#i'm still alive i've just been playing bg3

[lazylittledragon]

finally joining this party

[happy-beeeps]

Naïveté

Summary: Astarion begins to reconcile with the fact he might have fallen for you, only to worry you've caught an interest in someone else. Earllllllly act 2, minor spoilers for act 2!

Pairing: Astarion x f!tav

Warnings/tags: fluff, miscommunication if you squint, jealous!astarion, platonic!wyll x tav, slightly ooc Astarion because I'm still learning to write him so be nice PLEASE😭🥺

WC: 2k

a/n: I'm finishing a character sheet for tav so we can have her backstory, but she's who I've been using this playthrough and I've been really enjoying her story. When I post on Ao3 she'll have a name, but I'm going to leave her unnamed here! Also, will have a seperate BG3 spot on my masterlist soon!

It’s late at camp, and by the time you finish indulging in a bottle of wine with Karlach, you figure you’re the only one still up. It’s been a long night, and an even longer few days, spent trudging through the grimy depths of the Shadowcursed lands and just barely making it out of the encounter with Marcus alive. Isobel had given you the ability to travel freely, but all you could do was set up camp near the inn.

The firelight is dim when you make your way back from the secluded spot near Karlach’s tent, and Astarion’s tent is sealed tightly. You contemplate going over, just peaking your head in to see if he’s deep in trance yet, but you change your mind. After your previous night’s conversation, you’re still not sure on speaking terms. It plays out over and over again in your mind. Naive, he’d called you, your heart was too big. 

You tried to be reasonable. You were naive. You were young, and perhaps no one but Wyll new exactly how young. To be ninety as an elf was to be just becoming an adult. No one else had known, no else had asked, including Astarion. You chalked it up to his truly immortal lifespan, he hadn’t cared about aging for 200 years, why start now?

Still, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt to him, or the thrill that shook your bones when he would quietly rush into your tent each morning, murmuring the incantation for lesser restoration. You still thought of the way he looked at Gale when he asked to consume that locket all those days back. “I’m glad you let him suffer for a moment, darling,” he’d murmured into your ear that night, his breath tingly on your neck, “That one’s ours.”

There’d been other nights since your first night together, while you hadn’t slept together in completion since, all passion and teeth and sweat. Sometimes you’d just kiss him, wrapped up in nothing else but this bliss of arms and scent. Lately though, he’d been closed off—distant. His conversation the previous night had come out of nowhere, as if you were standing on the doorstep of Moonrise Towers that very instant. 

You were so lost in your own thoughts, consumed of Astarion, that you nearly missed Wyll’s form standing near the dimming fire, moving around in a dance you actually recognized.

“I hope I’m not interrupting practice,” you smiled, giving the man ample warning before you stumbled into his rehearsal. 

Wyll wheeled on you, a faint blush growing across his cheeks. “It’s one of those old courting dances, it’d be a cold day in the hells before I’d ever forget them.”

“Oh I’m quite familiar,” you murmured, thinking back to your own youth, your own debutante ball, before you lost everything. “Everyone else around here forgets I come from taste.”

Wyll snorts, “Sure don’t smell like it.”

Your friendship with Wyll is a special thing. No one else can understand what it felt like to be from a Noble family, the expectations and the experience it comes with. When your family had been killed and their wealth assumed, you were completely on your own. Learning how to pickpockets and lie had not been a part of your expensive and tasteful education.

Dancing, however, came second nature.

You move to stand in front of him without really thinking, decades of experience guiding your motions. “Go on, let’s see what you can do.”

He’s a fine partner, moving cautiously around you and guiding your hand easily. Even when he brings you closer for a slightly more intimate dance, his hands nor his eyes never stray. 

“I wonder what I’d have done if I ever saw you at one of the balls my father sent me too.” He murmurs.

“I’m certain you did. Though you would’ve been young. I haven’t been in nearly a decade.”

He chuckles, and clucks his tongue for a moment, “Just practically a baby, far to young to approach Fey nobility.” Before bowing in front of you and wishing you goodnight. There’s the smallest beat where he looks at you as if he has something to say. You look at him for the smallest moment. It would be so easy to love him, if you were anyone else. He’s exactly who your father would have picked for you, save his humanity. But, despite it, you can’t. You can’t fake the flutter you get when you Astarion’s cold hands tickle your fingers, or the tickle of his hair on your cheek when he’s pressed against your neck. You’re not naive enough to admit this to Astarion, but from the fleeting glance you send to his tent, you can see that Wyll already knows. He leaves you with a knowing glance and a soft goodnight. You go back to your own tent, happy to have removed the thought of the curse, of Ketheric, and even of your own problems for just a moment.

So full of contentedness in fact, you don’t notice the scarlet eyes peering at you from the slat of their tent, a whirlwind of emotions cascading over them.

* * *

Astarion doesn’t hide his mild disdain for Wyll, or anyone to be fair, to begin with, but the following morning he bears down on the man like an ogre. “I didn’t anticipate you being quite so light on your feet. The Blade stands at the ready, and also ready to pirouette, I suppose?”

Wyll rolls his eyes at Astarion’s quip, used to the sarcasm, but somewhat surprised at the intensity of the rogue’s grip on his arm. “Wasn’t aware I couldn’t have past times.”

“By all means feel free to entertain us with a ballet in between slaughters,” his voice hushes as you walk by, looking at the two men skeptically, “I’d just prefer if your duets didn’t happen whilst I’m trying to read.”

Wyll follows Astarion’s slightly fleeting to his retreating gaze. You’re standing behind him, out of earshot, leaning against Lae’zel’s tent while she sharpens your sword. Astarion’s stare is enough to allow him to piece everything together. “Can I give you a word of advice?”

“Only if you accept that I may ignore it entirely.”

“She’s wonderful. And she’s made her choice without giving anyone else a chance. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste it, wouldn’t kill you to get to know her.”

Wyll walks away, and Astarion is left alone again with his thoughts. Contrary to Wyll’s belief, he thinks it might actually kill him to get to know you. He’s been balancing precariously on his fight to not let himself be fully consumed by you and your grace, your goodness. You were a spoilt little thing, he was sure of that, and he had meant what he said that night by the water. It didn’t mean it hurt his chest more when your face fell. “Naive?” there was a crack in your cool, crafted facade. Genuine hurt had settled there for a moment, and something akin to disappointment. He hadn’t known how to face you since, hadn’t known how to say “I’m sorry! I’m falling for you and can’t help it and I’m terrified!”

So instead he said nothing at all, and resolved to say something later.

* * *

You had just gotten back to camp for the night, Karlach nearly giggling at the amount of gold she had stuffed in her pockets from the tollhouse. You had noticed Astarion’s eyes on you, heavy and pensive, when you had dealt with the Master of Coin, how easily you’d convinced her to simply cease to be. That was perhaps the easiest transition from nobility to rogue you had, the gift of a silver tongue and wide, batting eyes.

You changed into your camp clothes and watched Karlach throw gold pieces at an increasingly irritated Lae’zel, Gale standing nearby doing his best to keep spirits high in this eerie camp, working with whatever cured meats and cheeses you still had to attempt to make a dinner. You had changed into camp clothes and grabbed one of the books you had found in the tollmaster’s office, a shockingly smutty romance novel that had to be even older than you. It was quiet in the corner you found, somewhere even Halsin’s booming laugh had faded into quiet background noise. You tried to not think about your surroundings, about your increasing frustration with Astarion, or the odd way his gaze had hung on you all day. 

“I’m always impressed by that tongue of yours, petal.” The vampire’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and he settled beside you on the ground, arms behind him as he reclined easily next to you.

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, and the pet name. “Yet you’ve been leaving me and my tongue to our thoughts the past few days.” You huffed, flipping the book to the next page, though not really reading any of it 

If Astarion could blush, he looked as if he would. “We’ve been a bit busy darling. I’ve been…strategizing.”

“Strategizing?”

“Precisely.”

The quiet overtook the two of you. After being so distant, if he didn’t want to come to you, then so be it. You could not—would not–crack first. He could not even begin to know the bubbling furnace of your feelings, or you’d be positively done for.

“How old are you?”

His question strikes you, strikes you enough that you set the book off to the side and face him. “At what point did you start to ask me questions?”

“When I realized I had done something to anger my favorite companion,” his fingers reach out and trace small patterns on your skin. “How old are you?”

“Ninety.” Your voice moves to a whisper at the end of the word, and his eyebrows quirk.

“Only ninety and yet alone. And Balduran?”

“Yes, but I haven’t lived there since I was seventy five.”

“Something happened,” he rocks upward, now sitting nearer to you. “You weren’t supposed to be like this.”

“Perhaps that’s why I’m so naive.” It comes out more bitter than you meant, but oh well. He deserved it.

“Naive wasn’t the right word,” he looks like he’s fighting himself to turn out the next sentence. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

You smile softly, laying a hand on top of his. “I don’t know if I believe that, but I appreciate the apology.”

He grins, his deep set smile lines settling in your favorite way. “Tell me about your childhood.”

You shrug, “There’s not much to say. I was an only child, an only daughter. I used to play the lyre, learn languages, paint–”

“You come from nobility.”

“I sort of thought it was obvious,” you shrug and tap your knee against his, “I wasn’t supposed to be out in the middle of a campground, much less learning the ways of a rogue.”

“What were you supposed to be?”

“A wife, I guess.”

“And while I’m sure suitors everywhere are devastated, I much prefer my rogue.”

My. You don’t say anything and neither does he. You let the word hang there, testing to see if he reaches back to grab it, but he doesn’t. It gets quiet for a moment after that, and you can see him spinning the illusion in his head. You, swathed in organza, spinning around a marble ballroom, entertaining suitors. 

“Is that why you danced with Wyll?”

“Ah,” you smile and rest your head on his shoulder. You love these fleeting moments of intimacy, where you can both pretend to be nothing more than lovers on an adventure. “So this was spurred by jealousy?”

“As if I have anything to be jealous over Wyll. He wishes he looked half as good as me.” His words lack their normal bite, and he turns his head softly, so he’s speaking quietly, just to you. “But perhaps in the future you’d let me take you for a spin.”

You press your hand against his on the ground. “You need only ask.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

There’s so much more you both want to say, confessions on the precipice of both your minds, but you say nothing. You idle together a touch longer, hands resting against each other, pretending neither of you can get hurt, envisioning a world where it’s him spinning you across the dance floor in a world where you could have each other.

