#Way is still drowing his sorrow

[miss0atae]

It's Friday and of course it is Pit Babe the series random thoughts for ep 11!

▪️So we finally learnt what was the big plan of Charlie and how it happened. Basically Charlie thought he was Juliet (from Romeo and Juliet. Same plot, different ending) and pretended to be dead but also he had a shot of a drug that is supposed to temporarily remove or suppress his ability. He is staying with "Uncle Reval", a man, Jeff met when he escaped Tony's house for the first time. This guy is helping Jeff and Charlie and is also the one who got them the "potion". I didn't have to watch the next trailer to know it was Babe's dad because the story is really giving you a lot of hits. Of course, Charlie is really worried about Babe and how he deals with his supposed death but he still has to hide. No one will make me change my mind about the fact it's not a brilliant plan. I appreciate Charlie a lot but he is the worst at making any plans.

▪️Finally Alan and Jeff shippers can be happy because our two boys admitted their feelings, got together (even if Jeff was scared because of his powers) and even had a sexy time. We were very patient. I'm glad they are finally together and hope they won't face anymore problems. I wish them a blissful relationship full of love. I have been rooting for them since the beginning.

▪️Way is still drinking most of the time during the episode and he is really pitiful. However, it seems his redemption arc is coming. Let's see how they deal with that. I have to admit Nut is also a pretty crier, just like Pavel. They really choose the right actor for this role.

▪️It also seems like viewers were right when they say there was a tension between Kenta and Pete. Kenta had feelings for Pete. In some ways, Kenta is just like Way. They both think Tony is right and they both want to be recognized by the sole fatherly figure they have in their life. Unfortunately, Tony isn't a good father and his actions are terrible. To be loved and appreciated can be quite hard. If you've been deprived of it for a long time, you may be ready to do anything to get it. Way and Kenta are doing very questionable actions to just be loved. It is very sad. Kenta believes he has to follow Tony's orders and it drew Pete and him apart. I wanted Kim and Kenta to be together but now that I know Pete and Kenta's past, I feel sad they will never be able to be together as a romantic couple.

▪️We got a few scenes with Babe who is still trying to avenge Charlie's death. We will probably see him more in the next episode.

▪️North and Sonic still provided terrible advice to Alan when he was trying to win Jeff's heart but at least they are bubbly and cute while also providing some comedic relief.

▪️I saw Kim once! 🥹 It is not enough but a small win is still a win.

Let's see what will happen next Friday. Pit Babe is still being really fun to watch.

[spacebarbarianweird]

I haven't seen much of Astarion n Elf!Tav, so I was wondering what you would think about them together 🤔

Hi! I've got so many requests for headcanons I really felt like I couldn't decide which one to take next so I asked my subscribers to choose the race for me.

The most voted for Elf! Tav. Since I have separate requests for Drows and Wood Elves, this one is going to be about High Elves.

Hope you will enjoy it!

Astarion x High Elf!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

You are young by Elven standards, still many years from receiving your adult name.

But you already have a lot of life experience - and there is sorrow in your eyes since many of your friends are already too old to accompany you.

And you know sooner or later you will be able to share company only among ones of your kind since the world will change too fast for you to grasp it.

You fall in love with Astarion at first sight. He is your Thiramin, a soulmate, a forever love.

Maybe you were together in your past reincarnations. Or in your past life, you met him as a mortal.

Or it's something new for both of you.

Astarion shrugs this idea away. He doesn't have a soul. He will never see his past lives in his dreams when he gets older (because he will never age), he won't reincarnate when he dies (because he is already dead). There is nothing, only the existence of the undead.

To have a Thiramin you also need to have a soul.

Which he doesn't.

But he still loves you. You are the first person he cares and loves. And unless you don't want him in your life, he won't go away

He also has come to terms with your mortality.

First, you will be around for many centuries. He has at least six hundred years together with you or even more.

Second, you will come back. Not right away, but you will. You will come to him, in your new body, and he will recognize you the same way older elves recognize their long-dead friends in children.

Post-game, you travel. Elven wanderlust takes you places - other continents and planes. Halrua, Kara-Tur, the Vilhon Reach, the Sea of Stars. Sometimes you settle for a bit, but never longer than a decade or two.

You speak Elven to each other. Astarion feels safe speaking his mother tongue to you.

You call each other "Salen Aester" and "Salen Thiramin": my love and my soul.

He likes teasing your ears, caressing and love-biting them.

You do the same to him, though, he wasn't comfortable at first.

But you just made him sit in front of you and allowed him to touch your ears while copying his movements.

He ended up a crying mess.

You also decide to spend some time searching for his family though it's difficult since he doesn't remember anything about his past life.

His surname is though of an Elven origin ("The one who learns by hand") sounds unfamiliar to most Elves you meet.

And Astarion is hesitant about searching for his past life.

"Whatever it was, I don't want it. I want the future. With you."

Once you turn 110 years, you return home to get the adult name.

And marry Astarion.

It's difficult for the elders to accept Astarion - a vampire, an undead, a person with no family or kin. 

But they do.

It's a sin to separate Thiramins, after all.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

How Halsin’s “once you get to my age” conversation not long after he finally recruited as a party member SHOULD have gone if you were an elf and could call him out on not being old.

Because as a drow my Tav should be allowed to call him out and tease him over it

(My Tav, but written pretty generically and without any gender indicators for Tav so knock yourself out)

————————

“You didn’t answer the part about lovers” you say as you fold your arms. Halsin held a certain level of fascination to you. Maybe it was his sheer size, maybe it was his confidence, or his willingness to just listen. Maybe it was because you truly could not get a read on him.

He had been frustratingly dodging most questions about himself until now, softly smiling and telling you ‘there will be time for questions later. I must keep my focus on the task at hand’ and now somehow managed to tell you an incredible amount and nothing at all at the same time.

“I’m 350 years old. Of course there have been lovers. Just because I love nature doesn’t mean I’m betrothed to it. Though sometimes, nature needs reminding…” he trailed off.

Another redirection, talks of the past while not acknowledging that the question was about the current and offering an interesting tidbit instead. You recognized what he was trying to do, but unfortunately his smirk while speaking about nature alluded to an all too good to pass up story.

“Hold on- nature needs reminding of what exactly?” you ask.

“Well, I didn’t pick this scar up in battle. I was in wildshape, only I forgot it was the season when bears are particularly social. A she-bear claimed me as her own- and did not appreciate being spurned” he said.

Less riveting than you hoped, but still interesting. And certainly not enough to convince you to drop the question.

“Don’t leave me hanging- is there someone in your life right now?” Simple. Direct. Surely no way to dodge it again.

“Right now? I bed down alone, I’m afraid” he answers. There’s a small drop in his voice, not sorrow, but, disappointment?“Perhaps once I talk less of curses and parasites, my fortunes will improve”.

It was not quite the answer you were expecting. A clear answer this time, but something in the way his words hung in the air felt off.

You look over his face, searching for some glimmer of information but are met with the same relaxed but stoic expression he used when he was done talking about a subject.

“Tell me something about yourself that I wouldn’t even think to ask” you change the subject, hoping to find any bit of interesting information from him.

“Hmm, I suppose you wouldn’t be shocked to learn I love animals and nature? I know, I know; well-trodden territory. Well, let’s see… I whittle in my spare time, and I’ve something of a sweet tooth- though everyone’s very amused when I say I like honey”.

A smile plays on your lips, you genuinely could not tell if he was avoiding saying much and choosing to give you obvious answers purposefully or not.

“Whittling? What do you make?” you ask, fishing for anything you could.

“Ornaments, utensils- and ducks. I like ducks”.

New information gained and yet nothing new truly learned.

“So you turn into a bear and you like honey?” you repeat back to him, “A little on the nose”.

“I like what I like. Once you get to my age you realize there’s little point in denying yourself, so long as other’s aren’t affected” Halsin replies.

“Your age?” you laugh, in the grand scheme of elven lives Halsin was young still, only a few decades older than yourself despite speaking as if he was at least 800. “And how old do you think I am?”

Halsin flashed a quick smile, brief but betraying a lot of emotion. The sort guilty smile you offer when you’re caught.

“My apologies. I don’t encounter too many full elves these days” his face relaxes, not his usual careful composure, but a true relaxation. “No, I supposed 350 is young still, and sometimes I need reminding of that too. You get used to seeing life on the scale that the others see. People treat you as old and you start to believe it, or at least you let them make their assumptions about you”.

“So ‘old, wise Halsin’ is an act?” you tease.

“I am wise!” he laughs, a truly deep laugh that rumbled from his chest. A laugh that spreads into a sense of warmth within you. “If I wasn’t then you wouldn’t have come to my grove seeking my knowledge and skills!”

“I was told to seek out the old, wise archdruid of the the grove and imagine my surprise seeing an elf, only decades older than myself acting as if he was as least twice his age!” You laughed back, unable to keep his laughter from spreading to you. “Though I suppose I can keep quiet and let you continue this front, if you can keep up with me, old man, because I very much so am still young” you tease.

“You’ll find I’m more than able to keep up with anything you’ve got, don’t let me fool you into thinking my size is just for show. I think you’ll find I’m more than capable of going all day and night” the tone that crept into his voice let you know that he very much knew why you were asking if he currently had a lover earlier.

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 4: After Encountering Araj

Chapter 4: After Encountering Araj

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 2, Canon-typical violence, cw: Astarion's past, Feelings Realization

WC: 3k words, 4/18 chapters

Summary: Set in Act 2 after infiltrating Moonrise and meeting Araj, a retelling of the Act 2 romance with some extra dialogue. The canon-hug!

Ao3 | [Hug3][Hug5] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

Your team is tired. It’s been several days of travel through the Cursed Shadowlands, and you, for one, can’t wait for this damned curse to be lifted. You’ve done all you can with Halsin’s help, all that’s left is to defeat Ketheric. The man’s demise can’t come swiftly enough, especially after you had the absolute honor of meeting him yesterday.

