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minniesmutt · 7 months ago

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☾ ━━━ PAIRING: SEUNGMIN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: VAMPIRE!SEUNGMIN, HIGH FAE!READER, FEM!READER, ARRANGED MARRIAGE, RUNNING AWAY, CHEATING?, BLOOD/BLOOD KINK, FIRST TIME/VIRGINITY TAKING, BITING, PRAISE, ORAL (F. RECIEVING), FINGERING, PET NAMES (PRINCESS,), UNPROTECTED SEX, ROUGH, CREAMPIE, POSSESSIVE SEUNGMIN IF YOU SQUINT ☾ ━━━ WC: 2.5K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

Both of them would have been killed if anyone found out. He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near their land, let alone their realm. Nor was she supposed to be near his.

Y/n was always curious about everything in the land. And far beyond it too. Maybe that’s why she found herself in the mortal realm one night. Wandering the streets, admiring what it was like to be human without the responsibilities of a high fae set to wed in a year and a half.

A marriage she didn’t wish for. If she went through, she would be this king's fifth wife, much younger than his others from the rumors. She despised the thought of being with an elf that cared little for his lovers and more about his power. She wanted to escape.

Maybe that's why she believed Seungmin found her that night. The reality was he was going home and smelled her blood, non-human blood. His curiosity drew him to her. Maybe it shouldn’t have, but those elf ears and beautiful eyes lured him in.

He never believed elves were real, even though he was a supernatural being and shouldn’t exist. But when he met Y/n, the vampire was far more smitten than he had ever been in his long life.

She’d sneak over to the mortal realm every couple of days to see him. Enjoying the night and company before she returned home. Those mortal realm escapades turned into crossing borders deep in the woods where no one patrolled. Smiling and laughing. Maybe wanting more.

It was one kiss that sparked it. Seungmin never made a move until she did. She leaned in one night before he returned home and pecked his lips. Both were gone from that moment.

All those every-other-day escapades turned into every day. Sneaking out of the castle and into the arms of a vampire. One she felt safe and loved with. Enjoying the time they had when in a little over six months, they would stop this and she would be married off to a man who sought power more than anything.

“Run away with me,” Seungmin suggested as they lay on the forest floor, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Easier said than done,” Y/n sighed as she played with his fingers.

“You sneak out every night. Just don’t go back,” Seungmin told her

“Where would we go?” Y/n sat up and looked down at him

“Away from the woods that way no elf can drag you back. We’ll figure it out,” Seungmin smiled

“Min—“

“Please Y/n. You’re the first good thing I’ve had in centuries. I don’t want to give you up,” Seungmin sat up with her and pulled her onto his lap, her legs laying on either side of his. His hands holding her hips. “Please. Run away with me?”

“Let me think about it?” Y/n asked holding his face

“Of course,” Seungmin turned his head and kissed her wrist, lingering a bit, fighting his thoughts.

“Min?” Y/n drew him out

“I'm fine,” Seungmin cleared his throat, “You should go back. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“You're hungry, aren't you?” Y/n knew his tricks when he was hungry for blood—lingering on kisses, zoning out, pushing her home.

“I’ll be fine till I get back. Don't worry,” Seungmin reassured her

“You know you can drink from me, right? Don't suffer on my behalf.”

“No. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I wouldn’t let you go back if I did.”

The look in his eyes was serious. He wasn’t going to let her go if he drank from her.

“Would you ever? Drink from me?”

“I fantasize about it, honestly. Every night I wonder what if you taste as sweet as you smell. But I’m not risking someone seeing the mark. Not until I have you fully to myself,” Seungmin hugged her close to him, head resting against her chest.

Seungmin, though he didn’t say it often, loved her. If his heart could beat, it would for her. He struggled every night not to take her away from her world. Hiding her away from it.

“Tomorrow. Let’s go,” Y/n said after a few beats of silence

Seungmin lifted his head to look at her. “I thought you were going to think about it?”

“I did. Min, the option has always been you. No one and nothing else.”

Y/n leaned down and kissed the vampire under her. Seungmin immediately kissed her back with a smile. Lips molding together before pulling away.

“Go back before you get caught. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Seungmin gave her one last kiss before sending her home and crossing the border back to his realm. He knew in less than twenty-four hours he’d finally be able to bring her home.

Seungmin spent his waiting time— after eating of course— making sure he had a place set up for them. At least for a week or two till they found something permanent. Thankful Chan had offered him a place in the city away from any woods so no fae came after them. Better than the small town he was in near the woods.

He made sure the place was set up before making the drive to their spot. quite early so he waited until the time to cross. He was just in time to see her walking to their spot too. She smiled wide when she saw him—dropping what she was carrying and running to him.

Seungmin caught her as she wrapped her arms around him. “I missed you,” Y/n mumbled into his shoulder

“It’s been a day,” Seungmin chuckled

“I know,” Y/n looked up at him, holding his face in her hands, “But the idea of no longer sneaking out to be with you made it seem longer.”

“Don't start crying,” Seungmim smiled as he noticed tears threatening to fall from her lash line, “we have an eternity together.”

“Let’s go then.”

Seungmin grabbed the back she had dropped and took her hand, leading her beyond the barrier between realms for the final time. Seungmin was quick to pull her to the car and get them out of the woods. Driving into the city took a couple of hours but neither of them cared.

Seungmin held her hand the whole drive until they got to the apartment building. He pulled the car into the parking garage and parked it.

“You’re sure about spending eternity with me?” Seungmin kissed her knuckles

“It was either you or someone I’d meet on the day of my wedding. I’d choose you in any life,” Y/n assured him.

Seungmin pulled her in for a kiss before getting out of the car. He met her on the passenger side as she closed the door. Seungmin smiled as he pinned her up against the car and placed his lips on hers.

Y/n melted against him as he held her hips, her own hands on his biceps. He bit her lower lip before letting go and pulling away.

“Let’s go home,” Seungmin pulled away and grabbed her bag out of the back seat.

“I hate when you do that,” Y/n groaned as they headed into the elevator.

“Well, we have all night and day to make up for every time I've left you sexually frustrated at me,” Seungmin chuckled as the doors closed behind them and he pulled her into his chest.

“That's about half a year's worth,” Y/n told him

“Would’ve been less if we didn't stop that one night,” Seungmin leaned down, lips grazing hers

“Hm. I was under the impression at the time I was still going to be married off and had to stay pure,” Y/n told him as the elevator dinged on their floor

“Not anymore,” Seungmin pecked her lips before picking her up and walking out of the elevator.

Y/n wrapped her legs and arms around him and giggled. She never thought she’d be as happy as she was. Let alone with a vampire of all creatures.

Seungmin set her down momentarily to unlock the door and dragged her inside. Tossing the bag down somewhere before pushing her up against the closed door and letting his lips attach to hers again.

Y/n held the nape of his neck as she returned the kiss. His tongue ran across her lip and she let him inside. Their tongues danced around each other for a moment before he pulled back and picked her back up. Legs wrapping around his waist.

“All mine now,” his kisses ran down from her jaw to her collarbones and back up.

One kiss lingered for a second at her pulse point. Y/n looked down at him as she tangled her fingers in his hair.

“Can I?” it was a vague question but they both knew exactly what was being asked

“Yes.” There wasn't a need to think about it either. She’d permitted him the prior night but he still asked

Seungmin kissed the skin one more time as his fangs made their appearance. “Tell me if it's too much,” He told her, hands holding her hips.

“Alright,” Y/n replied as the tips of his fangs tickled her skin.

A moment later they sank into her neck. The warm blood flowed into his mouth as she gripped his hair. Letting out a moan and squeezing her legs tighter. Never did she believe him when he said a vampire bite could be so pleasure-inducing.

“Min,” Y/n groaned as he pulled his teeth out of her and licked the wound, picking up stray drops of blood.

“Taste just as sweet as you smell,” His voice was low in her ears.

Y/n crashed her lips onto his in haste. “Need you,” she mumbled against his lips. The slightest taste of blood was still there.

He didn't waste time moving them to the bedroom, as messy as the walk was. He finally got them there, a big of clothing having been shed along the way— his sweater and t-shirt, her corset (which he ripped off since he was far too impatient to untie), and her shirt as well.

Seungmin laid her down on the bed as his lips moved to her neck and down to her bare chest. “So gorgeous.” he moaned as his tongue flicked her nipples and his hands worked on getting rid of her bottoms.

Y/n watched as he tossed the rest of her clothing off as he got lower to where she needed him. Lips grazing over her clit and making her squirm under him. His eyes met hers for a moment as he smirked.

A moment later he had thrown her legs over his shoulders and was making out with her cunt while two fingers were scissoring her open. One hand tangled in his dark locks while the other covered her mouth. Any noise that wanted to come out was blocked.

Seungmin caught sight of it as he glanced up at her. He took his free hand off her thigh and took her hand from her mouth, intertwining their fingers as their hands and laying them on the bed sheets.

He pulled away from her clit for a moment. “I wanna hear you, princess,” He started before diving back in.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned as his fingers curled up into her walls at just the right spot. Her legs closed around his head as her back arched up off the bed.

Seungmin pressed against the spot again as he sucked on her clit. A moment later the knot snapped and she came on his fingers. Seungmin pulled his fingers out of her and licked her clean. Letting his lips guide down onto her inner thighs, teeth growing once again before sinking them into the skin. Y/n tugged on his hair, rolling her hips a bit before he came up. Smiling as he ran his tongue along his teeth and lips, swallowing more of the crimson liquid

He pushed her legs down onto the mattress and made haste to remove his pants and boxers. It didn’t take him more than a minute before the remaining fabric was gone, joining the rest on the floor. Y/n scanned over his body, the tips of her pointy ears turning red as she caught sight of his hard cock.

“We can stop if you’re not comfortable,” Seungmin assured her as he leaned down and kissed her neck

Y/n shook her head, “I want this. I want you,” she told him

He lifted his head and kissed her lips again. Gentle. Passionate. His hands cradled her head before he pulled away. Y/n chased his lips for a moment before falling back onto the mattress.

“I’ll go slow,” Seungmin pecked her lips as he moved to line himself up at her entrance. Running the tip of his cock through her slick and using his hand to spread it along his length before he pushed the tip in.

Y/n gripped his arms as she felt the stretch. “Fuck,” she whined

“I’ve got you, princess,” Seungmin held her hips and rubbed circles into the skin as he gave her a moment to adjust. He kissed her neck to distract her as he slowly pushed in again.

Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck to anchor herself. It was an addicting feeling of pain and pleasure. Especially when she felt his teeth sink into her for a third time.

She moaned loudly from the pleasure of his bite. Seungmin used the opportunity to push all the way in. Sheathing himself inside her. Y/n pulled at his hair as he took his teeth out of her. Licking the spot and returning to kissing her neck as he slowly pulled out and played back in.

“Feel and tastes so fucking good,” Seungmim groaned as he accidentally delivered a very harsh thrust.

“Min,” Y/n moaned, not in pain.

Seungmin repeated the action once more, watching her throw her head back into the pillow. He smiled, pulling her legs up around his waist and grabbed her hands, interlacing their fingers as he pinned them down next to her head, roughly thrusting into her.

“Who knew my little princess was gonna like it rough,” Seungmin chuckled as he pounded into her.

Her walls clenched around him as he continued on. Leaning down to kiss her neck and bite into her shoulder. That bite seemed to break the knot that was forming in her lower stomach. Her legs tightened around him as her walls spasmed around his twitching cock.

Seungmin kept his pace as best he could. Hips stuttered a bit as he pulled his teeth out of her. A few more thrusts of fucking her through her high and he was stilling deep inside her. Come painting her walls white as both caught their breaths.

Seungmim pulled out of her once he calmed down. He pressed a quick kiss onto her lips before getting off the bed and grabbing a warm rag to clean her up and grabbing some water.

“Sorry for biting you so much,” Seungmin apologized as he pulled her into his arms after cleaning the both of them up.

“I don't mind. It felt good,” Y/n smiled and kissed his neck, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“Taking me away. They moved up the wedding to next month,”

“Hm. You don't need to worry about that anymore. You’re safe with me.”

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#☾━━━━ [𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒]#stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids x reader smut #skz x reader smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader smut #seungmin smut #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin x reader smut #☾━━━━ [ a different breed mini series]

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littlejuicebox · 11 months ago

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Heya!

I’ve been lurking for a while and had this idea rattling around in my brain - how do you think Astarion would be around a sweet & unassuming Tav but he can tell they’re FILTHY in bed, maybe flirting via tadpole?

Love your writing, hope you’re doing well

- 🌹

Tattoo

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for quite a while, unsure if anon will still see it! This mostly answers the prompt, I think. Perhaps a small detour lol.

Summary: Astarion thought you were an innocent, blushing virgin that night in the clearing. He misjudged you. And now you’re all he can think about.

Tags: smut, 18+, masturbation, tadpole fliritng, mentions of oral

Word Count: 1K

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It wasn’t until that night in the moonlit clearing when Astarion realized you had a tattoo. But of course, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to see your enticing bit of body art any other way.