[zwolfgames]

Idk, but I think bg3 reader would try to leave the group, if they know about their yandere personalities, lol. Please, your bg3 works are so good. I expect the new one

(So, not a continuation of the last drabble. This is hypothetical for now. Also it deleted my answer the first time :( so this is try two, it may seem a bit rushed. And I got a bit off track, woops.)

Warnings: mentions of yandere stuff I suppose.

Y/N in this au (aka teen tav) really isn't stupid, sure they grew up in a village with just their mother and pulled random spells out of their ass like a true sorcerer, but they're not stupid.

The party started with variable reactions to a minor in the group. Act 1 doesn't showcase a lot of Yan tendencies due to everything still going kind of fine and everyone getting to know each other.

The yandere part really starts in act 2 when they enter the Shadow cursed lands. Unlike the normal region of act 1 are the Shadowlands riddled with danger.

The party quickly gets their wake-up call after things like Kar'niss (who gets his little momemt) and the other bosses and dangers. Katherine Thorm, being a threat, also doesn't help ease the party's feelings.

The group would go from silly to way more protective in act 2. But Y/N can't do anything about that yet. The shadows would eat them alive, or someone else could get them. Better left with unease rather than dead, right?

I've purposefully mentioned Y/N's mother in the drabbles to show the main goal of the reader, which is to return to their mother. This goal is being held back by a party of people who no longer seem intent to part ways with you once this is over.

Sure, Y/N wanted their cool adventure with heroes like Wyll Ravenguard, but staying with them permanently? Haha... no.

So after the wake-up call of act 2, Y/N would take their chances at escape in Baldur Gate. The thing is, though, Y/N isn't from Baldurs Gate. They don't know the alleys like the back of their hand in the same manner that Astarion does. They didn't grow up playing in the secret passageways like Karlach...

This is a dangerous game you're playing. The more you wiggle, the tighter their hold. It's just how it goes with people who have faced enough to lose it.

They handle you in different ways, of course.

Wyll, Gale, and Halsin strike me as the type to have wanted to protect this poor kid from the start, so their resolve just strengthens to unnecessary levels. You wouldn't mind just being carried to bed by a bear man, would you? He knows some good elvish lullabies.

Lae'zel is her own separate category, she's a githyanki, they have very diffrent ways then most folk on faerun. I'm basing her motherly ability on the prologue where she raises the gith egg. She may not be affectionate, but she does not want you out of sight. Expect training.

Karlach and Astarion surprisingly go together here. They don't seem like the parental type. More of an aunt/uncle. Would try and stay your friend. Guiltripping from Karlach that she may or not be aware of herself, and straight up manipulation from Astarion. They both had a bad past. You can stay, right? As a little gift from the gods?

Shadowheart didn't like you from the start, not a fan of kids. Her yandere strikes a lot later. First, she had only been worried about your health as a cleric. After her arc at the end of the shadow cursed lands (freeing Dame Aylin etc) she gets a bit of that parental feeling nonsense too. Though I'd say she shows it the least. You'd be tricked easily into thinking she's the only normal one in the party.

Minthara, I'm unsure if I can find a good way to let her join, but she'd be similar to Lae'zel, just crueler and definitely bot secretive about her want for your stay. If you ask her directly, she'd just plain out and say that if she catches you, you're getting bound.

Jaheira, natural mom, she's got kids, protected the kids. Don't expect her to be sweet, but you're definitely not going out of sight.

Minsc joins in Act 3, so really, he doesn't have the time to get to know you, he's funny, you're funny. Friends. Not that the rest appreciates the time you spent with him. They're scared you're gonna make up a talking animal next.

All in all, Y/N would try and escape. It just isn't very likely to succeed. If you get far... well, there are other beings out there still after you, you know?

Just forget your mom. Aren't they better family now? Your mom didn't teach you spells, did she? Or swordplay? Maybe how to make balms?

Cmon, they're the best option. Stay.

Just an answer lol, hope i didn't make anyone too OOC with just this. Xd.

[lunabo17]

If the World Was Ending

Title from song "Die With a Smile" by Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/63805048

Astarion wakes from a nightmare of Gale dying, and has an anxiety attack. Thankfully, sometimes nightmares really are simply bad dreams and not reality.

This week has been rough with anxiety, so have an angsty one shot. It ends happy

P.s. Also been playing BG3 Stardew Valley mods,Baldur's Valley.

P.P.s. Yes, the farmer is Gale, and yes, there is a backstory as to why there are 2 Gales. Shhhhh.

Warnings for anxiety, followed by sweetness.

---

Baldur's Gate was on fire, Ilithid and other creatures attempting to stop them, but their party kept moving, kept fighting. This close to the end, they would not stop, unless they drew their last breath.

It felt like it was just the two them, the others a simple blur in the background. Gale raised his hand, cupping his face gently, tears in his eyes, like tiny diamonds falling to the ground. Astarion felt his stomach tighten, and he took a breath.

"Don't," he said, breathless, wavering to a near sob. "Don't do this. You can't do this!"

"I love you," the wizard said, and suddenly, he was far away, on nearby cliffs, watching as the sky lit up, like the sun had just risen, but in shades of purple and blue, and spreading. He screamed, knowing that Gale was dead, that he had detonated the Orb. Gone...he was gone! He left him, after he said he wouldn't. And Astarion...

His eyes snapped open, body tense. If his heart still beat, he knew the tempo would be quick, pounding. His throat felt tight, his stomach knotted, and he felt as if he had been crying, but his cheeks felt dry. Astarion sat up, and the spot beside him was empty.

"Gale?" He whispered, his hands touching the cold bed. "Gale?" He said louder, his voice breaking as the panic swept in, his body beginning to shake.

"Astarion?"

Wide-eyed, Astarion looked in the direction of the voice, the sound of a book slamming shut loud in the quiet of the night. Gale scrambled to his feet, his eyes nearly as wide as the vampire's as he moved to the bed, sitting close.

 

"You're...you're alive..." The elf whispered, gently touching Gale's cheek. "You're alive..." He realized he must have fallen asleep for once.

"You must have had quite a nightmare to become so rattled. What happened, my love, other than my untimely death?"

"You sacrificed yourself," Astarion said, while one hand bunched up Gale's shirt. He closed his eyes, seeing again the darkened night become day, but the image was beginning to fade. "Gods..."

Gale scouted closer, ever so gently pulling the vampire close, their cheeks touching. "Thankfully, I changed my mind on that particular idea, and decided it was far better to remain by your side. I'm here, my love. I'm alive. You're alive. We're in Waterdeep, and our wedding is in three days."

"I feel like an utter fool," Astarion murmured, his shoulders finally lowering as he relaxed, fingers gently combing through his hair.

"I don't think you said that when I had my own nightmares, Astarion."

He pulled back a little to look at Gale. "It felt so real. I could feel...despair, eating inside me. I could feel the tears, my sobs, making my breathing short and quick, which really should have been an indication it was a horrible dream and not reality..."

"I've had nightmares like that, too. When you're in it, it is as if it truly is reality."

"And then when I woke up, you were gone."

Gale winced. "I apologize. I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep, so I decided to read a little to see if it would help. I suppose the stress of the wedding must be getting to us."

Astarion didn't reply with words, simply stroking Gale's cheek. The wizard leaned his head into the touch, a smile on his face.

"I couldn't continue to live without you," Astarion confessed.

"Don't say that," Gale whispered, tears filling his eyes. "I'm sure you'd find a strapping, young lad..."

"Don't," he snapped. "I know you're trying to joke, but there won't be a 'strapping, young lad,' or a beautiful lass, or whatever you decide to come up with. I don't want anyone else, just you. Now and forever, and if you die..."

"When."

"If you die, because I will find a way to tie our lives together, then I'll end my miserable existence. We'll meet in the afterlife, and we'll remain together. Please don't cry."

Gale took a shuddering breath, the tears spilling down. "And you accuse me of being an impossible romantic! You can't just say these things, and not expect me to react."

With a sigh, Astarion leaned his head against Gale's neck, the scent of books and ink calming. They shifted even closer, wrapping their arms tighter.

"Do you think it's all the wedding's fault?" Astarion asked.

"After all the work we've done, in addition to our jobs, I imagine it's quite normal to feel some nerves for such a large event. Are you reconsidering?"

"After all your talk of the lovely robes you purchased, and the flowers, and food, including the ones for vampires? Absolutely not! Also, your mother would probably stake me."

"She most certainly will not! I wouldn't allow her to kill you. Do you feel a little better?"

"I'm a little cross that nightmare rattled me as it did. I sleep for the first time in quite a while, and of course it had to be plagued by horrid dreams."

"It would have been better if they were milder like mine as of late, though I admit I've had my fair share of nightmares concerning your death."

Astarion gave a hum of acknowledgement; he remembered holding Gale close after those particular nightmares, ones that had become quite frequent before Cazador's demise.

Carefully, they shifted back to the center of the bed, their limbs tangled. Astarion laid his head on Gale's chest to listen to the steady beat of his heart. "What exactly have you been dreaming of, darling?"

Gale chuckled, a deep, sleepy sound. "Silly things, like showing up naked in front of my students, mayhem at the wedding, the guests not showing up..."

"Might not be a bad thing," said Astarion softly.

"Mother wouldn't kill you, but I fear Karlach most certainly will if she doesn't get to see us wed. It's all she talks about. Not even Shadowheart's chickens are distracting her.

"We'll just run, and never look back."

"Well, all right, I suppose, as long as I'm with you."

This time, Astarion chuckled. "It wouldn't be so bad, traveling the planes as Karlach and, most likely Wyll, chased after us...as long as we're together. I love you."

"And I love you. Now and forever."

They settled then, and Gale finally drifted back to sleep. And Astarion was sure that it didn't matter what the future held, as long as his wizard remained in his arms.

Now, and forever.

[xpao-bearx]

This is dedicated to the absolutely beautiful hooman bean @basketobread 💕 They are truly one of the best people I've EVER met and has such a kind, wonderful heart!!! Furthermore, all of their artworks are literal ✨️MASTERPIECES✨️ They and their works are a constant source of joy for me and I just got inspired to write this very short, very simple fic of my BG3 Tav and their much beloved character Lunara meeting 🥰 It's not much, but I hope y'all like it and I hope even more that I did Lunara's amazing character justice! This is also my first time writing my Tav in a story format so it's great practice and an opportunity to flesh her out more before I post my fic of her and Astarion :)

More about my Tav here + this is the song she's singing in this story (and fun fact: I headcanon the singer to be my Tav's voiceclaim!) ❤️

Fic is under the cut and thanks sooo much for reading!! \(^o^)/

Darkness consumed the drow cleric's entire visage. A darkness that reminded her of her past in the Underdark; a waking nightmare she miraculously escaped, forging a path of her own, under the light and guidance of her Lady of Silver.