Infiltrating Moonrise Towers was surprisingly easy for your group. You simply said you belonged there and everyone seemed to trust you, all because of the worm that takes residence in your skull. It probably helped that it was a short visit: free some prisoners, meet Ketheric, scope out the location, run into a slew of its inhabitants and leave as soon as you get the information you need.

There were a few moments of awkwardness in your adventure. You told off a disgusting drow woman who made Astarion uncomfortable, a cat insulted you and your hunting, and a half-orc was utterly entranced by your lust filled thoughts of Astarion. And that was all in the span of a few hours.

It’s no wonder that today’s been a bit calmer for you all. Your team is on the outskirts of the towers, searching the remains of its previously bustling settlement. However, being out of the lion’s den doesn’t mean you feel any less tense today.

Astarion has been oddly distant since you left Moonrise yesterday. You can’t help but worry for him, knowing that he takes to sulking alone at times. Perhaps the tower was a reminder of bad memories? Maybe the reality of your situation was just too much right now.

Either way, you know that it’s you that needs to get to the bottom of it, as he keeps sneaking glances your way. Each time you catch him looking, his gaze darts away and his brow furrows as he stares at the ground. It might be comical if it didn’t instill a deep concern in you.

Honestly, you’d ask him what was wrong here and now if it weren’t for your companions, Shadowheart and Karlach. They have certainly noticed something amiss, Astarion is almost never without a quick quip, but they decide not to acknowledge it. Despite his occasional bravado, he’s a private person, and it wouldn’t do to corner him as a group.

And so, the rest of your day is spent in an awkward silence, somehow amplified by the eerie stillness surrounding you. You decide to search through the Mason’s Guild, hoping for a palette cleanser to help your team feel like themselves again. For one particular teammate to feel like himself again.

As you had hoped, it’s not difficult work. At one point Karlach even whines to you, “Soldier, I’m bored. Aren’t we going to see some action today?”

She, of course, gets her wish moments later when your group faces off against some Shadow Vestiges. 

“Please be more careful next time,” Shadowheart chides, healing a wound on Karlach’s arm after the battle. “The Lady of Sorrows can only do so much when you charge into a group like that.”

The tiefling laughs at that and flexes her arm a bit. “How else am I going to impress our leader?” She shoots you a wink and a smile, which you deftly deflect with a thumbs up.

“Consider me impressed, Karlach,” you call into the wide room with an echo. “I’m swooning!”

She comments something in approval, but you don’t catch it as you see Astarion slinking off into the dark recesses of the Mason’s Guild. You excuse yourself, humor leaving your voice as you follow him into the shadows.

You think you hear Astarion muttering to himself, swearing, and you follow the sound to him. When you finally find him, the vampire just looks at you, eyes dark and face torn. It’s been too much for you to bear all day, and you can’t help but snap at him now, “Do you need to talk?”

“Later,” he says, through gritted teeth. His eyes close and he softens his expression, “Please, just come by my tent later.”

You relent for now, but it’s only a short while later that you decide to call it an early day. “For no reason,” you say to Karlach, when she asks why. “We’ve just had a rough couple of days.”

Shadowheart, catching the way your eyes trail Astarion, places a hand on Karlach’s shoulder. “You need to rest that wound of yours, alright?”

Karlach visibly slumps, but says, “Alright. Goddess’s orders or something, I guess.”

Finally leaving the land surrounding Moonrise in your dust, you head back to camp. 

___

You head toward Astarion’s tent at the first opportunity. You’re resolved to get to the bottom of what might be bothering him. Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than illithids or Cazador– in short, nothing that you can’t handle together. On the way, you try to convince yourself you would go to any lengths for all of your companions. Underneath it all, you know that you would go a bit further for this particular man. Leave it to me to link my happiness to the emotions of a vampire, you think to yourself, annoyed.

You shake the scowl off your face before turning the corner to Astarion’s tent. Once you approach, you find that he’s already standing there, waiting for you expectantly.

“I want to thank you,” he says, starting off the conversation once you’re close enough. He seems oddly unsure, either of how to approach the subject or of the very words coming out of his mouth.

Raising a single eyebrow at him, your worry takes a secondary role to the confusion his words cause. “You’re welcome?” you question, not sure what prompted such a sentence from his lips.

“For what you said, while I was in front of that vile drow,” he explains, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. His voice begins heating up as he continues, “I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing, it never mattered.”

You take a step towards him, your heart reacting to the pain in his words, to the anger on his face. Despite getting closer over the past several weeks, you still feel scared to console him, afraid he’ll take off like a skittish cat. You decide that this is enough for now, saying just his name, “Astarion…”

He doesn’t startle, only continues a bit calmer, “You could have asked me to do the same– to throw myself at her, what I wanted be damned. But you didn’t.” He sounds in awe at the very idea, his red eyes wide. “And I’m grateful.”

Understanding fully dawns on you now, as you see the situation from his perspective. Leveling a serious look at him, you say earnestly, “I didn't want you to do something you don’t want to do. Actually, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” You hope that your words ring as fiercely as you feel them.

“It’s a novel concept I admit. And a… a little intimidating.” His eyes are big, fear at war with a warmth at your words. “It would have been so easy to bite her. To just go along with what I was being told to do.” Astarion continues flippantly now, waving a hand as he speaks, “A moment of disgust to force myself through. And then I could have carried on, just like before.”

A transaction. He says it so casually, masking the pain that you know he feels. But you’re still a person, a person who might have been just another checkmark on his to-do list, another thing to force himself through. Despite yourself, you’re hurt. Afraid of the answer, but needing it all the same, you ask, “So why sleep with me? Did you think you’d get something from it?”

“Of course, I needed protection,” he laughs, and you can feel your heart pounding painfully against your chest in response. He remains casual though, so you temper your hurt, waiting for his full answer. “People don’t trust vampires– perhaps understandably– so I needed to get someone on my side. And seducing you was easy, frankly.”

You look at him skeptically, recalling that it was not, in fact, easy. “Huh, okay. We might be remembering that a bit differently.” But you motion for him to continue– as far as ‘thank yous’ go, this one has been distinctly gut-wrenching, and you hope that he’s reaching a point.

“So imagine how stupid I felt…” he says, eyes darting away nervously. Cautiously, Astarion returns his eyes to you– his face is open, bearing an expression more vulnerable than any you’ve seen from him. “When I started to genuinely feel something for you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, brain processing what he’s just said far too sluggishly. What, you think to yourself, did he say?

Reading the shock on your face, he continues to clarify, “Trust me, I was not happy about it. You were a complication I didn’t see coming. And yet…” His voice trails off, looking at you as if daring himself to be hopeful.

You already know your answer, what your heart feels. You’ve known for quite some time, resisting it all the while, thinking he could never feel the same way. But here you are now, his wide eyes and exposed heart waiting for you to say something– anything. Wracking your brain, you think of the skittish cat again. You don’t want to scare him or seem disingenuous, not now. You settle on a simple, achingly honest, “I care about you.”

“Really?” he asks, breathless in the moment, eyes wide in anticipation. The anxious optimism is written plainly on his face and your body moves, almost on instinct.

You’ve been so afraid to be tender before, worrying that he may not feel the same way or even believe you. Now though, you know this is the best way to show how you truly feel. To make him realize that you don’t see him as a body to take pleasure in or as someone who serves as a means to an end.

You close the distance between you, wrapping him in a full-body hug. 

He seems surprised at the sudden contact. Unlike any embrace you’ve had before, it’s not sexual, it’s not tentative. It’s simply full of all of the love you can muster.

After a second’s hesitation, you can feel him move to hug you back, his hands come to rest on your back softly. You squeeze him to yourself a bit tighter in response, and he leans into you, his head tucking into the crook of your neck. You stand like that for a long moment, the camp around you long forgotten, the world, your problems, they might as well be in another plane of existence. The feel of his arms around you, the tickle of his hair on your skin, the warmth you’re sharing – it feels so utterly intimate. More than anything else you’ve done together thus far.

When the time comes, you’re reluctant to let go. You know it has to be you to break it though. With the way he’s leaning into you, the pressure of his body pressing into yours, Astarion may never break this hug. But let go you do, standing back a step to take in the man before you.

Awe colors his pale face, as if he can’t believe that this is really happening. He takes a second to blink at you before saying, “You… you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” 

You chuckle in response, shooting him a wry smile, “I think my feelings may only be a surprise to you, Astarion.” You have a sneaking suspicion that at least a few members of your merry crew are exchanging knowing looks at each other right now, watching this drama unfold from the comfort of their tents.

“Honestly,” he gives a shaky laugh. “I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next.”

He slowly holds out his hand to you, a cautious invitation. It’s a simple gesture, but you’re not certain you’ve ever just… held his hand before. It almost makes you timid. You push down the butterflies and place your hand in his, looking up to find his ruby eyes intensely focused on you. The affection in his eyes wash away all of your nerves, and the smile that comes to your face is beaming.

Reading your expression, Astarion gets a step closer. He places his second hand atop yours and says, “But I know that this... this is nice.”

Then he just smiles at you, eyes crinkling in pure, unfiltered joy, and it reaches to your core. It feels like sunshine after a storm, a light in the murky depths of the Shadowlands. You think you could live off of his smile alone.

Again, you stand together for a moment, drinking in the feelings that have surfaced, basking in this nervous little bliss you’ve built together. By the time you break apart, your hand has warmed his cool skin and you can hear the sounds of your companions continuing camp life around you.

You give an awkward cough, not sure what to do next. The relationship between you has changed, but you’re not sure how yet, or how you should approach it. Nothing your usual wit can’t handle, you suppose. “And here I was, worried all day that some new, undying horror was plaguing you.”

“Gods above, I wish,” he says dramatically. “But no, it was the far more difficult matter of my stupid heart versus my beautiful, pragmatic brain.”

“I’m sad I didn’t get to witness the epic battle,” you give him a disappointed face that does nothing at all to mask the glee you feel at imagining his thoughts firmly revolving around you all day.

Astarion gives you a reluctant smirk before saying, “You missed a bloodbath. Last night, I stared at the roof of my tent, just considering all of the ways you may reject me. Like some kind of pining prepubescent boy.” His face winces at the image. “I thought I may never feel like myself again.”

