#illithids deserve to be held

[mittthrawnuruodo]

[moonselune]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write the Kressa Bonedaughter reactions with all the bg3 ladies? Or just Jaheira and Minthara if all of them would be too much? I love your posts btw! You write amazingly, do you have an Ao3 account if it’s okay if I ask? I hope you have/had a nice camping trip! ❤️ 🧁🧁 🧁

ahhhhh this was so fun to write, very hurt comfort! And thank you so much <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The Illithid Colony was a dark, oppressive maze of horror and misery. You and Karlach had just confronted Kressa Bonedaughter, a grotesque figure from your past that you couldn't fully remember. Her chilling revelations about your time as a captive, being opened up endlessly for research, made your blood run cold. Despite not recalling those horrific events, a deep, visceral fear and anger bubbled within you.

After a fierce battle, Kressa lay dead at your feet. The grim silence that followed was almost deafening. You turned to Karlach, expecting her to share your sense of victory, but instead, she was staring at you with wide, tear-filled eyes, her face set with shock.

"Karlach," you began, your voice faltering slightly. "I'm okay. It's over."

Karlach shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "No, it's not okay," she said, her voice trembling. "I had no idea… no idea what they did to you. What you went through."

You reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled away, her hands covering her face as she sobbed.

"Fuck, how could anyone do that to you?" she cried, her voice loud and flames beginning to flicker at her skin.

You felt a lump form in your throat. "Karlach, I don't remember any of it. It's like it happened to someone else. I'm here now, with you. That's what matters."

But Karlach was inconsolable. She dropped to her knees, burying her face in her hands. "I can't believe I didn't know. I should have been there to protect you. I should have—"

You knelt beside her, gently pulling her into your arms, ignoring the slight burning sensation.

"Hey, hey," you whispered, stroking her hair. "You couldn't have known. No one could have. And I'm okay, Karlach, I'm here."

Karlach clung to you, her body shaking as she cried.

"I love you," she whispered. "I'll never let anything like that happen to you again. I promise."

You held her tighter, your heart breaking at her anguish. "I love you too, Karlach. And I know you won't, babe."

Gradually, her tears subsided, and she looked up at you with red-rimmed eyes. "We'll get through this," she said, her voice firmer now. "But I swear, anyone who tries to hurt you again will pay. I'll make sure of it."

You laughed and nodded, feeling a surge of determination. Together, you would face whatever came next, but for now, you simply held each other.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The dark corridors of the Illithid Colony echoed with the sound of your footsteps as you and Minthara confronted Kressa Bonedaughter. Her twisted revelations about your past captivity and the gruesome experiments she performed on you left you both seething with anger and horror. Though you couldn't remember those torturous moments, the rage and disgust were palpable.

After a brutal battle, Kressa lay defeated, her unconscious body sprawled on the cold ground. Minthara stood over her, her chest heaving with fury. Her eyes burned with a murderous intensity, and you knew she wasn't done.

"Minthara," you began, trying to steady your voice. "We need to focus. Ketheric is still out there. We can't waste time here."

But Minthara's gaze didn't waver from Kressa's body. "No," she hissed. "This iblith deserves to suffer. She tortured you, and she will pay dearly for every moment of your pain."

You stepped closer, placing a hand on her arm. "I understand your anger, but Ketheric is the bigger threat. We have to stay focused."

Minthara whipped around, her eyes blazing. "Do you not see? This is justice! She must suffer for what she did to you. For what she took from you."

You felt a pang of guilt and frustration. "I appreciate your fury, truly, but we have a mission. Ketheric's death is more important right now. We can't let our emotions distract us."

Minthara's grip on her weapon tightened, and for a moment, you feared she might lash out. But then her expression softened slightly, though her resolve remained unyielding.

"I will not let this go unpunished," she said quietly but firmly as she delivered the final killing blow on Kressa. "But for now, I will prioritize Ketheric's demise.

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and admiration for her fierce loyalty. "Thank you, Minthara. Let's end this nightmare together."

As you turned to leave, Minthara took a final, vengeful glance at Kressa's corpse before following you. She would not allow anything like this to happen, ever again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Lae'zel stood beside you, her eyes narrowing as she absorbed the grotesque details of your past captivity. The way Kressa described finding you close to death, opening you up endlessly for her vile research on mindflayer parasites—it made Lae'zel's blood boil.

As Kressa fell, defeated and lifeless at your feet, Lae'zel's fury only intensified. She turned to you, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and helplessness.

"How could this happen?" she demanded, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "How could they do this to you?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "I don't remember it, Lae'zel. It's like it happened to someone else."

But your words did little to soothe her. Lae'zel's fists clenched and unclenched, her mind reeling from the horror of what she'd just learned.

"This abomination," she spat. "Those creatures, that woman—they all deserve to be eradicated for what they've done to you. This place needs to burn, now."

You reached out, placing a hand on her arm. "Lae'zel, we have to stay focused. Ketheric is still out there. We can't let this distract us."

She pulled away, her muscles tense. "You expect me to stay calm after hearing this?" she snapped. "You were violated, tortured, and left for dead. And I wasn't there to protect you."

You could see the storm of emotions raging within her—anger, guilt, frustration. "Lae'zel, your anger won't change what happened. But we can make sure it never happens again. We can end this."

Lae'zel's eyes locked onto yours, her jaw set. "I swear on my honor, I will make them pay for every wound they inflicted upon you. I will not rest until they are all dead."

You nodded, understanding her need for vengeance. "Together, Lae'zel. We'll face this together."

With a final, seething glance at Kressa's body, Lae'zel turned to you, her resolve unshaken. She took a deep breath, trying to rein in her emotions. "Let's finish this," she said, her voice steady. "For you. For us."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The dim light of the Illithid Colony cast eerie shadows as Kressa Bonedaughter's words cut through the air. Shadowheart stood close to you, her heart sinking with each revelation about your past captivity. The details were horrifying—how Kressa found you close to death, experimented on you endlessly, all in the name of her twisted research.

When Kressa finally lay dead, silence fell over the chamber. Shadowheart turned to you, her eyes wide with shock and sorrow.

"I… I had no idea," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You went through so much, and you don't even remember."

You tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it faltered. "It's like it happened to someone else, Shadowheart. You know what it's like, but it's over now."

Without another word, Shadowheart stepped forward and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close. She held you tightly, her body trembling as she absorbed the weight of what she'd just learned. You could feel her heart pounding against your chest, her breath hitching as she struggled to find the right words.

"I can't… I can't imagine the pain you endured," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm here now. And I will never let anything like that happen to you again."

You buried your face in her shoulder, finding solace in her embrace. "Thank you, Shadowheart. I don't know what I'd do without you."

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. Her gaze was filled with a fierce determination. "You won't ever have to find out. I promise you that."

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude and love for the woman holding you. "Together," you echoed.

Shadowheart held you for a long moment, her warmth and strength grounding you. Finally, she pulled away, but kept her hand on your arm, as if afraid to let go in case you disappeared. You smiled and took a deep breath in, ready to carry on with her by your side.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

When Kressa finally lay lifeless at your feet, Jaheira turned to you, her face a mask of shock and sorrow. Her hands clenched at her sides, and you could see the struggle within her—an intense mix of anger and helplessness.

Jaheira’s voice was low and trembling, her green eyes dark with a tempest of emotions. “You went through such torment, and I was oblivious.”

You shook your head, trying to find the right words. “I don’t remember any of it, Jaheira. It’s like it happened to someone else.”

Jaheira’s face contorted with anguish. “Whether you remember or not, it happened to you. They did those things to you.” Her voice broke, and she took a shuddering breath. “I can’t stand the thought of you suffering like that.”

You reached out, trying to soothe her with a gentle touch, but she stepped back, her eyes blazing.

“No,” she said, her voice firm despite the quaver. “Don’t try to comfort me. I should be the one comforting you.”

“Jaheira, please,” you began, but she cut you off.

“No!” she exclaimed, her anger boiling over. “This is unforgivable. Those monsters—Kressa—they need to pay for what they’ve done.” Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

You felt a pang of guilt and helplessness, wanting desperately to ease her pain. “Jaheira, we have to stay focused. Ketheric is still out there, and we need to stop him. We can’t let this distract us.”

She shook her head vehemently. “How can I focus on anything else when I know what they did to you? This isn’t just a distraction—it’s a wound that will never fully heal.”

You stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find a way through this, I promise.”

Jaheira looked at you, her eyes filled with a fierce determination. “We will make them pay,” she said, her voice steadying. “Every single one of them. But you must promise me something.”

“Anything,” you replied, your heart aching for her.

“Promise me that if you remember what happened, you won't hide anything like this from me. We face everything together, no matter how painful.” Her grip on your hand tightened, her resolve unshaken.

“I promise,” you said, your voice firm with conviction.

“For you, for us, and for every innocent soul that suffered at their hands.” With Jaheira next to you, you felt a renewed sense of purpose, sense of being.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

ooooo hope y'all enjoyed it - Seluney xox

[lynnlovesthestars]

Your masterlist says your requests are open so if you’re cool with it could I request a Karlach x reader where Karlach discovers the reader is ticklish and they’re embarrassed about it because they secretly like it?

omg hiii, OF COURSE I'D LOVE TO!

~♡~

Edit: damn I'm an idiot, right after i posted it i realized my brain played a trick on me and convinced me that the prompt was slightly different Tomorrow I'll try and write it again so I'll fill the request properly, sorry bit it's 3:00 am lol! For now I'll still drop the one i wrote..

Pairing: Karlach x reader.

Genre: fluff.

Warnings: just a little of insecurities

Synopsys: that laugh you hate.

AN: Post act 3, i didn't like the painful ending so i decided this is how i'll headcannon it

You swore this was heaven: laying next to Karlach as the linen sheet wrapped loosely around your bodies while you spent your time getting lost in each other.

At the end of your adventure together, you all deserved a break, and winter approaching Baldur's Gate was perfect for it.

You and Karlach had spent the first few days free from the illithid to find a tiny place to share, just the two of you as you figured out what to do.

Being the hero of Baldur's Gate had its benefits, and a spectacular discount for a house was one of them.

It was nice staying in the outer city, not too far from where Jaheira lived, so you could keep up with the antics of the harpers.

It was early, too early to get out and to start helping with the reconstruction of the city, so you did sleep in.

