#and yes it is ELF dust

[fanaticsnail]

Pretty Bird - Part 2

Masterlist here

Word count: 2,065 Part 1

Synopsis: you nursed back to health and injured raven that was found in the canopy of your cottage. The raven was a shifted Avariel fae, a creature of myth and legend, and the new lord of Kuraigana. He is extremely smitten with you, and doesn't know the adequate customs to court you. All he knows and feels is you are his mate, and he wants you.

Themes: fae!Mihawk x human!reader, raven!Mihawk x f!reader (can be read as gn, no gendered terms used).

Notes: prompts based on this ask by 🪶 Anon. Header picture made by me using OPLA's Yoru and doctored stock images. We're leaning in on a bit of hybrid au stuff. Mihawk is a winged, elf-like creature that can shift into a raven and human form - but he is most comfortable being a winged humanoid with dark feathers and talon-like fingernails.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23 @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @nerium-lil

It wasn't quite the grandiose hallways and intricate ornamentation you had experienced once upon long ago. The high keep was, for all other words considered, gloomy. The light was dull, the curtains barely parted, and the lengthy leading carpet had begun to fray at the edges from ill-maintenance and neglect over the years.

The single room in the entire manor that caused your heart to flutter was the one you had reminisced with your pretty bird at your inherited cottage. The gallery was in full bloom, the curtains clipped and dusted with a place for everything, and everything in its place.

A large amassment of individuals were wandering and chattering within the halls, eyeglasses drawn up their faces and assessing the finery with criticism in their snarls. The group which were invited to the grand premier of the reopening were some that you had not seen prior, and many local dignitaries you had dealings with in your cottage.

You assumed you were here as a civilian observer, like some of the others, to give the new lord of Kuraigana a reputation of hospitality and humility. Truth be told, you did not care you were to be used as a ruse. All that seemed to matter was finding that one painting you recounted from the days of your youth.

Spotting a long since forgotten painting of your childhood, you felt the wonderment warm and swell in your chest as soon as you laid eyes on it. Your land, your hometown, a field of wildflowers shrouding your familial home with two figures sitting on a hanging swing off on a hollowed willow tree. The figure on the swing was looking up, just as a winged creature with a humanoid face was smiling down.

This was the picture you imagined when you spoke with the wounded raven in your cottage. There was something in the way the two subjects looked at each other, their hearts swelling in their eyes, as joy was depicted on their lips. Two creatures from different worlds just as captivated with the other as the other was with them.

As you leaned in closer to the image, you felt a presence behind you with their dark shadow cascading your form with their silhouette.

“Do you enjoy this one, then?” their vocal cadence was difficult to read, but their presence felt intimidating. You turned to face the figure, and curtseyed low to them with your eyes fallen to the ground.

“This painting holds meaning for me, yes, sir,” you rise from your curtsey, keeping your gaze held firmly to their dark, leather boots as you rose back to full stature. They stepped forward in a single stride, puncturing your border of personal comfort and towering over you.

“Can you explain it to me, so as to grant me a greater understanding of such a piece?” their voice purred down at you. The scent of their cologne felt familiar to you, as did the subtle pattern in their flowing cloak over their shoulders.

Softly floating your gaze to their features, you hovered over their unique, angular facial hair and bit back your nerves.

“The prior lord of this house was known for his admiration and appreciation for the fae-folk,” you spoke, attempting to maintain your calm demeanor while feeling intimidated by the man towering over you, “Many seem to enjoy the fables and tales of old. Hearing the joy of a world far from our own, whether written on written paper or depicted on canvas, is an accessible binding that draws people of all creed and color together.”

You float your eyes up to meet his, the amber hue of his gaze piercing you like a blade and seeming to goad you into speaking more on the subject.

“And the fae?” his challenging tone almost made you recoil, but you held your ground and attempted to avoid his gaze as he spoke down his nose at you, “Do they not frighten you?”

“Truth be told, sir,” you quickly bobbed a polite curtsey as you continued, “I feel I do not have enough experience on the matter to fear them.” You turn back to the painting, focussing on the gaze of the young Avariel beaming down at their human counterpart on the swing, “I appreciate them from afar, but I am yet to truly meet one.” The man hums in deep thought, slowly turning their own attention back to the painting while sitting in silence beside you.

After several moments of studying the painting, you turn to your guest and curtsey once more to the individual with a shy smile tugging at your lips.

“I fear it's getting rather late for me, sir. I best be getting home and tending to my homestead,” you nod to the sun beginning to fall behind the swirling landscape of curling mountains, “It is a lengthy trek home.”

“You arrived here on foot?” his voice seemed to be taken aback, “Do you not have horses, or some mule to pull a carriage? A cart with two goats, a saddle for a swine-?” You broke his train of thought with a soft, melodical giggle. He halted his words, listening to your laugh and slowly offering his own alongside it.

“Forgive me, sir,” you stifle your soft laugh, slowly biting back any further humor in your tone, “Some of us more common people can not afford the luxury to own such things. This is the furthest I've ventured of late, and I do wish to make it back before nightfall.”

Before you had the opportunity to flee from his sights, he swooped down and claimed your arm in the crook of his left elbow and held you there while slowly whispering down at you.

“You will allow me to escort you from the gallery and towards the door,” he was firm in his tone, but his poised elegance seemed to put you at ease. As he began to take a step to walk with you, he froze in place as you spoke to him.

“I feel like there should be a ‘please’ in there somewhere,” you offer him a nervous giggle and gently nod your head to him, “I don't think you have a right to lord over me like some cruel tyrant, sir…?” you trailed off, attempting to meet his gaze.

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, a look that seemed somewhat familiar to you, but foreign atop his features. His amber eyes seemed to hold a challenge within them as the corner of his lip ticked up.

“Lord Dracule Mihawk,” he offered you freely, raising his right hand to circle over your knuckles clasping his left elbow, “And, would you please allow me to escort you from the gallery towards the door?”

Something between a squeak and a gasp caught itself within your throat as you failed to find the words to respond to him with. The man at your side was the mysterious host you were curious about, and you had been conversing with him so openly you didn't spare a thought as to whom he was.

As he lead you silently through the quiet halls towards the door, he gently coaxed you through the threshold and gracefully spun you to face him within the archway. He stooped down towards you, and gently reached up to preen at a fallen strand of your hair to tuck it behind your ear.

“Should you need to borrow a horse, I would gladly provide you with one from my stables,” he uttered, gently caressing the crown of your head and scanning over your features without meeting your eyes. “I have a few to choose from, alongside a personal carriage or cart should you ever need one.” He finally met your eyes, looking down at you as your gaze was intense with eyes wide and in shock.

The lord of Kuraigana was shuffling your hair with such familiarity, it immediately drew up and rose every alarm in your mind. Why was he doing this? What motivation would he have to press his hands into you, and toy with you in such a way? You were a commoner amongst a den of lords and ladies, why you?

“I have no formal training in cart rearing, my lord,” you nodded your head to bob your hair from his clutches, “Nor do I desire to have you part with a horse on my behalf.” Stepping away, his hand hovers where contact was priorly met against your skin and hair. “Thank you for your hospitality, this is where I take my leave from you, my lord.”

Bowing in a low curtsey, you chose to walk from him without waiting a further dismissal from him due to the fluster his intimidating aura rose to you. As soon as you were out of sight, you breathed out a sigh of relief and gazed up into the first light of purple stars greeting the pastel purples and pinks over Kuraigana.

“I am such a fool.”

Both yours and Mihawk’s lips shared the same sentiment, feeling truly imbicilic in the interaction you had with one another not moments ago. For you, your embarrassment came from speaking so freely about childhood fantasies to the man who lords over you. For Mihawk, it was another aspect entirely.

“My mate hates me,” he whispered to the walls of his keep, “My mate fears me and recoils from my touch.” He gazed down at his hands, witnessing the first release of talons protruding from his fingertips in response to holding a human-passing form for so long.

As soon as he left your cottage once he was healed, he was attempting to find a way to welcome you into his home. While he understood that humans have kindness for one another in times of need, and compassion for injured animals, at the first offence of aid from you in his raven form, he knew it was you. You were his, and he was yours.

He needed you, craved you to know how desperately he wanted you in his high keep. The understanding on the intricacies of human clourtships was sadly lacking in his regard, but he knew he needed to try to win you over.

If you were an avarial, a changeling, or a shifter of the fae folk like he was, he knew he could express his desires and make his wanting known by preening and grooming you. He would nest for you, fill it with your scent matched with his, and welcome you into it while nestled against one another. Should he wish to make the match permanent, which he considered the notion the moment you began to converse with him as a man, he would dance for you to showcase his skills as a reveered fighter and exceptional provider.

Witnessing the fluster on your face at the moment he attempted to groom you left him feeling deflated and dejected. The rejection of his mate, the one he sorely wanted for himself, had him frustrated and desiring to know if you truly were rejecting him, or if this was an action lost in the courtship discorse of fae folk and humans.

He would never be able to get close to you as the lord of Kuraigana, your lord and ruler over your land. He would absolutely not desire for you to see him in his radiant glory, as half-shifted into his more comfortable form as a winged humanoid. He was assured you would turn from him in fear.

But as a raven? You liked him as a raven. You praised him as a raven. You scratched his chin, offered him meat, and spoke to him as a raven. He could listen to you as a raven. As your raven: your pretty bird.

Giving his shoulders a gentle shimmy, his cloak sprung to life and revealed his darkened wings as his form began to shrink into his smaller avarian form. The golden hue of his watchful eyes remained as intense as they searched for you on the pathway leading to your cottage.

He needed to know. Were you interested in such a courtship with a beast like him, or were you simply one of the kinder varieties of mortals? He shook his wings to take flight, his intense gaze was fixed on your form as the soft sunset became a gentle dusk and faded into a blue, cloudless night.

[sebbianas]

At the start of his 6th year, Regulus stood alone in front of the train.

He watched parents and children have tearful goodbye, watched friends greet each other with hugs and cheerful wave, watched the whole place be filled with love and there he was alone.

The wise thing to do is to get in the train and take compartment for himself but he stood there stuck. His parents thought he was old enough to be on his own, not even Kreacher could accompany him. He sure would miss the little elf more than he would his parents.

Regulus gripped his trunk tighter, his knuckles almost turning white because of it. He didn’t want this loneliness to accompany him into the train, didnt want the coldness of his heart to travel with him to Hogwarts. He’s not even sure why he craved a warmth his parents would never give. What the point of longing for something you’ll never have?

“Train’s about to leave, dear!” A voice cut through his dark aura. “Best to get in before you lose any good sit.”

Regulus looked to his side and froze. Standing to his left was none other than Euphemia Potter and her husband Fleamont. The warmth that radiated from them almost burned Regulus but he didn’t mind one bit, if to feel this love is to burn then he would gladly turn into ashes. He looked around to see if his brother and the son of the wonderful couple was nearby—

“Don’t worry about the boys.” Fleamont said suddenly. “They boarded the train as soon as they saw Remus and Peter.”

“Oh.” Was all Regulus could say. He’s not sure if he’s permitted to say more.

“Now,” Effie said, breaking the ice cold silence. She dusted his shoulders off, straightened his coat, brushed her warm fingers against his cold cheeks. “You look very handsome, dear. Try not to be closed off this school year. Make sure you have some fun, alright?”

“—Not too much fun though!” Monty added quickly. “But then again, you have always been more careful than your brother so I have no doubt you wont get caught should you have too much fun—”

“Dont you forget to eat! I know you and your tendency to get lost in that book of yours so do remember to put the book down once in a while and nibble on some sweets, yes?” Effie continued on.

Regulus couldn’t do anything but nod. He was afraid of what might happen should he open his mouth, tears falling down controllably was definitely one of the scenarios.

“Good.” Effie said, a brilliant beautiful smile on his face. “Off you go, my darling. Have a good school year.”

Regulus nodded once more. He was tempted to drop his belongings and pull the wonderful parents into a hug but he knows that would be too much. He simply smiled at them, a small once, one he doesn’t direct at anyone that much, and walked to the train. Before getting inside he looks back and sees them still smiling and waving at him.

A warmth in his heart resided and refused to leave throughout the whole ride.

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 4. The best of all possible worlds

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: smut, wet and messy oral sex (m receiving and regretting it), femdom, sub!Feyd, a bit of cock and ball torture, begging, cumplay, choking, somewhat noncon, BGSM (Bene Gesserit Sado Masochism)

— WORDCOUNT: 2.7k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine​ @localravenclaw

Humans are born with a susceptibility to that most persistent and debilitating disease of intellect: self-deception. The best of all possible worlds and the worst get their dramatic colouration from it.

— Bene Gesserit Coda

Feyd was breathless. Kneeling before him, as wild and soft as the dust clouds of Arrakis, was a girl with his blood on her lips. She worked his armour off as swiftly as if she herself had worn it and left him naked on the bed while she tugged his boots and trousers off. Her gaze lingered for a moment on his cock, her attention and the cold air of the room kissing its surface. It twitched, yearning for something, straining up toward her with shyness. Her lips curled deliciously before she looked into his eyes again. Feyd swallowed the knot in his throat and moaned.

Her palm travelled up his arm with, deceitfully gentle, caressing the pain that still travelled through it, while her tongue lapped at the wound on his hand. Her eyes, shadowed by dark lashes, looked up into his own, and his heart stuttered. At that moment, he could ask for nothing more from his witch.

He raised a hand to cup her cheek and for a moment felt the way the muscles in her jaw worked as she licked him — an intoxicating feeling — but then she grabbed his wrist and pushed it away from her. It surprised him, angered him, and delighted him… Unlike the other Bene Gesserit he’d met, she did not use her voice to control him, she just used her body. A warrior in her own right.

“Is this your Gom Jabbar,” he giggled between hisses of pain. “Is this your box? That pretty mouth?”

She smiled around his flesh and lifted herself on her knees, slinking up toward him.

“Would you like it to be?”

Feyd looked into her eyes and saw in them everything he wanted to see. All of her attention was on him. Her every breath was breathed for him. He’d never felt more alive than in that moment.

“Yes.”

She smiled and lowered her lips to his chest. Between his legs, he could feel her hands go to her belt, uncoiling it, then heard the soft thud as her dress pooled at her feet. He started breathing faster, excited at the prospect of seeing all of her, but she just pushed him lower, lower on the bed, and crawled above him. Her lips caressed his skin, her tongue teased it, and when she moved her attention to the divot at the centre of his chest he felt her suckle on the drops of sweat there.

“Dirty witch,” he purred.

“Dirty master.”

Feyd let his head lean back and chuckled. She flattened her tongue on his skin, dragging it up to his neck, and lapped against the beating of his pulse.

“Water is precious on Arrakis,” she whispered. “It is life itself.”

He shivered, hands fisting in the sheets with pleasant memories. Each time he took a life in the arena, he took somebody’s soul, consumed it just as surely as his darlings fed on flesh. And here she was, asking to do the same.

“Will you let me take it?” she purred. “Will you let me take your life, your water?”

He grinned a black-mouthed smile as he looked down at her, and found her gaze there, waiting.

“If you can manage,” he said with a cocked brow.

She smiled at him then, an unusual sight — hardly anyone smiled at a Harkonnen — and dipped down to kiss him. Her lips were dry but sweet, and gentler than anything he’d felt before or could remember. He frowned at being treated with such caring — as if she felt something for him. And then her kiss turned to a bite and her teeth sunk in his lower lip.

“Ow,” Feyd giggled, his arms coming up to hold her.

Her hands went gently to his shoulders. From there, they travelled the smooth path of his arms until she caught his wrists and, with unusually firm pressure, she set them right above his head. He felt her body, slick as a snake, settling down on him, her hot and naked skin rubbing against his in a way that made him wince. Her hair, like a curtain, fell down around his face, and for a moment Feyd was lost in the world she made for him. He looked at the shadows that fell around them both, at her smiling face in the centre, and he could easily imagine they were the only people in the universe.

She slinked in that feline way of hers — of all Bene Gesserits perhaps — and brushed her lips against his own on her way down. He reached up for another kiss but was too slow to catch it. Her mouth settled on his clavicle and bit down hard, then she bit and kissed and licked her way down until she reached his heart. It pounded against his ribs, trying to reach toward her. She trembled, her breath tickling his chest, and with a choked little moan, she caught his nipple in her mouth.

Feyd arched his back, groaning, and tried to lift his arms, but she had locked her grip on them in such a way that he found moving impossible. Her teeth closed around his small excited bud. The open kiss of her mouth surrounded the assault, and her tongue was there to lap at the tip of it while her teeth held it still.

“Harder,” he moaned — and she obeyed him. “Ah! Hahaha!” His cheeks hurt from how widely he was smiling. He couldn’t have even answered why. “Harder, witch. My darlings can do better than that.”

She released his arms but he didn’t even have a chance to move them before she slapped his face again. Feyd gasped, his head whipped to the left as pain sang up and down his cheek. She had hit him so hard that his teeth dug into his lip.

“You don’t talk of other women when you are with me,” she said, staring down at him as she straddled his waist. Her hair fell around her figure, veiling not much at all. Above his hardening cock, he could sense the barest hint of her, warm and dripping. “Do you understand?”

“No. Best teach me again,” he grinned. “Ah!”

She slapped him on the other side and let her weight down on him. Feyd didn’t even have a chance to get angry with her because now those soft feminine parts were caressing his cock while his whole face ached. He felt himself getting harder, manhood poking at the soft cleft of her ass. But she straddled him as if he were an object, a pillow she used for her pleasure.

“You’re insufferable,” she hissed, gripping his neck and leaning in. With a rolling of her hips that made him groan, she whispered, “A violent little whore, with a sensitive little cock.”

“Who are you calling little, woman?” he growled.

She chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”

Her nails scraped down his skin, leaving painful little welts behind, as she slinked down to her knees. Before Feyd could raise himself on his elbows, she dug her nails into his thigh and, with cloying slowness, her other hand curled around his cock.

Feyd looked down at her between his parted legs, excited to see her face so close to it, her mouth teasingly opened. She licked her lips and looked up into his eyes as her grip tightened, and for a moment she seemed afraid.

Her cheek rested on his other thigh, close to where it met his hip, and she moved her fist higher up his shaft.