His original intent had been to use his skills that evening in an effort to repay you for the regular feedings. His unique way of rebalancing the scales, as it were. But now that little tattoo, just below the curve of your hip, in the dip where your thigh meets your — surprisingly delicious — mound is all he can think about.

Astarion’s delved his hand in his pants more than once this week thinking about that vision alone. He hasn’t felt the urge to touch himself in decades, but the memory of that dainty bit of ink constantly taunts him throughout the day, stirring a desire he hadn’t known in ages.

He knows it’s ridiculous – it’s just a bit of ink, for god's sake – and yet, tonight he felt compelled to seek relief by wrapping his own pale hand around his cock and rubbing himself ragged once again. And now he’s sprawled in his tent, the remains of his spend still splattered over his abdomen, and his mind is starting to wander back to that night.

He’d seen tattoos on others, of course. In almost any place imaginable. Most of them were horribly done.

But you? Well, you’d certainly caught him by surprise.

You’d seemed the picture of innocence, made up almost entirely of wide, doe eyes and gullibility. Before his proposition, he’d been almost positive you were a blushing virgin. An easy target.

But to have a tattoo in such a salacious location? And then to have your hot, sinful mouth wrapped around his cock, worshiping it with your tongue, as if you’d never tasted anything better? All with those big doe eyes watching his every move and clearly delighted by his own pleasure?

He hasn’t had an experience quite like that for as long as he can remember.

And, well, looks could certainly be deceiving, couldn’t they?

The taste of your blood as he sunk his sharp fangs into your soft flesh while you’d found release had been intoxicating. Part of him wants to experience it again; the other part knows – and desires to avoid – what he will have to do to achieve that particular flavor.

At this point, Astarion isn’t quite sure if he wants to proposition you again or not. Sure, the first time was satisfactory. Perhaps even a bit enjoyable. But still—

Suddenly, the rogue feels a tugging on the edge of his mind, ripping him from his musings. He recognizes this sensation, it’s a tadpole mind link. But something about this is… different. It isn’t accidental, it’s intentional. Someone in camp is reaching out to him.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Good thing he’s immortal.

Against his better judgment, Astarion opens his mind to the call. And there you are, waiting for him.

"I'm surprised you’re still awake,’ You say, and the silver-haired elf is shocked to hear your voice as if you’re right next to him. Interesting.

‘How did you realize we could do this?’ Astarion asks, and he hears your entertained laughter tinkle in the background of his psyche in response.

‘Shadowheart and I figured it out sometime last week. We’ve only used it to talk shit about everyone thus far.’ You reply, clearly proud of your discovery and thrilled by your own behavior.

‘Everyone?’ The rogue asks, not pleased about being the topic of you and your apparent best friend’s judgment.

‘Almost everyone,’ You amend, and there’s a brief flicker of affection in your psyche towards Astarion that you’re certain he notices before you quickly stomp it down.

You feel a ripple of Astarion’s own satisfaction at your amendment. He’s glad to not be the topic of your more unkind thoughts.

‘What are you still doing awake, darling?’ The vampire questions, ‘You are normally the first one snoring.’

There is the smallest wave of offense, and then a resigned acknowledgement at the truth in his statement. A pause of the mental conversation ensues as you seem to carefully weigh your next thoughts and move around in your tent.

‘I can’t sleep. Too much excitement today, I think. Too much pent up energy,’ You start, and then flash a vision through your own eyes, showing Astarion as you look down at your own barren mound, ��Care to come and help me… release some of the tension?’

Astarion can see the tattoo through your eyes, greeting him in a sensual hello as you drag your fingers down it, on the way to touch yourself. Gods damn it.

He wants to take you up on your offer, but then he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t know what he wants. So instead he dances around the topic, avoiding an answer, with a flirtatious admission of his own.

‘I’m afraid I have taken care of my own needs for the night,’ He replies, flashing you the quickest view of milky white liquid now beginning to dry upon his stomach.

A ripple of disappointment on your end. And then another pause.

‘Well… even though I wasn’t extended the same kind offer, you’re welcome to watch me as I take care of my own needs for the night.’ You offer, now teasing between your folds more insistently. You send the rogue another vision of your needy sex and two fingers now shining with arousal, ‘Via tadpole… or in person.’

Astarion has never thrown his shirt on and walked across the camp faster. In his haste, he broke the tadpole connection. But you hear him coming and barely peel back the flap of your tent, displaying the briefest sliver of your naked form.

The vampire pauses for a moment on the outside of your tent, debating if this is the right move. You’re still touching yourself, he can hear the slickness of your sex from here.

“Hurry up, Astarion,” You whisper, somewhat impatiently, as the urge to find release builds within you.

Fuck it, he thinks. He wants to run his tongue along that tattoo again, even if that’s all he does.

He quickly delves into the tent and ties it closed behind him without another thought.

Eventually, he does drag his masterful tongue along that tattoo, and around many other parts of your tempting body, after he decides to help you find a second release.

Simply watching the first one had been enough to make you almost irresistible. He wanted to sink his fangs into you again. Perhaps in your thigh this time, if you’d allow it.

Like a tattoo, his nights tasting you left him permanently altered.

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion smut #astarion reader smut #astarion reader insert #astarionxreader smut #astarionxyou smut #baldurs gate smut #baldurs gate 3 smut #smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!reader

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midnightwind · 14 days ago

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Summary: Killing 5 Venatori to escape was easy, trying to get a read on the two elves waiting outside his cell was proving the harder challenge for Lucanis. Takes place directly after the introduction cinematic for our favorite assassin.

Word Count: 5794

Mage.

The demon’s voice curled at the edges of his thoughts, almost purring the word as he stared at the two women blocking his way out. There was a fascination to it, but also a hunger, a pull the spirit felt. He watched its ghostly form stalk around the tanned elf, pulling in huffing breaths. It pawed at her red hair, as if trying to capture a lock between its fingers. Frustration growled from the spirit, turning instead to stare into her slate eyes.

Smells sweet. New scent. What is it? So sweet…

He blinked in confusion, taken aback. In the year since the demon had been forced into him, it had expressed curiosity only a handful of times. The pure rage of being trapped usually took up most of their stay. It unsettled him how Spite was suddenly enamored with a stranger. It felt foreboding. Then the demon was twitching to look at the woman’s companion. Another elf, dressed in bright leathers with her dark hair gathered in a messy bun. She seemed to vibrate with nerves and energy in equal measure, with heavy looking metal… contraptions, for lack of a better word, wrapped over her arms.

Dusty. Reeks of magic. Stolen. Borrowed. Found. Smells of ancient.

And then it was back to prowling around the redhead, a starving grin cracking its face. It caused a scowl to crease his own. Anything or anyone that captured the demon's attention like this was trouble. He shouldn't have even given them pause. A few more knife flicks and he'd be on his way to freedom. The cold calculation of his work was washing through him, but then Spite was surging to stand in front of him, causing him to jump.

Smell good. Maybe help? Finally! Let us out! Free us! Outoutout!

The thoughts were a deluge, slamming into his mind like a tidal wave. It scattered him for a moment, causing his head to swirl. He tightened his grip on his daggers, leather and steel biting into his palm. The weight of his weapons centered him, but before he could pull himself into familiar, deadly action, Spite's fascination was speaking.

“You must be Lucanis Dellamorte.” It wasn't a question. Her eyes seemed to almost shine as she looked him over.

She knows you.

He narrowed his eyes. “Who sent you?” And then his brain finally recognized the armor she wore. “You're a Crow.” She was sporting the leathers tailored for mages, loose sleeves trailing her motions. Had another House put a price on his head? Did this mean he had been properly abandoned here?

Before the doubts could work themselves into a proper panic, she was giving him a flourishing bow. “Of House de Riva. It's an honor.” It sounded almost genuine, voice tinged with a laugh. Then her head flicked up slightly, her gaze meeting his. “Caterina sent us. She’d like you home.”

Hope swelled in his chest, bittersweet and sickly. He hadn't been forgotten, but it was too late wasn't it? He was far too changed, now. A monster in human skin. It was a cruel twist of fate. He pulled in a long breath, finally sheathing his daggers. A member of Viago's House meant this was likely genuine. Rescue had come and he could trust that. So long as the other Crow led, he wouldn't have to worry about a poisoned blade nicking him. A second assassin would make his job easier, too.

“I still have a contract here. I need to kill Calivan, but before I can do that we need to find the vial of my blood they took.” He had to grind the words from his throat, disuse trying to choke them back down. “They can use it to control me otherwise.”

The other elf finally spoke up at that as she almost cowered behind the Crow. “Because of the demon.” Her voice was soft, empty of malice, but the single sentence cut him to the core.

This was where they'd leave him at best, or try to kill him at worst. He felt his fingers twitch, heartbeat leaping as adrenaline surged. He'd have to kill the mage first, that was fine. He knew how to do that. She sported a knife instead of a staff, so he'd have a few seconds to close the distance as her orb was summoned. That was plenty of time to slit her throat and collide with the archer before her bow could be nocked. He'd owe Viago an apology for killing one of his Crows, but it was par for the course.

“That’s fine, assuming you're still the Mage Killer the First Talon promised me.” The mage said brightly, smiling.

She didn't move for her weapon, her hands even clapping quietly in front of her. That was baffling. The word demon sent mages into a panic, usually, all fire and brimstone raining down at the thought. Why did she look almost gleeful?

“I can still work.” He answered carefully.

“Perfect!” Relief caused her shoulders to sag for a moment. “Once we clean up your contract, I have my own for two ancient elven mages pretending at godhood. If the stories I've heard about your work are even partially true, your help would really turn the tides.”

“I…” Gods? That was a new one. “I would owe you.”

“A favor between Crows.” She closed the distance in an instant, startlingly fast, and held a hand out to him.

The sweet scent that had fascinated Spite washed over him. Red berries and jasmine. It was pleasant enough, but strong. Hiding the acrid smell of poisons and venoms with perfume was a popular cover among assassins. Given her House, it made sense. The scent was simply dizzying after his year in this pit of the ocean smelling only rotting seaweed, blood, and burning flesh. It also made him hesitant to touch her at all. His reluctance must have been obvious because she laughed, pulling her hand back.

“You know Viago, huh? I don't coat myself in poison quite as enthusiastically as him. Perfectly safe to touch!” And then she was winking at him. “Kissing less so, but you look like a gentleman.” He wasn't sure what to do with that, but she was spinning on her heel and waving at him over her shoulder. “I’m Mirenna, by the way, though people are calling me Rook nowadays. Maybe Viago mentioned me?” There was a hopeful note in her voice, a desire for acknowledgement. When he remained quiet, she let out a disappointed sigh. “Likely not by name. If you ever had to listen to him rant about an annoying protege, I apologize. I exist to annoy him, apparently.”

That did stir some faint memories of the Fifth Talon muttering about a recruit causing nothing but trouble. His tone had never been properly angry or even particularly murderous. It had always read to him as a similar energy he reserved for Illario. A sibling that needed to be scolded, but whom you loved. Now he had a face for the many complaints. The reverie was interrupted as her companion popped into his view.

“Um, I’m Bellara, by the way. It's nice to meet you. I think?” She seemed to want to say more, mouth opening before snapping shut as she scurried after the mage. “Do you really have poison on your lips, Rook?”

Rook’s eyes crinkled as a devious smile curled across her face. “Would you like to find out?”

Her voice was low, almost sultry. Tempting. It was familiar. Viago was close with Teia, it wasn't a far leap to assume that the elf would have had contact with House Cantori. The casual seduction had Teia written all over it. The perfume also made a little more sense, the initial allure of the honeytrap. His assumption that she was trouble only felt more vindicated.

Bellara tittered away from her, half laughing and half nerves. “No! I'm okay. I like not being poisoned.”

“Shame, it's a fun one.” Rook hummed. “I can give you the rundown back at the Lighthouse. We have Venatori to gut and a legendary assassin to free.”

Knows of you. Likes the idea. Spite was prowling behind her, head cocked. What would. Poison taste like?

“Not as pleasant as you want.” He muttered, voice quiet and leaden feet finally following his odd saviors.

Taste like smells? So sweet. What is scent?

“Red berries and jasmine.”

She glanced over her shoulder, a knowing smile on her lips. How loud had he said that? Turning on her heel, she walked backwards to face him.

“Offer stands for you, too.” Her voice was just as alluring as before, but she had dipped her head toward her chest, looking up at him through her lashes.

Cheeky! I like her!

He blinked blandly back at her, cursing himself for letting the demon bait him into this situation. “I'm familiar enough with what the Fifth and Seventh Talons may have taught you.”

She tilted her head to the side, mischief touching her features. “No curiosity for what their talents combined might create?”

Spite is! Let me talk. More fun.

“I am perfectly content as is.” His tone was flat, emotion scrubbed free.

Boring! Let me out! Let me talk. Spite was raking claws through his psyche, his shade looming before him as he screamed. Outoutout! You cage! You trap!

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked past her, trying not to think about the myriad of poisons she could sprinkle on his leathers at this distance. Dealing with the demon was exhausting enough, a second Teia would simply be too much. There was a quiet scuff of her boot on the rock floor as she turned back around. The silent speed that had her matching his pace shortly after was unnerving. She seemed on the verge of saying something when they finally emerged back into the facility.