That's how you ended up there, Karlach hovering over you, and raking her nails along your skin.

She had been so touch starved that she'd spend days just feeling you close to her.

One morning she spent her whole time pressing sweet kisses all over your face, and caressing your cheeks, just for the sake of feeling you.

The way she giggled every time she'd realize she was truly able to feel you, was able to thaw even the coldest heart, you couldn't help but blush at it.

Her voice in the morning was unexpectedly sweet, low, just a mutter under the sheets as she held you close.

When Karlach's fingers reached your hips, and her nails started drawing incomprehensible patterns, you could feel your breath itch in your throat. Your body shivering wildly even at the smallest movement. A choked laugh escaped your lips as she looked at you surprised, yet not stopping.

"P-please stop" You tried to stop the laughter, concentrate on making your angrier face but to no avail.

"Oh what is it?" She taunted you playfully, her eyes wide and twinkling.

"Mh, is my princess ticklish?" She lowered just enough to peck at your lips without leaving your skin alone.

You wriggled under her touch, trying to escape as your expression would switch quickly between trying to be serious begging her to stop, and your uncontrollable laughter.

Don't laugh, Tav. Don't laugh. You repeat yourself trying to not embarrass yourself.

You could feel your stomach starting to hurt as the fit of laughter was almost impossible to stop, then Karlach suddenly stopped.

Her eyes softened as you laid under her, she barely held you as you regained your breath and turned your head away. From one part you wanted to be mad at her for not stopping, you HATED being tickled, from the other you shied away from the burning gaze.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think she was about to rip you apart.

Instead he eyes burned with something deeper, an affection so deep, that neither of you ever experienced before.

You both wanted to say something, but it was like the words stopped in your throats. What was lingering on your lips, those words you always feared to say, quickly became a scoff as you wanted to stir the conversation away from something you were not entirely ready for.

You kept your head away from Karlach's your arms quickly met on your chest, tightly folded.

You could feel her flopping on your side on the bed, poking your cheek just enough so you'd turn to stare at her.

She was about to ask you what was going on, if she hurt you, but you'd rather talk about the tickling problem than your feelings.

"I hate being tickled." Your brows furrowed, your face a weird mix between annoyance and the laugh that was yet to die completely. Karlach's face shifted at the speed of light. The worried look she had a moment before, made room for a bright smile.

"O c'mon, it's not that bad" She nudged lovingly, wondering whether she wanted to open her arms to you, or snuggle closer and rest her head on the nook of your shoulder.

"Mh, yes it is" You mumbled as you looked at the ceiling, it's true that you hated being tickled, but how could you be mad at such a dashing smile? You thought as you stared at the way the wood planks would be lined.

"And why would that be?" she asked, getting closer and closer by the second, until she was about to lay on you.

You wondered for a moment whether it was a good idea telling her, or if it would have made the thing just more embarrassing for you. You already wanted to hide under a rock, the idea that she heard your uncontrolled laugh, the one where you'd always end up snorting, made it even worse. Maybe taking the spot of a genie in a lamp was not so bad after all. You hated that laugh so much you could feel your stomach fighting already.

"..it's embarrassing" You admitted, your voice barely audible.

"Oh, no. I don't want to hear this excuse" Karlach sat up, shaking her head vigorously.

"It's not an excuse" You kept your arms crossed, but finally turned her way, your expression unreadable for a moment.

"Sure" She rolled her eyes. "And what is embarrassing about it?" She raised an eyebrow as she eyed you from top to bottom, or the closest thing the blankets allowed.

"The snorting" That's it, you wanted so badly to be a spellcaster, just enough so you could disappear and run away, and yet your bloodline was everything but magic inclined.

"Oh shush. Your laugh is adorable" She poked your cheek, as she already was sneaking next to you again.

An mhfp was the only sound you made as you wanted to say you didn't agree, but you already knew how it would go.

She didn't accept the idea that you didn't love something about you, and she would always do her best to prove you wrong. So for that time you skipped telling her, though it didn't matter. It was like she read your thoughts all the time, you could have sworn no one knew you like she did.

"That's it, I'm proving you are wrong" She jumped up again straddling your hips as her hands were already itching to tickle you, even saying it just as you thought she would,.

"Oh no you are not going to dare" You shook your head, trying hard to wiggle away again, failing miserably, again.

"Ah ah, you are not going anywhere" One of her hands reached for your fingers, interlacing it with hers before pulling it up just enough she'd be able to kiss your palm. And the back. And your knuckles. Just enough so you could lower your guard before letting it go and sticking again with her tickling.

This time she didn't give you time to fight the laughter, she giggled as you squealed under her touch.

Her smile was bright, like the light of Lathander. It was something that no matter how upset, sad or desperate you could be, it was always able to stir something in you, deep in your stomach, something that you couldn’t resist.

It was that smile that always coaxed you to do the dumbest things, to sleep in, to fight until the blood of your enemies covered your armors, to try and love yourself.

Cause no matter how much you'd hate you, Karlach was always there to guide you the right way. Showing you how pretty, how kind, and how cutely you laughed, always making sure that the bubbling feeling in your stomach would not die down.

Little did you know what the name of that feeling is.

[whaledenwtf]

Astarion x Reader - In the Candle Light

I'm OBSESSED with Baldur's Gate 3. Between Astarion and Halsin I can't choose, so I'm writing both and then will write a threesome fanfic soon!! All my Baldur's Gate 3 fanfics will be uploaded on Tumblr and AO3 so you guys can download them! Thanks for all the love on the Halsin fic <3 Here's the links for the Halsin Fanfic: Tumblr || AO3 The AO3 upload for the Astarion Fanfic: AO3 LINK

Warnings: afab!reader and Male Smut, Oral (Male Receiving), Praise Kink, Biting, Blood, Body Worship (Male Receiving), Angst and Fluff (Astarion deserves the world and I will give it to him)

I was pretty good at writing Astarion in the Halsin fic, so I tried to keep that energy here, but he is significantly softer. I don't normally write angst but I felt it fit with Astarion. His personality is fractured between a mask and his pain, and I felt that the complexity of his character (and his trauma) deserved to be explored. What was supposed to be a smutfest became something so soft and gentle that I couldn't help but tear up while writing it. I hope you guys enjoy this!!

WORD COUNT: 5624

Despite the tadpole in your brain, that was the least of your concerns. Your ragtag group has been bringing their problems to you. Since you became the leader in this journey to deciphering your illithid problem, everyone has come to you to solve their own problems. You love your companions, but holy shit, you're one person.

Well, maybe two if you counted the little bastard wriggling in your brain.

"As I was saying, there is not enough of anything for me to feed off." Astarion tells you, annoyed at your lack of attention. You roll your eyes.

"Alright, alright. You can have my blood tonight. Will that shut you up?" You can't help but be rude to the vampire. He was the fourth person today to ask you for something. You already accidentally gave Gale a valuable artifact to absorb, the wrong artifact; Karlach had accidentally burned your arm when her flames went out of control and then Shadowheart and you had gotten in a fight over her Shar worship. You didn't expect to be travelling with a group of overgrown toddlers, but here you are.

"Easy there tiger, don't need to get mad at me." Astarion tells you, wide eyed. You sigh, rubbing your temples. You feel guilty, you do. Today has just been testing your very limited patience.

"I'm sorry Astarion. I'm just exhausted, and everyone keeps coming to me for their problems." You move your hands to cover your eyes, rubbing them with the palms of your hands. He is silent next to you. He... does feel bad for you. He's been watching you struggle with everyone's burdens, especially since you had been also helping them alongside the tadpole issue.

"Darling, you gotta tell them to leave you alone." You whimper at his words, shaking your head.

"These people need me Astarion, how can I tell them off?" He scoffs.

"Like this: Hello, kindly fuck off." You take your hands off of your eyes and look at him with a smile on your face.

"It isn't that easy." Astarion shrugs.

"It can be." You giggle.

"Yeah?" He looks at you with a smirk.

"Of course, it would never work on me. I know I'm your favourite." You smile, looking down.

"What if Halsin is my favourite?" You both glance over the tall elf. He is playing with Scratch, petting him as he sits in his corner of the camp. Astarion scoffs.

"The tree hugger? Darling, come on. Look at me-" He stands up and gives you a twirl, before bowing in front of you. "I'm marvelous!" You blush, chuckling.

"Maybe I like big beefy elves who carry me out of danger!" That was a lie. Halsin was certainly attractive, but your attentions have always been held by the sarcastic vampire next to you.

"I can carry you out of danger sweetheart, just ask." He tells you huskily. You blush again.

"Would you now?" You ask him coyly, looking up at him. He smirks before holding your chin.

"Of course. You're my partner in crime, darling." You smile at his words. He's not wrong. You've spent the most time with Astarion. He has enthralled you since his dagger was held against your pulse point. Your conversation is cut off when Wyll walks up to you sheepishly. You can feel dread crawl up your spine.

"Sorry to bother you (Y/N), but I'm having a problem-" Astarion cuts him off with an eyeroll.

"I'm sure a big boy like you can deal with it." Wyll's jaw drops open.

"I-" Astarion cuts him off again, frustrating the human turned fiend.

"Look at her, Wyll. She's dealing with all of your guys' shit. Give her a break." Wyll scrutinizes him.

"And not yours?" Astarion scoffs.

"What shit? I'm perfect." Wyll rolls his eye.

"Right. Well, I'm sorry for bothering you (Y/N)." He does sound apologetic, turning to glare at Astarion before turning away. You look up at Astarion.

"Thank you." You whisper to him, before giving him a big hug. His body goes rigid. You let go of him and walk off towards Halsin, needing some very needed puppy cuddles from Scratch. Astarion stays in place, the shock rooting him in place.

He can't remember a time in his undead life that people showed real love to the vampire. The last two hundred years of his life have been riddled with suffering and torment. But you! You have not stopped showering him in love and respect. He craves it now, craves your love and attention. He can't help but want to always be near you. He can't help but feel jealous of Halsin. He watches you laughing with the gargantuan elf as you pet Scratch, and bristles. He turns and walks towards his tent, upset. How could he compete with someone who could walk in the sun? Someone who can love freely, and so openly? He was tired. 200 years of living in the shadows, only to find freedom and then once again not feel good enough. His feelings are brewing up a storm of conflict in his head. You were useful to him, his ticket to eternal freedom, but furthermore you were important to him. You made him feel things he hasn't felt in a long time; if he was honest with himself, he doesn't remember the last time he felt such adoration for someone else. He hides in his tent for the majority of the night, brooding.