“Softer,” Feyd rasped. “Don’t hold it so tight, you —”

“You need a firm grip,” she purred, “my lord na-Baron.”

With lidded eyes, she took in his expanse of body. His strong and hairless thighs, the sweat that gathered at the crux of them, the hint of his round cheeks beneath, and in her grip, her prize.

“You’re blushing,” she chuckled with an innocent smile. “You are so pale, but the tip is turning rosy. So beautiful. So cute...”

He wanted to growl. Nobody referred to him that way, even if it was true, but he couldn’t bring himself to care with her hands all over him. Hot breath tickled at his skin, making him all the more aware of where her attention was focused. She licked her lips as her hand roughly tugged upward. When she reached his head she pressed her thumb against his hole.

Feyd whimpered when he felt his cock weep a little drop for her, and from the way she looked, he almost expected her to kiss it. Her eyes travelled his length while her other hand uncurled its claws from him, leaving little half-moon shapes in pink and red. She brought it below, to where his heavy sac was hanging.

“You’d better not —” he started, but cut himself off with a trembling gasp when she brushed her tongue across his tip.

She looked into his eyes as he held himself up shakily, his arms braced on the bed behind him, but then her lids fell down in something almost serene as she let her lips cover his crown. Her fist held him firmly, too firmly, so hard that the blood couldn’t flow, but he could still feel her. Her mouth was warm and wetter than anything else on that planet, and the curtain of her hair covered almost all of her. Strands stuck to his sweaty thighs. Beneath, her fingers brushed against his sac in a light petting, feeling just the surface of his softest skin. It made his legs tremble. Feyd tried to raise his hips, to push himself into her, but she braced her arms above his thighs and held him down. He groaned, upset, incensed, and petulant.

Her grip went lower, all the way down to his root, pulling his pale skin out of the way. Her lips followed, taking more of him into her mouth. Her soft tongue lapped at the exposed and tender tip, and then she kissed it. One caress of her lips bled into the other as if she couldn’t get enough, and then she started nursing herself on it, suckling the wetness from his cock in a way that felt both careless and needy.

“Is that the water you want?” he rasped with a breathless chuckle. “Hm? That’s what you need?”

She only sucked harder, and her fingers cupped his balls. Feyd dragged in a sharp breath through his teeth as he started feeling himself throbbing. He whined, trying to thrust his hips upward. Whenever he tried, she pressed down against his hips and swallowed more of him, squeezing his length, pressing it against the roof of her mouth in a way that made him surrender. Suddenly, he felt the barest hint of teeth and panicked, but then her fingers caressed his churning sac in such a way that made him want to cry.

It was a remarkable contrast, one worthy of the sunset skies of Giedi Prime. Her mouth suckled harshly on his cock, teeth scraping against his skin while her lips kissed around it and her fist held him tight. Below, her fingers played with his heavily hanging balls, caressing them as if she held in her hand an animal she wanted to tame, and all the while his legs were spread by her body, trapping him in some way, rendering him more exposed than he had felt since… since…

“S-stop,” he muttered.

She didn’t. Her lips pulled away, exposing more of her teeth to the delicate skin of his cock, and with each drag upwards it scraped against him. Feyd cried out in a weak wavering voice that didn’t sound like him at all and his head fell back against his shoulders. He was throbbing so hard his cock was kicking in her mouth, but she moved as if she didn’t notice it. As if she didn’t care. She sucked the taste off him and squeezed the head so roughly he thought she just might rip it off.

“Oh fuck!” Feyd moaned, all the Harkonnen coarseness gone out of his voice to be replaced by a sound of smooth and deeply boyish silk. “Fuck, stop, stop, please…”

She swallowed more of him, drool dripping all around him, and between his legs, her claws started to close dangerously around his balls. The air was filled with sticky sounds and moaning, and the harsh breaths Feyd struggled with.

“I can’t,” he gasped. “I can’t keep going if you —”

With a purr at his sweet pleading, she sunk a little lower until her lips encircled halfway down his cock, and there she held him, still and quiet in her mouth. She scraped her nails against his tender sac, holding the swollen globes in her palm and, with a peaceful sigh, she pulled away from his stomach, holding his member firmly in her mouth as she rested her cheek against his thigh. She looked into his eyes with something of a challenge while she tugged on him with long, hard suckles. Feyd couldn’t help but look back at her lovely face and shudder.

His legs spread wider to accommodate her and across his chest, he felt her fingers trailing up toward his neck until she grasped it. Feyd bit his lip and moaned as she started squeezing harder — around his manhood, around his sac, around his neck to cut his breath off — and he couldn’t hold it anymore.

“That feels… Oh! Y-you’re going to m-make me cum,” he whimpered, his voice sounding low and sad.

His hips thrust upward, his whole body yearning for her, wanting nothing more than to be in her, but she stayed steadily on him as if they were one. Her face rested peacefully against his thigh, lips nursing on his leaking, throbbing cock, and with one more encouraging brush of her nails against his tensing balls she got him to spill into her mouth.

“Aaah! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck —”

Feyd’s whole body trembled, his arms no longer worked, and through the haze of pleasure he felt her hand squeeze even tighter around his throat. He fell back on the bed, head thrashing back and forth, while his balls pushed his seed up the pulsing column of his manhood and straight into her mouth. With a moan at every jet of cum, she pulled it out of him until he was too sensitive and raw and licks of flame replaced the pleasure.

“Stop,” he moaned, “please stop…”

She let go of his throat at first, then she released his sac but kept her fingers there to brush against it, tickling its underside in a way that made his hips jump. Finally, she dragged her mouth off of his cock, all in one long parting suck that ended with a kiss.

With heavy breaths that filled the air around them, Feyd looked down at her — a living storm, a mess. Her cheeks were blushing, her lashes matted with tears, her hair was a damp mess that stuck to her, and her lips… her lips were stained just slightly black. With an imperious stare that suited her, and a little smile, she raised herself on steady arms until she hovered at his stomach, and shamelessly she let his cum spill from her mouth.

“W-what are you —”

She hadn’t swallowed a drop of it. His seed pooled across his stomach, warm from being held so long inside his balls and then inside her mouth, but quickly chilling, stinging where it hit the open scratches. He looked up at her with a hint of anger first, then sadness. Was he not good enough for her?

Silkily, she brushed her hand through the mess she’d just made, painting his own stomach with his cum, and had the nerve to look quite pleased with the result.

“I t-thought… I thought you wanted my w-water,” he stuttered, cocking a brow weakly at her.

She smiled, resting her soft tired head against her shoulder, and played in the mess of cum and sweat upon his tensing stomach.

“I think it looks better on you,” she said, “my lord na-Baron.”

[vixstarria]

Vix, gimme an interaction between Wyll and Astarion. Where Astarion is like yo quit trying to steal my girl. But in his Astarion-y way that you write so well! <3

Congrats on 1000 followers my friend!

My pleasure, here's what I came up with:

Bonus Astarion POV scene following Seeing stars:

Earlier this evening you’d finally pulled her aside, confessing your lies and manipulation. Laying bare more details about your past. Fully expecting that to be the end of whatever it was you had with her.  

And yet, despite all odds, she stayed. She wasn’t even angry with you. Something was definitely wrong with her. Delightfully, maddeningly so.  

The proverbial shoe would inevitably drop sooner or later – this was too good to be true. But until then, you could allow yourself more of these impossible moments of comfort and happiness.  

You now stalked the camp, trying to find something to occupy yourself with. You’d been doing your utmost to avoid following her around like a lovesick puppy. After all, now you knew she would be back in your arms again later tonight. And you wouldn’t need to do anything but hold her. 

You caught sight of Wyll. An irritated anger still seethed in you after the stunt he had pulled yesterday. He had managed to avoid you all day, having stayed back in camp. 

He was sparring with Lae’zel, trying to teach her how to use a rapier. She was arguing, perhaps justifiably, that she didn't see the point in poking small holes in someone when she could simply cut them in half with a greatsword.  

On an impulse, you approached.  

“A moment with your sparring mate, if you don’t mind,” you directed at Lae’zel. She motioned you to go ahead, with a knowing look.  

Before Wyll could react you swiftly kicked his legs out from under him, simultaneously grabbing him by a horn and catching him in a headlock.  

“I heard you’re not too fond of the horns. Rest assured, I will assist you in breaking them off should you touch what does not belong to you again.” 

Lae’zel stood back observing, arms crossed, with an amused expression on her face, as Wyll scuttled, kicking up dust, trying to keep his balance.  

“You are right, and I apologise! I was caught up in the moment and not thinking straight,” Wyll gritted through his teeth. Trying to keep the peace and stay amicable even now. How dull. 

“Yes, I’m sure you were quite caught up in the moment you had orchestrated.” You dropped him in the dirt. “Just don’t do it again,” you said, starting to walk away.  

“Would you have pulled his hair if you could grasp it?” 

Apparently the scuffle had merited a rare smile from Lae’zel.  

“Honestly... Probably, yes,” you said without slowing down, as you walked past her. It wasn’t too long ago that Tav mentioned that Lae’zel herself had propositioned her recently, and you were not about to get into an altercation with the githyanki. 

“You have already mastered biting, but have you considered scratching as a tactic?” she called out after you.  

Over two centuries old, and reduced to fistfights over your lover, like a grease-faced adolescent.  

It was mere days ago that you socked Gale in the nose for referring to Tav as your ‘livestock’. He still sported a bruise and steered clear of you. 

Had you gotten into fights over love interests in your youth, you wondered. You scoured your memory for anything that might ring a bell, but came well short of any images. Some ghost of a feeling whispered faintly in your mind. Despair at... being rejected? Excluded? Were there several people involved at once..? The memory came up as a sour aftertaste of melancholy and dejection. It must have been sharp once, for any remnant to survive for over 200 years. You didn’t try to pursue it further. 

You rounded a corner to see Tav talking with that mountain of an elf named Halsin.  

Did you truly just overhear them talking about how large he is..? 

Ha! But also, really? Sigh... Fuck my unlife... 

You would deal with that later, if it ever came to that. You kept walking. 

You glanced at Shadowheart. The cleric was praying in her corner of the campsite, as she was wont to do more and more often in her spare time, of late. When had she approached Tav, anyway, you wondered. Must have been back at the tiefling party. Hardly a threat anymore.  

What now?  

You spotted Karlach stargazing near her excuse of a tent.  

You grabbed a bottle of wine you found palatable from one of the supply crates and made your way towards the tiefling.  

“Karlach! My best friend, my pal. My home-girl, my rotten soldier. My sweet cheese, my good-time gal.” * 

“Are you okay there, fangs?” she gave you an apprehensive look.  

“Never been better! A game of cards, now that you can hold them yourself?” 

There. You could have normal, friendly interactions with your companions too.  

“Alright. But I’ll punch you every time I catch you cheating.” 

“Fair.” 

Absolutely normal.  

*Sorry, I couldn’t resist, the Lazlo quote plagues me.  

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Charlie: “So this is what a full hotel looks like…”

Vaggie: “Think it’ll survive until Extermination day?”

Charlie: “I don’t know if I’LL survive to Extermination day.”

Vaggie: “Aww, babe.”

Charlie: “Seriously, who keeps ordering pizza??? We all already KNOW the cannibals will just skip it and try chewing on the poor delivery person!”

Vaggie: “My bet’s on Angel Dust. He’s not exactly thrilled the place got filled up with ‘shit smiling judgmental prudes.’”

Charlie: “Whyyy didn’t I remember the cannibals have a whole dress-code thingy?”

Vaggie: “They are being polite about it though.”

Charlie: “They keep eyeing Angel Dust’s exposed thighs like they’re chicken wings.”

Vaggie: “And if they wanted to eat him up in any other way, he’d be thrilled.”

Charlie: (growling) “Some of them keep looking at YOUR thighs as if they were-”

Vaggie: “Anything other than property of Charlie Morningstar?”

Charlie: “-Vaggie they want to TEAR YOU APART!”

Vaggie: “And they’re not actually trying it, which is polite, even if they’re still talking about how angels might taste whenever I’m in the room.”

Charlie: (pout) “You taste good.”

Vaggie: “Not like that, babe.”

Charlie: “How could the rest of you not taste good too??”

Vaggie: “Ask the cannibals. Meat flavors based on where the meat thing lived and what it ate, something something- What if angel steaks taste like artificial food coloring?”

Charlie: “I like those-!”

Vaggie: "I know." (laughing) “Maybe that’s another reason why you’re the woman of my dreams.”

Charlie: “Am I?”

Vaggie: “The one and only.”

Charlie: “You’d never… think about leaving me for someone else?”

Vaggie: “NO?”

Charlie: “Someone a little more badass maybe?”

Vaggie: “Not possible. You called heaven out for being total bullshit. In a song.”

Charlie: “Maybe someone you had an instant and deep connection with?”

Vaggie: “Like the woman that bandaged my eye socket and took me home with her and nursed me through physical and emotional hell all because she also thought sinners might be people worth caring about?”

Charlie: “Well what about someone who… is just better? At the whole. Everything.”

Vaggie: “Literally who. Who the fuck-”

Charlie: “Carmilla?”

Vaggie: “Car-hhhhHHH." (chokes)

Vaggie: "AHAHAHAHAH! Charlie! WHAT!?”

Charlie: “She’s cool. She’s one of those, those muffin things right? Angel Dust said-”

Vaggie: “A milf, sweetie. It’s milf and PLEASE also listen to Husk’s reality checks whenever Angel Dust opens his well meaning but dumb as shit whore mouth.”

Angel Dust: (distantly) “My HOT and SEXY whore mouth heard that, toots!”

Vaggie: (yelling back) “Then go stick a dick in it!”

Angel Dust: “I’m tryin’~”

Charlie: (used to this) (ignoring them) “So the whole private training battle song thing was, not a turn on for you? At all?”

Vaggie: “If I ever call Carmilla Carmine ‘mommy’ it’ll be because she just signed my adoption papers.”

Charlie: “Oh! Okay! Juuuust wanted to check.”

Charlie: “…..”

Charlie: “Are you gonna ask about me and the head-to-heart I had with-”

Vaggie: “No.”

Charlie: “-because I was literally thinking about you the whole time-“

Vaggie: (smile) “That just took a perfectly non-worrying thing and made it sound bad.”

Charlie: “Is there a thing like a- an elf??”

Vaggie: “Aunt you’d like to fuck?”

Charlie: “Well not ME personally. But Rosie is very impressive.”

Vaggie: “You looked more impressed up in heaven.”

Charlie: “Huh? Heaven??”

Vaggie: “Nothing- never mind. I do actually have a lady-related question for you though.”

Charlie: “What does heaven have to do with- what?”

Vaggie: “I think I’m in love.”

Charlie: “WHAT!?”

Vaggie: “She’s ripped out my heart and I want to thank her for it.”

Charlie: “Th-thh that’s wait how when-?”

Vaggie: “Charlie.”

Charlie: “-y, yes?”

Vaggie: “Can we keep inviting Susan over, even after Extermination day?”

Charlie: “…”

Charlie: “Susan.”

Vaggie: “Charlie please? Please? She's the granny I don't deserve and desperately need in my life. Please please please please-”

Charlie: “But, Vaggie- She HATES everyone!”

Vaggie: “I know!”

Charlie: “And she SAYS it!?”

Vaggie: “And it’s so fucking cool.”

Charlie: “She said you dress like a hooker!”

Vaggie: “Angel Dust was furious. I think he would’ve thrown a punch at her, in defense of hookers everywhere, if Husk hasn’t grabbed him.”

Charlie: “A LAZY hooker!”

Vaggie: “That one hit home and I’ll cherish it’s sting forever.”

Charlie: “She’s not NICE. She doesn’t even PRETEND to be nice like the other cannibals do!”

Vaggie: “Isn’t that great?” (grinning) “She’s like, the anti-Alastor….”

Charlie: (sigh)

Charlie: “I guess… being brutally, painfully, rudely honestly about your feelings is… not the worst thing someone can be.”

Vaggie: “YES! Can we adopt the creepy old mean lady?”

Charlie: “She can visit. We are NOT inviting her to LIVE here.”

Vaggie: (smiling)

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: (drooping) “…not unless she wants to.”

Vaggie: “Thanks, sweetie.” (kiss) “She never would. She hates us all and especially the hotel. Ask her and she’ll tell you, in detail, how all our decorating ideas are terrible and she’s only here to grab the free snacks, shove some angel leftovers in her basket, and then fuck off to her own perfect home back in Cannibal Town.”

Charlie: “So why scare me like that by asking? SUSAN in the attic! Ughghgh…”

Vaggie: “’cause it’s nice hearing you’d be open to it anyway.”

Charlie: “Mmrmph.”

Vaggie: “I like remembering that you’re like this.”

Charlie: “Whipped marshmallow.”   

Vaggie: "That Angel Dust again?"

Charlie: "Maybe."

Vaggie: "I've got a better word for you."

Charlie: "Like 'girlfriend?"

Vaggie: “Like amazing.”

Charlie: (snorts) (smiles) "Heh. Alright, flattery accepted."

Vaggie: "My wonderfully, adorably dramatic, heart stopping and breathtakingly passionate girlfriend, the most incredible person I've ever met, who-"

Charlie: (laughing) “Now who’s being a sweetie?”

Vaggie: “Charlie, I’m seri- whoah!”

Niffty: (lifting up floor board vaggie was standing on and peeking up at them) “Hey guys!”

Charlie: “Niffty!” (hug lifting vaggie to safety) “W- hi! Um! What is it?”

Niffty: “A bad day not to wear underwear!”

Vaggie: “And a good day to Die.”

Niffty: "I WISH!" (GIGGLES) “News from the hotel gossip line! S.O.S from Husk- he says Angel Dust and some cannibals are fighting over who gets to put the new pizza delivery in their mouths while Cherri’s taking bets and also shots.”

Charlie: "Shots of alcohol?"

Niffty: "Laser gun!"

Charlie: "Nooooo I thought we'd cleaned up everything after Pen's last inventing spree!"

Niffty: "Missed one. She keeps missing too. She fried the pizza."

Vaggie: "Instead of?"

Niffty: (GRINS) "The pizza delivery person!"

Vaggie: “Ugh. We look away for Ten. Minutes.”