But this time, she feared that this smothering darkness would be...permanent. She could feel herself blinking, yet only blackest black and the stinging prick of her tears greeted her. She felt the ground beneath her and she doesn't think she broke any bones--or so she hopes--but she couldn't move. There was a looming heaviness in her chest and ice gripping at her heart.

Is she...dying? Eyes fluttering shut, she's resigned to her paralysis, but has not given up hope.

Because fuck that, she's most definitely not a quitter.

"M-My Lady of S-Silver..." She murmured, weak in physique but ever strong in her faith. "P-Please watch o-over me, h-help me overcome..."

She hasn't the faintest clue how long she stayed like that, strengthening herself in prayer, though eventually her ears perked up at the sound of...footsteps?

Something--or, rather, someone--sat next to her. She heard some shuffling then the soft strum of a lyre being played and a beautiful, soothing voice reverberating in her head.

"Flower, gleam and glow

Let your power shine

Make the clock reverse

Bring back what once was mine"

As the mystery songstress continued, she could feel power coursing through her veins, slowly but surely. She blinked once more and faint spots of light danced amidst the shadows.

"Heal what has been hurt

Change the Fates' design

Save what has been lost

Bring back what once was mine

What once was mine"

She felt her fingers twitching, toes wiggling; and, like a flower blossoming, she rose. She let out a sharp gasp as she sat up, chest still heavy but not as excruciating as it was before.

She's alive.

She blinked rapidly, perfect vision returning. She had hardly a moment to gather her bearings when someone's voice rang excitedly.

"Holy hells! I'm so glad you weren't, like, completely dead! Good thing I saw you just in time!"

Her gaze landed on the young woman before her. A half-drow with a smile as bright as the sun and mismatched eyes (one, she noticed, being a rather unusual blood red with a prominent scar across it). She was pretty--ahem, very pretty, might she add--but looked worse for wear. Something she was sure she looked, too.

Before either of them could say anything else, a migraine hit them both like a spiked club. They both cradled their heads in their hands, fragments of a hellish nautiloid swirling in their minds, waiting for the pain to pass and their eyes meeting in recognition.

When it finally did, the stranger piped up once more.

"Oh, wow, we're parasite pals!"

Despite the situation of it all, she laughed. A welcoming warmth radiated from the strange stranger, enveloping her and easing the tension of all of today's utter bullshit. From being kidnapped by godsdamned Mind Flayers to being infected by a disgusting parasite, she laughed and felt comforted that, at the very least, she was not alone.

"Indeed we are!" She grinned before holding her hand out. "Thank you so, so much for saving me! My name is Lunara and you are..?"

The stranger beamed, shaking Lunara's hand and her other hand making a theatrical waving gesture. "Mon'sun, at your service, fair maiden! Perhaps you've heard of me, perhaps not. The tale of my titillating life is still being written, you see~"

'Ehe. TIT-illating.' Lunara thought to herself, letting out a small chuckle before clearing her throat. She was a toootally mature adult, after all.

"Well, Mon'sun, Selûne's blessings upon you!" Lunara did a half bow, mimicking Mon'sun's theatrics which Mon'sun definitely approved of. "Besides your incredibly kind and gracious act of saving me, I'm positive my Lady of Silver led you here for a reason. What say you we band together and find a cure for this parasite?"

"Oho, asking to team up so fast? I would say take me out to dinner first, but I'm pretty easy sooo..." She joked, making a show of thinking before gasping dramatically, pretending to cry tears of joy. "Yes! A thousand times yes!"

Lunara just as dramatically placed a hand over her heart, sniffling. "Thank you! I promise to make you a happy woman!"

As they both stood up chattering and laughing away, preparing for the thrill of adventure ahead, Lunara noticed she was missing her coin pouch.

"Have you seen my coin pouch? I could've sworn I had it tied tightly around my waist, so there's no way it could've fallen off after the nautiloid crash." Lunara questioned as her purple eyes darted around their surroundings, ash and smoke rising from all the debris.

"Perhaps it burned away from the flames of the crash." Mon'sun replied smoothly, helping Lunara seek for her humble riches.

(Pssst, Mon'sun is lying and has Lunara's pouch in her pack, but she rolled a Nat 20 on ✨️deception✨️ sooo...)

"Well, nevermind then!" Lunara shrugged, smiling. "I'm sure our Lady of Silver will grant us great blessings for our journey. In fact, she has already bestowed upon me a most wonderful blessing in the form of a kind, trustworthy new friend!"

Narrator: *As the two drow kin embark on their perilous quest to free themselves of their parasites, a haunting voice echoes deep within the recesses of Mon'sun's mind; her own parasite. One of a different, godly breed taunting her--tormenting her.*

"Do you wish to find comfort in the presence of another inferior god, spiderling?" Lolth cackled, cruel music flooding Mon'sun's ears, vicious mockery only she can hear. "Such foolishness will only bring about disappointment...much like your new companion. But I am here, spiderling. Always watching. It is only a matter of TIME for you to bathe in her blood."

Mon'sun abruptly stopped in her tracks, shutting her eyes tight, nails digging into the palms of her hands that nearly drew blood as she willed the spider goddess to not so kindly fuck off. She was used to this by now, the lure of Lolth's appalling temptations always merciless, sickening, and...gratifying.

But no. She will never ever give in. Absolutely fucking NOT!

"Are you alright, Mon'sun?"

Mon'sun's eyes snapped open, sweat beading down her temple and wide, frantic eyes landing on Lunara, a few feet in front of her staring at her in concern.

"...I forgot!" A beat too late, a beat too nervous. But thankfully, Lunara didn't seem to notice it, only watching in curiousity as Mon'sun rummaged through her pack that was literally ripping off the seams.

Mon'sun then procured a small purple pouch, smiling sheepishly as she handed it to Lunara.

"Apologies, friend. I stole picked this up earlier and just remembered it now. This must be yours, yes?"

Lunara caught Mon'sun completely off guard when she launched herself at the other girl, wrapping her arms around Mon'sun.

"Oh, our Lady of Silver truly blesses me! Thank you, friend, your kindness knows no bounds!" Lunara giggled.

Mon'sun was still for a few moments before returning the embrace, laying her head against Lunara's chest. Her bardic ear listened close, the faint thrum of Lunara's heartbeat--as lovely as its owner--lulling her to a wonderful sense of security.

No matter how temporary.

[lutethebodies]

Rainy Day Rambles #12 & 35

It's raining outside and I'm waiting for a freelance client's contract and payment to go through, so I think I gotta make this Tumblr Brain Dump time. Wallpaper images are of this blog's main couple because some of it is about them. Long incoherent thoughts below the cut.

Getting Lost in Sunk Costs

I'm kinda souring on the idea of writing this fanfic anytime soon, if at all. Perhaps I overhyped it when I first had the idea. Regardless, it hasn't progressed much, and I think I may have had the wrong motivations to want to write it. One was feeling like my interpretation of a certain character wasn’t as legit because that interpretation had few or no fics associated with it. Now, that may actually be a great reason to write one for some folks (and that’s fine!). But of course something doesn’t need to be fanfic-ized to be a legitimate interpretation or enthusiasm. 

And I honestly think I’d be better at telling (such as analysis, which I think I've done well on this blog) instead of showing (creative fiction, which I don't do beyond shiposty skits) what I’m interested in when it comes to these things. That only applies to writing, though. I’m way better at songs/lyrics (or writing about songs/lyrics) and designy things than fiction. I once wrote and self-published a novel, which was a really long and tough process and was then wildly misinterpreted by people who should have known better. (The best thing about it was its cover and soundtrack.) I kinda don’t want to deal with all that again.

The other poor excuse for motivation I thought of was sort of a sunk-cost thing. All of my enthusiasms tend to result in me responding to them in creative original ways. I've responded to music I've loved throughout my life by learning to play instruments, write and record songs, play in groups with others, and produce live shows. I've responded to my favorite commercial fiction with the aforementioned novel/soundtrack. I've even done that with hobbies, responding in this decade to all the time I invested in D&D by creating a fantasy atlas and then writing/recording/releasing seven songs by my favorite original character. (I've flogged the latter two here many times so I'll spare my mutuals the repetitive links.)

I think I'd unconsciously (and then consciously) been trying to come up with a way to creatively respond to the substantial time and thought I'd invested in BG3—something I fell into under very specific circumstances, despite being indifferent to video games for decades—and I thought a fic would do that. Creating my own heroes in D&D was one thing, but in BG3 they get to move and (sometimes) talk and fuck! That warrants a serious response, right (don't answer that)? Never mind that I've already had a lifetime of wildly disparate and dubious attempts at plugging into various communities both online and IRL (all long stories for other venues and times). And never mind that I've already responded (maybe as much as I should have) with not only one remake of an old song but also this entire blog.

So I guess the sunk cost fallacy was alive and thriving at LTB HQ when I thought I'd write a fic. And a few of my very kind mutuals said they'd read it. But I think I've gotta shelve it for now (and maybe forever), and I think those folks will understand. I'm just not sure it's the best way for me to express what I want to about my beloved OCs, especially because it wouldn't (to me) feel 100% original. Not in the way my fantasy atlas does, at least—and that has the added advantage of being these OCs home turf, because outside of BG3 I really don't prefer the Forgotten Realms. I know none of that has to matter with fic, I get that. But I'm just not feeling it. It's not something the muse requires of me. 

I could make it a song, though…

And Now for Something Completely Different

Conversely, I'm still pretty amped for BG3’s upcoming Photo Mode. I know it's been promoted in hilariously salacious ways, but I'm actually looking forward to creating images of my blog's first couple (or any of my other BG3 ships) that aren't kiss- or sex-related. Not to be a prude or anything, because I don't think sexy images (or the people who love them) are bad, and of course this site is primarily fueled by such things, but at my point in life I feel like I want to create images that represent couples with more than cutesy puppy love going for them.

Now, I know that a couple needs a whole lotta cutesy puppy love at the beginning for their relationship to endure through decades of everything else that goes with being a couple. I guess I just find it repetitive, especially when there are so many other ways to convey a relationship's mutual affection, commitment, loyalty, etc. I was only half-joking with posts like "Hecklers Beware," you know? 