Your conversation with Halsin was extensive, talking about nature and his worship of Silvanus. It was refreshing to speak to someone about something other than their problems.

Halsin hugs you tightly. "Have a good night, little one." He kisses your forehead before heading to his tent.

By the time you ended your conversation, it was late in the night and most of your companions were sleeping. You decide to go check in on your resident vampire. You walk to his tent, where the flap is closed.

"Astarion." You whisper from the entrance. Not a moment later, he opens up the tent.

"Oh, so you're done with the tree hugger?" He asks annoyed. You giggle into your hand, trying to muffle the sound as to not wake the others. He smirks at that. He may not be as tall or buff as the druid, but he can always make you laugh. Astarion: 1 Halsin: 0, he thinks to himself.

"Yes I am. May I come in?" You ask him sweetly. He nods, lifting the flap of his tent so you can get in.

"You know darling, you're not a vampire. You can come into my tent anytime." He tells you charmingly. You blush softly at the tone of his voice. Always the charmer.

"I know that. I just don't want to intrude on your alone time." You always said these things, such caring things. You cared about his privacy and autonomy, and his undead heart sung your praises.

"You can never intrude." He says quietly. Truthfully. You smile at him, and he basks in its radiance. If he had the opportunity to continue Cazador's ritual, he's not sure he would. Despite his want to walk in the sun again, he wouldn't need sunlight if he had you by his side. Your brightness rivals the sun and all the stars in the sky.

"I appreciate you saying that, little star." That was his favourite nickname you gave him. Little star. You made him feel special; worth it. He chuckles.

"I'm not that little." He tells you huskily. You blush at his words. If he could have the image of you blushing at his words embedded in his brain, he would. At least it would be better than the bastard parasite that's currently taken his body captive. Always the captive.

He gets this far away look, which worries you. You are the only one who notices these looks, and it always upsets you. Despite not knowing much about Astarion's past, you know it was dark and painful. You put a hand on his arm and he flinches. You back away concerned. He clears his throat before speaking.

"Sorry darling." He sounded so vulnerable, your heart ached. Every beat of your heart was hammering in your chest, yearning for him; yearning to protect him. From Cazador, from his past.

"You don't need to apologize to me, Astarion. I shouldn't have touched you like that without your permission." His chest hurts. He'll never be normal.

"You did nothing wrong, sweetheart." He wishes you could understand how perfect you truly are. His eyebrows furrow. You step closer, cautiously.

"May... May I hug you?" Your voice is hardly above a whisper. His eyes get misty, and he nods. You rush forward, gripping him tightly. Slowly, his arms going around you. Your head leans on his chest, feeling sadness as you do not hear his heart beat. As the hug continues, he leans his head onto yours, just... holding you. As he inhales, he can smell Halsin on you. His heart breaks again.

"I may not know your past, but I'm here for you little star." You tell him quietly. If his heart could beat, it would have sped up. He felt your care for him, but he couldn't help his mind from racing. What if you did learn his past? You would not regard him as highly as you do. A single tear falls from his eyes, and then a couple more. You felt the dampness on your hair, and you hugged him tighter.

"You're too good to me." He whispers, his voice cracking. Your heart shatters again. You are filled with such hurt, such anger, that he is broken. You can't wait to crush Cazador's skull with your boots. You pull away, and see the heartbroken look in his eyes. His hands go back to his sides, clenching tightly, as if he was trying to hold himself together. His tears continue to fall, even though he tries to will them away. He doesn't want you to think of him as weak. You gently put your hand on his cheek, and he savours the feel of your soft palms against his skin. Your thumb goes to wipe his tears.

"Oh Astarion. You deserve so much better." Your eyes well with unfallen tears, his pain becoming yours. He shakes his head.

"If you knew what I have done, the people I have hurt, you would never think of me the same." You continue to wipe his tears with your thumb, looking at him with love.

"Little star... I don't care for your past actions. Who you are today, in front of me is what matters. You deserve the world, and have been forsaken by it. I can never think of you poorly. I- I care about you too much." The confession slips from your lips, and you accept the repercussions. You know that if he doesn't return or want your affections, you would still help him find himself; his purpose. You loved him enough to sacrifice your happiness for his, possibly your entire being.

"Oh darling." He whispers, his hands moving to cup your face. You lean into his touch, eyes closing. Without thinking, he rests his forehead against yours, basking in your presence.

"If you don't feel the same way, I am okay with that. I will still be by your side- if you want me to be. I just want to take your burdens on my shoulders. I want to help you find your purpose; find yourself." Your eyes open to look at his ruby eyes. The shined so beautifully in the candlelight. You try to commit him to memory. You don't know if your mind's eye can fully capture his beauty or his being, but you know you would spend the rest of your life trying.

"What more could I want than what's in front of me?" He whispers softly, before pushing his lips to yours. It wasn't just a regular kiss. Despite its innocent nature, it was a lover's embrace, a connection between two souls. Your love for each other was boundless; but for just a moment, a sweet and tender moment, you felt it and its overwhelming power. You both pull away, breathless. You look into his eyes with such adoration, he can't believe how he had never noticed before. Despite being a rogue, it was you that stole his heart and took it as your own.

"I love you, little star." His eyes widen at your confession.

"I-darling-" He is stunned, your words locking him in place as if you had casted Hold Person and Silence at the same time.

"You do not need to say it now, nor ever. I just wanted you to know I will always-always care for you. In the darkest corners of Faerûn my heart will sing for you. I cannot fathom a world where we didn't meet, and my heart shatters when I see your pain. Let me carry your burdens, Astarion." You tell him passionately. He kisses you again, teeth clashing against each other. You hold him to you, with promise of never letting go. When you pull away, you can see the softness in his eyes.

"Even in the darkest corners of Faerûn? That's where I'll be, darling." You giggle. He smiles widely. You brush a curl behind his ear, before smiling brightly once more.

"You're so beautiful like this; when you are happy." He looks away from you, blushing.

"Now you're just flirting, darling." You bite your lip, looking at the blush on his cheeks.

"So what if I am? Can't I tell the man I love that I find him beautiful?" His heart sings again. Hearing you say that you loved him brought him such comfort, such relief that he felt as though he had sprouted wings and flew into the heavens.

"If you continue my ego will grow." He says, turning back to look at you. You roll your eyes.

"Can't have that happen, can we?" He chuckles at your sarcasm. You pull away from him, before taking a seat on his bedroll and patting the spot next to you. He sits, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"So... now what?" He asks you. Astarion never felt so unsure of what to do. He was always 10 steps ahead, and this uncertainty made him uncomfortable and concerned. You lean your head on his shoulder. He leans his head against yours, closing his eyes.

"Let us enjoy each others' presence. We don't need to speak. I just... want to relish this moment with you." You tell him softly. He's never had someone in his bedroll without ulterior motive. This felt like a new chapter in his life. A chapter where you are the main object of his affections, and one where he can put the past behind him- or at least try. He felt rejuvenated, and he smiles, eyes still closed.

"Enjoy each others' presence? I like the sound of that, darling." The rest of the night is silent, occasionally broken by soft conversation with tender words. At one point, you fall asleep on his shoulder. He has never felt so safe. He tucks you into his bedroll, before moving to sit in the corner of his tent. Before he could, your hand grips his.

"Please, stay." You ask softly, eyes open lightly. He nods, before tucking himself into the bedroll. You don't change your position, holding his hand. He curls his fingers to link with yours, and you spend the night innocently holding his hand, fingers linked.

He closes his eyes and lets himself fall into his meditative state, feeling safe and loved.

The next day was not as stressful as the day before. Karlach had already apologized the day before, but she came to you with Clive and told you that you could hug him and pretend it was her hugging you. You were so touched, that you shook your head and told her "when we fix your engine, I will give you a hug that rivals Clive's." And she cried happily nodding. Shadowheart apologized for her outburst, and spoke about her past, and how Shar was all she knew. You nodded, rubbing her arm and telling her you forgive her. And Gale! Gale felt so awful absorbing the wrong artifact that he gave you some of his most prized spell scrolls as an apology.

You decided that everyone deserved a rest day, and they were all grateful for the reprieve. Everyone moved around camp, hanging out with another or doing their hobbies. You spend the morning playing with Scratch and looking at the map, deciding where to venture for the next day. Halsin walks up to you, smiling.

"Hello little one." You smile at him.

"Hi Halsin." You tell him. Astarion hides from behind a bush, eavesdropping on your conversation.

"I wanted to speak to you about something of a more... private matter." He tells you, biting his lip. You turn your head left and right, before leaning in.

"Is everything okay?" He chuckles, nodding.

"Excuse my forwardness, but I can't go on another day without telling you this. Your beauty and radiance rivals that of nature, and I was wondering if you would spend the night with me underneath the stars?" You blush, eyes bulging and mouth wide open. Astarion shakes with fury. For once, for once, he had someone who cared about him. Now she'll be taken away by some-some bear! The poetic tone of his words was beautiful, Astarion admits. Astarion: 1 Halsin: 1, he thinks sulkily. He leans further into the bush, trying to listen to your answer.

"Halsin! I never expected you to feel such a way about me. I'm shocked." Astarion bites his lip, frowning. His anxiety skyrockets. What will he do?

"Of course, little one. Your beauty is captivating. Not just your body, but your soul and mind. I'm truly enamoured." Fuck him and his Parnassian speech. Astarion: 1 Halsin: 2... Asshole, he thinks to himself.

"Oh Halsin. I'm honoured you think of me so. As much as I enjoy you and your presence, my heart is with another. I'm afraid I can't pursue anything knowing my love lies elsewhere. I'm sorry." Astarion's eyes widen. Of course, you told him you loved him last night, but what if you were just trying to be nice? What if you loved another? Before he could spiral, he hears Halsin hum.

"Nature's love is all encompassing, but I understand if you would not want to pursue multiple relationships. Is the one who holds your heart Astarion?" Astarion shuffles even further into the bush, almost falling out into the open. He sees Scratch come close to sniff the bush. He shoos him away, trying to focus on the conversation.

