#mention of soren

[firedragon1321]

Big rant about my Capsule Zaurus stuff below. Mostly about fanworks, copyright, concept art, and how I use copyrighted material in my stuff.

Before I start the rant- I want to mention that I put a lot of links in here. A few go to my artwork. But most provide extra info and clarification. Some of it is because Capsule Zaurus is a pretty overlooked prototype to Digimon, so not all Digi-fans know what it is. Some of it is because I have been in fandom a long time and I lost track of when people stopped using squick and I don't know what the kids use these days. Feel free to click a link if you're confused about anything.

I want to return to my Capsule Zaurus project because Tomoya (the character in the header) is doing that "character wants attention and occupies your thoughts" thing. I really don't want to focus on fanfic right now (mostly because I'm drowning in WIPs). But I don't know if the project counts as original fic, or to what extent.

For the uninitiated, here is a brief timeline of Capsule Zaurus from conception to today.

Bandai draws concept art for a virtual pet game for boys in 1997

Doesn't use it because it's too similar to Pokemon

Puts it in a drawer

Does NOTHING until 2013

Puts it in an artbook

NEVER mentions it again

Fandom posts translations and then sleeps (you can read all the info in the first two links)

I learn about it almost a year ago at an anime con and get inspired

I draw all this stuff- including some redesigns, but also original Zaurus and human characters

I come up with this batshit insane plot and world to go with the concept art

I find myself in a tangle of mostly original ideas, with vestigial but clear connections to Bandai's work

I'm not sure if it should just go to Ao3 or if I should rework my elements and characters into something else

Bandai's Capsule Zaurus isn't a finalized work. It is concept art. I'm a raccoon digging through the trash and taking things Bandai doesn't even want. But chances are they still hold the copyright for it. Not to mention the name likely comes from Pocket Zaurus, which is published and certainly copyrighted.

Putting the work on Ao3 would be extremely tricky, too. It would have to be tagged as Capsule Zaurus- which is not a fandom at the moment- plus Digimon, plus Original Work. This obtuse collection of fandom tags would likely be confusing, and I doubt anyone would read it.

It doesn't help that the story is T at mildest and M at highest. I don't write E-rated content. But that's what people want over there. I've noticed some authors who write both get a lot more hits on their sexy stuff over their tame or gen work, and good gen writers often go ignored.

So if I don't want my story to rot on Ao3, I'd probably have to remove the Zaurus characters entirely and make it original. This seems counterproductive. But it's the more likely route I'd go to preserve my original stuff. I don't want to do that, since I love Digimon and I like the "what could have been" nature of the concept art. But I really hate filing the serial numbers off of shit without acknowledging it as parody/mentioning the creators which...this isn't.

Below are two examples of me acknowledging parody and playing with copyright. Keep in mind I cut my teeth on 2007-era fanfiction, so people were constantly writing "I do not own this" on their shit.

For my Toon-iverse Saga, I have a Character Who's a Lot Like Tai (Soren, actually- it's more obvious in his backstory). But the back of the book credits Bandai/Toei/everyone I can possibly think of. The books are made of characters like this, and calls back to the source material while doing something unique. You don't need to know the original material to understand the plot, though doing so helps if you're looking for Easter Eggs.

Then, there's Zunru, which is a love letter to and critique of Pokemon. You don't need an in-depth knowledge of Pokemon to understand it (though as with the Toon-iverse Saga, it helps with Easter Egg hunting). The first few chapters even seem like "we live in harmony with these wonderful creatures!". But then the charade falls away, and the story reveals itself to be its own animal. At the end of each of these books, there is a credit to "Satoshi Tajiri, GameFreak, and Associated Parties", indicating that this is parody, I acknowledge the original but this is my own thing, etc., etc. Which is more than Temtem/Palworld did, but that's another story.