While amusing, you’re surprised he thought you would ever reject him. “I always thought you were the perceptive one. Did you really not notice how I felt?”

He gives a light laugh at your incredulity. “My love,” your heart thrills at the new pet name. “I make hearts race regularly– whether from fear or lust, who am I to say?” Astarion gives you a sidelong look before continuing in a slightly sullen tone, “Besides, you’ve always seemed incredibly close to Karlach, I didn’t want to presume.”

“Ah, yes. She tried,” you look a bit abashed, thinking back to the night she asked you for something more. “But… I wasn’t sure what we had. And I didn’t want to ruin it, no matter what it was.”

“Seems I should have trusted your good taste.” He looks proud, but somehow you’re certain that it’s not just pride in himself. “You are incredible.”

You feel almost overwhelmed at his praise. If this is what being in a relationship with him is like, you’re not certain your heart will be able to handle it. While you consider that thought, the question of your relationship begins burning a hole in you. “So,” you drawl, not certain how to broach the subject. You’re still incredibly careful about scaring him off, especially when the connection you’ve built is such a new, delicate thing. “What exactly are…  we?” You add on, “To you?” as a safeguard. He needs to know that he can formulate his own opinion and you won’t push the matter. 

He produces an anxious little sigh, “I don’t know. But isn’t it nice, not to know?”

The look you give him is likely more nervous than you intend. “I suppose.”

“Ugh, you’re not a victim, not a target, not just one night it’s better to forget. But then… whatever in the world could you be?” Astarion looks confused, desperate for an answer he’s not ready for.

You know it’s not your place to give it to him. And, to be honest, even this admission makes your heart feel full, comforted. “That’s okay,” you respond. “Let’s take our time, figure it out together?”

“I’d like that.” His small smile is genuine and his hand is back on yours, squeezing gently.

An involuntary yawn escapes you, the day’s exertions catching up to you as the conversation winds down. “Oh, sorry,” you cover your mouth with your free hand. “I didn’t mean to–”

“No need to worry, darling.” He lifts the hand he’s holding to his lips and leaves a cool, gentle kiss before continuing, “It’s late. Our feelings will still be there in the morning.” He shoots you an anxious glance before continuing, “I hope.”

You grin at him, all too happy to reassure him. This is new to you both, but especially to a vampire who hasn’t known a gentle embrace in centuries. “I’m afraid you can’t be rid of me that easily. I’m not a wound that can heal up overnight, you know.”

Astarion leans into you to say, “If you were, I think I’d simply never sleep again.”

Your heart races at his weird little compliment. And, while your body begs you for the sweet relief of sleep, your head and heart scream at you to stay awake, to while away the rest of the night next to him and relish in whatever it is that’s blossoming here.

He can sense your hesitation to leave and tugs on your hand gently. “I’m probably doing this all backwards, but would you like to sleep with me? Not,” he stresses quickly, “sex. Just… resting together, perhaps?”

“Yes, please,” you say, earnestly. “I’d love to know what was so fascinating about the ceiling of your tent.”

Your new paramour shoots you an annoyed look, but continues to pull you after him, leading you to his bedroll. His hand is warm from your touch and you silently swear to keep it that way.

[thehousepatron]

If you’re coming over here from my main blog @whitegoldtower (I am deeply sorry) you probably don’t need to read all this. For those of you, however, who have chosen death…

Hi.

I’m Afallach, this is me and my silly little (s)elf insert, Zilvantar.

🕷️As House Patron, I have a few rules.🕷️

Under 18’s, please do not interact with me. I’m an adult and I’m not comfortable discussing adult things with kids. It’s weird.

Don’t be poisoning the air over here with any sort of -phobia. Particularly transphobia. I am a proud, intersex transgender man and I do not take kindly to being trifled with.

If you have arachnophobia, look away now. This is a drow-themed special interest blog: there will be spiders. And I do not wish to give anybody nightmares… unless their name is Marcus.

Fuck you, Marcus.

Everything I write about on here is purely either for fun or educational. I will be writing about some nasty things like poisons and what they do to a human body. This is not your incentive to attempt a DIY. Likewise, if you find a mushroom in the wild, DO NOT eat it unless you’re 1000% certain you know what it is.

If you’re not comfortable with topics such as BDSM and Monsterfucking, this is likely not the blog for you: the majority of the time, my brain is drowning his sorrows in Menzoberranzan’s filthiest gutters.

🕸️Made it this far? Great!🕸️

🕷️This my house. Entry, please. 🕷️

I have a lot of special interests. This blog is for this portion of them:

#mushrooms lichen and fungi

#Drow Lore

#Poisons

#Spiders (and some other arachnids)

#Crystals

#BG3 Stuff that fits the vibe

#Alchemy and Medieval Medicine

🕷️🕸️🕷️

If you’ve read all the way to the bottom of this post, thanks. Here, take this. It’s dangerous to go alone. 💜

My Drow Tavs/Durges:

Malhounnet Do’Urden: Circle of Spores Druid/Bard, Noble, MTF Transfem

Tam’lin Baenre: Szarkai Gloomstalker Ranger, Noble/Folk Hero, Minthara’s Cousin, Descendant of Gromph Baenre

Vesz: Bhaalspawn Barbarian/Monk (War-Priest of Lolth), Haunted One, Resist Durge, Intersex FTM

Zilvantar Arkentyl: Wizard/Sorcerer (Arachnomancer), Noble/Sage, favourite of Alak’niss Rilynath (my DnD OC, Archmage of Sorcere, who is also an Arachnomancer and dethroned/usurped Pharaun Mizzrym)

Yazdaer Mizzrym: Rogue/Hexblade Warlock (Zhentarim), Noble/Charlatan, Descendant of Greyanna Mizzrym and Pharaun Mizzrym.

Nathurra Agelenidae: Blood Sorcerer, Embrace (?) Durge - still working on her. Haunted One, my almost murder hobo (her name is literally based on the Hobo Spider). Minthara’s lover. Is going to scalp Orin’s braid off her head when she gets her hands on her. Sister rivalry but make it 🎀worse🎀

My D&D OC:

Alak’niss Rilynath: FTM noble, Sorcerer/Wizard Arachnomancer and Arch-Mage of Sorcere. Had a dalliance with Gromph Baenre, and assassinated the arch-mage who succeeded him (Pharaun Mizzrym) to assume the title of Archmage at Sorcere, having an advantage in doing so for his female anatomy. Fearfully referred to as the ‘Spider King’, as rumours say he is a ‘Consort of Lolth’, having been ‘kissed by the Spider Queen,’ as the only House Patron to be given the advantage of being blessed with a female form at birth, part of his body also naturally armoured with a spider-like carapace, which spread with his use of magic. He is also feared for his jet black hair, which, in Drow Society, is said to be a bad omen - and a bad omen he was, indeed, for the Rilynath House, as when they sought to eliminate him for the ‘treachery’ of his transition, he picked them off one by one until only he was left.

“My bloodline ends with me.”

Lawful Evil/True Neutral.

Read Alak’niss’ Fic Here!

[stabknives]

you 🫵 tell me about vykrum

Thank you for asking about my little freak. I love you forever.

Enormous slew of trigger warnings here: #misgendering // #noncon // #necro // #cannibalism // #abortion // #fauxcest // #abuse // #age gaps // ??

Also I. Rambled endlessly so if you don't read all this, not gonna blame you king. Just skip to whatever you're curious about with Control+F.

Some songs for Vykrum: Thermodynamic Lawyer by Will Wood, Sorrow by IAMX, Olly Olly Oxen Free by Amanda Palmer, Boring by the Pierces.

Some songs for Vyktash: Flowers of Flesh and Blood by Nicole Dollanganger, Choke by I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME, This Is Love by Air Traffic Control, Rabid by Nicole Dollanganger.

Some songs for Vykstarion: Cement by Nicole Dollanganger, Blood by the Pierces, Red Hands and White Knuckles by The Bravery, Say Hello Melancholia IAMX.

Might post the full playlists eventually!

[Quick info]

Name: Vykrum Malvaris.

Age: 150? 200? 300?

Gender: AFAB, Nonbinary.

Pronouns: He/They.

Orientation: Aro/Ace.

Race: Drow.

Class: Cleric, Death Domain.

So.

Where to start. I've had two versions of Vykrum, a tiefling and a drow, but I mostly just made them a tiefling originally because I liked the thought of them strangling people with their tail lmao. It makes far more sense for them to be a drow, and that's the version I have the actual backstory for.

Vykrum was born to nobility in the underdark. Firstborn female, very important. He technically had three younger male siblings, which became two when the third son was (obviously) killed. Vykrum was… affected by this pretty weirdly. Vykrum has always found family to be very important, but not because he has, like. An endless amount of love in his heart or anything. He's kind of arrogant to the point of absurdity. (He was a Yathrin cleric of Lolth. So. Clearly something is wrong with him.)

They would've taken over their house if they hadn't decided to do something hilarious by calling themselves a man. (They're nonbinary, technically, but Vykrum- or at the time, Vykri- gets their jollies from angering people expeditiously.)

Vykrum as a name doesn't mean anything to my knowledge. It's just a collection of letters I typed out at random. Same with Vykri. However, ‘Vikram’ is apparently a hindi name that means ‘wise’ and ‘brave’. Not pronounced the same. No reason I'm bringing this up, just thought it was neat.

The reason why they have gender weirdness is complicated. Obviously gender always is, but specifically with Vykrum it's more than. Normal. For instance, I'm just a man because… I'm a man… but Vykrum isn't real so there's symbolism here. Come along with me. Take my hand and let's explore.

Vykrum has never connected well with people. They were put on a pedestal from a very young age, gassed up like crazy for being great at murder and feeling nothing while they did it and being a manipulative little shite head ect ect… and they believed it, of course. No one else is good enough. No one else is special. Living creatures are all the same. (They're better off dead, dead, dead. Tedious, every day is so tedious.)