A group of Venatori had been desperately trying to set up the wards again, the blood magic causing his eyes to ache. The two Crows were in motion instantly, his daggers almost leaping into his hands and a crackling orb sparking to life in hers. Lightning magic explained her speed. Bellara was a few seconds slow on shrugging her bow off her shoulder, each assassin removing a blood mage before she had an arrow loose. The smell of ozone filled the room, like the air before a storm. He had expected the mage to fight at a distance, but she peppered the Venatori with quick bolts before lunging forward with the mageknife. Her magic jolted through their bodies at the contact, their writhing forms easy prey for his blades. And then she was shooting off to swipe the enchanted blade at the next target, sweeping their legs and falling upon them with a ferocious stab.

It had been some time since he last saw a Crow mage in a melee. Watching her parry a bolt of energy back at the caster before letting loose a scorching ray from the orb, walking slowly forward as the magic ate the man alive, quashed any doubts he had about her training. She danced and dashed among swinging blades, hunted down any mage that dared to fire in her direction, and was careful to curve her dagger around his and Bellara's strikes as they navigated the field. She was skilled. By the time the Venatori were dead, he had a seed of respect for her taking root. He had been afraid the flippant energy had meant he'd be babysitting another Illario in a fight. He had been wrong.

Smells of blood. Metal and sharp. Powerful.

Wiping his daggers clean on the tunic of a dead mage, he watched her sheath her weapon and shake her hands. Almost like she was trying to regain feeling in them. When she caught his eye, she gave him another wink. He frowned, turning away to pluck the key for the door from a corpse. She followed two steps behind him, quiet for a moment.

“You don't like the tactic.” Again, not a question.

“I was never fond of Teia’s method. It is more my cousin's style.” He rested a hand on the pommel of a dagger. “I prefer being direct.”

“Oh.” There was a note of disappointment coating the word. “Teia took me for a ride. She promised it would be funny, but she meant for herself, didn't she.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, busying himself with unlocking the door. “What?”

“Told me to tease you. Said it would be hilarious.” Was she pouting? “Now I just feel like a jerk and like I made a terrible first impression.”

“Would you have preferred I swoon?” The door opened silently under his touch.

She made a noncommittal noise in her throat. “If it made you a little less gloomy, sure. Laughing would have worked, too.”

Gloomy? He imagined he would look a little worse for wear, but gloomy?

She wants. A smile?

Ah. That felt beyond him.

“Rook messes with everyone.” Bellara chimed in, hovering several steps behind him. It made him wonder how long it would take to slip a dagger between her ribs from this distance. A few seconds, just a handful of quick steps. “Usually means she likes you!”

“Should I be flattered?” There was an almost bright note to his voice as he led them through to the next dilapidated chamber, perhaps an overcorrection on his part.

“Only if she stays nice with it.” She continued, her steps gaining an almost bouncing quality as they walked.

“Don't give away all my tells, Bell!” The mage feigned injury, hand pressed her chest, but the wide smile betrayed her intent. “I'll only look cool and capable until we get back to the Diamond.”

“Oh, was Viago not done? He sure yelled at you for a long time already…” Bellara gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“He could berate me for a week straight and still have a bone to pick.” She shook her head sadly. “Such is my lot.”

The two continued their inane banter for a while longer, but he ceased to listen. Instead, he focused on the twisting pull of his would be phylactery. Normally its presence filled him with dread. It still did, as they drew closer, but there was a note of dizzying anticipation. The shedding of the final chain. Freedom. His steps quickened, pulling ahead of the two women. He led the duo toward his target, singular focus trained ahead. And then he stopped, staring at the wide chasm that yawned between him and a very enthusiastic stabbing. The path had collapsed at some point and he faltered. He didn't know the facility well enough to pick an alternative route, if one even still stood.

“Ah. Damn.” Rook muttered, chewing on her thumb. “I really hoped we wouldn't come back this way. I don't have a plan for this.”

Just walk? Path is right there.

“What?” He forgot to quiet his voice, too baffled by the suggestion.

Do you not see? Oh! A path. Just for Spite! Poor Lucanis. Needs help! The demon was definitely laughing at him. I can pull. The path through. Let me reach.

Rook had turned a confused eye to him and he groused under the gaze. “He says he can pull something through.”

“Who..?” She started, but he was already holding a hand out.

Spite had pressed itself into his body, the ghostly avatar layering over his skin. He felt the demon grab something, weighty and odd, and together they pulled. Phantasmal rubble sprang into being over the gap, an echo of what used to be. It felt draining in a strange way, an inkling that the path wouldn't stay forever.

“You can just do that?” The mage gasped.

“I'm as surprised as you.” He breathed before shaking his head. “I don't think it lasts, let's move.”

That seemed to light a fire under them as they quickly scrambled to the other side. The route grew more precarious as they went, large chunks of the facility sheared away from itself to form deadly chasms. Bellara had fallen silent, staring down at her feet as they shimmied along a crumbling wall. Rook for her part was almost trapezing along the rubble, lips curled faintly in a smile. She paused as they reached the next section of fractured flooring, head tilting.

“Demons.” Her voice was almost flat.

He stole a peek, sizing up the several prowling shades. “Zara’s pets. That’s what success looks like.”

She gave a hum at that before tossing him a wild grin. “I’ll get their attention. Looking forward to seeing you work again!”

Before either he or Bellara could object, the mage was vaulting over a broken pillar. Lightning crackled as her orb materialized, her mageknife rolling once in her hand. She took bounding steps, running the outer ring of the platform as her weapons streamed magic. The demons swarmed towards her like moths to a flame. Lucanis cursed under his breath, sliding down the slight incline to try and close the distance. Bellara had begun nocking arrows, firing into the mass from her vantage point. He wasn’t going to make it before the creatures reached the elf. Why did all his jobs go south?

He loosed a handful of throwing daggers, downing one demon and staggering another. That earned him a few more seconds. It might actually be fine so long as she kept running. Except she turned on her heel without warning, her orb shimmering into a second dagger as she lunged into the mass of monsters. She planted the two blades into the heart of one demon and then pulled. The air sounded like it was torn apart violently, a violet maw cut open with electricity and lightning slicing free. It floored several demons, easy prey for his daggers. As the magic fizzled away she was throwing out another spell, a carpet of thunder that sent her jumping backwards with a cackle. For a split second, the magic almost looked like a cloud of feathers before it too evaporated.

When the creatures finally recovered, most of them were dissipating back to the Fade. The stragglers went down easily to the dancing blades and patient arrows. He huffed as he pulled a dagger free from the steadily disappearing corpse under his boot. Rook was back to shaking her hands, bouncing from foot to foot for a moment. The sounds of rocks being displaced announced Bellara joining them on the lower platform.

“You,” he started slowly, pointing a blade at the mage, “are reckless.”

“But it tends to work.” She gave him a lopsided smile.

“Until it doesn’t.” He clipped.

“S’why I have you guys!”

“Rook…” Bellara cut in, her tone scolding.

The mage sighed, holding her hands up in surrender. “Fine, sorry. Proper plan before the next fight.”

“With any luck, our ‘next fight’ is Calivan.” There was a sharp edge to his voice now as he started to pick his way further into the facility.

She was silently at his side again with no warning. “Was there a specific way you wanted to deal with him? It is your contract, after all.”

“Oh, do Crows not usually work together?” Bellara asked, popping up on his other side.

Rook hummed, shrugging. “If you belong to the same House and your Talon tells you to? Then sure. Between Houses is more rare, but poaching a contract is frowned upon. Unless they super fuck it up, anyways. Besides just being rude and an insult, the buyer can use it to try and weasel out of paying which causes all sorts of issues. But since I’m here on a contract for the First Talon, I think we’re good. I don’t plan on trying to cash in on the Calivan contract either.”

“If you help me take him down,” Lucanis cut in quietly, “you would be entitled to the reward.”

She gave him a queer look at that, head tilting slightly. “Viago would likely take any gold I make. Besides, your whole thing is killing mages. I don’t want to get in your way.”

��And here I thought you had a fondness for attention.” He mused.

A wide grin slowly stole across her face. “Is the Demon of Vyrantium teasing me?”

“Surely not, I’m gloomy after all.”

“Bell, I need you to pinch me.” She extended an arm behind his back, causing every alarm in his mind to scream. “This has to be a dream.”

The sound of the other elf gently slapping her hand away with a laugh had him quickening his steps. They responded well enough if he played along, good to know. It kept them distracted, but that had its uses. He didn't fully trust having another Crow from an ostensibly rival House at his back, but he could only dedicate so much worry towards her right now. If Caterina had truly given de Riva the contract to rescue him, she was maybe safe enough.

He had a bigger target to focus on. Confronting Calivan had a few ways to play out. If they were lucky, he was holed up in a chamber with deep shadows and high perches. Dropping on the man from above to crush the air from his lungs as daggers bit deep would be ideal. Quick but brutal. Given the state of the facility, however, it was far more likely the mage would be in an annoyingly open area with next to no cover. Getting to punch him into submission had its allure, but it was messy. Unreliable. Dangerous. He did have a mage and ranged support, so a head to head confrontation would likely go better than usual. It made him uneasy, but a little trust would go a long way.

“When we find Calivan,” he started suddenly, voice even, “if he's in a place where I can take him down from stealth, that works perfectly. I think it more likely he'll see us coming a mile away with the state the Ossuary is in. Which means I'll likely be the distraction whether I want to or not.”

“I'll make sure to shock him within an inch of his life for you.” Her grin had a hungry edge to it this time, the job bringing a sharp focus.

“Helping with a Crow contract…” Bellara sounded almost in awe at the idea. “The Jumpers won't believe me.”

“We gotta find him first.” Rook hummed before she stopped suddenly, catching the edge of his leathers and tugging gently to have him follow suit. He almost wrenched it violently from her grasp, a year of bad memories leaping up at the touch. “Lots of Fade activity ahead. It's a mage at the very least, could be Calivan though.”

“Quick and quiet, then.” He murmured the little mantra, blades snapping into his hands as he prowled forward.

It was, unfortunately, not their target or his blood vial. Instead it was an underling trying to fend off loose demons. They simply waited for the mage to finish killing off the monsters before quietly approaching and putting an end to the Venatori. The next few chambers were just as disappointing. More demons and abominations to be put down to clear the path, the facility seeming to hold an obnoxious amount of them. The tug was growing more incessant and there was a sense of familiarity to the area. He'd walk this path many times on the way to the Venatori lab. His stomach twisted at the thought. That singular room held many horrors for him.

For us. Spite hissed.

There was a nagging worry as they entered the large chamber that functioned as a torturous lab. If they didn't want to break his phylactery, if instead they wanted to use it, would he have time to stop them? Would it be better to lead the way, forcing them to pass him to seize control, or hover behind them, daggers hungry?

He was playing and replaying the scenario in his mind as they took in the remains of the less fortunate subjects. When they quietly destroyed the many Venatori crystals locking them out, he was favoring the plan that let him bury a knife in each back with one strike. He let them walk in first, eyes watching their weapons carefully as they beheld the sizable phylactery.

“I’m guessing the monstrous vial is yours?” Rook offered weakly, trying to force a note of mirth into the words and failing.

His daggers slipped silently from their sheaths. “Destroy it and let's move on.” His voice was level, not quite emotionless, but peaceful. Encouraging.

“Should we-” Bellara started, but she cut herself off with a yelp.

The vial exploded without warning as Rook flung her mageknife at it. The loud shattering was the most beautiful sound he had heard in his life. She shifted a foot back, bracing, as the fiery laser leapt from her hand again. The blood concoction ignited, burning any lingering connection to a crisp. His daggers were sheathed in the next instant, eyes fixed on the mage. There was a familiar cold calculation to her features, the Crow focus brushing aside the lopsided grin. There was a deeper emotion buried in it, almost like a fury. That was interesting.

Free. Spite seemed to breathe the word. She freed us. She hated. The final chain. Why?

Maybe she knew something about being controlled like that. Maybe as a mage she simply had a dislike for phylacteries. Maybe the mere thought of dominating someone like that sat ill with her. He didn't have an answer for the demon. So he remained quiet as they boarded the elevator, focusing instead on carving his path to Calivan. Killing the man wouldn't make up for what had been done to him, but it would feel good. He'd take the scrap of positivity.

His mind turned back to planning, imagining sinking a dagger to the hilt in his tormentor. If they gave him the time, there were several places he could plant a knife before finally killing the man. A little payback would be nice. Some kind of retribution for the cruelty.

“So,” Rook's voice sliced through his murderous fantasy abruptly as Bellara seemed to huff next to her, “what's Caterina like, usually?”

Was she trying to fill the time? Couldn't she have asked anything else? He couldn't help the bitterness in his voice. “I've been gone so long, I fear I don't remember.”

She seemed to flinch, a quick hunching of her shoulders. “Right. Well… we’ll have you reunited soon enough it won't matter.”