These are both instance of fair use, with possibly too much butt-covering spurred on by my fanfiction dot net heritage. They aren't like, say, writing a Twilight fanfiction, changing only the names, publishing it, and deleting the evidence. Which I feel trying to publish Capsule Zaurus as it is right now is pretty close to.

I just don't know what to do for Capsule Zaurus. I don't want to focus on fanfiction right now. But Tomoya is screaming against my skull and banging pots and pans. I'm sure I'll find the solution. It might be as simple as changing a few designs a bit more to make them more unique and not using the word "Zaurus". But that's still filing off the serial numbers.

Dammit, Tomoya.

[eroguron0nsense]

Soren and Rajaion

I think sometimes about how Soren's entire identity and all of his insecurities stem from being abandoned and unwanted, and while that's generally associated with his subaltern branded status and the violent oppression that comes along with it/need for secrecy and consequent self hatred, there's also a lot to be said about how he fixates on the constant cruelty and denial of his childhood; in his B support, he expresses some envy over Ike having had loving parents, and repeatedly mentions how the people who raised him either resented having him or kept him around solely because of the false impression he was a spirit charmer rather than any kind of actual affection. His entire life up until he meets Ike is one of rejection and lovelessness, and he preemptively pushes anyone else away and keeps himself distant from anyone else at LEAST until the end of RD. We see him healing through his and Ike's friendship/love, him trying to come to terms with himself and opening up to people to some extent, and quite possibly trying to confront the violent internalized racism and rejection his life has been defined by, but he's still in many ways figuring himself as someone fundamentally unacceptable in his society and who's only able to trust a tiny number or arguably one single person with that identity, which is–unfortunately–true. There are a great many people in PoR/RD who would find him fundamentally unloveable and unacceptable if they clocked him and his very existence opens him up to anything from severe marginalization/exclusion to straight-up "honour killings". Ike isn't just the first friend and (arguably) the only friend Soren's ever had, he's the first person who hasn't immediately considered Soren unloveable and who continues to love him while affirming that the identity he's most ashamed of isn't going to put him in danger of yet another violent rejection

This makes it all the more heartbreaking when we realize that Soren was loved–deeply, in fact–by a family member, who willingly sacrificed his life and personhood in an uncertain bargain with Ashnard to save his infant nephew. Soren's life, which up until this point is regarded as entirely loveless, was regarded as precious enough by Rajaion so that he was willing not only to die for, but to subject himself to unspeakable torture and degradation, and his continued existence was only possible at all due to love and sacrifice that Soren himself will never know about, or realize that people found him worthy of

[ghostly-schematics]

[can-of-tomato-soup]

This post is going to be so fricking oddly specific. It's going to be combining 3 not that popular fandoms so be prepared for the most obscure niche post ever.

Tales from the stinky dragon enjoyers, I want you all to know that the mental image I have of Slique the Symphonius is Fricking Soren from Minecraft Story Mode. Every time I picture Slique in my head I picture the minecraft block character seen in the picture below. That's it thank you

Mistborn enjoyers, I want you all to know that the mental image I have of Breeze is Fricking Soren from Minecraft Story Mode. Every time I picture Breeze in my head I picture the minecraft block character seen in the picture below. That's it thank you

Minecraft Story Mode enjoyers, If you don't know either of the characters that I mentioned above just know that there are two characters that I always picture as Soren. Soren is on my mind even when I'm not actively consuming mcsm related media and I think that's something to celebrate.

[raayllum]

No matter where you are on the path, no matter what you've done before, every step forward is a choice.

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

as someone who absolutely adores ikesoren, I’m so tired of the people who insist that it’s canon. It’s not. Could you interpret it as supported/encouraged by canon? Sure! Absolutely! But it isn’t canon, and the sooner other ikesoren shippers accept that and stop sounding like pretentious assholes the better. Whether or not the ship is canon doesn’t make it better or worse, and frankly it just alienates the people that don’t ship it (as they are free to do!)

