with it.

Yet he still felt warmth. It was growing almost painfully in his chest as his heart thumped at an alarming rate. Any time he had heard someone explain what love felt like, the word warmth had almost always come up.

“The sun’s gone,” Tav whispered quietly, taking his hand. “And I don’t feel any differently. I mean it, Astarion. I love you.”

Astarion’s whole mouth felt like cotton. He did love them, he could physically feel it within him. But he was afraid that the words could not form yet. Sure, he’d falsely told people he loved them for manipulation purposes, but real love was a huge step for him, and he felt he needed to truly understand its meaning before he could declare such a thing back.

“You don’t need to say anything,” his partner reassured him softly, picking up on his dilemma.

He swallowed hard. “It’s not that I don’t-”

“I know.”

Their eyes finally met, something different presenting itself between them. It felt as though their relationship had taken on a new meaning, one that slightly soothed that voice in his head telling him he was going to end up alone when their mission was over. He just couldn’t believe he had found such a remarkable soul in such a strange and life threatening situation.

Though he couldn’t use the word love just yet, he couldn’t let this moment end with his silence. He knew that he could feel it, and he needed them to know that.

“I’ve always heard the phrase that home is where the heart is…and I never really understood it before now,” he began to conclude. “Nothing ever felt like home to me. Not Baldur’s Gate, and certainly not Cazador’s palace.”

He reached his free hand up to cup Tav’s cheek, his thumb absentmindedly brushing across their slightly blushed skin as they melted into his touch.

“But you…I have a home in you.”

.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this fic! This is my first time writing with a gender neutral character so please be kind if I’ve made any mistakes!

[daemon-in-my-head]

Sorry but I think Gortash is incredibly, well, not jealous but possessive. That man wears his netherstone on his hand, is the chosen of tyranny, obtained a whole ass city, tadpoled his parents, stole from an archdevil and pulled off the whole absolute bit just to piss of the devil that bought him. Which is a very long way of saying; he's a spiteful, bratty, possessive, tyrannical little man who is only happy when he's got it all.

Who also tells your companions as soon as he fucking sees them that Durge was a murderer, worked for him, and insinuates that working wasn't the only thing they did together.

That man is not fine with sharing anything, except his own body for gains but never the murderous Bhaalspawn behind him.

I mean, he knows what defying your God means. He knows about the judgement of the false and forsaken, he knows what consequences that has and he is not aware that Durge picked up on their old gods or jergal as a patron. And still that man is hyped. Cuz the one thing that could absolutely control Durge is gone. Bhaal is gone. Durge is free to be possessed by only him. Of course that bitch is happy and supportive, you've just given him a bloody wonderful gift.

This also explains why he's so happy when he gets push back. Any sane person would argue 'well that's the furthers away from Gortash being able to live out his possessive yandere boyfriend dream' but no, it is not. First of all, Gortash is not sane, he is quite insane seeing what he did and what he continues to do. Sadistic unethical mad scientist and all that. So using normal logic does not work with 'tyranny and hivemind is wonderful' - Lord Enver Gortash. He does not think like a sane person because arguably brother aint sane. But what does work for him is a subject that is just daring enough to defy even him, because if durge can defy the love of their life (which Gortash thinks he is), they would most definitely reject any other suitor or those who try and claim them otherwise.

If Act 3 wasn't so fast paced and telling Gortash you've defeated Orin would allow you to get to the brain asap that man would probably start abducting and killing your companions himself. Because 'my durge, hands off bitch' Enver Gortash does not appreciate Durges new company whatsoever and like, he's giving 'worshipping' vibes.

[littlejuicebox]

An Early Highharvestide Feast

(Soft Dom Astarion x Female Reader)

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Setting: 4 years after BG3, "good" ending, Unascended Astarion x F Reader Notes: Took a break from my WrenxAstarion fic to write this Thanksgiving-themed (kind of but not really... lol it just worked for the plot), one shot. This idea was playing in my head, and I had to get it out. Hope you all enjoy and have a happy Thanksgiving! This might end up being a Part 1 of a mini story. I'd like to do the fluff scene with all their friends around and imagine the lives they've lived. I love to see comments about what you liked in the story, it inspires me for other fics. Rating: Mature 18+ / smut Word Count: 2.5K

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You’re in the kitchen, flowers strewn about the marble countertop as you arrange the bouquets for tomorrow’s banquet. It’s been four years since you’ve seen everyone at the same time, and finally, finally, the old gang will be back together in one room in less than 24 hours. Your heart practically soared in anticipation... a Highharvestide banquet in your very own home, with your favorite people in the world. You wanted everything to be just perfect.

The planning had taken weeks. Astarion had left the menu to you, of course, apart from the wine and alcohol selection. He had taken that from you quite early on and it had been more than a tenday before he solidified his choices between his frequent business meetings and your political events. He’d focused heavily on guiding you both in politics and expanding your wealth the past few years, while you focused on gardening and improving Baldur's Gate... plus navigating the lack of anonymity in your life.

Admittedly, you’d stumbled clumsily through your change in status, from unknown woman to Lady Ancunin, while Astarion glided into the position like he’d simply left his post for a long vacation. You’d been happy to take the lead in the wilds while a tadpole was lodged in everyone's brains, but you were even happier to hand the reins to him once the city was safe. And you were always proud to tell your friends that he’d navigated the two of you through the changes quite well.

In fact, he'd just purchased a second property outside of Baldur’s Gate with aims to start your very own winery; his pet project that he loved quite dearly. It was beautiful to watch Astarion approach something with such passion and vigor. After becoming the heroes of Baldur’s Gate, it had pained you that he could no longer stand in the sun. Not as much as it so obviously pained him. His mask was carefully crafted, and yet you often saw right through it. You hoped that perhaps one of your friends would bring news of a cure for his condition to the feast.

He had always been adamant that he’d make the same choice over and over again, but guilt still stabbed you like a dagger to the gut when you saw him watch the sun rise from the deepest depths of your manor or caught him studying your tan lines from your many hours spent out in the garden, your own personal pet project, specializing primarily in night blooming plants.

Astarion’s voice pulls you from your reverie as he enters the kitchen with Scratch trailing behind him. His vermillion eyes are focused on a scroll in his hands as he grasps a bone from a jar and tosses it into the dog’s bed. Scratch obediently settles himself into the plush mattress, content to gnaw away at the treat.

“Darling, your dog went after the chickens again. One of the staff had to run him down and then give him a bath. We may want to seriously consider a trainer. Command beast works all well and good when you’re around, but not everyone has that skill set in their repertoire, dear.” His tone carries just the slightest tinge of annoyance; you two have had this conversation before. But you know in his heart of hearts that Astarion loves the blasted dog perhaps more than you do.

You glance at Scratch, currently focused on giving you his best look of feigned innocence. The look reminds you quite a bit of another white-haired miscreant standing in that very same kitchen and you chuckle. Distracted, you feel the miscalculated slip of your hand as you reach for a particularly thorned flower stem. The punishing sting causes you to wince and pull in a sharp intake of breath. Blood blooms in buds of red on your fingers and the scent catches Astarion’s attention immediately.

His eyes are alight as he chides you. “You really must stop bleeding everywhere, my heart. It’s distracting.” He places the scroll down and comes to your side, grasping your hand in his to examine the damage.

“Perhaps if you helped me with these arrangements like I’d asked, I wouldn’t be in this situation, my love.” You respond with a soft huff, but you extend your hand towards the vampire, already quite aware what his next move will be. He bends to lick the red droplets from your skin before he kisses the knuckle of your hand. Astarion will never waste such a precious thing, that much is certain.

“Perhaps if you more frequently used the staff -- that we pay quite well, might I add -- to do things like tend your garden, put all these flowers in vases, and perform any number of menial tasks, then you wouldn’t be in this situation.” The vampire retorts with a raised eyebrow. “All of this is below your station now. It truly pains me to see your beautiful hands doing such things, my dear.”

You smile as you close your eyes and whisper a healing incantation, sealing the superficial wounds with minimal effort. You swivel in your seat and turn to face your husband, eyebrow arched to mirror his own, voice slipping into a coy register. “And what, Lord Ancunin, would you rather see my hands doing?”

You won. You could see it in the darkening of his eyes as he placed his hands on either side of the counter and pressed forward to look at you, red eyes flitting between yours.

Astarion had ebbed and flowed in his sexual appetites, especially in the first few years of your union. He had been plagued by panic attacks and night terrors something awful; they still occurred but not with the same horrid frequency. Your many nights of herbal teas and "flower child" magic, as he so lovingly called it, eased the suffering. You’d been content to ride the waves of desire with him, and it seemed more recently, as the two of you adjusted to domestic life, his appetites had returned with force.

His face hovered just inches in front of yours, eyes alight with a combination of adoration and lust as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before pulling back and running his eyes greedily down your body, cocking his head as he fantasized about any number of dirty things. “I have several delicious ideas for those hands, darling.”

The flowers were scattered on the ground, along with a broken vase in an instant. The vampire hoisted you up with relative ease before placing you onto the cool, marbled counter. His hands grazed up the side of your silken gown and then delved under the hem to explore your bare skin. He quickly found his way to the junction between your thighs and a pleased, rakish smile crossed his face.

“No underclothes, Lady Ancunin? You truly do desire to test my patience today.” His eyes locked with yours as he knelt in front of you, draping your legs over his shoulders and pushing your dress up to reveal you to him fully.

You would have to enlist the help of the staff tomorrow afternoon. The tradeoff was well worth it, you thought, as your silver-haired husband bowed his head before you to run his tongue against your slit, a little hum escaping him as he tasted your warmth. He ran his tongue up to your clit, his lazy, languid strokes pressing into you. Always such a tease.

“Astarion…” You murmur, bucking your hips toward the vampire as your hands found silver curls of hair and took hold.

A smile snaked its way across his lips as he continued his torment. You were wriggling, desperate for more, which the elf adamantly denied you, his hands gripping into your thighs as he brushed his feather light tongue against you once more. Just enough stimulation to keep your attention, but not enough to provide any relief.

“My love..” Your tone is practically begging for him to give you more.