Charlie: “Well that’s not- that’s not TOO bad! At least Sir Pentious isn’t-”

Niffty: “His corpse is in the lobby.”

Charlie: “-right. Okay.”

Vaggie: “Why is he a corpse in the hotel lobby this time?”

Niffty: “The cannibals accidentally ate his tongue while he was trying to show Cherri how long it was and then he choked while proving he has no gag reflect and can unhinge his jaws.”

Charlie: “Oh.”

Niffty: “The cannibals want to snack on him again but Susan keeps yelling at them about ‘crumbling standards’ and ‘back in HER day-‘”

Vaggie: “I love her.”

Charlie: “I’m right here.”

Vaggie: “You kinda love her too right now.”

Charlie: (pulls face) “She can come to dinner every other week. If we live. For now though, let’s just, um.”

Vaggie: “Go save the snake man?”

Niffty: “That man is DEAD!”

Charlie: “Resuscitate. We should go resuscitate the snake m- Sir Pentious.”

Niffty: (giggles) “And I’m gonna go order another pizza boy~” (scurries back under floor board)

Vaggie: “Wait, Niffty-”

Charlie: “Niffty! Are YOU the one who’s been-? Vaggie NO-”

Vaggie: (spear out) (in pursuit) “GET OUT OF THE CRAWL SPACES RIGHT NOW AND COME BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE-”

[mistystepmoonbeam]

Reborn in Baldur's Gate 3: Chapter 1

Plot: You’ve been reincarnated.  It’s the realization you come to when the tiefling offering you a health potion introduces himself as Tav.  You died and your soul revived in Baldur's Gate 3, at the beginning of the game no less.  But you only have the memories of your past life on Earth, and none of your current one.  

Tav invites you to join him on his journey, despite your lack of abilities or maybe because of it.  You might as well go along with it; where else would you go with no memory of who you currently are, or knowledge of anything that lies outside of the narrative?

There is much to discover about your life in Baldur's Gate, and what transpires relies on the tiefling leading your group as Tav.

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: This is very self-indulgent so there will by a lot of Gale and Astarion.

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

“I’m Tav.”

He’s a tiefling, you recall.  Tall and bulky with curled horns.  The dark gray skin tells you he’s descended from Mephistopheles, and his simple leather gear tells you he’s a barbarian.  Huh.  Yeah, that makes sense, he’s Tav, the hero of the game!  Or…the villain?  Your head pounds as memories flood back to you—tieflings, bards, goblins, vampires—you, sitting at a computer debating which choice would garner you the most favour with your companions in…

“Baldur’s Gate,” you mumble.  You slap a hand over your mouth, staying on your knees as you blink at the tiefling.  At Tav.  He arches his brows and kneels beside you, offering you a small vial of red liquid.

“You’re from Baldur’s Gate, too?” he asks.  “Drink this, it’ll make you feel better.”

Without much thought you take the already opened vial from him and swallow it down in one small gulp.  With a deep breath the pounding in your head subsides and you can think a little clearer.  Maybe not clear enough to fully comprehend that you’re currently in a video game, or that there’s a small wriggling behind your left eye which means…

More images come to you, a mind flayer holding a worm with too many teeth to your eye,  a githyanki—Lae’zel—pointing a sword at you, and then falling from the ship.  The nautiloid.  Tav’s memories of the ship.

Tav winces as the visions fade.  “Guess you got one of those, too.”

A chill runs down your spine, through each and every bone of your body until the squirming thing behind your eye stops movement all together.  

“I uh…”  You look around at the crash area, taking in the rocks and splotches of fire dotting the land on one side and water on your left, until you meet the gaze of a raven-haired half-elf.  

“This one doesn’t seem to be all there,” she says.  Her voice is as smooth and condescending as you remember, and you find it endearing despite the insult.

“Give them a moment,” Tav responds over his shoulder.  “It’s a lot to take in.”

Yes, especially because this is most definitely a dream.  A very vivid, painful, exciting, insane dream.

“What’s your name?” 

You fear all you can do is blink.  You tell them your name, voice as shaky as your body.  There’s a tremble in your hands that you can’t control, even with a hard grip on the now empty vial.  “And thank you…for the potion.”

Tav lifts, holding a large sharp-nailed hand out to you.  “Can you stand?”

You nod, taking his hand and letting him lift you to your feet. You let your hand drop to dust off your clothes, nothing that you remember wearing.  The last thing you recall was going to bed in a tank top and shorts but you’re now wearing a dark blue overcoat atop loose fitting pants and a fitted shirt.  The borders of the coat are stitched with gold swirls, and based on the softness of everything you wear it has to be expensive.  Somehow, after everything (whatever the Hells that involved) you are quite clean.  Not to mention the bag that hangs at your hip beneath your coat is quite heavy, and another bag that wraps around your waist and sits at your back has the contents clinking together when you move.

You look like a caster of some kind, but you can’t tell which.  You can’t feel anything that would indicate your abilities, but some cold sensation at the back of your mind tells you you can do something.  Like another limb sits in your mind, waiting to be moved.

“We don’t have time for stragglers,” Shadowheart says.

“Yet I helped you,” Tav counters.  There’s a playfulness to his tone that doesn’t match his furrowed brow.  

Shadowheart concedes.  “Fair enough.  You’re welcome to join us in our search for a healer.”

You nod.  Yes, a healer!  They’ll be able to—pain strikes your temples as another memory clouds your mind.  

A truck careening at you, horn blaring—a sharp hit of adrenaline and then…here.

“Oh my God I’ve been isekaied.”  Your revelation earns you quizzical looks from Tav and Shadowheart.  Reincarnated.  Just like those cheesy but addicting books about a girl being reincarnated as a villainess in some cheesy addicting romance novel.  You press your hands to your face, feeling familiar features but still wary.  “Quick, what do I look like?”

“A lunatic,” Shadowheart answers.

Tav hesitates, but describes you.  You.  Not some other face, not a character you recall from the game but you.  Regular human you. You sigh, relief flooding over you.

“As…interesting as this conversation is, we should get moving,” Tav says.

“Agreed.”  Shadowheart doesn’t move until Tav heads to the only direction you can go, near part of the crashed ship.  

“We need to find Lae’zel,” Tav adds.

“Less agreeable,” Shadowheart says.  “She’s probably long gone by now, if not dead.”

“Well we should still keep an eye out.”

You follow the two into the still burning wreckage where they suddenly stop and draw their weapons—Tav a large axe, and Shadowheart her mace and shield.  

“Intellect devourers,” you conclude.  Three sit at the far end of the ship, scurrying towards you at a frightening speed.  With one slash of his axe Tav takes out two of them before they can get close to you, and Shadowheart smacks the other one down.  All defeated in what?  Three seconds? 

The three brains bleed out and flop to their sides, clawed limbs twitching.

“Vile creatures,” Tav says, holstering his axe.  You expect the two to keep moving and check the nearby bodies for gold and supplies, just as you do in the game, but they don’t.  They walk right past the dead man without rifling through his pockets and as you step by you feel your stomach lurch.  To see a bloody disfigured body in reality felt very different from the game. The vacant eyes staring upward, pieces of flesh torn from his stomach…It isn’t until a hand covers your eyes and directs you forward do you realize you’d stopped.  

“Just keep moving,” Tav says, keeping his hand by the side of your head so you can’t see the body.  When his hand falls you keep your eyes on his swinging tail, and follow after him as he turns and moves into the sun.

Barrels and a broken down cart let you know what’s coming next—who’s coming next.  

Your excitement strikes you then, still shaky and confused but awake.  You’re in Baldur’s Gate 3, with Tav and Shadowheart, and hopefully all the others.  

Your eyes scan the water nearby, debris scattered everywhere until you spot a dagger on the dock.  Tav and Shadowheart watch you dart over and pick it up.

“I thought you would be one to attack with words, not knives,” Shadowheart says coolly.

You stash the dagger in a boot, smiling at Shadowheart.  Gods. She was pretty as pixels but seeing her in the flesh, she was something else.  “Well, words aren’t always the best weapons.”

“Can I get some help?”

You recognize the voice without needing to see the speaker.  Astarion is just up the hill waiting to ambush Tav and…kill him depending on how he answers.  

Based on how Tav darted ahead at the sound of someone in trouble (albeit fake trouble) you figured it wouldn’t turn out too terribly.  So they had skipped over robbing the dead, and didn’t explore every corner of the map looking for treasure chests…that didn’t mean things would be different with each companion intro, right?  There’s a plot here, and it has to be followed to a certain degree…right?  There were no screen pop ups to decide dialogue and you all appeared to have free will, which was good.

Right?

Your thoughts did little to comfort you as you climbed the hill to find Astarion already pointing his blade at Tav who was apparently perceptive enough to dodge rolling around in the ground with the vampire.  You stopped next to Shadowheart, at ease just watching the situation unfold.

Both men twitch and writhe as their parasites connect.  When their visions fade Astarion questions it, and Tav answers honestly about being in the mind flayer ship and what the worms can do.

You study Astarion’s face as he realizes that he’s somewhat free, but there’s a time limit to the incubation period.  Tav offers for him to join your trio, and just like you remember, he agrees.

“Splendid,” Astarion says.  “Lead on.”

At that the vampire meets your eyes.  Icicles dance up your spine until they pierce the back of your head, making you wince and hold a hand against the spot.  

You grunt at the sudden pain, the sound quiet but drawing attention all the same.  You wave the eyes away from you with your free hand.  “Sorry.  Head still hurts a bit from…having a tadpole put inside it.”

Nobody questions that, though you know it was something else.  Every time your eyes even flit in Astarion’s direction you can feel a push at the back of your head, that phantom limb clenching as if trying to stretch and release itself.  You wish you could say it was the tadpole, but it feels nothing like when you connected with Tav.  

“Well let’s just try to keep our worms separate,” Astarion says, seemingly at you.  “I don’t need to see what’s in your head anymore than you do mine.”

His eyes linger a moment on Tav.  You nod your agreement though he isn’t looking at you now.

“I saw some footprints along another path,” Tav announces.  “There could be other survivors.”

There doesn’t seem to be any question as to who is in charge.  Shadowheart insists on searching for a healer but with a quick convincing from Tav you’re all headed towards a strange looking purple sigil.  

“Looks unstable,” Shadowheart says.

“Best left alone,” Tav agrees.  It was just like a friend's first play through that thought the sigil would kill them, so they never had Gale join their party.  It wasn’t a totally unfounded theory—swirling, sparking voids did seem like something that shouldn’t be touched but everything in this world had a purpose.  Anything out of place or, well, glowing, was important to the story.

But then the group is walking toward the bodies of three goblins discussing supplies.  

They’ll steal from goblins but not humans?  Seems odd but maybe you’re the weird one being so willing to pillage the dead, no matter their race.  You frown, looking back at the sigil and knowing who is inside.  “You sure you don’t want to see why it’s like that?”

Astarion is observing his nails while Tav loots the goblin bodies.  Shadowheart kicks one of the bodies out of her way once fully plundered and looks back at you.  “Be my guest.  But if you get sucked in don’t expect me to come looking for you.”

“I’ll come look for you,” Tav states with a cheeky grin, hands inside a dead goblins pockets. It makes you smile back, so…kind and disarming.  You recall barbarians didn’t have high charisma, but Tav seemed to have it in spades.  Or perhaps your recent head injury was clouding your judgement—after all your reaction to being reincarnated, to being dead, was quite tame. 

“Ah, a true hero.”  Astarion looks between you and Tav, eyes narrowing as if trying to solve a puzzle.

You turn your attention back to the sigil, taking a small step towards it when an arm pops out. 

“A hand?” a voice calls.  “Anybody?”

You slap the waxing hand immediately without a thought.

“Perhaps I should have been more specific,” Gale says.  “A helping hand please?”

“Oh, right!”  You quickly take his hand in yours and tug to no avail.  

“Keep trying!”

You pull harder, wondering if you were going to end up holding a severed arm in your hand as the sigil sparks brighter and buzzes with energy.  You choose to ignore those thoughts and keep trying to free the wizard. 

With one final pull the person connected to the arm comes tumbling out of the sigil.  If it had been Tav to pull Gale free you’re certain it would have been a smooth experience, and he would have stepped back and dodged getting shoved to the ground by the sudden lack of resistance.  But it wasn’t Tav, it was you, and instead of dodging the wizard your feet tangled with each other and you both went down. 

The wind is knocked from your lungs with Gale atop you, his forehead connecting with your sternum and leaving you gasping for air.  Strands of his hair fall onto your lips, soft and smelling of something spicy while his left arm is wrapped around your middle, the other braced against the ground.  You realize he’d been trying to protect you on the way down, but wasn’t quick enough to cover the back of your head, which now throbs from the fresh battering.  

“Ouch,” you croak, voice barely making it out of your throat.  Footsteps approach until Tav, Shadowheart, and Astarion are hovering over you, each with a small smile.  Well…Astarion’s is more of a smirk…

Gale pushes himself off of you and before he can say anything Tav has his hands beneath your underarms and is pulling you up.  His hands slide to your back until you’re steady enough to stand on your own and thank him, rubbing at the back of your head again. 

Throbbing is better than stabbing, you suppose.

“Apologies,” Gale says as he smooths his hair back, “I’m usually much better at this.”

You continue to rub the back of your head as he and Tav exchange dialogue, much of it going in one ear and out the other as you focus on the pain radiating in your skull.  You squeeze your eyes shut and let your hands fall to your sides, giving in to the fact you can’t rub away whatever sensation is there.

“And you my friend.”  Gale is in front of you, drawing your gaze to meet his.  “I am truly sorry for landing on you, but extremely grateful for the help.”

You can’t stop your smile at him anymore than you could with Tav.  “Happy to help.”

His eyes stay on you a moment longer than appropriate, but when they drape down your body you think he’s almost sizing you up.  For a fight, or romance, or maybe to steal your coat you aren’t sure.

You look to Tav for direction, waiting for the leader to…well, lead.  Lae’zel should be next, but that’s when you notice you have an extra member.  With you there it makes five travellers, but nobody has been sent to camp yet.  Wherever that is.  While you’d like a moment to sit and organize your thoughts, the idea of heading somewhere on your own was terrifying. 

“I hear voices over that ridge,” Astarion announces.  Everyone turns towards where he’s looking, just a few feet ahead where the path winds up and you know you’ll find two tieflings looking at Lae’zel.  But you can’t hear them yet.

“Let’s check it out.”  Tav is already moving before anyone can object.  And like ducklings you follow him with Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart.

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Slow Dancing in Circles

Ascended Astarion || Astarion x f!Tav || ao3 || Masterlist

Rating: M , +18 Word Count: +1.4k Warnings: Ascended Astarion, abuse, mentions of sex (dub-con?, no description of sex act), mentions of death, adult themes.

And so it’s just you and him going through the same old motions, following a routine of his design—you always do, these days. Or decades. Centuries? Who knows? Not that it matters, no. You’ve been doing this for a very long time. Agreeing. Smiling. Fighting. Fucking. Dancing. Crying. Blood. So much blood. Even when this ballroom is long dead, the Gate is still bleeding red—for you, he says. Always for you. 

a/n: said I wouldn't do AA content but I talk a lot, apparently. Written in a frenzy. Another not so edited work, because I'm playing around with my writing lately and also try to chill a little. And it's 3am, make of that information what you will.

The Vampire Lord’s hand is clasping yours tightly as you dance around his empty ballroom. There’s no music accompanying you tonight—there was once, but not anymore. You can’t say when it crept in exactly, the heavy silence in this grand room. You only know that the music faded gradually, once upon a time, so slowly that you only noticed its absence when it had long fallen silent. Not that it matters, now.

The Lord of the house and you—his consort, his bride, his little love—are the only guests this room has seen in years, but you still know the steps of this dance by your cold, undead heart. You’ve gone through these same motions thousands of times before, and still, the Vampire Lord insists on guiding you through them. It’s not that he fears you’ll forget your place in time—you can’t, because he seldom wastes an opportunity reminding you.

Follow my lead, little love, he purrs into your ear. It’s not like you could do otherwise.  

And so it’s just you and him dancing through a withering ballroom, old grandeur slowly crumbling under years of silence and moonlit dust. One step forward, two steps back. Left. Right. Left. Left. Spin. Back. Back. Forward, please? Back. Left. No, pet, start again. There’s no end to this dance, unless the Vampire Lord wishes so, and he never does. 

And so it’s just you and him going through the same old motions, following a routine of his design—you always do, these days. Or decades. Centuries? Who knows? Not that it matters, no. You’ve been doing this for a very long time. Agreeing. Smiling. Fighting. Fucking. Dancing. Crying. Blood. So much blood. Even when this ballroom is long dead, the Gate is still bleeding red—for you, he says. Always for you. 

You’re hungry, little love. 

Are you? You must be, because he is. The Vampire Lord is insatiable. And so you must be, too. It’s just another step of this dance. Drinking. Sucking. Waiting. Killing. Damning. Fucking. Blood. So much blood. Love…? Once, maybe. You can’t be sure. Not anymore. Not since your fangs have grown dull. Not since you’re dancing in empty rooms. 

There is no need for you to hunt, let alone starve—not when the Vampire Lord is providing for your every need. Has he ever not done that? No, you haven’t known a night of hunger in his house. How very kind. What would you do without him?

You should be grateful, little love. 

He’s right. There’s no need for you to prowl dark alleys. No drunks, no whores, no rats to taint your pretty mouth with. Only the very best for you, pet. So the Vampire Lord brings you a handsome virgin when you’ve been good, and you always are for him. Gifts you an elf that has seen so many centuries, they’re carved into their beautiful leathery skin. Lies down a girl before you whose belly is so swollen with child that you can’t tell one heartbeat from the other. Their blood is calling to your instincts. You urge to pierce their skin with your fangs, but—  

We ask before we bite, little love.

Yes. May you have some blood, please? Of course, pet, of course! A feast just for you! Who else would it be for? Who else would matter as much as you do?

Come, eat right up, little love!

The moment your food arrives in your chambers it’s pale-faced and stupid with mortal agony. You don’t particularly like that. Their blood has an odd taste to it when the servants had to wash piss and shit off their fear-paralysed bodies right before serving them to you. They’re still alive but stink of death; it’s distasteful. Pitiful. You hate the way they look at you. But you don’t tell the Vampire Lord that. It would be ungrateful, wouldn’t it? 