The elevator thunking to a stop saved them both from trying to salvage the conversation. Rook led them down the crumbling hallway with quick steps, a sharp focus coming over her. She was almost darting forward, seemingly appearing on top piles of rubble to look ahead. She had pulled the hood of her leathers up to hide her shocking red hair as she scouted. An unhappy hum escaped her as she bounded back to them.

“Big open space. Might be some side rooms, but… we should be ready for a fight with little cover.”

Iron and salt. Screams and curses. Blood for blood. Kill Calivan.

It felt like Spite was clawing at the world from behind his eyes. He rolled his shoulders, neck cracking. “Time to work. Ready?”

Bellara swallowed heavily, but gripped her bow tightly in hand and nodded. “If he doesn't know Rook and I are here, then that gives us an edge.”

The mage flicked her mageknife into hand, the blade glinting as her orb crackled to life. “Quick and quiet.” It was unto a prayer for their work, her features sharp and focused.

“Quick and quiet.” He echoed before he stepped into the open.

The Venatori mage was waiting for them, in a sense. A ritual circle was carved into the floor, a permanent fixture to the chamber. He had been turning a slow circle, observing the runes, when Lucanis stepped into the open. The jailer clicked his tongue in almost disgust, an exaggerated shrug lifting his shoulders.

“Of course it’s you.” He spat. “Zara and her little jests. ‘He’s already the Demon of Vyrantium! Won’t this be ironic?’ We should have killed you months ago when the demon never manifested. Waste of time and effort.”

The Crow didn’t wait, daggers in hand as he sprinted towards the man. If the monster wanted to taunt, let him waste the air. The Fade fizzled as glaring red orbs sprang up around his target, forcing him to spend precious time dodging left and right. He caught a brief blur out of the corner of his eye as his knife lunged out. The blade caught against the mage’s staff, his offhand punching towards the man’s gut. The burn of magic in the air stung his eyes, his strike missing as the Venatori fade stepped away. The scream that followed from the mageknife biting into his back brought a ravenous grin to his lips.

Rook had used his initial rush to dart around the little piles of rubble and crumbling pillars. Calivan had positioned himself directly in front of her hiding place and she had wasted no time capitalizing on it. Her magic sparked along his body, shimmering as it pinged off the barrier so common to mages. Calivan spun with a snarl, swinging his staff towards her, but she tossed out her own spell. The carpet of electric feathers blinded the man as she darted back into the shadows.

“You made friends. Was the demon not enough?”

The taunt was met with two daggers swinging for his neck, the barrier cracking heavily under the dual strike. He snarled, a wave of red crystals erupting from under his feet that left a flaming trail. It forced Lucanis to leap backwards, daggers held defensively against a follow up attack that never came. An arrow cracked loudly against the barrier and it shattered as Calivan half turned with the strike, a red line cut into his cheek. Spite surged at the smell of blood, a fury and glee rushing through his limbs with such strength it caused his hands to shake.

Blood for blood! Screams and curses! Iron and salt!

The manic chanting caused his head to swim, his step faltering. It earned him a crimson bolt in the shoulder. The pain grounded him and he let the attack’s momentum spin him into a low crouch. A throwing dagger was plucked from his belt and loosed in the motion, gifting the mage a matching pain. Two more arrows arced towards Calivan, a zigzagging shadow rapidly approaching from behind. His angry summons sliced through the air, the force of the Fade bursting open throwing the two Crows back as a lumbering demon took the mage’s place. That… that was a problem. Lightning crackled along its body as it clawed into the physical realm. Lucanis took two steps back, assessing, trying to find the weak point, bracing for an attack. A familiar mad laugh reached his ears, his gaze stuttering over to Rook.

Her orb was streaming magic again, held aloft like a beacon as a wide grin split her lips. “Now there’s a challenge!”

She was taunting demons again. It turned on her with a starved hunger, blade lashing out. Lightning arced along her legs, the air burning with her magic and she seemed to blink around the strikes the demon aimed at her. Her cackle matched Spite’s own echoing laugh in his mind. She was weaving closer and closer to the demon before her orb seemed to snap out, snagging the demon’s blade mid strike. It flicked the weapon back into the creature’s face and it staggered backwards. Three daggers and a flurry of arrows descended in an instant, the thing screeching. The next exchange of blows it managed were weaker, scattered, and Bellara managed to bury two expertly shot arrows into its core. It died with the sound of dry wood cracking.

Victory was short as Calivan manifested where the demon had stood, a look of pure fury on his face. The shimmer of his barrier was back and as he fade stepped out of the way of more arrows, several copies of himself popped into existence. They all smiled with his sickening grin, but the gloating ended abruptly. Rook had lunged forward into the center of the clones, two magic daggers sparking. The air was rended, a loud cracking of lightning heralding the devastating tear she had used earlier. Calivan staggered, alone in the center of the room and cursing. The line of spikes he sent out with a furious growl did catch Rook before she could recover from her casting, sending her staggering over a pile of rubble.

Two more arrows thudded into the man before he could chase the downed Crow. He spun with a snarl, launching a barrage towards the archer. It was all the opening Lucanis needed. He was behind Calivan like a dark shadow, one dagger slipping easily between the ribs to puncture the heart, the other drawing a quick line across the throat. The mage sputtered, hand grasping uselessly at his throat before he crumpled. Lucanis let him slide off his blade with a heavy thud.

“The Crows send their regards.” Was all he offered, bending down to wipe the blood from his daggers on the rich robes of the Venatori.

Cold and quiet! Heavy chains, scraping metal, sharp edges! Silent and gone!

The demon's celebration felt like it was rattling his teeth. Bellara was sprinting to where Rook was struggling to sit up, the mage rubbing her legs gingerly. Her leathers were singed, but she appeared fine otherwise. She was wincing as the elf helped her to her feet. With wobbling steps, she joined Lucanis over the body.

“Well, one contract down.” A lopsided grin settled on her lips.

Lucanis nodded, his response drowned by Spite.

Smells like blood. Ashes. Not done. Not yet!

His eyes narrowed as he stared at the demon manifesting at his side, to the point where he almost missed Rook's question.

“Lucanis? Are you good?”

Careful. They know. We're not right.

“You cannot see him. I had wondered…” His voice was tinged with weary curiosity.

“Alright, vaguely ominous. But more on all that later.” She waved it away. “I'm tired of the ocean, aren't you?”

An earnest laugh rumbled in his chest. “More than you know. Lead the way.”

She seemed to beam at his response. “Oh, does your plus one have a name or… title? How do demons like to be addressed…”

A wry smile tugged at his lips as they filed out of the chamber. “It's Spite.”

#Merry Christmas I'm getting way too stuck on trying to edit this piece so just have it lmao #the POV switch to Lucanis was simply because I wanted to write Spite so bad guys #maybe this piece will change slightly for the fic proper maybe it won't idk #but almost 6k words felt like a good point to throw it out to the world lol #Renn on this entire mission like “don't fuck this up don't embarrass yourself he's a living Crow legend be cool-”#she sort of succeeds at it #Lucanis #Lucanis Dellamorte #Spite #Rook #Bellara #Renn #Renn de Riva #my writing #fanfic #Rookanis #me forgetting the ship tag every single time lmaoooo made the slow burn so slow my brain forgets it's happening

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portablebones · 5 months ago

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Up to You.

astarion x gn!tav

sfw, fluff with a little internal angst on astarion's end

a re-imagining of astarion's scene with the gur monster hunter, but it's really just a short & sweet exploration of how he deals with being given a choice.

wc: ~500. might make it more detailed later.

"Astarion, please don't."

The elf stopped dead in his tracks. “Please?” he thought, turning back towards his companion.

"My dear, if you're trying to beg for this man's life, you'll need to do better than that." Despite his taunting, he remained where he stood. "That wasn't exactly...forceful."

"It was more of a request. I can't make you do anything. You've made that pretty clear," Tav chuckled darkly as they looked away. "Besides, that's not really my style." A moment of silence. Then they sucked in a breath, and met his gaze. "Look, I really don't think he needs to die-- but it's up to you."

Astarion only stared back. Then he sheathed his dagger, and walked away without another word, a strange mixture of lightness and anger pooling in his soul. He was sure he wanted to kill the Gur, to feel the man's warm blood pour over his hands. This was all it took to stop him? One measly, pathetic, "please?"

He had been so sure that now, he was unstoppable. He had escaped from Cazador, from mind flayers, from the Nine Hells themselves. For gods' sakes, he was a vampire who could walk in the sun! He shouldn't care what Tav thinks, he could have overpowered them easily! But despite assuring himself of these truths, he remained face to face with a chance at revenge he was given, but did not take. A choice he alone made.

A choice he made.

His reverie was interrupted by heavy footfalls behind him.

"How...do you walk...so fast?" Tav could scarcely breathe, and already they were asking questions. Astarion rolled his eyes.

"I think you're just slow, darling. Besides, perhaps I wanted a moment alone to think about all the ways I could have had my vengeance..." The vampire sighed dramatically, looking pointedly at a now red-faced Tav. He was only teasing, but their wide eyes betrayed their worry.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-- I'll leave you alone," they sputtered. "I didn't mean to make you upset, I just-- I didn't want him to die and I didn't think you'd actually listen to me..."

Astarion stopped walking. "Darling, I'm hurt! Of course I listened to you." He raised his hand to his heart in mock offense. Then, he shifted side to side. "But, just out of curiosity... what was your plan if I hadn't?"

Tav just looked at him.

"I... I dunno. To go through his pockets after you killed him?"

Astarion blinked, then blinked again. Slowly, a wry smile cracked his porcelain features, before he broke into laughter. Tav wasn't far behind, and soon the two of them were quite a sight, doubled over and wheezing on the side of the road.

Astarion didn't exactly need to breathe, but he still felt winded from his laughter after it subsided. As he straightened his posture, he turned to look at Tav, their smile bright as they wiped tears from their face; and he silently thanked them for a grace he still wasn't sure he wanted.

#bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x gender neutral tav #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #fanfic #hhh i feel annoying tagging so much but i do want someone to read this #my writing #text post

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vigilskeep · 8 months ago

Note

Hi ! I was wondering about minerva's thoughts when recruiting zevran ?

When I make pragmatic character i struggle to justify that cause at first it seems zevran has a big incentive to try again to kill you and pretend the first attempt never happened to his superiors.

for minerva specifically, a) she’s arrogant enough to believe that if she stopped someone once she can stop them again, b) she’s cynical enough about some of her companions’ more wish-washy heroic motivations that in some ways oddly she actually trusts more in zevran’s very clear and self-centred reasons for sticking with the party, and c) like (i would imagine) many elf wardens, even one as thoroughly disconnected from her culture as minerva who would not admit to this, she does have deep-seated curiosity about elven lives other than her own and an unwillingness to kill the first one she sees, given another option

you might also consider that zevran is just likeable, murdering him in cold blood after he told you everything you wanted would suck, and letting him loose with no other alternative for safety outside the crows might be even more dangerous than having him with you where you can keep an eye on him. also if your character isn’t an elf, i would expect a brosca or even a circle mage to deeply commiserate with his problem of not having had another chance in life but to do the will of others, and an aeducan and perhaps a cousland to truly understand the value of having an assassin on hand

just because your character accepts zev into the party doesn’t mean they have to immediately blindly trust him, after all! you can totally rp them as suspicious and watchful

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brain-rot-central · 4 months ago

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NSFW Alphabet

Thank you for the tag, @kittenintheden! This will be in reference to Tavaria and Astarion's relationship, heh.

Tagging anyone who would like to do it!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

They both take a moment to catch their breath and let the world return to normal around them. They're usually clinging pretty tightly to one another.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Astarion adores her freckles. He loves to trace them up to his second favorite place: her neck.

Tav loves his face. She's never seen a more handsome man in all of her life, though she doesn't remember much from before the Nautiloid. It's a sin he can't see himself in a mirror (before the ascension), but maybe even a blessing. He'd be entirely insufferable, should he actually know how charming he is. She loves playing with his ears as well, and the resulting twitch of his entire body when she does.

C = Cum (where does your muse prefer to cum/have someone cum)

Astarion's favorite place is inside, which works out great, because Tav loves to cum on his cock. c:

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Tav once cut down an entire row of goblins with such precise skill as they were escaping their encampment. Astarion was left speechless, and oddly aroused. From that moment forward, he realized that he really loves when she's violent.

Tav has a thing for watching the light fade from the eyes of Astarion's victims. There's something oddly erotic about it, how he holds them close against his chest. Almost like that of a lover, only to watch them slump lifelessly to the floor once he's done. She loves the rosy pink glow that spreads from his cheeks to the tips of his ears even more.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Astarion is arguably more experienced than most. Tav's first, from what she can recall, was Astarion. So, not much. Though, she's a quick study.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Astarion loooves missionary. Loves to be able to see Tav's face and have access to her neck. He tends to bite down on the soft column of her throat right as he cums.