“Mm, darling. I do believe I need to show you what else your hands could do, don’t I?” He grabs your hand and yanks it towards your sex, where he guides you to play with yourself. Hungry red eyes watch the show as arousal begins to drip from you onto the countertop. He slips two long fingers deep inside your cunt and curls them slightly, pumping the digits in and out, which earns him a delightful moan. Still on his knees, the vampire removes his fingers from inside your walls and licks your juices off his hand before sliding your legs off his shoulders and standing. He makes quick work of ripping your gown over your head, pressing gentle kisses against the newly freed flesh of your chest. You are now completely barren and exposed to your lover, his lustful eyes stoking the fire between your legs.

His own arousal is now clearly straining against his clothes. Astarion quickly undoes the buttons of his collar and lacings of his trousers, freeing his cock before your hungry gaze. You’re still playing with yourself as you watch the man completely undress before you.

“Now darling…” He murmurs in that sensual tone reserved only for you. He guides your unoccupied hand to the twitching length of his cock and wraps it around the shaft, giving a few experimental pumps into your hand. “What else can your beautiful hands do?”

You take the queue and begin moving your hand around his length. Astarion hisses in pleasure, rolling his hips as he fucks your hand. The vision is quite lewd; you're playing with your own pussy as you pump your lover’s cock in time, your respective arousals just inches from one another but not touching. It's enough to cause the heat in your cheeks and your sex to rise and illicit several excited keens from you. He teasingly moves his length closer to your entrance, pulling away just as the head of his member brushes against you. You want to scream every time he pulls away, the bastard lives to tease you to the edge of desire.

Astarion was watching the scene with rapt interest, absolutely transfixed. His breath was quickening as he pressed himself into your hand, watching the head of his penis sheath and unsheathe itself under your ministrations as your pussy prayed to be plunged into, leaking arousal all over the cold countertop. He was always more in control in these situations, able to keep a firm hold on his desire in a way you never could.

“Look at my little treat, making such a mess on these expensive counters.” He murmured in mock disappointment and mock condescension, eyes burning with excitement. “Play with yourself and show me the mess you make when you cum for me, my sweet.”

You moan, desperate to have him fill you. “Astarion, please. Fuck me already. Please.” You’re keening, fingers rubbing against your clit with vigor. Desperate for something to fill the ache inside you, you remove your hand from your lover’s cock and shove two fingers into your wetness. The stimulation is fantastic and rips a moan from your vocal cords as your head tilts back.

Astarion chuckles darkly at the scene before him. It was no secret that he loved the way you inflated his ego when you begged for him, a writhing mess of wanton desire for his eyes only. The do-good, stoic hero of Baldur’s Gate turned into a desperate, needy little minx under his touch. He never tired of it. “Cum for me, darling. And then you will get your reward.”

You aim to do as he says, using one hand to plunge in and out of yourself while the other rubs frantically at your clit. Your legs are spread wide, displaying everything to the vampire as you push yourself towards release. Finally, the bubble bursts and an orgasm crashes around you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body and into your thobbing sex. The pulsing seems nearly endless, and you feel the ooze of your juices sliding between your legs as you ride the wave of pleasure. When you come to your senses and flutter your lids open, Astarion's eyes are boring into you with such desire that it causes a tremor of excitement to run down your spine.

In one swift move he has you in a new position. Your feet are on the floor, albeit legs a bit shaky, and your ass is turned toward your lover, body bent at the waist. Your face is pressed into the counter, into the stickiness of your own juices. Everything smells of sex.

A delicious groan escapes from the vampire as he presses the head of his cock into your entrance, ready to take you from behind. “Beautiful... now, let’s see if I am able to make you come undone once more.”

Astarion slams into you with vigor, the force of the movement knocking the wind out of you as he groans in appreciation. Your soaking wet sex offers no resistance and you gasp at the pleasure of the rapid intrusion. He repeatedly drags himself back at a tortuous, languid pace just to thrust himself balls-deep once more, snapping his hips into the flesh of your ass, moaning every time he takes you to the hilt.

“Oh gods!” You exclaim as he picks up the pace, pumping into you with increasing speed, his cock curving gratifyingly along your insides. You feel yourself clenching around him as his efforts push you toward another peak.

Astarion growls and grabs your hand, guiding it once again to your clit. You’re climbing up to a second release as he rolls his hips behind you in an unceasing onslaught.

“There you go, little love. Won’t you cum for me again?” He coaxes in a graveled whisper as his lips and tongue trail down your spine, never once ceasing his thrusts. The vampire’s teeth find a beautiful little spot at the meeting point of your shoulder and neck, and he bites down, just enough to draw blood. The sensation pushes you over the edge and you spasm around your lover, your cunt eagerly gripping at his length.

“Oh! Oh... oh, my love.” The vampire groans as your throbbing sex pushes him over the edge, his final pumps turning sloppy as he spills into you. The two of you are a mess of panting chests and tired limbs for a few moments before Astarion straightens himself up and gently pulls you from the counter, dotting kisses along your shoulder where he left the bite.

"That was wonderful." You whisper, turning to face the vampire as you plant a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Mmh.” Astarion agrees in a little hum as he looks down at you with soft and loving eyes, pushing strands of hair away from your face before holding your chin in his hand and planting another kiss on your lips. The slightest of smiles flits across his lips as he runs his hands down to the curve of your waist. You move to begin cleaning up the mess you two made when your lover grabs your hand and begins to tug you away from the kitchen.

"Now, now, darling. Leave that be. I haven't finished showing you what else your hands can do… and we only have a bit longer before our friends show and ruin all the fun. Seems my Highharvestide feast came a day early." He muses, before eagerly leading you to the bedroom you both share. The flowers would have to wait.

——-

Part 2: Happy Highharvestide Day (all fluff)

[madschiavelique]

Hi! So, modding has ruined me and as such I’d like to request the Origin Companions with a Lich Tav / S/O? Like, they did the whole process a while ago and only now with the Tadpole Sitch have they returned from death and have no idea what they’re doing and are far weaker than they expected. Maybe they show the companion a sign of “I love and trust you” by allowing them to (gently) hold their phylactery? Idk, fill how you see fit if you want :]

hi anon!! sorry it took so long but i wanted to make a bit of research for it to be accurate. i hope you'll like it!!

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ characters : shadowheart, astarion, gale, lae'zel, wyll, karlach

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : a bit of angst, but some comfort

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 1.4k (250~ per characters)

( not proofread, english is not my first language ☆)

─ ‧ shadowheart :

at a first glance, you amazed her as much as terrified her. but it was mostly a terrified respect. because being a lich, aka an undead sorcerer who seeks to transcend death itself is in clear opposition to the cycle of life and death, which is a central theme of most faiths including Shar’s.

she swore you must have followed Shar herself though as, per her words, “the darkness that precedes you would make a fierce soldier in her eyes.”

chances are that Shadowheart will have to put some parts of her faith in question for you, but on the other hand she could simply see your powers as a sort of extension of Shar’s influence.

as time goes by however, she realises a lot of prejudices held against lichs such as being cold and goal driven can be wrong, especially when it comes about you.

she’d be very much interested in hearing you talk about the process of becoming a lich. she admires your patience and devotion so much, a person as old and wise as you has seen more than she ever will and she craves to know more about your life, before becoming a lich and during it.

if you ever allowed her to hold your phylactery, she would never doubt your sincerity ever again. she knows how much this act means for her, for you, for your relationship, and she would not forget it nor lower it for anything in Faerun.

─ ‧ astarion :

when astarion learns about you being a lich at the very beginning of your adventure, it is certain that you and him would bicker about your age.

“how old are you? i didn’t know mummies could have such deplorable fashion styles, but how could it be otherwise considering you’re older than most of Gale’s books“ he said, to which you’d answer “it pains me that i have lived long enough to see idiots like you being born.”

it’s really just a game of bickering at the beginning, especially when you underlined that most liches are more powerful than vampires.

this however brought a spark to him, because if you were indeed more powerful than most vampires, then you would be of great utility in helping him go against his master.

over time of you gaining back your powers and abilities, he found something absolutely breathtaking in your darkness, your devotion, your ambition to outlive anything in your path.

he would see an opportunity to live in eternity by your sides. all other mortals perish eventually, and the knowledge of having you by his sides for all eternity makes him impossibly happy.

you offering him to hold your phylactery would mean the world to him, because he knew that if he had such a thing, he would have gave it to you. it’s an incomparable proof of your trust for him, no one had ever allowed him such an honour and you can be sure he will value it greatly.

─ ‧ gale :

this man is a scholar, and it would be lying to say that apart from being frightened and pretty much offended that you are here, he is extremely curious. 

he obviously has a deep fascination of magic, particularly the forbidden type, and you are a literal gift from the skies to be in his path.

ethical boundaries aside, i don’t think he will be able to shut up. 

you will be bombarded by all types of questions about the whole entire process of becoming a lich, from your years to learning about the Arcane arts to the gathering the rare and powerful components needed for the creation of your phylactery. 

He will not let you rest, he needs answers he’s been pondering on for so long and you’re here with all the answers.

This however raises for him the question of morality and mortality, unless he takes the path of moving from Evocation to Necromancy, in which case one could say he found the perfect pair.

Having gale as your s/o while being a lich is something you didn’t expect, in the sense that being with gale made you feel understood and seen.

If you allow gale to touch your phylactery, he would jump to the ceiling. He would hold it gently and ask about each and every part of it, asking how you got the components, how you assembled it all and how it felt once you had completed the entire process. But most of all, he is extremely aware of what it means and how much of a token of trust and respect it is for you to allow him to handle such a precious object.

─ ‧ lae'zel :

Lae’zel’s first approach would most definitely be one of suspicion. Githyankis and their traditions consider others as weak or unnatural, especially those who use necromancy. Chances are her first thoughts about you gravitate around repulsion, since you alone represent a source of power that is so dishonorable.

She would take quite the time to let herself trust you. There is one thing she cannot deny about you that changes during your adventure : you’re powerful, very powerful. When you start gaining back some of your powers and offer proper almost overwhelming force of will, you’ve owned lae’zel’s respect (no matter of grudgingly she acknowledges you as a worthy potential partner). 

Plus, your immortality is an asset in battle that cannot be circumvented.

In the end, your strong senses of battle and unrelenting determination won her.