I said eat, little love.

And doesn’t he feed you so lovingly, even when you reject his generosity at first? You don’t even need to use your own fangs to rip out their throats, he’s angry enough to do it for you. All you need to do is drink. Consume. Live. Please, even if you don’t want to. Listen to skin ripping and bone breaking. Screams fading into music fading into silence in the once-grand ballroom. Life fading to dust. 

The Vampire Lord knows you prefer the ones that are already half-drained of life when they’re brought to you—he knows everything about you. You like them better because they don’t move. They don’t scream. They don’t go through the same motions over and over and over again. All they need to do is die. They’re as good as gone when the Vampire Lord takes the last of their blood in his mouth, pulls you into a heady kiss. They don’t know that their essence drains from his mouth into yours, down your throat, and all you need to see are glassy eyes when the hunger you haven’t even felt has finally been sated. 

Good girl, little love, you’re so very good for me.

You wish you had been more like them, once upon a time, already gone instead of being consumed by fear. Stupid with love. Giving what wasn’t yours to give. Back then—when was it; does it even matter?—when your hands hadn’t yet been drenched in the blood of countless souls. Back then, when all you wanted was to protect the man you…No, it doesn’t matter. Not anymore. Even thinking like that is very bad of you. And yet, the Vampire Lord already knows of your wish. He knows it so well that you’ll never find the words to tell him of it yourself. He doesn’t want to hear of your wish, so silence remains. And it doesn’t matter. Not anymore.

I need you, little love.

The Vampire Lord fucks you the same way he dances with you—slow, but firmly. Holding you as close as your bodies allow, lest you vanish into one of the many empty rooms in this grand eroding house. That’s when you love him most. This body inside you is the only thing that still feels like him—the man you loved, once upon a time. Always. What was his name again? He had a silly laugh, you remember, and he was so very sad. Scared. He loved you so much.

Nothing feels as good as you do, little love.

The Vampire Lord plunging into you isn’t scared, nor is he very sad. He’s long over such mortal whims. He’s frantic, though, most of the time. He thinks he’s hiding it, but you went through the steps of this dance so many times that you can glimpse past the mask. He loves you still—his consort, his little love, his prisoner. 

Not that it matters, because it’s just him and a shadow of yourself dancing in a crowded ballroom at all times. Seven thousand damned souls are tugging at your skirts, you can feel their grasp as much as you can feel the Vampire Lord clasping your wrist, his nails digging into your skin. They’re one and the same, death and him. 

Follow my lead, little love. Follow my lead.

The Vampire Lord drags you over ash and bones and blood, so much blood that it makes your head spin. He’s a puppet master pulling the strings of all that’s dead and he won’t ever let go of you—you can tell by the smile on his face that doesn’t reach his all-seeing eyes. It never does. 

You want to hurt him. He knows.

What is it, little love?

You hate him. That man who stole your lover, once upon a time. No, you have to admit that’s not quite right. You were there, too, after all. You’d given him the dagger and then held down your lover as the Vampire Lord stripped himself of the man he was before. You two killed him so very thoroughly, except for his body there is nothing left, now.

“I love you,” is all you can say. They’re not your words, not anymore. 

I know, little love, you always will. 

Sunlight is breaking through dusty old curtains. The Vampire Lord spins you dangerously close to the soaring heat reaching for you. Why doesn’t he just let this house go up in flames? It would be no trouble. You always burned so bright, once upon a time. It would take but a moment.

But burning isn’t part of this dance. Left. Death. Back. Hatred. Back. Eternity. Spin. Tears. Right. His name started with an A. Right. Aeterna amantes. Forward, please? Lovers forever. No, pet, start again. There is little love left, but, as you’re slow dancing in circles through this tomb, you know that eternity has only just begun. 

[fumifooms]

i know you aren't really into marcille/laios any longer, but since you went looking online for dungeon meshi doujins, did you happen to find any other marcille/laios ones? (funnily enough at the convention i was at a couple weeks back they had like five, but they were extremely over-exaggerated and personally i prefer my fan content relatively in character...)

Ok first of all: Yeah listen laimar doesn’t have a grip on me anymore but I still quite enjoy it! Just more passively… Altho I do have an analysis that focuses a lot on the importance they hold to each other in my early stage wips drafts, and listen in canon I do think they’re queerplatonic flavored, call me an ot3 qpr truther because Laios Marcille and Falin have a something going on and it transcends being put into a box. But hey hey I reblog laimar artworks I bought that recent doujin I put laimar fics in my -checks- 106 pages long to-read list… Also I have like 5 pages of fanfic prompts for them I may or may not get to writing. Though yeah I do feel bad whenever I notice people following after liking all my laimar posts haha

Sadly to get to the meat of the topic, not really… I don’t go to cons for lack of opportunity so whatever I find is through online. The one I got is The Fourth Basement Floor, it has an english ver and seems so so very in character I can’t wait to get it! Otherwise I’ve looked on Otakurepublic & Doujinrepublic since I use their services for merch from Japan, warning if you click on the link, there are 18+ ones and covers can be pretty explicit. I don’t remember any other laimar one except the one nsfw one I think, but on the plus side there are a lot of gen no ships doujins. I’m bothered because looking back I feel like the catalogue of doujins was wider when I looked all those months ago and it feels like I’m forgetting something hmm… I wish I could help more, but yeah 😔 Pixiv has many laimar comics up (in japanese) if that sates the hunger any

As consolation since I’m already here, why not show some of my laimar things laying around gathering dust I’m fond of. Don’t look if you don’t want to be spoiled for fics I may or may not write I guess? All down below is just laimar prompts

I spoke about some various ones and esp my timeline where she gets him into Daltian Clan here. "Laios… I was wondering, because you enjoy fantasy stories right? I was wondering if you’d like to give my favorite book series a go… It has monsters!" I love love love post-canon laimar where he gets the habit of chewing on her hair because he’s stimming and hungry. Like a goat.

Laios goes to Marcille for love advice.  "You like someone?! Do I know them?" She eagerly asked. "Erm… Yes…?" // Post-canon. He’s so nervous and puts his foot in his mouth n lets things slip out that he thought would give him away. (Comic) "You like someone??! What are they like? Who are they?" And he’s like "Well… She’s a half-elf." He’s like shit she’ll probably know right away. And she goes still. "I’ve never met another half-elf!! We’re so rare! You’re saying you met one and didn’t tell me???!" She’s shaking him. And then she goes still again, contempt drawing on her face. "Wait… Are you asking me for advice because I’m a half-elf?" Laios runs with it "Yes!! And because you’re so savvy with romance and what people like…? If, uh, if you were a half-elf, what would you like to get as a gift? What sort of confession would you want?" "… You saved it there. Okay so since I’m so knowledgeable on romance, tell me what is she like?" "-describes Marcille-" She nods, smug yet oblivious. "Aah I can already tell we’d be great friends. Good taste." (then Thinking bubble with him giving her flowers at a restaurant "Did you know roses are edible and used in recipes", candlelit dinner, or wait maybe the most romantic is cooking together alone at home, chocolate! It’s expensive though… Wait I’m king now!)

Lil comic, Laios wakes up snuggled against Marcille’s back then promptly falls off the bed. The noise makes Marcille wake up and she’s like omg are u ok?? Laios is so sweaty and panicked and in denial about her being special to him.  She explains, disgruntled at the memory "Izutsumi is bunking in with Chilchuck again, they’re taking the whole bedrolls." Pause. "Sorry, I should have told you, but you like sleeping with Izutsumi too so I figured…" She looked sheepish. "Between you and Senshi, I much prefer sleeping with you. It feels sort of nostalgic, like a sleepover, no?" He relaxes and gets in the bed again, smiling. "But… We’ve never had a sleepover?" She chuckles "I guess not. I must be getting that impression because of Falin…" And the air between them is warm yet bittersweet now, as she smiles like that and his eyes and smile cloud over. The earlier instinctive reluctance to touch is gone now. She snuggles into his arms and is like "Hug me?" "Okay." And he does, wraps his arms around her and tucks his chin over her head.

Post canon, marcille takes him to a squid restaurant. Cute lighthearted hehe. He sulks "If there are any parasites in this I will ban squid from this kingdom or so help me…"

Short post canon fluff marcille pov about laios gaining weight n becoming chubby. She used to dream of chiseled abs and angular elves, laios in every way, shape and form is so far from the beauty standards she idealized so. And yet… She loves how soft sleeping against him is, how much there’s more of him for her to hug and nuzzle her face in. She loves seeing him and seeing someone strong, who isn’t malnourished or underweight, someone healthy with color in their skin. An healthy appetite. He used to look more like a rectangle, severe and strict, but now he looked rounder, and seeing him smile at her always made her feel like that roundness suited him. She smiled back, and melted thinking about how her boyfriend was the sweetest in the world. ^I still wanna do this one really bad. Sometimes a fic premise comes from nowhere and puts you in a chokehold and you must finish it to obtain catharsis

Short oneshot about laios musing about Marcille’s smile, how important it is to him in subtle ways etc: Ends with Laios being like wait there’s something off (succubus). Then he grabbed her throat. Or smth

Laios seeing her dungeon like "this is so wrong Marcille you can’t run a dungeon for shit" and also "WHAT ARE THESE HORRORS OF MONSTERS NOO THEY CAN’T BE EFFECTIVE LIKE THAT"

Dinner for two: Very warm. Marcille and Laios are meeting up and cooking a dinner just for them both, no one else is there. They’re being so domestic and it’s light. Laios pauses at some point, doing the dishes, saying… I’ve always worried, thinking doing things like these would remind me of my parents.

Laios doesn’t know what to do when he realizes he actually *likes* likes Marcille, so he avoids her. Everyone notices and is disapproving of him.

Her mana acts up and she shares her dream with someone, kinda like with Izutsumi. Listen the premise could be smutty but I think it’d be more fun if they just hanged out n were silly, like the nightmares chapter without the nightmare

Laimar pining but from the view of Chilchuck, his love hatred sensing a storm brewing. The giggling, the looks. Ugh! It reminded him of himself and his wife when they were young and newly dating.

I love Laios and Izu being worsties so. Laios sees izutsumi rubbing her scent on marcille’s clothes and gets possessive. Maybe Golden Kingdom maybe something else I have no clue but Laios being ridiculous and cheek rubbing or something <3

I might want to do an AU where Laios gets into werebeast ring fighting, before canon and the split happens after he deserts the military. So he’s alone, has nothing going for him and stumbles into that sphere and gets werebeast tattoos done. It doesn’t make him happier at all and fighting sucks actually, but it brings money and he likes being a beast and being cheered by a crowd aka illusion of being liked, and money brings food and eating is the privilege of the living etc etc. So then when he goes to check on Falin at the academy it’s a big AU where he has a whole other reputation and look to him, and when he meets izutsumi their relationship is different and aaaaaa… He’s freeer in this au, lets himself be animalistic and weird, even though ofc the arc is him letting himself be more human as well and connecting with humans, through talking and infodumping n shit. Oh I went off but the laimar is because it’s inspired by cool laimar art here (warning tho it’s an art dump with toudencest also 😔) but werewolf Laios laimar AUs… A lotta fun stuff there idk idk

[chloessleepystories]

A Year with Santa Claus

How many references can you find to favorite holiday stories?

I was lying on the couch in the living room Christmas Eve, laptop on my tummy, all the lights out except the lights from the tree. It was pretty. It was peaceful. It was boring.

But at least it was quiet – my younger siblings were nestled all snug in their beds, while mama in her kerchief and dad in his saggy tightie-whities were settled in for their long winter’s siesta after six glasses of cheap Walgreens wine. I was browsing dirty hypno Tumblr on my laptop and getting progressively hornier, so I shucked off my sweatpants and started stroking.

When suddenly I heard a jingling and a twinkling on the roof, as of the prancing and pawing of little hooves. And then, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a shower of soot on the floor, and the fireplace full of Santa Claus himself.

My long pale bare legs splayed, my sweatshirt hoisted up over one small teenage boob, and my sticky fingers covering my crotch, I must have been a sight. But all I said was: “I’m not cleaning that up.”

I guess it takes a lot to surprise Santa. His mouth hung open for a minute or two, but he quickly recovered – dropping his sack of toys and fumbling with his big belt buckle.

“Do we have time for this?” I whispered.

“Silly child,” he said. “Time is never an issue.” He threw a handful of gold dust in the air and instantly, time seemed to stand still. The clock stopped between ticks. The sprinkles settled on my bare body, and on my face, and tingled wherever they hit. I mindlessly slid forward off the couch and onto my knees, as a wave of peace and joy warmed my mind and hardened my nipples. He pulled my sweatshirt off as I gazed up at him, completely naked, my smile spreading as he stripped off his furs.

I gotta say, I was expecting an old fat man – a right jolly old elf – but I have been MISINFORMED, y’all. Turns out Santa is big, yes, but it’s almost all muscle. And he’s a silver fox – silver hair, short silver beard … with tattoos … “NICE” on his left forearm, and “NAUGHTY” on his right. And his name isn’t actually Santa, it turns out – but Sander…

His cock was impressive, majestic, and it tasted like cinnamon. His precum was like frosting, so sweet – undoubtedly from all the cookies. I sucked and slurped as he stroked my hair, and moved gently in and out of my mouth. It felt so good to serve him, to please him … then he picked me up as if I weighed nothing, and settled my dripping cunny on the head of his cock.

“It’s so warm!” I whispered. “It’s like you’re burning me up from the inside!”

Sander grinned, and there was a twinkle in his eye. “That’s me,” he said. “I’m Mr Hundred-and-One.”

He used me like a toy, but gently and lovingly, filling me so full with every thrust. He lay me back down on the carpeting, under the tree, and I looked up at all the pretty lights, in a daze, as he pumped into me for what seemed like hours … until finally Santa came down my chimney. Again and again, he came down my chimney.

I lay there panting as he dressed all in his furs again. I wasn’t sure if I could form words. When he knelt beside me, I whimpered like a broken doll. “Do you have to go?”

He smiled, shaking his head, and took out a sprig of mistletoe from his coat pocket. He held it over me. “I’m taking you back to my workshop, my dear. I’ll fix you up there … then I’ll bring you back here …” He broke a mistletoe berry under my nose. My eyes rolled back, and in an instant I was unconscious.

The next year passed by in a blur, a candy-colored, peppermint-flavored haze of sex and sweets. (If it was only a year – but I had my doubts about that. It seemed like it was always “nearly Christmas” around Sander and his people, and it was a perpetual aura of excitement plus exhaustion.) Time ceased to have any meaning. I learned to serve the elves. I made cookies with Mrs Claus – a process she enjoyed very much. And the things I ate and drank filled me with Christmas cheer, in different ways.

Some chocolates seemed to chip away at my intelligence. Some fruitcake seemed to leave me in a drugged-out blissful stupor for hours. Sometimes I seemed sharp and alert, but the only thing I could think of were the Christmas carols playing over and over in my mind, accompanying thoughts of various sex acts.

“Try some of this,” Mrs Claus would say as we cooked and baked together in her kitchen … And I would find myself licking the sugar from her hands, then sucking on her fingers, then going down on her snatch of silver-and-gold.

“Look into my eyes,” Sander would say, and I would gaze into his eyes for a while, smelling his breath of peppermint and pipe tobacco, but somehow not hearing the words he spoke into my unresisting ears … until I would awaken with “NAUGHTY” choking my throat,  just a little bit, while “NICE” was kneading and stroking my sex.

I was his favorite toy. He loved finding new games to play with me, to make me entertain him, or the others … or to make me happy. One of his favorites was turning me into a snowman. “There must be some magic in this hat I found,” he would say, then he would plop it on my head, and I would instantly freeze. He and the Missus would play with my body, and it would respond, but I could barely feel it – I was nearly numb, and the arousal would be far away. No matter what, I couldn’t cum. My eyes would leak in my frustration, but I couldn’t move, and could barely feel, a frozen snowman … until they removed the hat. Then everything would flood back into my body at once, and I would scream and shake and almost pass out from the explosion inside every cell.

Once, Sander hypnotized me into believing I was one of the reindeer. My name was Olive … Olive the other reindeer. He took a red thread, and he tied some antlers to the top of my head, then he led me into the stables. He left me there for hours … playing all the reindeer games.

I ate sweets and I breathed magic. I learned … I grew … I changed. My ass rounded and my breasts filled out as I grew older, more womanly, no longer a teenager. The elves would use my body for hours, as if they had never seen someone as tall as me, never had access to sexual partners before … as if they needed the practice. I loved letting the elves practice on me, my holes, my tits … it was like being swarmed by sex-starved puppies, and I loved it.

But the day finally came when Sander told me he needed to send me back to the world. It was almost Christmas again … though whether it was the same Christmas I had left, or the next one, or any other Christmas, I neither knew nor cared. I wept, and Father Christmas held me close. “I will always know when you’re sleeping, and when you’re awake,” he whispered. “I’ll know if you’ve been bad or good – so be good and naughty.”

“Yes Daddy,” I nodded, sniffling.

He touched my tears, with wonder and concern. “What’s this? What’s this?”

I sniffled.

“Santa baby?” I asked. “Could I make one wish, this Christmas?”

I could, and I did. I wished not to go back to my family, but a different one. He even let me pick one out. It took some time, and some research, but it was worth it.

Then, when I was finally ready, he gave me a cup of hot cocoa. I sipped it, then felt the sugar plums and fairy music swell. “Say … what’s in that drink,” I murmured as I lost consciousness.

So … here I am. Under the tree, dressed in lingerie and a cute little Santa hat – switched “off,” ready to be turned on by love and Christmas magic when the family come downstairs in the morning.

I picked a kind looking widower named Bob, who had to raise several kids on his own. The youngest, Tim, is sickly, but has made it to age 18, and I know I can make him, and his brothers, and their father, all happy. It gives me sexual pleasure to serve… so I’ll cook, and clean, and bake the best cookies they’ve ever had – and fulfill their sexual fantasies too. Sander even left instructions and trigger words for some of the games we’ve played, and modes he’s installed. I know I can make them all very happy.

I will miss elf practice, though.