I've never commissioned sexy art of my characters and/or the infatuation-stage of their relationships because none of my OCs are actually shipped together in their original 5e incarnations, and I no longer feel compelled to share much about what and who they do that with in, say, BG3. Also at this point it kinda feels private, in that nobody else on here needs to see that—and depending on the character/ship, substantial amounts of people do not want to see that. I dunno. The times that I did do lots of "look at my pixel dolls in love" posts now seem like overcompensation for preferring a particular character ship that still feels relatively uncommon in that character's niche fandom. That might be a very silly thing to believe considering I've rightly spilled many pixels encouraging people to believe the exact opposite.

But like I said, I may have had the wrong motivation. There's a particular kind of knee-jerk, reactively defiant behavior that comes from insecurity, and I'm trying really hard to not indulge that in any context. I have a weakness for melodrama—I've been extremely susceptible to it in the past, both online and off—and constantly worrying about what other people who'm you've never met think about you is no way to go through life. Anyway this all feels quite convoluted—and while it's still worth posting, I think I'd better stop, not least because I have Actual Work to do today. So thanks for your patience. My OC posts/deep dives/shitposts/one-offs will continue as dictated by the muse. If it's compelling for me, it won't be bullshit for you.

[haru-sen]

Through the Gates of Horn and Oak

Caught the BG3 Brain Rot AND a deep love of the tieflings, hithero referred to as "my cabbages!" No, seriously, I've been screaming about them like the guy from ATLA.

Anyway, WIP preview, playing with some Tav X Zevlor, which will eventually be some Zevlor X Halsin, and maybe some poly dynamics. Look, I just want to poke sad old men with a stick and then feed them cheese.

This preview has light spoilers for early Act I side quests. I have not beat the game, I'm still in Act 3, so please be mindful of spoilers. This is spicy but not explicit.

“How do you do it?” you grumbled, perched on a crate and resting your forehead on the cool stone table, your eyes closing as you reviewed your day. “From harpies, to bugbear assassins, to evil druid-controlled child-tormenting serpents, how do you keep these people alive? I mean, honestly, Zevlor, I’ve only been at it for like a day, and I’m exhausted.”

Zevlor, the tiefling-wrangler in question, gave a dry humorless laugh. “You assumed it was easy?”

“No,” you muttered. “I’m just gobsmacked by the sheer variety of ways they get into trouble. You have my deepest respect and my most heartfelt sympathies.” You stayed facedown while you spoke, which might have detracted from the authenticity of the delivery, but alas.

About a meter away, Tilses snorted. “Have you met Mol yet?”

“Have I met Mol?” you laughed, and it might have been a sob. “Have I met the future legendary patron of the Thieves Guild, you mean? Have I met a force of chaos constrained in a tiny tief package? Have I counted my purse half a dozen times today? Where do I even start?”

Zevlor groaned, clearly not interested in delving into that subject.

Tilses laughed. “You should have seen the time she-”

“Tilses, it’s getting late: you don’t have to stay,” Zevlor said.

“But-”

“Tilses, it’s getting late: you’re dismissed.”

You didn’t need to use your illithid powers to read the subtext in the room. Small talk aside, Tilses didn’t want to leave Zevlor alone with an outsider. Zevlor, however, didn’t seem worried. It could be that he thought you were trustworthy, but it was more likely that he knew that it didn’t matter if she was here. If you decided to turn on him, her presence wouldn’t make a bit of difference.

You could picture his expression easily, that no-nonsense frown, accentuated by the severity of his hellfire eyes and sharp ridged bones. He wasn’t exactly scary, but he had a quiet dignified gravitas that you and Tilses lacked; the kind of man was used to being in charge. Still, Tilses wouldn’t argue, not with you here.

“Understood, sir.”

Military discipline was a hard habit to shake, or so you heard. You smiled as you as her steps faded in the distance and the stone door grinding open and shut. And then there were two.

“I don’t blame you for Mol,” you said. “Obviously, the circumstances are shaping that one, and it would take more resources than you, me, or the entire Grove has to alter her trajectory.”

Zevlor sighed. “...I don’t think I’m capable of discussing Mol’s future right now.” There came a soft grunt and you didn’t have to open your eyes to know that the tiefling was sitting on the table across from you, just a few handspans away. If you lifted your head, he would probably move away, so you stayed there, the slight dissonance of his aura making your ears ring. You didn’t mind though. Things that might have bothered you a week ago couldn’t really match up to a godsdamned mindflayer tadpole swimming through your brain.

Some tieflings possessed a discomforting presence, akin to knowing you were being stalked by an apex predator, or that feeling of something alien crawling across your skin, or that screaming gut instinct that warned you when truly dark magics were abound. It was an involuntary inheritance, a side effect of being part devil, or at least having their human bloodlines tainted by a Hellish pact. But you knew better than most that biology didn’t override character.

Zevlor was a striking model of an Asmodeus tiefling: deep red skin, sharp features, and a pair of thick black horns twisting out of his skull. From what you heard, that strain got well and truly screwed over by their progenitor devil lord’s plotting.

“Would you like something to drink?” A cork popped and there was the clink of metal cups sitting on the table.

“Is it poison?” you asked. “Because I’ve got some lovely wyvern poison of my own. No need to dip into your personal stores.”

“That would be a poor repayment for all the help you’ve given,” Zevlor said, his tone mild.

You didn’t think he was offended. Hard to say. He was difficult to read, unless you decided to use your illithid powers, but then- People didn’t like it when you did that. You didn’t always like it when you did that.

He poured the drinks, and you slowly raised your head, lured out by your own dry mouth.

Zevlor was standing now, he gestured to the uncorked bottle, which sat beside the cups in front of you, all of it available for your inspection.

“Ashaba Dusk?” you asked, sniffing the common wine.

“It’s not so bad,” he said.

It figured that he liked red wines. You wondered if he smoked a pipe too. “You seem like the type to prefer a Gulthmeran Reserve.” It was a dryer red, complex with stronger mineral taste. Something suited for the palate of a stoic older man.

Zevlor’s lips twitched. “Is that so?”

“Am I wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say “no” to a bottle. But finding one out here might prove difficult,” he said as you chose your cup, pretty certain that none of it was poisoned. After all, they still needed your help dealing with the goblins, defanging Kagha, and rescuing the Archdruid. Logic made rationalization easy, even though you had no logical reason to be here alone with this man.

The wine wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. You drank it though. Today had been long, and you weren't going to turn your nose up at his hospitality.

The two of you finished your cups and sat in an almost comfortable silence. Your shoulders lowered incrementally and you basked in his calm company. You were on your second round of refills before he spoke again. “Was there something you wished to discuss?” he asked, fixing that burning stare on you.

Your stomach flip-flopped, but you just raised your cup and took a drink, buying yourself a few seconds to compose your words. “Just enjoying the ambiance.”

His brow furrowed, and he looked around the cave, clearly trying to figure out what you were referring to. The air in the chamber was cool, there were a couple shelves lined with books, and the candlelight was warm and golden. There were no fleshpits, no bloodstains, and nothing was trying to kill you. Best of all, you could not hear Shadowheart and Lae’zel bickering. To be fair, Lae’zel sniped at everyone, but Shadowheart got so damn shrill about it.

“Look, my...friends are nice and all, but sometimes they’re a bit much,” you said. “I’m taking a break from being mediator.”

“Ah,” he said. He rested his chin in his hand, thoughtfully. “I can lend you the chamber. Would you like some privacy?”

You winced. “No, no, I’m enjoying the company too.”

“I see,” he said, brow furrowing momentarily. He refilled your cup, sitting on the edge of the table farthest from you.

You studied the map of Elturel on the desk, while sipping your unpoisoned wine. And then a thought occurred to you much too late. “Oh gods, I’m intruding, aren’t I?” you groaned. “Look, don’t feel obligated. I’ve found a ton of great hiding spots in the Grove. I can take a dip in the sacred pool. There are some very private corners in the library. Hell, I can even go camp out with Mol.”

“...Don’t do that,” Zevlor grimaced.

“You’re right. She absolutely doesn’t need access to wyvern poison. I’ll go sit with Dammon. Aside from the hammering and the smithing, he’s pretty quiet.”

You’re not intruding,” Zevlor said, forcefully. “My hosting skills are simply rusty. I...welcome the chance to practice.”

“Oh,” you said, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It wasn’t a believable reason in the least, but it did seem that he wasn’t trying to shoo you out. At least, you felt more confident that you were not unwelcome.

Zevlor studied your face. “How do you find Dammon’s company?”

“He’s a good kid and so cheerful in the face of everything that’s happened. I’m impressed by his attitude and his skills,” you said. “He’s helping me keep my tiefling in good shape.” Karlach was a certified badass, but she still needed extra special care. Gods, now that you thought about it, tieflings were like exotic fish, it was a real struggle to keep them alive.

Zevlor nodded. “We’re lucky to have him.” He set the empty bottle down and looked over his shoulder at the worn down storage crates, clearly considering the state of his supplies. He was a lean man, and while the kids were small, it was clear that the adults weren’t letting them go hungry. He likely didn’t have a lot to spare.

“Oh! I’ve got a bottle of Ithbank in my pack – the good kind.” You quickly dug into your bag and pulled it out. You were considering trying to bribe Asterion with it, but honestly, he would probably just turn his nose up at the unimpressive offer. You rummaged around your supply pack and found some cheese wedges, ham, a loaf of sourdough bread, and the treasure you scored while exploring. Looking around furtively, you pulled a small ripe sunmelon out and winked. “I know everyone is eating apples, but I’m sick of things trying to poison me-”

“You’ve mentioned poison very frequently today. How often does this happen to you?” Zevlor asked, looking concerned.

“Well, just this week-” You tried to think back. “The bandits, the goblins, some traps, the swamp apples, Nettie-”

“The healer?” Zevlor sounded alarmed.

“Yeah, because of the whole parasite infection thing,” you muttered, the wine loosening your tongue. Only a select few knew that you were carrying mindflayer tadpoles, and he was one of them since you had to explain to him why you were able to just walk into the Absolute camp without raising the alarm. “Look, the point is, I’m put off apples for awhile.” You pulled out a clean food knife – not a dagger, people applied all sorts of deadly coatings to their weapons – and eyed the cheese.

Zevlor rose and brought over clean plates and more cutlery. There was an economy to his motions, a careful precision to everything, no wasted movement. No tells either. This man tried to keep his cards very close to his chest.

It was very different from the first time you met, when he was shouting orders and coming down from the post-battle fury and the loss of one of his charges. Rage uncoiled all those carefully suppressed feelings and destroyed self control: you understood that feeling all too well. The contrast was interesting, you liked watching him.