Vykrum was seemingly. Born tired. Tired and bored. Eventually they left the underdark, because you can't be a Lolth priestess and call yourself a man. No matter how momentarily riveting it is to see everyone lose their minds about it, they will eventually kill you for that.

So Vykrum fucks off upstairs. Being bhaalspawn isn't as easy on the surface. The Dark Urge needs new and exciting ways to be sated, but personal challenges can be a refreshing change of pace. And for awhile, working to suppress the Urge was stimulating enough. But like all ‘new’ things to Vykrum, it too eventually got boring. Death was something Vykrum had a fondness for, after all. Can't stay away from what you love for long.

Vykrum meets Gortash when he's still shitty little Enver Flymm, worlds worst little boy. I go back and forth on when exactly that would be, whether it was before Gortash got sold to the House of Hope or after. Don't have time to get into each possibility in depth because this is already pretty lengthy and we've barely even started, but I figure if they met while Enver was still with his folks Vykrum either caught him trying to steal something dangerous out of Vykrum’s bag or sticking his nose somewhere he ought not at the local apothecary… poisons maybe. The House of Hope meeting is literally just Vykrum ending up there after some bullshit, seeing a kid and going goddamn ahahaha (points at him and laughs).

Point is, Vykrum knew Enver when he was a kid. Found him… endearing… I guess is the only word for it. If he knew him while he was with his parents, Vykrum probably told him to kill them multiple times. If he was so fucking unhappy. Just kill them. Idiot. (That advice is harder to give in the House of Hope but they probably still say it. Go on. Moron. Kill the devil. From the bible.)

Need to stress that Vykrum isn't nice. Vykrum is actually very not nice. Although they take a shine to this random little snot, they don't exactly coddle him. Probably beats the shit out of him on more than one occasion for being annoying, not listening, pestering Vykrum… but Vykrum still shows up to make sure Gortash is still alive. Brings him food, and changes of clothes. Shows him how to hold a dagger, and where to aim it if he means to kill someone, or how to avoid that if he wants to make the whole ordeal last longer.

They're close. In their own way, I guess. Vykrum cares about him. At least as much as he's ever cared about anyone. He's like that third Malvaris son, the brother Vykrum never got to know. Maybe Vykrum CAN have a family. Or have someone. Even if The Boy is a horrible little cretin, by any real metric.

Vykrum has only had the dead as friends in the past. Lovers too. Do with that what you will. (He knows Talk With Dead, so. Who knows. Maybe it was a consensual use of their corpses? Lmao?) The dead don't really go anywhere. They have no reason to try to trick you. They don't have some silly facade firmly in place, a mask Vykrum has to stare at blandly and pretend he can't see past it for the sake of propriety. Most people are a lot more honest, in death.

Not that such sentiments apply to his relationship with Flymm. God no. Lmao. The Boy Is A Menace, but they're alike, in some ways. Several. Perhaps in all the most important ways.

Sometimes I think Vykrum was around to see Gortash escape from his indentured servitude but realistically probably not. Vykrum is too flighty. Can't stick around some random human kid all the time. So he goes off on his own, for what he thinks is a short amount of time— (Like. Ten years.) I'm sure Gortash loved that. (I guess you could say he was attached to Vykrum, despite the abuse. Love isn't the right word, but still. Getting abandoned. Again. By the guy that's supposed to really understand him. Hilarious. Ironic.)

By the time they meet again, Gortash is pretty much grown. Vykrum ends up in his employ, and that goes about as well as one would expect. Gortash is Important Now. Acknowledge him as important right this fucking second (not his words obviously. He's more subtle. But I'M the one that has to summarize all this.) or he is going to make sure Vykrum regrets his time away.

Vykrum… can't really do that. He can obey, yes. He can nod when instructed to nod, or smile if told to smile. He's very good at playing the part of obedient pet, because he can't usually be assed to put effort into resisting things, but he doesn't think anyone is important. Life is a transient state before death, which is permanent and much more important than breathing flesh. That doesn't mean Enver isn't important *to* Vykrum, but asking him to express that normally is like asking the stars not to shine. Like okay do you want me to eat your finger or something… do you want me to strangle you and fuck the body. What do you want.

And it's not as if Gortash loves Vykrum either. He wants Vykrum to love him, and obey him, and find him attractive. But Gortash doesn't want to like. Return the sentiment. He just thinks he's owed that, along with everything else under the fucking sun. Especially from Vykrum, who put him through so much, but was simultaneously the only person there for him as a kid. Two asexuals having depraved sex and neither is enjoying it ect ect… it's all psychosexual.

When Gortash is trying to needle Vykrum into sleeping with him, Vykrum probably says no at first. He's never slept with a living person and really doesn't want to. Which is obviously why Gortash wants to fuck. Because he knows Vykrum doesn't want to. Sigh. I don't know what's wrong with him either, anyway— obviously Gortash doesn't take no for an answer. Vykrum is supposed to be his tool. Tools are for using.

So obviously he just does it while Vykrum is sleeping one night. Makes sure to leave evidence behind. I'm guessing he'd have to drug Vykrum beforehand so he doesn't wake up, unless Vykrum wakes up in the middle of the act which seems. Dangerous. He's still the Dark Urge, whether he's like. A tired old man or not.

They go bananas. Not because of any normal reason like violated consent or whatever, (although deep down part of Vykrum will always be offended and repulsed that Gortash, the boy they thought of as Their Boy, took liberties with them.) but because they do not want a baby. Birth is about as opposite to death as you can get. (And Gortash is not making things better. Mocking Vykrum. Saying SHE might make a better MOTHER this time around. Didn't do very well the first time, but second chances and all that.)

Vykrum self mutilates. Probably right there in front of Gortash's salad and everything. They heal themselves after, but basically say Don't Do That Again. If you want to fuck me so bad do it while I'm awake. (Begrudging) (Resentful) (Fuckign. Thinking of this as a new unpleasant responsibility in need of fulfilling.)

Gortash agrees obviously. Not because he loves sex but because this seems like as good a way as any to show Vykrum that they're just an object he owns. Kill who I tell you to kill and bend over when I tell you to bend over. And of course he has to make it weird the whole time. Maybe this wouldn't be happening if you hadn't left, or if you did a better job raising me, or blah blah blah blah blah… mans a professional yapper.

The psychological and physical torment he puts Vykrum through is insane. Drugs in the food. Sure, why not. Dead family members. Not sure how he reached the underdark, but probably! Gaslighting is off the charts. The ride never ends. #Does Vykrum have to ask to go to the bathroom too milord, or can they piss when nature calls.

Vykrum gets got by Orin eventually. Probably knew it was coming, and didn't do anything to stop it. Wakes up post lobotomy a little different, although not by much. Still detached, and vaguely condescending, but without as much baggage they don't understand why they can't connect with people.

There is a sizable distance between him and the other companions at all times. They follow him because he's got many braincells worth rubbing together and is by far the oldest and most experienced of them. (He might be younger than Astarion but I'm not sure yet. I don't actually think so?)

Speaking of Astarion. That's the one he initially connects with. Even if he's not sure… why… can't put his finger on it. Something about the way he talks. Or acts. Is very familiar. Vykrum doesn't actually like it much at first. But the flagrant attempts at manipulation + pet names do feel like home.

When Astarion first asks to sleep with him Vykrum is like ehhhhh… well… uh… I guess. You're dead aren't you? And Astarion is like what. And Vykrum is like it doesn't matter. Fine. Sure. If it'll make you feel better. (Not the response Astarion is used to getting that's for damn sure. Lmao.)

Vykrum's sort of. Placid acceptance of all of Astarion's worst traits and behaviors is. I don't wanna say good for Astarion because it's definitely making him worse. But it's also making him feel BETTER. So there.

Astarion confesses his love for Vykrum immediately and gets treated like a simpleton. Tbh. No getting around that. Vykrum is like I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, genuinely. But if you want I'll pretend you never said that to me because I really do think I care about you. For right now. At least.

Astarion: Clearly ascending will solve this particular problem, along with all my other problems. No the cycle of abuse is NOT a wheel in constant motion, ever turning.

Only other person in the group that bothers with Vykrum is Karlach. Because she's Karlach. She's just kinda uber social. And Vykrum finds her zest for life somewhat fascinating. It's the opposite of him on ever level. He can't not be intrigued. World's weirdest besties. And he's got fuck all memory of his involvement in her fate, so…

Genuinely cannot imagine how the reunion with Gortash goes. Vykrum comes back, no memory (kind of happier that way), new guy (that he doesn't love romantically), best friends with Karlach (treating her like a shiny rock). What the fuck happened to you. Who the hell do you think you are. Maybe Gortash tries a new approach. Says some out of pocket shit like oh we were engaged……….. how could you do this to meh………………… just to fucking piss Karlach and Astarion off. Isolate Vykrum again. Vykrum who is desperately trying to grow even a little bit as a person. No matter what, his approach is way too fucking jolly. That's for damn sure.

There's more. A lot more. But I've been writing this for too long, soooo-! Thank you for this ask! I really needed the excuse. I was dying.

[justacynicalone]

Desiderio

Aim in life:

He wants to live a happy life where he can love Aurelius without the hatred and pressure from his father and stepmother, he wants to live with his friend Cato, and sister Eurydice without the world looking down on all of them.

Tarot Card:

The Fool

Associated songs:

Letter to my thirteen year old self

Girl like me

Wasted Summers

Vampire Empire

Quizzes they’d fit in!!

The Soldier

Blood in lamb’s wool

Name analysis: 

His full name: Desiderio Cassius Fantoche

Desiderio, meaning yearning, sorrow, or desired

Cassius, like the instigator of Caesar’s assassination,

Fantoche meaning, puppet, or marionette. He is a puppet controlled by his father.

Backstory:

Desiderio is half-drow, half human. His Father is a human Count in Aetia, a power hungry, crazed man. His mother meanwhile, is a drow commoner who chose to spend a short time exploring the vast lands and met with Desiderio’s father. 

Desiderio’s father slept with his mother once while drunk, expecting nothing more than a one-night-stand. His mother got pregnant and supposedly left him on his father's doorstep with a note explaining his existence.