[wareagleofthemountain]

Yule ❄️

A/N: Before anyone comes for me in the comment section… yes I know it’s June. But I’m trying to clean out my WIP folder and this is what I got for now. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Prince Nuada x fem!elf reader

The snow flurried outside, falling atop the roof in soft pitter-patters which was drown out by the crackling fire beside you. You had made a nest on the couch, complete with silken cushions stolen from King Balor’s study and one of Princess Nuala’s soft, heavy blankets. In your hand was a mug of hot tea, and your pointed ears folded back slightly as you relaxed further.

“Well, don’t you look as cozy as a bug in a rug there.” Nuala smiled fondly as she entered the sitting room. “I made these delightful cookies called gingerbread men. Found the recipe in a human cookbook my father had collecting dust on his shelves. Apparently it’s a tradition this time of year. You must try one!”

She held the steaming tray out to you, Nuada reaching over her shoulder and swiping one only to bite its head clean off.

Of course

“The human looks much better this way.” Nuada smirked, holding out the decapitated cookie.

Nuala squeaked in horror, eyes wide. “Oh stop it you beast!”

You laugh, taking a cookie for yourself and humming in satisfaction as it melted in your mouth.

“How are you my love?” Nuada’s voice is smooth as he slides in beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. A smile lights up your face and you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck.

“Better now that you’re here…” You mumble into his soft skin, sighing happily as you breathe in his scent, a faint mixture of pine and subtle notes of the tangy substance he used to polish his weapons. “I’m so happy to spend our first Yule here together….” Your voice is wistful as you watch the falling snow.

Nuada’s eyes are fixed on you, admiring the way your golden hair shines in the fire light. He takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips softly. “As am I. I…” His cheeks flushed and his voice trailed off, much like a boy with his first crush. “I have something for you.”

“Oh?” You shake your head slightly. “Nuada, you didn’t have to. I already told you that spending the holiday with you was enough.”

Your voice was earnest, insistent, but Nuada stops your protests by gently cradling your face in his large palms. “Hush, my light. I want to do this.” The Prince kisses your forehead before reaching into the pocket of his robe and pulling out a blue box neatly wrapped in a yellow ribbon. “In honor of our first Yule. The first of many, my love.”

You take the package in trembling hands, breath catching as you open it and see the golden bracelet inside. There were two elegantly crafted charms dangling from the arm band; two golden leaves meant to symbolize you and Nuada.

“It’s beautiful!” You cry out, flinging your arms around his neck and kissing him passionately. Nuada’s hand came up to cup the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, leaving you sighing blissfully.

“Here.” He clasped the bracelet onto your arm and pulled you in again. “Regretfully, dearest, we must go. Father’s hosting a feast in the main banquet hall and I promised him I wouldn’t let Mr. Wink eat all of the pie.”

You giggle as he pulls you up. “Good luck with that one. Hey, maybe there’ll be more gingerbread humans there eh?”

Nuada scoffs and you laugh harder. Merry Yuletide indeed.

[platinumrosetail]

Hi it's me again! I was wondering if you could do a Yandere Aaravos refusing to let go if his reincarnated Lover aka reader after losing them in elarion??

Hello again! And yes! I’ve been waiting for a Aaravos request for so long 🤩.

Warning: noob author, , yandere romantic character and others.

Character: Aaravos.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were a simple servant to Viren, you mostly take care of dusting and straightening things that were out of place and needed fixing, unaware of the eyes of a invisible; with Viren being the one to see him, startouch elf named Aaravos.

Aaravos soon realized that you’re the reincarnation of his past lover which he lost long ago when he was still free and not stuck in that mirror he is in now

Aaravos decided to manipulate Viren to get you to help out more around viren’s office so that he could see you more and learn what new things you liked as there was new things made that weren’t in existence in the past when you were still his lover before you died.

While you do your job you notice that a little caterpillar like creature appear when you’re in lord viren’s office, you decided to let the little crawl up your finger so that you could hold it but wasn’t expecting it to crawl faster up you arm to your neck and around your ear before a deep voice started to speak.

The deep male voice kept saying how he’ll have in his arms again and that he’ll never let you go again along with how you’ll never leave him again and not even death will take you after he has you in his hands, you were fearful about all of this but didn’t know what to do as you needed a job to have a stable life and this was the only one with good pay as far as you were aware, you decided to keep quiet unless it escalates to more trouble then you would tell lord Viren about the caterpillar creature, though what you didn’t know was that your choice on leaving it be was a bad decision on your part.

Aaravos began on making sure to execute his plan faster and more calculated seeing as you were put into the mix which was unexpected even for him, so he has to make sure he doesn’t lose you again.

Though he did find a spell that could bring you into the mirror and decided that, that was the better course of action as he can keep a better eye on you, make sure you don’t run off, get injured or worse, and so he can finally have you in his arms after so many centuries since your passing.

(A/n: hope you like it!! Also I can’t wait until season 6 and hope we get to see more Aaravos and his past cause i feel like he isn’t doing all of this just for fun especially after seeing some pictures of Aaravos that I believe is for the next season, also I really hope I get more Aaravos as I love this man even though he’s a villain 😍 lol and I know some of y’all can agree with me, also I’m hoping to create a book for this man sooner or later so wish me luck 😁, anyway hope y’all have a wonderful day/evening/night!!)

[ch6douin]

Player that just. Likes to collects skins. Even willing to pay for some bc can you blame them? Everyone looks so pretty and the stories behind them are interesting

But sometimes it just takes time to get a certain skin, so all the manor hears is how they wish X just came home, whatever that means to the player

(totally not me also asking what's your top fav skins for your favs 🖐️)

To be pampered is, of course, to be taken care of. The residents of this manor discovered that in a more peculiar way, one that could only be shown so evidently in the confines of these old walls. Your confessions and anxious comments make their ears burn red, hearts thump loudly, and fleeting smiles to bloom. Is there any other way to react to suddenly seeing carefully wrapped boxes stacked up on their front door? To not say they are all bordering lovesickness, yes, but having your attention and rejoicing in its privileges makes the majority of them.

They don't know how you have time and money to spend on them. Some might even think you're rich and be jealous of your status, others are just surprised by the detailed costumes and unique tastes in design before they realize you were just buying them, not creating them from scratch. (It's a little disappointing, but at least you're not the one obsessed with gold and red). Despite their gratitude, embarrassment takes over whenever deep necklines and corsets are involved. Yet they wouldn't ever let these outfits gather dust outside of matches, knowing that you appreciated their looks. Alas, they also know that you have favorites among survivors and/or hunters, the fact being accentuated by your deep gaze that they love to brag about so much. I guess the others will have to work harder to meet up with your expectations, no?

I'm surprised that you would ask my personal opinions, anon. My personal favorites for my favorite characters are:

For Andrew, Epitaph and Half-elf Knight. I have a soft spot with Desolate Sand too...

Ganji unfortunately doesn't have a lot of skins, and I'm not a huge fan of them, but Bail is cute ❤️

I love Doctor and Firefly, this skin will be forever one of my best purchases. I also have an attachment to Mikan Tsumiki.

Norton...Soul Catcher...No further comments.

I can also mention Mary and Bloodbath, along with LAST DANCE ‼️‼️‼️‼️ LAST DANCE ‼️‼️‼️😆😆😆😆

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | dawn // forty-five

| @catamano

next / previous / beginning

ELION: Not at all. I’m simply accustomed to powerful women. Indeed, hierarchal structure is one of the few things in this world I enjoy. I can respect authority spoken by someone who knows firmly what they want; A commander that isn’t afraid to give commands. EIRA: But you don’t respect mine. ELION: That’s hardly the case. I respect you a great deal. But I also enjoy you greatly in other ways, so I’m inclined not to listen. It’s quite the paradox. A part of me does feel quite poorly. I’m just being ripped apart on the inside by my own internal dilemma— EIRA: Can’t you take anything seriously?! ELION: Yes. Yes I can. And I do. I’d like to get to know you. EIRA: Why? ELION: You ask me to be serious, then I will give you a very serious answer. I once loved a woman like you. You remind me of her in the most achingly beautiful way. It’s painful. And I want to feel it more. EIRA: …So it is a kink. ELION: Only partially. EIRA: laughs Ridiculous. Did she love you back? ELION: For a while. EIRA: Shocking. Let me guess, you drove her away? ELION: Not at all. I lost her. EIRA: Oh. She… I’m… sorry. ELION: She didn’t die, if that’s what you think. At least, not in that way. No, I imagine she lives, still. But the woman she once was… Death is simple, you see. We grieve in the face of it. And grief has a name and a shape. It’s understood. There are far worse things than dying. To carry on when there’s nothing left of us… That is suffering of another sort, entirely.  EIRA: And I remind you of this? Shouldn’t you resent me? ELION: Not at all. I’m reminded of the fondest memories. You see, like you, she hailed from the mountain regions; One of the snow-touched elves of the north. I wondered if you might have had elvenblood yourself. That striking color of your hair… EIRA: I’m no elf. Just unlucky. ELION: Unlucky? EIRA: My parents were perfectly plain and human, in a village of other perfectly plain humans. I imagine that’s why they threw me out when I was barely strong enough to open my eyes. I’ve been putting people off since I was an infant. So forgive me if your advances don’t exactly stir my pot. ELION: Then, my apologies. I should not have expected you to respond the same. She was, I suppose, a particular case. EIRA: How did you… meet? ELION: Very accidentally. We met during one of my assignments long ago. She was no stranger to battle; A ranger, and better with a blade than I. They say poison is a maiden’s murder weapon, but she preferred a more direct approach, and I’d never been beaten so badly. EIRA: You were sent to kill her? ELION: No, I was sent to kill her client. And I did kill him, but she certainly didn’t make it easy for me. EIRA: Well, that’s a story if I’ve ever heard one. ELION: I have many. I expect you do, too. We could exchange them sometime. I can be quite civil when I need to. Dinner, drinks, I’ll even wear my hair up. EIRA: Tch. Do I look like the type to be wined and dined? ELION: I hoped not. EIRA: Then you weren’t wrong. But I’m no one’s replacement. ELION: I would never think to replace her. But then, seeing you, I considered maybe I ought to finally move on. EIRA: Find someone else. ELION: Ah, well. Suppose I should. I’m happy to accept when I’m defeated. But you must at least give me credit for trying. For what it’s worth, I was sincere. EIRA: … ELION: About what I said before… the trials… do be careful and look after yourself. EIRA: I— ELION: Yes, I know. You’re strong. And more formidable people than you have been ground to dust in those games. Even if you do survive… I hope that when you come out on the other side, you’ll still remember just how strong you were.

[sotwk]

The Baker from Lórien (Haldir gen ficlet)

Summary: A visitor from Lórien brings some excitement to the kitchens of the Elvenking's palace.

Word count: 1.1k

Content: Pure fluffy randomness, mother-son relationship, toddler Legolas

Rating: General (no warnings apply)

To Read on AO3: Link

A/N: I wrote this ficlet purely on a whim; I had no plans or strategy for it going in. It could be nonsense, or I could be onto something. XD It's most likely going to stay a random SotWK AU one-shot, but who knows. I pretty much just wanted to finally write any story featuring Haldir, whom I love dearly and firmly believe was one of the most desired bachelors east of the Mountains. Special thanks to my friend @creativity-of-death who inspired the concept of a Baker Haldir long ago!

Headcanons about Haldir in the SotWK AU: Any questions you might have about the background history in this fic would be answered HERE.

The Baker from Lórien

Third Age 246 Spring

Bar Lasgalen, the Palace of the Elvenking

“Down and forward, turn, and fold over. Repeat. Remember to use the heel of your hand--this part, right here.”

The lump of dough felt pleasantly squishy in Legolas’s hands, and only with great self-restraint did the four-year-old elfling manage to resist playing with it like modeling clay, instead of following his instructor’s example. With eyes narrowed in determined concentration, he watched the steadily working hands of the elf across the table from him. After just a minute or so of observation, he began to mimic the brisk kneading motion.

“Yes, good! That is very good.” The visitor from Lórien seemed pleased, albeit surprised, by how quickly the child caught on.  

Legolas beamed at the ellon’s praise, and held the smooth ball of dough up high over his head in triumph. “Is it ready for the oven now?”

“Not quite.” The silver-haired ellon took the dough from Legolas and checked it with a few expert prods of his fingers. “It needs time to rest and rise. An hour at least, although up to three is much better, and then we can reshape it into loaves. Then it must rest again, before it can be baked.” 

“Three hours?!” Legolas exclaimed, already dismissive of whatever other steps came after. “Does bread really take that long to make every time?”

“The loaves should be fresh and hot out of the oven just in time for your Highness’s breakfast.” Legolas watched as his dough ball was placed into a large pan next to five others and covered with a dish cloth.  

“And a delicious breakfast is best preceded by a sound night’s sleep, is it not?” The voice that came from the kitchen doorway made Legolas scramble off his stool. He smiled sheepishly at his nursemaid, Ninniel, as she entered with a knowing smile and firm shake of her head for him.

The older ellon spoke up. “My apologies, Emmë. I should have realized the hour was too late.”

“It’s all right. It appears some valuable learning has been accomplished here, at least.” Ninniel took in the rather comical sight of her grown son towering next to her not-at-all-grown charge, both of them dusted in flour, and felt all her exasperation melt away. She dipped a tea towel into the washing basin and set to work wiping the sticky residue off Legolas’s fingers. 

“Will you come and get me when my loaf is finished baking, Halidr?”

“Well…” Haldir of Lórien glanced hesitantly at his mother. He was still unsure what to make of Thranduil’s sons, who all behaved without any regard or perhaps even awareness of their social rank. Legolas, in particular, had been unabashed in his fascination with Haldir ever since his arrival at Bar Lasgalen. Today was merely the first day of a month-long, overdue visit to his parents, and most of it had passed with the little prince turning up wherever Haldir happened to be, armed with a constant stream of questions. “It really is not my place to--”

“When your bread comes out of the oven, I will wake you to come and have it for  breakfast, with me and Haldir,” Ninniel interjected smoothly. “But the sooner you get to bed, the sooner you can rise refreshed for a new day, yes?”

“That sounds excellent!” Legolas threw his hands up, and wriggled his hips in a little sort of dance. “I shall be back in a few hours, Haldir! Please take care of my bread!” he called out to the bemused elf before bounding out the door. 

“Are you still finding everything all right, dearest?” Ninniel swept a light hand over her son’s broad back. In one touch she could tell Haldir was fairly relaxed, as she had hoped he would gradually become. Her eldest had always been the most serious of her children, and his nature only grew graver as the ages passed and the memories of hard years weighed on him. It had been far too long since his last visit to Eryn Galen, so rarely could he be persuaded to leave his post at the March, and Ninniel hoped the brief holiday away would be restful for his spirit. 

“Yes, everyone here at the palace has been… quite attentive.” Haldir smiled and planted a swift kiss over his mother’s hair. “The prince’s arrival sent them scurrying off, I fear, but I do not think he seemed to mind or notice.”

Ninniel shook her head. “The only thing they were running from was their own embarrassment,” she said. “I will let you return to your work, my love. Legolas and I will be back soon.”

And indeed, as soon as she exited the kitchen, she encountered the gaggle of young kitchen maids waiting in the hall, preparing to re-enter now that the royal Highness had left and gone to bed. 

“Lady Ninniel,” they curtsied to her, appearing only mildly abashed by her witness to their obvious intentions. But this was a small phenomenon Ninniel had grown accustomed to over the years, for it became clear early on that her handsome son elicited rather strong reactions from elleths, often without any encouragement. 

“My lady, if we may…” one of the girls blurted out. “We were wondering… that is, we wanted to make certain… do you know whether or not Lord Haldir…”

“He is not a lord, and he would not appreciate being addressed as one,” Ninniel corrected gently. “And as far as I know, he is not engaged, involved, or taken with anyone at present.” She gazed at the line of hopeful faces and pressed her lips to smother a chuckle. “Any of you are welcome to try and draw his interest, if that is your wish.”

But best of luck, indeed. Ninniel sighed as she departed, leaving the sounds of pitchy giggling behind her as the pack descended on her oblivious son. Whether there was any chance of a maiden in all of the Woodland Realm catching Haldir of Lórien’s eye, much less his elusive heart, she did not know. That hope had certainly not borne any fruit in over a thousand years of matchmaking attempts. But any diversion, any added source of joy outside of his work, his books, or his baking, could only be a good thing. 

Anything beyond that--dare say a betrothal, a marriage, or even a new precious grandchild--was something Ninniel was prepared to be completely surprised with. But a mother will always hope.

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[princess-leaorgana]

What Tieflings Do Chpt. 1

Summary: After the takedown of The Absolute, Zelphie finds her city in need of more help and her home destroyed. She won't stop top help, but who can help her?

Rolan x Tav (Zelphie; ~30y.o AFAB, Sorcerer, Tiefling, not really described physically on purpose <3)

M/F

Author's Note: I fucking love tielfings. Along with this being a budding romance/smut/fluff/word vomit fanfiction, it's also my case study in DnD 5e tieflings, how they act, what sets them apart from humans and devils and elves. That being said, I have a few artist liberties in here as well where I couldn't find a straight answer, if you'll amuse me.

Mild trigger warnings - There will be smut in future chapters, but this chapter mentions injury and my hyperfixation on tieflings being carnivores. Also spoilers to the game! If you read my work and find anything else that puts you off, please tell me! <3

‘It seems as though the worst is not yet behind us,’ Jaheira said, sarcasm in her voice. Zelphie laughed at the half-elf and sighed.

‘But surely, we can be awarded a little relaxation until the morning,’ the tiefling suggested and Jaheira smirked.

‘Maybe you will relax, but I must go home, to my litter,’ she said and Zelphie chuckled.

‘Oh, I do wish I could help you with all of that,’ Zelphie responded sarcastically. Jaheira couldn’t hold back her laugh. Zelphie smiled at the older woman. She was always so self deprecating about her age, but Zelphie thought she was beautiful and always thought her so strong. To meet Jaheira, the hero of Baldur’s Gate, now twice so, was so exciting for Zelphie. She had grown up hearing stories of the Druid Jaheira, High Harper. Jaheira was everything Zelphie had been expecting and so much more. Zelphie was very happy to call her a companion, a neighbor in fact. The two looked at each other for a moment, the last two in Baldur’s Gate, well, for now. Shadowheart, Halsin, Lae’zel, Gale, Karlach and Wyll had all left. Jaheira, Zelphie and Astarion were left in Baldur’s Gate, the vampire had run off to the shadows, Jaheira and Zelphie remained. What did one say to a companion one had faced the end of the world with? 

