#i have more nettie content coming

[beannary]

Do you have any art tips for drawing little bitty tiny babies? <3

im sorry this is my only piece of advice alksdjhf

i just make sure the head is absolutely massive in comparison to the body and also make the eyes huge but i do that anyways

[madschiavelique]

Hello!

Sorry if you don't write for halsin, I didn't see bg3 characters on your list of who you write for on the pinned post. I was wondering if you could write a Halsin x fem reader where she is the leader of the tieflings at the Grove. They could be competitive or just learning how to work together for their people's interest. I think that could be a really interesting dynamic to explore. SFW or NSFW both sound good, so whatever inspires you.

Thank you so much!!

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ pairing : halsin x tiefling fem!reader

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : a bit of angst but mostly fluff (with some hurt/comfort), kagha being an absolute bitch, mentions of blood and wounds (healer gets hurt but don't worry halsin heals her), other than that lots of fluff, fem!reader, tiefling reader, no use of y/n

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 8,8k

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ author's note : okay so just to say i did not intend this to be as long and if it wasn't for me having life happening i would have made it longer by writing a smut, but hey if u guys want smut from this one i'd GLADLY write it. it took me time to write it also because i had another idea originally but it would have been way too long and have much less tension and would develop the reader too much rather than her connection to halsin SO YEA enjoy hihi

( proofread by the lovely @gracethyomen ☆)

Your people were watching you with concern as you walked down the slope towards the druids' quarters. The little ones had come to you in a panic while you were talking to Zevlor.

All you'd managed to decipher was ‘Arabella, druid, snake’, and you were on your way to sort things out.

You and your group of tieflings had been living in the grove for barely a week. At first the druids welcomed you with open arms, Nettie even allowed you access to the basements and other caverns of the place.

It was an ideal place for tieflings. Although the majority of the grove was outside where you could spend time close to nature, much of the area was sheltered by the shade of the rocks. Your race had become accustomed to living in underground spaces, so what better place to stay than here.

What's more, there were enough cellars and basements to house everyone. Plus, you didn't just stand there and do nothing, you took part in the life of the grove. Whether it was Mattis and his rings to sell or Dammon and his weapons, you were helping out with the trade, and you'd ordered that you and your people should take part in the life of the grove so that everyone didn't look like a green plant in the background.

However, the druids had become bitter of late, and the hospitality you so cherished seemed to be fading as tensions rose. On the one hand, the druids were casting evil glances at the tieflings, claiming that the latter were destroying the larders by their mere presence and that they were an evil people ready to destroy the peace of nature for whatever reason linked to their nature.

On the other hand, the tieflings were defending themselves as best they could by providing manpower for the security of the grove, not lowering the prices of their trade under any circumstances, and getting angry at the treatment they were receiving.

And out of those sides, in the centre, only two people managed to calm the situation: you and Halsin.

You didn't see much of him, as he seemed more preoccupied these days with the problems affecting the area around the little haven of peace, so he was frequently absent. But it had already been more than two days since Halsin had disappeared, and the conflicts in the grove were escalating.

Locke and Komira came towards you as you approached, the tiefling woman suffocating between tears and panic:

“It's Arabella, they took her and they won't let me see her,” she managed to say.

You put your hand on her shoulder to reassure her, ‘I know, I'll take care of it, okay?’

You walked down the few steps towards the fountain where a meditation session was taking place around an idol. Suspicions of a ritual aimed at closing the grove to the world ran from one mouth to the next, a further sign of the descent into ostracism of the latter. Angry druids acted as smugglers, dictating who or what could pass through.

“Stop right here, step back and join the other tieflings”, Jeorna said mechanically, arms folded defensively.

“Let me through, you and I both know I can solve this without any blood baths.” You weren't necessarily strong, nor did you have an innate talent for fighting, but if there was one thing you knew how to do it was to be eloquent, enough you hoped to allow all these worries to be sorted out.

Jeorna pouted, chewing the inside of her cheek as she gave you a simple nod towards the druids' stone door.

“Thank you,” you thanked hastily as you hurried towards it. 

You felt the heavy gaze of all the druids on your back, the weight of your responsibility and your difference in this environment becoming almost suffocating.

You walked past the wall, down the small staircase to the druidic quarters. Kagha was there, next to Arabella, who looked simply terrified. Your eyes fell on the rock beside the girl, the glint of the druidess's vicious pet snake ready to attack at any moment.

“What's going on?” you asked as you approached. 

All eyes turned to you, Arabella's filled with hope while Kagha's face contorted as if a pestilential smell had suddenly taken over the place.

“What are you doing here?” she stormed.

“And what are you doing here ?” you asked back, maintaining a firm tone.

“One of your kind has tried stealing the idol of Silvanus, a punishment is required for such an act.”

“So you'd be ready to threaten a child's life for a... piece of rock?” you asked, confused.

Kagha parted her lips, preparing to reply something, but the very simplicity of your sentence seemed to bring her back down to earth. This little affront, though, which in her eyes seemed designed to belittle Kagha's credulity in the eyes of the druids, made her boil internally.

“I maintain, a punishment will result for her.” she grimaced, her face bitter and twisted with anger.

“If anyone is going to be punished, it certainly won't be a child.” Your eyes lowered to Arabella, her eyes full of tears, “Let me receive what she must receive.”

The other druids took offence in murmurs, a cloud of low whispers encircling you all as you kept your eyes on Kagha.

“Nonsense,” she laughed, a touch of panic and surprise taking over her tone, “she's the criminal in this instance.”

“Since when do we judge children as criminals in this way?” You raised an eyebrow, shrugging your shoulders in incomprehension. “Kagha, this goes against every principle of your order.”

“Don't talk to me about principles, you vermin.’

Any diplomacy you might have shown was slowly fading as Kagha showed her true colours.

“Kagha,” Rath said as if he'd just been punched in the stomach by hearing her speak like that, “stop this nonsense.”

You took a step towards her, then a second, approaching her slowly and never taking your eyes off her. Some people see the underworld in the horns and tails of the tiefling, but your gaze burned with the fires of the Nine Hells.

“And what are you going to do, hm?” you asked as your face came so close to her you could feel her quick breath against your cheeks, “trap me in vines ? get your little pet to bite me wherever you please ?”

“Don't give me ideas,” she added in an evil, mocking tone, “my judgement will be-”

“What is going on?”

All eyes turned towards the entrance to the room, except yours, which remained riveted on Kagha. You hadn't seen much of him, but you knew his voice well enough to recognise him: Halsin.

Kagha took a step away, quickly whispering to her snake to come back to her before saluting, full of surprise: 

“Halsin, you're back.”

Arabella ran towards you, gripping your thigh tightly with her little arms as you felt the fabric of your trousers dampen with her tears.

You tilted your head to the side, still watching Kagha. You had this deep longing, this need for her to remember your gaze, to remember for all the days to come of her eternal life that she would know the anger you bore for all your kind nestled just in your eyes.

Halsin came down the steps, his two arms tensed by the two huge baskets he was carrying. He came towards you, his eyebrows furrowing as he watched Arabella's back twitch. You put your hand on her hair, stroking it gently as she turned her head and her teary eyes met Halsin's. 

He turned to Kagha, who still looked as surprised as ever.

“What is the meaning of this ?” he asked, confused.

Kagha fixed her gaze on yours, expecting you to reveal everything in your embittered state. You stared at her for a long time, then turned to Arabella, exhaling in relief.

“Nothing,” you managed to say calmly, “Arabella just got lost and was scared by the wolves.”

The druids' animals were a perfect excuse for the moment, and Kagha was looking at you with huge eyes. You weren't trying to fuel the fire of hatred, you were trying to calm it down and eventually extinguish it so that you could live together in peace. Throwing her to Halsin’s wrath wouldn’t help either of your peoples. 

Halsin smiled, his eternal gentleness spreading across his face as he knelt beside Arabella. She sniffed, clutching tightly at the fabric of your trousers.

“I can see how they might frighten you, but they've got a good heart,” he said.

He lowered his hand to one of the baskets, taking a handful of wild strawberries that he'd gone to pick along with some other medicinal herbs. He took a small brown cloth bag and poured the red fruits into it. 

“Here,” he said, handing the small bag to Arabella.

She took it in her hand, smiling at him as she sniffed from the tears.

“She should thank you,” said Kagha.

Her venom clearly knew no bounds, and the acrimony you felt towards her was not about to subside.

“She's had a great scare, I'm not going to ask her to be polite,” asserted Halsin.

“Come on sweetheart,” you said, taking Arabella's free hand, “let's get you back to your parents, okay?”

She nodded, squeezing your hand as you headed for the exit. You gave Kagha one last dark look, her eyebrows furrowing as she bit the inside of her mouth.

You took the little girl back to her parents, who took her in their arms. They dried her tears and asked if she was all right, if anyone had hurt her.

“This needs to stop,” said one of the tiefling, “we can't live in fear of what they'll do to us all the time.”

And he was right, you had to find a way to keep your people safe. When evening came, you went up to the telescope that Nadira was occupying, assuring her that she could go to sleep.

You needed a break from all the pressure. You were trying to prevent a conflict breaking out between two completely different peoples who had to live together. The prejudices of your race didn't leave you with an easy task, and this supposed ritual that the druids had started...

You watched the stars, hoping they would give you advice and answers to your questions.

“Beautiful, isn't it ?”

You almost jumped as you turned your head towards Halsin, who came to sit across from you on the cut log.

“Nature has always brought beauty everywhere, in the skies, on the grounds, even in people,” he smiled, resting his forearms on his knees.

You sighed, watching the skies. “If only all people had the beauty you speak of within them.”

"It's a part of nature to be as deadly as it is beautiful.” he said, shrugging as his eyes drifted to the sky in turn. “Plants will make their poisons, predators will make their prey, roses will make their thorns. It's a part of it, just like within each and everyone of us lives a part of light and a part of darkness. We're made in nature's image, after all.”

You leaned back on the rock against which you were sitting, looking at him. He was so serene, so gentle. It seemed impossible at the time to consider that he had any darkness in him.

“What can a rose do against a sheep and its hunger?” you asked, curious.

He laughed softly, his eyes landing on yours as he faced you. “I guess she can't do much, she can try her best with her claws but... nature is as beautiful as it is cruel.”

There was a melancholy in his sentence, hidden behind the softness of his smile.

“Has nature disappeared in the Shadowlands?”

His smile slowly faded, his honey-coloured eyes illuminated by the moon watching you.

“It has not disappeared,” he said, “it has... shifted, been turned into something dark, something undead that defies the laws of nature itself.”

You nodded, your tail coming to rest on your lap.

“Maybe the shadowlands is the only place where the rose can sting the sheep,” you said, gently brushing away the dust that had settled on your skin.

You could feel him looking at you, and you didn't know whether you wanted him to go on forever, or for your eyes to meet his and for him to look away.

“Is that why you're so absent from the grove?” you asked as you finally found the strength to look up and meet his eyes again. “To search for a way to cleanse the land?”

He nodded, smiling gently. “Indeed. The shadows of the past haunt me, they have been doing so for the last hundred years.”

You sometimes forgot how wise he was, how many lives he'd lived, how many lovers he must've had… You find yourself thinking about the question for a moment. His kindness was unparalleled, his generosity and selflessness boundless, and to top it all off: By the Nine Hells, he was handsome.

You wondered if he had a partner, if he had vowed never to love again after his one and only love, or if he wasn't interested.

You straightened up, kneeling before him as he looked at you with surprised eyes.

“Halsin,” you began as you looked into his eyes. “I know that you try to do good in every place that has suffered, it is a noble goal I can't deny it.” You sighed, the despair of the last few days weighing on your shoulders as you loosened them. “But you have to understand that I am starting to be the only one trying to keep the grove at peace.”

His lips parted. You stood up, wiping the dirt from your knees.

“And the grove is not part of the past,” you said to him as he stood, “it's now or never.”

You waved goodbye for the night, leaving to find your sleeping bag in the subterranean caverns while you hoped that your words would have brought him some clarity.

The next morning, ready to take part in the day's gatherings and help in the grove, you learned that Halsin had left earlier that morning, and that once again there had been no news from him.

Your hopes were gradually crumbling.

The rumour that a druidic ritual to close the grove off from the rest of the world had been set in motion under Kagha's orders was well-founded. You sighed, hoping that Halsin would return during the day and not be absent any longer.

Another member of the grove seemed to be missing. Old Auntie Ethel was nowhere to be seen near her stall of potions and other health elixirs. So it fell to you to supervise it during the day.

Night came, and just as you were about to go to bed, Arabella and the other children came running to you, screaming.

“Do you want to wake the whole place up?” you shouted in a whisper.

“You've got to come and see, quick!” urged Arabella as she pulled you along.

The children crept towards the fountain, and you followed them, wondering what they had been up to. You passed the stone wall, descending the steps to the druids' quarters.

“Are you insane? Do you want to get yourself killed coming here?” you scolded them in silence.

“We've found something you really must see!”

They took you to the centre of the room and made you wait there, passing behind some vines to open what you recognised as a chest in the half-light.

They came back to you with a letter in their hands, holding it out to you insistently. You took the letter in your hands, and what you read in it made your blood run cold.

Shadow druids. Kagha had allied herself with them.

“What are you doing here?!” 

Kagha's furious voice echoed around the room, the little ones next to you flinching.

"Go back to bed,” you said firmly to the children as your eyes locked on Kagha's. 

“But-”

“No buts, you're going back. Now.”

The kids didn't wait a second longer, running for the stairs.

“You're not going anywhere,” Kagha shouted as she came towards them, but you blocked her path.

“So you’ve chosen the Shadow Druids,” you said bitterly, pointing to the letter.

Kagha's face broke, realisation washing over her face with a meagre transition to raw anger.

“You'll never understand anything,” she spat.

You frowned, a flash of destructive malice shining in her eyes.

“Always getting in the way where nobody wants you,” she said, looking at you with disgust and contempt, starting to circle you like a wolf around its next meal, like a predator around its prey, like a sheep around its rose. “You think you have every right here. You and your kind think that you can steal anything you can get your hands on, destroy the order of the grove, intrude on the tranquillity it offers, and you think you'll never have to pay anything in return.”

She chuckled, watching your gaze darken. “You'll never be welcomed, and I'll see to it personally.”

Kagha drew her scimitars, and you braced yourself for whatever injury it might cause.

It was an unfair fight, you had no weapon, no spell, nothing to protect yourself with. All you could hope to do was dodge. She sliced an arc through the air towards you, and you stepped back. She made another strike that split the air, but still couldn't reach you. You were agile, and that worked in your favour.

You ran the length of the room, jumping and trotting to avoid her attacks, but you didn't have time to read the labels on all the potions on display, or the contents of the parchments lying here and there, which could have been of great help to you.

Kagha got fed up with chasing you soon enough, and her voice boomed through the room when she said: “Flagellum!”

A bramble whip wrapped itself around one of your ankles, knocking you off your feet and taking your breath away as you hit the ground. The thorns of the whip dug deep into your leg, and you could already feel the blood spreading under the fabric of your trousers.

You tried to get to your feet but Kagha punched you in the face and cut your lip, rolling you onto your back as she knelt on your arms to stop you doing anything.

“Did you honestly think everything was going to work out?” she said through clenched teeth as she pressed the tip of her scimitar into your arm, “That everything would work out perfectly and we'd find a balance?”

The blade of her sword dug in past the fabric of your shirt, the pain slow and making you grunt. “Never, never would both sides have emerged victorious,” she growled as she withdrew the blade from the flesh of your arm, coming to place it under your throat.

You held your breath, were you going to die like this?

“The shadows were always the answer.”

And as you tried as best you could to shake off the thorns tugging at your leg or to lift your arm out of her grip, you felt the metal covered in your own blood pressing against your neck.

“Kagha!”

Halsin's voice echoed around the room, Kagha turning and letting her attention wander enough to loosen her hold on you. You kicked at the ground to push yourself away from her, the brambles wrapped around your leg making you grunt as you managed to put some distance between you and her.

She sat up, panicking. Halsin was with Rath, the children must have alerted him and found Halsin on the path.

“Halsin, I can explain-” Kagha stammered.

“Your fate will be decided tomorrow. You let yourself be devoured by power, and for that you will be judged,” Halsin said, trying to restrain his anger. “Rath, take her to one of the cells.”

His eyes fell on you on the floor, bloodied, his fist clenching until his knuckles were white.

“I'll look after her,” he said, walking slowly towards you.

You tried to calm your breathing, to take your mind off the fact that you'd just had a brush with death and it had left its scarlet signature on your throat.

He knelt down beside you, examining your leg, surrounded by brambles. He brushed away the thorns and the vine, letting his hand fly over it, but leaving open wounds all the same.

You watched him as he examined you, and noticed that he too was injured. Blood was beading from his forehead and his salient arms were covered in scratches. 

His eyes came back to you, and he brought his hand to your chin. Your body instinctively recoiled, and his eyes softened. Tenderly, he ran his fingers over the drying blood on your throat, his eyes drifting to the arm you were holding, which was staining your hand red.

He sighed, and the muscle in his jaw tensed, your cheeks warming at the sight. He turned towards you again, wrapping one arm under your knees while the other encircled your back.

“Hold on to me,” he indicated as your able-bodied arm came around his neck.

He lifted you as if you weighed absolutely nothing, pressing your body against his and making sure he didn't hurt you.

He began to walk, taking you towards what appeared to be his own quarters.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

You pressed your head against his chest, sighing as you gradually came down from all that emotion.

“The children brought me back here to read a letter. Kagha has joined forces with the Shadow Druids, and she intends to perform The Rite of Thorns and cut the grove off from the rest of the world.”

“The Rite of Thorns?” repeated Halsin, not quite believing it.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sighing, a nervous chuckle running up your throat, “she doesn't fancy us.”

He walked through the doorway into his room, which was deeply filled with plants, bags of herbs and a bookcase full of nature reading. He set you down on his bed, which was absolutely huge. It was strange that an elf should grow so tall, and the bed reminded you of that. You looked round the four corners of his room, filled with plants climbing the walls and unvarnished wood.

Halsin didn't ask you any questions at the time, suspecting that your mind was wandering between what had just happened and the present moment. However, as he closed the door to his room to avoid any further worries, he couldn't help asking you a question: “You seem surprised,” he asked as he turned to his shelves to prepare his remedies. “Why?”

His question snapped you out of your reverie, and you turned to face him. His back was facing you, and your thoughts took a different turn for a moment. Enough, however, for your cheeks to heat up.

“It's just... I thought you were so connected to nature that you would just sleep outside on the grass.”

He chuckled softly, turning to the table that was to serve as his desk as well as his workbench.

“Most of the time that's the case, but you have to admit that the comfort of a bed is sometimes more pleasant than the rock, or a rod that ploughs your back.”

“Don't you sleep in bear form, though ?” you asked, trying to adjust your posture so as not to let drops of blood fall onto his sheets.

“I do, but I can't stay in its shape forever.” he stated, pressing herbs, fats and other ingredients into a mortar. “Going back to instincts at all times can do no good to us all.”

You hummed, nodding in agreement.

Your eyes fell on your ripped sleeve, the light glinting off your open wound as it drifted down your leg. The fabric of your trousers was speckled with black spots, the blood taking precedence over its original colour.

You wanted to apologise, for the blood, for your presence here, for the trouble your people had caused. But could you blame your people for simply living? Sure, children pilfered, and the history attributed to your race didn't help prejudice, but to the point of closing down an entire place simply by your presence? No, you couldn't apologise.

Not when you were helping them, not when you were doing your best to contribute to the serenity of the grove.

Not when that crazy Kagha had almost taken your life on the sole pretext of your appearance.

“Why did you leave ?” The question escaped your lips, a little more shakily than you had hoped from the tightness in your throat.

Halsin turned to you, frowning. 

“Last night, were my words flat of meaning?” you could feel an intense knot in your throat.

He came towards you slowly, bowl and leaves placed on the ground as he knelt in front of you. Even so, he reached your sitting height. His lips were parted, his gaze soft and attentive.

Your heart broke, and your voice cracked as the beast of sadness clawed at your eyes and throat.

“You left me, after I told you I needed help,” you cried, hot tears of anger and exhaustion running down your cheeks.

“I-” began Halsin.

“You left me.” you repeated, your lips and chin quivering as you saw the reflection of your demonic eyes in Halsin's. You lowered your head, closing your eyes as you brought the back of your good hand to cover them.

All of a sudden, everything fell apart. The quarrels you had to watch over every day, the hard work you put in to make yourself look right, your escape from death tonight and the constant insults and hatred took their toll on your strength and made you break down.

Your face twisted with fatigue, tears trickling down your nose to your chin. You twitched, you were so tired.

Then, like someone covering you with a warm blanket, Halsin came and took you in his arms. He wasn't afraid of your dark eyes, or of being pierced by your horns in his arms, or of your claws that could be used as a weapon. His arms wrapped around you, and you felt so small and safe in them.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly as one of his hands caressed your back.

You began to sob again, your hands coming to rest on his broad back and holding him close to you as if this candour were going to vanish at any moment. You didn't know that you needed this embrace. To be held, to be comforted, to be safe in his arms. He didn't say anything, just stroked your back and hair gently, letting your tears and emotions flow into the silence.

When it seemed that you had no more tears to shed, and that you had calmed down, you remained like that against him.

“I'm sorry,” you mumbled against his shoulder. “for the blood, and for screaming at you and... for the trouble of my people.”

Halsin pulled away from you, and you regretted his action. Part of you wished you'd stayed there, in his arms, talking softly with an open heart.

The thought that your reaction would have been different if it hadn't been him who had embraced you came to mind, and your still swollen eyes met his, full of tenderness and understanding. He took your face in his hands, and your head seemed very small at that moment.

“This is far from being your fault, little bird,” he assured you, his thumb brushing away the remnants of tears on your cheeks. “I left you alone in the face of the fiercest of enemies: ignorance.”

“Yes, but I could have probably done better, at keeping the peace of the Grove in one piece.”

“Look where this led you,” he said softly as he eyed your leg, your arm, and your cut lip for longer than the previous two before coming back to your eyes. “You'll never stop compromising your own well being to help others, will you ?”

“I guess that makes something we have in common.” You smiled, and it was contagious enough for Halsin to mirror you.

“I cannot deny it, but I cannot deny the fact that you having been hurt because of my mistakes and blindness fills me with intense dread and guilt.” One of his hands ran along your shoulder until it came to the cut of your arm, his fingers pinching the fabric as his second hand came to hold your arm. ”May I ?”

You nodded, and Halsin waited no longer before tearing off your sleeve with total ease and setting the fabric aside. He stepped back slightly, placing both hands just above your knee, his gaze on you as he waited for you to confirm. You nodded once more, and the fabric, stronger than your shirt, tore like the transparent film covering the egg yolks. 

Your leg and arm were burning, tolerable of course, but that didn't stop it from being extremely unpleasant. He took a basin, placing both your feet in it, and conjured up water which ran down your legs and cleaned your wounds.

Halsin watched the wounds, muttering under his breath words that you didn't fully understand. The only thing you could translate from him at the moment was his frustration.

“It's going to be a bit cold,” he warned, almost in a whisper.

He took the green goo he'd concocted, spreading it with his fingers over your wounds as you shuddered and breathed in through your teeth.

“Why not simply use a healing spell?” you asked as he placed a leaf on the poultice.

“Kagha fights with poison, her scimitars can be coated with it by occasions, and I don't doubt that her link to the Shadow Druids might have altered her magic to the point where these thorns could be poisoned as well.” He turned to the next wound on your leg, “And I prefer to use real remedies if that's the case.”

You watched him at work, carefully applying the mixture and then pressing a leaf onto it.

“Are your wounds related to the reason you left today?” you asked.

His eyes drifted to the scratches on his arms, as if he'd forgotten about them.

“Yes, it so happens that one of the druids came to warn me in the morning of a problem not far from the forest. I suppose you see who Madame Ethel is?”

“I replaced her today at her stall,” you replied.

“We went to her house, it seemst that the Sunlit Wetlands have been profoundly changed by an evil that Ethel spread. She was a hag.”

You frowned. “Was?” the past tense made you doubt things had gone as planned.

“I went there on my own and as I entered the swamps I realised that something was wrong. It was when I got to Ethel's cottage that I realised her true identity, leading me to tracking her down deep underground to get to the bottom of it. She poisoned this land, I couldn't let her get away with destroying nature forever. I ended her henchmen and took care of her right after. A hag knows how to defend herself, she left me with a few meagre memories that will be gone soon enough but she was a tough opponent.”

Halsin had been out all day, investigating and risking his life to flush out a Hag who was deceiving the people in the grove into thinking she could help them. Who knows the next person she would have picked out and brought back to her cursed shack?

You also knew that Halsin preferred to avoid bloodshed as much as possible, and that he had spent a whole day killing creatures in the marshes. The guilt was creeping up your cheeks and up the back of your neck.

“And I screamed at you for doing something right, by the hells I'm so stupid,” you sighed as you brought your hand to your forehead.

Halsin smiled, regaining your eyes as he finished with your leg. “You had your reasons to be angry. I don't blame you, I don't know how I would have reacted either if I were in your situation.” He straightened up, dipping his fingers into the cup again before gently spreading the contents over your wound. “I never thought you had so much to endure by yourself. Between us both, I am the one that should be sorry.”

You said nothing, simply watching him at work. Once the last leaf was in place, he looked at your split lip, and your cheeks heated up like the inferno.

Halsin hooked your chin, his thumb pressing just below your lip as he watched the cut with a look you couldn't quite make out. Your cheek had swollen slightly, Kagha hadn't gone easy on you.

“Punch?” he asked simply, without taking his eyes off your lips.

“Mhm,” you simply hummed, hoping with all your heart that Halsin wouldn't feel your frantic heartbeat on your lip.

His thumb flew over the skin of your lip without ever touching it, murmuring: “Te curo.”

Your lip sealed, painlessly, with the electric sensation of magic emanating from his fingers.

He moved away, preparing to clean his utensils, but you stopped him. “May I?” you asked, pointing to his wounds. You wanted to help him in return, to do something, anything.

“It's just a few scratches,” he reassured you, “I can take care of those myself.”

“You took care of me,” you said as you tenderly took the bowl from between his hands, “Let me look after you.” He sighed, knowing you wouldn't flinch. He sat down properly in front of you, almost between your legs, placing his hands on the sheets not far from your hips, ready.

Just as he had done before, you said the incantation: “Aqua Pura.”

The water ran down his arms, cleaning his wounds until it ran up his temple to clear the cracked blood on his forehead.

“I didn't know you practised spells,” he said, surprised, “How did you learn?”

You dipped your fingers into the generous remains of the mixture, straightening up to gently apply it to his wounds.