You made a nice little plate cubes of cheese and ham, slices of bread, and cut your half of the melon into long wedges. Zevlor made a neat sandwich and chopped his melon into bite-sized chunks. This time you poured the Ithbank while Zevlor watched.

He took a sip. “This is nice. Thank you,” he said quietly.

“It really is,” you smiled, biting into the melon and getting some down your chin. The flavor was honey sweet, the flesh luscious and crisp under your teeth. You happily licked your fingers, slurping down the juice. Fuck, these were so much better than apples, and absolutely worth fighting a bunch of bandits for.

When you looked up, Zevlor was staring down at the table.

“I’m being messy, aren't I?” you muttered, wiping your mouth off. The heady combination of too much wine, sweet melon, and the company was making you sloppy. “Sorry.”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Zevlor coughed and poured himself some more wine, averting his eyes. He carefully bit into his melon cubes. His tongue flicked out and he licked his lips, closing his eyes. “That is delicious,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, his tail swishing behind him.

Satisfied that he was enjoying his fruit, you devoured your slices too quickly, eating them down to the rind. When you looked up, Zevlor was only half finished, clearly taking his time and really savoring the experience.

“These are better than apples,” he said, glancing down at your empty plate. He speared a chunk of melon and extended his fork. “I don’t know if I can finish all this though.”

A damned lie if you ever heard one, and between Wyll and Asterion, you heard a lot of creative truths. You took a swig of wine and met that burning gaze, your breath catching. “I’ll take a bite,” you said. “But you clearly aren’t eating enough. You really should take better care of yourself, Zevlor.”

You leaned forward, delicately took the melon between your teeth, and pulled it off the tines. You gave the utensil a light parting bite, never looking away from Zevlor’s face.

He swallowed audibly, but his hand did not shake and he did not draw back. He just watched you with narrowed eyes, his jaw clenched, those sharp nails digging into his palms, his tail snapping from side to side. That tension was familiar. You remembered a similar strained look back when he got into a confrontation with that asshole mercenary. Maybe you were pushing him too far.

“Have I offended you?” you asked a little sheepishly. You did just take his food from him while insinuating that he was bad at taking care of himself.

“No,” he said gruffly, his voice an octave lower. “But are you going to claim that you don’t know what you’re doing?”

You smiled, lowering your eyes in amusement. “I’m just enjoying the ambiance.”

Zevlor gave a low exhalation, those orange eyes burning intently as he regarded you. “The situation is difficult enough,” he said, his voice harsh. “Hells, teasing an old man is cruel.”

You blinked. “I’ve seen you fight, Zevlor. I’d hardly call you old.” You met his gaze. “And teasing is only cruel if one doesn’t intend to follow through.” You stood, the wine giving you a cocksure recklessness that you would not possess sober. You leaned over the table, nearly nose to nose with him, baring your teeth in a grin. “I’ll deal with Kagha tomorrow. We’ll figure out the goblins after that. And then, if you’re still interested, let’s do something about it.”

Zevlor stiffened, his eyes widening, his lips parting in shock.

You took a swig of the Ithbank, and slammed it down next to him, lifting one of those calloused hands to your lips. You brushed your mouth against the inside of his wrist and then caught his index finger between your teeth. You sucked it down to the knuckle, tasting the blended salt and sulfur of his skin and the sweet stickiness of the melon. The heat of the digit made you want more than this, but you had to be careful with those sharp nails.

Zevlor’s nostrils flared, those brimstone eyes burning as he gritted his teeth, your name a hoarse curse in his mouth.

“And if you’re not interested,” you said, lowering his hand gently. “That’s fine too. It’s entirely up to you. We can just blame the wine.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and left, before you did something really stupid. It didn’t matter though, the fire was already in your veins and the taste of him lingered on your tongue.

Fic posted on AO3 now.

[catt-nuevenor]

Same person who sent the initial bg3 ask here! I absolutely love your analysis of Shadowheart! I agree with you about her big act 3 choice (trying to be vague just incase others don't want spoilers). I was surprised that the majority of online opinions I've seen argue that the other choice is the better ending for Shadowheart. I just want her to be free and happy—even if the journey to happiness is rocky lol.

"It's the same bg3 person again b/c I also love gushing about this game and I ran out of room lol. As far as starting a Dark Urge run, I 100% have to recommend romancing Astarion. Though, it's 100X better on a run where you decide to be good and resist the urge. It's actually surprisingly wholesome and low-key so much better than romancing him as a normal Tav. He's surprisingly supportive and there's so many great moments where you talk about resisting and becoming better people together."

---

Glad you enjoyed my responding gushing and rambles. I do think the framing of the last scene with Shadowheart's questline perpetuates a lot of the opinions on her parents alive being the better option. I suppose it's neater too, since the game ends a relatively short time afterwards and unlike BG2 we don't get long epilogue cards describing what happens in the long term. No chance to see the full consequences of what being the unfortunate plaything of a vindictive goddess does to a person.

"I felt the wound last night, while you were sleeping. Like some sadistic child, de-winging a fly."

A lifetime with that isn't one I'd wish on anyone.

Onto the Dark Urge playthrough. Astarion and I have a hate/tolerate relationship. If I could lean wholly into the darker options (to get Astarion to the point of liking the Main Character enough), or a straight romance, I'm sure it would prove very entertaining, especially from what I know of the events and 'incidents' involving the Dark Urge. As it is, I was planning on romancing Lae'zel.

I'll popcorn my way through Astarion's excellent personality and romance through the medium of Youtube in the end, I suspect. Tens of hours, even with a quick playthrough of BG3 (I've never been good at speedrunning games), is a long time for me to 'play straight' or otherwise cuddle up to a chap if I had someone other than a female main character.

I will forever adore Astarion's response to Araj (the drow potion lady) in the city:

Araj: "Ah, and the heart-stopping bloodsucker. I hope you've changed your mind. My neck is yours, any time."

Astarion: "And I will keep refusing until the end of 🎵time🎵!"

But we make snarky allies at best.

The end of his questline makes me overall begrudgingly fond of him. Like a great fluffy Persian cat that you just know is going to take the utmost pleasure in biting you, but you still let snuggle up to you regardless.

[gale-dekarios]

5, 27 and 34 for game asks!

hiiiii :DDD thanks for stopping byyyy

5. Most memorable gaming moment?

oh, absolutely the githyanki creche fight from bg3.

everybody was dead except astarion, who was a thief subclass rogue. you don't need to know the subclass except that they get two bonus actions instead of one.

everyone except two githyanki melee fighters were still alive. instead of doing the normal thing and reloading, i decided i was going to see if i could pull it off just with astarion.

what i ended up doing was, i'd get astarion to use a bonus action disengage, bonus action dash, sprint to the opposite end of the room, turn around and shoot them with his bow or a fire bolt. they would then be forced to use a full action to dash towards him because they had no ranged weapons, and would have to wait until their next turn. the problem with this plan is that they could never reach astarion to actually hit him, but also their AC was high enough that astarion, especially without sneak attack advantage or damage, very rarely hit them. meaning i spent a whole HALF HOUR running around that one fucking room with astarion and these gith only sometimes hitting them and doing the tiniest amount of damage when i did.

i managed to KILL THEM, and i WON THAT FIGHT, only to get caught in the vlakiith "kill the person inside the artefact" cut scene, and i had one spell scroll of revivify left. which meant after ALL THAT, i had to reload anyway.

big L for charlie.

27. A popular game that you just can’t get into.

animal crossing. i really dislike slow milestone/farming games. same with stardew valley. i find that kind of thing really really boring. repetitive stuff really grates me, it's why i'm kind of stuck trying to finish dragon age inquisition because i know i need to wrap up the companion stuff, but thinking about "go to this place, pick up thing", "go to this place, kill this person", three, four, five times in a row, it just reeeeeally puts me off.

and the thing is like, i've played animal crossing, in fact, im pretty sure i still have a good 30 or something hours in it. but that was mainly because i have friends i played it with that had been playing it for years upon years and they really helped me blast through a LOT of the upgrades really quickly, but i mainly treated my island as a way to piss off one of my friends who really likes her place to look nice and organised and for everywhere else to look nice and organised (and cute), but after a while doing bits like having as many toilets as i could scattered around my island and stealing as many flowers as i could from hers didn't justify the amount of fun i wasn't having playing the game, and so i stopped.

what's downright hilarious though is my rng in that fucking game because despite not giving less of a shit about it, apparently i have at least... three...? incredibly rare campers on my island at any given time (apparently) (i wouldnt actually know but thats what they said, and they seemed pretty shocked about it so.)

but yeah, resource management, organising, farming, slow gain milestones, no clear, structured story, repetitive gameplay, it's like everything i hate to be in a game all in one.

34. funniest gaming moment

not sure if this means something i did or something that happens in a game that i find funny, either way, the amount of inside jokes i have about assassins creed odyssey's alexios with my friends are insane, (all of which are non sensical both with and without context), and the eagle bearer shoving the cyclop's obsidian eye up a goats anus still catches me off guard and makes me lose it every single time.

[chronoxtreme]

The Cage - Chapter 18 Author's Notes

First of all, here's a link to the chapter in question! CW: Discussions of a relationship with power imbalance, discrimination based on sexual anatomy So, fun fact - everything with Yurgir was not in the original, second or even 4th draft of this fic (and when I mean draft, I basically mean "attempt to think this monster's details out," not an actual draft). Chapters 17 and 18 were supposed to be one chapter, but migraine + insane wordcount + me getting a new position at work basically nuked that idea. So I split it in two, and honestly, I believe it's for the better in terms of pacing.

Nanne's whole "I don't like to use charm-like magic" comes from seeing Da use it on other people. Friends was that guy's favorite cantrip, and while it can get you what you want, it can also burn you. Nanne's much less risk adverse than Da, so they avoid it. Enhance Ability though is fair game because it just makes you better at certain things.

The "homicidal hat trick" line by Gale is a shout-out to Mistborn, one of my favorite book trilogies.

And then we get to the second "twist" of Nanne's backstory: Maria. This is a part that wasn't in my first stab at writing Nanne. Originally, they had no experience with sex or romance at all. However, I realized that them having some romantic history gave them a lot better motivation for their behavior around Astarion pre-seduction. At the same time (and this was unintentional) their experience with Maria became a foil for Astarion's sexual encounters with patriars.