Desiderio meanwhile, was raised in the count’s estate. A scorned child, born as a result of an affair with who knows what with strange ears, eyes, and dark skin that differentiated him from other children. No servant was ever openly rude to him, he was still the count’s child, but he was heavily neglected. Eurydice’s mother, the countess, on the other hand was quite open in her detestation of him. She would tell him to his face of his shortcomings, and how he was, and never will be, above her in any rank. That stuck with him throughout his life. His father didn’t care much for him either. His father never cared for him, and thought of him as little more than a mistake he made when he was young he had to deal with. 

Eurydice was the only one who took care of him, she basically raised him, his mother who shouldn’t have had to have been. 

He met Aurelius, the crown prince, when he ran out of the count’s residences garden and ended up at the royal gardens. The Count’s residence sat behind the palace, and the garden just so happened to share a forest with the Crown Prince’ Palace’s. Desiderio ran into Aurelius and the two quickly became friends. 

The count finds out about the two’s friendship and Desiderio becomes a pawn in his father’s game for power. He tries to use Desiderio and his friendship with Aurelius to rise in the ranks, gaining power, money, fame, and glory.

…

Connections:

Desiderio and Aurelius are childhood best friends, and know almost everything about each other. Well other than the few secrets they keep. Desiderio, as much as he trusts Aurelius, hides his bloodline with Aurelius, worrying for how he would react. …

Desiderio and Eurydice are half-siblings. Eurydice was there when Desiderio was left at the Count’s residence and helped take care of him. She taught him everything she knew, and everything he knows now. She was his sister, but not only that, his teacher, friend, and practically mother too. Desiderio is constantly worried about her and how much she avoids telling Desiderio about things.

Desiderio and Cato are close friends, Cato is the only person outside of Aurelius and Eurydice he’s ever had even the delusion of a close relationship with, he talks to him about his problems, and lets Cato talk to him about his. In their own way they’re both healing together, learning how to move on from the problems of their past and move towards the future together. Desiderio trusts Cato more than almost anyone, as much as he loves Aurelius and Eurydice, he can’t help but hesitate to tell them about some problems, out of pure concern for them 

Desiderio and Athanasia …

How he speaks:

He is sort of nervous when he speaks, but when talking about something he cares about and is greatly interested in he is strong and unwavering, confident when going through something important.

Physical Features:

He has platinum blonde hair, that is dyed to match shades with Eurydice’s when they were young so that he looks more human. His eyes are a deep green that he inherited from his father. His skin is dark, but not so much that he doesn’t just look like he’s from the deep south, although he does have strangely blue undertones, it's not something hard to hide. 

Notes:

He doesn’t completely know who he is, all he knows is who he wants, and who he wants around him. He doesn’t like being alone, to be left alone is his biggest fear. He wants to believe in a god, but at the same time, doesn’t. He is Aurelius’ advisor, and is in charge of most banquets, and social parts of the empire. He is basically the second most powerful man in the empire, and is in charge of who knows what, when, and how. He is big in noble society.

He is 25 years old

ENTJ

[rodolfoparras]

Nah it's ok, I just have crippling addiction to twinks and I'm weak for pretty boys who look like elven and angelic. I swear... a pretty thing bats his eyes at me and I'm fucking goner. ANYWAYS-

Acheron is old D&D character that went through quite a bit of development and he will always be one of my favourite characters I ever created hence why I made him into my Tav. He was originally female character for a brief while just because drow society is matriarchal and I intended for him to start out as royalty and threat to his aunt's power. Buuuut I quickly decided that I want him to be man after all so he's canonically trans now.

I don't want to prattle on about drow history and politics even though I could but essentially men are seen as slaves and toys and have no worth in the society and drows are notorious for turning on each other and killing one other constantly. Acheron's older brother wasn't like that at all and he was super sweet and him and Acheron were very close. Acheron was child prodigy and quickly gained favour of their matriarch and head priestesses and became champion of Lolth and his entire goal was to become head matriarch so he could build better life for his brother. That's also the reason why he repressed his real self and only his brother knew that he was trans.

Acheron was noticed and chosen by Raven Queen who sensed his grief and sorrow even while he as young child and she became mother figure to him while he secretly prayed to her. He got infused with shadow magic through the sword she sent down to him and she became his patron goddess. When he was still young man, his aunt (fearing his influence and the influence of his mother), slaughtered his entire family and Acheron only survived because his brother manage to hide him and his goddess kept him safe. That event broke something in him that was never able to be repaired.

Acheron fought his way out of Underdark and escaped to surface where he saved by young druid who would become his best friend (who is actually my bestie's D&D character). He only had locket with his brother's picture, lock of his hair and his ring to remember his brother by and he treasures it deeply. Also since hexblades (weapon he received) are kind of semi sentient and can talk to their wielders, Acheron believes his brother's soul is in the blade and he talks to it regularly.

He completely buried his old life, transitioned and made a name for himself, eventually being known as The Scourge of Underdark and he and very chaotic but mostly decent person. He had quite a few other tragic things happen to him that kind of shaped him into being cold and ruthless and no-nonsense person. And side note but he actually has genuinely good relationship with his patron and she does genuinely love him as sees him as her son.

Every other companion in bg3 has horrible and abusive relationship with their goddesses and Acheron is there all like 😶😶 "Mmm skill issue ig, imma go tell mom about my day and ask for new spells"

And his story fits so well with bg3 story and I even headcanon Minthara, female drow that can become your companion, as his cousin and her mother to be the aunt that slaughtered his family. And Astarion is like.... second person Acheron had genuinely romantic feelings for ever probably and his companions are one of few people he grew to care about. And Acheron is very much ready to do whatever it takes for his friends and especially for Astarion.

He doesn't care about power or influence or anything, he just wants to keep Astarion safe because he can't risk losing the most important person in his life again. That's why I hc that after the events of the game he goes back to Underdark and kills his aunt and everyone loyal to her and he makes it clear that unless he and his loved ones are left alone, he will not hesitate to wipe them all out. He's a little unhinged but ordinary people know him as a hero, albeit very scary one.

-🔮

Sugar!!! I am genuinely amazed how in depth this is it felt like I was watching a movie reading this!!’ First of all I’ll always be a sucker for good healthy sibling relationship and the fact that their bond still remains in some ways is why I’m not sad despite everything tragic that happened to him also Im so glad he has a best friend by his side to love and support him because it can’t be easy having gone through all that trauma and continue life on your own also astarion being all starry eyed over him, to him it’s like seeing a sweet puppy flash its teeth but he absolutely loves it feels himself get all warm and light 🥹 this is genuinely a beautiful story and I’m throughly impressed with how thought out every step is

[bruinescence]

@call-2-arms cont.

As the darkness began to deepen around him within one of many throats that connected the stretched and left-wanting reach of Silvanus to the subterranean world below, he could not help but think of another child lost within a different brand of darkness he'd yet to find a ladder into. Perhaps it was misguided of him to chase that startled instinct of so desperately wanting to find his oldest friend within a century of lost echoes and shifting shadows? Kagha had said as much back at the grove when in her pestilence, she'd pointed out how the Archdruid could not, in good faith, put the needs of the grove first when he was far more concerned with chasing the ghosts of the past like they were simply memories best stored away in a safe along with a tattered journal and a halberd soaked in a brand of sorrow more potent than any snake's venom.

If Sornin did not already find the druid's actions misguided, Halsin could only imagine the drow's unrelenting displeasure at the very idea that the Archdruid of the emerald grove didn't just want to, but needed to save at least one child in duress from the dark to keep the heavy burden in his chest from causing him to sink yet again below the surface of shadows he'd been bobbing along all this time. Because if he were to go under yet again he feared, it might be another century or two than he had left before he gained a head above the water enough to make out the direction of a faint glimmer that would guide him to the spot where Thaniel lay trapped as a lighthouse in a heavy fog.

He felt the additional weight joining him on the ladder when it gave a few extra creaks, and a quick tilt of his head up to confirm his suspicion had a faint smile flicker across the tense expression he wore on the way down as he fully expected to find an awful sight for the surface that anyone else that lived below might not bat an eye over. "Of course... and I will accept your telling me so with grace and without further lip." The druid promised, halfway glad for the banter on the unnerving climb downwards.

Once his boots had hit rock bottom, Halsin swiftly turned and stepped out into the pooled blackness as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the underworld. His elvish vision easily cut through the ink after a moment, and he only but waited until the brush of druid leaves upon his drow companion's shoulder brushed against his bicep when the other joined him before he set forth in the direction he detected a sharp whimper and the offputting sound of rocks shifting. Coming upon a cliff side that led to a steep drop down onto a lower level partially lit by flower beds of mushrooms, he took a moment to stoop and quietly observe the scene below.

"PlEAse!" A young drow girl stood her ground across from an older, male counterpart who showed no signs of engagement other than having brandished a double-edged sickle that he wielded along the length of his arm. Eyes as black as the surroundings seemed pinned solely on the girl who couldn't have been more than ten at best- her pale amethyst complexion a dirtier shade of crushed plum in the center of a wet, sniveling expression. "Please, Seldzar- I don't...I don't wanna hurt ya. They can't make me!"

"Tch." The older drow scoffed at the display, though he still remained poised into the proper battle stance. The only pity about him was that he did not advance again to send her shrieking angrily and backing away as he had earlier. "Stop this nonsense. Immediately! You are proving that Lolth chose right for this test. You must attack me, Nathrae. I will die either way...my purpose is to keep you from the fate of the Striders now. Now come, and prove your wroth to our goddess!"

"NO!" The girl stamped her foot, flinging the dagger she'd been given earlier at the foot of the man. "I won't do it-! I won't hurt you...you're my, my friend-...you've been with me this whole time! I can't lose you like my parents too- I can't!" With a wail, she backed up blindly, blotting the dirty tears out of her eyes.