When you allowed her to handle your phylactery, she was confused as to what such an artefact was. But when you explained to her that your very remains of life and mortality were in that very object, her heart leaped in her chest. For you to offer your life and allow her to have it in her own hands proved to her that you were more trustworthy than any other allies and lovers.

─ ‧ wyll :

His original reaction to your situation would be disbelief. He’d only ever heard of Lichs in storybooks or tails one would mysteriously count in a tavern. But a real one, in the flesh ? that was a first for him.

The concept of necromancy alone is not one Wyll appreciates much. It defies moralities and mortality to bring back from the dead. He’s worked hard to defeat enemies in the past that used such methods to build armies and soulless soldiers, and he is frightened of having feelings for you when these questions pull to the front of his mind.

But his sense of forgiveness would take over. Along the road to Baldur’s Gate, during your many adventures, he saw how your dedication to getting the team out of a deadly situation was pure and true.

It’s hard for him to deconstruct so many beliefs he’s had on necromancy and lichs in general, but he’s willing to do it for you. He does fear that it will be an imbalance relationship, but he wants to try.

But this thought vanishes from his mind when you allow him to touch your phylactery. He’s heard of such artefacts, of what they hold within, and it undoubtedly makes his heart stammer. He’ll never ever doubt of your love for him, that is for certain.

─ ‧ karlach :

Karlach’s first impression of her s/o being a Lich would not be positive, since being a lich represents the concept of immortality at the cost of the soul, and it could be something she finds repulsive.

Because you had the choice to abandon your mortality, your life, and you took it while she never had a choice on her own mortality.

But when you started travelling together, fighting together, living together, she didn’t find you so bad after all. It felt like you were just one of them, just a person with ambitions and goals.

She realised the lengths at which you were ready to go for your companions, and it owned her trust and admiration.

And when you kept finding infernal iron and stopped anything you were all doing just to go see Dammon as soon as you could to get her heart fixed, she knew she could trust you and appreciate you.

She has her own fears of being with you though, the fatality of her own heart failing her in opposition to your eternity frightened her beyond belief. What will happen if she dies and you go on without her ? She is very much tormented about this question.

But she loves you, and she knows you love her.

When you allow her to touch your phylactery, she would crumble in tears as if you’re offering her a wedding ring. If she could take out her mechanical heart from her chest and give it to you without dying the same way you give her the last piece of life you own in this world, she would.

[faerunnn]

Memories

(GIF found Here! :D )

Hello, so i am back. With something a lil angsty, a lil fluffy. You guys should know the drill by now. Please let me know your thoughts :D

Astarion x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2464

It has been quite some time since the battle of Baldur's Gate. You all went your separate ways, occasionally catching up with one another but as time and lives went on, slowly drifting more apart. Everyone was slowly finding the lives they wanted to live. Some moved away from the city, wanting to forget it all. Some stayed around. Including you. Baldur's gate was the only place you ever truly was able to call home. And while your wanderlust had taken you to many places, you always found your way back to the city. 

You sometimes wondered how the others were doing. Wandering what could have been, wondering what was never meant to be. You miss your old companions sometimes. But their happiness was what kept you smiling when thinking back on your adventures. There was barely any room for heartache when everyone got what they wanted. Everyone but you. 

After the battle against the Elder brain you and Astarion never fully established what it was that the two of you had. The connection that was shared. There was something there, for sure. But the both of you being too stubborn to talk about it, acknowledge it. That same stubbornness led to the both of you drifting apart. Slowly but surely, until you stopped hoping that he might show up at your doorstep. Stopped visiting his place, stopped meeting at the usual spots. Your pride got in the way of your happiness, once again. The one time you felt like you truly had met your equal. A ‘’soulmate’’, if those were even real. You beat yourself up about for a while, until time got in the way. 

It has been over a year since you last saw each other. And it wasn't until tonight that you went back to one of the taverns you and your companions would occasionally meet to catch up. You rather not go there but some of your co-workers insisted you’d tag along for a drink after a very long work day. And it had been a long day indeed. You wanted to just go home, take a bath and curl up in your sheets and sleep for days. But one drink couldn't hurt, right? 

The party all gathered outside of the office and you all walked toward the familiar pub. A whiff of alcohol and sweat already hit your nose as you got closer. It must be a busy night. Maybe a famous bard was playing tonight. The music did sound quite lovely opposed to other nights of horrible out of tune lutes being played inside the tavern walls. You all gathered a small table in the corner of the main hall, scooting closer together and just catching up on life while enjoying a somewhat decent drink. The drinks have never been great here, but that somehow made you feel even more nostalgic of the many tears, laughs and memories shared in this space. You wondered if there was a way to get everyone back here sometime soon. 

‘’So,’’ one of your male co-workers turned to you. ‘’What is it truly like being the hero of Baldur's gate?” A small smirk present on his lips and a playful look swirling in his eyes. All of your co-workers knew this was a topic you’d rather not talk about. Not because you're ashamed, but there was no need to brag about all the lives it had cost to save the city, guilty or innocent. You swallowed and gave him a tight smile before taking a rather large gulp of your drink. The alcohol is now slowly starting to kick in. 

‘’Well, I suppose it is.. Flattering. I wouldn't consider myself a hero. But i am glad the city is somewhat safe again.’’ you said. Not really wanting to dig deep into the topic at all, even if you were slowly starting to feel more tipsy.

‘’Oh, come on! There must be something to tell. What about the tadpole? You were supposed to be dead, respectfully.’’ he carefully said. 

‘’Yes, I was. But I am glad I am not. Though I wouldn't recommend anyone carrying a worm inside their head, it did save my life in a way. The experience itself was rather unusual, I suppose. I don't think there's anything I can compare it to.’’ as you start talking you hear a bit more commotion on the other side of the room. But from your angle you can't tell what's going on. Probably another tavern fight between two drunk sailors. Wouldn't be the first time. After a quick glance that way you quickly return to your conversation. 

‘’What about your companions? Do you still see them?’’ A female co-worker asked you nervously. 

‘’Uhm, we uhm. We occasionally see each other yes.’’ Not a complete lie. But these people didn't need to know the whole truth. ‘’Does anyone want another drink?’’ you quickly ask before any more questions on the topic could arise. You get up from the table and walk up to the bar to order another round for the whole table. Your last, you decided. It has been a long day and sleep was going to creep up on you soon. You look back at your colleagues while you wait and reminisce about the times that table was filled with your companions instead. 

After a short while you take the drinks back to the table and join in on the conversation that had been started while you were gone when all of a sudden the commotion rose again. But this time it was loud, and people started getting out of the way.  It was then that you noticed it was indeed a fight. While you were about to roll your eyes and take a big gulp of your drink you recognized a certain mop of white hair and pointy ears. Oh god. Your eyes widened. Your body froze. It was him. Fighting an orc almost twice his size.. In the middle of a tavern. He was wearing an all black outfit, which looked almost too good on his body. A dagger held to the neck of the orc as he held him in place. Reminding you of the time the two of you had met. He really hasn't changed much. 

You got up from where you were sitting and got a little closer to the situation, trying to blend in with the crowd whilst figuring out what the hell had happened. You saw coins scattered on the table, drinks that once had been in tankards spilled over the floor and chairs. 

‘’You better watch your damn mouth around here, elf.’’ The orc said. Trying to push himself back to his feet. ‘’Others might not show you the same mercy.’’ as he pushed Astarion from his frame, he got up. Gathered some of his coins and turned around to leave. Whilst Astarion did the same. You looked back at your colleagues and they were too caught up in their own conversations to notice you left the table again. You made a split decision, not even really thinking while your legs just carried you out of the tavern the same way he left. 

He was already well out in the street again while the darkness of the night was about to lure him back into the shadows. You almost panicked, you didn't even know what you were going to say to him once you confronted him with your presence. You just let your feet carry you.

The weather had changed from a somewhat chilly afternoon to a rainy evening. Making your vision even worse. You kept on walking until you reached a crossroads. He has slipped from your vision, unknown which turn he had made, you looked around once more. Hoping to catch a glimpse of his frame. Alas, he was gone. You sighed in defeat as you wanted to turn back around, making your way back to the tavern. Coming up with an excuse as to why your clothes and hair are drenched. A small tear slipped from your eye, blending in perfectly with the raindrops that had been collecting on your cheeks. You looked down at your clothes, now completely soaked. But you didn't care anymore. Something in you stirred. A feeling you had buried deep within the depths of your heart. A flame reigniting slowly. Love. a feeling you had not felt in a while. Even only seeing him, so briefly, it brought everything back up. You looked up into the sky, closed your eyes and took a deep breath before finally turning around, walking back. Maybe you needed this. A very cruel way of the universe telling you to let him go. Fully letting him go. No more small hopes, no more wishing he would magically be on your doorstep. He slipped from your grasp tonight. Maybe rekindling was never an option to begin with.

You took a few steps back toward the tavern, hands wrapped around your own body to somewhat comfort yourself in a way. No more tears were going to be shed on the topic. It had been too long. You deserved happiness, peace. You had fought your battles. And now it was time to find your place in this life. 

‘’What's a lady like yourself doing alone on the streets at this hour?’’ a creepy voice behind you said all of a sudden. You quickly froze, and looked around. Trying to find the body that matched the voice. You found none. You quickly tried to make your way back to the tavern but realized it would still be quite the distance. And with the rain clouding your vision, you didn't really know if you were walking in the right direction. Panic rushed through your body as you tried to make out which way to go, not wanting to get lost. Suddenly a hand made its way around your waist. Roughly pulling your body into a  much larger frame. You tried to get yourself out of the grasp of the stranger but you were unable to, he was too strong. You looked over your shoulder and recognised him. It was the orc from the tavern fight. 

‘’This is a dangerous place for someone like you, you know. I should bring you somewhere safe.’’ he said, getting awfully close to your neck. He held you in a tight embrace, there was no way to get out of his grasp. ‘’I know just the place to treat a nice lady like yourself exactly the way she deserves to be treated. All the things i am going to do to yo–’’ He couldn't finish his sentence, as he started sputtering and coughing up blood. Covering your clothes and hair in drops of his bodily liquids as his body went limp behind you, you quickly got out of his grasp and stumbled forward when your foot got caught on a piece of cobblestone. You stumbled forward and cried out when your body hit the ground, hard. You took a quick peek over your shoulder whilst crawling away and saw the orcs body lay there, lifeless and cold.  A tall frame looming over his body. The figure then bent down and retrieved a dagger from the orcs neck. He wiped it clean on his clothes and slit it back into the sheath on his belt. You were terrified. You see the frame walking closer toward you as you try to get up and run away again. There were times where murder didn't bother you. But that life was in your past now. This was not the reality you wanted to live out anymore. Too much blood had been shed by your hands. 