"Yes, he is. I love him more than I love myself, if I am honest. I cannot imagine a world where I would not chase him to the ends of the realms." Astarion's eyes widen. It was him! He was the one who made you feel such a way. Of course, he knew your words last night were honest, but he was never sure someone could be so certain in their affections; especially when they involved him. His heart soared, and he smiled so wide that his cheeks hurt.

"Ah. I can understand how I can not fit in the equation. Your heart is bound to him and his nature. I can't help but feel jealous that he is the object of your affections. However, I am glad you found joy in another. Thank you for telling me the truth. May the Oakfather protect you both and your love." You smile at the gentle giant, before hugging him.

"Thank you Halsin. For what it's worth, I know for certainty you will succeed with expelling the Shadow Curse and find love- or multiple loves." You both laugh at your words, and he walks away, waving at you before going back to his tent. You hear shuffling and a bark before Astarion appears in your view. You smile at him softly.

"Hi little star." He walks up to you and hugs you tightly. You stand for a moment, shocked, before hugging him back.

"Is everything okay?" You ask him quietly. He hums.

"I... overheard your conversation with Halsin." You giggle quietly.

"Overheard? I knew you were eavesdropping Astarion." He backs away, acting shocked.

"Eavesdropping? Darling I would never!" Lae'zel cuts him off from her tent, sharpening her weapons.

"He was hiding in the bush." Astarion gives her an icy glare, and she smirks at the sour look on his face. He turns to look back at you, pouting. You put your hands on your hips and grin at him.

"Innocent until proven guilty, sweetheart." You chuckle. Before he could speak you cut him off, wide eyed.

"I forgot I said you could feed on me yesterday-" You slap your palm on your forehead. "I'm so stupid! You'll feed on me tonight, right?" Astarion hums, smiling.

"An offer I certainly cannot refuse. Can't wait, sweetheart." You blush at his words, looking down. His hand rubs up and down your arm before he walks back to his tent. Lae'zel chuckles at your blush, so you turn to stick your tongue out at her.

The sun had set, bellies have been filled and Gale's telling a wonderous tale about his time in Waterdeep. While everyone is distracted, you walk to Astarion's tent, a path you are intimately familiar with.

"May I come in?" You whisper at the tent flap, waiting for him. He walks out, grabbing your hand. You blush at the contact, you can't help it.

"Once again darling, you are always welcome." He pulls you in gently. Once in the privacy of his tent, he kisses you softly, like a lover. When you pull apart, you look at him starry eyed.

"Wow." He chuckles at your dumbfoundness.

"You're not the first to say so. Continue the flattery~" You slap him in his chest gently, before laying your hand on him.

"Little star, that sarcastic lilt will get you in trouble one day." He smirks.

"Hopefully you'll be the one punishing me, darling." You blush. Your skin feels hot, and you can't help the images he's putting in your mind. When you are quiet for a moment too long, he chuckles.

"Are you thinking about it darling? You punishing me?" You smirk up at him, blush subsiding.

"I'm only imagining you under me, begging for more, little star." His eyes widen, and he swallows. You grin at his reaction.

"I-well. Didn't know this kitty had claws..." Astarion says, nervous. He'd never heard you reply in such a way, and it was affecting him. He couldn't help it, the idea of you and your love enveloping him in a lovers embrace... he has been hurting for so long, but to have another care for him is enticing. Imagining the amalgamation of that love with you, under him... or on top, as you said; it fills him with excitement and desire.

"I just want to show you how much I care, sweet one. Take your burdens from you, to hold you.... Astarion I love you. I always will." His eyes get misty, but he successfully wills his tears away. He wants you, so much. More than anything in his life... possibly more than eradicating Cazador from Faerûn.

"What is stopping you?" He asks quietly. His hands find themselves on the sides of your head, holding you. His thumbs caress your cheeks. Your eyes close gently, lashes fluttering.

"I want you to feel my love and feel safe. I want to explore us... you... at your pace little star." You tell him truthfully. He couldn't imagine himself loving you more, but you have done it. It must be unnatural how light his soul feels hearing those words.

"Please explore what you'd like." He whispers into your ear sensually. You open your eyes, gazes locked. You look into his red orbs, noticing the small specks of burgundy in his eyes.

"Astarion, are you sure? I do not want you feeling pressured for the sake of my pleasure. I could wait a thousand years and would not regret a single moment." He kisses you, pulling you down so you are both kneeling on his bedroll.

"You make everything so easy. The most impossible tasks seem possible. I want to love you, hold you. (Y/N), I want you. Body and Soul." You seat yourself on his lap, and his arms wrap around your waist. You kiss him on the lips, tongue asking for entrance. He allows you, and your tongues softly roll against each other. You take and give, and he does the same. Like the tide, you push and pull. You draw your kisses away from his lips, before kissing down his cheek, then reaching his neck, giving it extra attention. He moans quietly at your ministrations. You begin to grind on him softly, your body touching his like a whisper. He whimpers when you kiss him on his bite.

"My sweet Astarion." You say against his skin, and he shivers. You pull away, smiling.

"May I undress you?" His tongue feels like lead, so he nods. You hum, pulling off his nightshirt. Your hands caress his muscles and the sinew that ties them together, grazing his chest, his abs and then his arms.

"You're more radiant than the stars in the sky. Do you know why I call you little star, Astarion?" He looks at you adoringly, as you show him and his body love and respect.

"Because of my name?" He asks quietly. Astarion meant little star... For elves, you would only get your adult name when you hit adulthood; his name, much like him, was forever petrified in youth.

"That is an aspect of it, yes." You giggle. "I call you little star because you are exactly like a young star. Full of energy, strength, power. Most would look over you, because you are not the largest star in the sky; but I see you as someone who can grow. You have a long life ahead of you, and that path will be bountiful. I know it." You hum, kissing his chest. You have somehow made his disdain for his youth simmer away. He feels unstoppable, knowing that the one he loves holds such a high regard for him, and sees a bright future for him.

"You're incredible." He tells you honestly. You smile at him, running a hand through his perfect curls. You tug gently, and his head tilts back. He is looking at the ceiling of his tent.

"I pale in comparison to you, my love." You kiss his neck again, starting at his bite. Your kisses trail down to his chest, spending an ample amount of time worshipping his nipples. He groans and pants, thighs quivering and his hips rocking back and forth. His member, hardening under you, catches your clit and you moan. You continue your descent, kissing his stomach and showing him love.

"May I?" You whisper.

"Please..." You undress him carefully, kissing his skin as it gets exposed. Once he is fully undressed you smile at him.

"Would you still like to continue?" His mind has forgotten his past, all his suffering. You in all your beauty and care have taken precedence in his mind.

"We can only continue if you're undressed, darling." You nod, undressing for him. You're both nude, and admiring eachother.

"You're stunning." He whispers. You go back to sit in his lap, grinding down on him.

"That's my line." You jest, and he smiles at you. Your efforts to keep him comfortable have made him warm; and needy. He bucks into you, and you moan, head tilted back. He begins to kiss your neck, mirroring your actions from before.

"May I?" He whispers against the column of your neck, and you whimper.

"Please do." He bites into you, and its euphoric. The first time he bit you all those nights ago was painful; but tonight, in the lowlight of his tent, you only feel warmth and love. He moans into your neck, your blood tasting like the finest wine. He pulls off of you, licking up the blood from your neck.

"You taste... delectable." Despite him talking about your blood, it was arousing you. You bite your lip and his eyes track the movement.

"Have another taste." You take a bit of blood from your wound and rub it onto your nipples, before rubbing it on your chest. You put your bloodied fingertip in his mouth. He takes the finger in his mouth, licking and nipping at you. He moans at the action, enjoying how you are feeding him. You pull your finger out of his mouth with a pop and push your chest into his face. He spares not a moment to descend on you, licking and savouring your taste. His tongue laps at your nipples, one at a time. You whimper at the act, gripping his curls tightly. He takes one nipple at a time between his teeth, tugging lightly. The mix of pain and pleasure was enthralling, and you continued to moan, saying his name like a prayer. Once he has cleaned you, he pulls away, licking his lips.

"You're perfect." He tells you earnestly. You blush, before pulling yourself off him. You kneel between his knees, crouching down so you are face to face with his cock.

"I will show you how perfect you are." You whisper, before taking him into your hand. He is large, and your fist can barely close around his girth. He bucks into your hand, keening. You trail kisses up and down his length, eyes never straying from his beautiful face. You take the tip between your lips, licking at the pearl of precum. You begin to take him into your mouth, taking care to be gentle and slow. You wanted to make sure if he ever wanted to stop he could; his comfort and enjoyment taking priority over your own. One of his hands go to the back of your head, and holds your hair. You slowly go up and down his length, tongue swirling around and tasting him. His musk fills your nostrils, and the smell of bergamot and cloves envelop you. You moan around him, beginning to speed up. The hand in your hair tightens, and pulls you deeper until your nose is pressed against the tuft of white-blonde hair at his base.

"O-oh fuck, sweetheart." You begin to deepthroat him, going up and down. He pants, and pushes himself all the way at the back of your throat, and you gag. He chuckles breathlessly, before pulling you off him. Your spittle has covered your chin and the tops of your breasts.

"If we continue like that, we'll be finished too soon." You smile at him, before getting in position above him.

"You're such a good boy, little star. Can't wait to feel you." He never expected to enjoy praise, but the words coming from your lips make him whimper out. You take him in your hand, pumping him once, twice, before descending and taking him. Once you bottom out, you both moan out.

"O-oh Astarion." You whimper. His eyes are wide, trying to commit to memory the look in your face as he fills you deliciously. You begin to move slowly. He already feels so close, the safeness and love he feels for you keeping him on the precipice of satisfaction.

"D-Darling, oh gods, you're tight. Might not last much longer." One arm locks around your waist, while the other trails to where you are joined and rubs you. You wince, moaning loudly. You begin to bounce in his lap and soon he begins to thrust up, hitting you in your cervix and that sweet spot. You were close too, but you wanted to finish together. The rhythm you set is sweet but brutal, the sounds of your coupling loud, but not as loud as the expletives and moans leaving your lips.

He smashes your lips together, and your bodies are touching; almost melding together. Your pace falters but he continues to thrust, his hand rubbing your clit every time he thrusts deep into you. You whimper into his lips, and his tongue finds its way into your mouth, tongues battling and teeth clashing. His lips trail down to your neck to take a bite. As he tastes you, he continues to thrust. You are lightheaded, between his thrusts and blood loss. The room spins, so you close your eyes and focus on how Astarion makes you feel.