She'll never admit it, but Tav really enjoys being taken from behind. The vulnerability is thrilling to her, as she doesn't readily give up her back to most. It's an immense sign of trust, for her.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Astarion enjoys smoothing rough situations out with a bit of sarcastic humor, while Tav is mostly stone-cold serious. It's not up until she rejects the will of her Father that she begins to come out of her shell, and that's mostly attributed to the murderous urges ceasing all together.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Since Astarion is a full-blooded high-elf, he's entirely hairless, save for hair on his head and eyebrows. Tav keeps herself relatively neat, though there are times where she lets her body hair grow out. They are trying to save the world, after all. Astarion doesn't seem to mind much.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Astarion is admittedly more forward than Tav. Their first time together was out of pure curiosity for her -- she had her suspicions about him being a vampire, which were confirmed once she saw his teeth poking over his bottom lip. She should have been afraid, sharing a camp with a blood-sucking fiend who could kill them at any time. Though, all she could think about was how this could work to everyone's advantage. A handsome vampire with a silver tongue? Perfect for manipulating and taking out potential targets.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

It's not often that Tav takes care of herself in that manner. She's usually fighting off the urges to slit the necks of those who bring her even the slightest of annoyance. Though if she has a drink or two in her, it's enough to dull the voices in her head so she can hear her body.

Astarion avoids intimacy with himself almost entirely. Though, there's one night in particular when he couldn't avoid it anymore, and sent a few pulses of pleasure through his tadpole connection to Tav. She didn't respond, but he felt better having made her aware of how he was feeling. They kissed the following morning, her asking him how it went.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Tav has an incredibly strong breeding kink. She's not sure if it's because of Bhaal's influence telling her to produce more Bhaalspawn, but it ramps up in intensity the longer she's near Astarion. It doesn't make sense, given he's an infertile vampire spawn, but the urge to create a half-vampire Bhaalspawn is strong. Again, likely due to Bhaal's influence and how powerful their offspring would be.

As time goes on, Astarion realizes he enjoys being teased. A lot. A suggestive glance or two. Tav rubbing her body against him as she passes, feigning "not enough room." It all serves to heighten his interest.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Secluded from the others. Neither of them enjoy an audience unless it's previously agreed upon. Doesn't really matter to them where or when.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Astarion is usually most willing right after he feeds, especially if it's from her. The haze of her bloodloss usually makes sex more enjoyable for her, because again, it helps quell the dark urges.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Tav does not enjoy anything that could be seen as too controlling. No spanking, slapping, being spit on, manhandled too roughly, being tied up, or things stuffed into her mouth -- whether they're fingers or makeshift gags. It triggers a fight response in her, and she's entirely sure Astarion wouldn't appreciate having his throat cut during intimacy. But she learns over time that she enjoys Astarion grabbing her ass while taking her from behind, giving it a few light smacks.

Astarion dislikes being controlled, as well. At first, any touches to his neck would incite instant panic. Being held down, turning onto his stomach, and pulling his hair too tightly would transport him back to the kennels with Godey hovering above him. But as time goes on, he softens to the idea of Tav lightly holding his neck as she rides him, because the pressure against his throat never increases. He never feels starved for air (even though he doesn't need to breathe), and he eventually becomes bold enough to encourage her to tighten her grip around his neck.

They each develop enough trust along the way that some of their no's turn into a conditional yes, so long as the boundaries are agreed upon.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Astarion is incredibly enthusiastic about eating pussy. Tav is a bit more hesitant to giving oral, only because she fears the sudden urge to dismember him will creep forward. They both enjoy receiving, however.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Both of them hate to admit this, but they're absolute sguckers for passionate, slow sex. Taking their time to let their bodies do the talking. But they occasionally have the urge to be rough and fast, and that usually ends up being more about a quick release of some sort as opposed to penetration of any kind.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

They're not opposed to it, but again, they prefer the whole set up.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Both are extremely hesitant to taking risks at first. They barely even speak about hooking up for days after it first happens. But the second time it happens is more spontaneous. Stolen glances from across camp and a short conversation leads them back to his tent once the last head falls soundlessly upon a pillow. They've never had an opportunity to discuss experimentation, even at this point within Sonnet. If the moment feels right, they both go for it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Spontaneity is their deciding factor. They're usually a one-and-done sort of couple, but there's an immense amount of build up from start to finish.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Neither is against toys but they haven't introduced that into the dynamic. Yet.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Tav plays hard to get, Astarion having to break down her defenses. He doesn't mind, though. He looks at it as if it's a hunt, and he's hardly one to back down from a challenge. Still, she can't help but tease him, if only to watch the way his ears twitch when she says certain words or uses a particular tone of voice. He makes sure to give it to her in earnest later.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Astarion is the more vocal one. He's usually groaning within every sentence he speaks and is more forthcoming with expressing lust. Tav tries her best to muffle her moans within his shoulder or by biting her lip, if she can.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Once they've caught their breath, Astarion thoroughly enjoys carrying Tav into the wash room and putting her in a hot bath. While they were still traveling, Astarion would be the one grabbing her hand and leading her down to a water source of some kind to freshen up. He continued that tradition during his nightly visits post-ascension.

Astarion has his piece of the contract etched into his back. Tav has a small circular birthmark on her right areola.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Astarion's is higher, especially when they were traveling. It's true after a time he asks for physical intimacy to stop, but that didn't hold him from running his hands all over Tav any chance he got. Tav was too focused on keeping her urges at bay to really tune in to what her body wanted or was saying. It's only after, once Astarion returns, that she realizes how much she's always desired him physically.

Tav could fall asleep during, should she orgasm enough. They sap her energy, either by putting her mind at ease or the energy demand is truly that high for an orgasm. Astarion may need a few moments to recover, but he could either fall asleep with her or stay up the entire night. It's entirely his choice.

#phew this took me a full day to do #sotlc #sotlc lore

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lumienyx · 1 year ago

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Why did your Tav fall?

@spacebarbarianweird thank you for the tag💙 the words just seem to never end when I write about my Tav's Feelings™️ so here goes

Tav has never quite fallen that far in love with anyone before. His one true love has always been sorcery. Adventures. Freedom. His friends. And so, the experiences with the few lovers he's had over his life seemed like nothing compared to what he feels for Astarion.

It starts as idle curiosity. The pale, sharp-tongued elf who calls himself Astarion is the first of Tav's companions to hint at possibly controlling their tadpoles instead of extracting and destroying them on the spot. Tav is ever one to experiment—and so the way Astarion's mind works is what he immediately loves about him.

Always the one with a creative witty comeback, always coming up with cunning ways to solve a problem, disarm a trap, break into the most guarded of places. Half the group is mortified at the idea of grabbing the Necromancy of Thay, yet Astarion encourages Tav to take it. And then gets so engrossed and excited by its possibilities once Tav decides to give it to him instead of keeping it; he was never one for death spells anyway.

The both of them make quite the team.

Yet for all of Astarion's boldness and confidence, Tav senses the fear. Not just through their Illithid connection, but in the little things Astarion lets slip. When Astarion's hands shake barely perceptibly and his eyes stare at places planes away. When he clenches his fists so hard the nails break skin which mends itself lightning-fast with vampiric regeneration... but Tav notices.

Astarion tells him more too, eventually. But their connection is what gives the most insight. The vision he gets when they first meet, the glimpse that night Astarion tries to drink his blood, the accidental connections since—and those on purpose, as they learn and trust each other enough to use their mind-link for tactical communications on the battlefield. Every time Tav touches upon Astarion's mind there's fear, raw and ugly and ever-present, scratching away at his chest and making it so hard to breathe even as he reminds himself that I don't need to breathe I don't need to I don't need—

Tav wants to protect him.

Even as he sees though Astarion's pretty words and the poetics he uses to manipulate Tav into trusting him, he goes along with it headfirst, unsure of what he's hoping for but hoping for something. Even if it's just to be with Astarion for the time-being. Just to help, in what little way Tav can, just with his company, with his words, with his care.

Tav promises to help him defeat Cazador. Whatever it takes. He will bask in the moment he can Disintegrate that crooked smirk from Cazador's face that keeps haunting Astarion's meditations. He will relish how Astarion kills him, makes him hurt for all the pain of two centuries twofold.

Tav needs to protect him, at some point, it simply crosses the bounds of a simple desire to protect anyone he calls friend.

Tav wants him safe, wants him happy. Wants to find more and more reasons to keep Astarion smiling with that beautiful, sun-bright smile that lights up his eyes. Eyes that stare past Tav less and less as time goes on—and begin to look more directly at him, seeing him.

And Tav sees Astarion in turn.

Sees that brilliant mind, the mischief, the love he has for pure, unadulterated fun. The lust for freedom, power, adventure. The quiet longing for companionship and the silent need to uncover his full potential.

It's at the point when Tav figures out he can use the tadpole to project the image of Astarion's face to him that their minds connect stronger, deeper than they've ever had before.

Such deafening emotion flows from Astarion then, overwhelming Tav, drowning him. Confusion, shock, relief, joy, elation, hope—it all crashes down on both of them and ends up in a passionate kiss that leaves Astarion giddy and Tav weak in the knees.

Tav thinks then, how much he loves this, this kiss, this closeness. Loves being with Astarion and maybe loves—

Tav razes the thought right there on the spot. Too soon, too foolish, not true—how could he ever even tell if he's never even felt that before?

But that's when Tav falls and keeps falling inevitably deeper into that blissful abyss of a novel emotion. He doesn't dare hope Astarion ends there in love with him—but, miraculously, he does.

No pressure tags if you want to write about why your Tav fell for Astarion (or any other companion/character!):

@ellekhen @tallymonster @satanicspinosaurus @astariondisapproves @astarions-fangs @thedreamlessnights @justporo @tigers-pat and anyone else who sees this and wants to join in💙

#astarion x tav #astarion x male tav #bg3 astarion #write your tav #sorry this is so long i have lots of feelings #just like Tav lksjaklfjsd #lowkey spoiling my longfic lol #but maybe no one who reads it will read this so it's okay #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3

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jessiemeows · 12 hours ago

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Lost & Found

Chapter 1: My Dagger Happy Friend

A/N: First impressions mean everything, right? This is just a retelling of events of how I think it would have gone down during Amaya & Astarion's first meeting. It played out similarly to how it does in the actual game but after this, things start to be different :) I'm very slow when it comes to writing so I'm sorry if I don't come out with a chapter like once a week. I would expect one to two chapters in a month. Of course, I will be writing other things, like headcanons or short little stories that I think of. :)

Pairing: F!Durge, OC (Amaya), Tiefling, Selunite Cleric X Spawn Astarion

Rating: 18+!!! mentions of violence, blood, corpses, death, basically durge things if you know how that character is

WC: About 1500

Previous chapter here

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Story:

"Gods, what a mess," Amaya muttered through gritted teeth, crawling herself towards the makeshift dock nearby. The tiefling had been wading in the cool waters of the Chionthar, desperately seeking relief from the wound on her leg that a flaming intellect devourer had so graciously gifted her.

Her muscles began screaming in protest, as she hoisted herself onto the weathered planks and collapsed, the sun's warmth washing over her face as exhaustion tugged at her consciousness. Every struggling heartbeat sent waves of agony through her body. Fighting against the pain, she pushed herself upright and summoned what little magic remained within her. A whispered healing word incantation brought forth shimmering streams of white light that caressed her skin like a warm embrace of moonlight. She then quickly uncorked one of her two remaining healing potions, and liquid warmth pooled in her stomach as the wound began to knit her torn flesh partially together.

Pushing stray curls from her eyes, she rummaged through her pack with trembling hands, she found some clean gauze. As she wrapped her injury, she noticed her left wrist bindings were soaked crimson with blood. Working quickly, she cleaned and dressed both wounds, though the effort had left her head beginning to pound, she sank back down on the makeshift dock again and closed her eyes.

Her thoughts wandered to the two women who'd helped her aboard the Nautiloid. Though their names escaped her, the dark-haired half-elf—another cleric, she'd wagered—stood out in her memory. Right now, Amaya would have given anything for anyone that could help with a healing touch.

Just as she was about to drift a man’s voice shattered her reverie. "Help, someone please help!" The voice pleaded. Curiosity overcame caution, and Amaya pushed herself to her feet, limping toward the sound.

The man who'd called out towered over her, a pale elven man, whose appearance bordered on almost unnaturally perfect, as if he possessed an ethereal presence—silver curls arranged with precision, framing his sharp features, his dark rich blue and maroon doublet adorned with intricate gold designs without a single thread astray. There was something else about him, a sense of familiarity that tugged at the edges of Amaya's memory.

"Hurry," the pale man whispered, crouching near a bush. "I've got one of those brain things cornered." His vermillion eyes fixed on her, brows furrowing. "There, in the grass. You can kill it, can't you? Like you killed the others."

"Uh, sure, I can handle it. Stand back," Amaya replied, her instincts screaming that something was wrong. As she approached the bushes, a wild boar burst through the foliage. In that same instant, strong hands seized her waist, and her feet swept out from under her. She hit the ground hard, her attacker's legs tangling with hers to prevent escape. Cold steel pressed against her throat.

"Shh," the elf breathed, his voice low and dangerous sending a shiver down Amaya’s spine. "Not a sound—not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours." His piercing gaze began to lower and fixate on her vulnerable neck. Amaya clawed desperately at his dagger arm, her long nails clawing at his skin and drawing blood, but his grip remained iron-tight.