As you were trying to regain your balance you noticed that your wrist had taken too much of your weight when you fell. You didn't know if it was broken or just badly sprained, but it hurt like hell either way. The frame got closer to you and that's when you noticed. 

The white hair, pale skin. Red eyes that had never been more aflame than they were in this moment. It was Astarion. He saved your life. You gasped when he was close enough to fully be in your vision. The very dim street lights are not doing him justice. He had never looked more beautiful than he did in this moment. His curly hair now sticking to his face from the rain, concern in his eyes. You both stared at each other in silence for a moment before you took a step toward him and pulled him into your frame. A soft sob leaving your lips as you felt him slowly wrap his arms around you, pulling you so close, like he was never going to let you go again. 

‘’I’m sorry.’’ he said softly after staying in the moment for a while. You look up at him in confusion. ‘’I am sorry that I didn't try hard enough. I am sorry that I never really told you how I felt. I am sorry that–’’ before he could even continue his unnecessary apologies you kissed him. Softly, so tenderly. Hands cupping his cheeks. He was taken aback by your action but quickly melted into the kiss. A hand going up to the back of your neck, one lingering on your lower back. You pull back from him for a second and look into his eyes, trying to see if there's any form of hesitation in his stare. But there isn't. 

‘’You don't have to say sorry. If anyone has to apologize it is me. I should've told you how I felt. I should've made the effort too. I guess this is on both of us. But I want you to know there has not been a day where I haven't thought about you.’’ you say. ‘’There are many things that have stopped me in the past. Many things I feared. But I am done being scared.’’ 

You look into his eyes. A small smile crept on his lips while you were talking. One you have missed so much, one you had been hoping to see every day for the past year. But fear has gotten the best of you. Your ego being too fragile, too weak. A small young girl, frightened of abandonment, had been making decisions in your life to make the risk as small as possible. But you were done with being afraid. You would rather risk the fear than live the rest of your days alone. 

Astarion pulled you close again and placed a small kiss on your forehead. 

‘’This is where our future begins.’’ 

And it was then that you fully realized, he is more of yourself than you are. Whatever our souls are made of, his and yours were the same.

[riddlesrose]

on the chest of another

w/ astarion

cw; none but maybe mild ooc astarion

hi yeah i haven't posted in 13 months my bad enjoy

He doesn't know the last time he felt truly comfortable with another living person, he’d been turned into a blood-thirsty vampire hundreds of years ago, he slowly learnt that the people he attempts to love will wither away while he stays put, same age, same face, though he can’t see it. Astarion watches the world change and reform around him while he retains memories of those he loved before they were either taken by the cold hands of death itself or he was forced to sacrifice them to his evil lord, Cazador. 

When he’d been taken, kidnapped, vampnapped off the streets of Baldur’s Gate, he’d never been so thankful, he was free, albeit trapped in a flying ship with aliens and other kidnapees, he was free from Cazador and the horrible treatment he’d endured for years upon years. He felt unrestricted until they threw him into a pod, then forcefully inserted an alien-type creature into his eye. He writhed in pain, attempting to free his arms, hands or legs to fight back, but it proved fruitless, he was stuck, and now, he had no idea what was going to happen to him. 

Astarion doesn’t know how long he’d been out, unconscious but before he could collect his thoughts, he realized that the flying ship he was, unfortunately, still on, was on fire, being actively attacked. 

After the ship had been knocked around a few times, set more on fire, he noticed a person, they were free, walking around like nothing was happening, or maybe looking for an exit, but they were definitely too far for anything to be heard had he banged on the front of his pod. That’s it, this is his end, he’ll probably just die when this ship inevitably crashes. Oh well, it’s a better outcome than being Cazador’s slave for the rest of his miserable life. 

Astarion stirred, feeling the sun warm his body, wait, the sun? He shot up, he should be turning to ash, he lifted his hands to check he really wasn’t chipping away in the sunlight. This has to be a cruel joke, Cazador or someone of his likes toying with him, teasing him with what he misses and has missed for the past 200 years. That and maybe his own reflection. But oh dear, how he’s missed the sun. The feeling, how it makes him feel, he feels happy, momentarily, until he remembers what just happened. First, getting kidnapped, then having some kind of tadpole inserted into his brain, now, he’s in the sun. What the hell. 

Then he also remembers the lone traveller that wandered free upon the ship, they’re probably around here somewhere, he better lure them out, question them. 

Many weeks passed by, Astarion ended up joining forces with the traveller he almost attacked, whom he learned goes by Tav, a Githyanki, a wizard, a cleric, a Tiefling, a druid and a warlock. He’d fought in many battles, some great, some his companions dragged him to, earned himself a few new friends, shared many stories with the camp, and shared his secret. The camp was very accepting of his condition, as long as he didn’t feed on an unwilling target. Tav was a dear on the night he almost starved, he’d gotten so hungry he thought he’d be able to sneak a quick bite without Tav noticing, guess guards were still too high and they noticed as soon as he got too close at night. After exposing himself on accident, Tav had offered a small amount of their blood to aid him. Now, it’s almost nightly he’ll go find Tav in their tent or bedroll and sate his hunger. Rats and boars just don’t tide him over anymore now that he has his own food source, willing food source. 

“Astarion?” Tav stirred, cracking their eyes, while searching for his. 

“Yes, my dear?” He hovered over them, looking as if he was going to feed but almost backing away this time. 

“I can feel you hesitating, why?” Tav had always been able to feel when he made his way into their tent for his needs, sometimes they woke but never pushed him away or forced him to take less than he needed. 

“Why, I am not! I am simply… going to wait for you to go back to sleep.” He looked proud with his excuse. 

“Lies. There’s another reason.” 

“There is not.”

“Yes there is.”

“No-”

“I’m not going to argue this, Astarion, is there something wrong?” 

He sighed, moved himself to sit by Tav’s legs and looked away, not bashfully, he was embarrassed. Tav sat up as well, but scooted closer to Astarion so he didn’t have to speak above a whisper if he did not see it fit.

“I feel greedy.” His demeanor of wit and confidence melted away as the bugs and frogs sang their night songs in the nearby pond. The night was cold, usually lonely, but he felt a sort of comfort with Tav that he hadn’t felt in years, he vowed to himself after he was turned that all mortals were never to be loved by him. They were going to die and he wasn’t. It wasn’t fair, he wanted to grow old with someone he loved deeply, he wanted more than to be someone’s pawn, a spawn of evil intent, born to do no good. 

Tav did not say anything, only tilting their head to the side with empathy shining in their eyes. 

“Now, I’m not asking for pity, dear, don’t give me that look.” 

“I know, I was simply allowing you to continue without interrupting, but look where we are.” 

“Cheeky. Fine,” He took a breath, thinking for a moment, “I haven’t been free of Cazador in two hundred years, I am unsure how to feel, how to live, frankly. I have been his slave, I’ve done his dirty work for as long as I can remember, I had no way out, I was underfed, mistreated, beaten, used, abused, everything you can think of darling, I experienced it under Cazador’s orders.” Sometime during his small rant you had moved closer, draping a blanket around his shoulders, and rested a hand on his shoulder, showing support without interrupting him. Astarion looked over to you with pain and sadness in his glossy red eyes. 

“Why don’t you stay for a while, you can leave before the sun comes up, no one has to know the witty and confident Astarion we all know stayed the night in another’s tent.” Tav proposed. They moved back onto the bedding they had tucked into the most private part of their tent, allowing him to follow if he chose to. He was not pressured, not forced, but given complete free will of his actions, something he still could not fully capture the grasp of because of his past. He thought on the choices he was proposed, 

“Only for a few minutes.” He decided since he doesn’t really sleep anyways, he’s an elf. He crept a few inches closer, unsure of where to go, Tav lied down and patted their chest, colour rose to Astarion’s pale cheeks, he was thankful it was dark. He took a few awkward seconds of staring at Tav before snapping out of his trance and shuffling back a few inches so his head could rest on their chest, he felt out of place, inconvenient, a burden to Tav’s sleeping. He was about to get up and thank Tav for their time before they brushed their hand through his messy curls and he stopped. His heart began beating a tad bit faster, he promised, no swore, that no mortal would make him feel this comfortable, loved, cared for, he knew what was inevitable… 

After many minutes, Tav could feel his breathing slow as they continued to rake their hand through his hair, untangling pieces every so often, they watched his eyelashes flutter before his breathing fell in tempo with their own. Tav guessed it had been a while since he’d felt comfortable, given his history and all. It was true, so for the first time in many, many years, Astarion fell asleep to the sound of a heart beating in the chest of another. 

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hi cutie <3 I was wondering if you'd like to write a little Gale x plus size!reader... some domestic after-the-journey fluff where they're just happy with their lives together <333 I love youuuuuuuuu

.⋆｡Home By The Sea｡⋆.

Gale Dekarios x plus size reader

He’s found his home, he’s found his person and now, Gale has finally found his peace

Warnings: domestic fluff, mentions of Gale’s past, overall just a happy fic

WC: 493

Minors DNI

A/N: welcome back my love 🥰

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Peace. That was a feeling that Gale of Waterdeep had never felt. He was a wizard, he had a purpose in the world that was far greater than himself. He worked hard at his craft, learning as much and as quickly as he could so that he could fulfil his sworn duty. Even when he was by himself in his precious library sipping a glass of expensive wine, his body buzzed with anxiety and the feeling that he had to be accomplishing something.

But it was so different now. Peace came easily, just as easily as the sun rose each morning, just as easy as he breathed, just as easy as he loved you. There were no battles to fight, no tadpoles to get rid of- there was just a contented quiet. 

“I’m home!” Your voice travelled through your small ocean-side house like a summer breeze, immediately pulling Gale from the book you had bought him just yesterday. “The market was so busy today! But I managed to get those fruits you like for a pie and a nice piece of fish for Tara.”