He thrusts up once, twice, then stops. His thumb rubs you and you finish together. Your cunt is squeezing him, and milking him of his seed. He finishes inside you, and separates from your neck to moan out and pant. Still sensitive, you move your hips and he groans out, the hand on your waist tightening enough to leave bruises. You chuckle at his reaction, before he does something unexpected. He takes the hand that was rubbing you to his mouth, and keens at the taste.

"Just as savoury as the rest of you. I cannot wait to devour you again sweetheart." You whimper at his words, and clench around him.

"I love you." You tell him, laying your head on his chest. His hand rubs up and down your spine, caressing you.

"I love you too darling." For the first time in his life, he has said words he knew were truthful, without being sarcastic. He knew that for as long as he was unalive, he would love you with all his heart.

END

[vespaer77]

Snippet Sunday

Thanks for the tag @waterdeep-weavemoss ! You got it! Tagging @mumms-the-word @alls-fair-in-pride-and-prejudice @alpydk @lanafofana @this-is-seer @dr-demi-bee @miradelletarot

Snippet from the next chapter of I'll Tell You in a Song which can be read here :

Shayla Moonsong hadn't run this hard in what felt like a very long time. Yet only two years ago, so much of her life was spent running.

Running after hags fleeing an honest fight, or chasing hyenas before they could summon packs of gnolls, or leaping to miss a Harper before he stepped into a ravenous, consuming darkness. Or escaping the blast radius of an exploding fireworks factory. Oh, especially that one. Even in her mind's eye, as her calves ached and her lungs burned, she could still see him way up there on the peak of that abandoned house across the street, feet planted and hips square, robes flapping and arms twirling, drawing arcane figures and composing magic the way she would the chorus of a song. Demonstrating the full mastery of his craft. The memory was as bright as the fire in his eyes, alight with an incendiary glow.

The human flame thrower.

Gale of Waterdeep.

And now she was running after him.

The instant she crashed through the front door of the theater she doubled over, gulping for air as her hands gripped her quivering knees. It was there that she met those eyes once more, for the first time in two years.

She expected to see something alien in them, some change in the man that had occurred in her absence. She was prepared to face the longevity of her departure from him, and the distance she'd always maintained from him. She was prepared to face the confusion, or even revulsion, that she certainly deserved to earn from him, given how she'd made the inauspicious choice to murder him on a stage, right before those very eyes. It was the least of what she deserved.

But she wasn't prepared to face the familiarity. She wasn't prepared at all for the swell of their shared story, and how it spilled from those eyes, so soft and dark and deep. Fathomless, like the siren call of an endless sea. How one could easily drown in them. How one could want to.

Those eyes locked with hers the instant she opened the front door. They were filled with the same wonder at the serendipity of having been rescued from a stone. The same stark solemnity he'd cast over them when he'd held her hand to his heart and told her the tale of the Netherese orb in his chest. The same reluctance to trust, outweighed by the need to admit he needed her help.

The same loneliness he'd hidden when he'd tried to convince her that the image of Mystra held privately in his hand was merely an incantation he was practicing.

The same resolute melancholy and grace, when he'd accepted the terrible fate that Elminster had bestowed upon him.

The same bravery and fear, when he'd believed that fate had come to pass so quickly, in the bowels of an illithid colony buried beneath Moonrise Towers.

But it was the betrayal that stole the air from her lungs, shining through those eyes from the basement of Sorcerous Sundries. Raw with desperate hurt that, after all their time together, through what little emotion was permitted to pass beyond the veil of an unstable orb, through what few needs and wishes he didn't have to obfuscate, she could still understand so little of his perspective. That the Crown of Karsus was his only gambit toward survival. How she made it unequivocally known that his pursuit of it would still have such a steep cost.

And it would cost him everything.

What little he had left.

[himbodruid]

Forged Hearts

Part 1

Dammon x F!Tav

Named!Tav | Tiefling!Tav

A/N: i’ve wanted to do a DammonxTav fic for a while, but everything with the VA soured the motivation to do much of anything. But i decided to separate him from his character and love Dammon in the way he deserves regardless. Part one takes place at the tiefling party, spice is imminent

18+ MINORS DNI

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57570592

Ch 1: Yet Like Lovers

Naerys inhaled the scents in the night air. The bonfire, alcohol, and general revelry was tainted by the undertone of the previous day’s bloodshed. The others seemed capable of ignoring it, but it set her on edge.

Which is why she found herself sitting on an outcropping of rocks at the edge of the creek and watching the stars instead of joining the celebration. The goblin camp was defeated, along with its leaders, but there was still so much more to deal with. Questions left unanswered. Making a face, Naerys lifted the bottle of ithbank to her lips and took a hefty swig.

Before all of this illithid nonsense, she had been a ranger. Making her home in the forest and staying away from the people that otherwise gave her a wide berth because of her indigo skin and devilish horns. Add to that the silvery hair she inherited from her drow father, she may as well have been a pariah. She found solace in nature and being in forced proximity to others that shared her brain worm ailment took some getting used to. But she grew fond of her companions…except for when they annoyed her with their own issues against each other.

Finding a druid’s grove housing tiefling refugees had been a surprise. She’d heard of Elturel’s fall to Avernus whispered in the winds, but she didn’t expect to find anyone surviving that fall. They also seemed to be free of the parasite that infected the mishmash of unlikely companions. Lucky them.

Her tail flicked in ironic amusement as she let loose a dry chuckle. Another swig of wine to add to her mirthless humour. Things could be worse, she supposed. She could be a mindflayer as Nettie suggested. She could also be dead, especially if that first arrow she ever took from a goblin had found its home in her heart instead of her shoulder.

That memory brought out a genuine chuckle from her. That poor blacksmith fellow, Dammon, being subjected to the litany of curses that flowed from her as her companions pried the broken shaft from her chest right on the steps to his forge. He was a fine man, dedicated to his craft. Kind hearted, as well, even after everything he’s been through. Naerys would never forget the way he jumped at the chance to help Karlach with her engine. How those beautiful eyes glowed with excitement at operating on infernal machinery again. How those deft fingers of his worked the metal into submission. The rippling muscles as he-

Naerys cleared her throat and took another long drag from the wine, embarrassed even though nobody was around. Maybe it was the sexual tension permeating the air from all of the party folk sneaking off to their trysts for the night, but her line of thinking was dangerous. She didn’t want to get involved, or at least that’s what she told herself.

Truth of the matter was…she hadn’t been held by a man in entirely too long. So many years that she had lost count, but she only had herself to blame really. The forest had been her chosen companion for most of that time. But, hells, she would be lying if she said she didn’t find that damned blacksmith enticing.

She imagined that under that apron and shirt, he had lithe muscle from a life of hard work with a hammer. His shoulders were broad and lead to a tapered waist. A strong jaw, bright eyes that practically glowed. Eyes that sent a shiver through her every time they alighted on her. Eyes that softened when he saw her and her companions approaching his forge. Eyes that seemed to bore into her very soul.

Ugh.

Naerys shivered. It’s definitely been too long, and she had to admit that maybe she was a bit touch-starved. Maybe she could…no. She wouldn’t know the first thing about propositioning for a fling, and rejection would be more than mortifying. She-

“Here I was, bringing you a drink, but I see you’ve already got plenty. Shame,” came a voice from the darkness. A voice she was fairly familiar with now after weeks of purchasing his wares. Forged from the heart- the phrase from him she would never be able to forget.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating with the rest of your camp?” The words felt too abrasive so she tried softening them with a smile.

Dammon smirked back at her and sat beside her on the rocks. He produced a bottle of fireswill and two tin cups. He set the cups down to uncork the bottle, but before he could pour it out, Naerys took the bottle from him. It burned on the way down in a way she didn’t realize she was missing from the wine. Dammon chuckled and took the bottle from her when she offered it back to him. After a drink of his own, those damnably beautiful eyes settled on her.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating with the rest of your camp?” His repeat of her question let loose a surprise burst of laughter from her.

“Touche,” she replied with a chuckle, leaning back on an arm and looking back at the sky. She could feel his gaze still on her, and she was grateful for the darkness that would help hide the staining of a blush on her cheeks. If he mentioned it, though, she could blame the alcohol.

“It’s a beautiful night, shame to spend it alone,” he murmured.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you’ve come along, though I'm not sure I would be considered good company,” she said, casting him a sideways glance.

“You dont hear any complaints from me, do you?”

“Not yet,” she replied.

“Why are you up here alone?”

“I’m not much for celebrations personally. They make me feel…claustrophobic? I don’t know. I’ve spent so much time alone that i’m not used to crowds anymore.”

She was blabbering but she found she couldn’t stop. She was going to blame her loose tongue on the alcohol too.

“We have that in common, then. I suppose I will have to get used to crowds when we make it to the city, though.”

“Do they even allow our kind there?” She scrunched her nose as she asked the question. Even in her small village, tieflings like herself were considered curses upon the families that birthed them.

“They do, as far as I know. Rolan at least has work to look forward to when we get there, as that one wizard’s apprentice.” Dammon took up the fireswill again and threw back another gulp of it.

“And what about you? You’re already an accomplished blacksmith, I’m sure folks far and wide would line up at your door for your wares,” she said, taking the bottle from him. He chuckled, such a warm rich tone that made her shiver. This sent a small stream of the fireswill dribbling down her chin. She shifted the bottle from her face to catch it before it could stain her tunic.

But then he was there. Dammon had leaned towards her, his hand coming up to deftly catch the rivulet. And then, hells, and then his mouth followed after, his tongue snaking out to capture the spilled rum. Her breath hitched and her body froze. Surely that didnt mean…

“Oh. Oh gods, I-I am so sorry,” Dammon stammered when he pulled back and realized what he had done. An adorable blush spread across his cheeks and his eyes were wide with horrified embarrassment.

Naerys silenced him by pressing her lips against his. Her body shuddered when Dammon’s hands reached up to cup her face. It was a wonder that such rough, hardworking hands could provide such a soft and tender touch. But Naerys wasn’t sure she wanted soft and tender, not right now, not when death was at every possible corner.