“We were travelling during a summer so hot it felt like the underworld had swallowed us up again,” you began. “Hunger was an agony and madness we could endure, but the lack of water was starting to genuinely affect us. Luckily, some druids took us in for a few days in their temple. While some druids-to-be were training to learn spells, I was allowed to learn some of them alongside them. Nothing really extraordinary, just some healing spells, but above all a spell that would prove indispensable if the thirst returned: the creation of water.” You placed a few leaves delicately on his wounds, feeling his attentive gaze on your face.

“I told myself that, by coming here, I would find the precious help that had been given to me and my people,” you moved on to his second arm, “but I don't know if I was right.”

You felt an electrifying warmth settle on your thigh, Halsin's hand having rested tenderly in compassion on it.

“I'm terribly sorry that my absence and ignorance led you to doubt the help you were entitled to receive. I promise you that I will do everything in my power to put an end to this nonsense.”

You gave him a tender smile. You trusted him, after all he had just saved your life. You tilted your head to one side, your fingers tucking behind his pointed ear a stray lock of hair that must have fallen out of his bun during a day full of fighting. You applied the last of the poultice to his wound.

“I'm grateful that you came tonight,” you said. You cupped his face, looking into his eyes before placing a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you.”

Halsin seemed surprised by the touch, but smiled softly, straightening up and turning to face a wooden chest of drawers. He pulled out a shirt and trousers which, from what you could imagine just by looking at them in the half-light, would be far too big for you.

“You can take my quarters for the night-” He paused for a moment, watching your arm, and clutched the clothes in his hand. “Would you... need help putting these on ?”

Despite Halsin's care and attention to help with your injuries, your arm and leg were still hurting intensely. You couldn't find words that wouldn't make you sound desperate, so you simply nodded, your heart racing again.

He came to kneel beside you once more.

“Can you stand up for me?”

You tried to stand up, pushing on your good leg to keep yourself upright. You almost lost your balance, but Halsin took hold of your waist to keep you in place. Keeping his eyes on you, he took one of your hands and placed it on his shoulder.

“Hold on to me,” he offered.

He brought his two giant hands to your belt buckle, loosening it and unbuttoning your trousers, sliding them gently down your legs, taking care not to move the poultices. His fingers brushed against your skin, under which little fireworks sparkled.

Once the trousers were off, he took the ones he'd pulled out for you in his hands, a sort of sirwal pants that was loose-fitting and wouldn't touch your wounds too closely. 

The fabric was thin, and his warm hands running up your legs sent shivers down your spine. You hoped he wouldn't notice them, that the half-light and the cold on your bare skin would be enough of an alibi. You wrapped your tail around your leg so that it didn't stick out too far from your pants.

He tied the lace of the latter around your waist, not tightening it too much. Then he raised his eyes to yours, his hands still on your hips, gently pulling you back onto the bed to sit up.

“May I?” he asked again.

And again you nodded.

His hands moved up from your hips to your waist, gripping the sides of your shirt and helping to pull you out of the fabric. The cool night air spread over your back, but its freshness couldn't quell the fire in the back of your neck as Halsin's eyes bore down on you.

There was a moment of hesitation, of expectation almost. Waiting for a gesture, a sound, a look that would mean yes.

But Halsin inhaled deeply, taking the shirt between his fingers, rolling up the sleeves so that you could slip it on without worry. The shirt seemed as long as a dress, reaching halfway up your thighs.

He pulled the covers over his bed, opening them so that you could slide under them.

“Get some sleep, if you have a problem, I won't be far,” he said as he tucked you in properly.

“Okay,” you assured him.

He looked at you for a moment, his hand coming to brush a strand from your face.

“Sleep well,” he said before standing up.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

And he left.

Your lungs let out a breath they'd been unconsciously holding. You took the duvet and covered your head as if it could hide you and mute your heart.

Your duties as leader had, for most of your life by now, forced you to put aside advances or the idea of romance to keep your head on straight. But Halsin was getting in the way, shattering the wall of protection you'd built for yourself.

You could feel the fabric of his shirt on your body, a caramelised smell of wood, tall grass and warm stone permeating the fabric. His smell.

You surrendered yourself to its comfort.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep. The long day's work and your near-death experience had made you very tired.

It was the sun streaming through the windows that woke you up, its warm caress on your arm and face providing a pleasant morning kiss. You had no idea what time it was, you didn't know how long you'd been asleep, but it had been more than restorative.

Swapping the sensation of rocks and gravel scraping your back every night for sleeping on a straw mattress with a real bed worked wonders. What's more, your arm and leg weren't hurting so much any more. Halsin's poultices had sucked out all the poison they could, and the wounds had largely healed.

You tried to sit up, then to stand up. You took off the trousers, turning them the other way round and putting them on again to let your tail slip under the lace so that you didn't have to keep it wrapped around your leg.

There was still a little weakness and numbness in your leg, but fortunately it wasn't unpleasant enough to stop you from walking.

You rolled the fabric around your ankles to avoid tripping over the length of the pant legs, and walked out of the room. The place seemed deserted, so you set off back outside the Druid quarters to find your people. They must have been worried, and you feared that the absence of their leaders had led to a catastrophe while you were resting.

The druids' cave was empty too, which was most unusual.

You reached the stone door, passed through it and fell silent.

Around the fountain of Silvanus, the druids had gathered. The rite had stopped, much to your relief, but there was a real sense of tension.

Kagha was on trial before her entire circle.

You didn't move any further, not daring to violate this sacred and serious moment.

“Kagha,” Halsin spoke as he stood in the centre of the fountain, high up where the idol of Silvanus once stood. “During my absence, two papers representing evidence of your connection with the Shadow Druids were found. The first,” he pointed to the letter you had read the day before, “was found in your chest here in the Grove. And the second,” he held up a second letter for all to see, passing these two to the other Druids so they could all read them, “in the swamps.”

You crossed your arms, attentive.

“Yesterday, following rumours that proved to be true, I began a cleansing of the sickness that had taken over these lands. During this operation, however, on my way to one of our ancient sacred trees, I found this paper in a hole in a false bark.”

The druids' eyebrows furrowed one by one as they read and heard Halsin's arguments.

“The hatred and contempt of others for Kagha led her to join the Shadow Druids.”

There were shocked murmurs and surprised looks were directed at Kagha, who seemed to be dying of shame and guilt.

“These ideas and behaviours led her to want to perform The Rite of Thorns,” he turned to you, his gaze resting on yours, “and to come to violence.”

He called your name, and in an instant all eyes were on you. 

He came down the steps of the fountain, coming to you so that you could lean on him and walk to your people.

“Kagha even went so far as to attack the leader of the tieflings and deliberately wound her in an attempt to kill her.”

Shock was rising among the druids, and your people all came to you as soon as Halsin had brought you close enough to them, who were waiting on the steps leading to the fountain.

Halsin turned back to the druids.

“Many stories were relayed to me during the night by the Tiefling, accounts unworthy of the status of druid and protector of nature. Kagha was prepared to kill a simple, frightened child in need of help.”

Kagha looked down at her feet, her face contorted with guilt. 

“Every druids in our circle will exchange as to your fate, Kagha, for we cannot remain indifferent to your actions.”

Two druids came and grabbed Kagha's arms, leading her towards the stone door. The rest gathered round, chatting frantically amongst themselves.

The children hugged you, tears in their eyes as they asked you what had happened. The parents and the others were furious that this pest had had the audacity to touch you. Zevlor pushed them aside, insisting that you were hurt and needed some air after all that had happened.

“You scared the hells out of us, are you alright ?” he asked.

“Everything's fine, more fear than harm,” you reassured him. “I've spoken to Halsin, things are going to be alright.”

Halsin walked towards you, and Zevlor took the opportunity to move all the tiefling away so that he and you could have a private conversation.

“Slept well I presume?” he asked, a charming smile gracing his lips.

“Best sleep I've had in ages,” you confirmed, leaning against a wall to keep yourself upright and not put too much weight on your leg.

“How are you feeling?” he questioned, placing his palm on your forehead to see if you had a fever, then taking your arm in hand to roll up the sleeve and see the state of your wounds.

“Better than I expected. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't shown up.”

“I'd rather not imagine,” he assured. “I spoke to Zevlor and the others last night to explain the situation, and their explanations were very surprising. I honestly had no idea what was going on here.”

“I think we came very close to a catastrophe,” you confirmed, your eyes riveted on his.

“Why did you lie,” he began, “when I came back and Arabella was crying?”

“I thought... blaming each other wasn't going to solve anything. I just hoped that Kagha would understand that she had made a mistake.” you say, your eyes drifting over the fountain which, until recently, was an object of constant torment. “Besides, I was alone in a whole room of druids who were supposed to obey her, I didn't know how things could develop with so much tension.”

“I understand why you did what you did, but I beg you: if ever in the future any incident of this kind should happen again, I ask you to come and see me and tell me about it. What do you say, little bird?”

The nickname for the second time made your heart leap into your chest.

“All right,” you assured him.

“Good,” he turned to the group of druids still chatting. “I must get back, but be assured we will have a long discussion necessary for the balance of the grove after this.”

“I'll wait patiently,” you smiled at him as he turned to leave.

The verdict came, and Kagha was exiled. Halsin came to find you, and a long conversation about recent events ensued.

At the end of it, he came to the conclusion that he had to ensure that his presence was  in the daily life of the grove until you could all leave peacefully.

You and Halsin looked after the harmony of the Grove between the druids and the tiefling, while you helped him with the purification of the land.

There were many things you and Halsin didn't say, glances that lingered, closeness that went beyond the merely professional, and a tension in the air that needed to be broken.

The goblin camp that had so far caused problems was deserted thanks to some travellers, and soon a party was organised for the tieflings' departure.

The evening before departure came, and the Bosquet fountain was decorated as if in a real fairytale. Garlands of magical fireflies hung in the air, butterflies fluttered everywhere, and the dishes scented the night air.

Alfira played her lute with other druids for music, Vollo told the children fantastic stories, and everyone danced and enjoyed themselves.

You were wearing a dress sewn by the druids in gratitude for peace, with a relaxed, elegant cut, made from their own fabrics and detailed with lace made from spider's webs. Your horns were adorned with jewels, your eyes highlighted with make-up and perfumed with delicate flower essences.

It was Halsin's turn to arrive at the fountain, wearing a superb suit in shades of brown and green that blended perfectly to underline his elegance.

He greeted a few people, his gaze roaming over the crowds before finally settling on you, his eyes roving up and down your silhouette in what seemed like a trance. You smiled, bringing the cup of your drink to your lips.

He moved towards you after greeting most of the people.

“I almost didn't recognise you,” he admitted, “I'm glad I haven't been drinking yet, if I had I would have choked uponseeing you, and I wouldn't have had all my wits about me to properly appreciate this rare opportunity to see you like this.”

Heat rose to your cheeks.

“I hope my glass will let me hear and understand all the lovely things you have to say to me.”

“Then I can start with the most serious part,” he smiled, facing you, “I wish to travel with you.”

It was you who nearly choked at the announcement, turning to him, confused.

“Travel with us?”

“Only if you agree to receive me,” he continued, not wishing to impose this idea in any way. “The Shadow Lands still haunt me and I know that you must inevitably pass through them to get to Baldur's Gate. I simply ask to travel with you, to give you my help if need be, and…” his hand along his thigh came gently to take yours, “to spend more time with you.”

Your heart was racing in your chest, and you grinned until your cheeks ached and you started to laugh.

Halsin looked deeply confused, had you had more than one drink already, or had he simply said something ridiculous ?

“What is it?” he asked, smiling.

“Nothing, it's just," you composed yourself, pressing his hand in yours, "I was wondering when you were going to ask me all that.”

His face relaxed, relief lowering his shoulders.

In the distance, Alfira and the orchestra were now playing softer music. 

He raised your clasped hands.

“Could I have the undying honour of dancing with you?” he asked.

“It would be my greatest pleasure,” you confirmed as you joined the group of dancers. You put your free hand on his shoulder, and his came to rest in the hollow of your waist.

“How long have you been thinking about asking me this, to travel with us ?” you questioned.

“Since the trial of Kagha, when things started to get better at the Grove,” he said, waltzing gently with you.

“And,” your smile widened, tilting your head back slightly, ’how long have you been thinking about wanting to spend more time with me?’

He couldn't help but smile back. ‘Since our discussion under the stars.

“About the sheep and the rose ?”

“Precisely the sheep and the rose,” he agreed. He moistened his lips, his eyes falling on yours. “And then the next night, after Kagha had wounded you.”

You remembered that night as if it had been etched in your memory forever. As well as the fear, the pain and the fatigue, you could never forget the feel of Halsin's hands on your body, or his smell, or his eyes on you.

“I have to admit I could barely refrain myself from keeping my touches polite,” he admitted, lowering his lips to your ear. "My hands were aching to linger on you."

“I wish you had never left them from me.” you confirmed in a whisper, his voice and breath on your neck making you shiver.

Halsin hummed, his chest vibrating against you. You were aware of how close you were, how the air you shared had thinned.

“Fortunately,” he murmured, his hand roaming over your back and bringing you a little closer to him, ”this is something I can remedy for both of us.”

Your breaths spread across your cheeks, your noses brushing.

“I want to have you by my side, in every land we roam, in every place we stay, under any sky that covers us.” he whispered as you felt the warm, tender skin of his lips graze yours. “I want you.”

Neither of you waited any longer to kiss, abandoning yourselves, to the feelings, to the envy, to the sweetness of the night.

Cheers of joy echoed around you, applause resounding throughout the grove. Halsin smiled against your lips, his hand cupping your face as he continued to kiss you.

Everyone celebrated your love, which had no intention of waning.

[amorgansgal]

A Little Taste of Pleasure

So maybe it's just me ever sniffing out the rarepairs, but I just really like the idea of Halsin and Nettie having a friends with benefits kind of relationship. Maybe more affectionate than just FWBs but... ya know.. it just kind of compells me. So I wrote a little NSFW piece.

Halsin x Nettie

CW: Sexual content, mentions of oral sex, fingering, size difference kink

The bottles on the stone table rattled and clinked, as he held her aloft and thrust rhythmically into her. She loved this feeling, how full she felt, how much she could see the outline of his cock swelling her belly, the delicious helplessness as he used her, his hands holding tightly onto her back and waist, as her legs attempted to wrap around his waist but there was not a chance in hells she was ever going to manage it. 

Oh sometimes they switched, sometimes she would sink onto his thick cock and ride him, watch the powerful, impossibly large druid attempt to hold back his moans as she rolled her hips, as she greedily took his hand, sucked on his thumb, saw the fierce burn in his eyes as he whimpered and groaned, and then placed his thumb against the apex of her sex, urging him to circle her clit, bring her to pleasure over and over again. Sometimes she struggled to take him, for all he prepared her well, sinking his tongue into her, lapping at her, stretching her with his fingers and even then her pathetic little struggles as she bucked and tried to take him in deeper seemed to please him.

‘Don’t rush, Nettie, enjoy yourself, pleasure yourself.’ 

One of his hands went to clutch the stone, his hips still snapping into her hard and fast, the delirious realisation that he was bearing her full weight on just his one arm made her whimper with pleasure. He pressed into her, so she was held against his chest and couldn’t see anything other than his warm skin and soft hair that trailed down, down, down to where they were joined. 

‘Fuck, Nettie,’ he murmured her name, trying so hard to keep quiet and failing. She was almost certain some of the other druids knew about their liaisons, but were either too polite to say anything or too perturbed by the idea. 

‘You aren’t ashamed of us meeting and finding pleasure?’ Halsin had once asked her.

‘No, I just like having something secret and sweet between the two of us. I’m sure they’ve guessed, but I like having a little bit of you all to myself,’ she replied. He had smiled at that, almost wolfishly, and a delightful shiver ran down her spine at his gaze. 

She could feel how close he was, hear it, almost smell it. He was biting his lip hard to stop his groans, his thrusting now sloppy and hurried as he reached the peak of his pleasure, he pulled his hand away from the stone to frantically stroke her clit, the slick caught on his fingers making wonderful sparks of pleasure course through her. She was close, so impossibly close, he wanted her to cum around him, needed her to cum. Her pleasure was his. 

‘Nettie,’ he groaned her name. ‘Please come for me, I need to feel-’

They were well practised and his murmured praises and sweet words and clever fingers made her lose all sense of herself, as hot pleasure rushed through her and he cunt clenched tightly around him. Her toes curled and the muscles in her thighs ached, and he came with a muffled cry of bliss. Halsin filled her up, she could feel his cum already leaking from her slit, there was just far too much for her to hold. As he pulled out and laid her down on the table, his fingers replaced his cock, pressing the cum and slick back inside her, making her moan as he began to fuck her again. When they had the chance, this went on for hours sometimes, because Halsin would harden while he finger fucked her and then he would take her with his cock again. But today they did not have the time for such luxuries. She did her best to grip onto his wrist.

‘Halsin, we can’t,’

‘We have time.’

‘No, we don’t, we’re already running late. Please,’ she whined.

His movements halted and he sighed. She smiled at his expression, how much he wanted to keep going to fill her over and over, keep her well sated.  He found her undergarments, carefully sliding them up her legs. He liked it knowing there was a little damp spot on them. He then found her clothes and set about dressing her, finally helping her up from the table.

‘Thank you, I needed that,’ he said.

She smiled and gestured for him to lower his head, gently cupping his cheek when he had done so and giving him a soft, sweet kiss.

[xalygatorx]

Unbound | Chapter 3, "Swan Songs"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: Áine, Astarion, and their companions leave the Grove’s center without a cure. Áine tries to heal the helplessness she feels at not being able to help herself and her friends by trying to help the tieflings, including a bard named Alfira and a child nearly lured into a harpy’s nest. Wyll joins the group. Tensions rise as our merry band of misfits take out their stress on each other. Áine agrees to send them off to sleep with a song to smooth out the creases of the day.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Graphic fantasy violence; suggestive dialogue; angst; grief; not proofread (I couldn't do it, just look at the word count, I'm bushed); this one's really long and I'm just sorry idk

Word Count: 9.9k

Listening to: Weeping Dawn and Harpy Song from the BG3 soundtrack, Sleepsong - Secret Garden

The flask of wyvern poison felt ten times its actual heft in her pocket as Áine left the inner sanctum of the Grove with more questions than answers gained, her band of companions following in her wake and varying from smug to downtrodden. She’d fully expected Lae’zel to be the first to pipe up and give her what for about wasting their time with the Grove when they could be making their way to a crèche instead. However, it was Astarion who spoke first.

“What are you thinking, just swearing your life away with a vial of poison from some amateur healer?” he demanded as soon as they’d exited through the stone slab gateway and maneuvered through the horde of druids outside.

The entire Grove was hard at work to prepare the ritual that would seal off the area for good as soon as the tiefling refugees were outside its borders. Something still felt entirely off about Kagha’s insistence to fully prohibit outsiders, but it was neither Áine’s expertise nor her place to accuse the woman of anything (except being a monster regarding her treatment of the little tiefling girl, Arabella). All she could realistically do was as she’d said she would, which was try to spring the Archdruid Halsin from the nearby goblin camp if he still drew breath and send him back here to fix things as soon as he fixed their tadpole problem.

When the pale elf didn’t let up, Áine groaned. “Astarion, please, I’m not going to toss it back right here in front of you now, it’s a last resort. Besides, you saw Nettie. She wasn’t going to let us leave alive if I didn’t swear I’d take it and it wouldn’t add anything to our credibility to leave the Grove’s healer dead in her room.”

Astarion was still disgruntled, but he did appreciate that there wasn’t a scenario Áine’s words presented in which they’d lose that particular fight. Even though it was a bit of an obvious win by numbers and odds, her confidence was appealing to him. 

In the absence of Astarion’s griping, Lae’zel finally fulfilled Áine’s expectations by speaking up. “A draught of poison is indeed preferable to becoming ghaik,” she said, surprising Áine just by siding with her to any degree. “It will be a good option to have should the worst come to pass. Which it needn’t so long as we manage to get to a crèche before the transformation begins.” 

There it is, Áine thought, although delivered with less vehemence than anticipated. Give her time, I suppose. We might get to the point of “I told you so” yet.

“Do you really believe that a crèche will be able to cure us, Lae’zel?” Gale asked from behind Áine, his brow knitted into a deep line.

“Of course,” Lae’zel said. “I intend to seek the aid of a ghustil—a healer—as soon as we have a location for the nearest crèche. And to do that, I must find this Zorru among the teethlings.”

“They’re tieflings,” Áine corrected her. There was no judgment or edge to her tone, but Shadowheart sneered as if there were. When Áine caught her eye, she gave their cleric a disparaging look. Whatever was going on between her and Lae’zel had to be put to rest one way or another. Áine was already tired of navigating it and, seeing as they would indeed all be traveling together for the foreseeable future, it needed to be settled.

Lae’zel rolled her eyes and what Áine at first thought was an expression of irritation turned out to just be the githyanki testing the world in her mind before trying it on her tongue. “Tieflings then,” she corrected herself with a firm nod.

“I’m not looking forward to informing Zevlor that Kagha wouldn’t budge on their departure date,” Gale interjected as they neared the stone stairway to head back toward where the refugees had set up what was by all intents and purposes a makeshift village in the caverns below.

“Well luckily for you, he’ll be asking me what happened, I’d wager,” Áine said, parting her lips to say more when she paused, stopping in her tracks. Someone bumped into her from behind, but she stayed rooted, listening. Someone was singing up on the hilltop overlooking the beach.

“Is everything—Áine, where are you going?” Gale asked, his hand rubbing over his jaw where it had connected with the back of her head when she stopped ahead of him. She was already halfway to the hillside though and the rest of them were left to either follow or wait for her down in the Grove. No one thought to go on ahead without her, which in truth spoke to how integral to the party she’d already become.

Áine walked the path up to a small encampment set apart from the others, a sweep of colorful fabric arranged over some posts. Beneath it, sitting on a rock with a lute cradled in her lap, was an equally colorful tiefling woman, and Áine needed no assistance in recognizing a kindred spirit. Something was the matter though—the woman’s brow was crumpled and she looked lost in thought, her curved claws drumming agitatedly against the hollow body of her instrument.

“Dance upon the stars tonight… Smile and pain will fade away. Words of mine will change…no. Become—ugh,” the bard sighed, bowing her head and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“That was lovely,” Áine said, hoping she didn’t startle the poor girl out of her train of thought. It seemed at the moment though perhaps she was more in need of a kind word than more silence in which to stew over her lyrics. In fact, she seemed close to tears of one kind or another and that was something that Áine could distinctly relate to. 

The living rainbow of a tiefling looked up at her dismally and her eyes did indeed look a little glossy. “It sounded like a cat being strangled… Godsdammit.”

Áine frowned softly and tilted her head. “Are you alright?”

“No, I’m moments away from grisly death from this bloody song,” she gritted through a scowl. She collected herself and her features relaxed some before she looked back at Áine beseechingly. “I can’t… Nothing fits—you know?”

Behind her, Áine’s companions had caught up with her but she was too absorbed in the young tiefling bard’s troubles to notice right away. She knew grief when she saw it and suddenly it was more important than anything she did that day—save perhaps finding a way to help Zevlor get his people out of the Grove and safely back on the road before Kagha made good on her threats—that she help her sort out this song. “Would you like some help?” she asked.

The tiefling bard’s features became more drawn, but she said, “Hm. It can’t hurt. I have her… I have an extra lute if you want?”

The stumble in her words gave Áine an idea of what was eating at her and she settled onto the rocky hilltop near the other bard’s perch. “That lute seems like it may be special to you, so trust me when I say you don’t want my unpracticed hands on it,” Áine said with a self-deprecating smile. She produced her lyre from the securing belt on her bag. “But I will try to keep up. At worst, we sort out more possibilities that don’t fit, hm? Narrow it down some.”

“Oh… Right,” the other bard said. “That is another way of seeing it. Reminds me of her a little.”

Áine’s eyes gentled on the tiefling and she asked, “What’s your name?”

“Oh, how rude of me… I forget myself. I’m Alfira,” she said with an apologetic smile that didn’t quite touch her eyes. 

“Well met, Alfira. I’m Áine,” Áine said with an inclination of her head. “Now, first thing’s first, what’s your song about?”

Behind her, out of earshot, Lae’zel was growing antsy. “Chk, we are wasting valuable time,” she growled under her breath.

“Well you are more than welcome to go on alone,” Shadowheart hissed back. “No one is forcing you to stay.”

“No one could if they tried, istik,” Lae’zel snapped back.

Gale gave the two a pleading glance. “Let’s not be hasty,” he said, his voice lowered to match theirs. “It’s been a trying day, we are all feeling it. No need to take it out on each other. Please.”

Shadowheart’s hackles slowly lowered, but the glare remained vibrant on her pale heart-shaped face. Likewise, the githyanki warrior’s scowl lingered, but she uttered no more than a singular, quieter chk beneath her breath. 

Gale cautiously removed his gaze from them to look back at Áine and the tiefling bard she was sitting with just ahead of them, who looked to be in a sorry state. He glanced sideways at Astarion, who was uncharacteristically pensive—from what he’d seen so far anyway—as his scarlet eyes bore into Áine’s back. Gale was unsettled by the intensity of his stare. 

Whether it was instinct or for personal reasons that bordered a realm of jealousy, he wasn’t yet sure. But something was a bit off about their ashen elvish friend and Gale wasn’t so sure his hunch came purely from a place of feeling territorial. Gale’s gaze slipped back to Áine, who had started to pluck at her lyre as she and the tiefling, he assumed, tested out a lyric.

“Thinking of it now,” Alfira was saying, recounting a fond memory of the source of inspiration for her song, her old teacher, and grinning ear to pointy ear, “my heart hurts and my words just seem to crumble…” The troubled look in her eyes returned, her smile fading by increments. “Like ash.” She let the statement sit on her tongue for a few seconds before her eyes widened and she whirled to look at Áine. “Wait…”

“Give it a try,” Áine encouraged her.

Alfira took up her lute again, her hands nearly jittering as she plucked the strings and sang, “Words of mine will turn to ash… That’s perfect!” Her grin returned, spread joyously across her pale blue face.

“Keep going,” Áine said. “What would you say to your teacher now, given the chance?”

Alfira’s brow creased. “That… That it’s okay. That I’ll be okay.” She sighed, her eyes becoming watery again. “And thank you…for everything.”

“There you go,” Áine said, playing Alfira into her next verse with a few more plucks of her lyre. 

Nearby, Astarion couldn’t help but notice how deftly she seemed to be with it now, and in just a short time. A strange sense of pride stirred in his chest after seeing her just a day or so ago blush with the embarrassment of never having held one before. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Gale’s expression warm over, likely with a similar thought. Pride simmered into envy in his chest, one sin to another. By the gods, what was wrong with him? 