You flitted about the kitchen while packing away your groceries, not noticing your betrothed standing in the doorway, a soft look upon his face. Your affection for him had never been conditional, freely given even when he was at his lowest and actively pushed you away.

“I was thinking that we could go for a walk tonight to stargaze, the woman in the bookshop said there might be comets tonight.” He traced the soft curves of your body with his dark eyes, unable to believe that you were really real.

“Gale?” He knew you wanted to ask if anything was wrong, if he was suddenly regretting this life with you. His moments of madness hung over both your heads like a dark cloud but this was far from those screaming matches and deadly quiet.

Your plump body relaxed into his hands as he took you by the hips and pulled you into his chest. Your lips, ever soft and perfect, moulded to his like they were made for kissing him. You gasped slightly, not expecting this sudden burst of affection but melting into it like you always did.

Soft arms wound around his neck as the kiss began to grow hungrier but before it could descend into the point of no return, Gale pulled away just far enough for him to meet your gaze. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You gave a parting peck to his lips and stepped away to continue what you were doing before he had distracted you. “Anyway, tomorrow it’s supposed to rain according to the fishermen in the harbour so we can just stay in and catch up on that book Astarion sent us.”

Gale just smiled and nodded along, a warmth blooming in his chest. Yes, this was his peace and by the gods it had been a long time coming.

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Fangs and Fairytales - Chapter 2

༺Summary༻

“As I was saying, you're right, things can't stay the same.” Beside her, she felt him tense. “Living at night is going to be an adjustment, I'm sure. It may take me a while. And we'll have to find ways to make sure you're always safe.”

“You don't-”

“I told you on the roof that day, I'm not going anywhere.”

Now. She reached out, and, careful to avoid his burns, pulled him into her arms. 

“It won't always be easy, I know that. But I'm not giving up.”

There was a time when he would have argued with her, told her she was wrong and this wouldn't work. Instead, he leaned his weight against her and drew a breath he didn't need. “Promise?”

Serafina, a warlock with a hidden past. Astarion, a freed vampire spawn. With the Netherbrain defeated, life and happiness are theirs for the taking. Together they’ll set out on a new adventure to find a way for Astarion to walk in the sun again. There’s no easy path to happily-ever-after though as they quickly find many obstacles blocking their way, including Sera’s own Patron, the Fey Queen Titania.  

In this chapter Serafina and Astarion have a rough start to their life together as both go through their separate struggles.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav/OC)

༺Rating༻ Mature

༺Warnings༻ Angst

༺Word Count༻ 3058

༺A/N༻ Thanks to @icybluepenguinicybluepenguin for not only being a beta but probably 50% of the reason this story exists.

Read on AO3 All chapter here on Tumblr

“Gods, it’s like being back out in the wilderness again,” Astarion groused, unceremoniously dropping the bedroll onto the stone floor. “Could they have at least tried to find a bed?”

“Astarion, half the city is still in ruins. I’m sure beds for down here will be the very next priority.” Serafina lowered her pack next to their bedroll. 

It wasn’t the sleeping arrangements that bothered him, it was having to move underground into the dark. Astarion still agonized over losing the sun, the hopefulness of the first days without the tadpole twisting back around to bitterness. The Elfsong somehow survived the destruction and they had been welcome there, but with all the activity, it didn’t seem the safest place for Astarion to make sure he avoided the sun. 

They’d been there, examining their options - well Astarion had been rejecting all of them with bitterness - when Aylin and Isobel had turned up. Aylin had laid out their plans and an invitation. They'd all huddled around a table in the Elfsong, the din of a crowd eager for distraction and release surrounding them. 

“We will take that which was once in Shar’s foul grasp and turn it into a beacon of hope in my Mother’s holy name!” 

The silence that had followed her words made clear the puzzlement of those present. 

‘What my love means is that we are taking the complex beneath the House of Grief and turning it into a refugee camp. You all are welcome to stay as long as you like,” Isobel had clarified. 

Only Sera, Gale, Astarion, and Shadowheart remained of their companions. Halsin had already begun his mission to transport refugees to the former Reithwin village, and Jaheira and Minsc were aiding the city from Jaheira’s home where she could ostensibly keep an eye on her adopted brood. Though she had made a habit of checking on them as well, coming at night to make sure Astarion was included. Sera hadn’t failed to notice the way she sought him out, and offered him patience and consolation that he often did his best to turn away. 

Adopting strays was an inescapable habit for her, even when this one was older than her. 

“You really think this is a go-” Astarion began and Sera felt herself tense. He'd been slipping back into bitterness lately, understandably so. But it felt like she was trying to pull him back from a precipice, and she was so, so tired herself.

“That sounds like a splendid solution for the time being.” Gale helpfully interjected. “I'm going to stay a while longer to help out myself before heading back to Waterdeep. I'd be thrilled to join you.”

“I agree with Gale.” Sera quickly added. She wouldn't speak for Astarion but she would let her own thoughts be known. 

There was a long pause before Astarion sighed. “I suppose at the very least I won't have to put up with the annoyance of unruly patrons clinging to one of the few taverns still standing.”

Reaching out, Sera took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Whatever it was that really bothered him about staying somewhere else, she would figure out later, in private, where opening up was less threatening. Sleep already called to her though, her new nocturnal normal still an adjustment in the making, and she hoped that tonight he didn’t let himself give into the pull of those dark thoughts, that he would let her be his comfort, and reassurance. 

It had not gone as smooth as her hopes, Astarion insisting there was nothing bothering him except that he was certain this was going to turn into some “Moon Maiden obsessed cult.”

“Fine,” Sera had finally surrendered, sometime just before dawn. “If you don’t want to tell me what’s really wrong.” 

“First I lose the sun, now you want to drag me underground, deeper into the darkness!” Astarion had exploded, fangs bared in a snarl that left her wide-eyed, shaking, and panting. 

It wasn’t as though she believed that Astarion would ever actually hurt her, but something about the raw ferocity of it stoked an instinctual fear of prey faced with predator. And despite herself, she took a step back. 

“Sera.” His face fell as he reached for her, only to have her flinch at his outstretched hand. 

A long moment passed as they stared at one another in silence, hurts open and raw. Tears gathered in Astarion’s crimson eyes that he stubbornly refused to shed. 

Finally, when her heart ached enough that she felt it would split in two, she stepped towards him, silencing the part of her that wanted to fear, and found herself in his embrace. His arms crushed her to him as they clung to one another, so much passing between them without words. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what it felt like to you.” Sera was the first to speak, face buried in the soft, red fabric of his shirt. 

They’d purchased it at Carm’s Garms while they’d spent a couple nights prepping to enter the city proper from Wyrm’s Crossing. It may have been the first new garment Astarion had ever picked for himself. The look of hesitant joy on Astarion’s face would stay with her, even if he tried to hide it. 

That had been another rough time, Astarion putting up his walls and pushing her and the rest of their friends away with sharp words and a callous demeanor as Cazador loomed closer than ever.

They had made it through that, and they could make it through this. She just had to push on. 

“It’s not your fault. I know you said we’d find a way, but it just feels like I’m drowning in darkness.” 

Not willing to let go, Sera pulled him down into the bed with her, where they stayed wrapped around one another until sleep took her. 

After that day, Astarion had tried his best to temper himself, to let go of that growing bitterness. Though there were days it still threatened to drag him under, and she fought to keep both their heads above water. 

He did relent and agree that they should move to the House of Grief, the deal sweetened by a guarantee of a room to make their own away from the dorms which would be more communal. At least there he would be free to walk around during the day. 

And here they were, spreading a bedroll out on the floor of the old armory, a proper door leading into the cave that had once been Shadowheart’s sanctuary.

“I suppose we're lucky Shadowheart was feeling generous enough to give up her special cave.”  Astarion’s snark seemed mostly good natured. 

Shadowheart was actually overseeing a dorm of displaced families. She'd been eager to jump right in with them, as though it could heal the scars of losing her own parents. 

Sera kneeled down to straighten the bedroll.

“See, there's upsides to this already. A cave is a very appropriate lair for a vampire.” She looked down to hide a smirk, eager to enjoy the moment of levity.

Without a sound, Astarion was looming over her, arms trapping her between himself and the bedroll she’d been fixing. “So now you're an expert on vampires?” His voice was an exaggerated silken purr more like the Astarion she first met. “Tell me, what other secrets are you privy too?”

He spoke almost directly against her ear, making her shiver. 

“Well, a vampire is not as dangerous a creature as one would think. Really, once you give them a little blood, they're very tame. But they require being complimented on a daily basis or they tend to sulk.”

“Tame, you say?” The purr was lost, and she could hear the smile in his words. “I'll show you tame.” 

He pulled her back toward him until they were both sitting, Sera resting in his lap while he kissed her neck softly. Teeth dragged against her skin, threatening to pierce it. “I think you may have underestimated the danger of a vampire. We only play at being tame, but at any time, we could take what we want.”

Astarion’s fangs waited at her neck, seeking permission to dig into her skin and taste of her. 

Sera flicked her eyes to the door, they'd shut it behind them at least. They still had to set up their space, but there was no rush, they could afford to indulge. Letting herself relax into him, until it felt as though the boundaries of their bodies gave way and they were one being, she tilted her head, exposing a swath of her pale neck to him. 

There was no need for words, they'd learned to speak without them. The familiar sharp, cold pain gave way to the expected ecstasy. The first time, she'd been fascinated and afraid, trusting Astarion for some reason even though she'd barely caught him trying to take a taste of her while she slept. 

That anxiety had made the whole experience more painful. The second time had been far less fraught. 

They'd stumbled into a fight with some goblins over a gnome tied to a windmill; making the acquaintance of one Barcus Wroot. Astarion had a goblin arrow graze his shoulder and was fussing over it by the river bank as they set up camp. 

“Are you alright, Astarion?” Sera had followed him down to the bank as he'd stomped away cursing and complaining. How did she not realize how deep she was already in with the irascible vampire. 

“No,” he snapped. He'd stripped himself naked to the waist, pale skin gleaming like polished moonstone in the setting sun, and irritatedly splashed water at the wound. “The one downside to this parasite is not healing like I normally would. This bloody stings like hell and all for a gnome, of all things!” 