I also put a lot of myself into that story. I'm transmasc nonbinary, and when I wrote that scene, I wasn't out to anyone, including my husband. Thankfully, he's been extremely supportive of me and my identity, but it took a lot of courage to talk about it with him. It's extremely difficult to come out to people who have a certain expectation of who you are. Writing about Maria's rejection was a weird sort of catharsis.

It was also a story where I wanted it to be messy, especially from Nanne's POV and how they describe it. Nanne had zero intentions of having a relationship with their employer, it kind of just... happened. And while it was doomed to failure from the start, Maria was attracted to them. There was a "chance" of it working out. That's what makes it really sting, in my mind. It was problematic at best, coercive at worst, and Nanne wasn't in the wrong - but for so long, they've lived with an emotionally immature parent constantly talking about how difficult it was to raise them, the sacrifices, the burdens, etc. and that gets to you. So naturally, if something goes wrong, it is their fault. Finally, the song! This section ended up being a lot shorter than I expected it to be, but honestly, that's another thing that I've been working on in the "this is for me first" category: not being afraid to release chapters with wildly differing lengths. Yes, it will happen again, that is a promise lmao.

Like the Dawn is one of my favorite songs on the planet, and when I listened to it after playing BG3, I realized that it perfectly described Nanne's thoughts about Astarion in the sunlight, and the rest was history. This is a moment that I could rewrite a thousand different ways and still never be satisfied because how in the world do you write about a person SINGING without it coming off awkward as hell? In the end, I think it worked out okay. I'm not satisfied, but I'm content.

Nanne's using Faerie Fire here, because if bards can use singing to do magic, why not do magic to enhance the singing performance? I've always loved fic/media that's used the world's magic system for stuff like special effects in performances and plays - it makes the world feel alive and Nanne is a bard first and foremost. The bigger the spectacle, the more coin they get. Is there a bit of illusion magic thrown in? Maybe. Hey those Weave lessons with Gale paid off!

Astarion running off was also not in the script but it turned out that way. I don't think it's a bad thing for him to keep feeling guilt. I do worry that it comes off as repetitive and cyclical, but in my experience that's how guilt works in real life. You feel good, you forget about it, and then someone says or does something, and it all comes crashing down. It's tough... and next chapter's gonna be even worse lmao.

[loyal-logik]

// Just popping in to say that I'm still alive! I know I've not been active lately. I've been shadowing for a new job, and I've just not really had the muse to be on Tumblr (blame my hyperfixation on getting into photography and playing BG3). Threads will be replied to whenever I feel the desire, I've learned not to force it anymore. In saying that when I have the muse to be here, I might go through my threads and clean some out. I'll let you all know tho ❤️ Thanks for being patient and sticking by me 🤟

[fals3nd]

fuck it i know no one else has info up but i've been playing bg3 and thinking about her so. meredith connar cheat sheet.

in game terms - level 10 life domain cleric, level 5 champion fighter. hermit background. high wis & str, low cha & dex. inventory to note is a powerful artefact called the hand of healing, a cloak of protection, goggles of night, and a belt of hill giant strength. feats are keen mind, spell sniper, and war caster. 22 ac, 129 hp.

orphan found on the steps of a selûnite temple, raised by a cleric named tamora connar. always has been trying so godsdamned hard to be worthy, to feel and hear selûne in all she does. was sort of a wayward, scrappy kid who had trouble following any sort of code. spent a lot of time reading and trying to feel the moon maiden's light through her childhood up into her late teens.

at around eighteen she had a dream, showing her an abandoned and ruined temple out in the wilderness. there was an ancient relic inside, an important one, and one meredith felt sure selûne herself wanted meredith to go find and protect. meredith set off on her own the very next morning. spends the next several years of her life first seeking this artefact, and then finding and protecting it.

runs into the whole elturel was pulled into hell thing on accident. she was in baldur's gate looking for tamora when she instead came across an adventuring party set to try and bring elturel back. it seemed like a worthy mission, and meredith felt that otherworldly pull to go along as well. so she did.

long story short ; meredith, a hellrider named ingrid, a tabaxi named bizarre rock, a tiefling named khiall, and an aasimar named diana go into avernus. it's awful. it's brutal. it, at many points, appears to be impossible to make it through.

meredith unfortunately becomes interesting to cultists of the dragon they meet throughout avernus. these cultists seek the very artefact meredith has sworn her life to protect ; it is a metal hand, made of shining silver, that ends at the wrist. tiamat herself wants it. meredith will not let that happen.

winds up having to fuse the artefact to herself in a last-ditch effort at remaining alive. in a bloody battle, all of her party members had fallen and were near death. meredith only had one option remaining, and it was to slice off her hand in the heat of battle and replace it with the artefact she had spent the last several years of her life protecting.

the hand is powerful. it can heal several people at once. it can shoot beams of pure moonlight. it can repel the undead. it can likely do far more than meredith even knows. but every time she uses its power, the silver creeps further and further up her arm - her body grows colder - her mind more exhausted.

i'm not going to detail the entirety of descent into avernus for you all right now but the champions of elturel become just that. they lose khiall in the process, as he becomes a being known as proxy to a powerful sword. they win. they pull elturel back to the material plane. they pull zariel back to herself, if only for a moment. they are venerated as heroes. meredith's arm is silver up past her elbow, and she takes the opportunity to slip away from her celebrating friends and vanish into the night.

there are still cultists of the dragon after meredith, and now that she and the artefact are one in the same they want her.

[pheonyxian]

Baldur's Gate 3 Sexless Any% Part 3

I think some of my mutuals are using this as an actual way of knowing what BG3 is actually about so I figured I'd use this edition to talk about the plot and npcs a bit. Might slow down or stop these at some point? I thought the original premise was funny but I don't know if it's liveblog an entire 100 hour game funny. Regardless feel free to block the tag I'm adding if you don't want to hear any future rambles. Do love/hate it when a game I didn't intend to like so much gets its grubby mind flayer tentacles wrapped around my brain so hard.

The OC PC: RPing through the game as my OC Ank. I wasn't sure if picking an oc with strong psychic powers would rub against the mind flayer plot but so far it's been a perfect choice. Ank is traditionally a villain but I'm not playing a villain for my first play through, so it's been fun to rp him in a scenario where he's g o o d and his life didn't take a turn for the worse. He's also traditionally blind, but obviously the game isn't set up for that. I was originally just imagining cutscenes playing out differently if sight was involved, but maybe it'll be more interesting to consider him in a pre-blinded state. I'm sure certain repeated actions in the ocular region won't have any u n f o r t u n a t e effects.

Mind Flayers: The setup for the plot is that mind flayers have infected you (and your companions, and a large number of npcs) with mind flayer parasites and you have to remove them before you turn into fully grown mind flayers. Except for some reason you haven't turned yet and you get cool psychic powers with them.

The Guardian: In addition to making your own character at start, you also can character create your "guardian." Everyone I know just hits the randomize button because they've already spent an hour fussing over every detail of their character, but I knew this was coming and already planned my guardian out. And uh, like I said, Ank's traditionally a villain and the only guardian-like character he's ever had is uh... I'm going to be honest with you, if the guardian turns out to be the big bad of the game that's going to be funny as all fuck. I'm sure there's very little chance of that though, it's not like there's anything evil about telling you to s h o v e w o r m s i n t o y o u r s k u l l.

Withers: Withers is more of a mechanic than a character. I do want to know his story though. He's an undead or lich or something who will revive dead characters (for a cost) hire generic undead companions (for a cost, I guess if you want to resign your poor companion's unfortunate fate) and change your cast (for the same cost as undead friends.) I guess money still has use in the afterlife. I haven't had to use his services yet but I've had a lot of close calls and dwindling Revivify scrolls so it's only a matter of time.

Volo: Just Gale but a bard. Not a playable character Bard mind you. At least not yet. I don't know what his deal is. He offered to extract the mind flayer parasites with a pair of needles which I almost agreed to to see if he'd actually poke Ank's eye out.

And updates on companion stories:

Shadowheart: Decided that after a week of traveling and nearly dying together it was appropriate to breach topics again. Pretty sure the game expected me to ask these immediately once the option was available but like I said, we respect boundaries in this house. Anyway, Shadowheart's a cleric of Shar, who by context I'm assuming is bad. The way she put her worship didn't sound that bad, about embracing the darkness as a way of stripping falsehoods, right up until she started talking about toppling governments and killing innocents, so I'm keeping her at a 2/10 for being batshit insane.

Also her magical artifact is required for keeping me alive and she stole it and do we really want the e v i l cleric to have that kind of p o w e r over M E?

Lae'zel: Lae'zel sits at the very strange crossroad of honorable and completely ruthless. She's totally fine with killing your enemies but you have to do it the right way, and b r a i n w o r m s isn't the right way. I'd say the right way is whatever works. 7/10

Gale: All of my attempts to pry into Gale's backstory (boundaries? what boundaries?) were foiled by poor dice rolls so no updates on his dark and traumatic past. I did give him two magical artifacts to slurp up because he looked like he was going to die of heat stroke at camp. I've been avoiding spoilers but I had heard that it's hilariously difficult to not accidentally romance Gale due to a bug, and the fact that you can start his romance path without realizing it. Thankfully Ank is smart enough to realize that when you cast spells together that makes the air smell like rosewater it's time to high tail it out of there. 2/10 as smooth as a slip n' slide.

That said, I don't know if it's been patched yet, but according to the internet there's like a 50/50 chance the game thinks we've already banged. Tbd on that one. Sexless any% is slowly turning into Oops! Fucked Everyone thanks purely on technicalities.

Astarion: Based on the way people talk about him I genuinely thought the pompous personality was just a facade and that he'll eventually tip his hand and reveal he's been evil this entire time. But honestly based the bits of backstory he's (refreshingly, compared to the rest of these idiots) given out I think he's just the guy who, once given the keys to power, will drive right off sanity road. Regardless, he used to serve an abusive vampire lord so I guess we're going vampire hunting in the future. 10/10 bad influence gay best friend who tells you to chug and shove parasites up your eyes.

Wyll: Wyll is a warlock who serves a fiend that forces him to hunt down and kill demons, which sounds like a fine deal until some tricky wordplay came in. After refusing to kill Karlach (Tiefling, not demon) his patron changed him into a Tiefling too. Honestly? Upgrade. 6/10 nice guy but surrounded by more colorful characters.