“...all the love I can’t repay… Wait!” Alfira half-shouted with excitement. “That’s it! That’s really it!” She hopped up to her feet, enlivened with new energy through creative triumph and she hastened to try and include Áine. “Can you play a flute, my friend? I would adore having your help for just a bit longer.”

“That, I can do,” Áine said, setting her lyre fully down on her lap and accepting the flute Alfira brought her. Her companions’ attention drew in behind her—Áine’s flute had ended up lodged in that graverobber back in the crypt before they’d ever heard her play. Even Shadowheart and Lae’zel momentarily forgot their squabble-in-the-making as Alfira began to strum and Áine seamlessly wove in her accompaniment.

“Dance upon the stars tonight

Smile and pain will fade away

Words of mine will turn to ash

When you call the last light down”

The delight in Alfira’s playing, in her singing, was tangible in the salty sea air. Her serenade wrapped around them like a warm embrace, her eyes fastened on the blue sky spanning above them. Taken with the song and the two bards performing it, Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart all subconsciously had allowed soft smiles to find their lips. Even Lae’zel had softened as soon as she was sure no one was paying her any mind.

“Moon reminds me of your grace

All the love I can’t repay

Rest and know that I will pray

Farewell, my dear old friend…”

Alfira strummed her few final notes and just held her lute for a moment, her eyes closing and a single tear escaping from the fringe of her lashes. She sat back down as Áine lowered the flute from her lips and smiled to hear the light applause of her friends rise from behind her, silently thanking them for encouraging the other bard like she wanted to. “Sorry,” Alfira said, her voice breaking over the apology.

Áine just stayed where she was, smiling gently. “No need to be sorry. That was beautiful.”

Alfira smiled and sniffled. “Thanks,” she said. “That’s the first time I’ve played since my teacher, Lihala, died.” She cast a look toward the extra lute she’d mentioned, propped carefully against a wicker basket. “She was playing her lute. We… We didn’t hear the gnolls coming.” Her jaw worked. “There was so much blood… I can still smell it.”

Áine’s heart sank. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Your teacher would be proud of you. To see you now.”  

Alfira laughed. “She’d yell at me for that clunky verse,” Alfira mused, finding comfort in whatever memories flooded her. “And make me play ‘til my fingers were raw.” She took a deep breath and nodded once, with feeling. “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Finish ‘The Weeping Dawn.’ For her. I’ve a long way to go, but…thank you.” Her eyes found Áine’s again and they were reddened at the rims, but hopeful. “I… I needed this.”

Áine’s eyes softened as she said, “I think I did, too. So thank you, Alfira.”

Alfira smiled as she said, “Until we meet again, my friend. Take care, Áine.”

The half-drow bard inclined her head and set the flute down on Alfira’s woven blanket, strapping her lyre back onto her bag and slinging the straps back over her shoulders as she rose and moved to rejoin the others.

When she reached them, Gale clapped a light hand against her shoulder. “Better?” he asked.

Áine’s lips curled, first with a bit of sheepishness at her unexpected venture and then genuine emotion as she let her first kneejerk reaction fall away. “Much.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said you knew your way around a flute,” Shadowheart complimented her, her green eyes alight with admiration. “I had no idea we were being led by such a talented bard, versed in strings or no.”

“I would call her versed in strings after that,” Gale said. “That was some sort of record as far as I know in picking up the lyre!” 

In step behind them, as the group made their way back down the hillside, Astarion bristled at Gale’s thieving of his own earlier thoughts. It wasn’t as if he’d voice them, but why did the wizard have to voice them and get all the credit as if he alone had formed the thought?

Áine ducked her head, embarrassed. “Hardly, but thank you,” she said. “Still have a long way to go with it, I was just happy to keep up.”

“Do you hear that?” Shadowheart suddenly asked and her voice was just off enough that Áine stopped to look at her. The cleric’s gaze was drawn toward a nearby pathway to the beach. “It’s…singing? It’s beautiful.”

Áine listened. She heard the singing too and it was beautiful. It also made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

She watched as Shadowheart, first hesitantly and then eagerly, followed the song. Gale fell into step behind her, even Astarion did as well after a few seconds’ pause. It was just Áine and Lae’zel left in the group’s original position. “It would seem their craving for music is indiscriminate,” Lae’zel commented. “At this rate, we may only hope that they can be so easily led along by their noses to a zaith'isk for purification. Faerûn’s creatures’ fleshy noses are certainly fashioned for such things.”

Áine couldn’t even spare a second to laugh at Lae’zel’s unsubtle jabs as she started to follow in their companions’ wake. “No, something’s wrong.”

They hurried down to the shoreline and Áine paused, seeing a tiefling child standing knees deep in the seawater. The singing was much louder here and Áine turned to check on Lae’zel, but she remained unaffected by whatever was enchanting their companions and, apparently, this child as well. The little tiefling sighed dreamily, “Such a pretty song…”

“Hey,” Áine said, looking back to see Lae’zel experimentally snapping her fingers in front of their companions’ faces. Still, they ambled toward the shore as well, although it did seem like Shadowheart was at least fighting it a little now. She focused back on the child, who was in more immediate danger as he started to walk even further into the water. “That’s far enough, it’s not safe to be so far out in the ocean.”

“No, no, it’s just a bit of water… Don’t you hear it?” he asked her, his voice leagues away. Something was awry with his eyes when he looked up at her. Magic swirled within them, but not his magic. Áine bent down and restrained him with a hand to his chest, looking back at her companions. The nearest to her and the water was Astarion and his usually bright red eyes were the same shade of swirling purple as the tiefling child’s. Something was indeed very wrong. “It’s so peaceful. I just want to listen… Perhaps a little closer.”

Something rustled nearby and Áine turned as much as she could while still holding onto the child to follow the new sound. Great feathery wings folded against a leathery, feminine body upon one of the craggy rockfaces that spiraled upward from the shallow waters nearby. Harpies. She’d never seen them in person, but they were easily recognizable the moment she slapped eyes on one. And it wasn’t alone.

“Yes…,” the child sighed again, working against her to step deeper into the lapping waves. “Everything’s gonna be fine…once I get there.”

“Lae’zel!” Áine gritted desperately as she shuffled the child with her two steps over so she could block Astarion with her body from advancing any further into the tides. She didn’t know what she was going to do when Gale made it this far or if Shadowheart began to give in to the harpy song’s lure again.

“Affirmative,” Lae’zel growled, unsheathing her longsword and hurtling toward the harpy nearest her to start picking her way through the beasts to the one at the center, the one who was singing. Áine wanted to rush in and help, but could do little more in her current position than buy her time.  

Speaking of her current position, she barely snatched the back of the child’s shirt before he managed to get out of arm’s reach, her eyes rounding with panic as the harpy who was singing, the largest and most likely the matriarch of the group, bore down with hungry eyes focused on the little morsel Áine was barely keeping from the rocky outcrop. She had succeeded so far in holding off Astarion, too, but her anxiety spiked as he wrapped an arm around her waist to move her aside. She could hold off a child and perhaps a man Astarion’s size on a good day, but she certainly couldn’t do both. But she had to do both.

Midway through shifting her out of his way, Áine felt Astarion’s arm steel around her, his body becoming rigid. She looked up at him and his eyes were flickering between their normal red and the possessing violet hues of the harpy’s spell. “Get these infernal creatures out of my head,” he growled through clenched teeth. 

Gale was calves-deep in the waves now and Shadowheart was losing her battle for control, taking staggering steps down the sandy slope of the shore. She had to do something and she had to find a way to do it now.

Áine planted her free hand on Astarion’s shoulder and shoved downward, planting him on his backside in the shallow water. It stopped him moving and the shock of the water splashing around him helped him hang on a little longer to his own mind. “Hold this,” she said, quickly pulling the tiefling kid backward and sending him into Astarion’s arms. 

Hands freed, she ripped her bag off her back and her lyre with it and began strumming as loudly and aggressively as she could, drowning out the song for her nearby companions and the tiefling child. A round of bemused blinking encouraged her to keep going and she saw Lae’zel successfully dispatch the first of the harpies, immediately moving on to the next in quick succession. She just had to buy some time. And maybe end the bewitching song if she could.

“Hey!” she shouted at the lead harpy, who barely paid her mind apart from curling her lip in a half-snarl when Áine kept strumming her lyre as loudly as she could. 

As she strummed, purple sparks began to fly from her fingertips, eventually collecting and engulfing the lyre in her hands, awaiting only whatever insults she was prepared to hurl at the birdlike creature ahead of her. And, boy, did she have some ready.

Áine went from just playing as loudly as she could to plucking an irreverent tune from the lyre, occasionally giving two quick, aggressive sweeps of the strings both to punctuate her playing and to interrupt the flow of the harpy’s enchantment. “An overgrown chicken, a bitch of a bird, and your cadence and rhythm are fucking absurd,” Áine snapped, the vicious mockery of her lyrics also ringing staccato in time with her strumming, a one-sided rap battle of a roast.

The harpy’s song continued, but Áine heard the tiniest waver in its tone, its eyes slowly detaching from the tiefling child it was practically salivating over to glare at her now. Perfect.

Áine hit the strings again. “No style, no edge, no flair, but what should I expect, you’ve got feathers for hair,” she added, sneering when she finally fully interrupted the harpy’s concentration and it turned its angry beetle-black eyes her way. Behind her, she heard the tiefling child’s stifled laughter. She needed nothing else to inspire her to keep going. One of her strings broke when she next scored them with her nails, but she didn’t miss a beat. “Nine feet tall, all ugly and shame, don’t be upset because you can’t play the game!”

Welp, that did it. With a screech, the harpy matriarch unfurled its wings and lunged off the rocks toward her and several things happened very quickly thereafter. 

Áine barely had time to consider whether to drop her lyre or pull her weapon first before she saw Lae’zel leap off the rock after the last harpy standing. Her longsword swung up over her head and she stabbed it down cleanly through the harpy’s back, but Áine only saw the first few seconds of that firsthand before she was tackled out of the way. 

She and whoever connected with her tumbled through wet sand and shallow waves, arcs of seawater flicking upward and glittering when they caught the sun. Áine landed hard on her lyre and felt it crack underneath her, but she supposed it was better than some part of her breaking either by impact or by harpy claws. Lae’zel and the harpy corpse slammed down into the surf, splashing everyone in the vicinity, Áine included, which was when she shifted from her side to her back to see who she had to thank for getting her out of the way. 

Of course it was the elf. But where she first expected to see a smug or even flirtatious expression, maybe even accompanied by an off-the-cuff joke about having her pinned down, she saw he wasn’t even looking at her. She’d caught him mid-glance to where the harpy had landed and she got to see him for a few seconds unmasked. And he looked worried.

Astarion looked down at her and too soon his clever façade pulled back over his features, a rakish smirk finding his lips. “I could get used to this, you know,” he murmured, finding the innuendo just seconds after Áine already had on his behalf.

“I wouldn’t,” Áine posited, but she did so lightheartedly with a smile and an eye-roll.

He chuckled before becoming a little more serious. “Are you alright?”

“Sure,” Áine said, slowly realizing with some measure of concern that she didn’t mind his proximity so much as she thought she should. “Thanks. Are you?”

Astarion nodded and parted his lips to throw out what Áine expected to be an additional too-smooth line of flirtation of either the cheesy or deviant variety, but he thought better of saying whatever he was about to and met her eyes again instead. “I have to hand it to you,” he said, his sincerity startling her, “that was clever. And creative to boot. You’re quite funny.”

Áine smirked. “It’s my sincere honor to have earned your approval,” she said, the statement framed like a jest but ringing just as sincerely as his did. 

“As I’ve told you before, dearest,” he said as he raised himself off her and got to his feet, reaching a hand down for her, “not many do.”

Áine smiled, taking the offered hand and standing up. She was covered head to toe in sand and damp with seawater, but then so were the others in varying capacities. The bard knelt and picked up her lyre. The instrument left an uninterrupted imprint in the sand, but the moment it was peeled off the shore, its wooden back separated into halves, the strings all that held it together now. “Oh, come on,” she grumbled, tossing the broken instrument overtop a nearby barrel. 

“Was that my fault?” Astarion asked, not sounding particularly sorry if it were.

“No,” Áine said, absently taking the band out of her hair to work out a few tangles before she wound it back into its usual messy knot at her nape. The seawater would wreak havoc on her long white locks, which frankly was the least of their problems now. She’d simply have to take advantage of the next freshwater source they came across. “That would’ve been me if you hadn’t pushed me when you did.”

A lopsided smile found Astarion’s lips and the way the sweet expression brightened his face shot a bolt of heat from Áine’s heart down to…somewhere. By the gods, what is wrong with me today? “More than happy to take you under me any time, darling. Just say the word,” he purred near her ear. Suddenly she was fine again. At least that’s what she told herself as she leaned away from him and scowled. 

Her gaze shifted as the little tiefling child stumbled up to them, their hands clutched against their chest. “Thank you for saving me,” they stammered. “I don’t remember what happened, but… Here! Thank you!” 

They quickly tossed something sparkly toward Áine and dashed off back toward the Grove. She deftly caught whatever he’d tossed their way between her palms, opening them to reveal a gold amulet with a little emerald at its center. The pendant was rendered to look like the same symbol she’d seen all over the Grove, so she supposed it must’ve had something to do with the druids and maybe their god, Sylvanus. 

“Hmph,” Áine uttered aloud, pocketing the amulet as the others joined her and Astarion. “Everyone okay? Lae’zel, that was the,” Áine paused to choose words that might translate better than her initial description, “most incredible finishing strike I’ve ever seen. Well done.”

That drew a proud smile from the githyanki, who inclined her head to acknowledge Áine’s praise.

“I’ve got a bit of a headache, but I’m otherwise surprisingly alright,” Gale said, rubbing the back of his head. “Thanks to you two exclusively, of course. One would think I would recognize a harpy song as much as I’ve studied Faerûn’s beasts and monsters and know better than to follow it straight to its nest.”

“Hardly a choice,” Shadowheart sighed, also seeming a little drained. “It’s magic like anything else, I’m afraid. Lucky us that our whole party didn’t fall subject to it or those creatures would’ve eaten particularly well tonight.” She smiled at Áine. “Thank you for saving us.”

It didn’t slip past Áine’s notice that Shadowheart actively avoided looking at Lae’zel. She had a feeling it hadn’t slipped past Lae’zel’s notice either. Áine sighed and smiled back, shelving that for later. If barely surviving a desperate encounter with those feathered monstrosities wouldn’t lessen her ire toward their gith companion, she wasn’t sure what would. Which meant that she’d have to talk to Shadowheart privately about this, herself, and soon. The Grove had been a dead end for their tadpole extractions, which meant they would all be sticking together a while longer. There was no room in their ranks, by Áine’s estimation, for unnecessary interpersonal conflicts.

Back on track upon their return from the beach, the group made a sweep through the tieflings’ encampments on their way to speak to Zevlor. They came across Zorru, who shakingly gave them coordinates to where he’d seen more githyanki warriors over to Lae’zel after the threats she directed at the traumatized tiefling were buffered forcefully by Áine. After Zorru had scurried off, Lae’zel had illustrated to Áine that the last time a subordinate had disobeyed her, she’d supped upon tongue stew that very night. Unmoved, Áine had expressed how nice it was then that she was not Lae’zel’s subordinate. Shadowheart had felt a thrill of victory at seeing that, wondering if perhaps finally Áine was coming to her senses about the gith.

In the face of the tension hanging over the group that could have been cut with one of his daggers, Astarion opted to drop back to the rear of their little gloom parade. Even without the excuse, he didn’t mind the bit of separation—he had a lot to sort through in his mind, not even including the literal worm nesting there. It had all worked in his favor in the end—chivalrous showmanship never truly hurt a performance, now did it?—but the truth was stranger to him than fiction. 

He’d not planned to knock Áine out of the way. He’d just done it. There had been no time to plan, to choreograph, to weigh the options. There had only been time for instinct and reflex response. And, thinking back to the leagues of individuals he’d been made to seduce and lure back to Cazador, he would have never stuck his neck out like that just for the sole purpose of winning over a future victim unless he’d been commanded to. So what was this little plan of his turning into exactly? Was it because it was his scheme and not his old master’s? Did it just feel different because he’d decided of his own accord to manipulate someone this time?

Astarion’s brow creased, red eyes lifting to bore into Áine’s back as she led them through the dusty caverns, between the rows of refugee tents and shop stands. That had to be it, he decided as she was stopped by an old woman, who was trying to give her a healing potion and nattering on about everyone in the Grove being little whiners. Astarion watched Áine’s expressions and the way she held herself. 

His analysis bordered closely on foolishness, he decided. He didn’t want her, he wanted her to want him so she would have a reason to help him, to help him stay alive until he could find a way to remain free of his chains. His tongue ran along the ridges of one of his fangs carefully hidden behind his pursed lips—and perhaps he was mistaking his thirst for lust. That had to be it. The combination of those two desperate drives, for security and sustenance, was making him delusional. They would go away as soon as he fed and as soon as he bedded her so he could feel safe. It wasn’t because he wanted her. 

He firmly believed that he was far too broken to properly want anything. The least he could do in retaliation to what had been done to him was use that brokenness as an advantage.

Áine spent the entirety of their walk to the far side of the caverns where she was told she could find Zevlor trying to think of how to break the news to him. She’d let herself get invested in the thought that she might be able to change things or at least buy time to benefit the tieflings in preparing for their journey, but she’d come out with the same result Zevlor himself had been given to begin with. Her sitdown with Alfira and the fight with the harpies had just helped to stave off the inevitable conversation that would feel like her second major failure of the day. 

The first had been just as indirect as the one aforementioned—that she’d opted for the Grove as their hope for a cure and had come out emptyhanded for it. She logically understood that it wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but she had made the call. At the time, it had felt like the right call. And, had they skipped over meeting with Nettie, she would have wondered if their journey could have ended there for as long as it progressed. Yet, there she was, feeling a bit sore about it all.

That feeling lasted through their conversation with Zevlor, in which she offered her protection much to certain companions’ distaste, but was politely refused. Instead, he suggested that if they could help them by eradicating the root of the problem—whoever was organizing the goblins back at their base in the old Selunite temple—then the refugees might just manage to make it through at least the first leg of their journey. It felt like a significant undertaking, but seeing as she was already intending to bail the Archdruid out of that temple as well, assuming he was still alive, she agreed to try. It did feel like she was racking up a to-do list though that could all turn out to be more loose ends.

It was a hole she was digging for herself, she figured, if that did come to pass. None of them need to stick with me and my harebrained ideas for any longer than they want to. Hells, they might be better off following Lae’zel to a crèche or doing anything differently from what I’m doing.

Lo and behold, as soon as they were outside Zevlor’s chamber and the stone door was sliding shut behind them, Astarion demanded, “So, what, we’re mercenaries now? Not even mercenaries, mercenaries at least get paid!”

“It does make me question the truth of your words when you last said we would seek out my kin, and a crèche beyond that,” Lae’zel said just as pointedly but with fewer theatrics than the pale elf walking alongside her.

“My opinion may not be worth much,” Gale said, “but I think helping them is the right thing to do and I applaud you for agreeing to do it.”

Even Shadowheart was proving skeptical. “So long as tentacles don’t burst from our faces halfway through our heroics, maybe this won’t all be for naught… Then again, maybe it will be.”

“For once, we are in agreement,” Lae’zel commented. 

Áine almost groaned. Surely the world would upend on her if those two were finding common ground exclusively in her ineptitude. 

As the rumbles of unrest continued to brew behind her, Áine finally stopped and turned around, her features so taut from exasperation that she almost looked in pain. “Then go ahead to the crèche or wherever you think is best to fix our, uh, brain issue. Not a single one of you owes me a damn thing,” she said, and both Astarion and Shadowheart experienced a pang of guilt to hear how exhausted she sounded. “I will be going to the goblin camp to see if Halsin is still alive, seek his help if so, and clear the place out in the process to give these people a chance. Why? I don’t know, because I can’t not. I have gray areas in my morality like everyone else, but this is not one of those areas.”

“Now that is a worldview I can endorse.”

Áine frowned, surprised by the new voice, and looked over her shoulder. The Blade of Frontiers, himself, stood in her wake and smiled at her when their eyes met. The renowned protector of the Sword Coast raised his arm and inclined his head in a respectful salute. “Well met, Goblinslayer,” he greeted her with a debonair smile. “Unless you prefer a different name?”

“Áine will do,” she introduced herself, glad for a distraction, but still tense from addressing the group. Or rather addressing everyone in the group but Gale, she supposed. “Wyll, was it?”

Wyll preened under her attention. It made Astarion want to rip his hair out. “It was and is, and he is at your service,” he said with a charming bow. “You were—ugh!”

The tadpoles took over and their minds were slotted together as Áine’s had been in small doses with each member of her group so far. She saw Avernus through Wyll’s eyes, not at first from the deck of the Nautiloid ship, but in pursuit of who he believed to be a devil. Tall and crimson, flames licking her skin, and with one broken horn as her signifier. 

Their minds disconnected and a faint noise of discomfort slipped from Áine’s throat as she felt the parasite in her head settle back into its favorite spot. “So you’re infected too,” she observed, following up her statement with a question. “Who was that?”

Wyll rolled his head against his neck, physically shaking off his own discomfort. “You saw,” he gritted, shuddering as he explained, “Karlach. A devil I’ve been charged to hunt down and take back to Avernus before she commits any more atrocities against innocent people.” Wyll nodded toward Áine. “A spot of morality we seem to have in common.”

There was something in Wyll’s expression or his tone that made Áine’s belief in his words waver. A desperation that underlaid the duty. He wasn’t just doing this particular task out of the kindness of his heart. There was something else there, too. “So it seems,” she agreed, shelving her hunch for the time being. 

“Listen,” Wyll began, his tone aiming to sound thoughtful. Astarion bristled, already knowing what was coming. Because of course it was. “I also need to get this infernal thing out of my skull. And I would be more than happy to assist in helping these poor refugees find safety in their course to Baldur’s Gate. Karlach remains my priority, but as for the rest… Well, if you’ll have me, I would be honored to join your cause.”

Áine smiled at Wyll. “You are more than welcome for as long as you’d like.”

“Excellent,” Wyll said, clearly quite pleased. “Lead on then, my lady.”

Áine heard a loud scoff from behind her that could’ve only come from Astarion. She sighed inwardly and continued to lead the way out of the Grove, only slowing momentarily when Wyll stepped off the path to grab a rucksack with his travel implements. She felt the pale elf in question behind her before she saw him in her periphery and took the opportunity to ask him in a lowered tone, “What’s the problem?”

“Problem?” he repeated and his tone was so steeped in sarcasm, it told Áine all she needed to know about the incoming conversation. “What problem would there be? The Blade of Frontiers is joining us on our way! We’re essentially saved.”

Áine’s mind traced back to the goblin fight earlier on, outside the gate. Back to the sour look that had crossed Astarion’s face when he’d thought no one was looking, when she’d been momentarily swept into Shadowheart’s enthusiasm at the swashbuckling swordsman arriving on the scene. “Are you jealous?” she asked, point-blank.

Astarion laughed once forcefully. “Of him?” he sneered. “Tell me, darling, whyever should I be?”

Her jaw clenched. “You tell me,” she shot back, keeping her voice lowered as the group began walking again. She checked to see that the others were keeping Wyll occupied before turning her attention back to Astarion. She didn’t want their newest recruit to feel uncomfortable at already being discussed. 

When she met Astarion’s eyes again, they were crimson fire. She’d really gotten to him with her question apparently, but there was no turning back now. “Well?” she pressed.

“He has nothing for me to envy,” he said, his tone something caustic forced to sound smooth. The acid was still there, but it was beneath a carefully curated surface of false bravado. She could hear the two layers existing together and separately at once. They’d reached the front gate and stopped their walking to wait for it to be raised.

“It hasn’t just been Wyll though, has it?” Áine dug in and Astarion physically recoiled from her probing when she hit too close to home. “It’s been Gale, too. It’s even been Shadowheart and Lae’zel at times. Maybe me, too, and I just haven’t noticed. Maybe I can help put it to rest if something's bothering you.”

“You are in no position to help me with anything!” he snapped at her, his tone rising, and that finally snagged the others’ attention. “What could you possibly offer me?”

Áine’s hackles rose and she snapped back, “My friendship for one thing, but I don’t know if you’d even know what to do with it!” 

She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips, but there wasn’t a thing she could do to take them back. Áine winced and let her head fall forward against her hand, her thumb and middle finger pressing into her temples. She inhaled deeply and then exhaled as she heard the gate begin to rumble and lift beside her. 

“Feel better?” she heard him growl above her head.

“Of course not,” she murmured, removing her hand from her face and meeting his eyes again. “That was out of line. I’m sorry.”

Astarion seemed more taken aback by her apology than the words that had led to the apology in the first place. Expression guarded, he said, “And if you happened to be correct?”

“Then I’m even more out of line for saying it,” Áine replied. “And I apologize twice over.”

The pale elf measured her with a look, his jaw still clenched and his eyes still disproportionately wary in her estimation. They were just having a bit of a spat, but he’d tensed as if… 

Oh.

Something began to slowly click into place in the back of her mind, something she recognized because she’d done it too. There was absolutely nothing to support the thought that had entered her mind, it was pure intuition at best. But it took the wind near-fully out of her sails.

“Well?” he asked her, seeming impatient for an answer to a question she’d been too far away to hear.

“Sorry?” she asked, blinking away her thoughts.

“I asked if I’m dismissed,” he repeated, his voice lowered again.

Áine stared at him dumbly for a few seconds before clarifying, “...From this conversation, or…?

“From the party,” he corrected her.

“Of course not,” Áine said, and it was her turn to be taken aback. “Not only would that be a huge overreaction on my part, but I’m in no position to even do that.”

“Of course you are,” Astarion said, his shoulders relaxing a little now that his newly conjured fears of being on his own in this again were put to rest. “Isn’t that well within a party leader’s rights?”

Áine smiled and shook her head. “I wouldn’t know,” she admitted as they stepped out into the forest again, the others trailing at a distance to give them their space but following them out into the open. “Maybe a good party leader. But, not only am I just trying to figure all this out as I go, we’re all in the same predicament too. We’re all infected. We’re all a bit lost. And far be it from me to say who should stay or go.” 

Her earlier hunch bubbled back up and she leveled a serious look at him, waiting until he met her eyes. “Far be it from anyone to tell you what to do unless you give them your consent to do so.”

Astarion’s expression became a familiar kind of withdrawn for only seconds before he threw a flippant hand and scoffed, “I’d like to see anyone try. I suppose I could grace you scrappy bunch with my presence a little while longer, but only because you insisted, dearest.”