“Maybe Shadowheart should look at it,” she’d offered gently, unsure how to handle this Astarion, angry and lashing out. Usually he was either the flirt or the macabre humored rogue. But that morning when she’d questioned him about how he became a vampire, she’d caught the first real glimpse of something dark and horrible beneath that surface, something she should probably fear. And yet here she was. 

“Oh,” the anger vanished in an instant as he turned toward her. “No need to bother our secretive little cleric. It’s barely a scratch and I’m sure Gale turned his ankle or some other nonsense to keep her busy.” 

With preternaturally graceful steps, he’d come up from the bank to loom over her. “You know what would help though?” His voice was all light sweetness as he smirked down at her. “A little blood to help my natural healing along.” 

A blush started in her cheeks and its warmth spread through her at the memory of his body covering hers and the strange intimacy of the drinking her blood. It took entirely too long for her to respond, and his grin widened. “Right. That uh - makes sense.” 

She’d turned to leave to head back to camp and he caught her arm. “No need to get so close to the others, they still don’t seem too fond of the whole vampire thing, we can do just fine right here.” 

They’d settled in the grass on the river bank, as the fading orange light sparkled across the rushing waters, looking like little flames lurking beneath the surface. Sera wasn’t sure she wouldn’t embarrass herself if he told her to lay on her back again and hastily offered her wrist to him. “That should work just as well.” 

For a moment his face fell, as though offended by the offer, but he accepted without complaint. “As you wish, my sweet.” 

The term of endearment was new and Sera couldn’t help but giggle, it was excessive, and a reminder she shouldn’t get too soft for all those honeyed words of his. She’d seen enough of his kind growing up in the Gate, and some she trusted to the point of pain, both physical and emotional. “You don’t need to persuade me Astarion, I’m already doing it.”

“Ah - yes, well, let’s get on it with it.” 

This time she was prepared, and felt herself relax after the initial bite. It was almost pleasant, hearing the rush of her own blood and the echo of her heartbeat, as Astarion suckled at her wrist and made a small noise of pleasure. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back, the setting sun was still warm on her face. This was peaceful, so little in her life had been peaceful, she could stay here forever. 

“Serafina…” A voice roused her and her eyelids opened sluggishly. 

Astarion held her wrist in his hands still, but the wounds from his fangs were already closing. “Look at the state of you. Let’s get you back to camp and get some food in you, before anyone accuses me of anything.” 

She laughed, feeling woozy and giddy. “But this is your fault. Or should I say I met another vampire down by the river?” It was incredibly dumb and she cringed even as the words left her lips 

Astarion only sighed in response and helped her to her feet, hands encircling her waist in an oddly comforting manner. “I don’t quite think they’ll believe that.” He offered her his arm as they headed back to camp and she found herself loath to let go when she was safely settled by the newly built fire. 

She should have known she was already in far too deep right then. 

Nestled in his arms, she let him drink as much as he wanted, assured he knew when to stop, and trusting he always would. A soft moan inadvertently escaped her and she flushed like so many of those early days. 

Astarion chuckled as he withdrew his fangs. “You certainly do enjoy that,” he teased. 

“The experience has grown on me since that first time.” 

Astarion stiffened at her words, letting go of her waist. “We should probably finish getting settled.” 

Her heart tremored in her chest; it had been one of his better moods of the last couple of weeks, and it was very quickly ebbing away. “Probably,” she relented, not knowing what to say. It felt like she’d tried everything lately, and a familiar weariness settled over her. Time, it was just going to take time. 

Not letting a looming sigh escape her, she leaned over to finish settling the bedroll. 

With what little they had to call their own, arranging it didn’t take long, and a short time later found them lounging near the water in Shadowheart’s once secret spot. The smell of night orchids was almost cloyingly thick as Sera tried to concentrate on the book propped in front of her as she lay on her stomach. 

It was sometime after midnight but not yet near enough dawn for her to sleep if she was going to get used to living nocturnally. A yawn inadvertently slipped from her and the sound of Astarion idly trailing his fingers through the softly moving current stopped

“You can just go to bed, you know. One night hardly makes a difference.” 

He’d moved from where he’d sat originally - further away from her, down by the bank. At first picking at the mushrooms and then fidgeting about in the water, his own book long abandoned. He’d sneak out to hunt, animal or opportunistic criminal, but he didn’t like staying out too long with everyone in the city still jumpy. 

“If you say it every night, it will.” Stretching, she got to her feet, already moving to his side. 

He scoffed at her words and looked back toward the water as she dropped down next to him. 

“What is it?” Despite his prickly mood, she let her head rest on his shoulder, knowing he would rather have her close than not. Under the cloying scent of the night orchids, the familiar sickly sweet essence of the grave clung to his skin. Something different was on his mind than what had been plaguing him the last few weeks. 

“Noth-”

“You’re a shit liar, Astarion.” 

That got a short, sharp laugh from him. “Firsts,” he finally said, quietly. 

“Firsts?” she repeated, lost.

“You mentioned the first time I drank your blood.” He finally looked up but still not at her, gazing at the ceiling of the cavern instead. “It was a disaster. You remember, you had to fight me off you.” He chuckled a bit, but there was something deeply pained in it. 

“It was the first time you’d drank thinking blood. And we didn’t know it could mean something to us.” 

“I ruined it, I ruined all of our firsts. Our first meeting - I held a knife to your throat, our first kiss - a lie to get you to come out into the woods with me, our first night together - part of my ‘nice, simple plan’.” While he was talking, she let her arm wrap around his waist, pulling them as close together as she could. “Sometimes I wish I could have them back, I wish I could actually remember what you looked like walking down that road toward me.” 

She considered his words for a moment, struck by how it all seemed to weigh on him. “But they’re… ours. And perfect or not, they still led us here.” 

“I should have counted on that irritatingly romantic response from you,” he said, without any real malice. 

“It's the only response.” For a moment the weariness at everything slipped through. “We can't go back.”

Astarion hummed thoughtfully and brought his arm up to return her embrace. “Perhaps you're right, love.” Gently, he guided them both to laying back on the ground. 

Sera kissed him softly, brushing her lips to his and then his cheeks and forehead. They'd get through one more night at least. “Of course I'm right, and we still have firsts. For example, this is our first night in a Shar temple without everything trying to kill us.” 

Astarion laughed, real and genuine, fangs gleaming in the flickering light of their lantern. “I'll wait until sunrise to call that official.” His fingers ran gently through her hair and she shut her eyes, basking in his touch “But let's get you to bed, Sera, you look so tired, it worries me.” 

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The Bigger Person

Spawn!Astarion Ancunin x Redeemed Dark Urge!Reader

summary: after saving Baldur’s Gate, Astarion and his partner descend into the Underdark to take care of Cazador’s misdeeds. All seven thousands of them. Was it something the elf truly wanted to do with his freedom?

spoilers for Act 3/Pale Elf and Epilogue

warnings & contents: teethy fluff; established relationship; comfort, sass, and class; hints of existential crisis; the reader could be any gender; mentions of trauma; some hugs; assumed drow or half-drow background of the reader but could be any race

a/n: I am kinda terrified of writing for Astarion as I respect Larian’s work SO MUCH (so Larian, please forgive me, if I ever do this goofy dagger-happy love wrong). This blurb came out of nowhere as I was bored during my long ass flight. As always, proceed at your own risk. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

soundtrack: miley cyrus — used to be young

***

You watched Astarion from afar as elf was basking in the azure light of a Sussur tree. His pale skin glowing, eyes half-lidded—one of, if not the most beautiful sight you’ve seen in your entire life. Radiance of a Sussur flower might have been the closest thing to the sunlight the vampire spawn had now, after the ever-protecting tadpole was gone.

It was barely a couple of weeks since the Netherbrain crushed into the Chionthar. The exhausting journey was finally over. Your thoughts for a moment went to Gale—how was he fairing now, taking into account his condition? And what any of you was supposed to do with your lives now, after saving the world?

You shook off your guessings by and by—only to notice that it was Astarion’s turn to stare at you. His smooth lips curved into a mischievous grin.

“My once murderous little love, what were you daydreaming of?” The man wondered as he stepped towards you, stretching out a hand for you to touch, inviting you to feel the soothing coldness of his forever-young skin. The elf tilted his head a bit, curiously; studying you.

“You seemed… far from here.” Although his tone was lighthearted, you could see concern in the wandering gaze of garnet eyes. After all these weeks traveling—and now living— together, you could read him quite well.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled before coming to your senses; a gentle, slightly teasing smile appearing on your face. “I was stalking you, actually. You fit quite well with the Underdark, you know.”

Astarion didn’t seem to object your observations.

Obviously.

“Well,” he gestured abstractly, pretending not to care, although he cared quite a bit. “You don’t say, my sweet. Although I'd assume that my features should look aesthetically pleasing in most of the attention worthy places.”

You couldn’t keep a straight face as you laughed, enjoying his lazy attempts to hide a proud smile.

“Behave, Astarion. There are kids in the close vicinity, after all.”

The man changed in the face and let out a soft groan. “Seven thousand of them,” he muttered with slight annoyance in his voice.

Despite grimaces Astarion made regularly, you could see him enjoying it—taking care of the murderous horde of vampire spawns to whom the elf showed mercy in the palace. He was their mentor, their leader now—a counterpart to what Cazador was, the monster that created them all. Now so much better than him.

“I blame you,” Astarion continued in the meantime, playfully pointing a finger in your direction. “That’s all your nasty influence. Be the bigger person, dear!..” he passionately—and painfully accurately—mimicked your tone of voice while saying the last piece. You, though, weren’t offended in the slightest. You liked him even more when he dared to show the silly side of his complex, wounded personality.

You felt his hand crawling around your waist as he huffed next to your ear shortly after. “Why should I be a bigger person, darling, when I can be happy and petty?”

You snorted. “I don’t think you’re holding back on pettiness, love.”

His smile stretched across the skin of your neck in a silent, although eloquent enough reply. None of you said a thing for quite a while, staying motionless close to each other with heads buried deep into your own thoughts.

“Thank you.” You blurted out eventually.

Astarion shifted, looking into your face with his eyebrow raised. He was visibly confused.

“Thank you for choosing this. Choosing them.” you continued as you met his gaze with yours. “Instead of your… freedom.” You struggled to find a better word for that.