She pressed hard into him, coaxing his mouth open so she could plunge her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his. Dammon growled in response, and hauled her to him so that she straddled his lap. The soft fuzzy feel of his undercut came as a surprise to Naerys when she trailed her hands up. Gods, then he scraped his teeth down the column of her throat, and she couldn’t help but throw her head back. With free access, he bit gently into the soft flesh of the slope of her neck. The moan that burst free from her was full of need and her hips ground against him almost of their own volition. He growled again, his grip on her tightening as his own hips tilted up to meet hers. The thick length of him growing hard under her drilled a primal need into her.

“Dammon,” she whimpered, grinding against him again. He muttered a curse in infernal at the desperation in her tone. One hand came to rest on her hip, while the other tugged at the collar of her tunic to bare her shoulder and the upper swell of her breast to his exploring mouth. Meanwhile, her own hands worked at the laces that loosely tied the collar of his tunic closed. Once she was sure the opening was enough to clear the tapered spikes of his horns, she all but ripped the fabric from him.

She knew that he had to have a certain level of strength for his profession, but hells, she was unprepared for the sheer powerful cut of his figure. His body may as well be forged from the very steel he manipulates with those rough hands of his. The infernal ridges of his heritage added to his sculpted beauty and Naerys knew she would never see a more stunning man. She leaned into him, her tongue tracing those devil lines along his chest. A chest that rumbled in approval beneath her touch, the sound turning near feral when her hand reached down between them to cup his length through his linen trousers.

In a sudden rush of motion, Naerys found herself on her back, her tunic tossed aside and the cool stone below her pebbling her nipples. Her legs were still hooked around his hips. He knelt there, eyes hooded with desire as they trailed along her own infernal ridges.

She lifted her arms above her head and arched her back to push her breasts up. “Like what you see, blacksmith?”

His nostrils flared and he fell upon her. Mouths clashed, tails thrashed. Before either of them knew it, their bodies moved together without the restrictions of clothing. The ridged length of his cock slid against her clit, eliciting a breathy moan from her.

“Dammon,” she whined as the head of him just barely slid into her folds. She tilted her hips upwards in an effort to take him in further, but he denied her.

“Say it again,” he growled against her skin.

“Dammon,” she said again, and he slammed into her with a harsh growl. Hells, how well he filled her.

“Again.” His voice was rough and ragged in barely restrained ardor.

“Dammon.” Her voice came out as a gasp as his hips rolled back, only to slam forward again. Any control he may have disillusioned himself to have evaporated the moment her nails dug into his back, and her thighs clenched around his waist. Over and over he thrust into her, the ridges adorning his cock catching against her inner walls and heightening both their pleasure. Their voices rang out into the night, uncaring of who might hear.

Frenzied. Frantic. Perfect.

They lost themselves to each other, chasing the high of pleasure until Naerys arched into him with a shuddering cry. Her walls gripped at him and he rolled into his climax shortly after her. Deep, so impossibly deep, she milked him for everything he had to give. The intensity of his release sent spasms through him, and his body jerked while she continued to grind herself against him.

“Naerys,” he ground out her name with another guttural growl. Still, her hips worked him into thorough overstimulation until he spilled into her again with a strangled cry. His body jerked and shuddered with his panting cries, and the twitching of him inside her sent her into another trembling climax.

***

The following morning didn’t bring any of the awkwardness that Naerys expected. At least not between Dammon and herself.

The pair had snuck back into camp as the sky began to lighten in the earliest hours of the morn, where they had more forays in her tent- these much quieter but not any less frenzied. She awoke to her head resting on his chest and his hand trailing circles on her shoulder. Warmth bloomed in her chest, as she fully expected him to have slipped back to his own camp sometime in the night.

She lifted her head and met his lips with hers in a much gentler kiss than the ones shared the previous night. When she sat up, she could feel that her body was sore in all the right ways. He sat up beside her and rested his forehead against hers. Outside the tent came the sounds of the refugees making final preparations before departure. Excitement permeated the air, but the pair exchanged a solemn glance. It felt too soon to let go of whatever this was, but Naerys knew better than to form attachments, anyway. It always ended badly in her world.

They dressed, sharing touches and kisses as they went, and left her tent. Naerys pointedly ignored the waggling eyebrows and knowing grins of her companions when they saw the blacksmith sauntering away to gather the last of his belongings. No questions were asked over breakfast, to which Naerys was eternally grateful. The group packed up their own camp and then headed into the grove to lend aid wherever it was needed.

With the wagons lined up, it was time to send the refugees on their way. Naerys and her companions made their goodbyes to the new friends they made, with promises of reuniting in the city.

“Find me in Baldur’s Gate,” Dammon murmured to her, tilting her chin up to kiss her. So terribly sweet, and in broad view of anyone that cared to look. He knew the companion’s work in the valley wasn’t done, and he knew better than to beg her to go with him. If it was meant to be, their paths would cross again.

But they would always remember what they shared together the previous night.

[wisp-of-chaos]

OC Kiss Week 2024 - Day 3

Day 3's prompt was "Sunrise". This prompt got a little shorter than the previous ones but is packed with some conflicing emotions!

Once again, this features my OC and that of a friend, who are illithids and don't really have a mouth and instead use soft headbutts to express their affection.

"Sunrise" is set 2 years after "Rain". Enjoy either here, under the cut or over at Ao3!

Day 3 - Sunrise

Vlassk and Larik were still tightly tangled into each others arms when the sun rose the next morning.

Their tentacles were curling and lazily stroking each other as their minds slowly but steadily returned to full consciousness. The first thing Vlassk noticed was the soft brush of content happiness seeping from Larik’s mind into his own and prompting his tentacles to curl up with a smile.

Humming quietly, he shuffled closer and nuzzled his face against Larik’s chest; soaking up all his warmth and the tender feeling of closeness. Of belonging.

He remembered their night together fondly. How they had held each other as they made love under the stars, their bodies and minds connected as a whole as they moved with the rhythm of the waves and whispered sweet nothings at each other. The way they had kissed and gasped and thought together. What a perfect fit they had been, as if precisely made for each other. How badly Vlassk had wanted to tell Larik that he loved him, and yet …

… yet he had pushed that particular thought down and locked it far, far away. For no matter how much Larik meant to him and how painful it was to even entertain the idea of a future without him, he deserved so much better than him.

He deserved someone that wasn’t broken and shattered and packing too many issues to count or even remember. Larik deserved someone that wouldn’t tumble down a panic attack when touched the wrong way or a wrong word was said; who wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night and weep uncontrollably and reach for the hairpin hidden beneath his pillow to bury into his skin to make the memories and pain go away.

He deserved someone normal and fine and whole. Someone, that wasn’t Vlassk.

A deep, heavy ache settled over Vlassk’s mind and heart at that thought and made his eyes burn and sting, yet he didn’t allow the forming tears to spill. He breathed; slow and shaky and forced those feelings into the depths of his heart alongside those three words he was dying to say and simultaneously scared to do so. Those words were dangerous and held great power; and once said he wouldn’t be able to take them back. Wouldn’t be able to contain them.

Vlassk’s vision blurred and his breath quivered but he stubbornly refused himself to express his rising emotions.Not here, he told his heart and turned to glance at Larik’s sleeping, relaxed face; his smile hesitantly returning. Not now.

He listened to his breathing as he watched him, memorizing each and every beloved detail about his face and felt melancholy wrapping around his mind like a warm, rough blanket; trying to soothe but only making things worse.

He remembered the previous night and how perfect everything had been. If only that night wouldn’t have ended. If only the sun wouldn’t be rising and destroying this pretty little lie of a happy, careless life at Larik’s side. But Vlassk had made a promise to himself the previous day when Mar’reen had taken the kids home to give the both of them some privacy; when their hands had brushed and their eyes met and their desire rose.

Only this once, Vlassk had told himself as he surrendered to both Larik and his own feelings. Only for today I will allow myself to give in to the fantasy of love.

And now, it was time to adhere to this promise, no matter how painful or hard it was. He simply couldn’t permit Larik to be bound to his pathetic self; to his many problems and issues and shortcomings. To his defects and failures.

No, he reassured himself with a sharp pull inside his chest, this is for the best. Larik deserves better than this. Better than me. He deserves a happiness without burden.

Untangling an arm, Vlassk gave Larik’s face a gentle caress and felt another stab at his heart when he leaned into the touch and purred approvingly before slowly blinking his eyes open and greeting him with a sleepy smile.

“Good morning, my siren”, he said and nuzzled into the hand cupping his cheek and nearly broke the control over his emotions when he added: “I had a beautiful dream last night.”

Vlassk’s heart cracked yet he forced himself to smile and avoided Larik seeing his eyes growing damp by leaning in and pressing his head against his in a soft and bittersweet kiss. “Yeah”, he said and heard his heart splintering into a million pieces as he tried to prolong their last kiss as much as possible, “me too.”

[gubsgames]

Tavuary Day 3: Hugs!

It's the third day of #Tavuary! There are two ways to participate by either following the Week-by-Week Prompts (Week One is "Fluff") or by using the Day-by-Day prompts found in this post! Fic Title: Shield Pairing: Astarion x Dandy (my Halfling Bard Tav) Warnings: Mentions of blood, a bit sad but still fluffy Summary: Exploring the moments after Astarion loses his sun-protection...