Karlach: Ok here’s why Karlach is a 10/10 character even without taking sex appeal into consideration. She’s a Tiefling who served in some demonic war against her will and had her heart replaced with an infernal engine that constantly burns her and anyone she touches with searing hot pain. Despite this she has constant big sister energy and her biggest complaint is how touch starved she is. I don’t even care if it comes bundled with a sex scene, Karlach is getting a goddamn hug before the credits roll.

[dany36]

after ~165 hours, i finished bg3. i can't believe i almost missed out on experiencing this gem of a game. a couple of months ago i started watching john wolfe's playthrough of it, and after i made a comment about it to a friend once i got done watching the first act, he convinced me to play it on my own. and holy shit i'm glad i got to experience the entirety of act 2 and 3 in my own playthrough of it. i usually stay away from turn-based games because i don't consider myself very good at them (i think i can count on one hand the number of turn-based games i've played let alone finished), but wow, this game just blew me out of the water. when i watched the game awards last year where it won all those awards including goty, i looked up gameplay of it since i knew nothing of it, but the turn-based aspect turned me away from it. still, it was funny seeing all those bitter losers saying that z/elda should have won goty instead, to which i can't help but laugh even HARDER now to think that anyone would even THINK that t/otk even comes close to the fucking chulada of a videogame that bg3 is. honestly? top three of my favorite games ever. (spoilers below)

i mean, i usually post my thoughts as i'm playing along, reacting to things and such. but this game consumed me like no other game before had, and like, what is there to say that hasn't been said before about bg3? i honestly can't think of any big criticisms i have of the game. i knew nothing about d&d before starting it and i still had such a fucking blast playing through every single aspect of it. as someone who doesn't consider themselves a tactical person by any means (my character was a barbarian because no think, just hit!), i think i did pretty well for having played in balanced mode. only four fights gave me a hard time (house of grief being one of them...GEEZ what was THAT!!!), two of which i actually had to look up strategies online because well, i don't have all day to try to figure it out, you know?

the ending left me with such a big smile on my face: it just put me in such a good mood, and honestly i can't remember the last time a video game ending left me with that feeling of satisfaction and contentment. when i told my friend about me going around talking to all of my friends six months after we had defeated the brain, he was shocked because apparently that post-ending bit wasn't there when he originally beat it. and honestly? i loved talking to all of my party to see what they had been up to! lae'zel didn't outright hate me for not having freed orpheus and she looked happy, halsin gave me a duck!! :D karlach was full of hope at the thought of there being a way for her to get her engine fixed for good, and it looks like wyll and karlach are a thing?? I GOT TO ADOPT THE OWLBEAR WITH SHADOWHEART FUCK YEAH!!! like. finishing an adventure is good and all but it's even better when a video game gives you the chance to see how the hero and the rest of the gang are doing after saving the world. i just fucking love it.

as for my choices, i think i'm pretty happy with the ones i made. there are a couple that i think i'll change in my second playthrough (yes, there will be one :) not now, after ghost of tsushima for sure tho), but overall glad to see that everyone got a mostly happy ending (gale became a god ffs). although earlier i did say that i had no curiosity in seeing shadowheart's other option for her parents, the fact that she still alluded to it post-ending makes me curious to like, ok, is being a slave to shar really an option to consider at all in order to keep her parents alive??? because now that i think about it...gale becomes a god so he got his wish, lae'zel still has her people and is fighting for their freedom, jaheira has her children and is helping rebuild the city, karlach and wyll are at least together in avernus, astarion sounds like he is having the time of his life, and minsc is...minsc. shadowheart becomes free of shar and thus her parents die in the process, thus shadowheart no longer has any of her "people" that she can count on, her best friend from her childhood is still a sharran, and plus her parents are now dead. so if you don't romance her, like...what does she end up doing post game?? because the way things sound here sound pretty lonely for shadowheart unless you end up with her, so now i guess i'll have to finish watching john wolfe's playthrough cus i'm pretty sure he was going down the karlach romance path!

but yeah, that option and the orpheus thing are the options that i might consider changing in my second playthrough, but honestly for the latter, i'm fine with how things ended between me and the emperor even if lae'zel was angry at me because it sounds like she's doing fine 6 months later AND she was glad to see me :y i also didn't make much use of my tadpole powers and refused to consume the special one that the emperor gave me, so i can imagine if i HAD consumed it, i wonder if some of the later battles would have been easier....

usually i do a long-ass post talking about what i loved and didn't love about a game, but for bg3, i can't think of anything i just outright disliked. i know that i for sure missed some cutscenes because i was afraid i was long resting too much (the comments on john wolfe's playthrough scared me a little ngl), but i ended the game with like 1200 camp supplies, so now i know camp supplies are not as much of an issue as people made it out to be. gameplay, story, the insane amount of paths/choices you can take in this game...like....FUCK...it's all just so much to take in and really makes you appreciate and marvel at how in the hell such a beautiful game was crafted in the first place.

for now, it's time to take a break from bg3, but man, what a fantastic, unforgettable ride it was. i was thinking of going for the platinum trophy for bg3, but after seeing that you have to beat the game under tactician (AND also that you have to defeat the red dragon in the final battle? heeellll no), i'm afraid i'm gonna have to pass up on that one--i'm just simply not tactical enough for it lol.

[yourfavsinbg3]

Honor Mode Liveblog Update

I'm still alive, just dealing with some Real Life bullshit. I still have plans to play more, I just felt a little burnt out on BG3 right now. Sacrilegious, I know. So i've been takin a break and playing some other stuff, and i finally perfected stardew valley for the first time!! I'm still waiting for 1.6 on console but i'm quite pleased to have achieved perfection anyway. tldr; i will be back! And I will beat Baldur's Gate 3, one way or another.

[astarionancuntnin]

Undisclosed Desires (Chapter 1)

summary: astarion and you, along with your other companions, have been traveling together for a few weeks now. he gets on your nerves at least once a day. but as much as you hate to admit it, your late night activites are plagued by him. little do you know, hes aware of the effect he has on you and intends to use that to his advantage.

rating: E

word count: 3.1k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, reader is a self-insert tav who happens to be a sorceress, nondescriptive appearance)

cw: 18+. smut, porn with no plot, "enemies" to lovers ish, slight masturbation, fingering, rough sex, kinda possessive/hate sex, brat reader, vampire bites, blood (obvs), PiV, primal play (if you squint), creampie, denial of feelings, "oh no I'm falling in love"

a/n: WHEW i finally managed to write this, my first bg3/astarion fic ~ let me know what you think! originally this was supposed to be a one shot fic but i might have some ideas for a next chapter maybe potentially so if yall deem this good enough i might write some more uwu

Masterlist

read on ao3

next chapter

or keep reading down below ~

edit: corrected a few typos and added lyrics from my astarion playlist that inspired this debauchery

Maybe in time

When we're both better at life

Daylight can open my eyes

And you'll still be by my side

But meanwhile

I've got my contact high

You've got your powdered lies

We've got these summertime nights

Night by night

I let you eat me alive

I want you to eat me alive

I want you to eat me alive

-

You and Astarion, along with your other companions, had been traveling together for a few months now. You grew accustomed to his usual banter, though most of it got you rolling your eyes. You did enjoy the few moments of silence you would get while traveling, and his annoying habit to fill it with his remarks annoyed you profoundly. 

Gods, you thought. I wish he could shut up, just for once. Would it be so much to ask for ONE day of peace?

As much as you hated to admit it, you needed him in your party. The bastard was a master in lockpicking and disarming traps, which you came across much too often. You started learning on your own in the hopes of making him useless, but it had proven to be quite the challenge. As a sorceress, it was simply not a trick you had up your sleeve. In the meantime, he would have to tag along, if only for that, and you would have to tolerate whatever witty comment he had along the road.

You felt that he knew how much his comments annoyed you, too. Everytime he was about to say something, his eyes would dart your way, expecting a reaction from you, and you always delivered: an exasperated groan, a sigh, shaking your head, rolling your eyes, and always picking up the pace to get away from him. He took a vicious pleasure in disturbing your peace. 

And your private space.

You did appreciate physical contact, that was no issue for you. Karlach’s hugs were the best in your opinion. Ever since you got to fix her engine, you've really enjoyed getting crushed in her arms, lovingly of course. Shadowheart came close second, you really cared for her with your relationship growing since the nautiloid crash. You had favorites of course, but in general you didn’t mind it from anyone, really. You longed for physical contact from the people you loved.

Astarion, on the other hand, did not fit that criteria. But it didn’t stop him from brushing your hand as he walked past you, having his hands linger over yours when exchanging potions or even holding your waist to move you aside a few times. Even with your hatred for him, those temporary touches set a fire inside you that you couldn’t understand. It would bother you all day, sinful thoughts invading your mind and almost sidetracking you from the goal at hand. I despise him. How is he doing this to me? Why do I find myself longing for his touch? 

What’s he doing to me?

Usually when that happened, you would take care of yourself at night once everyone went to bed, hoping your pillow was enough to muffle your moans as you pleasured yourself. You were lucky your tent was well far from the others. Or most of them, anyway. You always insisted on putting it up in a secluded space of the camp. You had enough struggles with those conflicting feelings about how the vampire made you feel, the last thing you wanted was for one of your companions to tease you about it.

Today was no exception. As you laid down in your bedroll wearing nothing but your loose blouse and underwear, your hand carefully made its way between your legs. You played out the rehearsed scenario in your head of the scene that happened earlier, but with your own twist on it. Karlach and Shadowheart had proposed to split up to cover more ground looking for a document, and it left you alone with the pale elf. 

“Well, well, aren’t you lucky to be the one by my side?” he teased, once your friends were far enough from you. “Don't worry, love, I won't bite. Unless you ask, of course”. His words and honeyed voice alone had set off something unnerving in you, a familiar warmth that pooled down to your stomach. 

If you had had it your way back then…

At the next corner, you would’ve pushed him by the waist against the nearest wall and shut his pretty mouth up, roughly kissing him, biting his lips in the process, hoping to draw out some of his own blood to have a taste. You would’ve taken the chance to let one of your hands roam through his silky smooth, curly hair, pulling it enough to get a moan out of him. How you would’ve parted his legs with your own, and grinded against his crotch, feeling his growing bulge. You would’ve made him whimper, you would've -

You’re suddenly taken out of your fantasy by an exaggerated cough outside your tent. Fuck, what now? You recognize the tone of the vampire you were fantasizing about seconds ago. Shit. Did he hear me? You take a second to push yourself up on your elbows.

“What do you want, Astarion?”

He takes this as an invitation to enter your tent, “Well, hello to you too, dear”.