(And before someone harps on homophobia: yes yes I understand the want to call it canon because of the way homophobes cry about how Ike could never be gay, etc etc, but listen. I am a gay man and I’m taking you by the shoulders and telling you that it’s not innately homophobic to say ikesoren isn’t canon. Because it just ain’t. Again I absolutely adore the ship, it’s one of my fave FE ships! I’m just tired of other fans of it acting like it’s canon and alienating people that don’t ship it. Frankly I feel the same about every ship that isn’t canon being called canon, but this is the most egregious example imo)

.

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

Bear with me a sec as I talk about my baby boy Corvus.

Name means "crow." Obvi. BUUUUTTTTT, in Native American legends, there's a story of a Rainbow Crow (RAINBOW IS GAY, NEED I SAY MORE?!) with a beautiful song and who brings wisdom and fire to people to help them survive the winter.

Now, I don't know about you, but that reminds me an awful lot of our favorite Tracker going to warn the town, a perpetually wintery one, no less, that's about to be set ablaze. Fire, wisdom, intel.

It's the rainbow that's getting me. I love Corvus. I love him so much.

[lieutenantabrudas]

"well i haven't drawn in a long time so i'll start with something simple," i said. "maybe some headshots," i said.

obviously my return to drawing is going to dive headfirst into the jar of blorbos so obscure they don't even have canon appearances. this is my design for primarch fedorian, the primarch who's killed off-screen in me3 during the reaper war so victus can be in charge. in my writing, his first name is elaphus, and he was a colonel on shanxi under command of general desolas arterius. the incident on shanxi that resulted in his scars and eyepatch also earned him his general's stars, plus some fun medals (including the star of palaven!) and later even helped boost him in the rankings to eventually become primarch of palaven. he's very highly respected by both his own people and aliens, and even gets the bow of approval from his former CO himself; even aliens who aren't generally keen on turians tend to admit fedorian is a good'un.

he's also frequently high on turian gossip rag empire weekly's list of top most desirable drakes in the empire, because look at him. he's tragically straight and devoted to his wife but hey celebrity crushes ain't a crime

[stuck-in-jelly]

I never read the short stories for The Dragon Prince and I’m crying

I understand whole heartedly why some of this couldn’t be explored in the show or in the books but the way this is all laid out how subtle it is in the show vs how loud it is on paper.

His unresolved grief, guilt, and fear that still grips him, so much so that even for a brief moment he is a child again. Curled up and scared, unable to breathe.

Soren was brought back to life out of love but then tossed aside and abandoned by his own family for an action he was never a part of.

Soren laughs and smiles and jokes but his memories haunt him.

Whoever’s writing these short stories either needs a raise or to come apologize to me personally with tears oh my god

[elvesdragonsanddarkmagic]

The previous owner's stuff

[minecraftcorrectmode]

Magnus, to Soren: Soren has no idea I'm drunk.

Soren: You're drunk?

Magnus: Oh. Sorry.

Magnus, turning to Gabriel: Soren has no idea I'm drunk.

[madou-dilou]

TDP writers watching The Hobbit: "Yeah, the citizens of Lake Town kinda deserved it."

[martianbugsbunny]

Locked In This Embrace (An Espionage Husbands Fic)

*Shapeshifts from being a filing cabinet* So funny story, this started out as like, a good old fashioned scene rewrite fic where I just thieved the dialogue from the show itself and added some inner monologue and of course my own twist at the end bc otherwise what's the point? and OF COURSE the scene I picked was the forehead touch scene between Nick and Talos, I'm obsessed with it. It was supposed to be basically just that scene plus a romantic end, real short and sweet.

It kind of got away from me and consumed several hours of my life. I analyzed the scene itself so a lot of the gestures Talos makes in the fic are actually what he was doing onscreen. His inner monologue is matched to the canon gestures/facial expressions and I swear on the ship it works so well he could actually be thinking that stuff in canon. At this point half or less of the fic is the actual scene rewrite, that's how much of my own material I added.

...and yes, the title is derived from a post I made earlier about this exact scene. It's maybe not the best title but that's my weak spot so that's how it is.