He clicked his tongue, pressing the blade deeper. "Now, now darling, let's not be difficult. I saw you on the ship, didn't I? Nod."

Suddenly the world around her shifted, plunging her into a vivid flashback. The cloying scent of thick, coagulated blood hung heavy in the air, and she found herself once again surrounded by the thousands and thousands of lifeless corpses from her earlier nightmare. That same pale, elven face that had transfixed her in her dream now stood out starkly before her, with a dagger pressed against her neck.

As the flashback began to fade, a searing pain lanced through her wounded leg, clouding her thoughts. “Answer me, damnit!” the elf demanded raising his voice. She shook her head in protest, tears welling in her eyes. In desperation, she twisted his knife arm trying to lift herself up, but he slammed her back into the dirt. "Don't lie to me! I-agh!"

Again, suddenly, something twists, but this time, it's between both of their minds—the tadpole that infected them formed a connection, linking their minds. Through his eyes, Amaya glimpsed dark, crowded streets. She could feel his fear—his fear of not only the worm but also of the light and the dread of someone, someone that he knew.

"What was that? What's happening?" he snarled, his grip loosening for a precious moment. Amaya sought the opportunity to escape his knife arm, but he recovered too quickly.

"Ha! A fine effort, but I've seen it all. I was walking this land while your ancestors were learning to crawl." He growled into her ears. The dagger bit into her skin, she could smell a faint metallic smell of her own blood. "Now, tell me what just happened!"

Her head began to race, brewing up a dark tapestry of violent methods to murder the elf. She could weaken him with a quick sacred flame cantrip, burning his knife hand and easily gaining the upper hand. She could quickly topple him and slice his neck wide open with his own dagger, savoring his death as she bathed in his blood. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to act, to give in to the impulse, to give into the urge. Oh, how the urge would love to be drenched in his blood but this wasn’t her, this was not what she truly wanted.

The pounding in her head intensified as she fought to suppress these sick, intrusive thoughts. Only after a few agonizing seconds did Amaya finally snap. "We can talk when you stop acting like a paranoid lunatic!"

The pale elf's disapproving click was followed by a dangerous smile. "Stupid. I saw into your head, you know." His expression darkened but he then slowly released her, both of them rising cautiously. "You're not one of them. They took you, same as they took me. I'm half tempted to spill your guts all over the dirt anyway, but for now—apologies." His voice had a hint of sympathy.

"'Apologies' better not be all you're offering," Amaya growled, brushing dirt from her tattered clothes. "Though I can’t entirely blame you, I was looking forward to seeing yours spilled too." She avoided his gaze and began to fix her bandages, wincing slightly. The elf had reopened her wound, and the throbbing pain only worsened by the dirt and sand that now covered it. Infection was a looming concern, but she would have to worry about that later when they finally found somewhere safe.

"Aha, a kindred spirit! But I'm afraid I'm all out of wine and flowers, so an introduction will have to suffice." The elf offered a theatrical bow. "I am Astarion. I was in Baldur's Gate when those beasts snatched me and you are?"

Amaya straightened her spine, finally meeting his gaze. "I'm... Amaya. Amaya Othzál, I think," she said softly, arms crossed. The more she looked at him the more captivated she was by his breathtaking beauty, possibly the most stunning man she had ever seen. She felt a flutter in her stomach as their eyes met, her cheeks beginning to flush with a faint pink tinge.

"A pleasure," Astarion purred, resting his slender hands on his hips. "So, do you know anything about these worms?"

"You know as much as I do," the tiefling responded to him flatly, rolling her eyes at him.

"I suppose it's not exactly common knowledge. These worms are already affecting me—I can feel it." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Now what to do about it..."

"And, what's your plan?" Amaya said as she studied him carefully.

"Well, getting out of here might be a start," Astarion drawled sarcastically. "Then finding someone who knows about these worms. I need an expert. Someone who knows how to control these things..."

Amaya's face contorted in shock, "Wait, hold on. Control them? I want them gone!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, yes, of course," he dismissed with a wave, his tone nonchalant. "But first things first."

"Well, maybe we should travel together, I could use the company," a smile finally graced her lips. "As long as you promise no more daggers at my throat." the tiefling suggested playfully.

"You know, I was ready to go this alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea. And you seem like a useful person to know.” He placed his hand over his heart giving her a mischievous smile. “And I promise on my honor, no more daggers at your throat. Unless you give me a reason."

Amaya giggled at him, now giving him an even brighter smile, “Very well, follow me then.”

As they set off, Amaya’s thoughts swirled as her body felt disappointed in her, a waste that she didn’t kill the man. She could feel her body recoiling against her again, beginning to feel nauseous. She then swallowed hard to keep herself from retching.

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hellcatalex1 · 4 months ago

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Part 4 - Salt and Sea (Unbinding the Curse)

Astarion x Female Elf Durge

Post game, one year after the fall of the nether-brain, spawn Astarion, rejected bhaal durge

Triggers: Blood, adult language, adult themes consensual blood drinking , fluff, trauma.

A/N: This chapter does have a small amount of soft smut at the end. Nothing overly graphic or descriptive. It's at the end of the chapter.

Enjoy!

"What are we looking for here Gale?" You ask. Stepping over crates cluttered in the alleyways.

Shadowheart and Astarion following behind you.

"We're looking for a sage named Alustriel, she's well versed and knowledgeable about Netherese magic, she is the last living member of the Watchful Order here in Waterdeep."

"What's the Watchful Order?" You ask curious.

"The Watchful Order of magists and protectors, a guild that once resided in Waterdeep, held some of the greatest wizards and sorcerers amongst its members." He explains

"What happened to the rest of them?" You ask.

Gale lets out a disappointed sigh " One of their most powerful members was cursed with madness , killed almost all of them, then fled. Rumors have it, he resides in the Undermountain."

"That's terrible." Imagining in your mind the horrors that Alustriel endured that day.

Gales expression lightens a bit and he gives you a small smile. "It was some time ago, and the Watchful Order is what inspired the Black Staff Academy to form. Alustriel is very old and wise, she will sure have answers for us." He says before taking lead and walking in front of you back into the busy streets.

You hope for Astarion'a sake that Gale was right. The worst part about this entire situation was the uncertainty. But you had to be strong for Astarion. Letting him make his own choices but being his support every step of the way.

After a few hours of searching, you find yourselves standing before a grand, ivy-covered building with tall, arched windows. This is the home of Alustriel.

Your group walks Inside, the air is cool and fragrant with the scent of old parchment and exotic herbs. An older woman is hunched over a desk, writing in a book in a large study lined with shelves of ancient tomes.

"This better be important, do you have any idea what time it is?" She asks never looking away from her book.

"We understand it's late but we must seek guidance regarding an object that carries powerful Netherese magic." Gale explains catching her attention. She looks up from her book and stands up from the desk, turning to you. She is an older halfling woman with grey hair and piercing blue eyes.

Gale quickly explains your situation, laying out the phylactery and its potential as Astarion’s salvation. Alustriel listens intently as her expression unreadable, before finally speaking.

“You are wise to seek counsel before attempting something so dangerous,” she says, her voice calm and measured. “The magic you are dealing with is ancient and powerful, far beyond what most mortals can comprehend. The Netherese were masters of their craft, but their hubris was their downfall. To attempt to harness this power is to walk a very fine line between life and death.”

Astarion steps forward, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. “Is it possible? Could this phylactery cure me?”

Alustriel studies him for a long moment, as if weighing his very soul. “It is possible,” she says finally. “But it will not be easy. The ritual will require immense focus, precision, and power. Even then, there is no guarantee of success. You could be cured… or you could be consumed by the very magic you seek to control.”

The room falls silent as the weight of her words settles over you. Astarion nods slowly, his resolve unshaken. “Then we’ll do it. But we’ll do it right. With every precaution.”

Alustriel’s gaze softens slightly, and she inclines her head. “Very well. I will assist you in preparing for the ritual out of pure curiosity of the outcome. But you must understand, the risk is great, and the consequences could be dire. Are you truly ready for this?”

Astarion looks at you, his eyes filled with both determination and love. “Yes,” he says quietly. “I’m ready.”

And with that, the preparations begin. Over the next several days, Alustriel works tirelessly to help you and Gale prepare for the ritual. She teaches you the ancient incantations, helps Gale refine the runes needed to channel the phylactery’s power, and even consults with Shadowheart on the divine protections that might be needed to safeguard Astarion’s soul.

The tension among you grows as the day of the ritual approaches. Every moment is filled with a mixture of hope and dread, as you all work together to ensure that nothing is left to chance. Astarion remains focused, but you can see the strain in his eyes, the fear of what might happen once the ritual begins.

The night before the ritual you and Astarion spend time alone in your private quarters. Spending time with one another in case the worst happeneds tomorrow. You lay on Astarion as his back is on the bed. He wraps his arm around you. You draw circles on his chest with your fingers. Lying in a comfortable silence. The weight of the ritual still heavy on your minds.

"Normally I wouldn't pry but given the situation i wanted to ask you something." Astarion says breaking the silence.

"Hm, what is it?" You ask looking up at him.

"Back at the wedding, when Aylin mentioned marriage, you reacted strangely." He says.

Oh fuck. With everything going on with the ritual you had forgotten, and you felt unprepared to talk about it. You stop tracing circles and slowly sit up on the bed and sit next to him. Silence fills the room for a moment or two.

"I'm sorry I didint mean anything by it, it's just we have never spoken about marriage, I don't even know your views on it, so when she said that i...i wasn't" you pause. "I wasn't sure how to react."

Looking deep into your lovers eyes. Astarion grabs your hand and gives it a small tug. "It's understandable darling, honestly I've never given it much thought. I had never planned on falling in love. My life was filled with pain and torture at every turn and I thought I was going to be a slave to Cazador for the rest of my life."

You knew one of the things Astarion hated was pity, but It was hard not for your heart to ache when he told stories of his past trauma. You never saw the pain you felt for him as pity. Just sadness and empathy of what he went through and the hardships he faced under Cazador's control. He sees the sad look on your face as thoughts flutter in your head.

"But I suppose when the time feels right, I could see myself asking you to marry me." He says completely catching you off guard. Your eyes widen and you can't help but smile.

"You're the one I want forever and If this ritual works I won't have to bear the pain of outliving you."

You give him a soft smile "We can grow old together."

"Gods I forgot about that part, as I grow older I will no longer have my beautiful face."

You chuckle. Cupping his chin in your hand. "You will always be beautiful to me."

Astarion reaches out and gently tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.

"You know" he murmured. "This could be our last time we have an opportunity for a night of passion." He says giving you a small seductive smile. "I guess we better make it count." You respond. Astarion leans in and pulls the back of your neck closer to him as he brushes his lips against yours kissing you tenderly. The kiss made your heart swell. It wasn't hurried or demanding. It was slow, gentle and filled with love. As the kiss deepened and you can't help but to let out a small moan. He wraps his arms around you as if he's shielding you from the world. Never breaking the kiss he gently guides you on your back as he maneuvers himself above you as he hovers over you. He moves from your lips to kissing your jaw then down your neck. You close your eyes savoring every pleasurable feeling.

You lift your head and offering for him to feed. "I'm your's my love." You whispered. The words flowing out with trust and love. If the ritual worked it would be the last time he ever got to feed from you. Feeding was a special, intimate moment only you and Astarion shared. You weren't going to lie, you would miss it.

Astarion pulls away from kissing your neck and gazes upon your face. "Thank you love." He says. He cherished feeding off you as well. The care you had to make sure he was properly fed and the pure intimacy it had made him feel safe and loved.

Astarion moves back down to your neck and traces his lips up and down your neck, leaving you with a small shiver from the sensation. He slowly sinks his teeth In. You wince from both pleasure and pain. You feel the slight pressure in your neck from the blood pumping through your veins and to his mouth. Your blood tasting like the finest vintages of wine. He runs his fingers through your hair trying to soothe you. His hands lowered to your body, exploring every curve. Lifting up the shirt on your stomach he trails his icy cold fingers along the line of your stomach to your belly button. Each touch was light and reverent, as if he was worshipping you.

He pulls away from your neck and places a soft kiss on the new puncture wounds. He plants kisses down your neck and eventually making his way to your stomach then your hips. He places a kiss on your hip bone and your hips buck up. You let out a pleasurable moan. Your body responding to him in ways that felt familiar and new. He sits up and slowly helps pull your shirt over your head, exposing your bra. He traces a line with his fingers from the bottom of your back to your bra strap and with ease and dexterous fingers, unclasps your bra strap. The bra falls down your chest exposing your breasts. He cups one of your breasts in his hand, gently massaging it. You place your arms over his shoulders kissing a spot behind his ear then move to gently nibbling on his earlobe. Astarion lets out a small moan, enjoying the sensation.