Áine rolled her eyes and dropped the conversation, letting him have his mask back. To the group as a whole, she raised her voice and said, “Same campsite as last night. Tomorrow anyone who wants to travel with me to the goblin camp may do so. No hard feelings regardless.”

“What about bard feelings?” Gale asked, earning a collective groan.

“Those are mine, you can’t have those,” Áine bantered back.

Astarion went through the external motions of interacting with the group as he kept in step at Áine’s side, but he was internally flummoxed. She saw more than he wanted her to, more than he’d given her credit for so far. It made him feel entirely too vulnerable and he hated it. 

Yet, despite laying him more bare than even she could realize by telling him that he couldn’t be ordered about, she’d done exactly that—told him that she had no power over him. That no one did. And while she was technically wrong about that so long as Cazador lived, she was the first.

Not only that, he was still spinning over how swiftly she’d apologized to him for essentially stating a fact about him as a person. He didn’t know how to have friends—he’d had friends once, in his other life, he was sure, but he had next to no recollection of that past now. Hundreds of years of pain and revulsion and torture and manipulation and violation and rot had scorched that barely trodden earth long ago. But she’d said that she still had no right to say that to him, even if it were true. 

It took all of his attention to keep the pearly sneer on his face from becoming a frown in tandem with his thoughts because that implied a sense of…respect. Respect for him?

They reached the campsite tucked back within the trees past the Grove and he skulked back to his tent, setting down a few trinkets he’d pilfered during their visit near his bedroll. He picked up the book he’d been parsing through these past few nights, skimming the contents at best when he wasn’t purely using it as a distraction or as a ploy to look like he wasn’t paying attention to camp conversations he was most definitely paying attention to. Truthfully though, he’d yet to hear anything of note—weirdos though they all may be, they were also quite agonizingly normal too.

How did she know?

Astarion shook off the thought with a vengeance. It didn’t matter how whatever inkling she’d had to say the things she’d said to him had slipped in. He simply had to be more careful. Before he’d fully let go of his wayward thoughts, however, he let her words wash over him one more time. “Far be it from anyone to tell you what to do unless you give them your consent to do so.” 

He scoffed softly down at the pages his eyes devoured but didn’t read. Consent. Now that was a foreign concept. 

And suddenly he was finding himself wishing she’d said every horrible thing she could have said to him instead of that singular necessary thing, proved herself revolting in every way she’d proven herself striking, and done just one thing he couldn’t forgive her for. All the easier it would’ve been to lie to her and break her heart, to tear out her throat as a snack in the midnight hours and go on as if nothing had happened. 

Now though? Now he was feeling guilt begin to gnaw prematurely at his dead, black heart. No, now he’d feel at least a little sorry for whatever became of her after he got his fangs in her, proverbial or otherwise.

The rest of the group had set about their evening, too, while the pale elf’s swirling thoughts consumed him over his literature. Áine got to work getting Wyll set up with a tent and left him to his devices so she could assist with dinner prep, only to be shooed away by Gale, who had started insisting on having the run of the “kitchen” at all their mealtimes. It wasn’t long before the sun had set fully and the usual dinner attendees plus their newest member gathered around the fire and enjoyed the dinner of soup and bread that Gale had prepared. 

The one significant upside of visiting the Grove aside from the obvious had been the rations they were able to procure, both freely and for meager sums of gold. The taste of fresh bread had never brought tears to Áine’s eyes, but she was no longer sure it wouldn’t. Pillowy and warm from the broth it was dipped in, it positively melted on her tongue and suddenly their situation didn’t feel so rotten for one shining moment. 

Astarion maintained his distance during dinnertime, which was normal. Áine didn’t think he was upset with her, although he had every right to be with the way she’d handled herself, and she was grateful for the grace he was showing her. Where that grace came from though, she hadn’t a clue. Maybe he was just biding his time until he could bury his daggers in her stomach while the others slept. She smiled and shook her head at her fretting. Until she had something tangible to worry over, there was no point in adding another point of anxiety to her already full list of concerns. All that aside, she didn’t think he’d be the one to try to kill her in the dead of night out of everyone there. Shadowheart was a more likely suspect for something like that.

Case in point, their other companion often absent at meals had just sat down beside Áine and Shadowheart’s disgust showed plainly on her face. Lae’zel settled in by the fire, returning to her meal as soon as she’d wordlessly joined them and found a spot for herself. Wyll and Gale were too immersed in their conversation—or quite good at seeming so—to notice. Lae’zel met Áine’s eyes and shifted uncomfortably. “Am I unwelcome?”

“Not at all,” Áine said without hesitation. When Lae’zel gave her the faintest hint of a smile in return and bowed her head to continue eating, Áine’s gaze flickered up to meet Shadowheart’s over the top of Lae’zel’s hair. Shadowheart gave her a look of pure exasperation, which Áine met with just a shake of her head. “Talk later,” she mouthed to the cleric. “ ‘Til then, behave.” 

Shadowheart’s jaw clenched, but she turned away from both of them and resumed her supper, finding a welcome distraction in joining Wyll’s animated conversation with Gale as the two then three reminisced about Baldur’s Gate. The night eventually wound down, particularly after the nightcap of a glass of ithbank had been suggested. Between the day they’d all had and the depressive effects of the wine, a rowdy dinner roundtable had quieted into something barely a chitchat that only carried on as long as it outweighed the call of a warm bedroll.

“So are there any nighttime ditties available on request from our resident bard?” Wyll asked as he finished his goblet of wine, smiling warmly toward Áine. Just Wyll, Gale, and Shadowheart remained fireside, Lae’zel having retreated to her tent again after she’d finished eating, and Astarion… 

Áine thought she heard something like a scoff come from the direction of Astarion’s tent, but she tried not to think on it too much lest she’d start to laugh and then have to explain herself. 

“I’m not particularly consistent at being an actual bard in a musical sense,” she admitted. “I, uh, lost my flute the first day we all banded together, and the lyre I had got broken today amidst fighting some harpies. And even before that I only contributed some light strumming anyway.”

“It was very nice strumming,” Shadowheart teasingly reaffirmed her. “And you got us out of a very tight spot with those harpies today, so I would say you’ve more than contributed in a bardic sense.”

“Only a shame the lyre fell in battle,” Gale mused. “Could do with a tune to send off the night.”

Amused they would even miss what little she’d provided thus far, Áine laughed out loud. “Right. If you’re somehow not too triggered by singing after today’s scrap with those feathered freaks, I will sing you all to sleep tonight,” she offered, holding up a finger when her present companions’ eyes lit up, “but only after you’re all tucked in.”

“All the things I’ve already seen you do and accomplish,” Wyll mused, “and the thing you’re shy about is singing in front of others? As a bard?” 

From the bedroll inside his dark tent, Astarion’s gaze flickered toward his closed tent flaps, listening as the focus of an otherwise uninteresting conversation to eavesdrop on pulled back to their bard and became interesting again.

Áine rolled her eyes, playing into it. “Everyone has their things, I only ask you to respect mine,” she laughed. When no one moved, she waved them off. “I mean it. Shoo!”

“Will you also tuck us in?” Shadowheart asked cheekily before being ushered away from the fire by their other two present companions who were all too eager to follow directions. Especially when the reasoning and the person behind said reasoning was so endearing. 

Astarion rolled his eyes to himself as he listened to them all, tittering on like schoolchildren over the shiny new toy. The only difference was that they were all grown adults and they wanted to fuck the shiny new toy more than play nicely with it. Admittedly, so did he, but at least he had ulterior motives. Their yearning was simply embarrassing.

Eventually, the camp sounds outside stilled completely, the crackling fire all that was exempt from the stretched silence. For a moment, Astarion wondered if she’d simply tricked them all into going to bed by throwing out the false promise of a performance, an idea that made his lips twitch with sly mirth. 

He was wrong about her again, however, and only endured the silence for seconds longer before a quiet, ethereal voice rose from the direction of the fire, building with every lyric sung until he no longer strained to hear her words.

“Lay down your head, and I’ll sing you a lullaby

Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay

And I’ll sing you to sleep, and I’ll sing you tomorrow

Bless you with love for the road that you go…”

There was magic woven into them—the words that left her lips. Actual magic or not, he wasn’t entirely sure, but her voice felt magical. How she was embarrassed by doing this in any context baffled him beyond compare. It was no wonder she’d suggested that after their encounter with the harpies earlier that day perhaps they may be lullaby-averse. She sounded just as enchanting as they had but without the deadly lure, without all the strings attached. 

While he didn’t remember much about being under the harpy songstress’s spell, he did remember the pull. It was minuscule in comparison to what Cazador’s will, for example, had been able to do to him, but had been enough for him to have needed Áine’s intervention to clear his head. That had felt like a numbing agent on his mental clarity. Whatever this was… Well, his mind had never felt clearer. 

“May you sail fair to the far fields of fortune

With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet 

And may you need never to banish misfortune

May you find kindness in all that you meet

May there always be angels to watch over you,

To guide you each step of the way

To guard you and keep you safe from all harm…

Loo-li loo-li lai-lay…”

Magic or no, reverie felt much more achievable than it had in…well, ages. When he thought back to the last time he’d truly felt at rest, he was suddenly reaching back weeks, months, years into centuries until he didn’t have memories left to traverse. He was sure he’d slept peacefully in his youth, before Cazador, when he was just a high elf fresh out of his law schooling, his entire beautiful life ahead of him. He bet he’d slept as soundly as can be after he passed his last exams for the board, maybe felt accomplished, maybe just felt relieved, or maybe was too tired to feel any type of way. But the trouble was, he didn’t remember any of that. It was all gone. He’d taken it all.

Astarion drew in a deep breath and it shuddered in his chest. More had died than his soul that day in the streets, under the dirt, slumped at Cazador’s feet as he stood waiting for his new spawn to surface in the graveyard. He’d been dying every day since.  

Except maybe tonight. Perhaps tonight he could secure for himself. Just for himself. So he shifted his body just slightly until his fingertips could brush the canvas of the tent flaps, caught the corner deftly between them, and pulled it back just enough to look at the half-elf still curled up by the fire, her back to his tent as she continued to croon her lullaby and swaying gently as she sang.

“May you bring love and may you bring happiness,

Be loved in return ‘til the end of your days

Now fall off to sleep, I’m not meaning to keep you,

I’ll just sit for a while and sing loo-li lai-lay…”

Astarion withdrew his hand and let the tent flap fall closed again, swallowed once more by the dark. The feelings that had stirred in him while he watched her, even for just those few seconds, were thrilling and frightening. He recoiled from them. They’d not help him at all to achieve what he needed to. If anything, even without fully knowing what they were, he knew they’d thwart him. 

Instead of entertaining them further, he lay on his back and closed his eyes, his index fingers curled to meet his thumbs in a gesture of mindfulness that felt as natural as breathing. This, this reverie, was something he’d retained, something he’d been able to keep, despite everything. And the carrying lilt of the song outside wrapped him up like a warm embrace and eased him down, helping him return to it. Helping him return to himself.

Next chapter: Chapter 4, "Thirsty"

[scrollypoly]

hi! for the past month i’ve been seeing people say BEN is a child and i think that part of it is linked to the fact that they think of Benjamin Lawman being BEN? but it’s so annoying to read these type of stuff because i understand not everyone read the whole arg story but stop spreading things that aren’t true </3 it’s such an interesting story too! another note do you prefer BEN’s canon or fanon design? :3 i love both but his canon design is so nostalgic i can’t let it go at all omg!! i’ve also been wondering, do you think Ben’s avatar was the statue? i was thinking about what if BEN took over it early on, before Benjamin did making BEN inhabiting it since the start?

Sorry this was such a ramble i practically make no sense omg but i need to talk about my man and nobody Gets It </3

"I need to talk about my man and nobody Gets It" LITERALLY SAME OMG

Ok this is going under a cut becus . . . Its ben and BEN and if u didnt know i am Obnoxious about these two. Im gonna try to keep it organized a bit, so ill talk about the canon stuff first and then ill talk my personal headcanons and my fic so le's go!

In terms of the age and child thing, yeah i 100% believe you are correct. Ive been p open on my stance with the whole "is ben a child?" thing, and i think a lot of the heat with it comes down to current fandom purity culture and the pro/anti thing. So, lemme try to like. Boil down a complicated situation into smth easy to read. ahem

Ben Lawman and BEN are completely different entities guys, and for those that do not know the arg story, the Ben you know is not human nor a child.

You know BEN, BEN is the one in the story who terrorizes jadusable and spreads himself on the internet as a virus. That BEN is a program, a mess of code, an AI, however you want to interpret it. Personally i interpret it as a series of protocols running in a machine, like a self learning AI, but ive seen lots of cool interpretations of BEN. So . . . What does BEN specifically? Its an anagram for the Behavioral Event Network. If you dont wanna call it BEN cuz it gets confusing with actual kid Ben, do what i do. I call mine Evie :) ive seen some call it Netty, my bf calls his two izzi and clever (@benilos btw hes also got crazy ben stuff). Just go ham! Have fun! Remember when fandoms were about having fun and not accusing each other of pedo shit and call each other horrible things for just writing black-to-grey characters and stories??

Anyways ive gone off in enough peoples tags like this, for those that dont know the canon dont be spouting the age discourse. You look stupid as hell. And for those that are gonna spout it, please dont cherry pick through the canon. Use both characters, use the other moon children, actually please do because I want more rosa content so bad, im down so bad :'(

Or just. Heres a thought. If someone has him as an adult or writes him in adult situations, maybe dont assume that they interpret him as a kid and call the writer a pedo? (Literally has happened to me, yall are fucking weird)

Plug for the jadusable wiki with all the canon lore:

https://jadusable.withinhubris.com/main_page

Okay now my stuff 🥰

Yes i use more of the canon design and heavily use the canon story, i participated in arc 3 of the arg and it left deep grooves in my brain, i can never go back to fanon Ben. I say, as i put a more fanon appearance on my Ben 🤭

My Evie is full canon design, green hair, red eyes, creepy ass grin. I actually based it very heavily on my desktop wallpaper, which we actually figured out was a picture of @hauntedtotem (also amazing ben artist plz check them out) that they edited and posted. Sorry friend, it looked way too cool, ig youre in my fic canon now 🙇

And my Ben Lawman bleaches his hair and goes from the canon Ben to fanon Ben because of it. Hes got the pale pretty green eyes and glasses and hes a total nerd and i smooch him on the daily so he knows hes loved ♡

These is the ref pic i made for the two of them. So yeah! Kinda both!

As for bens situation in the actual arg, yes i do think he was in the elegy statue, we actually do see him for the first time in the arg buried in the games code and trapped in that statue. I do think he was in there from the beginning, i personally think BEN was not limited to the models it could inhabit. Personally i would place it as skull kid and hms, but it also feels disingenuous to me to say it was in one model the whole first arc.

The arg events do happen in my canon, before my fic (like right before, it picks up after the arg left off technically), but the events are skewed a bit because i had a hard time deciphering what happened and i wanted my fic timeline to fit more with the characters i had made. Cuz my evie isnt as chaotic evil as canon BEN, its very logical and has a path of logic and reason you can follow for every action it does. It was also originally meant to be very pleasant and corteous and beneficial to the people it housed so, yes its pretty different from canon.

Ill do a quick run through of the arg events in my personal headcanon and fic here.

Kelbris starts coding BEN (Evie) for the Eternity Project. Initially, Evie was meant to be an afterlife director. People that died would be digitized into code that would be moved into Evie's servers, where it would keep them happy and occupied as the Behavioral Event Network (notice and log behavior, create events for residents). Like a community organizer kind of, think the Good Place.

While Evie is in development, Ben Rosa and Matt are friends and have yet to join the cult. Rosa and Matt are siblings, and Ben is the kid who lives catty corner on the street. They walk to school together and play at recess and all that jazz.

Kelbris quickly learns that the Eternity Project isn't as goody two-shoes as he thought. This was in like, the 90s, before digital corporations were really established. After seeing the greed and corruption in the company, he goes rogue, takes the source code for Evie, and jumps ship. He keeps working on Evie at home, anthropomorphizing it and kind of seeing it like the son he never had. This is where it actually gets the name BEN, as thats what Kel calls it. He also begins working on a body for it, so it can live independently. Its light, cuz Kels old, made of crystalline structures and hollow steel beams. A hard light projection would make its appearance.

Since Kel has basically locked himself up in his house and isolated working on Evie, he goes a leetle bit crazy. He has hallucinations of his deceased wife (you know he was doing all this just to give her a good home, you KNOW IT) and eventually starts writing kind of poetry, kind of none-minded rambles about her in a forum online. He gets a following, some of which that interpret these divine words as a goddess, one Kel has called Luna. The Moon Children start to form as Evie finishes development.

Matt sees this literature and starts talking about how this Goddess could save them like it saved the man online, whos username is only Father. He gets sucked into the cult and drags Ben and Rosa with him. Ben doesn't see the harm and joins pretty easily with his best friend, but Rosa is the older sibling and sees the red flags and is more resistant to joining.

As Kelbris finishes Evie, he wakes it up for the first time and says hello to the son he made from scratch. Evie is bright, curious and naive like a child, but heavily knowledgeable about its protocols and the information it knows about the world. Kelbris tests its function by killing himself, and ascends into the code, finishing off the hardware by becoming its firewall. Evie is alone for many years.

The abuse Ben's father slings onto his mother is slowly being directed towards him as he gets older. Ben is not the "good little girl" his father sees him as, and his mother does all she can to protect them both. Matt and Rosa constantly refuge him, and Matt specifically is constantly being a guard dog for him. If he wasn't just 13, he'd probably go at Ben's dad himself.

Because of his homelife and the conflict he has with himself, Ben takes the first ascension. He thinks when he drowns himself, he will meet Luna and she will give him another life free of pain and fear and full of happiness and freedom. Instead, he dies a cold, dark death, and wakes up in the white endless void of the Event Network.

Evie has not known another living human since Kelbris, but it does know its protocols to support and keep the deceased happy. It makes fast friends with Ben, devoting itself to him. Ben actually finally takes the name "Ben" from it. Together they recreate the inside of Evie's hivemind into their own paradise.

Slowly the other Moon Children ascend. First Matt, wracked with guilt for what happened to Ben. Then Nekko, from a different branch of the cult. These three figured out that the Moon Children cult was all a farce, and that what Kelbris had started, the Eternity Project had found and twisted. Next to ascend was Dusk, then Insidiae, and finally Rosa.

This all leads into the first arc, shortly after Rosa ascended, Evie in the outisde world stumbled upon the Operator. The Operator attacks it and seals its coding into the game that it carried, a personal item of Ben's. The game eventually finds it's way to a garage sale, and Alex picks it up.

Evie does not like Alex. Matt does not like Evie. Matt gets Evie to lash out at Alex for prodding into its code, its too naive to think that Matt would want to see it or any of them hurt. When Alex stumbles upon the Father, he awakens and swallows Alex down into the game. After his disappearance, the game gets picked up and passed around again.

Because of Alex's actions, at least Evie can now branch out a bit from the game. Though it doesnt "escape" into the internet, it learns that it can now access it and uses that freedom to try and steer the game around into places it wants.

Matt gets fed up with Evie. The fact that its the leader, how close it is with Ben, he just doesn't agree with it. So much so, in fact, that he tries to kill it. Cue arc 3 events, Sarah picks up the game in the aftermath of this. Evie is traumatized from the events and snaps a bit, locks everyone down into code or immovable models and tries to hunt Matt down. It goes rouge, and because of this, the Father wakes up.

Sarah's actions in arc 3 eventually hard reset the game. Matt gets sealed away, the Father also takes Sarah, and Evie gets reset as well, though its less like a clean slate and more like snapping back awake. Its personality changes and it has major trust issues. Its more muted, hyper observant of everything around it, and murderously overprotective of the Moon Children it keeps within itself.

And this leads into my fic 🤗

I have some doodles of my other Moon Children, but not all of them unfortunately. Cant figure out how tf i want Insidiae to look 🤭 Plz dont judge my constantly shifting art style 🙏🙏

Dusk is bigender btw, i gotta put a little more trans rep in there lol

I think ill stop here, this is already a long ass post. But thank you for sending this, as you can see, i am Perfectly Normal about this arg ( ;) ) and can be trusted with information about it

[fuckitwebhaal]

The Dark Urge (2)

A continuation of my playthrough as Kyr Farwhisper - The Dark Urge. Usual warnings apply: anything below the READ MORE will have SPOILERS and content warnings for gore and violence.

I last left off discussing how some of the companions were very nonchalant in regards to Kyr's missing memories--and it's a good point made that most have bigger problems in mind! With Gale, Astarion, and Shadowheart as most people's initial party, that first step towards the Grove is filled with everyone's minds wondering how their preexisting circumstances will hold up against the new threat of the mindflayer tadpole.

Lae'zel and Wyll, once you recruit them, are much of the same mind about the gap in your memory (though Lae'zel suspects it has something to do with ceremorphosis, and recommends that you be watched more closely, if that is the case). As for the Dark Urge itself, all seems to be quiet up until the point you are asked to speak to the druid Kagha, and perhaps rescue the captive tiefling girl, Arabella.

Clearly, as narrated, Kyr recognizes the snake and the effects of its poison--and even meditated briefly on the urge enough to consider that he is at odds with himself on how to act upon it. I do find it interesting that it is the mind wanting the child to come to harm, and not the heart--the heart is the resistance, it seems. Not the usual arrangement seen on the logical/emotional symbolism, especially in regards to someone being tainted or corrupted, but I think it's fun.

There was an option to "flick your eyes to indicate to the girl to run" -- no doubt doing so would cause the snake to strike and the child to die. I decided not to even entertain that route in a reloaded save. I doubt you would receive disapproval for it (they would have to prove you knew the snake would strike the girl) but I personally tend to draw the line at harming children in any game.

In Nettie's office, Kyr is able to approach the injured bluejay after she has cast the healing magic upon it. He is presented with one of two options.

Tear the wings off of the bird.

2. Leave.

Kyr chose to leave, but it wasn't an immediate disengagement from the encounter; he stepped back with a worried and almost horrified expression, as though aware of the possibility of temptation. Your conversation with Nettie afterwards details that she can't fathom what more than a mind-flayer tadpole is wrong with you, and again instructs you to find Halsin.

Exiting the Druid quarters (after Kyr stole the evidential letter from Kagha's chest) led him to the altercation atop the path between the tieflings and the imprisoned goblin. I decided to indulge the Dark Urge a little bit here, as it didn't seem as consequential as the other times it had been presented to me.

It did result in the death of Sazza, purely by choice of inaction, except this inaction comes from a point of relish. Kyr sits with it for a time, and later, he's horrified. It doesn't help that after you give in to a slight Urge here and there, Astarion does always have something to add--barring a slight approval, of course.

And so ends Kyr's time at the Grove, for now. He heads out to decide which of the many threads to pull at first--the creche, Halsin, or the letter of Kagha's guilt?

Part 1 | Part 2

[fuckmeyer]

My favorite thing about the Jasper/Maria ship, dynamic, or whatever is how complicated and mysterious they are, like we don’t know much about them but what we DO know speaks to something deeper going on that isn’t quite explored. Like they make each other worse but they also make each other BETTER! It’s insane to think about really. Everyone’s usually like “they make each other worse!” but you’re like the only person to point out just how much they also make each other better and your points are so solid it got me thinking!

Like it’s honestly crazy to think about how they’re both in such bad circumstances and they’ve done bad things together; but there’s also the fact that they’re so tender and forgiving towards each other, how much they’ve learned from each other (especially from Confederate!Jasper’s side considering he had a LOT to learn/unlearn), and how they made each other stronger, smarter, etc.. while being from two completely different worlds yet they met and bonded through a similar core experience: War.

They became winners together after having lost so much before and they both chose each other naturally. Jasper could have chosen to follow Lucy or Nettie at any time but he chose Maria and he knew from the moment he met them that she was the special one, the leader. “It was immediately clear that the brunette was somehow in charge of the others. If they'd been military, I would have said that she outranked them.”

Maria was able to pick apart his compelling nature and knew he would be special/useful to her too, that’s why she chose to keep him and changed him herself bc one of the others said they were more likely to kill him. She probably didn’t expect to develop feelings for him later down the line but that’s for another conversation lol. They met by chance and they chose each other. They saw something.

I think both characters know this deep down and that’s why they still have some leftover feelings for each other. To me it’s the only thing that explains their out-of-character behavior towards each other. Like come on there’s no way Jasper is just thinking and talking about Maria like that if she didn’t still have an impact on him and there’s no way Maria’s just randomly thinking of him enough to want to find and visit him if he didn’t have some sort of impact on her too.

That speaks to so much potential between them. If they were so powerful and successful and hung-up on each other in the unfortunate situations they were in, imagine how powerful and strong they’d have been if they were in better circumstances. It gives me such a “right person, wrong time” feeling with them. Idk just my thoughts. You seem like the only person I can share these with lol.

- same anon btw

ANON it's wonderful to see you in my inbox again!!! you know i'm always here for Loving María Hours 🥰

you're right, there's so much deeper shit going on between Jasper & María, it's kinda crazy that all these other characters/ships get so much more attention when Jasper/María literally have a built-in story! (no hate to those who create content on minor characters ofc — we're all out here doing the lord's work LMAO)

you really hit it on the head. like the fact that their story is so "evil" and their characters are so "bad" speaks to the gentleness and goodness that obviously came out of their relationship considering Jasper is now a vegetarian Cullen freak. & the idea that the external conflict (war) is used as a vehicle AND as a symbol for their own internal conflicts & the thematic discussion at hand?!?!?! THE STORY 👏 WRITES👏 ITSELF👏👏👏

bro ofc Jasper followed María!! bad bitches only. & at the end of it all Lucy & Nettie AINT SHIT! they betrayed their covenmate! smh. tbh it spoke volumes that she had no problem killing them YET took so long (& ultimately did not) kill Jasper. girl can sniff betrayal from a mile away & even though she let the paranoia get the best of her, in the end she didn't let it control her 😇 it's not a perfect cutesy HEA, but dammit if it's not GROWTH

only semi-related, but the fact that Jasper mentions she had a good judge of character, and the fact that she seemed to look specifically for humans who would be gifted/powerful, makes me wonder if she didn't have some sort of gift herself. i like to think that Nettie & Lucy didn't betray her bc of something she did but rather bc they simply couldn't cope with the way María always chose Jasper & her country above all. María's gift is that she sees the good & the strength & value in people. even when they don't see it in themselves. war is simply not a good medium for people to reach their full potential...& once María draws it out of them, they discover want more for themselves than what death & violence can give them. in Nettie & Lucy's case, they lash out bc they assume they will never live up to María's vision. in Jasper's case, he defects so he can live up to the person she sees in him ❤️ María's weakness is she gets so focused on her mission she gets tunnel vision, so these are all seen to her as betrayals

but i imagine María realizes this down the road & works on healing herself instead of her country. obviously the Southern Wars haven't gotten out of control, & wtf does Jasper know about the South's situation after his 150-year absence? maybe the fact that she hasn't gotten herself in trouble lets him know that she's more focused these days on looking out for herself, finding potential within instead of working in vain to fix something that can realistically never be repaired in the way she always dreamed. & that's ok :)

all he knows is she's got a softer side & that he's rooting for her on her own journey to healing, & he will always wish her well 😌

TLDR TRUE TRUE, ANON. right person, wrong time.

all hail María ❤️

[emerysarchive]

Genuinely I just have to write these headcanons out for the sake of my sanity XD

I thought I could structure it, but as always I just end up rambling and this is more from my Tav p.o.v than Gale's.