Astarion didn’t seem to be convinced; didn’t seem to follow at first. “I’m free,” he replied gravely. “The bastard is dead.”

You shook your head slightly. “You could’ve been anywhere. Doing anything,” you retorted with care. “But you’re here instead.”

His facial features softened as he understood why you were saying what you were saying. There was a pinch of truth in your words—he spent some time thinking about it, too, after you’ve both descended into the Underdark and began building this fort; the safe harbor for Cazador’s cursed—as although perpetually hungry vampire spawns now, these people deserved to have a place to call home, no matter how dangerous or uncivilised per human standards it was.

You heard Astarion letting out a reluctant sigh as he came to terms with his own decision once more.

“This was the right thing to do.” The elf concluded at once.

Mild aversion to his own heroism that manifested itself in his whole appearance in that particular moment made you giggle suddenly.

“My, my. Who thought you'd be up for doing The Right Thing the first time we met.”

The elf gave you a friendly, tad fiendish stare as he rolled his eyes, and you scoffed as he spoke. “Not that you were a paragon of virtuousness back then either, being your daddy’s scion.” You made an unamused face that made him smile.

Astarion reassured you then with playful seriousness, letting his lips and teeth slide affectionately to your neck. “Don’t keep your hopes up, darling. Now my quota of the rightful deeds is fulfilled for the upcoming century.”

You smirked as you locked him into a hug, not believing a single word of what that man just said as you felt him hugging you back.

[avocado-writing]

Ohhhh my lord I would DIE for some sort of AU where Astarion had a lover/partner before he was turned by Cazador???

And maybe he finds you visiting his grave after being freed from the tadpole or something and mentally debating whether to go to you or stay hidden bc he’s insecure about being a vampire?

Idk I’ve just been thinking about this randomly and the angst would be so goooood

Love Love Love your work Avo 💚💚💚

notes: sorry for this I swear I’ll write something happy next.

pairing: astarion x reader.

warnings: hurt, no comfort

rating: T

He dies and leaves you broken.

At least, you think he does. There is no way for him to come to you through those first few years, when Cazador keeps him imprisoned alone and half-crazed with starvation, sucking the innards out of rats until their desiccated husks are his only company. Eventually he manages to endear himself to his master enough that he is allowed out of the palace, though that is only to bring food back in the form of the unsuspecting nobles of Baldur’s Gate.

It is a miserable existence. He hates his body, hates himself, and as Cazador forces him to seduce people back, using his own beauty as bait, the soft nights he spent with you are all that keeps him sane.

Your memory is a light in the darkness of his new life.

On the fifth anniversary of his death, the first chance he has since he was turned, he cannot help but go and visit his grave. Call him maudlin, but he wonders if it has yet fallen into disrepair. As a magistrate he was hardly the most popular man in the city, and now everyone thinks he’s long gone…

He does not find it empty. He finds a sobbing figure next to the headstone.

You are just as lovely as he remembers, though your face is stained with tears. You grieve as if he died yesterday and not several years past. Your fingers carefully caress the engraving of his name, the way you used to trace them over his cheekbones, his lips.

It is a punch to the gut.

“Why did you have to leave me…” you choke, gripping the grass so hard you tear it from the ground.

He wants to hold you in his arms. To tell you that he is here, that death didn’t take him. He wants to remember what it feels like to touch you, really touch you, not just live by an echo of it in his memory. 

But he can’t, because he is a monster. A creature which belongs to the night. You would not want him now, would you? You’re a thing of beating blood and soft flesh and breathed air and life. He simply cannot anchor you to this thing which he has become and drag you down too.

That would just kill him all over again.

Wordlessly, he leaves you to mourn.

He comes back every year, to that little corner of the graveyard. You still cry but as time moves on, it is less, and eventually you make it through a whole visit without shedding a tear. You wax poetic about your favourite memories of him: quiet meals spent together, days when you never left bed, private in-jokes he thinks you would have forgotten by now. He listens to you talk from the shadows. 

It is the one thing he has to look forward to all year.

Then you start bringing company.

Your partner holds your hand tightly, and Astarion seethes from the darkness as you tell them about all him, about the pale elf you used to love. They listen as you fondly recount stories of your time together, and Astarion is torn: you no longer sound hurt like you once did, like the grief is a constant companion as you stumble on through life; but he is bitter. You were his. And now your hand easily links through the fingers of another.

He considers attacking you both. Biting you, trying to turn you. Killing your new paramour and having their bastard blood quench his unholy thirst.

But then you laugh, really laugh, tipping your head back in mirth at something they said, and leaning up against them. The way you used to with him.

How can a dead heart break?

He leaves.

The next year, when the two of you visit, you have matching rings on your fingers.

The year after that, you do not come to his grave at all. He wonders if you have finally forgotten about him. He tries to swallow this fact and move on, but what does he have to move on to? More misery. More loneliness. More Cazador.

The year after he finds you there, once again, and he feels the first twinge of joy in gods know how long –

“We had a baby, Astarion,” you say to the cold stone in front of you, carefully clearing off the moss which has attempted to take it over. “A little boy. He’s so precious… I know you never really liked children, but I hope you’d be pleased for me. I miss you, my darling, but I’m finally happy.”

He never visits his grave again.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate@dhampling

[alpydk]

A Reminder

I said no oneshots, but I'm having a day. Hesitant in posting this, might delete later.

TavxGale (FtM/M) - Summary - Tav gets a difficult reminder after the defeat of the Netherbrain.

Word Count - 1464 words - CW - TransTav, Periods, Identity issues, Angst and Comfort

Tav sat upon the docks of the Chionthar, knees bent into his chest, his tufted red hair caught in the sea breeze, his body tense with each gust of wind which touched his skin. The battle had been won, the Netherbrain defeated, the tadpoles destroyed, and yet Tav’s happiness was mixed. His body ached for the first time in months, a deep wave of pain emerging up once again that caused him to lean into his legs further. No tears would be shed. He made sure of that with his eyes fixed on the horizon, his thoughts going over anything else but what was bothering him.

Four months… that’s how long he’d had in peaceful ignorant bliss, traversing the lands with a smile on his face. He could have died at any moment to the tadpoles, to the cultists, to the Avatar of Myrkul and yet it hadn’t been a bother because at least he would have died feeling complete, just as he wished.   

The wooden boards creaked with the approach of Gale, tentative steps already sensing something wasn’t quite right. Tav’s pale appearance, the way he was sitting; it was something Gale was all too familiar with. He placed a hand gently on the shoulder in front of him, only to have Tav bristle and slide away from beneath it. Gale was unsure if he should sit down, should have Tav discuss any current ailments, and so he remained standing, waiting to be guided.

Tav lifted his head slightly. “I thought you would have gone back to the Tavern by now. Isn’t there some celebratory party?”

“And abandon my love on the docks?”

His hidden smile did not go amiss, the words bringing some peace. “Join me then, at least. I don’t particularly feel like being amongst people right now.”

Sitting beside him, Gale looked over the way the smile changed to a grimace of pain. “Are you injured?”

Had Tav been so obvious to display his moment of weakness as he’d let his guard down? That’s not how it was meant to be. He was supposed to be strong, brave. Pain was nothing but a reminder of being alive. It was not a reminder of what he longed to escape. His shoulders tensed as a hand was placed down on his leather armour. Gale couldn’t touch him, not when he was like this, not as reality forced itself down upon him.

“Not injured.”

“Is it, then, perhaps something I could assist with?”

Tav wanted to lie to him, in some ways wanted to go back to where they’d been a week ago, walking the precipice between life and death, but he knew he couldn’t hide the truth now. He certainly couldn’t get away with nights of astral bonding now that the battle had been won and their love declared so openly. Gale instead would want more. He’d want all Tav’s mind, soul, but most of all, body.

“I hate myself.”

Gale was taken aback by the words spoken so harshly, coldly. They weren’t just the lingering self-doubts he’d held in his own mind; they were more, a certainty and belief. “You can’t mean that, surely? Look at all you have recently achieved: the lives that will forever be indebted to you thanks to all you sacrificed, a city saved from a most certain demise, a man saved from a destined oblivion.”

The words clung on to Tav, a truth he didn’t wish to hear. He wanted to wallow, wanted to fall into the pit that lay before him and lie there until the shadows had passed, but Gale wouldn’t let him. The words brought both comfort and hurt. Show no weakness, no emotion, no pain; that was the mantra for too long and it was how it was going to remain.

“Tav, speak to me, I beg of you. Tell me what has stirred such darkness within you.”

Darkness, that is how it felt. That no matter what Tav did or how much he wished it, there was no escape from what he was. And it hurt, mentally and physically, it hurt. “You’d love me if I was a worm, wouldn’t you?”

Gale let out a chuckle, thankful for the odd question. “A worm? Well, yes, I suppose I would. I’ve even heard the Underdark will be particularly safe, if it’s a Purple Worm you plan on becoming.”

“And would you still love me if I was not as I appeared to be?”

“Because loving a worm is not enough to show my devotion to you?”

“Humour me.”  

He considered the situation briefly, not so much that he held doubts, but more as he tried to piece together what Tav was getting at. “I’d love you if you were worm, mindflayer, or even one of Wyll’s sweat ridden socks.”

“Surely that is too far.”

“Not for you, my dear.” Gale smiled, noticing the brief change in Tav’s attitude, his body opening as he relaxed with the response. “Is this all just a moment of self-doubt brought on by our victory, a worry that I will leave now that we have no use for one another? Because let me assure you, I need you like one needs air to breathe, but most of all, I do love you. Do not doubt that.”

Nodding, Tav let out a long sigh of relief. The pain in his body radiated out once again, and he could not help but close his eyes as he let it pass by. The gentle squeeze of the warm hand upon his arm was more welcome this time as it brought a comfort easing the pain his body was tormenting him with and a hope that maybe the truth would be accepted. “My…” He didn’t want to admit this, as if saying it would destroy the person he was, as if he’d be forced to acknowledge that everything he’d built was one big lie to feel special, to be unique. It was bad enough to have had his writing critiqued: too feminine, too stereotyped, not representative enough. His looks: too many curves, hair too long, too short, too much makeup, not enough makeup. Everyone questioning who he was unless it fit their own narrative. Why did it all matter so much to everyone? Why couldn’t he just be who he wanted to be?