Burning. Burning. Burning! All thoughts of victory or heroism or even reward flew from Astarion’s mind as he stumbled across the dock, searching for somewhere — anywhere — that he could hide from the sun. His skin sizzled; the sound of it, the smell, it would have sickened him if he was not already filled with primal fear.  Finding a stack of crates, Astarion ducked behind them. If his heart could beat, it would be breaking through his chest. He gulped down unneeded breath in an effort to calm himself, and it was then that it finally occurred to him that he had been wearing a cape the entire time. He could have used it for temporary cover instead of running off like a complete prat. As he reached up to unclasp the cape from his shoulders, embarrassment began to creep over the terror and form a tight ball of anger in his stomach. He eyed the shrinking shadow drawing closer to his foot before bringing his knees to his chest. I just saved the whole bloody world! I helped! I played the selfless hero, and the gods couldn’t give me the one thing that would have made it worth it. One fucking thing… Astarion slammed his knuckles into the stone beneath him, immediately regretting the action as his skin bruised and bled. He was not going to cry; he might have to hide under the ridiculously bright-coloured cloth like a coward, but he refused to lose what was left of his pride. Why did Dandy dye this stupid cape purple? He lamented silently as he rubbed his thumb over the fabric. I guess I did ask her to… but she didn’t have to embroider all these stars on the hem. Decadent frilly creature… In his misery, Astarion did not hear the soft pap-pap-pap of slippers rushing over the cobbles towards him. A new shadow appeared over him, and he blinked up wearily. Speak of the creature, and the creature appears. Dandy practically enveloped him, her hair providing as much cover as the cape would have. With concern-filled eyes, she was checking him over for burns and wounds, cupping his bloodied fist in her delicate hands. She pressed her lips gently to each knuckle. Astarion’s half-hearted laugh was followed by him quipping, “You can’t kiss it better, you know.” He did not want to admit that it did actually make him feel slightly less sullen. “I can try."  Dandy held his injured hand to her chest, and Astarion almost pulled away when he saw the blood soaking into the ribbons of her bodice. They were both coated in all manner of ash, slime, bodily fluids, so blood hardly should have made the difference, but seeing that fresh red bleed through the bodice’s floral pattern made Astarion’s stomach turn for reasons he was not entirely ready to admit.  “I’m sorry,” Dandy’s voice wavered. “I’m so sorry.” 

Astarion tilted his head, panic setting in when the tears began rolling down Dandy’s cheeks. He sat up straighter, brushing her hair aside to better see her face. “Why in all the hells are you crying?”  Dandy shook her head. “It’s not fair: Wyll, Karlach, you! You all deserved more.” “We’re alive,” Astarion paused. “Well, more or less. Wyll gets to be the Blade for a while longer. Karlach can go on smelling the flowers… assuming that Illithids can smell. As for me, I’ll be all right.” Astarion did not know if he was lying. It felt true in the moment. The burning, the pain, while not completely gone, faded temporarily to the background as he pulled Dandy to him, hugging her tightly.  “Just stay with me.” He closed his eyes, focusing on her breath against his neck as they waited for sunset. 

[unicyclehippo]

‘When we get to town, you simply must buy some nicer clothes. Or take some of the ones you’ve entrusted to me,’ Astarion offered pointedly.

Dante frowned at him. ‘Why?’

‘What do you mean why? There’s countless reasons why—not least because what you’re in, I think, could be classified as rags. Where did that illithid pick you up? Off the street?’

There was a subtle thoughtless cruelty to Astarion’s words that Dante noted and set aside. If they didn’t, they would be overcome with urges to cut him until he begged forgiveness, or take his tongue for the suggestion of an insult, or work their dagger between his ribs to see what terrible music those lungs could be coaxed to perform in place of the snide commentary.

‘I don’t recall,’ Dante told him flatly. Their tail twitched.

Astarion tensed. ‘Ah. Yes, of course. Ha ha—quite slipped my mind. Well,’ he eyed their empty hands and pressed on carefully. Dante noted he didn’t sound nearly as condescending. ‘Clothes maketh the man, as they say. A nice dress or cape or suit—who needs memories! You could be whomever you please!’

‘I am who I wish to be.’

‘Naturally. Naturally! And you’re so good at it too.’ Astarion hesitated. Then, his facade lowered a touch more. ‘Look, I didn’t mean to offend you. All I meant was that you’ve been travelling hard and fighting and we’ve amassed a small fortune, most of which you give to me or the others.’ He lifted his hands to show off the faintly magical gloves Dante had scavenged off their latest enemy. ‘If anyone deserves a treat, it’s you. That’s all I meant.’

Dante eyed him coolly, judging his sincerity. It was edged with no small bit of fear of them—an instinctual thing, the shiver of prey—but the sincerity was there. Dante glanced down at their clothes. They were a little bedraggled. And their boots splashed with blood, mostly, but grime of various kinds. They plucked at a dangling thread from their shirt.

‘I might have more luck in persuading folk if I looked nicer,’ they admitted slowly. ‘Intimidation only gets us so far.’

‘Truer words,’ Astarion nodded.

Dante squinted at him. ‘Truer words what?’

He frowned back—then slapped his forehead dramatically. ‘The memory. Right. Truer words were never spoken - another prattling saying.’

‘Hm. I like that one.’

‘Use it as much as you like. As if anyone could stop you.’

They smiled. ‘Truer words.’

//

When they camped that night, Dante dunked themself in the lake and stood there waist deep, considering. The shirt in their hand hung sopping wet. The soap they were using did little for the blood stains, and mostly stung, caustic, at the slash across their hand and wrist they’d taken in the fight. It hurt but it was probably good to do it—goblin weapons were rarely cleaned.

‘Copper for your thoughts?’

‘They’re worth platinum, my friend,’ Dante returned, and turned to smile at Astarion, who lounged by the lakeside.

‘Oh? We’re in a good mood tonight, I see. What’s brought that about?’

‘What’s not to be happy about?’ Dante dragged in a deep breath, tilted their head up to drink in the fathomless sky—an ocean, just as Lae’zel described it, stars like glinting tears, winds like the sweeping currents. ‘It’s a beautiful evening and we still have our lives. We killed monsters and saved a child.’

‘You saved a child.’

Dante returned their attention to the moonlit man. ‘Do you think—‘ They stopped. Let their shirt slither out of their hand to float on the water.

‘Dante? Are you unwell?’ Astarion sat up in a fluid motion, looking half-panicked.

Before he could call out for a healer, Dante held up a hand to stop him. ‘Relax, boar-friend.’

Astarion rolled his eyes at the nickname. ‘I show concern for a boar once… Tell me that won’t be my epithet in whatever epic you’re scribing.’

Dante didn’t answer. Instead, they finished the question they had halted before. ‘Do you think I should have fine clothes?’

‘Whatever do you mean? Of course! We’ve earned plenty enough for whatever clothes you like. Perhaps not magically enchanted, but you could dress in silk head to toe if you liked. In fact, I just might.’

Dante’s smile slipped. ‘No, Astarion. Should I have finery?’ they asked again. ‘You travel with me day and night—you have seen the things I do and say. There is a cruelty in me that would drown the whole world in blood and fire and screams, if I let it.’ Dante’s eyes flickered to the lake. For a second, they saw not the black water and the sky reflected—they stood waist deep in blood, deep red, glorious, iron-tang filling their nose and mouth. They forced the sweet image away. ‘Saving a single child does not balance the red in my ledger. Nor do coins, nor gentle refrains. How could clothes begin to help me in that effort?’

Astarion sat in silence. When Dante finished washing and waded from the lake, he spoke.

‘Clothes cannot do all of that,’ he told them solemnly. ‘But it may help you hold on to who you want to be. Or start to define that person. And that cannot hurt.’

Dante picked up the towel from the fallen tree and slung it around their waist. ‘Truer words, my friend.’ Astarion laughed, and the serious moment gentled. ‘Now come—I came up with a song about that couple we interrupted in the shed and asked Shadowheart to practice her secrecy and not to mention it to Gale. I’m hoping to surprise him with it over dinner.’

[bhaalbabebardlock]

The End

One shot, single chapter; 3,118 words

Tags: major character death warning, smut, F/F

Summary:

Second person Shadowheart POV

After taking her place as Bhaal's chosen, your lover decided at the last moment to destroy the crown and give up her claim. You have one last night together.

*******

~Some is below the cut; the rest is on AO3~

Writing Masterpost | AO3 Link

********

It was so quiet, too quiet really as you ran your fingers through her tangled curls. She was so beautiful. Even now. Even when you knew what was going to happen.

She poured light into every dimmed, aching part of you the way nobody ever had before, or probably ever would again. Her unmatched talent with her blade had astounded you again and again. Her feral grace that she moved with more than once had saved your skin, her hands that didn't have a right to be that gentle tending to your wounds.

She had made a fire start inside of you that was so bright, it blotted out your love for your goddess. For the cruel way Shar had taught you that you needed to be. She held you while you wept, while you grieved the loss of all you had ever known and she held you again after you released your parents from what would have been a tragic ending, a life they didn't deserve after so much sacrifice. She had kissed you a thousand times with a tenderness that you knew was only for you, her nimble fingers touching parts of you maybe nobody ever would again. There was nothing more blissful than the way she would curl up to you at night, her arms wrapping around you as she pressed her face into your hair. As she told you that there was nothing more painfully beautiful than you bathed in the glow of the moon. How wrong she had been, to say there was nothing more beautiful than that when she existed.

You didn't know what you expected, when she accepted her place as his chosen. You certainly hadn't expected her to defy him at the last moment, the light basking her in its glow as she threw that crown into the river below. I want to be free. The freedom she wanted now, that she didn't even understand she wanted before, it was already too late for that.

And Bhaal made sure she knew that. Made sure you both knew that, as her eyes filled with tears, a soft smile ghosting over her face. I will go mad. He will not let me live a happy life. But you could give her a happy ending, couldn't you? You could hold her this way, her head resting in your lap as you pull your fingers through that wild valley of curls, listening to the softness of her breath. You could hold her and you could both remember a time that was softer, when you both believed that you would be able to be together, to find a happy ending amongst the chaos and ruin the illithids had left behind.

You could both remember how much you had loved each other, how much you still loved her even now as you watched her chest rise and fall. Would it be selfish to wake her up? To ask for her undivided attention on this last night between you? You hadn't known what to say when her tear soaked face turned to you and asked you to help her. Help her end this. Let her be free.

You wanted to tell her no. You wanted to pull her into your arms and promise her that you would do whatever it would take to protect her, to save her from this fate, to give her the freedom she wanted. The two of you, together, the way it was supposed to have been. But you had already shown that you were nothing more than something to be rejected, cast aside by one god and her cruel hand. Who were you, as hunted and vilified as you were by the cloister, to try and defy yet another God? To render useless the cruel destiny he had given your lover, to cleave him in two with your own hands instead of consigning her to this? Even if you could pull the moonlight out of your blood and smite him, would it be enough to save her from the rot he made bloom in her skull?

Would it haunt you, that you hadn't tried? That you let her tell you there was no other way but this, for her to lay in your arms and for that light, the only light you have maybe ever known, to leave? Was that justice? That she gets no end better than this after everything she did, everything she sacrificed, everything she was. To you. For you.