A deep frown set in the druid's expression as he considered the scene, particularly when the older drow straightened out of his defensive posture in order to begin the ruthless stride into towards the child, brandishing the scythe with a furious flick of his arm. Giving a start like he was about to jump down between the situation, he felt Sornin's arm move in front of him like a blockade to which he had to swivel a furious if not confused glance to the drow. "You would let this progress?" Whatever 'this' was...the only thing he could recognize was the distress in the child's actions and the raw panic in her voice as she continued to beg the advancing drow until she had no choice but to dart towards the wall both he and Sornin were set upon, her nails bloodying as she tried to scrabble uselessly up the rock face. In an instant, Halsin's eyes flashed with a golden fury as he bared his teeth. "I won't stand for this barbarism! Let me through, damn you-"

[slusheeduck]

Get to Know my Tav!

Snagged from @mistercrowbar!

Falerin Glais - Drow Half-Elf - Fey Warlock - He/him - (1)27

favorite weapon: Sorrow. For the most part, he likes staying back and slinging offensive spells to get the job done. For situations where that's not possible, though, it's nice to have a way to stab people without getting too close.

style of combat: "So anyway, I started [Eldritch] blasting."

most prized possession: His spellbook! It's the one he was gifted from his mentor ages ago, a very handsome, leather-bound tome that attaches nicely to a belt. While he's a warlock, he still tries to learn spells the traditional way, and he has a nice collection inside.

deepest desire: To live without the threat of death (or ceremorphosis) hanging over him.

guilty pleasure: Climbing things. In a sense, it's not guilty to enjoy it, but every time he does, he can hear his mother telling him not to--just think of your condition, Falerin!

best-kept secret: His first time was with his patron. His very powerful, very noteworthy patron. His first time with a non-fey was with Astarion.

greatest strength: His patience. It's a learned skill, but he's very good at meeting people where they are and not pushing until they're ready. It's helped immensely with keeping peace among the party.

fatal flaw: His stubbornness and self-reliance. He learned early in his life that nothing would get done unless he took the initiative to do it himself, but as a result, it makes him very, very bad at asking for help. It also can end up with him railroading his way through life, regardless of how what he does makes others feel.

favorite smell: Foresty smells--wet leaves, morning mist, wildflowers.

favorite spell or cantrip: Cloud of daggers all day, every day. Yes, it's killed some of the people they've needed to save and resulted in some hasty Healing Words, but it's so convenient and straightforward.

pet peeve: Being pitied, or worse, babied.

bad habit: Licking things. At this point, he'd still do it even if his fey exposure was somehow eliminated.

hidden talent: He's actually quite good at crafting spells, though he often has nothing more to go off of than theories since his own skill is fairly limited. He and Gale started bonding by playing around with the spells he came up with.

leisure activity: Crocheting to the sound of camp bickering. After their adventure, it's often to the sound of Astarion complaining about clients.

favorite drink: Black tea with milk and one sugar.

comfort food: Fresh-baked bread with butter and jam (any kind, but he's very fond of blackberry or marmalade)

favorite person: It's actually a hard tie between Astarion and Gale. While he fell in love with Astarion fairly quickly, he and Gale clicked almost immediately upon meeting. They spend hours talking shop about spells, magic, and other sage-friendly areas long after others (Astarion included) have gotten bored and left. Beyond that, they both have a deep sense of loneliness that they haven't been able to shake off before now, so finding someone who understands just how special it is to have friends makes their relationship all the more special.

favored display of affection (platonic and/or romantic): Physical touch. His mother was a cuddler, so casual touches and hugs are his favorite way to show people he cared. He did NOT hesitate to hug Karlach to test her heat. He did, however, struggle a lot with Astarion being touch-averse early on; he stuck it out and didn't say anything, but it bothered him far more than he let on.

fondest childhood memory: He had a fairly happy childhood (the benefit of being raised in a cosmopolitan surface city by his human mother, no doubt), even with his heart condition, but one of his fondest memories was playing around with magic. It was one of the few ways to play that didn't end in a scolding or a visit from the local healer, and even as a child, he knew that magic was his best shot at fixing himself up.

Tagging anyone who wants to share more about their Tav!

[whispering-jabberwocky]

🖊

Since you gave me a freedom of choice I will talk about my backup DnD character.

Ori is a young man half-drow just shy of twenty. He is slender build, fair faced, with ruby eyes full of sorrow. This is, at least, what Deep Voice said. Deep Voice never lies. For as long as Ori remembers Deep Voice was with him. However Ori only remembers last three years. His first memory is a dark place, smell of blood and Deep Voice telling him to run.

There are three things that should be a secret. First one is Deep Voice. Ori should never speak about Deep Voice with anyone else. But that is ok. Deep Voice takes care of him. Secondly, the dark place should be forgotten. That is also fine. It was a bad place, no need to come back. Lastly, Ori must hide golden scars on his torso. The markings are beautiful and intricate, like pottery cracks mended with gold. Ori finds them beautiful, but he will not disobey Deep Voice, even if it's a shame nobody will see them.

In Ori's own opinion, he is beautiful. His features are soft and delicate, and sometimes he enjoyes adorning himself in make up, putting flowers in his hair, dressing in laces, silks and ribbons. He notices people react differently to him, when he dresses up.

"Like I'm a different person."

YOU ARE STILL ORI.

"Am I really?"

The name did not match. The way he spoke was ill fitting. He asked to be called Oriana, while he weared a dress. Deep Voice obliged.

Oriana is a skillful dancer. She doesn't shy from attencion of people. She had much more luck finding a job to support herself with a little theatre troupe, roaming around the country. It is tiring to be her all the time however. Oriana is still Ori in her core. But it was fine it it was for a show.

[talesofdricarro]

Tales of Dracarrio: Act 1 Session 4 recap

As the dust settles, the party is drowned in a wave of cheers. Brightening spirits and hope filled the arena as the slaves saw these strangers come and conquer the source of their sorrow and pain. Even if the party took a little longer than expected to release the townsfolk from their bondage, they were grateful all the same.

The fattest of the slaves approached the party with a cheerful demeanor and who he had to thank for this heroic rescue. But instead of giving them their names, the party gestured to Sean Giggles. The still injured town fool who fought bravely to save his people. After a short argument on how the townsfolk treated Sean, the party calmly brought Sean back to his childhood home where he could recover. As they walk the dirt streets of the now liberated town of Fairgrove, Phaven begins to scan through the notes he discovered on the corpses of the wardens. One is written in a language he cannot understand and the other bears the mark of a Drow seal. As he reads through it he discovers they were ordered to eventually betray the organization they were working for and take the relic the other wardens were tasked in discovering. Luckily, Richard actually knew how to read the other note, and it’s actually a poem written in Spanish. Speaks of an ancient prophecy and a legendary instrument said to grant the user unimaginable power. As the party lays Sean to rest in his childhood bed,

It is here where the party finally realized why the townsfolk weren’t too fond of Sean Giggles. For when he awoke from his slumber an hour after the fight, Sean’s true voice was revealed. The party's reaction to this persona of Sean, commonly known as Sad Circus Sean, came with mixed feelings. Sean is able to conceal this version of himself with magical clown makeup the party quickly asked him to put back on.

It’s here when the Mayor of the town bardged his way into Sean’s house with great news. Although Vincent Footloose seemed to not understand that tensions between Sean and the townsfolk have been mended and quickly tripped the fat mayor as he entered, crushing Sean Giggles.

After an awkward situation, the party demanded the mayor to pay up for the contract they took to save this town from goblins. The mayor, not knowing what they mean, Sean speaks up and reveals that he was the one who set up the contract. And they’d have to go back to Newberry to collect their reward.

The mayor then offered the party a place to stay as well as a feast in their honor for their heroic deed. So as the night dragged on, they all were showered in praise, drinks, music and food the goblins left behind. The townsfolk finally were able to rest easy tonight thanks to the party. As the night went on, Richard found out a little bit more about his situation. Finding out he could be in even more danger than he thinks he is and if he wishes to find some answers, he’s going to have to seek them in the far away land of Cordova. Vincent also learned something that night. A legendary alchemist who’s said to be unmatched within the capital city of Cittadina. Someone who might be able to help him find his goals. As the fire burns bright and people begin to pass out from the goblin wine, the party end their day with full stomachs, and surrounded by joy.

In the morning, the party said their goodbyes. They tried to convince Sean giggles to come along with them, but he had a town to protect and rebuild. But said he’d see them again one day. And so the party ventured off, back to the town where they all met. Would they all separate once this job is done? Tensions surly did rise not even 2 days into their adventure. But before any of them could make a decision, they met an old man struggling to walk down the road as he carried a large backpack. As they approached, the party learned he was headed to Newberry as well, and was going to stock up on more ale from the Drunken Dryad. The very Inn they all met just 3 days ago. Worried that this old man isn’t gonna make it, Eblech offers to carry the old man on his back. But as Eblech picked up the old man, he realized that the pack he carried was completely empty. Just how exhausted was this old man? Richard and Vincent realize that the next stop would be the tower where they murdered that other old homeless man yesterday. So they would venture ahead of the rest of the party to clean up the mess just in case the old man finds the crime scene. They clean up the mess just as the others make it to the tower. And as the sun sets, they all think it best they all rest for the night. And as they all set up camp and drift off to sleep, the night seemed very peaceful. With everyone taking turns keeping watch, the night goes pretty uneventful. But as everyone wakes up. Migraines… back pain… sore muscles and achy bones affects everyone except for Zephyr for some reason. The party isn’t quite sure everyone is so exhausted, and when they go to wake up the old man they helped get here, they find out he died in his sleep. What is causing their exhaustion? How will they make it back to town safely? And will they be able to work together to solve this mystery and come out on the other side alive? A new adventure starts now.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Astarion with Wood Elf!Tav headcanons, pls?

I decided to stick to the prompt and write about Wood Elves as promised, but let me know in the requests if you want Wild Elf!Tav as well!

Astarion x Wood Elf!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

TW: a mention of suicide and PTSD

As a Wood Elf, you grew up deep in the woods in one of the many hidden villages of your people.

Since childhood, you learned to trust humans and dwarves and know how to survive in the forests.

You are good with animals and have your own familiar - a lynx called Mould (because of her weird patterns on the fur).