‘I assume you have your own family to return to, little cub,’ Jaheira said and Zelphie smirked. Zelphie knew that Jaheira knew better than that. An adult tiefling in Baldur’s Gate, with a full family? Unheard of. The sorcerer had been on her own since she was a child. Not a lot of tieflings had the love of their parents. ‘You know where to find me, please keep close by, yes?’ She asked and Zelphie nodded and hugged Jaheira. Jaheira was so lithe, it was a wonder how she was so strong, Mother Nature was on her side. Jaheira hugged her tightly. ‘Careful with those,’ she said as she loosened the hug and pulled on Zelphie’s right horn. ‘And come find me when you have the strength to help us rebuild, we’ll need you.’

Zelphie headed out to the lower city, praying to any god that was paying attention to her that the small space she had been living in was still standing. The gods would not favor her, however. Her bungalow was dust amongst the streets of Baldur’s Gate. She was half expecting it. But where was she to go? She would kill to take a bath. To continue walking these streets, watching the dead being carted off, the rubble, confused children abandoned, it hurt Zelphie’s heart. There was no bath or bed for her, she would make some use of her time. On her way back to the Elfsong Tavern, she helped where she could. She made use of her volatile magic and helped push large chunks of rubble out of the way so the street could be a little clear for transportation once more. There was a lot to do everywhere, but the park near the lower city’s central wall was a hazard. Zelphie pushed herself to her limits, and twilight was making the work hard. She began her journey to the tavern, hoping for at least a roof to sleep under. 

‘Oi! Hero! I can’t believe you’re alive!’ A familiar voice called from the fountain in front of Sorcerer’s Sundries. Zelphie smiled and looked towards the voice. The tiefling population in Baldur’s Gate had grown tenfold since the scourge of The Absolute took hold. Zelphie couldn’t be happier about it. A lot of Baldurians weren’t very happy about them, not only were they refugees, sucking up precious resources, but tieflings had never had a great reputation. Hellspawn, Devil Bastards, Brighteyes, Gargoyles, a few of the many choice words Zelphie had been called in her lifetime. No one could look past their dark ancestry. Zelphie couldn’t tell a soul how far back her familial line went to the Archdevil Asmodeus, but that was all a stranger would see when they looked at her red skin, her glowing red eyes, or her long and sharp horns. How could she blame some people? What was worse than a devil? After these last few months, Zelphie would have to argue that there was nothing worse than a devil. But Baldur’s Gate would have to get used to being overrun by hellspawn, because they were certainly here to stay, and Zelphie was very happy to see this one in particular. Lia, a tiefling she had met at the Emerald Grove at the beginning of her adventure, was sitting on a pile of rubble outside of her brother’s new property, Sorcerer’s Sundries and the illustrious Ramazith’s Tower. She was waving her arm happily and Zelphie grinned and walked over to her friend.

‘Gods Lia! You’re alright! When I saw the state of the tower, I wasn’t so confident,’ she said happily as Lia lept from her seat. Lia hugged her friend tight, which was incredibly painful for poor sore Zelphie, but she hugged Lia back happily.

‘The outside of it is rather brutal, but from the inside, it’s as if nothing happened at all,’ she said cheerfully. ‘You look a little worse for wear though,’ she said and tilted her head and Zelphie sighed.

‘Please tell me I don’t look half bad for a girl who defeated an Elder Brain,’ Zelphie tried to sound positive. Worse for wear was quite a nice way of putting it. ‘I’m hoping there is one last bed in the tavern for me….my…my place wasn’t as lucky as the tower, I’m afraid.’ Lia frowned and shook her head.

‘Oh, Zelphie, I’m so sorry. I feel so guilty, watching all of these people lose their homes, I certainly know what that feels like. Come on inside, would you? Have a bath and something to eat. There’s a bed in there for you,’ she said and Zelphie frowned. Sleeping in a wizard’s tower was certainly much more preferable than an overcrowded tavern, but Lia and her siblings had just reunited. Zelphie did not want to push in as a beggar off of the street.

‘Lia, I couldn’t. The last thing you three need-’

‘Please shut up and come inside, gods dammit. After saving the city, maybe the whole world, you absolutely deserve to rest your head on a plush pillow,’ Lia interrupted, stubborn as Zelphie had ever heard her speak. Lia wore her emotions on her sleeves, she was bold and she was stubborn. Zelphie and her weren’t exactly close, but every argument she ever heard Lia participate in, she always won.

‘Fine, thank you, Lia. Thank you so much,’ she said and Lia walked her inside. The storefront of the building was as busy as it had been, but for a completely different reason. The normal store had turned itself into a place of healing, it seemed. Beds were brought in and tables were used as beds to comfort the needy. Zelphie walked past clerics healing the hurt and she looked at Lia. ‘Give three orphaned refugees a little land and see what they do with it,’ she said and Lia beamed proudly. ‘Once I’m cleaned up, I’m sure I can be put to good use down here, whatever is needed,’ she said and Lia laughed.

‘You’re fucking ridiculous, Zelphie,’ she said and snorted, leading Zelphie upstairs. ‘You’re bruised, tattered, your brain is full of holes, you are part of the group of people who get to rest.’ Zelphie sighed at that. She was dirty, she was starving, she was exhausted. Still, life went on around her, how could she sleep and rest when there was so much to be done? ‘If you even try to lift a finger for the next twelve hours, I’ll break your legs,’ she said, her tail swaying playfully. Zelphie couldn’t help but laugh at that a little. She followed Lia up another flight of stairs to a portal. Zelphie recognized this portal, she had gone through it before. ‘Rolan changed this to only allow family inside. With the given exception to the person who saved his hide. Three times.’ Lia said and Zelphie looked at her. Rolan has made an exception for her? Surely that also included the rest of her companions, not just her. Although Zelphie was a bit biased towards the tieflings they had met on the road, she wasn’t the only one to defeat the goblin camp, to free those imprisoned at Moonrise or to put a final stop to Lorroakan’s madness.

The pair stepped through the portal, and Zelphie was once more transported to a strange level of the tower. The floors below could be seen from where she was standing, and it gave her nerves an unsettling feeling as she remembered that day. But the ‘foyer’ was much different from when she last saw it. Less clutter, every book and object clearly visible for browsing. Lorroakan had been a hoarder of knowledge, not a lover of it. Clearly Rolan was good on his word, books and scrolls and tomes were neat and tidy. There were considerably less of them, as well. No more throne of books either. Items were on full open display instead of being trapped behind locked screens. Lia led Zelphie to a small hallway and up more stairs. Three flights up, Lia finally walked through and Zelphie was terribly relieved. She was exhausted. Her arms, her legs, her tail, even her horns ached. She imagined her promise to help downstairs would not pull through. She was ready to pass out on the next flat surface she saw.

 ‘Alright, let’s see if I remember this…if I get it on the first go, you tell Rolan how talented I am,’ she said and Zelphie smirked. They stood in front of a normal brick wall. Nothing fancy about it at all.

‘As if he’d believe anything out of my mouth,’ Zelphie said and Lia laughed. The other woman looked like she would respond, but turned to a wall and knocked on it with her knuckles.

‘Epoolso,’ Lia incanted and Zelphie smiled. Lia’s brother, Rolan, was the new master of Ramazith’s Tower, he was a wizard, and like most wizards, was very eager to not only learn, but teach. Lia was not a wizard, but it was clear that Rolan was trying to teach his sister a few tricks. Her incantation wasn’t correct. Lia sighed and attempted again. Nothing, just a brick wall. ‘Well, there goes my chance at impressing a hero then,’ she muttered, crossing her arms. ‘I’ll go find Rolan,’ she said and Zelphie shook her head.

‘No, don’t bother him, I can do it. The Weave and I go way back,’ she teased and Lia smirked. Zelphie lifted her hand to the wall, giving the brick a sharp knock. ‘Pulso,’ she said quickly, and a blue light materialized around the wall in the shape of a door. Lia sighed.

‘Damned wizards always make everything look so easy,’ she said, opening the door and Zelphie laughed.

‘Do NOT call me a wizard in front of Rolan, his head will pop off,’ she said and Lia laughed.

‘Don’t tempt me,’ she said and led Zelphie through the door. Inside was a little room, a bed, a wardrobe, a desk and a small wooden bath. It wasn’t much unlike Zelphie’s actual home. It was just missing the fireplace. ‘I want to catch up with you later, but I’m sure you’re dying to scrape the illithid off of you. You probably haven't eaten yet, I’ll be back with some dinner, but relax, take a hot bath. I’ll be back in a little while, alright?’ She said and Zelphie smiled and nodded.

‘Thank you so much Lia, this is wonderful,’ she said and Lia smiled, leaving Zelphie alone to her thoughts. Zelphie turned on the taps the second the door shut and for the first time in hours, sat down on the floor. She wouldn’t put her dirty clothing on the bed. She began removing her boots. She was almost ashamed of the state of her body. Before the damned kidnapping she was never seen to have a hair out of line. Seeing her skin, smelling it, feeling it, she was going to need more than a hot bath to fix herself up. Dirt, grime, blood, viscera, bruising, cuts, all of it covered her body. She was so aware of it as her bath was running. She removed her robe next, wishing she had more than her lounge clothing to wear, as her robe deserved a proper fire burial. She peeled her pants and wrap shirt off. All the clothing became a puddle on the floor. She poked through the drawers of the wardrobe to find washcloths. She began to scrub at her skin with just water as the bath began to rise. She would make that bath a soup if she got into it now.

Once the bath was full and she had used up three cloths, she got into the tub and sighed out loudly. That might have been exactly what she needed. She would be very happy to soak her skin off here. She allowed the parts of her she couldn’t reach before to soak, dunking her head, hair and horns in the water. They were very sore, her horns. Having sore horns was a newer experience for her, but it was over now, it had to be over. The residual clean-up of the city aside, she could live as she normally did. No fear of ceremorphosis, no fear of Baahlists, doppelgangers, not even goblins. Her biggest worry now was finding a place to rest her head in the future. May Lia, Cal, and Rolan be blessed for giving her refuge for the night, she thought. Her fingers and tail played with the water a little until it became much too cloudy for her liking. She stood, giving herself one last go with a washcloth and stepped out. Now, she would be allowed to preen herself. Lotion her body, file her nails and oil her horns. Being able to take time to do this routine of hers was impossible these last months. If her preening tools had been worth any gold, they would have been sold ages ago, with most of her other possessions. Every moment awake was a moment to take advantage of. To do, to go further, to save their skins. There was a knock on the door and she quickly pulled a tunic over herself for quick cover. She walked over to the door and smiled, seeing Lia once more. The tiefling’s red eyes lit up seeing her.

‘I have never seen your skin so glowing before,’ Lia said and grinned, looking around the room a bit. ‘Oh, let me take those to the wash,’ she said, pointing at a pile in the corner of a towel, cloths and Zelphie’s clothing. Zelphie grimaced and walked over to the pile.

‘You should probably just burn them,’ she said and Lia laughed. Zelphie scooped it all in the dirty towel, which was the cleanest article and Lia took it easily.

‘I was going to bring you dinner, but me, Cal and Rolan would like you to join us. Well, Call and I want to catch up, we have so many questions, but I think Rolan just wants to show off what he’s done to the place,’ she said and Zelphie smiled.

‘Alright, let me just…’ she said and rifled through her bag, finding thick stockings to cover her legs. She followed Lia out of the room, taking a quick stop at a washing room to dump Zelphie’s soiled clothing. ‘So, the infirmary downstairs, I assume you all need help. I can help. After dinner, please put me to good use,’ she said and Lia smirked.

‘You will rest after dinner, I told you. We want to catch up. You can take a break from being the hero for one night, please. Let someone else take care of you,’ Lia said, repeating herself from earlier. ‘Besides, I’m sure you’re useless while you're so tired,’ she nudged Zelphie, who smiled. She still felt guilty, of course. She felt guilty because she did want to relax, but her heartstrings pulled as she was reminded of the chaos down on the streets. The chaos she caused. She did not argue, she hoped she would be right as rain in the morning. Then she would be able to help. Lia led her to a dining room, which was almost untasteful how ornate it was. Clearly Lorroakan’s taste still lingered in the tower. The table was very small, an assumed upgrade from the new master and his siblings. Cal and Rolan were sitting at the table, but stood when Zelphie and Lia appeared. Cal happily walked right over for a hug.

‘Oh Cal! It’s wonderful to see you in more comfortable clothing,’ Zelphie said. The ranger was clearly in need of a relax, his normal leather armor gone, a white shirt and relaxed pants it was instead. He looked like a normal person.

‘Look at you though! I didn’t know how small you were under those robes,’ he said with a happy chuckle letting her go.

‘I’m so glad you and Lia were able to get here safely, where you belong,’ she said as Rolan walked over to greet her as well.

‘Don’t give Rolan all of the credit for that, mate. He told us exactly who bumped us up on the guest list,’ Cal said and pressed a finger to his own nose playfully. Zelphie laughed and looked at Rolan. Imposing as always, in his robes, but as master of the wizard’s tower of Baldur’s Gate, it only made sense. He always had a sense of imposing about him, but right now, after everything, Rolan’s confidence was well measured. A hero of Baldur’s Gate he was.

‘Hello Rolan,’ Zelphie said and held out her arms to hug him as well. Rolan smirked and followed her lead. The hug wasn’t as warm, but about two months ago, Rolan was cussing out Zelphie for merely existing around him. She was very happy for a curt hug.

‘Hello Zelphie, I’m so glad to see you safe,’ he said honestly and Zelphie smiled.

‘Safe because of the quick learning of the new master of Ramazith’s Tower, I promise you. You’ll have to show me those cannons one day. Of course I assumed they would be powerful, but it was unbelievable the amount of damage they did to a red dragon, of all things,’ she said and Rolan’s red cheeks deepened.

‘I would be very proud to do so,’ he said and nodded to the table. The siblings and Zelphie made their way to the table and Zelphie sighed with joy. Tieflings, though very similar to humans in look and biology, had a lot of quirks. One such quirk was their diet. Zelphie did travel with Karlach, another tiefling who had a huge appetite, but her decade in the hells gave her different tastes. Zelphie swore she watched her friend eat actual dirt when it came to it. Otherwise, her companions ate like rabbits. Tieflings were carnivorous by nature, and to finally dine with a group made exclusively of Tieflings, she was very happy to see food that finally suited her diet. ‘I hope the food is to our hero’s tastes,’ Rolan said in response to her little gasp. Zelphie grinned and looked up at her hosts.

‘I’ll complain about the tadpoles and the Baahlists and the goblins and all of that until I die, but only to you three can I complain about Gale’s cooking,’ she said and the other three laughed. ‘You spend months and months with two Druids and tell me how you survive,’ she said and sighed, scooping up cooked marrow for her bowl.

‘Well, we did live in that grove for a while, I think we can understand your pain,’ Lia remarked and took a bite of her food. ‘You did have that vampire though, I’m sure he was helpful,’ she said and smirked. ‘In more ways than one, I’d like to think,’ she added and Zelphie snorted.

‘Yes, he was very giving when it came to his hunts, always very generous with the blood he caught,’ she said sarcastically and Cal looked at her. The truth was the opposite. Although a tiefling could live off of blood like a vampire, vampires had an insatiable hunger for it. Astarion did not like to share his kills.

‘Did he ever…bite any of you?’ Cal asked and Zelphie looked at him.

‘Oh yes, I trained him well. Always just enough to make him happy.’ Cal went deep red in the neck and Lia smiled at her brother.

‘Does it hurt?’ He asked curiously and Zelphie was about to answer but Rolan jumped in.

‘You let that vampire bite you?’ He asked her and she nodded.

‘Yes…honestly…at the time, we had all just landed from the kidnapping and I was desperate. I know it sounds delusional, but I was very happy to have a vampire fighting alongside me. I would do anything to make him more powerful,’ she said and shrugged. Rolan raised an eyebrow at her. There was the judgment in his face she was more used to. ‘If you think that sounds stupid, I’d love to tell you the truth about Gale,’ she said with a laugh and took a bite of dinner and sighed happily.

‘Gale, the wizard? Oh you can tell me whatever you’d like about him,’ Lia said and sighed.

‘Lia, please behave,’ Rolan said and Zelphie giggled.

‘I know you three had your own dangers, I used to wish you would join us, but I’m now thinking how productive we would have been if you had,’ Zelphie said with a smirk. That would have been fun, watching Cal shyly flirt with Astarion and Lia boldly flirt with Gale. Gale wouldn’t have a clue what hit him.

‘Probably not very. I wish we would have been more help, but Rolan insisted without our own tadpoles, we might have held you back,’ Cal said and Zelphie shrugged.

‘In some instances, Rolan’s correct. Halsin and Jaheira could not come to Moonrise Towers without alerting suspicion. Although, that might have to do with them knowing Ketheric to begin with,’ she said and looked at Rolan, who was just looking back at her. ‘If it weren’t for the chance that we were tadpoled, we wouldn’t have been able to save you two or Danis or Lakrissa,’ she said, speaking to Lia and Cal, but still looking at Rolan. He had been so frustrated that he had failed trying to save his sister and brother, where Zelphie had succeeded. But he had to know, without her gods damned tadpole, she would have failed as well.

‘May the tadpole be blessed,’ Lia said and Zelphie looked at her with a smile. ‘But…do you still have it?’ She asked and Zelphie shook her head.

‘No, it was part of the last command to the elder brain, destroy all illithids, destroy self. Halsin was able to confirm they were gone,’ she explained and smiled. ‘Which is lovely for many reasons, but more so because my powers are back to what they were before the tadpole. Which means I can help downstairs and in the city. What do you need?’ She asked and Lia frowned.

‘Zelphie, we want you to relax,’ she insisted, but once more, Rolan spoke quickly. 

‘What would your talents be able to help with?’ He asked and Zelphie smiled.