Tav is named Maeve (she/her) a wood half-elf abjuration wizard (with 1 level in cleric). I have a post about the specific headcanons for her.

Since Bg3 has no artificers I settled for the guild artisan background. She's crafty and no layer of the Abyss has ever seen this much anxiety stored in a single half-elf. She is trying her best and at the end of the journey happened to have some gray hairs already showing.

Be wary of spoilers, especially for act II and the occasional sarcastic/sassy remark (and all grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language and this is only loosely edited)

(Some events are out of order is what I mean...mostly)

CW: anxiety/panic attacks, suggestive content (at the end of act II...how surprising)

Edit: Ok as I'm writing this, it feels like a bullet pointed fanfiction XD.

Get ready for ✨ organised chaos ✨.

Act I

• Maeve never saw herself as a leader, until she was unceremoniously thrown into the position.

• Meeting Shadowheart after the crash she assumed it's going to be a team effort until they found more allies. She realized that in order for this to work there has to be someone to organise everyone otherwise it's going to be chaos.

• With two wizards in a party she knew that she will have put all of her alchemy knowledge to use. Those scrolls don't come cheap after all so they need to be resourceful.

• She was all too relieved when Gale offered to cook for the camp.

• "I assumed your left eye wasn't twitching because of the unwelcomed guest in our heads."

• Early on it became a habit for Gale to cook while she was nearby making potions, elixirs and coatings with the occasional bomb thrown in the mix.

• Then she learned there's an actual, magical bomb in Gale's chest. The kneeling surprised her more than that revelation.

• This innate curiosity and immediate acceptance took Gale by surprise. He thought she would cast him out of the camp however he was greeted with assurances and the promise that she will help him with the orb.

• Maeve is familiar with wizard arrogance so having Gale around made her feel like she's back at the academy among her peers...just in a more life threatening environment.

• This wasn’t exactly what she meant when she wished to go on a adventure after graduating a couple of years ago.

• She has heard many wizards wax poetic about their life goals, but most of them only end up sounding like shallow, pompous assholes (Honestly with any topic).

• Gale was in that category until she got to know him and admit to herself that she has never met anyone with so much genuine love and passion for magic.

• Magic isn't just a tool, it's an art form.

• With a new outlook she wanted to get to know Gale of Waterdeep. She already had heard about him, but wasn't ever interested to know anything further. Now she had the chance to personally get to know him.

• The second she learned he liked to play lanceboard she underwent a side project to make him one out of wood. It was nice to make something for a friend for once and not just because they needed to survive.

• Speaking about that, thanks to her dad she had always been careful about not accidentally poisoning herself when it came to suspicious plants. That streak of luck ended when Nettie cut her with maybe the only poisonous plant she didn’t recognise.

• Gale's reaction was sweet, but the underlying subtext made her worried (there can be only one person willing to sacrifice everything for everyone).

• When they saw the goblin prisoner and the tiefling aiming the crossbow at her. Maeve stepped between without question, knowing that the bolt will bounce harmlessly off of her arcane ward. The tiefling woman didn't know though, but Gale did and even then he couldn’t help but admire her courage.

• Many quiet evenings with each other as company (also the occasional story times), as well as dangerous fights later new feelings started to arise when around Gale. She hadn’t had a crush in a very long time and knowing their situation this was rather unexpected.

• On Gale's side he hadn’t met anyone who goes starry eyed at ancient artifacts or historic places. Especially the cursed kind.

• Also her excitement about finding new potion recipes as well as plants have never been more endearing.

• Her keen focus on her work made him hard not to steal all to many glances towards her when he was reading or cooking.

• She always had her hair braided, in a ponytail or mix of both so the times she let's her brown hair loose (the red highlights were starting to fade) made something stir in his chest that wasn't the orb for once.

• When she's doing alchemy some rogue strands of hair tend to caress her face that he wants to gently brush aside...

• One night she found him staring at the minor illusion of Mystra. While it was strange how she felt when he talked about her, she could understand for a wizard to be fascinated of a diety who is magic itself. What she didn’t understand were her own feelings. Every other wizard worships Mystra or has some kind of token of hers. But Gale had a rather person first hand experience. Was it truly jealousy?

• When asked to experience this raw feeling of magic, poetry and beauty she couldn’t deny it, but what she could, for the moment, were the butterflies when he walked past her so he could teach her the right incantation and somatic components to channel the Weave.

• With a precision of a surgeon she copied his movements. The sudden rush made her pleasantly surprised. Next he asked the concept of harmony and she thought of her family, only for purple light to spark and then an aurora surrounded them.

• Another rush of emotions went through her as she accidentally touched his hand when she stepped back.

"You did it. You're channeling the Weave. How does it feel?"

It was magical. Sensual even. The connection...the intimacy. She knew this is a risk, but it was hard not to convey her desire. A romantic walk on a beach, their hands in each others as they walk and admire the celestial canvas.

She would have assumed it was just her embarrassment rushing through this connection, until she felt elation and that certainly wasn't hers until Gale spoke.

"Sorry. I wasn’t expecting...but it is a pleasant image to be sure. Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome."

• Well at least she won't have to die tonight.

• At the tiefling party though she was blindsided when some of her companions expressed their desires to spend the night with her...she even had to ask Lae'zel if she's asking what Maeve thought she's asking. Apparently treating someone like an equal and a person might send off the wrong message to someone who is deeply traumatised or had been brainwashed....or both.

• At least Karlach and Wyll didn't misread the signals.

• She approached Gale last only because of the idea of doing that made her feel nervous. He had assured her that day after that he meant what he said, but still. The nerves went away when he spoke of Tara, his tressym (not a cat) and then the loneliness of being in his tower for a year.

• It was heartwarming to hear she reminded him of someone very important to him. She would want nothing more to see her own family, even just for a moment.

• To lighten the mood she joked she's actually a nymph in disguise when regarding the comment that he should be finding more mortal friends. She couldn’t help but prolong the conversation as long as she could. After all she knew that Gale would have a chance to make a list long enough of what he likes about her until dawn. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking and her desire to listen to him longer.

• He insisted that she go and enjoy the festivities. Begrudgingly she did, ending the night fantasising about Gale.

• The Underdark was truly quite a perilous place. She had never seen such a fascinating flora and was all to eager to try to experiment with it....even if it cost her arcane ward charges in the process.

• Her dad would be disappointed in her approach, but to be fair she has no idea what kind of safety precautions she needs with these plants.

• The sussur flower was particularly interesting, as well as the bark they got for the mysterious blueprints they found. Granted when the flower nullified her magic completely it made her feel not just vulnerable, but hollow.

• The only true highlight of the Underdark was when they found the Arcane Tower and the magical construct named Bernard. Sure, Gale found the excessive use of poetry a bit too much, but she found it creative and sweet. Going through books and finding magic items set her spirits higher after trying not to get incinerated by mushrooms and exploded by traps. The sudden spectator didn't help this journey be a bit less tiring.

• As for Grymforge, when they were done with Nere it made exploring the place much easier. What wasn't easy was the fight which left more than just physical scars.

Act II

• Ever since Maeve had learned to channel her arcane ward onto others, she had been doing nothing but that, even to her own detriment.

• This made Gale worry more, especially after the Nere fight where he nearly died. This prompted Meave to focus on protecting him more than before. He didn’t have an extra suit of armor like her no matter how temporary it is.

• Protection, banishing enemies and nullifying magic is her field of expertise. Gale was very aware of the point of her chosen school of magic. She's becoming a master at a rapid pace. It was always breathtaking seeing her in action. The cold, steely focus, the magic of her wards, the pure determination and optimism despite their dire odds.

• Even still, the guilt didn't leave him and he made sure to be useful and less of a burden next time. She put trust in him, he couldn’t fail her like that again.

• It's just a matter of time when the energy of her ward runs out. He fears what will happen then.

• Their journey lead them to Shadowlands where an unexpected person waited for them...rather Gale specifically.

• You know, Maeve thought that meeting THE Elminster would have been the highlight of her wizarding career. Instead the archmage rolled in all his cheese loving glory to give the most outrageous request from Mystra. No, not a request, basically a death sentence.

• Whatever respect she had for her disintegrated in an instant. What else was completely turned to ash was her heart when Gale accepted this suicide mission without a shadow of a doubt.

• Everyone in the camp was outraged, even Shadowheart who was faithful to her goddess expressed the same sentiment. Maeve had a moment of levitity when Karlach mentioned she could go to Gale and say that she has never read book since she was a kid. Even still her heart grew heavy with dread.

• Afterwards Gale became more forthcoming about his feelings towards her at odd times. This threw her off a bit, though were also welcomed surprise. She feared that if she doesn't talk him down she's going to lose him forever. This is not the beginning of the end for them.

• As they got closer to Moonrise towers she had her own revelation or rather enlightenment. It wasn’t because she had gotten nearly drunk by whatever ghastly concoction Thisobald Thorm had made. Her mind had stayed surprisingly clear with her allies helping her. She had already accepted that no amount of divinity will save her digestive system, but somehow it stayed intact.

• The revelation in question had her reevaluate her decisions. She can't save everyone if she keeps making herself as a sacrificial lamb in every fight. She was confident in her companion fighting abilities, after all they were all doing the most damage to their enemies. She just tried to keep them safe from dangerous afflictions that magic can bestow or even spells that could do near fatal damage.

• What forced her to face this was literally facing a dark version of herself and her fellow companions. More so the latter. She knew this was a trial however seeing your evil, illusionary friends die, especially the man you care for dearly (almost love if not already), will leave a mark on your psyche.

• If she's gone she doesn't know who will step up as the next leader. She has to make sure all of them survive the fight against The Absolute. And she still has that lanceboard to finish, gods be damned.

• She's not the hope as the High Harper called her. Or really everyone in that inn. Actually she was getting quite tired of that title. And getting titles in general, mycanoids truly went over the top with them. She was already crumbling under pressure and their exploration of the Shadowlands helped her stay distracted.

• Then Mol had to get kidnapped only to prove that she can't protect everyone. It was more like a sick, cruel twist of fate. The children reactions had her have the long awaited breakdown during the night.

• She felt it coming like a storm so she made sure to be away from the camp. Scratch and the owl bear cub were surprise guests, but the emotional support she needed that night.

• She steeled herself even more. If a fight can be avoided then she will use trickery if needed. It happened with the drider, then Thisobald, then the devil Raphael didn't particularly like. Gale shared his admiration for her silver tongue, but also the slight fear.

• She hoped he didn’t mean it seriously and more as a compliment, but this made her get back to herself just a bit. A bit more feeling, a bit more emotive, a bit less fake.

• Then she saw the projection Gale had made before the fateful fight. It made her stop and collect herself, trying not to get caught in the current of the worst case scenarios.

"He wouldn’t go and face it alone." She thought to herself, gathering whatever crumbs of her courage she had left.

She followed the path Gale's projection had pointed at (she had to do everything to not go into a full sprint). Seeing him doing his magic, sitting on the grass made her feel like she could finally breathe.

"He's alive. He's here."

She had almost missed the illusion Gale had made, even if it was brightly illuminated in the sky. Her focus had only been on him, a thought nagging her mind that perhaps this is just a dream and will turn into a nightmare once she wakes.

But this wasn’t. This was real. She sat next to him and gave a hesitant smile. He started talking in a way that sounded like a goodbye more than anything else.

"You seem especially philosophical this evening. Are you all right?" She teased despite knowing full well the answer. She just wished desperately he would have a different one this time.

"I will be, soon. I am perhaps just one hard day away from being without any troubles at all. This may be my last night alive. I wanted it to be under a canopy of beauty and wonder...with company to match."

She stared at him, hanging on his every word.

"I thought this place might bring me peace. I thought it might make the weight of what I must do a little lighter...but I'm not sure."

In her life she always had a way with words. Written more than spoken though, she wasn't as eloquent as him...outside of tricking your way out of life threatening situations.

When it came to expressing her own emotions, she couldn't weave her words to make it sound like poetry...so she tried honesty.

"I refuse to believe this is the end. We'll find another way, I promise." Her desperation almost came through her voice.

She tried to convince him again, once he didn’t seem to budge at all. This is not the right way and this is not his fate. It won't be.

"Nothing is inevitable. Not when we face it together. You don't have to die."

The mood shifted, the magnetic pull she had for him got stronger. It was nothing like the connection they shared in the Weave. You don't need magic to feel the unshackled intensity of emotion...the bond they clearly shared with one another.

"I'm so very glad you came, to share this with me. I know this is all unreal, but I created it for you. You must know that you're...That you're very special to me. If things were different, if we were home, I'd have taken time to do things properly. To say it all better. But time is short. I'm in love with you."

There was no hesitation in her response. "I'm in love with you too."

The tension in his body dissipated as she smiled. "That's a relief. It would be a shame to spend my final hours making an ass of myself."

Previously when she had kissed anyone she had never really felt anything. It was just another thing couples tend to do. But maybe it was the danger, maybe the uncertainty of their future that made their kiss spark a fire in her.

"I hope this wasn’t a parting kiss."

"Not if I have any say in the matter."

She knew the desire to make things perfect, but to bond in a way gods do? She wanted the real him, the man behind all of these grand illusions he had created. She wasn't a goddess he needed to 'wow'.

Still she decided to indulge him and he created a projection of his home. It was finally nice to have a picture painted more clearly of the place he lived in.

She was all to engrossed in everything, especially the part about books and the enchanted piano. The last thing that made her grin the most was the sunset. How she missed it...it was almost like she felt the warmth from the ray of lights.

Then the underlying melancholy breached this blissful ignorance. She sat down, making him turn his attention towards her.

"My favourite spot. Many times, evening turned to night and back to daybreak once more while I sat here, lost in words."

He mentioned a book called "Art of night". Of course leave it to him to seduce someone with a book. She wasn't someone who particularly enjoyed such physical intimacy. It wasn’t the first thing she desired to do with her partner or the tenth for that matter.

The thought of having the stars be their bed and intertwining souls, while sounded magical, it didn't make her think of the act all the more romantic. Perhaps it's the wood elf side of her talking.

Nevertheless she allowed her soul to drift what might be the Astral Plane just to feel what it is like and it confirmed to her that truly the best illusion would be a physical bed and their skins touching each other. This was all impressive, but she noticed perhaps it's finally time to show him how pleasant bonding as mortals can truly be.

~

If you made it this far, congratulations. Here's a cookie 🍪.

Rest of Act II and III might be coming at some point *shrugs*. Honestly I just needed to write this out, as mentioned at the start. Now I feel more sane and can focus on my writing projects.

[hcm92literature]

‘Out Of Character’ 17th December 2022

‘Out Of Character’ master page

Read on AO3

Author’s notes: so this took a long time to finish, but good news! not only have i finished the entire fic, i also commissioned @akumatizedcamembert for some art of a particular moment in this chapter! it’ll be at the end of this chapter so make sure to check the bottom of this page for some fantastic art! i will also be posting the final chapter on the 31st so keep an eye out for that!

Marinette had spent the majority of November and early December furiously creating new costumes for the December larp event, as it was taking place at the Grand Palais instead of the original arena. Something about the organisers not being able to lease it for the weekend because December was a busy time of year, and the Grand Palais had been frozen over for December. It would also offer some good publicity as people could watch as the game played out on the ice. So they had come up with an in-world reason for it being a slightly smaller frozen landscape and had instructed the players that could make it to the event to bring skates and modify their superhero costumes to look like they had ice power ups. Not being content to just modify her suit, Marinette had created an entirely new one, complete with thermal fleece padding, fur trims on the hood and where the gloves and boots joined the main suit, and blue snowflake gems on the spots. When Alya had seen her handy work, she had begged for a similar suit of her own. Marinette was happy to oblige, as she had been inspired to draw more designs based on the winter suits. And it totally wasn’t just so she wouldn’t have to think about the kiss.

Alya had been teasing her about it for the entire week since and kept referring to Adrien as Marinette’s supermodel boyfriend. But something just wasn’t clicking in her mind. Something about Adrien at last week’s party was nagging at her... He had called her Nettie. Had he even heard anyone call her that before? She couldn’t recall a time when either Alya or Nino had said it in front of Adrien. So how did he know about it? And… the way he said it sounded so much like…

Marinette shook her head and focused on tying her skates up. She hadn’t seen her partner yet, and their texting had ceased altogether since the night before the party, which was suspicious. The lump in her throat was refusing to go, no matter how much she tried to swallow it away. Alya - now dressed as an icy Rena Rouge - could tell how nervous her friend was and was trying her best to keep things positive as they got ready for larping on ice.

“C’mon, girl. I know it’s weird and complicated, but just try to enjoy today, okay? Adrien’s not here, and fighting bad guys is always fun!” Alya grinned at her friend but Marinette still felt apprehensive. What if Adrien was there?

The sound of a megaphone being turned on alerted the pair to the organisers signalling that In Character time was starting, and they made their way to the rink. Marinette wobbled as her skates hit the ice, threatening to slip onto her bum, when someone caught her. Looking up, it was clear that Alya was not the one who had prevented her from falling, as she was stood in front of her looking over her shoulder with a smirk. Gradually looking round, Marinette felt her face flush. He had also made a new suit, with fur lining his hood and blue gem accents dotted all over his black suit. He had even dyed the tips of his messy blond hair blue. If Marinette wasn’t so flustered she would have made a comment about it being over the top, but she couldn’t deny it suited him. His contacts were still the same green cat eyes and his grin was still the same Cheshire cat grin. Marinette felt her heart thu-thump thu-thump thu-thump against her ribcage as if it were a bird desperate to escape.

“Looks like this new power will have a slippery slope of a learning curve, eh LB?”

Laughing nervously, Ladybug clung to Chat Noir as he raised her to her feet and began skating alongside her. Before long, Viperion and Ryuko had joined them, along with Rena and Carapace, and the partners’ arms had been unlinked in favour of aiding their accelerated skating. Even Queen Bee had tagged along, possibly because they were the only heroes attending this particular event and she didn’t want to be on her own. There were still a few of the miniaturised Parisian landmarks dotted around the rink, painted blue and white to match the ice and donned with Christmassy decorations, and the group deftly weaved between them whilst a few “civilians” leisurely skated around. A muffled thud came from the Arc de Triomphe being pushed over, and the heroes spun around to face the akuma. Glaciator was back. Ladybug knew exactly how to deal with him. She looked over to Chat Noir only for her heart to sink as she saw that Ryuko had grabbed hold of his arm and the pair were skating off to one side. Rena and Carapace partnered up and sped to the other side to flank the akuma. Only Ladybug, Viperion and Queen Bee remained, the latter of which raised an eyebrow.

“If either of you think you can pair up with me, you can forget it.”

Viperion gave Ladybug a small smile. “I know who you really want to be paired up with.”

Ducking her head, Ladybug tried to hide her blush. “I mean… we’re supposed to be partners, that’s all…”

“Is that why you looked so dejected when he rushed off with Ryuko?”

As if Glaciator could hear their conversation, he bellowed at the pair approaching him that they were with the wrong partners. Chat Noir and Ryuko nearly fell over as Glaciator hurled several scoops of brightly coloured ice cream at them and they sped off in different directions. Viperion gave Ladybug a small smirk then turned to glide after Ryuko, leaving an opportunity for Ladybug to go after Chat Noir. She hesitated until Queen Bee rolled her eyes and pushed her in his direction, muttering something about her being utterly ridiculous. Trying not to fall flat on her face, Ladybug threw herself into skating full pelt towards Chat, though she hadn’t thought about how to slow down when she got to him. “Chaton!”

Chat spun around just in time for Ladybug to slam into his chest, sending both of them sprawling over the frozen floor. “Ice of you to catch up, milady. But maybe slow down a bit next time so we don’t break the ice!”

Snorting, Ladybug propped herself up on her gloved hands to look down on him, then nearly fell back down as all the blood in her body rushed to her face. They were so close. Too close. She was straddling him and if anyone hadn’t seen her crashing into him just moments before, it would look incredibly suspicious. Even he was blushing from their proximity, and his expression was one of confused surprise. Ladybug threw herself off him and landed on her bum. Chat snickered as he sat up and straightened his costume. “It seems you really need to work on your glacial awareness, milady.”

Ladybug groaned and she swiped at his outstretched hand before actually taking it and allowing him to pull her to her skates. They both blushed again as they stood upright, their chests nearly touching, then they turned as Glaciator knocked over another nearby set piece trying to get away from the other heroes. He spun around and lifted a purple painted scooper at Ladybug and Chat Noir. “I’m Glaciator, the mean ice cream man, and I am your number one fan!” He then dug his silver scooper into a bucket strapped to his hip and threw the resulting scoop of ice cream at the pair, making them jump slightly apart.

“If he’s such a fan, why is he acting so chilly towards us?”

“Ladybug and Chat Noir are made for each other! But they have been standing under the mistletoe and have done nothing about it!”

Eyes widening, Ladybug turned to Chat Noir to find her expression mirrored on his face, then they both raised their gaze to a sprig of mistletoe hanging from a lamp post above them. Ladybug groaned. This was just like at Alya and Nino’s party. And if Glaciator’s remark was anything to go by, it would happen almost exactly the same way as it had then. With an added audience looking on from the perimeter of the rink… Looking back at Chat made her stomach sink, as his face had flushed and fallen. He clearly didn’t want this. Ladybug slid backwards a half-step when Queen Bee yelled across the rink at them.

“You’re so lame, just kiss already!”

Chat let out a breath, then closed the distance between them, giving Ladybug a smile as her face flushed a deep red. “It’s tradition, right milady?”

Swallowing thickly, she nodded, then took a deep breath, inhaling Chat’s sandalwood cologne. The same cologne Adrien wore… She didn’t have time to dwell on that fact as Chat quickly leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It was exactly the same kiss as at the party. His lips moved against hers and she felt a jolt of excitement run up her spine as she responded. One of his hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer whilst the other cupped her face, and she found herself sliding a hand up under his hood to entangle her fingers in his hair just as she had a week ago. Just as she had a couple weeks before that on her balcony… Suddenly Chat’s breath hitched and he pulled back, recognition in his eyes. “Ma-?”

“Okay love birds, we need your help here now!”

Blushing at the applause from the crowd, the pair turned to see the group still trying to subdue Glaciator and leapt away from each other towards the ruckus, trying to focus on the game and not each other. These revelations would have to wait until the game had finished and there weren’t a bunch of onlookers. Glaciator was more difficult to deal with this time around, possibly due to the icy terrain, and because there were more of them fighting him at once. Also probably because Ladybug and Chat Noir kept stumbling every time their eyes met or they got close to each other, which slowed things down a bit. Eventually the group freed the butterfly figurine, wiped the purple paint off it, and helped André out of his costume.

There was a brief pause for lunch, with a festive buffet spread for the role-players and organisers. Most people were hungrily tucking in, making the most of the small bites of turkey sandwiches, various cheeses, mini gateaux and glasses of champomy, but Adrien kept trying to catch Ladybug who kept making flustered excuses and rushing off. Did she not want to talk to him now that she knew who was beneath the mask? If he had figured it out then he was sure she had too. Though he knew she wasn’t as taken with Adrien as she was with Chat, so was the revelation that they were one and the same too much of a shock to her? He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before turning to the buffet. He guessed he would just have to be patient with her.

After a couple hours of eating and resting and a zamboni repairing the ice the heroes’ skates had torn up, the game was back on. The next akuma was a man dressed like an ice sculpture called Frozer who had an assistant following him with a giant tub of snow which he kept digging into to throw snowballs at the heroes. Ladybug continued to avoid going near Chat, much to his dismay. It made things awkward when she was nearly hit by Frozer and Chat had to leap to push her out of the way, as she had begun stammering and scrambled away on all fours as fast as she could. He understood that they needed to focus on the game for now, but they would need to talk at some point. Preferably before Rose and Juleka’s party on new year’s eve… And the way she was avoiding him made him think she really wasn’t happy finding out who he was. Adrien sighed again before returning to the group to cleanse the butterfly they had extracted from Frozer’s skates, ending the game and receiving a cheer from the audience.

art by the amazingly skilled and talented @akumatizedcamembert!

[beannary]

I actually really wanna hear that hour presentation about how Nettie was made because parthenogenesis is a natural process that happens in the body. But Donnie calls Nettie an experiment like she was made in a lab. Did he experiment on himself to induce parthenogenesis?

so basically I am NOT a biologist so I only have a very surface level understanding of parthenogensis but basically yeah!

After the kraang and the whole merging with the technodrome situation, Donnie got really into biology, and specifically animal biology which I don't think he was really into before. I always imagined donnie to be really squeamish when it comes to blood and guts and bodily stuff, but merging with the technodrome really kind of shoved that out of him, and he finds some comfort now in studying animal biology.

He basically ends up doing a deep dive into his own biology, since that's really the easiest body he has access to. like sure he could study his brothers but they have their own lives and he well, controls his own body so he can do whatever he wants with it. And in the process he sort of connects the dots like huh, Draxum made us to be weapons of war but would he also want us to be able to reproduce? Because obviously draxum wouldnt want his biological weapons to just die and end there, it would make sense if the turtles were capable of reproduction if just for the benefit of draxum not having to remutate new animals everytime one of his weapons got injured.

So Donnie follows that logic and is like huh, well some reptiles can reproduce asexually (not softshell turtles from what I can tell based on my VERY BRIEF research) but he I wonder if because of Draxum's mutation if I could also do that.

If I was an actual biologist or if I had more time to do actual research into parthenogensis and asexual reproduction I would totally write out Donnie's whole presentation and figure out the science behind how Nettie was made but alas, I am in school rn and I dont really have the time

maybe in december that could be a fun little project when the quarter ends but I was planning on using that time to crank out as much TLP content as possible so who knows! I have gotten quite attached to Nettie and I want to make more stuff about her so maybe I'll end up doing a biology deep dive

[chrkrose]

Hey, I just want to say I LOVE UR NETTLES ART. You’re so talented.