When you were sixteen, your woods were destroyed by orcs. You survived by hiding high in the trees, afraid of going down.

From now on, your path is the path of revenge.

To orcs, who destroyed your home. To humans who sicced them and solved the issues with Elves with their dirty hands. To dwarves who refused to help.

And to High Elves who didn't help a young orphan

You kill. You destroy. You are cruel and violent like a drow, not a Wood Elf.

Your rage and your blindness are used by the wrong people.

Your bow and your arrows become a weapon of destruction.

You leave a blood trace wherever you go.

Until you are kidnapped by mindflayers.

You aren't afraid. You want to die. You just wait until the cruel will of the Illithyds turns you into something monstrous.

But it doesn't happen. The tadpole blocks some of your most unpleasant memories and suppresses the bloodlust and disgust.

You've never felt so good!

As a leader, you gather your small company to get to Baldur's Gate.

You feel something is off with Astarion - Wood Elves have a good intuition concerning the Undead.

You feel compassion - you also left a trace of blood. You allow him to feed on you, and with every day you get closer.

He reconnects with the Elven culture through you, though Sylvan Elves and Moon Elves are different.

You braid his short hair and adorn it with little pieces of jewelry the same way men of your kin did.

On the other hand, he tells you about history and geography things that aren't known to isolated Or-tel-quessir.

You help Astarion to heal, and you feel like something is healing inside you. Your past, your sorrows.

But the moment the tadpole disappears...

It is all back.

The blood on your hands. The cries of your victims.

You want to die.

While the streets of Baldur's Gate are festive, you walk like a ghost.

You don't deserve to live. Not after everything you've done.

You want to end it all. You find a solitary place where no one will ever find you, and you take a dagger.

You faint as the blood leaves your body, and you feel like death lulls you to forever sleep.

You hope that your soul is too corrupt to be reincarnated.

But-

You wake up.

Alive.

Astarion has saved you.

He found you by the smell of blood and managed to find help before it was too late.

You remember his desperate cry for help, his attempts to stop the blood loss.

As you recover, he takes care of you. He spoon-feeds you, changes the bandages, and never ever says anything about your suicide attempt.

He knows why you did it. And he won't allow you to do that ever again.

Together, you leave the city and go into the wilderness.

You help each other heal. Astarion soothes your mental pain, and you help him with nightmares.

You have a few more attempts to off yourself, but Astarion always finds words to stop you.

With years, it gets easier. You redeemed yourself in your own eyes by helping people. You found the strength to keep living.

As for Astarion, he comes to terms with your mortality.

You will live for centuries, and you have a lot of time together. 

And you will return. You will reincarnate and, if he is still alive, you shall meet again.

A century post-game, you find yourself in the familiar woods.

You know this place.

It is your destroyed home.

You cry and grieve while Astarion holds you, not letting you fall into the dark abyss of your sorrows.

He helps you build a small shrine, a reminder about people who used to live there.

And you feel good. You feel free.

Astarion suggests going to see more of this world. Other continents, maybe, other planes.

And you agree. You leave your past and go into the future with your Thiramin, once and forever love.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

[felandcris]

@brightclara location: Brave New World notes: in the years that followed

Hateful, visceral fire had been what burned within him at first. Maddening mania that couldn't be stilled by anything. In the early years Felandaris had had the option of fleeing, of running off to some distant realm, or maybe by commandeering one of the soratami's airships, firing up one of his gates. Loss would be wherever he went: his sister and the only woman he'd ever loved had been betrayed, the drow had all been betrayed, and Somniar had been taken from him. A love so consuming that when the Inquisitor had flamed out, the sun itself might as well have grown dark. Felandaris' magic hadn't been able to sustain the man forever, he forced Somniar to stay for as long as possible, pushed his body and his spirit to the most extreme until at last Atropos' cruel shears cut that final, lingering thread.

Felandaris had laid with him in the bed that the royal creature had made for them, he'd watched as the flesh had started to recede and stretch back over Somniar's bones. Had wept against the Inquisitor's chest as it caved and gave way to rot and decay, until there was nothing left of him but bones and lichen. Among the fey it was a common jest that they were so weak that their sorrow could cause the creatures to weep themselves to stone. Felandaris thought he'd glimpsed it in Hyperborea's fall, but even that was a flickering candle in the face of this raging sun, this indomitable grief.

The Great Old Ones had wiped the floor with every significant power in Rome in a matter of hours, the rest of the world over the course of a few days. Among the rubble there were rumblings of rebels, misfits from different walks of life and backgrounds that were banding together behind a few old powers: the Bright Goddess, the Queen of the Fey, Melpomene, and the Original vampires that still lived. An alias to protect her name, "You're hard to find." Felandaris said, he wanted to join her and their cause but he had his own motivations, and he wouldn't throw his life away just yet. "What's your plan here? Fight, resist, what then? You can't possibly win." He was many things, a drow most of all, but someone who would go down in a blaze of glory was the least of it.

[jaskwritesthings]

Shadowgast daemon au?

tags: alternate universe - dark materials, canon complaint, suggested canon torture

(ao3)

notes: abbil = trusted, friend

“Frumpkin is a familiar, yes?” Essek asked, the question had been bubbling under the surface for quite some time and there was something about the warm low light of the tower library that allowed space for bravery to blossom. Usually it manifested in sitting closer to Caleb or reaching out for the warmth of his touch. Today it appeared it was a less pleasurable pursuit that had won out.

Caleb stilled, unnaturally so, “Ja.”

“Your daemon…” Essek trailed off, unsure how to proceed. There were certain things you just didn’t talk about in polite society, kept for the dark corners and hushed over near empty wine glasses with disgust. The persistent rumour of the Empire’s severing of daemon’s kept many a drow child awake at night but Essek had only learned the truth of it in his interactions with the Cerberus Assembly. He suspected Caleb had been subjected to such a horror but he hoped, he prayed, that Caleb would take this opportunity to trust him with his daemon.

Caleb didn’t move but there was a subtle shift in him that froze Essek’s heart. He already knew the answer when Caleb responded cooly, “Long gone.”

“I’m sorry Caleb,” Essek mumbled, the words feeling far too small to encompass the sorrow he felt for his partner.

“Ja, me too,” Caleb said just as emptily. The cold words plastering over the cracks that Caleb was trying to conceal. Essek could still see them, wished he could soothe them somehow.

“Does it hurt still?” He asked and Caleb closed the book he’d been studying softly. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. Still so much of their relationship was trepidation, feeling out the boundaries and the pit falls and trying so hard not to snap like a cornered animal when one was stumbled upon. Essek knew he was pushing at Caleb’s defences but if he didn’t he wouldn’t know how to help him and he so badly wanted to help him.

“Like a phantom limb,” he admitted thickly.

“Is there any way I can help?”

Caleb smiled weakly, “I am well.”

Essek frowned, suddenly understanding Beauregard’s urge to violence as a sign of affection, “And I would help ease any pain you carry Caleb Widogast.” He stated fiercely and it seemed to catch the Empire wizard off guard.

“Touching another's daemon can provide comfort,” Caleb offered quietly after a few moments of shocked silence.

“The Nein?”

“Ja they have allowed it but it is not always comfortable for them.”

Essek could imagine, Verin had always been free with his touch as a child and Essek had not always welcomed it. Found it suffocating at times and even painful on occasion, the vulnerability of it left Essek feeling far too exposed. He wished he’d been more accepting of it, perhaps it would have made reaching out to Caleb and the others far easier. He struggled, the tug of war between begging for comfort and denying to protect himself, a constant battle held in his chest, often stealing his breath.

And as much as every fibre of his being rebelled at the idea of revealing such a weak spot, he wanted to help Caleb more. An urge that had grown stronger the more time they spent together. Something that leaked out into every aspect of his life like an invasion of weeds aided by Caduceus’ gentle coaxing across a barren wasteland.

“Would you like to hold Abbil?”

Caleb paused, blinking in confusion, “Abbil?”

Essek didn’t blame him, as much as there were rumours around the empire, there was plenty of propaganda against the dynasty. Propaganda they’d used to their advantage. It wasn’t well known beyond the borders that those of the dynasty, just as their counterparts in the empire, had daemons. Many were under the misconception that Drow especially had none. And Essek’s own daemon was well hidden at all times.

This would be the first time he’d admitted to having, let alone naming, his daemon to an outsider. He trusted Caleb but that didn’t stop the urge to take back his words, to deny and distract. Abbil rubbed one of her furry legs along the back of his neck comfortingly before she took the initiative as usual and poked her way out from under his collar, blinking her many big black eyes at Caleb.

“If your cat tries anything I’m sending him back to the Fey wild,” the tarantula grumbled, already scuttling across the back of the sofa to Caleb.

Caleb chuckled, the sound thick with emotion that Essek wouldn’t name or draw attention to for Caleb’s own dignity. The first touch of one of Abbil’s legs against Caleb’s neck sent an electric shiver down Essek’s spine. Something he couldn’t even attempt to hide.

“Uncomfortable?” Caleb asked with a sad smile, clearly expecting Essek to take Abbil back.

“Unexpected,” Essek settled on, trying to ignore the heat high in his cheeks and low in his belly. It reminded Essek of the time Caleb’s hand had accidentally landed high on his thigh as he ranted about a newly released thesis in transmutation. Essek could recall nothing of that discussion but he could tell you in great detail how warm Caleb’s hand was, the way he squeezed his thigh whenever his temper rose as though to anchor himself from standing and pacing. Essek would never admit to how badly he wanted Caleb to squeeze enough to leave a mark, leaving little fingerprints of deep purple for him to admire later. He hadn't, of course, always gentle to a maddening degree with him, but the desire had lingered long afterwards and had taken several days to shake.

“You do not have to -“

“Unexpected but not uncomfortable,” Essek quickly cut off, least Caleb martyr himself by moving away from Abbil and taking the delightful crackling feeling with him.

“No offence mein schatz but you do not look comfortable,” Caleb argued.

“It is not uncomfortable in the way you think…” Essek mumbled embarrassed, shifting in his seat to alleviate certain frictions…or perhaps heighten them.