You help him get out of his shirt and exposes his muscular chest. He glistens off the reflecting moonlight from the window. He gently pushes you on your back and pulls you into another deep and passionate kiss. Your body on fire with desire. You feel his cold fingers again trace from the top of your stomach only this time not stopping at your belly button by reaching under the waistband of your pants. He pushes your panties aside with his fingers and gently eases his fingers inside of you. Your hips once again buck up from the sensation. He was taking his time, savoring every moment he had with you. He knows all the right ways to make you squirm, knowing your body well and what it responds to. He helped pull your pants down and following your panties. You then returned by helping him pull his pants down until you were naked and vulnerable in front of each other.

He gazes into your eyes once more and lowers to your ear. "I love you" he whispers in your ear. "And I love you." Lovingly gazing into his eyes.

When he slowly entered you. Your breath was taken away. The rhythm between you slow and steady, a dance of two souls slowly intertwined. Every moment every touch was a reminder of everything you had been through together. Feeling safe in one another's embrace.

"Oh gods" you whimper out. A steady amount of sweat on your scalp. Your foreheads press together. Both of you are breathing heavily. As the pleasure built, your eyes locked into his, the world around you fading into nothingness. It was just you and Astarion. He was your entire world and you were his.

When you finally reach your peak together it was like an explosion of warmth and light. A perfect cumulation that was building from the love and desire from the both of you. Astarion's name left in a whisper. Your hands clutching him as he held you through the waves of pleasure. His body trembling against yours. He places a kiss your forehead before falling beside you on the bed. Both try and catch your breath. You turn to your side and snuggle into him. Watching the rise and fall of his chest. He wraps his arm around you. Both of you interlace your fingers together. Gently rubbing his thumb on your skin. Tiredness creeps over you but you try to fight it as you don't want this moment to end. Trying to pull your thoughts off tomorrow.

"Astarion?" You gently whisper. Your voice hoarse.

"Yes darling?"

"Will you read to me?" You ask. You loved when he read to you. His voice like silk when he read the words off the page. He knew you wanted the distraction. Anything to take the thoughts off tomorrow. And in reality he was in the same boat.

"Of coarse my love." He says with gentleness and understanding in his voice.

He sits up to pull out a book from his pack. A book you both loved to read. He props and fluffs a pillow to learn back on. You get comfortable and lay your head on his chest. He opens the book and flips to a bookmarked page, and begins to read. You gently close your eyes, focusing on the words of the story. A gentle breeze smelling of salt and sea makes its way through the window. Bellowing the curtains as the wind blows through it. The comfort and tiredness over takes you and you drift off to sleep.

Click here for part 5

#bg3 dark urge #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #baulders gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 bhaalspawn #bg3 fanfiction #astarion romance #romantic #fluff #SoundCloud #Spotify #astarion fic

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kittenintheden · 8 months ago

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Not Your Sweetheart Ch 39 - Broken Bird

Not Your Sweetheart Chapter 39 - Broken Bird

Once, there was a haunted bluegrass-playing half-elf bard with a dark past who met a charmingly cringefail elven vampire with a dark past and they flirted one another into oblivion until they fell in love. They collect a group of delightful chucklefucks on the road and they all banter their way through the darkness to face their demons and save the world together.

A retelling of the campaign written with sitcom-level dialogue and tons of found family and healing from trauma tropes. Very Schitt's Creek but with more violence.

AKA 18 Charisma bard sees through 10 Charisma vamp-boy's bullshit and falls for him anyway. But he falls first.

---

The crew meet The Emperor in the flesh at last, then they head on to Rivington. Astarion has a no good, very bad day. There's murder involved. Read on AO3. Also I'm on Twitter now.

Commissioned piece of the dorks by the fantastically talented @hamrikaa (see the full thing in Ch 10).

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With her eyes trained on his chest, she undoes the buttons of his ruined shirt and he lets her get it off him and toss it to the side, likely to be burned later when they have the wherewithal to do so.

Ori dips her cloth in the bowl and trains her eyes on his cheeks, his chin, his forehead. But not his eyes. She doesn’t look there as she cleans the blood off him, wiping the cloth carefully over his skin. Her other hand rests along his jaw. Steady. Not shaking, not afraid.

At last, as she finishes wiping at the corner of his mouth, she meets his gaze.

He’s so tired. Drained to the dregs, wrung out. Deeply, achingly, terribly sad and angry in a way he can’t even begin to parse. All he can do is sway a little and blink back at her.

She runs the cloth over the side of his face from temple to ear.

“What’d he do to you?” she asks quietly.

He swallows. When he speaks, his voice croaks. “Not going to ask what I did to him?”

“I saw what you did, Astarion,” she says as she continues to clean him up. The water goes pinker and filthier every time she rewets the cloth. “I’ve seen you fight. I’ve seen you enjoy a kill. I’ve seen the curiosity in your face when a person chooses cruelty, sometimes.” Her touch continues to be gentle on his skin. “But I’ve never seen you do anything like what you did to him.”

She drops the wet cloth and picks up a clean, dry one, patting it against his skin. When she looks him in the eye again, she asks, “So, what did he do to you?”

He gives a weak, false laugh, looking up and blinking away the threatening tears. He drops his chin and stares at her feet. “Does a monster need a reason?” he scoffs.

“Sweetheart.” Her voice is so even. So bloody patient.

It’s maddening.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x female oc #kitten writes #not your sweetheart #bg3

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ultrainfinitepit · 1 year ago

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75%. How did the family that raised your character influence them? For Cale (I love a good character between worlds who can also shapeshift).

What a great question for Cale!

For a little background for those who don't know him, Cale is a half-elf: his mother Mentha was an elf and his father Rhubarb was a human raised by elves. Both of Cale's biological parents were killed by local townspeople and monster hunters when Cale was just a baby, leaving Cale to be raised by Obadiah, one of the hunters. Raising Cale is Obadiah's penance for spilling innocent blood on that terrible night. Cale considers Obadiah his father.

From childhood, Obadiah was raised to be a soldier and monster hunter for the Order, and so this was how he raised Cale. Cale's childhood was a life of discipline, training, and faith. As a result, he's a hard worker and skilled monster hunter. He thought his purpose was to hunt monsters and protect the town, and nothing beyond this. Despite this harsh upbringing, Cale has maintained his friendly personality, natural curiosity, and generous heart.

Cale's mother Mentha was a princess of sorts among the elves, so that makes Cale a prince. But he doesn't learn about this heritage until he's in his late teens when he must work to break the curse on Puddle. Cale struggles with feeling connected with his heritage. It's hard to feel like being a prince or an elf is part of his identity when it's just told to him rather than something he grew up with.

Cale loves his adopted father Obadiah, even after he recognizes how poorly Obadiah treated him, even after learning of the terrible deeds he did. It is not in Cale's nature to resent Obadiah. Others are insistent that Cale need not forgive Obadiah at all, that he is within his right to cut him out of his life entirely. But in Cale's heart there was nothing to forgive, and he could never cut Obadiah out. Cale considers Obadiah his only family.

That being said, after learning the truth Cale resolves to never return to Obadiah's house. Once Cale has children of his own to raise, he makes every effort to raise them with care and affection.

Obadiah taught Cale many lessons, but taught him most of all the value of kindness. Obadiah having given very little kindness in his life, spent the last portion of it living with regret and loneliness as a result.

#ask #town of puddle #ocs

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dzamie-oc · 1 year ago

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Voretober 08 - Sudden

Length: 1800 words Vore type: Oral vore, unwilling prey, M/F, M/M Fandom: D&D Other info: kobold/human, kobold/elf, digestion, fast digestion, smaller pred Summary: How does a little kobold eat adventurers over twice his size? Very quickly, and they don't last long. Apparently eating is a free action.

Saverin wiped the gnoll blood off of his sword, but kept it out - until he and the others knew they'd found a safe room, it was dangerous to let his guard down so completely. Somewhat luckily, one of the gnolls had gotten blasted through the next door by one of Viera's spells. Saverin stashed his rag and raised his shield as he stepped through the stone-lined doorway.

The group passed through the hallway relatively uneventfully. Garren froze a giant rat that even Elise hadn't seen with their breath; Severin was inclined to think it would've left them alone, but he knew better than to argue with their scaly cleric over their hatred of rodents. And then there was another door, this one intact. Elise slipped past the rest of the group to fiddle with the lock, and with a quick click, she soon pushed it open before retreating behind Saverin's guard.

The room was mostly empty, save for a table with a half-finished game of Solitaire, a few scattered chairs, a visibly empty chest, and a single kobold leaning against a door and spinning a fork in his hands. The kobold in question was better-equipped than Saverin expected of his species, with half a metal helmet over the upper half of his face, a few spiked rings affixed to his tail, and a pair of leather shoes that somehow fit his lizardy feet. Saverin had taken only a couple steps in when the kobold looked up and tossed the fork onto the table. "Oh, you guys made good time. You can't go through, by the way. Dragon says no."

Garren started to say, "does she know that we only seek-" but was swiftly cut off by their other magic-user.

"Well, your dragon's about to learn otherwise! Now stand aside, or I'll be opening that door with your corpse!" The red gem on Viera's staff glowed, menacing.

"She's said she has no patience for more slayers, and granted me speed to fulfill her will," the kobold countered, with no worry in his voice, "so… leave. Or stay here forever, but you aren't going in."

A magical incantation in an equally magical language spilled forth from Viera's lips, and a ball of fire shot from her staff, scorching a decent area around him. A quick glance to the side, and Saverin saw Garren murmur a quick prayer; they couldn't stop their fellows from killing creatures who weren't even defending themselves, but they could at least seek forgiveness on their behalf. Saverin wasn't a religious man, himself, but he understood their plight-

Just then, a strange, muffled shout pulled his and Garren's focus from the scorched and wrecked door. The kobold was just past where Viera had casted from, but their mage was nowhere to be seen - well, that wasn't entirely true; the diminutive lizard rested on a massive gut, scales stretched beyond reasonable to accommodate something over twice his size, even curled up tight. His tail swished slowly, and with arms crossed, the kobold looked out of his helmet at the remaining trio. "Okay. Let's try this again. You can't go in, so leave. Once you do, and this troublemaker apologizes, I'll let-"

Elise struck from the shadows, seeming more like a trick of the light than an elf. "Now, when it can't move!" she shouted, driving her daggers towards the kobold's bloated gut, an easy target.

At least, it would have been, had the kobold not landed a solid kick on her, sending her flying into a wall with a crash that surprised Saverin with its lack of sound. The swordsman tore his eyes away from the horrid scene to the door, or rather where the door used to be. Slowly, he started to creep towards it, though morbid curiosity kept him staring at what the kobold was doing.

At the moment, the kobold was hissing, annoyed. "Look, if you really want to try this, I'd better just…" He rolled back, landing on his feet, and stretched. An awful gurgling and growling echoed in the small, stone room, immediately joined by Viera's screaming. Loud cracking and snapping ensued as, before their very eyes, the lumpy bulk of the kobold's stretched stomach grew rapidly both less lumpy and less bulky, shrinking into a noticeable but much more normal-looking gut. He thumped his chest with his fist a couple times, then opened his scaly jaws to let out a truly massive belch, ridding himself of even that amount of bloat. Saverin figured that, if he'd been next to that monster, his ears would be ringing, and that may be the least of his problems. A wisp of red, magical flame issued from the predator's maw, the only sign that Viera had even been in the room.

"Now then, you wanted to fight?" the lizard challenged, glancing around the room. Elise had once again melted back into the shadows, and it seemed that, for all his speed, the kobold's eyes were normal. Saverin shuffled a little closer to the door, over halfway there…

A pair of knives flew at the kobold from behind; it was only then that Saverin managed to spot the shadowy elf. But only for a moment; the swordsman only barely registered the clatter of metal on stone after a blur of scales seemed to instantly transform the sinewy, stealthy assassin into a much more compact, scaly mass hanging off of the kobold's midsection. This time, he leaned one hand against the wall and put his other hand on his hip, more addressing Elise than the rest of- than Saverin and Garren.

"Really, this could have not happened if you just left, or even didn't atta- AGH, OW!" He stumbled, supporting himself on his oversized gut, and gritted his sharp teeth, muttering curses in Draconic that surely made Garren blush through their scales. "Grraah, you wanna fight like a rat, I'll treat you like one!"

Blanching, Saverin turned and ran; it didn't stop him from hearing Elise's cry cut off, or the sickening crunch of bones shattered even before melting, but he at least didn't have to see it, and maybe he could be around the corner and out of the kobold's-

The next thing Saverin saw was a set of small, but very hungry-looking draconic jaws opened unreasonably wide right in front of his face. He grunted, more from discomfort than pain, as his arms and legs were forced to immediately curl up against him; it even took a couple seconds to realize that he couldn't see anything, and that he'd gone from a cool, slightly damp cave system to a hot, humid, and wet…

Kobold stomach.

Saverin tried to reach for his sword, but it had been either knocked away or was trapped against him where he couldn't reach. Fear gripped him in the deadly, acrid chamber as he realized his hands had already started to tingle, and he desperately hoped it was just a lack of circulation, rather than the kobold doing… well, he didn't want to think about it. To make matters worse, the deadly lizard let out a short laugh over his doom. "Ha! Using your own allies as bait to sneak by? Devious, but my mistress's boons are stronger. Will you finally agree to just leave? I'm running out of lessons to give, not that I mind."