‘A few things. I can cauterize and heal superficial wounds, though I’m sure you’ve caught most of those. And I have very powerful mending talents. Broken legs, broken anything. Even with the tower or store itself. My mage hand as well,’ she said and lifted her right hand, a blue one easily flowing out of it. It flew over to an end table in the corner of the large room and lifted it gently. ‘It’s very strong, please tell me what I can do,’ she said and Rolan watched her carefully.

‘We could really use it, thank you,’ he told her and Zelphie smiled. ‘I’ll meet you in the morning, we'll go over a plan,’ he said and Zelphie nodded, very happy to be of use. Zelphie’s tail lifted and swished slowly and happily, content that she wouldn’t just take advantage of her friend’s hospitality. She knew Rolan would be logical about this.

‘Rolan, we talked about this, we can’t ask the hero of Baldur’s Gate to do-‘ Cal began and Rolan’s eye contact with Zelphie shifted to his brother. He held up a hand and shook his head.

‘You are right, we can’t, but we won’t refuse her request, either,’ he insisted. ‘Whatever she wants, she’ll have,’ he finished and Lia chuckled and took a bite of her dinner. Rolan went a little red and shot his sister with an annoyed look.

‘So, how has it been here? I imagine you three haven’t even found every nook and cranny this tower has to offer,’ Zelphie asked to move the subject away.

‘Cal went through a strange portal and was lost for three hours,’ Lia said and Cal laughed.

‘Yeah, but if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have found those scrolls Rolan needed for the cannons, I say well worth the struggle,’ he said, still laughing.

‘Yes, and you managed to piss if that djinni, which makes that part of the tower impossible to traverse through, you have my thanks, muttonhead,’ Rolan said and Zelphie giggled.

‘A djinni? Hopefully you didn’t free him,’ she said and Lia laughed.

‘Free? I’m not entirely sure, but he is long gone.’ Zelphie gasped, knowing that absolutely meant the djinni was free and causing havoc somewhere.

‘Another reason I regret allowing either of you to live here, I’m hoping a talented sorceress will prove to be much more careful as a housemate,’ Rolan said and Zelphie felt her tail swish a little more enthusiastically. Well, that felt nice, another little compliment from Rolan.

‘Thank you again, for letting me stay here for the night. I hate to be a pest, once I’m settled again, I’ll be out of your hair and find a way to pay you,’ Zelphie assured and Cal snorted.

‘Pay us? Come on Zelphie, this is our way of repaying you! How many times did she save our skins? Never mind the whole world saving bit, you’ve saved me Lia and Rolan personally more times than we deserve. Please, letting you sleep in that little room is the least we can do,’ he insisted and Rolan looked at Lia.

‘Little room? Where did you put Zelphie?’ He asked his sister.

‘One of the guest rooms on the second floor, I wasn’t sure where you would be comfortable,’ she answered and shrugged. Rolan shook his head and lifted a glass of wine.

‘No, we’ll have you move up to our floor. You’ll love it, the scenes from the balconies are beautiful. Well, they will be once the destruction is taken care of, of course.’ Rolan sipped his wine and Zelphie went a bit red.

‘I’m fine in the little room, besides, it’s just the one night, no need to fuss,’ she said and Lia looked at her.

‘What do you mean one night? Where are you off to? Aren’t you from Baldur’s Gate?’ She asked and Zelphie shrugged.

‘I can’t stay here forever, surely there is a place for me somewhere. Maybe near Cloakwood,’ she said and shrugged.

‘Your place is here,’ Rolan insisted. ‘Unless you are uncomfortable here, of course,’ he added quickly and Lia nodded, reaching over the table for Zelphie’s hand.

‘Please stay with us,’ she said softly.

That was that. Ramazith’s Tower of Baldur’s Gate was now owned by the tieflings. Zelphie would earn her place with the siblings and they would insist she didn’t need to. She already had and they were happy to have her. She listened to the three bicker and tease each other for the rest of dinner and once the food was happily finished, Rolan asked for a moment alone with Zelphie. He led her to a sitting area and was very earnest in his speech. Zelphie sat next to him on a large red sofa and he poured them more wine.

‘I wanted to thank you, personally. This isn’t easy for me to do, so I will apologize early on if I’m…clunky,’ he said and lifted his glass of sweet wine to his lips. Zelphie sipped her wine along with him, her head already a little spinny from dinner. Good food and quality wine was exactly what she needed.

‘Just you not being angry with me is thanks enough,’ she said, playful in her tone. Rolan hummed happily and shook his head.

‘I guess we can both say confidently which one of us deals with stress better,’ he said and smirked into his wine glass. ‘I will also apologize for my previous behavior. I really hope I can make that up to you. I can’t imagine why you would still consider myself worthy of your friendship,’ he said and nodded.

‘Please don’t apologize, Rolan. If I had siblings or any family out there, I’m sure I would have acted the same as you,’ she said and placed her hand on his. He looked down at her hand and then her face and placed his goblet down on a table in front of the sofa.

‘You don’t have any family?’ He asked her honestly and she shook her head.

‘No, I don’t even really remember what happened to them. I was around five, I went to bed one night and woke up in a hostel. All the woman who owned the place said to me was that my parents were gone. It hurt, but I don’t think a lot of our kind can’t empathize with that story,’ she told him honestly and she watched him chew on his bottom lip. ‘But it made me who I am today. I’m lucky I was born with magic in my veins. I might not have survived otherwise, it sounds a little backwards but I’ve always considered myself very lucky.’ Rolan’s yellow eyes read her face for a moment and placed his hands on his knees, preparing himself for something.

‘Could I trust you with something?’ He asked her, his voice a little softer than normal. Zelphie tilted her head, but nodded.

‘Of course Rolan,’ she told him and he sighed out.

‘No one knows this, besides Cal and Lia, of course but…’ he reached for his goblet and faltered. He placed his reaching hand back to his knee. ‘You and I share a similar story, I-uhm,’ he started, but Zelphie would not interrupt him. She wasn’t exactly sure where this was going. Had their parents also been lost? Murdered? Kidnapped? ‘My whole family…they were rounded up when I was ten years old. I ran and hid in a closet, my mother told me to hide. Like you, I still don’t know what happened. I uhm…I met Cal and Lia’s mother soon after that,’ he began and Zelphie’s brows furrowed.

‘You…met…?’ She asked and Rolan looked at her and he nodded.

‘Lia and Cal aren’t really my siblings. My true siblings are dead,’ he said plainly, but there was a quiver in his throat. ‘But their mother took me in…they are all I have, they were so easy to call me their big brother when we were children, I just…we never let that go,’ he said and Zelphie’s heart broke. She couldn’t help it. Even though this tragedy had happened to Rolan maybe two decades ago, she reached over and hugged him. He hugged her back and she felt his tail curl around her waist.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said softly and he shook his head but did not let her go.

‘No, I’m sorry for you, you didn’t get a Cal or Lia. I’m the lucky one here, my dear,’ he told her softly. ‘Which…for many many reasons is why I’d like you to stay,’ he said and the hug ended. Zelphie sighed at him and tilted her head. ‘You need family. We tieflings are strong, but together we are stronger. We work better as a community. Besides the fact that without you the three of us would have died four or five times over, you deserve a family as well, Zelphie. Please, let us give you that,’ he said with such earnestness that Zelphie felt her nose twinge. That was very kind of Rolan. Zelphie had always adored the three siblings, she was always jealous of their relationship and wanted more than anything for them to be together and happy. How could she turn down such a sweet offer? ‘Please, Cal and Lia mean the world to me. If anything had happened to them at Moonrise, I wouldn’t be here. I owe their lives to you. And if you did not save me, make me see what kind of master Lorroakan was, Cal and Lia wouldn’t be here with me where they belong. I would still be being assaulted by a mad man. I could never, even if I lived a million years, I could never repay you for what you’ve done for my family and me.’

‘Rolan…’ Zelphie spoke softly, and Rolan kept his eye contact with her. She felt her eyes sting and she shut them.

‘Might I ask you what you’re thinking?’ Rolan asked her. She felt his hands in hers. She opened her eyes and looked at him once more. What a difference a few life changing events could make. One their first meeting, Rolan was obnoxious and annoyed at Zelphie. Their next few meetings Rolan would have leveled her. Now? Now she would consider him a very close friend.

‘I’m thinking too much, as I usually do,’ she said with a sad little smile.

‘Would you be unhappy here?’ He asked her and she shook her head quickly.

‘No, no no, it’s not that, not at all. No, I adore the three of you. I’m honored you would have me,’ she said and Rolan’s neck went a little red. She felt his tail twitch next to her on the sofa and he moved it away from her slowly.

‘Do you feel guilty?’ He asked her and she nodded. He chuckled and shook his head. ‘Well, that proves it right there you are an only child and orphan,’ he said and reached over for his goblet once more. He took a sip of wine and Zelphie mirrored him. Her mind was spinning. The wine, the food and the new opportunity, it was all a little much for her. That and the war she had just won hours ago. After a long drink Rolan looked back at her. ‘Maybe you will feel more…persuaded if I show you your new lodgings,’ he said and stood up, holding his hand out for her. Zelphie took another little sip and took his hand. She was helped up with a little swaying.

‘I think if I’m upgraded, I might feel more guilty,’ she said and he chuckled.

‘Don’t, for you will have restless nights hearing Lia yelling at me, or listening to me practice my incantations,’ he said and she giggled.

‘Still more calm than camp. You know what calms a githyanki to sleep at night?’ She asked Rolan as he led her from the sitting room. He looked down at her and shook his head. ‘Sword sharpening. Hours and hours of sword sharpening,’ she said and Rolan laughed, looking ahead.

‘Not too many of those here, I’m afraid. There were a lot of weapons tucked away, but I had them given to the Flaming Fist for the battle. What need did we have for them?’ He said and Zelphie just smiled up at him. He glanced down at her, a little proud of himself. He knew Zelphie and her selflessness would have liked to hear that. He smiled at her smile, his blush never fading his already reddened skin. 

‘We saw those weapons, Gale and I, when we were last here. Those were very mighty pieces, that was a wise decision,’ she told him and his smile faltered.

‘Oh, well, if I’ve impressed the Gale of Waterdeep, then I’m very happy,’ he said, poison on his lips and Zelphie frowned, but she kept her mouth shut. That was certainly a quick change of attitude. ‘Very kind of a well-off man to just leave his closest companion in the dust the second everything ended,’ he said and Zelphie’s brows stitched together.

‘Rolan, he needed to go back home. He has family in Waterdeep,’ she said and Rolan huffed.

‘And he left you behind, to live in a bungalow at best,’ he said and Zelphie stopped following him.

‘You shouldn’t speak ill of him. He took quite the liking to you, Rolan. If you are jealous of his relationship with Mystra, I can assure you-‘

‘Mystra? Jealous of him and Mystra? No, no, I’m angry at the way he threw you away like yesterday’s newspaper.’ He said, holding his hands behind his back. Zelphie’s tail began to whip back and forth. She would absolutely not tolerate anyone speaking ill of Gale Dekarios, even Rolan.

‘Threw me away? He, like everyone else, went back to their lives. He doesn’t owe me anything, certainly not more than Shadowheart or Lae’zel or Wyll or any of them. What are you talking about Rolan, why are you so upset with him?’ She asked, very confused, but angry at anyone who would put Gale Dekarios in a bad light. Rolan’s eyes narrowed and he blinked for a moment.

‘Weren’t the two of you…?’ He asked and Zelphie’s face twisted for a second. She then buckled over with laughter. Rolan had, for some reason, assumed Zelphie and Gale had an intimate relationship. Gale Dekarios was very handsome, charismatic and powerful, but no. Zelphie had only felt friendship and fondness for the wizard, not love, not that kind of love.

‘You thought Gale and I were an item?’ She asked and kept laughing. ‘Oghma’s left eye, no, no, no, definitely not,’ she said and grinned at Rolan who did not look very amused. He looked down at the floor. ‘Why would you have thought that?’

‘There were a few nights when we all stayed at the inn…I could have sworn…’ he said and bit his lip and Zelphie calmed down and nodded. She knew what he must have misunderstood.

‘At Last Light Inn? No, halfway through our adventure, Gale was given…some divine directive. From Mystra, and those nights where, yes, I’d go to him to comfort him were just that. He was battling a lot of inner demons and I was just being a friend, nothing more. So please Rolan, don’t go to battle with someone you should respect and admire as a colleague. He’s a good one for you to have,’ she said and placed a hand on Rolan’s arm. ‘Not on my account, anyway.’

‘I’m sorry, I should have asked you,’ he said and Zelphie shook her head.

‘It’s nice for someone to defend me,’ she told him and he smiled a little. ‘And it proves my point that I have tried to prove to Gale a thousand times,’ she said and her and Rolan kept walking.

‘Yes?’

‘Wizards are very fucking stubborn,’ she said and he snorted. They walked a little in silence, Rolan was feeling a touch embarrassed. Zelphie wouldn’t harp on it. She would send a sending spell to Gale to reach out to Rolan. She would have them fast friends in a jiffy.

‘Down here are Cal and Lia’s rooms,’ he said, pointing to a west wing. It was common knowledge that wizard’s towers were massive. Melphie still could not believe she was in the same building. She knew she would be getting lost. ‘My bedroom is right here, should you ever have need of me. Though, I will warn you, I’m not usually there. We’ll have a proper tour tomorrow before we all head downstairs. I’ll show you my normal hiding places,’ he told her and she nodded. ‘And I think you will do nicely just across the hall here,’ he told her, walking to a door down the hall to the right of his own room. He opened the door for her and she couldn’t help the little gasp that came from her mouth. 

The room was very large. It had a high ceiling and a balcony. Two large bookshelves covered the western wall, a canopied bed with royal blue blankets and pillows right across from them. There was a door connecting to a large washroom. Desk, a vanity and a wardrobe adorned the room as well. 

‘If there is anything you’d like to change, please feel free. I’ll be changing a lot of the comforts around here in the coming months. Please, this is your home now, make it yours in whatever way you please.’ Zelphie looked up at Rolan and beamed. He smiled down at her and nodded his head.

‘Rolan, I’m at a loss for words, this is beautiful. It’s more than I’ve ever had,’ she told him and he looked at her for a moment and nodded again. His tail swayed happily, very content with the compliment.

‘You deserve more,’ he told her firmly, sweetly. Zelphie smiled and looked down. She stepped closer to him and for the third time that evening, she hugged him tight. He hugged her back, resting his chin on her temple, their horns clinking together lightly. Zelphie felt a light moan escape from her lips at the tender feeling of her sore horns. She would not sleep easily tonight. Rolan looked down at her, worried at that sound. Goodness was his face close. ‘Sorry, they are very sore,’ she whispered and he nodded and he looked up at her horns, inspecting them.

‘Please tell me you weren’t head butting illithids,’ he said and let her go, reaching up to her horns to inspect them.

‘A girl had to do what she had to do…’ she said, but it wasn’t the truth. A tieflings horns were imposing, but not exactly strong enough to do battle like a devil or demon. Zelphie did have very large horns, so the pain she felt was from them being caught or pulled. She had been thrown around by enemies who got close enough to her. Rolan raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged. ‘Truth being, they were usually used against me,’ she said and he sighed, nodding. No tiefling living could say they were never at least bullied with a horn push or pull. He still pressed a finger to the crown of her left horn, rubbing up lightly. It hurt a little, but a purr was brought through her throat. Rolan stopped touching her immediately.

‘Was that alright?’ He asked, completely red in the face. Zelphie felt her own skin burn and her happy tail fell and she felt it coil around her leg in embarrassment.

‘Yes, sorry, it felt nice,’ she said softly and Rolan nodded. He took a while to think about his next words and Zelphie bit her lip. She was about to wish Rolan a good night, but he spoke first.

‘I’ll get some oil for you, we’ll see if they just need a massage,’ he said and nodded.

‘Oh, you don’t need to,’ Zelphie told him and he smiled a little at her.

‘I’d like to,’ he said simply and turned on his heel. Zelphie noticed the happy curl of his tail as he left the room. He wasn’t going to be easily swayed off, that was for sure. Zelphie knew that, she meant what she had said, wizards were stubborn and Rolan was a prime example of that. He was stubborn, confrontational, proud and fiercely protective. Zelphie knew now that was probably the guilt he felt. The same guilt she felt when others took care of her. She understood him, and she would continue to not allow his blunt speech upset her. The truth was, she adored Rolan, just as she did Cal and Lia. And the other tieflings that she had grown so close to, Alfira, Lakrissa, Bex and Danis, all of them. The siblings were priority to her. They were good people, happy people, and people that deserved the world in her eyes. Even more so now. 

Zelphie walked to her new bed and sat down on it. The mattress was plush as anything she'd ever sat on. She giggled to herself, thinking of how she would get out of it in the morning. She touched the soft blanket, running her hands over it gently. What a difference, she’d never lived like this before. Her mind flashed to an idea of how her new housemates might have lived back in Elturel, its descent into Avernus. She shook her head, not wishing to let her drunk imagination run wild on that subject. She heard a loud crash outside and lifted herself off the bed. She walked to the balcony doors and opened them. Fireworks. Someone was shooting them off and she smiled. Rolan was right, the view was beautiful, she had a view of the river. She was a very lucky tiefling.

‘Exploring?’ A voice called from behind her. Zelphie turned around and smiled, seeing Rolan again, a little tincture in his hand. Her tail moved back and forth happily.

‘Someone is setting off fireworks,’ she said happily. Rolan smiled down at her and looked off as another few were set off.

‘Here I was, hoping you would get a good night’s rest,’ he said and walked past her to the edge of the balcony. ‘But, it’s the very least the city can do to celebrate its hero,’ he said and glanced back at Zelphie. She walked over and stood next to him.

‘Baldur’s Gate has many heroes,’ she corrected him and he gave her a sly little smirk. ‘At least one of them on this balcony,’ she said and gave him a playful nudge. He gave a proud little huff.