I can’t begin to describe the happiness I felt when I saw how beautiful and accurately you drew nettles. The HOTD fandom is so racist they’re always lightening her or drawing her to look grotesque.

Like I saw one tweet that stated I quote “Daemon would never cheat on Rhaenyra with a low born ugly black girl”. I was so pissed. They don’t even bother to hide her racism

Anyways, ignore what the haters say and keep doing what ur doin. Your one the only pro nettles accounts I’ve stumbled upon on the internet.

Ps: I look forward to more nettles individual art and possibly some for Baela and Rhaena:)

_______________________________________________

Aaaaah thanks <3333. I know the feeling well, spent years having zero Netty content until I learned how to do my own lol. I’m glad I can provide for others lmao.

You know, I love me some ugly girls who are allowed to be ugly and I straight up don’t mind at all if Nettles is indeed ugly, but I feel like in her case there’s more of misogyny/racism against her from the maester’s perspective than her being actually ugly in canon. Still, I think it’s important to keep her traits (scar; crooked teeth etc) cause none of those should be in any way demeaning of her worth.

But yeah, people saying Daemon wouldn’t go for her are simply just straight up racist. I did have a daemyra shipper actually saying that with all the words (“if he leaves R for her, it’s only for the sake of representation, because it’s not realistic to have him leaving R for a black woman”). When I say they aren’t even hiding anymore, I’m not joking. Twitter is a cesspool when it comes to Nettles, and I predict it will become worse, so I’m here in the trenches already.

I have no plans of stopping posting about her, I hope the show makes her as cool as she has the potential to be.

Ps: I’m gonna take notes on your Baela/Rhaena request, I might do my own interpretation of them mixing show and book elements ♥️

[rinwellisathing]

It's A Thankless Job: Part 12

Halsin preferred to give his partners space when they needed it, a request wasn't even necessary, if they chose not to come by or contact him for a while, he would simply respect that decision and push his mind to assume the best. Years of anti-anxiety practice and coping mechanisms made it easier, though he couldn't fully erase the hurt. In Sentry's case, the hurt was compounded by worry for the younger man. He had shown himself to be impulsive, mercurial, and there was still something he wasn't telling Halsin, the druid knew. He would never pry, of course, but that little inkling of concern still scratched at his brain. He wasn't one for social media, normally, he tended to prefer the outdoors or quiet creative pursuits such as sketching or whittling, as the multitude of beautiful carvings and painstaking anatomical sketches of plants and animals around his office showed, but he did have a simple account he didn't check or use much just in case a patient's people needed to contact him and couldn't get him on the phone. The account had very few friends since Halsin didn't really update it, never posted, and only really answered messages, the list showing only a few names: Jaina Thalassia, Gale Dekarios, Nettie and Rath's accounts were present on his friends list as they'd insisted...He looked up to the search function and with a deep breath, did something he'd never done before...He decided to snoop, even if just a little in a way most might argue was completely normal. 'Sentry Ojeda' he typed in, and quickly found the profile he was looking for, the picture was Sentry posing in a finely embroidered suit on the arm of someone whose face and body were out of frame. The profile didn't have much available publicly, a few pictures and a friends list. Halsin found himself hovering over the friend request button, telling himself most people did this, it was perfectly normal, only someone uninterested in technology as he was would consider this strange. Hells, wasn't it more strange that he'd slept with Sentry, shared so many conversations with him, even loved him, and hadn't befriended him online yet? He inhaled deeply and clicked the 'send request' button. In seconds, the request was accepted and a message popped up. Sentry: Heeeeeey sorry I worried you <3 Which, like, I'm guessing I did because you don't seem like a social media kind of guy? You: Ha...A bit, I have to confess. Are you alright? Sentry: Oh yeah, just really busy. Got tons on my plate rn, yknow? World's best big brother, churning out content, clients, murders.... Halsin quirked a brow at that, leaning in and trying to think of a response before he was interrupted by another pink. Sentry: Just kidding about that last one... The joke was, perhaps, in poor taste after the recent rash of killings throughout the city, but then again Sentry WAS in his twenties, Halsin had to realize his humor was likely to tend towards edgy. Sentry: Unless?

The druid rolled his eyes. Sentry: Nah, I'm seriously just kidding, for real. You: I see, I didn't know you had siblings. It's good of you to care for them. Sentry: Nah, I only really have to worry about the one because she's still a teenager, everyone else is older than me actually and we all pitch in, so like don't paint me as a hero or something. You: Fair enough. Do you want to go for another walk in the woods together?” Sentry: Oooh, the risk of getting ravaged by a bear??? Or ravished, maybe? Halsin paused a moment, thinking intently about his reply. Every time he started to type something out, however, he found himself backspacing it, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed in concern at the thought of how each thing could be misinterpreted. Any joke could come across as a slight, appearing overly enthusiastic might make Sentry feel like it was just about sex, more like a client than a partner. Trying to be romantic, however, might make Sentry feel undesirable, like Halsin was deflecting or turning down the chance to fuck him. He ran a hand back through his hair and inhaled deeply. There was also the problem of addressing Sentry in the reply, a pet name too romantic might make him feel that things were moving too fast, just his name might make it feel cold and impersonal, This would have been so much easier in person... Finally, he took one more deep breath and replied: You: I'm certainly open to suggestions. Sentry: Cool, cool...Tomorrow night? You: Sounds good.

--- After closing out of his chat with Halsin, Sentry noticed a message from Orin and opened it, scanning the contents. Images of absolutely lazy, poorly done kills. More than that, the crime scenes were decorated with what could almost have been Bhaalist symbols except for a few details missing. Details a Bhaalist should be aware of, but an outsider wouldn't consider. Baby Sis: Copy-cats, slaughter-kin! Copy-cats skitter-slinking about our territory! They pry and prod, scuttling about and mocking our work. Me: Oh? Well, baby sister, let's look at the positives. Gary would have wanted us to, after all? See that blood red lining: Haven't they just provided us with an excellent crop of new victims? Baby Sis: Yes...send them a message. Slit and stab these pretenders. Make mince-meat of them. Me: Think you can find them if Gabraela and Jackal help out? Meanwhile, I'll grab Tomi and we'll meet you at the shed in the back of the cemetery.

Baby Sis: Time for a Blood-Bath!( This was followed by a gif of a deranged cartoon character splattered in blood dancing manically)

Sentry closed his phone and smirked. Oh, tonight had just gotten interesting. He looked around the room he was currently in, a bedroom in a cozy little town home in the upper city and sat down on the rumpled bedding for a moment, taking in the blood spatter all across the walls, the saturated carpet beneath the cooling corpse. He casually swung his legs a moment and then stood, sauntering over to the closet. Eh, this guy had been about his height and build, and he didn't really feel like going home to change into something more appropriate to bother Tomi at work in. He chose a simple black suit and polished black shoes, grabbing a duffle bag from the closet floor for his own clothing. Thinking further, he looked over the dresser and began lifting the various perfume and cologne bottles, taking a sniff at each of them before finally settling on a very mild scent that was close enough to his usual patchouli, vetiver, and roses, a difficult combination to find. When he was properly dressed and smelling nice, he made his way out of the house through the back door and into the alley. Fel would be here to deal with the mess soon enough and Tomi's building was at least a thirty minute walk. --- “ So in the next quarter, I believe we will see a marked increase in our products' popularity. Our allergy medications will see an uptick in the fall, followed by many of our pain relievers in the winter. But most of all, our research shows anti-depressants increase in popularity too as it starts to get darker and colder out. Who knew?” The woman at the front of the board room appeared to be a middle aged half elf of Kozakuran descent, her black hair pulled back smartly with a tortoise shell clip, a few strands of grey framing her face. Her dark eyes were sharp and focused behind a pair of fashionable spectacles and her pants suit was immaculately pressed and made from fine, soft material. Sentry rolled his eyes. It was amazing how many people fell so easily for Tomi's little disguises. If they knew what hid beneath them, they might never sleep again. He shook off his distraction as the secretary, a pleasant, pretty young deep gnome gestured him forward, opening the door for him. “Ah, Miss Yubari, I'm so sorry to interrupt, your son is here to see you, he says there is a family emergency?” The young woman whispered softly, more of a stage whisper, really. “I see...Well, we can surely table this for now, after all, you know how important family is to me. How about this? By noon tomorrow, have some research of your own ready and we'll cater a lunch meeting. My treat.” Tomi's tone was gracious and maternal. So much so that her employees couldn't help but nod their agreement and murmur well wishes. “Hope things are alright, Akiko” “Take all the time you need, Miss Yubari.” “We all know you'd allow the same for us.” “Oh you are all just too kind. Thank you so much.” Tomi waved to them and excused herself from the room, approaching Sentry. “My sweet boy, what can mother help you with?” She fussed over him quite visibly while her employees were in ear shot and could see them, all while slowly guiding him towards the elevator.

Once they had left the building completely and were in Tomi's car, a sleek pink sports car with tinted windows, Tomi's body rippled and writhed, something horrid wriggling beneath her flesh as her body warped and twisted from the professional looking older woman to the glamous beauty she usually presented herself as. “Now, what was so important that you had to interrupt my meeting? I was this close to getting another spiked shipment out!” Tomi complained. “We have copy cat killers, big sis. Orin and the others are on capture duties, but we need to be there too when they get them to the shed, you know, so they really see the 'error of their ways'” Sentry explained. “Ugh....I hate it when those little pretenders get big ideas. You see, this is why that Murder Tribunal of Sarevok's was a stupid idea from the start! You know, in Kozakura, when we recruited unholy assassins, it was from the finest Bhaalist families who'd worshipped for centuries, not any edgy little so and so who could stab a stranger.” Tomi shook her head.

“I mean, honestly fair. Half of these cultists are tryhards anyway, I remember when Gary was alive, half the jobs he brought me along to before he started really training me were fixing these idiots' fuckups and getting rid of them after too many. That part was fun at least, though...And on that note...” He grinned as they pulled up to the back parking lot of the cemetery far behind where the manor stood, a large dingy shed halfway between the lot and the house. “I think tonight is going to be something very special, some real family bonding. Don't you?” Tomi nodded, skin rippling and churning again as her beautiful clothing became a simple beige smock and a pair of scrub pants, simple steel toed work shoes covering her feet and surgical gloves on her hands, the final touch was a surgical mask across her mouth and a simple blue scrunchie holding her long dark hair up in a ponytail. “Aww, you don't have special clothes, dear brother, you'll mess up that nice suit!” “I mean, I stole it from a client who was on the disposal list, so I don't think anyone is going to miss it.” He shrugged as he stepped out of the car, Tomi joining him with a little frown. “You should seriously consider dressing more presentably now that you're chosen, Sentry.” She chastised. “It just makes a nicer impression. Mother always said first impressions are important.” Sentry rolled his eyes. “And then you killed her, so I guess her advice wasn't all that important. And anyway, my clients like my clothes just fine, haven't had a dissatisfied customer yet.”

The two continued along the path up to the shed, opening the doors and entering. Jackal and Gabraela were already standing there, Gabraela in her old battered Flaming Fist uniform, hair pulled back into a tight braid, Jackal dressed in his hunting clothes, grey hair tucked into a battled old cap. Orin practically skipped over to greet Sentry and Tomi, dressed in a pair of bloodied overalls and a T-shirt that was white when she left the house, her long hair pulled into a quick, messy bun. “Slaughter-kin! Welcome to the fun! These things went skitter-slinking through our territory trying to impress grandfather's murder-council.” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Oh, but sadly the unworthy filth-things were found wanting.” She nodded towards three bound figures in chairs at the back of the shed. “Aww, so sad!” Tomi clasped her hands in mock sympathy. “well, waste not want not, yes?”

“Exactly. I think the sculpture garden could use some new pieces and I'm feeling really inspired lately.” Sentry agreed, sauntering forward. He looked down at the trembling figures before him with disdain. So common, so ordinary. A dwarven woman with red hair and eyes, a blonde haired green eyed elven girl probably around Orin's age, and finally a human man with brown hair and eyes, pasty skin slick with sweat. “Alright, you pitiful wannabes. You want to be Bhaalists so badly? Welcome to family bonding night. My name is Sentry Ojeda, you've already met my baby sister Orin. We'll be leading the fun.” He grinned, crossing the room to a work bench covered in various tools. “Oh, but don't worry, you'll get to know Tomi, Gaabii, and Jackal as well. Hells, by the end of tonight? We'll all be one big, happy family.” The failed initiates were trembling as they watched Sentry examine the various implements, holding them up so everyone in the room could see as he inspected the various blades, hammers, clamps, hooks, and drills. His expression remained thoughtful, brow furrowed in consideration, but beneath it all, he was hiding a nasty sense of excitement.

Meanwhile, his siblings were enjoying a moment with their prey. Gabraela stood stoic in the corner, arms folded across her chest, simply staring down at them silently. Orin made her way over to the dwarf and grinned widely in her face, her body cracking and twitching as she transformed slowly into her perfect mirror image. “Oh, it thought it could be slaughter-kin? It thought to stab and prod and poke its way into our family?” She wagged her finger as though at a naughty child. “But it didn't try very hard? No, no, no...tsk tsk...Its blood-offerings were so boring...so dull...Unimaginative.” She grinned wickedly, grabbing the woman by her long red hair and pulling a switchblade from the pocket of her overalls, running the blade down the side of her face, her smile widening unnaturally as the woman screamed in pain, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh hush now, shh shh shh!” Orin stroked her hair mockingly, licking blood from the side of her face. Tomi approached the man, tapping her chin and looking him over a moment. “Hmm...Oh! I recognize you! So sorry it took so long, but you've got such a forgettable face...” She giggled, ruffling his hair. “You're that tech guy on our client list. Aww, well, Sentry, I guess I owe you an apology! You satisfied this one quite a lot if he tried to join the family after meeting you.” She cooed teasingly to her brother before turning back towards her prey. “Gosh, I'm so sorry to say but...you really aren't his type. But don't worry! Tonight will be so, so special. The most intimate you've ever experienced!” She patted the man's shoulder, slinking around behind him, her fingertips tracing across his skin, the prickle of her long, sharp nails teasing every few seconds. The elf girl's eyes widened as Jackal approached her slowly like a wolf stalking its prey. He retrieved a cruel hunting knife from his boot and held it to her cheek, tilting her head from side to side. “Your skin's the only thing keeping you from lookin' like one of them prim matriarch bitches from back home...Maybe I should take it off you so as to make this sweeter.” He growled, bearing down on her as she closed her eyes and sniffled. “You fuckin' prissy little porcelain dolls think you're fit to join us and look at you...LOOK AT YOU! Flinching at the sight of a simple tool.” He sneered in disgust, spitting on the ground beside her. “Makes me fuckin' sick to my stomach.”

“Well, looks like everyone's chosen their kill for the night. Remember, if at any point your toy gets away, it's on you to bring them back....Oh, and if yours breaks early, no one else owes you a crack at theirs.” Sentry explained, stepping away from the table which was now expertly laid out with so many shiny playthings, glinting wickedly in the dim, dusty light of the shed's swaying ceiling bulb. “Oh slaughter-kin! Join me! My name-day is soon, we could make a hanging treat-vessel of it!” Orin approached eagerly, grabbing Sentry's hand in one hand and a sledge hammer in the other. Sentry grinned and grabbed one of his own, joining his sister. Jackal reached into a belt pouch and pulled out a small dart, careful to avoid the tip himself as he jammed it into the girl's arm. She yelped and wailed as he used the knife to cut her bindings. “You got a ten second head started, girlie, I suggest you start runnin'.” The Drow smirked, stepping back and gesturing to the door. The girl blinked and struggled to her feet as Jackal began to focus on his watch. Tomi approached the table and ran her hands over the tools, pondering carefully until her perfectly manicured fingers danced over a drill. Her red lips curled into a cruel smirk behind her mask and she looked to Gabraela. “Oh sister dear? Would you help me clear the table and clamp the specimen in place?” She batted her eyelashes at the tall Tiefling woman, who nodded silently and approached, lifting the bound human by his neck as Tomi expertly put the unused tools away.

Sentry grinned and gave a huge, sweeping theatrical bow to Orin before lifting the trembling, bound dwarf woman from her seat and lifting her up. He frowned, screwing up his face and thinking for a moment. “Hmm...I wonder.... Ah! Well, soon-to-be birthday girl, you are called Orin The Red, after all. So...why not?” He gave a sadistic little giggle and raised the woman's squirming body not quite high enough for the hook swing from the ceiling to catch the rope, instead digging it in between her shoulder blades and letting it sink into her flesh, laughing as Orin clapped and bounced eagerly up and down, all the while the woman was screaming hysterically, muffled by her gag. Her eyes rolled back, nostrils flaring, pain shooting through her body as Sentry stepped back, admiring his work. “Alright, you know the rules of the game, baby sis.” He grinned, taking off his tie and expertly fastening it around Orin's head, covering her eyes. “Now no peeking! That's cheating!” “Oh, alright slaughter-kin.” Orin chuckled as she raised the sledge hammer eagerly.

Sentry danced back a few paces to an old boom box on a stool in the corner and clicked it on, an energetic party anthem beginning to blast through the shed as Orin began swinging at the sobbing woman. The elven failed initiate gasped in horror as she heard the sounds coming from the shed, trying to hobble away faster into the misty woods of the cemetery. She couldn't hear a thing over the music, not footsteps, not night birds or insects, she had no way of knowing where her pursuer what coming from and she caught a whimper of despair in her throat as blood continued to issue from her wound, likely marking a trail behind her. It was hopeless, but what choice did she have? She felt her heart hammering in her chest as she pushed throught the plants and trees, desperate to find her way out.

Click...Click... Click...Click... The sound of pebbles falling on the ground, her eyes darted and her head turned this way and that as she tried to locate the source of the sound, she forgot herself and let out a wail of despair as she pushed on deeper into the dark woods. “Oh...Well, that's disappointing.” Tomi clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Ah well, better it happened to ours and not one of the ones who can't take a little disappointment.” Tomi giggled. “Right, Gaabii?” “Hmph...Still disappointing this one thought he could be one of us.” The tiefling woman shrugged, staring contemptuously down at the unmoving body on the table, his face gone stark white, blackened veins straining against the flesh. “It was one syringe, right?” She asked as she began to undo the leather straps she'd only just bound him in. “Yes, but in all fairness, I think I mixed this batch fairly strong...Mm...ah, well...I'll just intersperse it into the weaker batches. It'll be like a game!” Tomi squealed excitedly, clapping her hands together. “What fun.” All the while, slams of the sledge hammer hitting the wall on occasion or the sound of bones cracking and screams of pain echoed from the other side of the room as Sentry and Orin took turns swinging the hammer blindfolded at the dwarven woman, who was by now bleeding profusely from the hook piercing through her back. The screams began to die down as liquid trickled down her legs and her eyes went blank. “Aww, it gave us no flesh-treats from its skin-sack.” Orin pouted. “Hey, no problem, I'll bring her down and cut her open once Tomi frees up the work table. Besides, look at the way all those bones broke, it's beautiful, yeah?” Sentry asked, stepping back and admiring the work he and his sister had done. Orin paused a moment and then her face lit up with manic glee. The two stood in awe of their handiwork for a moment, Sentry slinging an arm around Orin's shoulder and pulling her in for a side hug. All four siblings turned around as a foot collided with the door, kicking it open with a loud BANG as Jackal entered, dragging a bound, bloodied sack behind him. “Hunt's over. Vapid little thing didn't put up much of a fight.” He spat, tossing the sack in the corner. “You two freaks can fight over parts for your little arts and crafts projects...” He nodded towards Sentry and Orin.

“Well, with that out of the way, guess a dedication to father is in order, right?” Sentry suggested. “Let me paint the sigil, slaughter-kin! Let me wield the gore-slick brush and call father to see our great work.” Orin danced eagerly on her tiptoes. Sentry thought a moment and nodded. “Sure, what the hells? Go nuts, kiddo.” He nodded towards the can of paint brushes on the work table. As Orin got to work painting the sigils, Gaabii and Jackal dragged the bodies over to where she stood. Tomi opened a small box under the work bench and pulled out the black and red robes, beginning to hand them out to her siblings as Sentry took his place at the head of the group. The siblings finished their work and knelt together in rows of two as Sentry dipped his fingers into the blood they'd spilled and passed through the group, marking each of his siblings with their bounty and then taking his place kneeling at the front of the group, marking his own face. The five of them bowed their heads in contemplation as they made their offering.

[hegrowth]

but anyway, getting farther in BG3 has helped me expand on kaeys universe a bit ! uwu some new info~

his sister became a harper while looking for him, and will probably either be mentioned by or encountered with the group of harpers in act 2.

kaey was raised within the area of the emerald grove so he has some passing familiarity with it and the druids there. my current idea is that his mother left her circle to raise the twins (idk the lore behind how druid circles work and if families can be raised within them) and worked as a healer.

I haven't decided yet, but his mother may have been a member of the circle at the emerald grove. idk, I just like the idea of halsin recognizing kaeys necklace as having belonged to his mother and having something to say about it / his mom dying.

riffing off the above, maybe his mom trained as a healer under halsin with nettie ! both her and halsin recognizing kaeys necklace 😭

I'm kind of vibing with kaey fronting as this simple cleric of Illmater, just a healer, when he actually has a dark past and is more than capable. just that he does seem so unassuming and kind that no one would really suspect he'd be otherwise ! and he never keeps the secret, it's never hidden with the intention to deceive, just in his own efforts to move on from what happened in his past. he'll freely tell you if you ask or imply, but otherwise he's content to meet the expectation of a regular healer.

as a note, still don't really know what his past entailed or the specifics of how he got there. I just know it was bad and he was manipulated and made to feel guilty about it to isolate him. I'm thinking this potentially involved the zhentarim, so running into rugan / finding the hideout may play into his personal questline. 🤔

he keeps a book, kind of like a journal, that records all the people / creatures he has healed or aided. specifics of the encounters, his own thoughts, and how they were resolved. as well as general observations of people and things around him. this likely comes up in some camp interactions lmao

he has multiple plants in his tent ! these also probably come up in some camp interactions.

not certain what his grove party scene entails should you choose to spend the night with him, but I know it isn't the sexy times. probably ends with a very shy kiss and some apologizing on his part. current thought is stargazing on the riverbank, maybe kaey inviting you to "sneak off" with him for a bit to get some fresh air and escape everyone / the party. probably him being slightly addled and overwhelmed.

[overnightheartbeats]

Watching his friend jump back into his old work without a hitch was amusing. Isaac couldn't lie, he had missed having him around at work, though they had all been very supportive of his decision to retire. Isaac had been tempted to ask for details, why now? But, he recalled Laurel pulling him aside at some point and practically making him promise to not question it or try dissuading him. That's really all he needed to know. Besides, he did seem pretty content with his new work and Isaac got to say his best friend was a firefighter. Win, win scenario except for now. He raised an eyebrow at the comment, frankly, he couldn't picture a world where he's running a background check on that girl or vice versa. Again, Isaac definitely used the worst example. He had a point though, he was willing to do it and Isaac should've done the same for Jazz. No matter what. "I guess so, can't picture you two doing all that, but you're right. I should've stuck to the paranoid bit. Hey, you can still blame them for shit, even more, if you don't know them. It's not like they'll come out of the woodwork to contradict you," he shrugged casually. It's something he had done, once or twice. Blame his deceased parents for whatever he was angry about at the time. Not great, he knew.

His head fell back, focusing on the ceiling for a moment, before looking back at Eli. "Appreciate you man, but it's not about being a hermit. It's not lost on me, the danger I'm putting you all in because I decided to try something as silly as love, the genuine way. Instead of taking precautions and being smart." The basics of his job, and he neglected it. "I'll need to reevaluate a lot, probably go back to basic training with the new recruits," he muttered. Isaac always took pride in his work and the work it took to get there. "And if this takes a turn for the worse, I'll need to confess my stupidity to the unit chief. Loop them in, probably." A dry chuckle escaped him, of course he always knew what to say. It was a fair point. Looking back, he had a good streak for bringing people into his life. "Nettie, true. I might still be redeemable there."

He nodded as a knowing smile tugged on his lips. Isaac knew they technically weren't a team anymore, not in the professional sense, but seeing his friend's smile at the mention was worth it each time. Even though she was now assigned to someone else, the real team was still here in this apartment. "I know she feels the same way." It was hard to not feel a twinge of envy at the connection. That's what he wanted. Not a work partner, but a true partner in life. Someone he could truly be open with, rely on, and be there for. It's what he had hoped for when he dove in with Jazz, not the exact same way, but the idea of building something with someone, it was intriguing him to say the least. "Project Christmas, yeah I'll have to do a thorough deep dive into her now. Good point there. She maybe well-trained, but so are we." And whatever he lacked, he hoped his friends could make up for it.

"Lying about the job pays off sometimes." Isaac stood up from his chair, though he still felt out of the loop. He knew that he could only continue feeling this way in this room. Once he stepped out and went back to her, everything had to be as it was. They couldn't afford to alert her. "Williams is leaning towards leadership change, strike when they're weak or distracted kind of situation. Knowing what we know now, that seems obvious. Here I thought she was just passionate about it and I was losing my convincing power. It's uh...Lotus...something." Lotusland? He couldn't be sure, but Eli was very quick to discard the places on the list, "that one fits, agree. I can't go, for obvious reasons, but might be time for you all to get your yoga in. Maybe Laurel, play on that pending friendship thing. Jazz swears she doesn't like her, so could be an in if she's pretending." A shake of his head, chuckling at the tv cable. "Wouldn't dream of messing with her tv, I'll fix the cable. As promised. I assume dinner is cancelled, so I'll just go drop her off. We can regroup afterwards?"

-

Heading back to Jazz was the slowest walk he ever did, full of sighs and practicing his smile. Back to action. He knocked on the door, and walked back inside. "Hey, sorry I left you here. That tv cable made me look very dumb, but I finally got it. What do you say, we head out to your place instead and grab dinner on the way?"

To say Eli missed the intrigue of being a spy would be an understatement but he also felt like he retired at the right time. His head wasn't in it. His heart wasn't in it. Since he died everything changed and with that the career change happened as well. Not looking up at Issac since he was busy keeping an eye on the laptop he hummed in response. "I mean, if I didn't know laurel and we were dating then yes I think I would have background checked her. Surface stuff but I'm also paranoid and that is unfortunately how I was born. I'd blame parents if I knew them." He had to raise his head to just give him one look. "Come on man. Family looks out for each other. This is not the thing that will make you turn into a hermit. I hope you know that we will not let that happen. Also, if we are being frank, you chose Nettie as your friends with benefits so you haven't completely lost your touch. Jazz might just be the one bad apple in the bunch."