"We aren't here to kill her!" Garren's voice was muffled just as Viera's and Elise's voices had been, but this time Saverin was on the other side of things. "She has twenty-three overdue library books and we're asking for them back! Ideally with the fine, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

The kobold is worryingly quiet for a few seconds; Saverin couldn't decide if he wanted this ordeal to hurry up or never reach its inevitable conclusion. Eventually, though, he spoke up, "why didn't the other three say anything?"

"After the giant rats, the slimes, and the gnolls, even I didn't expect you to actually speak."

"Oh. That's… I'm not sorry - those two tried to kill me - but I wish it hadn't happened."

Saverin struggled around, pressing out from within his fleshy prison. "Hey! You can let me out now!"

More silence, save for the disquieting gurgle of his captor's guts shifting around. "Uhh… surely this can be done with just one person? And I'll just… keep him until you get back, just in case you secretly plan to try to kill my mistress! It'll be twice as hard with only one person!"

Even through the kobold's belly and scales, Saverin heard Garren's sigh. "KOBOLD," they said, with a severity to their voice. The rest of their words was in Draconic, so the trapped swordsman could only hope the cleric knew what they were doing.

"Y- of course, O Dragon," the kobold said, in a much shakier voice than before. And then, he moved.

Saverin had to squint his eyes against the instant re-existince of light. He coughed and sputtered, getting the stale and sharp air out from his lungs and the kobold drool and stomach juices from his mouth. Shakily, he stood and shambled over to his dropped sword, immediately sheathing it just in case the kobold thought it a good excuse. And speaking of the kobold, the swordsman turned to see him kneeling on the floor before Garren. Saverin did his best to shake off his wet clothes and armor, then turned to the cleric, himself. "Uh… thanks, Garren. I'm pretty sure you just saved my life."

Garren awkwardly rubbed their neck. "Don't mention it, please. I panicked. I should've talked him out of it, rather than…" they trailed off, then gestured to the deferent kobold. "Anyway, are you well enough to continue? We can rest here, if you need time."

Saverin shook his head. "I can go. The sooner I get a proper bath and a proper bed, the better." Rolling his shoulders, he continued on through the doorway, and Garren followed soon after.

"When you return, may I eat him again?" the kobold called out to them, "I'll let him go, I swear!"

Saverin heard Garren's footsteps stop, and turned to see them thinking for longer than he'd like, settling on "only by his permission, and ending by the earlier of his or my request."

"Thank you, O Dragon! Good luck on your quest!"

As they walked down the final stretch to the dragon's chambers, Saverin shot the cleric a glare, to which they meekly shrugged. "I… don't like telling them outright no. So you get to. Sorry." A sudden weight came to their scaly features, and they let out a deep sigh. "When next we rest, I will perform rites in memoriam of Elise and Viera."

Saverin grumbled. "This would never have happened if the damned dragon - no offense - just read her stupid mail."

#voretober #dnd #d&d #kobold #elf #vorefic #unwilling prey #v.ore #v/ore #human #digestion #kobold pred #human prey #elf prey #writing #writers on tumblr #text

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dinthoqaf · 11 days ago

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How does one go about meeting you anyways? Not that I'm hiding in the shadows, nope. But you know... curiosity never killed the cat right? RIGHT???

The Defiler sits at his station, a writing desk of dark cherry wood that seems to be stained with a variety of different inks in spill patterns that offer to make the wood grain all the darker. A tome flutters nearby with a quill that writes down whatever it was Dinthoqaf had been tasking it to write. How it knows? A magical mystery between Reality (The name of his quill.) and himself. A quiet sip of the cup of tea comes before he looks away from the words being written. "It varies from person to person, my arrivals and departures." He turns at the waist, setting the cup down before looking back to his tome as it was worked upon. "Reaching me isn't some horrific secret really, it's more so a point on whether the person reaching out to me is worth the effort to break what I'm doing to go meet with." A smile forms, methodical in its creation as if it was an invitation of some sort. "For those incapable of magical acts, as alien as that may sound, a letter titled 'The Sanctum' via standard mail actually makes it to me. From there, The Nameless will remove your letter from circulation and examine it before it's passed on for me to open and then read. After all, some of you fine individuals have tried to use that same system to track us down and we can't have that..." The grin grows into a wry grin. "Now, if you are magically capable, the easiest and fastest way to reach me is through blood, and the more there is, the more I'm able to offer proper lines of communication. With this blood, draw a rune akin to this." The elf draws in the air with his fingertips in a singular motion with no overlapping, a crimson line left behind in the air for a faint moment before it disappears, meaning to be memorized.

( Apologies, drew this some time ago and never bothered to convert or change it to anything to make it look nicer. )

"I should clarify, that success increases dramatically if you do this with your own blood and mana put into action, not animal blood or someone else's. But, once you have this, simply communicate your desire to speak with me, akin to that of a prayer." The Defiler turns, facing forward as his fingers interlace with one another before he mutters something incomprehensible. The air shutters as if a magical act had been tried, but failed. "Of course, it won't work with me trying to communicate with myself, that'd just be absurd." That grin returns to his face once again before he straightens up and returns his teacup to hand and the Reality continues to write upon itself. "Those are the two easiest methods... I suppose you could go the boring way and just happen to find me out in public if I'm at some sort of formal affair rubbing elbow and shoulder with people who need favors that I can offer, but where's the fun in that?"

(Thank you for asking Anon! On a personal note, if someone is looking for me, my messages and inbox are always open and I'm also open to communicating via Discord if it's a preferred/easier outlet! I just don't put out my discord name publically here for obvious reasons. I'm also open to IC interactions in-game too as those are always wonderful!)

#dinthoqaf #ic reply #sotf #anon ask #keep em comin

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honourablejester · 7 months ago

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Heart: The City Beneath, Character Concept: Mad Heartbound Scholar

“Beneath that? The Heart Itself, a blossoming tear in reality, a parasite universe of blood and bone seeping into the world of man and elf. The Heart can taste and smell you, and it makes itself anew in your image. The settlements are there because people believe they should be: they are expectations repeated and made real, scars carved into the meat of the City Beneath by invaders. But go off the beaten path, tread into the unknown, and the Heart will grow invisibly, silently, just outside of your view. It listens to your dreams and fashions your reward, your punishment, your world, from roiling quintessence. This is the Heart, and you know that somewhere down here is what you need.”

--- Heart: The City Beneath, Pg. 3

I want to make a character with the Heartsong calling. I want a character that is just obsessed with the Heart Itself, with figuring out, perhaps by taste, what is this thing beneath the world? There are all those theories about what the Heart is: a nascent god, an extra-dimensional invader, a world-engine, an ancient occult nuclear waste storage site, the one true afterlife, a manifestation of sin. All these theories. And I want to make a scholar. Someone who hears the Heart, has always heard the Heart, and longs more than anything else to experience what it truly is.

I’m picturing a scholar. Not necessarily an accredited scholar, quite possibly a crackpot academic who was thrown out of their institution, likely with the opinion that they should then promptly be thrown into a different one. But they heard the call of the Heart in their dreams. And it’s a vast, unreal canvas on which subconscious thought is written into reality. What is it? What does it mean? What does it say about us, this thing that shows us our hidden thoughts? Can we map our natures by it? Can we map it? Not just physically, but can we map the warp and weft of reality itself through its changing? What is it, what is it, what is it? And what does it mean?

I think a human. Dark elves are too close, high elves too imperial, gnolls too pragmatic. A human. A crackpot human. Who wants to dig into this eldritch thing and hang on until they can feel, taste, the answers from it.

I flip-flopped on the class. This was a calling first sort of character for me, and I struggled to find a class with the right vibes. Vermissians and Heretics are too focused elsewhere, Witches too aloof, Incarnadines too petty, Hounds too tired and practical, Deep Apiarists too much the opposite of what this character seeks. Cleavers were an option, going native to the point it manifests physically, but the abilities didn’t vibe for me. Deadwalkers, especially if we do want to imagine that the Heart might be an afterlife, but again, the vibes were off. But. The Junk Mage.

Yes, Junk Mages are about stealing power from powerful beings, which is a bit on the petty side again. And yes, their spells are powered by entities like the Drowned Queen and the Fire King, not by eldritch Hearts beneath the world. But. That’s because that’s what they have. It need not necessarily be what they want. If you want to touch incomprehensible magic, the Heart Itself might well be the ultimate goal. Or, to reverse that, if you want to touch the Heart Itself, maybe you start by touching lesser powers first. And Junk Mages are mad. It’s an explicit core ability. They long for knowledge. That. That will work for me. So.

A Heart-obsessed Human Junk Mage. A mad scholar of magic.

SEPH CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Seph

Neither identifiably male nor identifiably female. A mobile coat with ink stained fingers and eldritch tattoos, hands perpetually shaking ever-so-slightly.

Ancestry: Human

“In this part of the world, humans have a reputation for digging into the ground to uncover ancient relics, and it’s not entirely inaccurate.” (Pg 13). Curiosity killed the cat, and the human. So let’s be human, and let our curiosity get us killed.

Calling: Heartsong

“When you sleep, you dream of the Heart. You’re half-mad with glimpses of knowledge; mad enough to go ever deeper into the undercity, looking for revelations.” (Pg 22). We’re a scholar obsessed with this beating, red-tinted thing that we’ve dreamt of. It calls, and more than anything else, we want to know what it is.

Class: Junk Mage

“You relish the touch of madness, of accursed insight, into the vast and terrible truths that hide beneath reality. Sanity, safety, reputation; all these are secondary to the pursuit of arcane majesty.” (Pg. 57). We hunger for magic, we hunger for power, but beyond that, we hunger for knowledge. For the knowledge you can only gain, experience, at the far bleeding edges of reality, where madness dwells and truths are uncovered.

Skills: Discern (Junk Mage), Delve (Mark of Hunger), Mend (Mark of the Weaver)

Domains: Occult (Junk Mage), Cursed (Wretched & Glorious)

Equipment: Overstuffed coat (Mend Supplies D6) & Blunderbuss (Kill D4, Spread, Point-Blank, One-Shot).

Resources: Vial of cursed ink (D6 Occult).

Trinkets: Ink-blotted dream journal with maps of places you saw when you were asleep (Heartsong). Long-stemmed pipe and pungent tobacco (Human). Broken pocket watch with a picture of your mum in it (Human).

Abilities:

Core Ability (Heartsong): IN THE BLOOD. You move through the Heart as if blessed. +1 Echo Protection. Once per situation, when you take stress to any resistance other than Echo, allocate it to Echo.

Core Ability (Junk Mage): RAVENING KNOWLEDGE. You crave the touch of what others call “madness”. The glimpses of truth that ravage your frail, mortal mind give you unimaginable power. When your Mind stress is 4 or higher, roll with mastery when you attempt to cast a spell.

Core Ability (Junk Mage): SACRIFICE. You are willing to sacrifice anything for another hit. Before you cast a spell from this class, you can opt to destroy a resource with the Occult domain. Roll the resource’s dice; the amount rolled is added to your Protection value against any stress incurred as a result of casting the spell.

Major Abilities (Junk Mage): KISS OF THE DROWNED QUEEN. You have glimpsed the sunken Court of the Drowned Queen, where she slumbers and awaits the resurgence of her line. With a touch, you can conjure salt water in the lungs of those who oppose you. This spell functions as the following weapon: (Kill D6, Piercing.) If the target is at least shin-deep in water, it inflicts D8 damage

Minor Abilities (Junk Mage):

MARK OF HUNGER. You can taste the power slumbering in the City Beneath, and you want it more than anything. Gain the Delve skill. You can smell sources of magical power – the more potent and active, the more pungent the smell. Different types of magic have different scents: relics of the Moon Beneath have the aroma of wine and butter, necromancy smells like nujabian kafee and the occult technology of the Vermissian resembles malt and rich tannins.

MARK OF THE WEAVER. Your hands are covered in spiderweb ink; you have the capacity to stitch, fix and bind with a thought. Gain the Mend skill. Once per session, you can fix someone or something in a matter of seconds, even if it would usually take hours of careful work.

WRETCHED AND GLORIOUS. Your body is a prison, and when it blurs or breaks, you feel closer to your patrons. Gain the Cursed domain. When you use the SACRIFICE ability above, you may also consume resources with the Cursed domain.

Calling Story Beats:

Some of the Heartsong story beats that intrigue me, subject to the story as it developes:

“Following a long ritual, name the Heart. Only refer to it by this name from now on.” “Consume something of the Heart (eat the flesh of a heartsblood beast, etc).” “Sacrifice something you love to the Heart.” “Let your curiosity lead you into danger.” “Communicate with something of the Heart.” “Witness a pulse – the changing of the Heart from one state to another – first hand.” “Receive a strange surgical implant or heartsblood transfusion.” “Terrify or intrigue an NPC with your obsession.” “Perform a rite at a place of power (Tier 3 or deeper).” “Meet and learn from an Emissary of the Heart.” “Become one with the Heart and bind your essence to it.”

#heart the city beneath #character concepts #scholars #worldbuilding #this setting man #i want to eat it

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