“How…oh,” Caleb’s cheeks darkened quickly.

“Quite,” Essek cleared his throat.

“Idiots,” Abbil chastised as she burrowed under Caleb’s collar.

[awindylife-writes]

Voyage of the Damned Part 3

Relationships: the Doctor x reader, Astrid x reader (platonic), Astrid x Doctor (platonic)

Summary: Voyage of the Damned rewrite. The Doctor and you find yourselves on the Titanic, space edition. You meet Astrid and get ready for a wonderful day, but then a meteor shower hits the ship and it starts falling towards Earth.

Author's notes: There was a number of things l didn't like about this Christmas special so again, l rewrote it.

Warnings: a ship crashes, multiple mentions of dearth bc a lot of people die, Astrid dies

"It's for the Doctor!" Astrid yelled at Midshipman Frame over the comms. She needed to teleport NOW. "Y/n and him are down on deck thirty-one, alone, against all the Host and Gods know what else and they're doing it for us!" Silence on the other end. "It's time we did something for them," she ended her speech with a finallity.

A moment passed and she feared she'd failed.

But then, "Giving you power," came through the comms.

~

"Only one person could have the power and the money to hide themselves on board like that. And l should know, 'cause..." the Doctor trailed off. You stared at the strange compartment you had found on deck thirty-one.

"My name is Max," a voice finished for him. A strange machine with a head in it came through the smoke.

"Who the hell are you?" it demaned.

"I'm y/n, and this is the Doctor," you pointed at your friend with false cheerfulness, "Hello!" you wiggled your fingers in greeting.

~

"You wreck the ship and the board find their shares halved in value." The Doctor was spelling out Capricorn's plan.

"But that's not enough," you interjected. From what you've learned about them, mad billionares who were losing all their money didn't do things half-way.

"Oh yes,"  the Doctor went on. "'Cause if a Max Capricorn ship hits the Earth, it destroys an entire planet. Outrage back home!" he growled. "Scandal! The buisness is wiped out!"

The billionare's head nodded. "And? The whole board is thrown in jail, for mass murder!" His eyes shone with revenge.

"While you sit here, safe in the- what's it called?" you turned to the Doctor.

"Impact camber," he filled in.

"I have men," Capricorn gloated now, "waiting to retreave me from the ruins. And enough off-world accounts to retire me to the beaches of Enhaxico Two where the ladies, so l'm told, are very fond of... metal."

You were going to puke.

"So that's the plan," the Doctor growled in rage. "A retirement plan. Two thousand people on this ship, six billion underneath us, all of them slaughtered and why? Because Max Capricorn is a loser."

"I never lose," the billionare's head scowled in threat and your voice immediately rang out, mocking, "You can't even sink the Titanic!"

"Oh but l can, pretty girl!" he laughed. "I can cancel the engines, from here!" Red lights and alarms were suddenly flaring everywhere before you could spit in his face.

The Doctor yelled behind you, "You can't do this!"

"Host, hold them!" Caprocorn ordered in turn and began the Gloat 2.0. "Not so clever now, are you? Shame we couldn't work together, you two are rather good. All that banter and yet not a word wasted." The head sighed. "Time for me to... retire."

Ugh, you thought as you furiously tried to get free. That pun alone would be enough to kill a buisness.

"The Titanic is falling, the sky will burn, let the Christmas inferno commence!" Capricorn yelled in victory and called his minions. "Kill them!"

The robots brought up their halos and went for the Doctor's neck.

"NO!" You fought with everything you had but you were late, you'd be too late!

"MISTER CAPRICORN!" a voice you knew cut through your fear.

And it ignited terror. It was Astrid, sitting in a forklift. "I resign," she told the head and drove forward, ful throttle.

"NO!" the Doctor and you screamed, "ASTRID STOP!" "ASTRID DON'T!"

She didn't listen and rammed into the life support system, but its engine was too strong. They were equal and couldn't move each other.

You bit, kicked and screamed, anything to get free.

But then she caught your eyes with hers and everything stopped. There was an eternity in her face. She looked at the Doctor too but you still stared at her.

Then she turned away and stepped on it. The life support lifted and she drove on.

There was no sound. The world was mute as you watched Astrid go over.

You were suddenly at the edge, looking at her disappear into the fire. Someone was screaming. Someone was screaming and you wanted to calm them, help them.

Then you realized it was your own voice.

The world came back into focus. The ship was falling apart and the Doctor was silent at your side. He was staring at the spot where Astrid had disappeared. His face was pale and his eyes blank. You laid your tears aside and took his hand.

"We need to go," you told him, your voice wet with tears. He didn't move.

"Doctor, we need to go,"  you told him again calmly. You thought that was why he looked at you suddenly, and then stood up.

He rewired a Host with lightning speed. It took you each under one arm and off you went.

When you broke through the ceiling of the bridge, you were still in one piece. Arms you had used to shield your head were a bit bloody and you were sure there were at least two splinters in them. You don't look the gift horse in the mouth, even though you would prefer a different Christmas miracle.

"What's your first name?" the Doctor asked the injured Midshipman Frame.

He answered in confusion, "Alonzo."

"You're kidding," the Doctor breathed as a shocked smile spread on his face. You didn't know. You just didn't know anymore. You were drowing in the emptiness inside you but his name was Alonzo.

"Allons-y, Alonzo!" the Doctor yelled and you held on tight. You didn't scream. You didn't even open your mouth. There was nothing anymore.

The Doctor whoohooed when he managed to right the course of the ship and you were just there. Were you there? Astrid wasn't. And that was what mattered in the end.

~

"TELEPORT!" the Doctor yelled and it didn't matter. "Y/N, SHE WAS WEARING A TELEPORT BRACELET!!!"

That woke you up. You ran faster than ever before, to the main deck where the teleport was.

"Brixton, sonic," the Doctor demanded from the billionare and caught it as it was thrown. "Mister Copper, the teleports, have they got an emergency setting??"

"I don't know, they should have?"

"She fell, Mister Copper, she fell!" the Doctor told him while pulling apart the machine like a madman. "What's the emergency code?"

The billionare interjected, "What the hell are you doing?"

"We can bring her back!" you yelled with everything in you.

The historian explained, "If a passenger has an accident on shore leave, their molecules are automatically suspended so they're in stasis, so if you just trigger the shift..."

"THERE!!!" the Doctor screamed and flicked the switch.

And there was your Astrid.

"Falling..." You could hear her voice!

"Only halfway there, come on!" The Doctor wasn't finished with the teleporter.

"I keep falling!" She was scared. Your friend was scared and you wanted nothing but to calm her. You carefully walked up to her and took hold of her hand. It felt like holding warm smoke.

There were tears on your cheeks already, again.

"If l can find the molecule grid, boost the restoration matrix and-" The computer snapped and threw sparks. "NO-NO-NO-NO-NO!!" the Doctor screamed in desparation, "need more phase containment-"

You sobbed, but you knew what was coming. You just looked at your Astrid Pith, into her crystal blue eyes and sushed her. "Hey, hey Astrid, it's alright. It's me, it's y/n, remember? You're alright. l've got you," you promised with a voice as soft as sunlight.

She didn't look as scared as before. Then, so slowly you thought you were imagining it, she looked at you.

"Let her go," you could hear the historian and you sobbed again.

But then Astrid's voice cut through. "Stop me falling?" she asked and you nodded. You found her gaze with yours and promised her, "Anything."

"She's just atoms," you heard Mister Copper from behind you. "An echo with a ghost of consciousness."

"She's stardust," you concluded as your voice broke. "You hear that Astrid?" you asked, still looking into her blue eyes."You're stardust."

She didn't seem to hear, so you did the only thing you could think of.

"There's an old tradition," you told her and softly kissed her cheek. Then you kissed the other, and then her forehead.

"You dreamt of traveling," the Doctor came to stand beside you. You were still sobbing when you pulled away from her and you didn't try to stop. There was no one there you needed to save face for.

"Now you can travel forever," you told her. You knew what the Doctor would do, and your eyes didn't leave hers for a moment.

You heard him soothe her, "You're not falling Astrid."

"You're flying," you both said in one voice.

You watched as she floated away, through the window into the universe.

Then you turned to the Doctor and buried your face in his chest as you both cried.

~

"I transferred all my shares to Max Capricorn's rivals. It's made me rich," the billionare Brixton admitted, disbelieving.

You were empty, and you were tired. That was the only reason why you didn't tear this man limb from limb. Astrid was dead.

"Mister Copper," the Doctor's voice woke you up. "I think, you deserve one of these."

You turned around and saw him holding a teleport bracelet out to the historian. Then, after the latter took it, he slipped one on your wrist. He took your hand and suddenly you were standing in the snow.

~

"But l can have a house, and a garden and-" You couldn't help but smile a little. At least Mister Copper would be alright.

The Doctor yelled after him, "Where are you going?"

"I have no idea!" the man replied in joy.

"Well, we don't either," your alien smiled gently at you and you tried to smile back, you really did. He looked at you, his brown eyes full of sorrow, and pulled you to him. You held onto him tightly as he hugged you.

"But! Y/N!" the historian yelled and you turned in his direction.

"I won't forget her," he promised you. You were tired, so so tired, so you just nodded. "Thank you," you told Mister Copper for her. "We won't either."

"We won't," the Doctor assured you softly, just to be sure.

Then he opened the TARDIS door and stepped into your home after you. You walked up the way and then stood in front of the controls, lost.

The Doctor walked up behind you and decided he would do anything, anything to keep away the blank look in your eyes. He turned to you and pulled you to him again. You let him, your movements sluggish and dazed.

"I've got you," he assured you. "I've got you, y/n. You aren't alone, and you aren't lost. You've got me." And that was enough. You sobbed into his chest, you didn't know for which time today.

But this was different. This was yours, and you clung to the Doctor as everything in you came to the surface.

His tears joined yours. He'd lost Astrid too, and he hated seeing you in pain. He slowly brought both of you down to kneel when you were too tired to stand.

And that was it. That was what you needed and that was what you had. You would be alright. In time, you would be alright.