“Your?”

The words were blurted out before further hesitation could drown them. “My period started.”

“But you’re not a teacher.”

Tav glared at Gale. How could someone so smart have such blatant moments of being so dense?

It was then that he caught on to the reality of what was being said, his eyes widening. “Oh, oh…”

“Yeah…”

Gale turned the revelation over in his head, trying to work out if it had changed anything, trying to find the correct solution to the problem as he always did. “You never mentioned…”

“I guess I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me? How could you ever think that possible?”

“It’s just, you believed I was… and now it’s clear…”

“My love.” Gale brought the hand up to rest on Tav’s cheek, a gentle stroke with his thumb as he gazed into the eyes before him. “I did not fall in love with you for the body you have or wish to have. I fell in love with your spirit, your zest for life, your poet’s heart, the way you saw candlelight before noticing dancing shadows.”

“But this is me, my identity…”

He nodded, acknowledging how important the situation was. “Hm. Then let me aid you, so that one day I might again see the smile of your true self, just as I did that night at Moonrise. Let me love you, as you are and will be.”

Tav leant into the touch upon his face, hearing the words, forgetting the pain that ached within, for once feeling he had been believed and accepted. There was little he could say as the emotions stuck in his throat, as his eyes became moistened by the tears he’d trained himself not to shed. His body’s mutiny may have been a reminder, but it did not change who he was and all he had overcome to reach that point. All he needed was time, as if he were a larvae mid transformation, waiting to burst forth from his cocoon with grand rainbow wings spread, reflecting the sun’s rays.

They spent some time in silence together as the sun set over the docks and the stars appeared, bringing a calm to the blackened sky around them. Reaching an arm around Tav’s shoulder and pulling him close, Gale whispered the words that he felt mattered most. “No matter where you are on your journey, I’ll be with you, Tav. I see you. I love you.”

[changingplumbob]

CW: Low level sim spice - Guide to content warnings

Glenn: I'm sorry I'm not a werewolf that can get you pregnant

Silver: Yeah well it's good you're not because I love you just the way you are. Even if you distract me when I'm trying to plan

Glenn: Oh you mean like this

Glenn reached over and knocked the papers off the bed. While Silver was shocked he grabbed the pen and threw it in one of his planters for good measure.

Silver: Hey! I was using that

Glenn: Come use me instead

Glenn grabbed Silver's wrists and rolled on to his back, pulling the larger man on top of him. He knew if Silver didn't want to partake in any woohoo shenanigans he wouldn't have been able to move him so he took it as a good sign.

Silver: Why are you being so annoying today

Glenn: Because... I want you

Silver: You should have let me finish my list first

Glenn: Oh please we both know for you to be happy that pros and cons list is going to take days

Silver: And If it does? You should learn to wait

Glenn: And then you'll want to have visits to the top choices before you decide and I'll be left here in agony because you won't-

Silver bent down and kissed him. For a while they stayed just like that, Silver pinning Glenn down and kissing him while he let his hand trace the spellcasters abs.

Silver sat back up and Glenn pouted.

Silver: What am I going to do with you Babycakes? You just won't let me work

Glenn: I have some ideas of what you could do. Read my mind

Silver raised an eyebrow and stared down at Glenn. Yes he could guess what he was thinking about but where was the fun in getting straight to it? If he placated Glenn fully he'd likely be able to work on the list afterwards and he really wanted to figure out the top few moving choices.

Silver: I can't read your mind, I'm not an alien

Glenn: Well I was thinking... I know I can't get you pregnant but what if we pretended?

Silver: Pretended huh?

Glenn: Mmhmm

Silver leaned down, bracing himself with his left arm beside Glenn and letting his right hand trace the patterns of one of Glenn's many flower shirts.

Silver: I don't know, do you really deserve to get me pregnant after your brat act today

Glenn: You could teach me a lesson? I know we've not done it much but you're great when you get in power bottom mode. Wait, do you know what that is?

Silver: *chuckles* If you want me to ride you just say it. But you should know *kisses* I will have you apologising for your misbehaviour before I'm finished

Glenn: Oh, you're talking the talk there Beefcake but I'm not going to cave and apologise

If that wasn't famous last words... Silver absolutely got Glenn's apology. When they were finished and Glenn went to shower Silver was able to collect the papers off the floor and get back to his list. They'd been together long enough that Silver estimated Glenn would need at least an hour in there, perfect for him to focus out here.

The list did take several days. It was incredibly long but a lot of the places had more cons than pros so they were discarded as options. In the end they narrowed their choices down to either somewhere in Glimmerbrook or the Windslar neighbourhood of Windenburg.

Glenn: You sure you don't want to live in Henford

Silver: I mean being close to Grayson and his kids could be nice but I do want somewhere we can just escape the rest of the world

Glenn: But our friends can come visit right

Silver: Yeah. I'm surprised they tolerate me though

Glenn: What's not to love about you? Oh come on froggies! I nearly had that one

Silver: I guess that one doesn't want to make tadpoles for your collection

Glenn: Clearly. What were we talking about? Oh yeah well Henri likes that you know old stuff, and that you're always feeding me because he knows I'm a glutton. Miranda likes that you're trying to learn how to use technology and Ophelia...

Silver: Is Ophelia. She doesn't seem to dislike anyone despite the hell her life was. I admire that about her

Glenn: And what about me

Silver: *smirking* Are you fishing for compliments Babycakes

Glenn: Only from you

Silver: Well you're the best catch I've ever made

Glenn: Awww. I love you to Beefcake

Previous ... Next

[des-no9]

I'm going on Anon because i'm a bit shy about this but, I've seen a lot of Githyanki official art and fan made stuff and i was wondering if Githyanki can be fat? I supposed that since its a warrior race genetically engineered (twice!) to fight that they probably wouldn't have a high fat to body mass ratio However i *really* wanna make a fat githyanki oc Is there a way i can justify it in universe? Thank you!!!

Hey anon and thank you so much for messaging me about this. I'm so touched and happy to answer this!

I wanted to preface this first of all with:

you never need a reason to make, or have, a character fat. They just can be!! Because you want them to!! Fat isn't a bad word, just a descriptor. And I hope after this you can happily make a wonderful, gorgeous fat githyanki character who I can't wait to see!

-------

Okay. Now, moving on to lore and narratives and in universe reasons - it can absolutely be done.

As a detail orientated writer, I am a stickler for: consistency believability (doesn't have to be REAL or something 1:1 from our world just believable IN world etc)

NOTE: D&D has many different versions and inconsistences in lore, and my narrative consolidates in the BG3 5e verse, while taking parts from older versions I like and fitting them to make sense in my verse that I'm creating and expanding from BG3.

Much ramblings and answers under the cut :3 enjoy

TW: talk about bodies, fatphobia (kinda), genetic engineering

Okay so, we know at least in all verses that githyanki were genetically engineered twice (illithids first, then Vlaakith(s) with the change to eggs, and streamlining their race to become superior, powerful etc), and their race as has been documented and described by others in universe, and in source books, is tall, thin, long limbs, bony, and they seem in similar strucuture to illithids.

This makes a lot of sense in the way that the illithids were probably breeding them to become perfect hosts for their tadpoles and ceremorphosis, from what they see their bodies turn into. And we know that illithids have specific body types they seek out for their own perfection, whether we like it or not.

Vanquish is fat. It doesn't hinder her whatsoever. In-fact Voss is drawn to her a lot because of it and finds such beauty in her fatness and the softness of her skin. This does allude to fatness not being common in githyanki and something he likes about istik and her. And yeah, you can make it uncommon in githyanki! That's fine! But it still CAN happen in githyanki.

So for lore reasons to have a fat githyanki character I think there are many ways you could easily do it:

1: Independent githyanki. This githyanki could have, for example, been raised by non-githyanki, and therefore has not had a life subjected to their stringent training, diet, routine etc, and eventual life between Material and Astral which would and does effect things like their digestive system. Having their body adjusted from birth to a different environment could start to alter their body's stubborn pre-disposition to a low body fat %. Also, not constantly living in a kind of hypervigilance and violence the githyanki seem to live in may just let the body relax.

2: Different creches and planes Coming a little from the above idea - and from my genitals HC about variance in their bodies - I think that their can be and IS differences in their bodies depending on the creche they were born in, and also plane.

For example, being nearer to void magic, in a volatile climate, low gravity, colder climate etc. For a githyanki growing up in a colder climate, having more body fat would be better for them (if we take into account OUR biology, but they are aliens and their bodies probably work differently to ours. For instance they are SO strong even being so very thin dkfjdf etc). But honestly, it doesn't matter the reasoning. Some creches could just give variance in body type because they CAN and this is magic and magic does shit like this and for the past hundreds and thousands of years this is how the bodies of githyanki from Creche An'vak are, like the ears from those from Creche Ishk often split at the end.

They just are.

3: Genetic anomaly If you like the theory that their low body fat and frame is deeply bred and genetically engineered etc into them, this works. Because genetic anomalies happen all the time, so githyanki being born and retaining body fat and getting fat, much fatter than we see them as, could definitely just happen.

Depending on how cruel you view the githyanki as a whole, or that particular creche, or even if that githyanki wasn't raised in a creche etc (lots of possibilities), once the varsh sees that their body is developing different to how they 'should' be, then they may be discarded as a liability, or you can work many different and creative narrative ways into how and why they survive. (For example, once they see that their body doesn't hinder their ability to fight, then why dispose of them?)

I'm sure there are many, many other ways I'm not thinking about, but these are some of the main ways that I would probably write about and would come up in my narratives.

4: Wild Card! Githyanki/istik child. This also raises several other complciations and questions of how githyanki and other races could reproduce (that's for another huge post LOL) but, since in the future Vanquish and Orpheus have a kid (an heir, technically) it would be remiss of me to not mention this. And well, a mixed githyanki kid, too, could be fat!

Also, depending on the part of their timeline I'm writing in (for example, during their enslavement, directly after, now) the reasoning and frequency of fat githyanki can be different to me in the narrative.

I hope this helped a lot, anon. If you have any more questions or want to ask anything else, please, please let me know! This was a LOT of fun to write. Thank you! x