Link to the rest on AO3

[viladlind]

fiyero only has to throw a single hurried glance over his shoulder for cold dread to grasp him tightly. balduran is changing. something about this mist, or something about this person in front of them. always the healer, he's torn between turning his attention towards the guardian and keeping it on the dragonborn. it's so much easier to heal when you have other people to do the fighting for you.

   there are a million thoughts he has about balduran and him being an illithid. he hasn't known for terribly long— barely any time at all. and it stung, because in parts, it felt like losing him. the hope he had, however small it was, that whatever balduran was hiding wasn't so terrible, that it wouldn't sever something in their connection.

   and it stung because he only told him now. but doesn't it make sense? hours after his rescue, fiyero killed the first mindflayer he came across with a boot to his skull.

   and still, it stings again.

   ' i'm not his thrall. ' it's spat out like an insult, like something that doesn't even deserve to be on fiyero's tongue. the anger is so overwhelming that his hand trembles with it. it'd be so easy, to let it wash over him, attack the dragonborn with abandon. but balduran is hurt. he calls for fiyero pitifully from where he's stuck. ' he doesn't control me. i defend him of my own volition. '

   fiyero takes a step back. a hand hovers close to balduran's shoulder, his eyes always on the dragonborn. his rapier still held high in the air between the two of them, trying to keep him at bay. in truth, fiyero can't do an awful lot here. he's not equipped for fights this close, none of his spells suited to this. but he can heal. and if they're lucky, he can get them out of here.

   ' i— ' the word gets stuck in his throat. what lies? so many of them. omission is still lying, fiyero knows that, he's been angry about it plenty. but none of them, not a single one, is enough to leave balduran here. he almost shakes his head, grits his teeth. that question may have hit him more than any attack could, but that doesn't mean he has to relent underneath it.

   ' keep your mouth shut, lest i cut off your tongue. you speak falsities you don't know anything about. you don't, if you think this is all there is. he's— yes, he's illithid. i know that. i know. but he's not gone. '

   his free hand starts stringing a song on his harp that sounds much more defined, his fingers quick and efficient. the tiefling keeps talking as the melody grows louder, faster, stronger.

   ' he's still here. and you will not kill him. ' mantle of majesty drapes itself over fiyero's shoulders. he grows taller, his hair a soft blanket around him, longer, longer, longer. even in the dim light, his eyes glow. and behind him, a pair of illusory wings sprout from his back, covering balduran from view. fiyero casts command. ' flee. '

Ansur's wrath is great and terrible and horribly misplaced- because none of this is Fiyero's fault. Fiyero shouldn't have to fight Balduran's battles, and when the tiefling comes running, Balduran realizes that once again, he's made some horrible mistake. ❝ Ansur, don't- ❞ he begins, before he finds Fiyero intercepting the lightning. Gods, what was he thinking?

In truth, the answer was not much, because most of his thoughts were muddled with panic and pain and that oh so foolish hope that maybe, just maybe this could all be resolved. He knows that logically something like that is impossible. He's already faced his fate; this is just some sick joke, isn't it? Or maybe this is how it ends. Balduran finds himself doubled over with a sudden, but sickeningly familiar pain. Like he's been kicked in the gut, like his body wants to turn itself inside-out. He feels disoriented and overwhelmed and he's starving-

Ansur, of course, watches with some sad, distant, knowing look. The dragon is aware of what comes next- or what should come next. It's all the proof he needs, isn't it, that this thing is not Balduran. It hasn't been in a long, long time.

Not very honorable to fight a man unwilling, says the tiefling, and Ansur lets out a sigh. Somewhere between frustrated and disappointed, his eyes flick to the blade at his throat before he grants the tiefling his full attention- "I am putting that thing out of its misery," comes the reply, a low rumble like thunder. "It is a mind flayer, and you would do well to let me finish this." Behind Fiyero, Balduran looks back up, paler than he should be, black veins spreading across his skin. He remembers the first time ...

⎛ You will be beautiful, says the nursemaid. Balduran feels like he's stuck somewhere between life and death- his body is no longer his own, and there's so much he tries to hold onto. You will be perfect. In his thoughts, the nursemaid smiles- a false sweetness. It is a cruel thing, but he's desperate and lonely and- all of those feelings will go away soon. You will be free. Soon.

Soon. ⎠

❝ Fiyero ... ❞ It's such a sad, pitiful sound, like he's choking- but once again by some cruel trick of the gods, something's different. He's found himself stuck, truly, halfway between human and illithid- as if his form was trying to reflect the truth. He belonged with neither. Too aberrant for humans, too human for illithids; it's his own personal curse- the very thing that has denied him so much. ❝ I have only tried to protect you ... keep you safe from ... ❞

"From what? From things like you?" Ansur's rage is suffocating, and Balduran can't seem to figure out how to get his body to move again. If he doesn't get up, he'll die. Fiyero will die- He doesn't want to die, he certainly can't let Fiyero die ⎛ and deep down he knows that if he has to pick one or the other ... he would have to place his faith in the Gith prince, wouldn't he? He knows whose life matters more. He just doesn't know how to say it. Not yet- maybe one day. Maybe sooner than he'd like- ⎠ "You claim to be Balduran and then bring your thrall to serve as your shield? How far have you fallen, then? And you," he nods at Fiyero, "did you know? What lies did it tell you?"

[astrallithid]

Of course Fiyero is curious. It's one of Balduran's favorite traits of his. Curiosity often led to a drive for adventure, a love for life. Long ago, he had been told by a drow that the point of life was to live out loud. It was a sentiment he carried with him until the day he ... well, even then, most of his personality had remained in tact. It was rather hard to show such enthusiasm for just living when he was smothered under the power of the Netherbrain- Truly, it was wonderful to experience it through Fiyero. Now, that link was gone. Gone, but not forgotten. How could he forget all of the things he learned simply by watching the world through Fiyero's eyes? Even if he didn't come to the tiefling every night, he still existed in those dreamless nights. More than that, he'd always remember the nights where he did get to spend time with Fiyero, even if it was only a brief respite from the endless onslaught of the githyanki and the Absolute-

Vividly, he recalls that dream- that night. Fiyero's embrace was warm and comforting, and he hadn't wanted to let go. Except, if he held on, it would've given away too much about how he felt.

How long a while, Fiyero asks, and there's a twinge of sorrow. ❝ Believe me, it was a lifetime ago- ❞

❝ Her name was Belynne. We were ... close. ❞ That was certainly one way of putting it. Belynne Stelmane was his partner and his thrall- at least, as much of a thrall as he could make someone. Balduran had retained too much humanity to do it like other illithids. Ultimately, their bond had ended not too differently from his bond with Ansur. He remembered holding Belynne's hand as she lay bedridden. He pushed her too hard- he never should've told her the truth. Would he have been happy like that?

You felt fleeting. You're warmer.

❝ I am glad to be warmer. I will do my best to give you as many answers as I can- You deserve that ... and more. ❞

   it's not the first time that fiyero considers his guardian's thoughts being out of reach. his mind must be busy, too, right? it would seem only fair, back when he visited his dreams, that roaming in fiyero's mind would allow the tiefling to roam in turn. a bond that gives alongside its taking. that wasn't how it worked.

   his guardian turned over every corner in fiyero's mind. he took, and fiyero couldn't complain because his life was in his hands. the idea of turning into a mindflayer had always horrified him more, outweighed the discomfort of having somebody else in his mind.

   and now that connection is severed, and he feels close, still. all that knowledge can't be taken away from him. he knows the way fiyero's innermost thoughts work, he knows about his past on dovesong.

   he knows how fiyero moves before his limbs can react to the signals sent from his brain. down to the bones, his guardian knows.

   he looks down at the hands in his.

   ' surely, that's not all of it. you felt fleeting, not just the dream you made up for me. ' he wants to say he still feels fleeting. he does. perhaps even moreso now that he no longer sits in fiyero's mind. but he also feels ... quite normal. a simplicity in being two people sitting across each other, hands slotted together, each mind its own.

   why is he so frustrated about the lack of it? perhaps because he still isn't getting any clear answers from his guardian.

   ' ... you're warmer. ' the hug they shared feels distant. they shared it in a dream, after all. ' i'm glad to hear i was warm even in my dreams. it'd have made an awfully depressing embrace, otherwise. ' fiyero falters for a moment, recalls the way his guardian thanked him for a gesture nobody's granted him in a long time. that doesn't feel distant, the affecionate gratitude.

   curiosity pushes him to ask.

   ' when was the last time somebody touched you like this? you mentioned before ... that it was a while. how long a while? '

@astrallithid / ctd

[imperial--orthodoxy]

Some of this I (sort of) cover in regards to good ol Zaknafein in a separate reblog - part of the issue is no knowledge of a way out, but to be quite honest with you by and large there really isn't a way out due to the outside world not being particularly interested in their salvation outside of the aforementioned Followers of Ellistraee. Most of the other denizens of The Underdark aren't any better and the ones that are share a trait much of the surface world does - an understandable hate and fear of the entire race.

As for the priestesses themselves it's difficult to know how much of it is weaknesses they all share or simply Lolth just....not caring. They constantly compete with each other and she definitely is of the mindset that if they couldn't survive on their own wits they deserved to die in the first place. She's certainly no goddess that would care for her priesthood beyond what's absolutely made necessary by the reforms Lord Ao placed at the end of the Time of Troubles. There's a reason why so many Drow eventually see Drizzt as being possibly favored by Lolth.

That said, I'm sorry if I'm not making it clear that I do think that the indoctrination is a big part of it. The problem here is that even during The Time of Troubles the Gods and their followers still held a certain degree of power - the entire fiasco with Bane, Mystra, Cyric, and even others like Mask made it quite apparent that it wasn't so simple as suddenly being completely powerless. I imagine that cult or no cult, they'd have inevitably banded together against common enemies and even against rebellion - the Illithids aren't exactly on my list of people I'd like to live under and neither are the duergar.

Biting and gnawing every single dnd drow sourcebook writer who conspicuously left out the severe indoctrination that is a cornerstone of why menzoberranzan drow society works the way it does (because it’s a cult that teaches its members to fear an out group) and then inserts some chucklefuck excuse like “oh haha this society shouldn’t work, lolth just makes it work” (YOU REMOVED ONE OF THE KEY CONTROL POINTS FOR A CULT. BECAUSE IT’S A CULT)