“Do you even know how late it is?” You practically spit out, annoyed. “Can I help you?” You try to cover up as the cold night air slipping inside with him makes you shiver, and your blouse doesn't leave much to the imagination.

He smirks. “My, my, no need to be so hostile,” he kneels next to you. “I was actually thinking we could help each other out.” 

You stare at him, pausing before asking your next question. “...What do you mean?”

“Well, I was hoping you would be willing to share your blood with me again.”

“I helped you one time and you almost killed me,” you stare at him with daggers in your eyes.

“And here I thought everything was forgiven,” he puts a hand over his undead heart, fainting a pained expression. “You hurt me, really.”

“Plus, didn’t we agree you’d be feeding on the blood of our enemies from now on?”

He sighs, “We did, and it’s sufficient at best.” His voice deepens. “And now that I’ve tasted yours, I’ve come to… crave it.”

You feel his gaze going through you and your heartbeat quicken. Your breath gets stuck in your throat at this confession. You are fighting yourself to conceal any noticeable change in your expression, but it's a battle you’ve already lost. 

“I fail to see where that’s my concern,” your shaky voice betrays you. You could swear he had gotten closer to you, but you couldn’t allow him to see through your vulnerabilities. “As far as I know, there’s nothing in it for me so far. What makes you think I would indulge you?”

“Oh darling, you didn’t really think you were hiding anything, were you?”

Your blood runs cold. “...What?” He knows. No fucking way he knows. 

“Come on now, you thought I wouldn’t notice how you’ve been acting around me lately?” 

He crawls towards you, and you try to move back but the limits of your tent don’t allow you to escape him, who is quickly closing the short distance between the two of you. “The way you shiver under my touch. How those simple touches render you incapable of making eye contact for the rest of the day after. How your face turns into the sweetest shades of red when I’m nearby.” He hovers over you completely by now, his face merely inches from yours. “The way I can hear the muffled sounds from your tent every night.” He pins your arms next to your head, locking you in place, and whispers in your ear. “The fact that I can smell your arousal, at this very moment.”

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His cold breath sends a shiver of pleasure down to your core. You fumble over your words, you’re not sure what else to say. You might be conflicted about your feelings for him, but the truth is, you find yourself wanting this, whatever he’s willing to give to you.

“Very well then, let me show you.” You gasp in surprise as he pushes your arms up above your head, allowing him to hold them both with one hand while the other slides down between your legs. A soft whimper escapes your lips as his fingers touch your cunt over your panties, feeling your wetness through them. 

“Mmh, just like I thought,” His voice is deep with lust. “So wet for me already.” 

“That’s… it’s not… what you think..” you pant at his touch, struggling to get the words out.

“Is it? Cause to me it seems that you were already touching yourself before I visited you tonight. And I would bet my undead life that you were thinking about me.” His hand makes its way inside your undies and a finger slides between your folds.

You can’t fight the moan that escapes you at the contact of his cold skin against yours. 

“Shhh, we wouldn’t want the camp to know about your dirty desires now, would we?” he whispers, as he keeps exploring the increasing warmth between your legs.

“What… makes you think that…I would touch myself to you?” Each word takes your full effort to manage to say them. You didn’t want to cave in as easily, if he was trying to make you admit to these fantasies, he’d have to torture them out of you. Although, his hand pressing against your clit was doing a pretty good job so far. 

“Maybe… I was thinking about Shadowheart.” You frown devilishly, biting your lip. That should throw him off.

“Mh no, no,” he smirks back, his eyes wearing a predatory look. “Your tadpole was pretty clear on who you desire.”

You can’t hide your surprise and Astarion notices instantly. “You’re lucky the others sleep too far to catch it, I’m sure you would never hear the end of it.” His hand previously holding you down makes its way to your neck, holding the back of your head, and his mouth trails kisses from your ear to your throat. His fangs scrape the bite mark he’d previously left on you, that first night, earning him a soft moan from you.

“How long have you-”

“Known?”, he cuts you off. “A tenday, more or less.”

Many thoughts are suddenly racing in your head. You vividly remember an interaction you had with him a few days ago: that time he caught you trying to lockpick a chest away from the group and leaned against your back, taking your hands in his to guide you. “Here, let me show you,” he’d said. His breath was cold against your neck and you could feel his lips close to your ear, the feeling sent shivers through your body. You had struggled to look at him for the rest of that day. This moment alone created that need for him from then on.

You gasp sharply, as you are taken back to the present by two of his fingers making their way inside you slowly.

“I must say you have a very creative mind, dear. I’m just disappointed you didn’t invite me in on the fun before,” his hand slides from your neck to your breast to give it a soft squeeze, kneading it, before pinching your nipple through the soft fabric of your blouse. ”I sense this is not how you expected this to go, is it?” His talented fingers between your legs find the sweet spot that makes you see stars, and he thrusts them in with ease.

“A- Astarion…” You buck your hips into his hand, trying to feel more of his touch. You don’t feel like arguing anymore. Fine, he knew everything you’ve ever thought about him. Now, all you wanted was for him to do something about it. You needed to feel him, all of him, all over and inside your body.

“My, my, aren’t you an eager little thing?”

He removes his fingers from you and you cry out from the loss of his touch. You make eye contact as he gets up on his knees and moves his coated fingers in his mouth, sucking on them to get a taste of you. “Mmh, delicious.”

“Please…” You wriggle underneath him, you’re desperate for him to touch you.

“Use your words, darling. Tell me what you want.”

“You. All of you, “ you beg. Your eyes dart to his lips. You wanna taste him and yourself on his tongue, too.

“You’ll have to be more precise than that.” 

Fucking tease.

“Godsdammit,” you groan in frustration, your fists hitting the ground next to you before you raise yourself up to face him. You’ve had enough of this. “I want you to fuck me, Astarion!”

“That’s my girl.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he grabs you by the throat and closes the distance between you in a fiery kiss. Nothing about it is soft. It’s desperate, messy, and rough. It’s all teeth and your tongues are fighting for dominance, and you let yours be nicked by his fang, leaving the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. You’re pushed back against the ground and in his eyes you can see something change. Everything about him feels… primal.

In a matter of seconds, your panties are ripped off from you and your blouse is torn open. There’s a sort of fear stirring inside of you, something about you being his prey, and it's arousing. You are so dizzy from the feeling that you barely notice him pulling his trousers down to his knees and angling himself with your entrance. His mouth ravages your tits, leaving scratches from his fangs as he sucks on them ravenously and licks the few drops of blood that leak out, all while his hands take hold of your ass, roughly squeezing you. You feel his hardened cock slide against your wet cunt, and you push your hips up to rub yourself against him, aching for more contact.

He groans deeply at the contact, his hips jerking at the sensation. “You little minx.” His smile shows his bared fangs, a delicious threat that you want to challenge.

“Just because you’re on top doesn’t mean you get all the control,” you spit back. Gods, this is so much better than what I imagined. “If you want it, you’ll have to fight me for it.”

“You insolent little wench.”

Without any warning, he pushes his body against yours, pinning you to the ground and buries himself inside you in one swift thrust. Your mouth flies open and the scream that escapes you is quickly muffled by his hand. His other hand remains on the curve of your hips, where it holds you in place, perfectly aligned with his to hit you deep. His thrusts are raw and erratic and with each hit you can feel your eyes roll further in the back of your head. The feeling is simply ecstatic. 

His voice takes a much deeper tone as he breathes out in the nook of your neck, “I’m gonna fucking devour you.”

With your head tilted back, Astarion wastes no time finding your pulsing vein and biting down on your neck, taking his fill of you. His sharp fangs feel like ice shards, the feeling making its way down your chest, just like you remember them from the first time. The icy feeling leaves place to a fire coursing through your veins as he drinks you in, leaving you in a blurry state of bliss.

You are at his mercy. You can’t fight back. He has complete control over you.

And you love it.

His reckless pounding only gets faster and sloppier. You’re convinced that his hold of you and those bites on your tits will leave bruises come morning, but it was the least of your worries. Right now, you’re getting filled by the pretentious elf that had been teasing you for over a tenday and you’re fully enjoying it.

Your tent is filled with the wet sounds of your fucking and his grunting against your neck, along with your muffled voice which, thank the gods it is, otherwise the entire camp would have heard of your late night tryst by now.

You swear you could feel his cock get harder inside of you after each sip of your blood. You feel dizzier and the combined feeling of him getting his fill of you while filling you up at the same time were bringing you close to the edge, and so was he. 

“Don’t fight it, pet,” he growls. “Admit that you lost to me. Surrender yourself to me. Scream my name. Let everyone know who ruined your pretty little cunt.”

His last words are enough to send you over the edge, shockwaves making your entire body spam. As he removes his hand from your mouth, you cry out loud. You can't help the sounds escaping you, the overstimulation you're feeling leaves you mindless. You couldn't care less anymore if any one heard you.

Just as he feels your juices overflowing, Astarion gives a last stroke and with his cock deep in your womb, fills you with his spend. He remains still inside of you until he rides out his aftershock.

You both remain in this position as you take the time to come back from your high: panting and sticky with sweat, him still inside you, overflowing with both of juices, and his body crushing yours. The feeling is weirdly comforting.

After you come back to your senses, you can't help but laugh wholeheartedly, which has Astarion raising his brow.

“What's so funny?”

“You. This. Us, really.”

“I take it that you enjoyed our little time together, then?”

“As much as I hate to admit it, yeah.”

“You will learn to know that my company is most enjoyable.” 

His expression is back to the overconfident vampire you know, a contrast to the feral beast he was minutes ago.

“Mmh, I think that’s still debatable,” you tease him.

“What is it with you trying to hurt me so carelessly?” he smiles, playing along.

You chuckle, “I'm sure your oversized ego will get over it.”

“I'll have you know that my ego is perfectly sized, as I am, thank you.”

You look at him and you don't know what takes over you, but you grab his face and pull him in for a tender kiss. It's sweet, longing, it's trying to communicate a feeling you don't dare to speak aloud. It’s the complete opposite of how you felt when the night started.

It might be the aftermath of your climax or these long repressed feelings that we're tainted by annoyance or the absurdity of the situation you're in, but you find yourself wanting him to stay for the night.

When you break the kiss, his gaze is softened. He’s taken aback and tries to mask his surprise with a question, “So then, tomorrow, same time?”

You push him back with a smile, “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Though, you wouldn't mind making this a recurring occurrence.

-

I can feel your love

Your temporary touch

It's a hit and run

You go back there when you're done

Don't you want some more

'Cause I can feel your love