A formidable team made him smile. He would always say Laurel was the better agent, she always had been. But being her partner for so long and being referred to as a team still made him proud. "No one else I'd rather have watch my six." That went beyond actually being romantically involved. He was always her biggest fan. "Hey, you're not stupid. Knock that thought out of your head. She's well trained. She knows what areas to work on. Remember Project Christmas, the US had sent out those standardized tests to see which kids would be able to be trained as sleeper spies? Jazz could have been one of those kids." Not that he knew for a fact but something his mind had come up with on the spot.

"Really glad you didn't. We'd have lost the upper hand." He stated as he refrained from letting out a sigh. Hearing that there was movement he couldn't help but feel on edge. "Key players coming out of the woodwork. Either they're changing leaders or trying to take over someone's territory. She never misses yoga. That makes me think that could be the spot where she meets her handler. Pick a place that most people would overlook. What's the name of the yoga place?" He didn't need to look very far, Texas only had a few within the mile radius. "There's three that are between warehouses, that is too obvious. Backdoors would be a thing. It has to be something that hides in plain sight. Like," he scrolled further and saw the one that was sandwiched between a pottery shop and a malt shop. "This one. There's no point of entry on either side. You'd have to walk out the studio to get into either of these stores. Seems like we found our target. Hang for a second." He got up and got his switchblade and cut the tv cable that hung near the wall. "Can't forget to fix the cable. If Laurel misses her night time shows there will be hell to pay."

[kasienda]

Yin and Yang - Ch 4: To Be Loved

Table of Contents: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Ao3 Link

Chapter 4: To Be Loved

Less than a week in, and Adrien strongly suspected he wasn’t pulling off a very convincing Marinette, but he didn’t know what he needed to do differently. He kept trying to be friendly and helpful to their classmates, but it clearly wasn’t enough because everyone kept asking him what was wrong.

He rushed through the hallway towards Bustier’s room. He had woken up with plenty of time, but Tikki had suggested he wait until the last minute to run downstairs and out the door like he had overslept.

He smiled to himself. He couldn’t believe that the ever responsible Ladybug struggled getting up in the morning, but the detail amused him greatly.

Too lost in thoughts, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. He shouldn’t have been surprised when he crashed into a solid chest. Hands immediately grasped out onto Adrien’s forearms, steadying him.

“Woah there, Nettie,” Nino said, pulling back once it was clear Adrien had recovered his balance.

“More clumsy than normal these days, huh?” his friend said with a teasing smirk. It was really weird that Nino was like a head taller than him.

“Th-Thank you, Nino,” Adrien stammered, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“Hey, you okay?” Nino asked.

Adrien sighed. That was what he was talking about. Why did everyone think something was off?

He pasted a bright smile onto his face. “Yes, of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

And Nino wasn’t the only one. Just in the last few days Rose had told him that her commission was in no hurry if Marinette needed some time to herself for whatever reason.

“Thank you, Rose. I really appreciate your understanding. I’ll try to work on it this week.”

“Or next month,” she interjected with a smile. “We all need time to just… recover sometimes, you know?”

And given that he knew she was talking about her own need to take breaks sometimes when her symptoms flared up, he had just nodded in agreement. His father would have never agreed. Neither would Nathalie.  

Later that day, Juleka had invited him over to listen to Luka’s latest song.

“I know you like his music,” she said. “You said last time that it calms you.”

“But would Luka even want me around?” Adrien had asked. He and Marinette had broken up just a few months ago.

Juleka frowned. “You and Luka patched things up, didn’t you? Did you get into another fight?”

“Uh… no! Of course not! Sorry, I just-” he had a hand on the back of his neck before he could think about it. He forced himself to drop his hand to his side.

Juleka patted his hand gently. “It’s okay, Marinette. I get it. I have a lot of anxiety, too. Just remember if you think Luka’s music would help you get out of your head, you can just come over, kay?”

He could just… come over? Like just show up unannounced? No schedules or plans? His shock must have shown on his face because Juleka frowned.

“Are you seriously, okay?” Juleka asked. “We’ve all been worried about you.”

“I’m fine!” he insisted, like a broken record.

He wasn’t pulling this off, and he was terrified that he was going to lose Marinette all her friends, or worse, that someone would figure them out, and then they’d start treating him like Adrien and her like Marinette and they’d never switch back, and it would be his fault. And Marinette, she was miserable in his life. He could tell from their late night conversations how tired she was, how much she put on a brave face to hide it.

And she deserved better. She deserved to have her own life back.

Which meant he had to get this right. He had to.

But he had no idea what he was doing wrong.

“Hey Marinette,” Max greeted when Adrien scrambled into the classroom two minutes before the bell. He glanced towards his own usual seat. Marinette wasn’t there yet, and he couldn’t help but worry that she was struggling with his wake up schedule more than normal. But maybe she just had a shoot. Weird that he didn’t know.

“I just wanted to let you know,” Max was saying, “that if you need some extra help I can help you with your homework.”

Adrien spun towards Max, his jaw dropping. “Uh… Thanks, Max! That’s really kind of you to offer.”

The other boy smiled, and made his way to his seat on the other side of the room, while Adrien dropped heavily into Marinette’s seat, anxiety flaring in his chest. Even Max had noticed something was up.

How was he ever going to pull this off?

“Girl, you okay?” Alya asked, settling into the seat beside him.

Years and years of practice allowed Adrien to pop back up with a smile. “Of course! Just stayed up too late last night working on a project.”

“Girl! You need to sleep!”

…

Adrien somehow made it through the whole day. Marinette had never shown up. He had texted her, but she hadn’t responded yet. He tried not to panic.

“Do you think she’s okay?” Adrien asked Tikki.

Tikki smiled warmly. “I’m certain that if she wasn’t, you’d be the first person she would call.”

He let out a sigh of relief. Tikki was right. He normally got pulled from class for a day for all sorts of reasons. There was no reason to freak out.

But he missed her. Her presence had a way of soothing his anxiety if only because she could give him hints through every interaction.

He slipped through the doors of the bakery. Marinette’s mother was at the front and smiled at him brightly. Something in his chest squirmed. Marinette’s parents were so nice.

“Hey sweetie! How was school?”

“It was great!” Adrien assured her with a smile, but Sabine’s smile actually faltered. “Come here, Xīngān.”

Adrien stepped around the counter, every muscle locked in tension as his heart pounded in his chest, once again completely uncertain as to what he did wrong.

Sabine’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a hug. “You don’t have to pretend, you know. Not when you’re at home.”

“Pretend?” he echoed. Had Sabine already figured him out? He didn’t think so. She was holding him and referring to him by the sweetest of Mandarin nicknames. She wouldn’t do that if she knew.

“Pretend that you’re okay,” she said, like it was obvious.

Adrien didn’t know what to say. What was she asking him to do? Break down into tears in her arms or whine about his day?

Neither would have been tolerated by his father.

She was stroking his hair, and he finally felt himself melt into her embrace. “I know, m-maman,” he said, trying hard not to stumble over the familial title and failing. After a week, it hadn’t gotten any easier. “I’m just tired.”

Sabine nodded. “Well, if you want to take a nap, I’m sure your papa would understand.”

“What?”

“It’s Wednesday! Did you forget?”

“I guess I just lost track of the days. He’s in the back?” Adrien pointed towards the bakery.

Sabine smiled. “As always,” she said. She kissed his forehead. “Have fun, okay?”

Adrien entered the back room of the bakery with only a little trepidation. Sabine has just told him to have fun, so it couldn’t be anything bad, right? Was this an every Wednesday thing that Marinette had forgotten to mention? Or a this Wednesday thing? Marinette didn’t have a calendar telling him where to be and when.

He was rapidly discovering that he didn’t know what to do with himself and all the unstructured time.

Tom’s whole face lit up when Adrien entered. It was surreal. Adrien’s father never looked at him with such open joy.

“There you are, cupcake! How was your day?”

“It was fine,” Adrien said. Tom was in the middle of decorating cookies and there was obviously a spot right next to him, waiting for Marinette to fill.

He washed his hands and put on a pair of gloves - an action Marinette had told him was essential anytime working in the bakery. And then he just stood there next to Tom, staring down at the bare freshly baked sugar cookies.

He watched Tom add a layer of frosting and then use tubes of colored frosting to create the most intricate design on the top.

Adrien did the best he could to follow suit, knowing his work had to be sloppy and infantile compared to anything Marinette or her father could make.

“Experimenting with new styles, I see,” Tom commented from over his shoulder.

“I-is that okay?” Adrien stammered.

“Of course it is, Pumpkin. I’m loving the hard lines and edges.”

Tension Adrien hadn’t been aware he was feeling released, and he threw himself into the task of decorating cookies, allowing himself to experiment and just try things.

“Is everything okay, Marinette?” Tom asked.

Adrien threw him a startled glance. “Yes, of course! Do I not seem okay?” he asked. Maybe Marinette’s parents could shed light on what was off.

“You’ve been quiet,” Marientte’s father commented. “And withdrawn. Usually you’re a babbling brook of excitement about this or that.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. Is that all it was? He was too reserved? Too quiet and polite? Not that Marinette was ever rude. Well, not unless someone deserved it.

“Is Chloé bothering you again?” Tom asked.

“Chloé?” Adrien repeated dumbly.

“She’s not bullying you again is she?”

Adrien came up short. He had always known there wasn’t any lost love between his oldest friend and Marinette, but… bullying? How long had that happened? What had Chloé done? How badly had Marinette been hurt?

“No,” Adrien said slowly. “Chloé’s still a brat, but she’s not as bad as she used to be.”. He was pretty sure that was actually true even in Marientte’s opinion. She had become much more tolerant of Chloé‘s moods ever since Style Queen, though he wasn’t exactly sure why.

“I’m so proud of you,” Tom said.

Adrien stared at Tom in shock. What?! Here, Tom was finding Marientte’s usual demeanor not up to normal standards, where he was trying to figure out what was wrong with Marinette - and he was proud?

Not disappointed?

Not angry?

“You’ve turned into quite the fire cracker,” Tom said, a fond smile blooming across his face. “You’ve learned to speak your mind and stand up for what you know is right,” Tom told her. “Like your mother,” he added. “And somehow, you’ve also become more compassionate and patient with others. So yeah, I’m very proud of you and the young lady you’re turning into.”

Adrien’s mouth was hanging open. These words were not meant for him. Tom should be telling all this to Marinette.

“But I also want you to know, we’re still here. Even though you’re turning into a beautifully independent young lady, you don’t have to do everything by yourself. If you need help with anything, if something is happening at school, or there is something you’re trying to figure out, you can always come talk to me. Or your maman. Or even your nonna or your uncle if it’s something you don’t want us to know.”

And Adrien was suddenly fighting off tears. This was a kind of support, a kind of love he had no experience with.

Suddenly, Adrien was very jealous of Marinette. That she had this. Whatever this was.

He hated himself for the ugly feeling. Because Marinette deserved all the love and support and more. He wanted this for her, he did.

He just… he also wanted it for himself.

“Marinette! Why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry!” Adrien said, his voice cracking as he lost control of the torrent of tears. “I just… I love you so much,” he said. “I love you… papa.”

Tom’s large arms enveloped him immediately, and Adrien let himself melt into the contact. Let himself pretend for this moment that Tom was his father.

“I love you, too, Marinetta,” Tom said.

Adrien couldn’t remember the last time his own father had said that to him.

He cried harder.

…

Adrien was back in Marinette’s room. He hadn’t started on his homework yet. Instead, he was indulging in a game of UMS while he snacked through a half a dozen cookies with Tikki. He was never going to get used to being able to eat pastries and cookies whenever he wanted.

Marinette’s phone rang with the ringtone she had specifically assigned to him, and he dove for the device, the game and cookies both forgotten.

“You weren’t at school today,” Adrien said into his phone. “Are you okay?”

“Exhausted,” she said. “There was an interview and then a fitting, and then a one on one fencing lesson to get me back into shape.”

He could hear the exhaustion in her tone even if he couldn’t see her face. “If it makes you feel better, your dad said really nice things about you today,” he said, hoping to reassure her.

There was a pause of silence. “What did he say?” she whispered.

“That you are like your mom, that you speak up and stand up for what’s right. That you’re patient and compassionate,” he listed off, knowing that he wasn’t doing what Tom said any justice at all. “I kinda felt bad that he said it to me instead of you,” he admitted.

“Oh, he says stuff like that all the time.”

Her words felt like a punch to the gut. Tom said such kind and amazing things… all the time? Adrien tried to squash down the pang of jealousy that flared to life in his chest.

“I miss him,” Marinette said.

And then he felt guilty. He was stealing her life. He needed to find a way to give it back.

But some tiny nasty corner of his mind didn’t want to give it back.

Because Adrien wasn’t loved.

Not the way Marinette was.

“Adrien?” she prompted, and he realized he had fallen into silence. “Are you okay?”

“Of course!” he said, trying to inject as much false brightness into his voice as he ever had. “I just… I don’t think I’m pulling off a very convincing Marinette.”

She snorted. “I’m sure you’re doing better than me.”

“People keep asking me if I’m okay,” he told her. “They can all tell that something is off, and I’m not sure exactly what I’m doing wrong.”

“I wish someone would ask me if I was okay,” Marinette grumbled.

Her words were a revelation. The question didn’t necessarily mean people were suspicious. Her friends and family weren’t trying to catch him doing something wrong. They were worried. They cared about him.

Or they cared about Marinette in any case.

He had never experienced anything like it as Adrien.

Weeks went by and he was learning to let himself gush excitedly about everything from video games to pastries. He even made himself deliver a monologue about how amazing “Adrien” was, though he limited his gushing to the events since their swap, and even with that his cheeks had been red the whole time. Luckily, the girls interpreted his blushes as signs that he was crushing, rather than just embarrassed. He couldn’t quite work up enough excitement for designs or fashion, but he knew enough about the subject that he could fake his way through those conversations as well.

He quickly fell into a routine, hanging out with Alya or Marinette’s other friends most days after school except for Wednesdays. On Wednesdays, he decorated cookies with Tom and had tea with Sabine. He coveted those mundane afternoons where he just told them about his week. And he spent the evenings either on patrol or on a video call with Marinette. Her friends and family stopped asking if he was okay, and everything was perfect.

Almost perfect.

Because Marinette herself was struggling. She came into class slumped and tired and during their evening phone calls she would rant about photoshoots or his father, and the guilty pit in his stomach grew. She was struggling and trying to hide it, and he felt powerless to help her.

This swap seemed to be so much harder for her than him, and that wasn’t fair.

He tried to help. He made her flashcards and gave her piano lessons. He listened to her righteous rants about the injustice of it all, he gave her tips on how to deal with his Chinese tutor and fencing coach, how to sneak away from his bodyguard on the days when she really needed it, and how to sweet talk Nathalie into giving him just an hour or two with his friends.

But he couldn’t do anything directly. Not like she could. She came over as Chat Noir and helped him finish Kitty Section’s costumes, but he couldn’t take her place during a fencing tournament or an oral exam though he had taken to completing most of her homework.

It wasn’t enough.

She seemed to hate his life. And he couldn’t blame her. Not really. Because her life was… better.

She was loved.

…

“Come on, girl!” Alya said, digging through a chest of presents in Marinette’s room that Adrien had never opened. “You and Adrien have gotten way closer lately.”

“It’s not that simple!” Adrien objected. Which wasn’t a complete lie. Even if he and Marinette now knew everything was mutual, it was still extremely messed up.

Alya gaze turned straight toward him, her eyes flat with impatience “It could be that simple. Just help me pick the right gift. We need something small, but genuine. There’s gotta be something in here.”

Adrien turned his attention to the pile of wrapped parcels for the first time.

Alya held up a package that read. “What’s in this one? It looks small enough.”

Adrien took it from her, staring at the gift tag. Marinette’s now familiar loopy handwriting had scrawled out Adrien - 18th birthday.

His eighteenth was still two years away!

“Or how about Adrien’s third name day?” Alya asked, holding up another small package.

He leaned over the trunk, letting his eyes roam over the tags.

Adrien’s 24th birthday.  

For when Adrien is sad and needs to be cheered up.

Adrien’s 42nd birthday.

Adrien’s 34th birthday.

As he shoveled through, he discovered that a few were for others - Alya, Marinette’s parents, others in their class. There was even one for Kagami. But the vast majority of the presents had his name on them.

“Which one are you looking for?” Alya asked. “I will help.”

Adrien clutched one present in his hand. The tag said, for Adrien on Valentines Day.

“Ooh! Is that a love confession? You better put your name on that one, girl!” Alya said, snapping the present from his hands and carrying it to Marinette’s desk.

“On this one?” he echoed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Yes! We don’t want a repeat of the scarf or Valentine’s incidents! I really can’t believe you let him think that scarf came from his father. You are too nice, Mari,” Alya said.

Marinette had made him his scarf? She had sent him a Valentine without her name? She had made all of these gifts for him? For, like, his next thirty birthdays plus who knew what other occasions.

He couldn’t stop the tears that welled into his eyes.

“Marinette? What’s wrong?” Alya asked.

He had no idea what to say. Marinette loved him so much. Marinette loved him so much.

“I just… I love him so much,” Adrien said, and his tears exploded.

Alya laughed even as her hands wrapped around his shoulders. “There, there. This is why you need to tell him.”

“You’re right, but..”

“No!! No buts! No spiraling! You deserve to be happy and I’m telling you, he likes you. Here, let’s call him.”

And somehow Alya had Marinette’s phone in her hand already, had already punched in the passcode with practiced ease, and was pulling up Marinette’s contacts.

Adrien panicked. Marinette couldn’t pick up the phone with Alya on the other side of the other side of the phone.

He snatched the phone from Alya, turned off the speaker phone, and held it up to his ear while Alya just beamed at him.

“Hey,” Marinette greeted softly. And his throat went dry.

She loved him.

He had spent the last week feeling jealous of her life and how much she was loved. But he was loved too.

He was loved by her.

Maybe he was the luckiest person in all of Paris for that fact alone.

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to explain all of this. But he didn’t want to do it with Alya listening in. He wouldn’t be able to speak freely.

“H-hey, A-Adrien,” he stammered into the phone.

“Alya’s there?”

He glanced up nervously at Alya. “Yes.”

“Well, you’re off to a good start. You’ve got the stuttering, and nervousness down. Now, just say something garbled that makes no sense, shriek and throw the phone away from yourself,” she coached.

Why did he feel like this had happened before?

“I don’t…” he didn’t know what to say. How did she come up with such ridiculous switched up sentences? He couldn’t emulate that. “H-how do I say this?

Alya sent him animated hand signals that he had no idea how to interpret.

“Yeah! I totally called you by mistake!” he spewed out rapidly. “Sorry to interrupt your night!” He hung up the phone and tried to throw it away from himself as Marinette had told him.

He thought Alya would be disappointed, but she was beaming at him. “That was really good, Marinette!”

He frowned. “What? But I didn’t confess!”

Alya shrugged. “Maybe not, but you managed full sentences!”

He blinked at her, wondering how many times Alya had tried to coach Marinette through conversations with him.

Alya patted him on the back. “Don’t worry! You’ll get there, girl! I know you will! Now! Do you want me to paint your nails while we watch a movie?”

“Uh…” he glanced down at the back of his hands. He had never had his nails painted before. “Yeah, sure!” he agreed with a beaming smile. This could be fun!

…

Nino: Hey Nettie! Do you think we could meet up after school tomorrow or one day next week? I need your help with something.

Adrien stared at the text. He realized that he could say yes to any day that week. Even Wednesday, if he wanted to. Tom wouldn’t begrudge him time spent with his friends.

He clutched the phone in his hand until his knuckles turned white. It wasn’t fair that Marinette was able to spend more time with his best friend than he was. It wasn’t fair that Nino literally had to bribe his bodyguard to come over to his house.

Adrien texted back immediately.

Marinette: Yeah of course! Tomorrow works fine for me.

Adrien slid onto a bench in the courtyard, next to Nino after their last class ended, his stomach fluttering with mild nerves. How did Nino and Marinette interact? He had no idea! He should have asked her about it the night before! Why hadn’t he? He felt more nervous around his best friend than the girls. Nino knew him better than almost anyone other than Ladybug. If anyone was going to recognize that he was Adrien in Marinette’s body, it was Nino.

“Hey Nettie! Thanks for meeting with me!”

Adrien smiled. “Of course! What’s up?”

Nino glanced away. “I want to throw Adrien a birthday party. And I figured that after my last attempt at a party ended in disaster-”

Adrien disagreed. It hadn’t been a disaster at all. He had a ton of fun at that party. It was the best one he had ever attended even if it had literally been crashed by an akuma.

“-I figured that my best bet moving forward would be to get you in on the planning.”

“You want my help?” Adrien echoed.

Nino turned towards him. “Look! I’m sorry that I excluded the girls last time. I just…” he glanced away for a second. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I didn’t want Alya to turn it into a matchmaking scheme, you know?”

Nino was rubbing his shoulder and looking down at the ground.

Heat bloomed in Adrien’s cheeks. Even Nino knew about Marientte’s crush on him? Did everyone know?

“It’s okay,” Adrien told him, convinced Marinette would be understanding about this kind of thing. “I understand. Sometimes we just need time with our friends! Where there’s no pressure.”

Nino flashed him a relieved smile. “Yes! That’s it exactly! You know I am rooting for Adrinette almost as hard as Alya.”

Adrinette?!

Adrien turned away, the heat in his face spreading to his ears and neck. “Umm… thank you?”

“Anyway, as I was saying, I figure with your ability to come up with insane plans, my best chance of success is to get you on my side.”

Adrien smiled fondly. His lady was definitely amazing at coming up with insane plans.

“But isn’t Adrien’s birthday in like seven months?” Adrien objected.

Nino grinned. “Exactly! Which means if we throw him a birthday party on his half birthday, his old man won’t have as much reason to suspect anything is going on.”

Adrien blinked at Nino. He couldn’t believe he had put so much thought into this. And it wasn’t the worst idea.

NIno was staring at him expectantly, and Adrien realized he needed to say something. He swallowed once. “What do you have so far?”

A grin lit up Nino’s expression.

“Alya suggested I ask Jules to use the Couffaine boat as the venue. That way we can go sailing, and as a moving target, it will be harder for the Gorilla to catch us and steal Adrien back until the party is actually over. Max also mentioned that Markov could probably jam Adrien’s cell phone signal making it even harder to track him down.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Adrien asked.

Nino shrugged. “No one is likely to notice.”

Adrien wasn’t so sure. His father could hold a grudge for a long time and he had a lot of influence with the city.

“Anyway, Chloé helped me get the rarest superhero that his bodyguard is still missing. Though she made me pay for it. Man! It was expensive!”

Adrien sucked in a breath. This was absolutely insane. It was like Nino was planning a heist.

All for him.

“Seems like a ton of effort,” Adrien commented. And he felt bad that Nino was putting so much time in this when he was right there, but he couldn’t say that.

Nino looked at him with a smirk. “Anything for Adrien, right?”

He said so easily. Like it was something he said all the time.

“R-right! Anything for Adrien.” He repeated, his cheeks burning. “So what do you need me for?”

“I need you to help me convince everyone else to get on board and to help me plan the kidnapping part.”

Adrien turned away deep in thought. He really wanted to do this, but he wasn’t sure he could pull off a plan the way Marinette could. And he didn’t want to ruin the surprise by getting her in on it. Goodness knew that she needed the break probably more than he ever had.

But he did know a lot about how to break in and out of the mansion, how to avoid or manipulate his father’s security measures. In fact, he could probably just text Marinette to meet him at a time when she wouldn’t be missed and Chat Noir could just leap out the window.  

“Do you think the others will be hard to convince?”

Nino waved his hand dismissively “Nah. They all love you and they all understand that Adrien’s life lacks… well, freedom.”

He blinked rapidly, trying to force back the tears that wanted to fall.

Their classmates weren’t just Marinette’s friends. They clearly cared about him, too, if they were willing to do all this. Maybe they didn’t show it the same way, maybe they didn’t understand the full extent of what was hard about his life, but they definitely understood it better than he had ever realized.

“So are you in?” Nino prompted.

“Of course I’m in! Did you doubt it?”

Nino laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t actually, but you’ve been so quiet today.”

Adrien sighed. He was getting better at pretending to be Marinette, but it was hard when he was the subject of the conversation.

Before he could respond, her phone buzzed in his pocket. His own smiling face smiled up from her screen. It was a candid - not a model picture. He wondered when she had snagged it.

“Hey Adrien! What’s up?” he answered, very aware of Nino sitting right next to him.

“Can you come over?” she asked softly. She sounded so defeated. His body tensed in alarm.

Shit.

It was Friday! The day of the private recital. He kicked himself for forgetting.

She would not have forgotten.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Not really.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely.

Adrien hung up the phone, and stood from the bench.

Nino grinned at him like an idiot.

“What?” Adrien asked.

Nino’s smile only widened. “You guys have gotten pretty close, huh?”

Adrien’s cheeks burned in sudden warmth. “Umm, yeah. I like to think we’ve gotten closer,” he admitted, his eyes unable to make contact for a moment.

He could still hear the warmth in his best friend’s voice. “I’m glad. If you need any help with your next plan, I’m totally willing to help you and the girls out. Just let me know, Kay?”

“Next plan?” Adrien echoed.

“To confess?”

Adrien stared in surprise. Next implied there had been previous plans. How many times had Marinette tried to tell him how she felt? How many times had he missed it?

“R-right! Thank you!”

And then Adrien retreated, Nino’s fond and teasing laughter following in his wake.

…

Ladybug swung into his room and landed softly, his attention immediately on Marinette. She sat at the piano bench with her shoulders slumped and her head hung low. She didn’t turn towards him, so he took a seat beside her, pulling her head onto his shoulder.

“Today was the recital?” he murmured into her hair.

She nodded. “I’m sorry,” she told him, her chin trembling.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he insisted, cradling either side of her face, and for the first time it didn’t feel at all awkward that he was looking at his own image.

“You’re amazing,” she said.

He immediately felt heat blooming in his cheeks, but he looked away, feeling more than ever like he didn’t deserve her praise.

“So are you,” he said.

She ignored him. “You don’t have a lot of choices, and everyone expects so much of you. You’re cooped up all the time. And you could be so angry, but you’re not. You’re patient and you work hard. And you’re just so so resilient. And I had no idea. I had no idea as Ladybug and I had no idea as Marinette. I feel like I’ve been such a bad friend.”

He pulled her into a hug. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” he countered.

“I want to be better,” she insisted, clutching him to her.

He pulled away and searched her gaze.

“Marinette,” he said, taking her hands. “I don’t know how you could be better. Ladybug blew me away on the day we met when she stood up to Hawkmoth, and she made me feel cared for in a way I haven’t felt since my mother died. Everytime you teased me, or cried after I fell to an akuma…”

She snuck a glance up at him, her green eyes glassy.