‘Oh please, that compliment cannot come from you. I wouldn’t even have had power the cannons gave you if not for you,’ he told her and she smiled. ‘Shall we?’ He asked her, nodding back inside. She followed him back into the room. Rolan sat on the bed and Zelphie sat on the floor in front of him, her back in between his legs. ‘Please tell me if this hurts,’ he told her and Zelphie closed her eyes, bracing for pain. Pain did not come. Starting at the crown of her horns, she felt his fingers gently glide. ‘When I was younger, I was bullied relentlessly. Other children had no issue grabbing me by my horns and pushing me around,’ he spoke and Zelphie opened one eye. ‘My horns very rarely went without being sore. This would always help,’ he continued and Zelphie closed her eyes again, relaxing. He had such a soft, low voice, very pensive. Between his voice and the massage, she would fall asleep like a brick. She leaned back, her purring continued and her tail coiled around Rolan’s leg. ‘It’s alright, right?’ He asked her and she nodded slowly.

‘Yes, you’re so good, Rolan,’ she said softly. She meant it. It felt wonderful. She had never been massaged before, not really, nothing like this. ‘You have a wonderful touch,’ she added. His fingers moved up her horn and she shuddered. It hurt a little, but the chills were worth the pain. Where did all of this gentleness and care come from?

‘Thank you,’ he said softly, very happy with the praise. It was not long into this lovely treatment that Zelphie leaned against Rolan’s leg and felt her aching body weigh heavy. ‘Such a simple thing to be taken care of, but it means the world, doesn’t it?’ He kept talking softly. Zelphie did not respond. She was still purring and her tail was still around his leg. ‘Zelphie?’ He called out softly. Nothing. She was asleep. Rolan froze for a second, not sure what to do. He moved a little and she stayed still. Rolan got off of the bed and shuffled away from Zelphie. It hadn’t taken very much to send her to sleep. She slumped up against the bed. Rolan pushed the blankets to the side and looked back at Zelphie. A strong transmutation spell would do the trick. Not that he liked using magic on an unconscious friend, but it was just to help her into bed. Slowly her body lifted off of the floor and he was able to drop her gently on the bed. He covered her with blankets and left. Zelphie slept the deepest sleep of her life that night, ready to take on what tomorrow would have brought.

[yennefer-of-vengerbergs]

Elven Storm - Chapter 2 - Nothing is trivial

General fic information: Rating: E

Pairing: Astarion x Syanna (The Dark Urge OC)

Summary: Syanna knows nothing of her life from before waking up aboard a Nautiloid ship. All she knows is that there is a tadpole burrowed in her head and that she needs to get rid of it. And maybe her newfound companions can prove to be useful in this endeavor. Or maybe she grows to be a different person, someone who is capable of kindness, of overcoming her own nature, of valuing the friendships she found. And maybe, she and Astarion learn how to love and be with each other along the way too.

Overall fic tags (will be updated as more chapters are posted): Astarion/F!Durge, Canon compliant, Canon typical violence, During canon, Post-canon, Act 1 spoilers, Act 2 Spoilers, Act 3 spoilers, The Pale Elf spoilers, The Urge spoilers, Explicit sexual content, Mentions of Astarion's trauma, Appearances from the other companions

Genre(s): Adventure, Romance, Smut, may include angst and comfort at times

Divider from here

Read below or on AO3. Comments are appreciated so please feel free to leave them 💖

<- Chapter 1

“A hand? Anyone?”

After everything that had happened, Syanna thought that nothing else could surprise her that day. Instead, she found herself in front of a sigil, its magic erratic and dangerous, as if it was malfunctioning, a man’s hand sticking out of it. 

And how she would have liked to break that hand, then to hack it off…

She didn’t realise when she had reached towards the man’s hand, ready to act on that little fantasy of hers. 

Not again…

Syanna slapped the hand away instead. 

“Ow!” whoever was stuck inside the portal pointed a finger at her. “Perhaps I should have clarified. A helping hand? Anyone?”

It was obvious to Syanna that before anything else could happen, something would have to be done about the sigil’s magic. She reached out towards it once more, attuning herself to its magic, willing it to quiet down.

And once he’s out, the false sense of security nestled in, imagine the maiming, the hurt, the blood.

“Whatever you’re doing, it’s working wonders!” reaching forward more, he then continued, “Now a quick little pull should do the trick.”

Ignoring the growing urge to maim, Syanna reached for his hand once more, pulling him out of the portal. And just in time, it seemed, as once he was out, the portal had closed.

Groaning and dusting himself off, the man then introduced himself. 

“Ooft… hello. I’m Gale of Waterdeep.” he then shook her hand, “Apologies, I’m usually better at this.”

Syanna couldn’t help but raise a quizzical eyebrow at that.

“At introductions?”

“At magic.” he then seemed to recall something, “Say, but I know you, don’t I? In a manner of speaking. You were on the nautiloid as well.”

Interesting. Just how many people had been infected? And how many had survived?

Syanna nodded. “I was, yes.”

“Then I can only assume you too were on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region, were you not?”

Descriptive, to say the least.

She couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose.

“I couldn’t have phrased it more repellently if I tried.”

A good-natured smile appeared on Gale’s face.

“No use sugarcoating it, is there?” he then continued, “The insertee we speak of, this parasite - are you aware that after a period of excruciating gestation, it will turn us into mind flayers?”

Syanna nodded once more, and Gale continued. “It is a process known as ceremorphosis, and let me assure you: it is to be avoided.” 

Whatever could have given him that idea, she wondered…

“And here I was thinking tentacles would be the latest fashion statement…” 

Her joke seemed to fall flat.

“Questionable sense of style aside, you don’t happen to be a cleric by any chance, do you?”

Syanna shook her head.

“A doctor?”

Another shake of her head.

“Surgeon?”

The same.

“Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?”

Syanna sighed before replying, her sarcasm obvious.

“The best I can offer is a sword. Or a dagger. Arrows too, if we’re talking finesse.” 

That certainly seemed to cause him some alarm, at which point Shadowheart had deemed it wise to intervene.

“You seem to know enough about our condition to realise it is beyond most clerics’ skills.”

Turning his attention to Shadowheart, he carried on.

“Most, no doubt. But I find myself hoping to be in the presence of the few.” he then looked at the small group in front of him, still somewhat hopeful. “You don’t happen to be one of them?”

“I’m afraid not.” Shadowheart answered.

“In this case, we’re most certainly going to need a healer, and soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more-” he gestured, first to himself, then to Syanna and the other two members of the group, “-and look for one together?”

It certainly would be beneficial to have another person added to the small group that was forming, that much she would concede.

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Syanna agreeing to his suggestion certainly seemed to please him.

“Most excellent. A parasite shared is a parasite halved. Or something to that effect.” suddenly realising something, he then continued, “Oh! But before you think you’re about to embark on a journey with most ill-mannered a man: thank you for pulling me out of that stone. It was an act of foresighted kindness, I assure you, for I have the feeling ample opportunities will present themselves for me to return the favour.” 

Once introductions had been made, the group had set off, conversations happening every now and then between them.

Gale had gone ahead and approached Syanna, wanting to ask her a question.

“You’re not versed in magic, are you?” 

She couldn’t help but bristle at that.

“Excuse me?” she raised an eyebrow as she continued, “Of course I am, I have just as much magic as you.”

Realising his faux-pas, Gale quickly clarified. 

“Oh, I do apologise. I meant to ask - are you studied in magic? Namely, are you a wizard? Which you are not.”

She couldn’t help but sense a hint of superiority from him, and briefly wondered if all wizards were like that. 

“Studied or not, I wasn’t the one stuck in my own portal, was I?” 

Raising a finger, as if to quieten his audience, Gale began his explanation.

“Ah, but it was not my portal per se. I don’t know what transpired exactly, but when the ship broke into pieces, and I suddenly found myself in freefall, plummeting to certain death, I spied a glimmer quite near where I estimated my body to impact with less-than-savoury propulsion. Recognising this glimmer to be magical in nature, I reached out to it with a Weaving of words and found myself on the other side, as it were.” pausing for a moment, he then continued, “In any case, if you meet any elder wizards, let me know. There is a matter I’d like to seek advice on from a master.”

At that point, Syanna wasn’t sure she ever wanted to meet an elder wizard. 

“So, we’ve picked up a wizard who managed to get stuck in his own portal? Hardly a promising introduction.”

Syanna smiled, amused at Astarion’s comment, as she continued going through the loot she had found in a broken crate. 

“And he called me ‘not versed in magic’. The audacity, honestly.”

It was Astarion’s turn to be amused by her.

“Hah! Oh yes, the height of rudeness.”

She was examining what looked like lockpicking tools from the bottom of the crate when she noticed Astarion eyeing them.

“Do you need these?”

“Certainly, who knows what these will unlock.” he mused, more to himself.

“Well-” she handed them to him, “-here you go then.”

She most definitely didn’t know how to use them, and if Astarion did, then yes, who knew what those tools could unlock. 

For the briefest moment though, she thought she had seen confusion flash across his face, before slightly bowing his head.

“Hm..thank you.” 

Syanna nodded in acknowledgement before moving on to another crate.

“So, tell me about yourself.”

“Oh, what’s to tell? I’m a magistrate back in the city. It’s all rather tedious.” he replied, an air of nonchalance about him.

Much of the rest of their search carried on the same way, with the occasional small talk between the group, but certainly with underlying wariness.

Unsurprising, given their situation.

Even so, there was still the matter of finding shelter, or at the very least, an appropriate camping spot. 

They had already been lucky enough to find supplies and gear while searching the area, either in the broken carts or crates, or on the bodies they had found (most likely others from the Nautiloid, or those unfortunate enough to be there when the crash happened). In any case, regardless of their source, they had found plenty of necessities - food, clothing and potions, as well as a few bedrolls and tents for herself, Astarion and Gale (Shadowheart already had her own stashed along the rest of her gear that she had retrieved from the ship). Even better, they had also found a bag of holding, which would make carrying everything that much easier. 

All in all, it had proven to be a fruitful search, and once everything had been put away, the group set off once more. 

Not long after, they had found what appeared to be an abandoned chapel, which would have made for an excellent shelter while they rested. 

If it didn’t appear to have already been claimed by another group, that is. 

And it seemed that an argument was brewing between two of them, a gnome and a half elf.

“Either we act now or someone else will pick that wreck clean and leave us nothing! I swear, you’re twice as tall as me, but have half the bloody backbone!”

“But we don’t know what that thing even is. And what about the crypt?” the taller man countered, trying to make the other see his reasoning. 

“The crypt can wait! Mari and Barton have been trying to break in for days. Now we- wait a minute,” the gnome had noticed the group listening in on their conversation from behind a statue, “-got ourselves competition already. That’s our ship!” 

He certainly seemed ready to start a fight, all for the sake of that godsdamned Nautiloid wreck and the off chance they might find something even vaguely valuable.

Noticing the interruption, the rest of the group pointed their weapons at Syanna and everyone else. 

Well, if it was a fight that they wanted, a fight they would have. 

Arrows were loosed, blades clashed and spells and cantrips were cast on both sides, with more of the looters’ group appearing from inside the chapel. 

Soon enough, the fight was over, with only a few superficial wounds to show for it when it came to Syanna and the rest of the party. The same couldn’t be said about their attackers, who were all lying on the ground, dead.

Whatever urges had made their home in Syanna’s mind seemed … pleased by the outcome. And yet, they wanted more. 

More than just random thieves or looters. 

Innocents. To take out those in her group, or anyone else she came across. To kill, to hurt, to maim…

Syanna’s head throbbed, the headache she felt, growing worse. She needed something to distract herself with, something else to focus on, anything really, to take back some semblance of control when it came to her own mind. 

Something such as what exactly was in that chapel. 

“Well, we might as well take a look inside now.” 

Everyone else nodded at her suggestion, interested to see if they could find anything useful or valuable.

It was Shadowheart who voiced Syanna’s earlier thoughts. “Indeed, and maybe this could make a good shelter for the night too.” “I thought the same, but who knows if we’ll even have a peaceful evening.” She nodded towards the dead bodies of their attackers. “We might be visited by their friends, if they weren’t the only ones here.”

In the end, the group had settled for a campsite in the wilderness. The chapel would have been too much of a risk, even more so after they had explored fully, including the crypt they found within. Unexpectedly, they had yet another fight on their hands there, except it had been against several entombed scribes, who had been reanimated once the group attempted to enter a hidden room. 

Then there was the matter of Withers, the undead creature that had awoken from his sarcophagus once the fight was over. 

It was certainly an odd situation. Odder still, was the fact that he had been rather cryptic about…well, everything - from asking her what the worth of a single mortal life was, to calling himself an arbiter of certain matters. And she couldn’t forget how he had told her they would see each other again, when the time would be proper, or how, no matter what her questions were, he would only offer vague answers before leaving to tend to the crypt, as he had put it. 

Something about the entire exchange bothered her, but no matter how much she thought about it, she could not put her finger on what exactly it was. All she knew was that there was an odd sense of familiarity there, the origins of which she couldn’t pinpoint. 

So yes, it was for the best that they had found a different spot to rest. The area seemed ideal for their needs - large enough for everyone’s tents, while also allowing for some distance and a semblance of privacy. There was also a river flowing through, allowing them access to fresh water.

And they could bathe. 

All she wanted was to clean herself, followed by some rest. But there was still plenty of work ahead in setting up their camp - from putting up their tents, getting a fire going, to cooking (which Gale had already offered to do). 

It had taken a few hours, but the group was finally settled in and were either wandering the area or had taken a seat close to the campfire. 

“So, we’re resting here? Turning in for the night?” Astarion asked, trying to appear casual. 

Syanna looked at him, her eyelids heavy. 

“It’s no feather bed, but it’ll have to do. At least it’s an improvement over a mind flayer pod.” 

“I suppose. I’m not sure what I expected, really.” unease was obvious on his expression before continuing, “This is all a little new.” he then shifted his demeanour, trying once more to appear more nonchalant, “The night normally means bustling streets, bursting taverns. Curling up in the dirt and resting is…a little novel.”

“I’d say give it a try. We’ll need to be fresh tomorrow.” she replied.

“I’m in no place to rest yet. Today has been…a lot. I need some time to think things through. To process this.”

She nodded at his reply. “Understandable.”

Astarion offered a smile at that. “You rest. I’ll keep watch.”

“Thank you. I’ll rest better for that.”

Gale approached the pair, stopping in front of the campfire, seemingly deep in thought, not saying anything at first.

“Go to Hell.” 

Syanna couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that.

“We’ve already been, thank you. And it certainly did not agree with me.” Astarion commented. 

“And good evening to you too.” she added.

That seemed to snap him out of whatever it was he was pondering, before looking at both of them. 

“Hah. You’re good sports.” he then looked back at the campfire, “ ‘Go to Hell.’ An everyday expression. So trivial, it’s almost meaningless. But we’ve seen Hell. It’s real. And it isn’t trivial.” 

She supposed it wasn’t a surprise that all the events that had transpired so far would be on the wizard’s mind. Or anyone else’s, really. They certainly were on hers as well. 

“You sound a tad more dejected than when we met earlier.” she said.

Gale shook his head. “Merely contemplating. Devils, dragons, mind flayers - they used to be abstracts. Pictures on a piece of paper. Now we have tadpoles slithering through our heads like carnivorous foeti.” 

“Urgh, thank you for that grotesque image.” To say that Astarion seemed disgusted by the imagery would have been an understatement. 

Syanna definitely shared his sentiment on that, her nose wrinkling at the vivid description before agreeing with him.

“I can’t say you’re wrong. We’re in deep shit.”

“Point well made, I see. I’ll wake you bright and early. We’ll need to find a healer-” he pointed to his temple, “-before the wee one gets hungry.”

“We could also look for someone else who was on the ship - a gith woman, she seemed knowledgeable about our condition, so I would hope she knows of a cure.” Syanna proposed. 

Gale considered her words, ultimately agreeing. “It certainly seems promising. Githyanki are known to fight against the illithid, so it would make sense for them to have that knowledge as well. Let’s hope she’s still alive and nearby.”

Astarion, on the other hand, simply seemed to be contemplating what was being said. 

Then there was the way he had mentioned something about finding a way to control the tadpoles.

Something was certainly odd about that. About him.

Not long after their conversation, Shadowheart had approached Syanna, suspicion obvious on her features and in her tone. 

“What were the three of you talking about?” she had asked. 

“We were just discussing the next steps.”

“I see.” Shadowheart paused briefly, suspicion still apparent, “And what steps are those?”

Syanna considered how to answer. Things between Shadowheart and Lae’zel had started off poorly, as it was obvious that the two women did not like or trust each other from the very beginning, on the Nautiloid. Mentioning that part of the group’s plan would be to find the Githyanki would only result in an argument and more tension. She decided to keep that information to herself, at least for the time being. 

“Waking up early, looking for a healer, that sort of thing.”

Shadowheart nodded. “It’s good to see that you know just how important it is that we find someone who can cure us.”

Syanna eventually retired for the night to her own tent, but rest seemed to not be on the table for her that evening. Instead, she tossed and turned, writhing with sickly dreams, a sense of deep dread settling into her, which eventually had startled her awake. She was unsure whether or not the dreams were scraps of her past, but one thing was certain - they came with inexplicable violent urges that overwhelmed all other thoughts. 

She hated it. Hated not knowing who she was, who she had been or why she was the vessel for such thoughts and impulses. More and more, it became obvious that she was once someone awful and cruel, with something much worse than the tadpole in her head.

For a moment, Syanna contemplated her own heritage and craft. If there would be any truth hidden there. But there didn’t seem to be much point in that - she had recognized herself to be an elf, but that did nothing to narrow much down. And trying to think of what her home could have been was just as useless; her mind seemed intent on indulging in the day’s delights.

All that violence. All that blood. And tomorrow would bring the same.

As for her talent with magic? She supposed that it was a good thing that her sorcery came from her instincts, and not from her mangled head. 

Yes, her magic was not a result of whatever was happening in her head. But it didn’t change the fact that whatever possessed her mind wanted her to use that magic to hurt others.

Then there was the matter of whatever lingering battle intuitions she had. As much as she tried, she couldn’t remember how she had come to be knowledgeable about such things. All she knew was that the sly urge within her wanted her to use that knowledge to do harm. 

She wanted nothing to do with it. What she did want was to be in control of her own mind, to be her own person. 

She’d find a way to resist those urges, no matter what, if only to spite whatever or whoever it was that caused her whole situation.

She was a shivering and shaking mess as she laid there, alone with her thoughts. 

Indeed, rest would not come easily to her that night.