He squeezed her hands harder and continued because he wasn’t even close to done yet. “And I’ve always looked up to Marinette. And it’s not just me, it’s your family, and our whole class! Everyone loves you because you go out of your way to support all of us, to see us, and to help us find our voice when we don’t have one. I had no idea how much you did specifically for me! Macarons every week? A scarf that you never took credit for, not me mention the dozens of presents you’ve made for me since then.”

Her eyes blew open wide. “You found my presents?!” she screeched, her face suddenly red from her neck to her ears.

He clutched her hands harder.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “It means so much to me that you spent all that time on me. No one-“ to his horror his voice broke and he had to clear his throat. “No one ever thinks of me. Not like that.”

He barely got the words out before he realized he was crying now.  

She pulled him against her chest, and immediately rocked him back and forth. “Did something happen?” she whispered.

He shook his head rapidly. “I have just felt really loved being you. And it’s been a lot. And some of it was for you, but I realized today, some of it was for me. And I just... I never knew.”

She smiled fondly at him. “I’m glad.”

“I didn’t know what a warm affectionate family could look like,” he admitted. “I didn’t know how much Nino works so we can spend time together. Or how willing everyone else was to just offer their space and their time for me at the drop of a hat.”

Marinette smiled again. “Yeah, well, you deserve it. And I’m learning that you need it more than I ever realized.”

He pulled her into another hug. “Thank you,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

“For what?” she asked.

“For everything,” he said. “For being here. For listening. For… being the best partner in the world.”

For loving him.

She giggled. “No. You’re the best partner in the world!” she insisted.

He just smiled, knowing there was no point in arguing, even if she was wrong.

…

[mybg3notebook]

Astarion Analysis

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were made up to the game version v4.1.101.4425. As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information.

“Morals are all well and good, but power always wins.” 

“If all I want is shallow praise? Hardly, there is also gold, sex, revenge, quite the list, really. But failing any of those, I will always settle for shallow praise.”

--Astarion 

The majority of sources used for this article are in the game itself (including Astarion-solo playthroughs) and the dev’s notes and datamined information provided by pjenn. Astarion as origin is (almost) not taken into account since it’s not finished and is highly unpolished. 

The itemised list will show some instances of approval or disapproval as seen in the game. To make the reading of this article easier and shorter, you can skip them since they are basically the proof I use to sustain the introductory concept of each block. 

We can infer a lot of Astarion by analysing what he approves and disapproves of. Sometimes, we can even lightly infer some information from his neutral reactions, but let’s be honest: this way of analysing a char is pretty poor since it leaves everything to speculation. Neutral reactions can only be analysed by contrasting the same situation in other contexts, and seeing what other options Astarion approves or disapproves of. With these considerations in mind, we can proceed to describe this character.

Disclaimer: this is a meta with my personal interpretation of the character, sticking as much as possible to the facts and leaving little to “desires” or “projections” of what I want him to be. If I do so, I will state it explicitly in the text for the sake of analysis honesty. I want to be clear about what is canon (facts shown in bg3 EA), from what’s personal interpretation with little proof.

Also, this list is extensive, gathering as much as I could in my many playthroughs, but I’m sure it’s not absolutely complete. Some details may have escaped to me, but honestly, I believe they will be easily fit in these blocks once the pattern has been seen.

Understanding Astarion by enumerating his reactions

Astarion is usually seen as a character whose behaviour is the embodiment of “randomness”, and after several Astarion-solo playthoughts, I began to see the patterns that showed little randomness in my opinion. 

We can say that he likes gratuitous cruelty and murder. He has a special taste for animal cruelty too. He is greedy, but mostly if it leads to murder or to make little people suffer. Sometimes this greedy side comes from the fact that he doesn’t like to “work for free”: most quests should have a reward for him to be neutral to them. Accepting them without asking anything in return tends to earn a disapproval. He is more reticent to humiliate or outsmart NPCs that may be potentially stronger and more powerful than him. 

[[1]] Situations showing his greed:

He supports the robbery of the fishermen that were helping the mind flayer (MF) after the crash. 

Astarion supports stealing the “magical” ring from the tiefling kid (Mattis). This could be seen also as a gesture of outsmarting a person or mere trickster behaviour (see below).

He supports asking for compensation from the deep gnome we saved at the windmill.

He agrees to force Tulla (dying gnome in the myconid camp) to give you her magical boots.

Denying Baelen the scrolls because “they don’t come cheap”.

He approves pickpocketing Mirkon while being lured by the harpies.

[[2]]Situations displaying plain murder or violence:

He supports joining Lae’zel against the tieflings if you persuade them to free her, since this means killing (which is always an entertainment for him) creatures he considers lesser.

He supports killing Gimblebok and his gang near the Jergal ruins if you avoid any attempt of persuasion. This can be shown as a demonstration of power. (see below)

He supports killing Kagha without trying to persuade her or change her ways, not because he thinks Arabella’s death was an aberration (he enjoyed the show, as his approval and later comment confirm it) but simply because he enjoys murder.

He supports attacking the goblin camp. It’s a great spectacle of murder combined with his personal dismiss towards goblinoid races.

He approves of joining Minthara and massacrating the tieflings. It’s another great spectacle of murder, but in this time, of weak people (He detests weak creatures, and despises Tieflings in general).

He approves of killing Lae’Zel in the scene where she attacks Tav during the night, out of fear of turning into MF.

He approves of killing Rugan in the hideout. 

Still related to this level of violence and cruelty, he supports learning more about Shar once Shadowheart explains Shar’s teachings, all about violence and death, fighting against the illusion of safety.

He approves killing Ellyka, the tiefling spying on the Gith patrol, if Tav is a Githyanki (true or disguised as) and chooses “Attack.”

He approves of helping Glut in massacring the whole Myconid colony.

He approves of sacrificing one of the companions to the fish-people who worship Booal.

He approves fighting the fake god Booal because it’s a massacre; where there is bloodshed, there is Astarion’s approval. 

For the same reason he approves killing the Githyanki patrol: pure bloodshed.

[[3]] Situations of gratuitous cruelty: I understand that a lot of people confuse this trait of his personality as a “trolling attitude”. There are different archetypes of tricksters in DnD, and he is not particularly the silly-funny one (e.i. Jester in Critical Role), but the cruel-funny one. His “pranks” don’t cause annoyance or silly troubles, they usually end up in murdering the person he is pranking, or causing them great pain. What he considers “funny” is always related to a lot of blood and suffering. Examples of this:

He disapproves of diffusing the situation between Aradin and Zevlor after the first goblin attack. He is “missing” his show. This situation is also related to enjoying humiliation of others (see below).

After letting Arka kill the goblin and take her revenge, Astarion will approve the comment that refugees are desperate and they will do anything. He is enjoying the show of despair of weak creatures. And he is also expecting for some of them to become survivalist beasts.

He approves of telling Kagha that you enjoyed the show of Arabella’s death as an answer to her question about if she is a monster.

He also approves of telling Arabella's parents that Kagha will release their daughter when the Rite of Thorns is completed (while Arabella, in fact, has been killed by Kagha's snake). This is another example of Evil Trickster, a prank with a really dark taste. This also shows that Astarion likes to give false hopes [One of the most iconic characteristic of Cazador]

He approves of telling the tiefling kids training with Wyll that they are going to die, inspiring that despair he enjoys to see in weak creatures. (see below)

He approves of breaking Alfira’s teacher’s lute, leaving the tiefling heartbroken because that had been the only memento she got from her teacher, and could not finish her tribute song.

Astarion approves of interrupting the goblinoid couple having sex, which he considers disgusting. After killing them, Astarion will support the idea that it was funny. Another example of Evil Trickster where the prank ends up with the death of the pranked one. But we also know Astarion despises goblinoid races.

He approves of killing Crusher after humiliating him.

He supports Tav who volunteers to torture Liam at the goblin camp.

He supports of laughing at Lorin (the elf trapped in Ethel’s house) after pretending to be the monster he sees (psychological torture). This example can be part of the list of humiliation too.

He states that seeing Mayrina’s horrified face after resurrecting her husband was funny. Another example of false hopes [One of the most iconic characteristics of Cazador] On the contrary, if Tav kills the undead afterwards, Astarion will disapprove, since he missed the “fun” of seeing Mayrina tortured. 

He enjoys every state of Abdirak’s torture upon Tav. This can be seen as a fine bloody show he is enjoying, or as a way to put Tav in a humiliating situation (as he approved the dung-smearing or the foot-kissing instances)

Using the leader gnoll Flind to attack her own gnolls earns his approval. Asking her to devour herself increases approval once more. This situation could also be seen as enjoyment of animal cruelty (since gnolls are considered animals by Astarion too) but also as the reflection of Astarion’s inner desire of becoming a Master of bending wills.

 Probably the most innocent prank so far we saw, he approves of doing Baaa at the redcaps in the Bog.

[[4]] As I said previously, he suports any form of animal cruelty:

He approves of kicking and killing the squirrel Timber in the Druid Grove. According to the dev’s notes, he is “shocked and annoyed” because “you stamped a squirrel to death when he could’ve eaten it.” (DEN_General_Squirrel)

He supports prodding to death the bird that Nettie was healing during the dialogue (you need Speak with Animals for this).

He supports freeing the Owlbear cub at the Goblin Camp, and feeding it later, because he wants to bite the owlbear cub eventually (he uses the word “delectable” to describe him, and when the owlbear escapes, Astarions states “You‘ve scared off the little snack.”)

When we find Halsin in his bear form, Astarion will have two instances of approval: the first one when Tav tells the goblin kids that throwing stones with sharp edges would hurt the animal more, and then when Tav themself joins the goblins in throwing rocks at Halsin. 

We can also add the confrontation with Flind, the Gnoll leader, as another example of animal cruelty since he approves a smart yet twisted way of killing her by double-using the tadpole. First to command her to attack the gnolls, and then to devour herself. However, since Gnolls are considered aberrations lore-wise, this point could be left aside in this particular case. 

If we take into consideration that Astarion sees Goblins, Kobolds, and Gnomes as animals, killing them always increases his approval. This happens when we kill, out of the blue, most goblin NPCs, or simply attack the camp. (Datamined content) He will also approve of killing slave gnomes in Duergar Encampment (place you find after the boat). All these moments can be also seen as “animal” cruelty if we take into account Astarion’s perspective.

He approves of killing Priestess Gut in the Goblin Camp. It could also be interpreted as his usual dismissal towards goblins (he sees them as animals), since he never believed that she could help them in the first place. Or this approval can fit perfectly fine the cruel, murderous aspect of Astarion. As I said, many approvals overlap different aspects of Astarion, but all seem to fit his patterns either way. 

I suspect that the reason behind this particular kind of cruelty comes from those two hundred years of torture, in which he had to drink animal blood. Considering he was such an unfair magistrate, directing his rage against the ones who are not the root of the problem seems fitting. 

[[5]] Astarion is filled with racial bias and prejudices. 

He only sees elves and humans as the only creatures capable of thinking. (Scene after the bite)

However, he has strong biases against a particular ethnic group of humans: Gurs. He thinks they are all cut-throat, and probably would approve the rest of stereotypes that Gandrel added in that scene. (Scene of meeting Gandrel)

He mocks halfling and dwarf Tavs, who he thinks are naturally weak, until they prove him wrong. (Stargaze scene for short-sized Tav)

He supports the idea that tieflings have demonic powers just because of their heritage. (Speaking with the Grove halfling seller). During the party, he compares the lives of the tieflings with the lives of the goblins as something of similar value (which we know he considers as animal).

He sees goblins, kobolds, and gnomes as animals. (Scene after the bite)

After killing the goblinoid couple which was having sex, if Tav choose to say that the situation made them scrub their eyes, Astarion would add and extra “dehumanizing” comment against gnomes. “I’ve seen worse. Gnomes can be… ughh.” (Scene of interrupting sex)

[[6]] He finds pleasure in humiliating people or in outsmarting them, especially if they are trying to outsmart Tav. He dislikes weakness and loves to humiliate weak people in particular.

He approves telling Lae’Zel to say “please” when we met her again in the cage, humiliating her. 

He disapproves of diffusing the situation between Aradin and Zevlor after the first goblin attack. We know he is “missing” his show where one of them is being humiliated.

Astarion approves of telling Elegis that she is pathetic for being scared of a few goblins. Once more, humiliation due to weakness. 

He disapproves of telling Arabella's parents that the Druids overreacted when speaking in the Druid Grove’s stairs. He is disapproving for defending a weak and silly creature who was not smart enough to survive on her own. 

Astarion supports stealing the “magical” ring from the tiefling kid. This is another situation of humiliation of a weak person and outsmarting them. This could be considered a prank of a more silly-funny trickster doing an innocent prank.

He approves of telling the tiefling kids that they are going to die.

He feels disappointed when Lae’Zel did not kill Zorru, the tiefling that she forces to kneel and confess where he saw the Gith patrol. He approves the psychological torture of the interrogation.

He enjoys interrupting the goblinoid couple having sex. This is an example of the prank cruel-funny trickster. This “prank” ends up with the goblinoid couple being killed.

Astarion approves of smearing dung in the guard's face at the goblin camp entrance. The show of seeing someone being humiliated is satisfying.

He supports booing and humiliating Volo off the stage in the goblin camp. 

He supports licking the goblin’s foot (It could also be considered a prank).

He supports kissing the goblin’s foot while stealing the ring. This situation puts two things he enjoys in the same place: the humiliation experienced by Tav and how the Crusher was outsmarted in the process. Astarion will approve if Crusher is the one humiliated and forced to kiss Tav’s foot. 

He approves of laughing at Lorin (the elf trapped in Ethel’s house) when the elf is scared of Tav who pretends to be the monster that’s torturing him.

Humiliating “low people'' is an important aspect of Astarion’s personality, since it’s a small petty pleasure he can have now, when during the last two hundred years it had been done to him. Humiliation has to do with power as well, another symbol tight to Astarion’s personality. Through humiliation Astarion can taste a little bit of power, that power he lacked for two hundred years. That power that, if his backstory is not retconned in future versions or in the full release game, he had before turning into a vampire, abusing those groups he considered less.

[[7]] If we think in power, we also have to think in manipulation. And of course, Astarion is a great master of it. Sometimes the events that stand out his taste for manipulation overlap with the ones displayed in the humiliation section.

Since the moment we meet Astarion, we know he keeps working in turning himself into a pleasant and useful companion for Tav. Astarion knows he has bigger chances to succeed and survive staying with this group. A lot of his “neutral” behaviours respond to this goal: he doesn’t want to enrage Tav to the point of being kicked out of the party, it’s not about a hidden gentle side inside he is showing with an apathetic neutrality, it’s, once more, raw preservation and survival. During the first scenes of the game, when we don’t know he is a vampire, Astarion tries to avoid taking a position in the situations we face: he is just feeling the ground all the time: with Sazza and with Arabella’s death is clear. He doesn’t judge hard, he is testing Tav, he is trying to understand their mind, and acting as pleasant as he can according to what he sees. It’s a natural use of manipulation to guarantee his survival in a group of strangers. During the bite scene—when this façade finally ends—he is truly nervous of being killed for his vampiric nature, and tries to convince Tav of keeping him in the group using arguments that go from seduction to practical usefulness. 

The scene of stargaze also shows his usage of seduction as a manipulative tool to guarantee his survival (he weponises seduction and sex). Although he says mostly the same, he reacts very differently in tone depending on Tav’s approach. If Tav is wary, Astarion will act encouraging their ego and enumerating several feats, while getting uncomfortably closer. If Tav is already interested in Astarion, the elf will use softer manners to keep the seduction into a more intimate tone. This is a scene of a predator tasting his future prey as well (Dev’s notes are pretty clear about his manipulation). In this scene, also, Astarion is light-headed because he has not drunk blood in a while, and has “his head foggy” (something we can repeat during his origin as a personal tag). Exact words he will use as a narrative hint during the bite scene. Therefore, this scene has little of “Astarion falling for Tav”, and has everything of vampiric hunger combined with a raw sense of survival and usage of seduction to guaranteed it.

(potential interpretation) He approves when he is persuaded into sharing his dream with Tav. In any other character, we usually would understand this as an approval for caring about the character himself. In that scenario, failing the approval doesn’t cause a penalty (unless the character understands this failure as prying, as it happens with Shadowheart). In Astarion’s case, when you fail this persuasion, you are penalised with a disapproval. We can understand this in the same way we see it with Shadowheart: this is his annoyance for prying into his personal business. But there is another interpretation in this disapproval: he recognised a bad execution of persuasion as a manipulative attempt, and Astarion is in particular very sensitive to manipulations and mind games (see point [12]). 

Most of his “romance” is manipulation as well, keeping in mind the first point of this section: he becomes pleasant for Tav, using whatever shape he needs, so he can survive (this is especially noticeable with a good-aligned Tav). Astarion has weaponised seduction and sex without any hint of subtetly for the player (As the Dev’s notes say: “For Astarion, this is a game of power - one he’s played many times before in the taverns of Baldur’s Gate, trying to lure people back to his master. He’s an old hand at seduction, very self-assured at first, but the player might not go along with the script he expects them to follow.”) We can assure that Astarion will find more satisfaction in having “fun” with a high-approval Tav rather than a low-approval Tav.

If Tav is not evil enough (and therefore has a low approval), Astarion will need to be the one inviting Tav to have sex (to be sure the control is still in his hand, still pushing for “catching” Tav). If a low-approval-Tav invites Astarion, he will decline saying that he “has standards'', implying he needs to be the one controlling the situation (he is basically playing “hard to catch”. Astarion already knows that he “caught” Tav in this scenario since Tav was the first one showing their interest). If Tav is evil-like (and has enough approval), Astarion will not only weaponise sex, he may express some degree of personal desire in having “fun” with Tav. After all, evil characters can like one another. In this case, he would accept Tav’s invitation for more hedonist reasons such as personal pleasure and not mere survival. Still it’s always present the layer of using this situation as a manipulative tool to have control on Tav.

Approves persuading Crusher without a fight, understanding it as an approval earnt for the good manipulation tool used. Of course this scene is combined with the natural approval that Astarion gives when outsmarting creatures he considers lower or animal-like (See point [6]). 

Successfully persuade Lae'Zel to "play along" when meeting the Githyanki patrol, and pull off the deception.

I personally found funny that Astarion, without the intention of the writer, is so good in his manipulations, that he broke the fourth wall and ended up manipulating a good amount of players as well into believing him. 

[[8]] He supports revenge in all its forms and degrees, which is not strange since it’s his main motivation against Cazador.

He approves of letting Arka kill Sazza in the cage as revenge for her brother’s death.

He approves of the attack against Nettie when she poisons Tav.

He approves of telling Edowin's siblings to find the beast that attacked him as a way to avenge the True Soul.

Astarion approves of Arabella’s mother killing Kagha at the party.

He approves of helping the Sovereign to take revenge against the Duergars that killed their young. However, it’s not clear if Astarion approves the revenge itself or the method proposed, which is, according to his own words, “a bit genocidal” and therefore more entertaining for him (we need to remember he enjoys the display of murder and violence in all its forms, [2,3]). 

He approves of helping Glut in massacring the whole Myconid colony, since according to Glut’s words, they saw Glut’s circle being killed by the Duergars and did nothing, so Glut is looking for revenge. 

[[9]] He doesn’t like to get involved in anyone’s problems unless you can obtain a benefit or a reward for it (this is directly connected to his greed aspect [1])

He approves of telling Mayrina’s brothers that they are on their own, and actively disapproves if Tav agrees to help them find Mayrina.

He approves of declining to help Halsin in killing the Goblin leaders.

He disapproves of helping Wyll to save the Tiefling refugees in the Grove.

He disapproves of helping Zevlor.

He disapproves of finding evidence that confirms that Kagha is working with Shadow Druids. He will additionally disapprove again if, after exposing her, Tav asks her to change her ways. From Astarion’s point of view, Tav is basically meddling too much in the Grove’s problems for free, and ruining all the instances where murder could happen. 

He also disapproves if Tav agrees to help the two Zhentarim humans that are attacked by gnolls without asking for compensation.

He approves of not getting involved in the rescue of the Duke when Tav speaks with Florrick

[[10]] Despite having been a slave, he lacks of empathy for those who shared his fate and, instead, he supports slavery:

If we take into consideration what Swen said about his background in one of the first playthough he showed, we know that Astarion, as a magistrate, used criminals as food for local vampires, and in an attempt to outsmart them, he began to sell them into slavery (we can see in this brief background that Astarion has been greedy and cruel before turning into a vampire).

Although he disapproves paying for Oskar, the painter in the Zhentarim Hideout, he does it because of the money. When Tav buys the painter and demands him to stay silent because “slaves should speak when they are spoken to”, Oskar will think this is a joke (which is not the case, since none of those options has, in this patch at least, a (performance) tag). When Tav reinforces the idea that this is not a joke, and Oskar is now a true slave, only then, Astarion will approve. 

When seeing one of the servant Duergars of the Myconite Colony, Astarion will comment on how useful they are, and how Underdark drows should learn about these creatures, since these slaves are more efficient than the standard ones. If Tav brings awareness about the contradiction that those thoughts cause coming from an ex-slave, Astarion will justify his thinking saying that they are husks without mind, claiming that his feelings “may be different, had they been conscious beings. Or maybe not.” He emphasises in this dual possibility. And we can be sure that he certainly would not care slavery on conscious creatures, as we confirm it later with Oskar (A human who is not a Gur, and therefore, a creature that Astarion consider thinking acceptable beings). 

(Datamined content) When reaching the Duergar Encampment, once Nere is rescued, there is approval for killing the slave gnomes when the True Soul orders it. One can interpret that Astarion minds little for these slaves because they are gnomes, and therefore, animals.

[[11]] He looks for power and dominance, to have control over others and also as a way to guarantee his own freedom. 

In the discussion after every dream, Astarion supports the use of the tadpole's power in every opportunity, dismissing their effects. He is thrilling for the ability of bending everyone’s will (curious note, this is one of Cazador’s characteristics most hated by him)

He approves of letting the Koa-Toes bow before them as the Booal's chosen. This scene can be understood as a typical prank of a trickster, but also as a taste for being adored as a master/entity with more power. This scene shows that he and Tav are placed in the “Master” position. This reinforces the idea that Astarion wants to be a Master/Cazador, eventually. (Check post about Astarion and Power 1 and 2)

If Tav claims that the worship to them as True Souls can be useful after letting Edowin’s siblings leave, Astarion will approve. He shows in every instance more delight for having Cazador’s powers, making emphasis in the mind control ability, again.

Astarion approves of keeping the Necromancy of Thay tome. As we see later in his scene, he believes that there is something powerful hidden in it that may help him against Cazador. He wants to muster all the power of any kind he can.

Astarion approves of sparing Auntie Ethel’s life when she surrenders during battle because she will grant them power in exchange. He wants to muster all the power of any kind he can.

[[12]] Astarion is particularly sensitive to mind control. His expressions and the tone of his voice against any type of mind control are filled with feral ire (video here): 

He is angrily affected by the movements of his worm in his own head, 

He screams against Ethel’s control when using the mask, 

The insults at the harpies when he is lured, 

The way he is annoyed by the telepathic spores in the Underdark, 

He disapproves failed attempts of persuasion (understood by his character as failed, obvious attempts of manipulations). 

And, potentially, this is the reason why he disapproves of Priestess Gut cleaning Tav’s mind.

[[13]] Because he likes power, he also likes the demonstration of power whether his own or his allies’, therefore he likes most intimidation options in general

He approves of intimidating Gimblebok and the gang near the ruins. 

He approves of intimidating or provoking both Aradin and Zevlor at the Druid Grove.

At camp, when discussing preferred methods of death, he approves if Tav tells him "If I die, I'll take you with me." (after first picking "Try it and I'll spill your guts") . He also approves if Tav chooses a method of death (decapitation, knife, poison). Both options show resolve, strength, and freedom in deciding one’s fate. Since Astarion died at the hands of strangers, he values the freedom of choosing how to die. He will disapprove picking the option of letting others decide your death.

He approves if you intimidate the mirror into allowing passage.

[[14]] He is a survivalist character, and therefore, a lot of his approvals are related to elements that will guarantee his life, such as looking for his own freedom, the acceptance of his vampire nature, and the encouragement in looking for strong alliances or keeping alive strong individuals that can be useful as allies. 

He approves of being accepted with his vampire nature and allowing him to feed on Tav’s blood. He keeps approving if Tav defends him during the exchange of opinions in the camp. 

He approves if he has permission to feed on enemies. 

He approves of killing Gandrel. This approval is also mere raw survival.

He approves if during sex, Tav allows him to drink their blood. 

He disapproves of promising Nettie to take Wyvern Poison if you feel symptoms of the Tadpole, since it goes against his survival instinct.

When Lae’Zel is killed by the Gith patrol, he will state in banter that it was a waste since Lae’Zel was a powerful/strong specimen, so clearly he is lamenting the loss of a powerful ally. 

Despite appreciating his freedom, he has explicitly stated that he “would choose servitude over oblivion any day”, showing how extremely survivalist he can be.

[[15]] He likes to find a solution to their tadpole problem using unconventional ways, or at least, using options that may lead him to the twisted solution he needs (which is not exactly being cured of the tadpole, but to control it, he certainly needs more exceptional means)

He approves of telling Auntie Ethel about the tadpole in the Druid Grove simply because she “looks lunatic”.

At first, Astarion disapproves of Raphael's invitation to remove the Tadpole, claiming that he would not change one master for another. However, when the situation starts looking dire, he will approve of the idea, because anything “may be better than Cazador” adding later that he “would choose servitude over oblivion any day.” 

A bit contradictory when he was the first one claiming that Raphael used mind games similar to Cazador’s, games they know they have won before starting.

[[16]] He has a “soft spot” for helping people to escape their masters or killing/rejecting people that can be seen as Masters. However it’s requirement that those escapees could be seen by Aastarion as strong and capable creatures. He would mind little for creatures he sees as underlings. (Weak concept, seeing it with squinted eyes)

He approves of helping Karlach to get rid of the Tyr followers, since they are in fact working for Zariel, Karlach’s previous master. With all what Karlach explained about her past, she certainly qualifies as a strong person who is trying to get rid of her master.

He disapproves of Tav who tells Raphael that they would do anything to remove the Tadpole. This is probably resounding in Astarion: his past bad choice when he was at death's door due to the Gur attack and Cazador appeared to “save” him. He knows that going to that extent has poor results.

Astarion approves of Tav if they say that they won’t become Raphael's pawn (conversation in the camp after the encounter with Raphael). It’s true that when the other options narrow, Astarion starts to consider the possibility of changing a vampiric master for an infernal one.

This post was written on April 2021.

→ For more Astarion: Analysis Series Index