Here's my offering to the blorbo gods and the Espionage Husbands fandom, read on and enjoy!

“I am so sorry,” Fury said.

“Me too,” Talos replied, his voice low. He savored the feeling of Furys forehead pressed against his, sharing space, breathing the same air; he had lost one love, but the other lived, and the fact that Fury cared enough to meet him with a Skrull embrace rather than a Human one returned a bit of the warmth to his heart that he had lost when Soren died. “Soren loved you,” he said. It felt right to remind Fury of that—Fury, who had cared for her almost as much as Talos had.

“But she worried, mate,” he went on (he was never quite sure if he was using that word in the Human context of "friend" or in the Skrull one of "partner"), “That it would take something like this to bring you back to Earth.”

Fury pulled away to look Talos in the eyes. “I guess she was right,” Talos finished.

For a moment, Fury said nothing. Talos wondered if he knew that the word ‘Earth’ was never the one that he or Soren had used when worrying over Fury’s absence from their lives. Talos remembered her saying, only a few days before she died, “I’m afraid of what it will take to bring him back to us.”

But Fury didn’t know that.

He cupped his hands around Talos’s face for a brief moment; far too little time, yet so precious, and then let go and sighed heavily. “Tell me about Gravik,” he said, and Talos tried not to let it show in his face how horribly heartbroken he was that Fury could move on from such a personal moment so quickly. Fury was back for Earth, not for…well, now it was just him. Even if he did feel for Talos the way Talos did for him, which Talos had never been able to decipher or been bold enough to ask, there were more important things to do than trying to determine where the two of them stood.

And still…Talos was never one to let things go. “Let’s just talk about you first,” he suggested. “We’ve been helping you for all these years, to ensure that you kept your promise. But after the Blip…you were different.” Life during those five years had been a nightmare for Talos, even though he had survived. It was terribly complicated, being grateful that his wife and daughter had been spared, and yet grieving the loss of Nick like the loss of his soul. If he hadn’t had Soren to lean on, Talos hated to think of how completely the darkness would have enveloped him.

“You disappeared.” That was the final pang. After all the agony of the Blip, Fury had been returned to life and Talos had, for a moment, hoped he could finally ask, once and for all, where their relationship truly stood. And then—he was gone. Settled in space, almost as lost to Talos as he had been when he was dead.

“Carol Danvers disappeared,” Talos said. She, like Fury, was supposed to be helping the Skrulls find a home. He was less angry at her, though, because she wasn’t Fury. She didn’t occupy that same space in his heart. “And—so did G’iah.”

Fury turned to him. “Your daughter disappeared? To where?”

“She was young. Angry that our people still don’t have a home.” G’iah was the one person he loved more than Fury, and Talos didn’t hesitate to defend her to him, even though he was utterly disappointed in her decisions. But like he said, G’iah wasn’t evil. A lot of rebel Skrulls weren’t. Just angry.

“Many of them were upset. I got kicked off the Council, pushed into exile, but Gravik—Gravik, mate, he took your abandonment—” Talos couldn’t quite look Fury in the eyes where he said that word—“that much harder.”

When they went back downstairs so Maria Hill could brief Fury on the rebel Skrulls, Talos tried not to read too much into it that Fury sat next to her, on the complete opposite end of the table from himself. She was, after all, the closest friend Fury had.

He also hated that, as the only Skrull at the table, it was his job to break the news to Fury just how precarious the Gravik situation was. “We brought you here for a reason,” he said. A far heftier one than my broken heart, he reminded himself, realizing that it was probably about to get a lot more cracked. “If he succeeds…your species will cease to exist.”

Fury stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back from the table. “Shit,” he muttered. “I’m going for a walk.”

“You’re going for a walk—in Moscow, at night?—You’re gonna stand out.” Even if he couldn’t meet Fury’s gaze, Talos couldn’t resist the urge to warn him off from getting hurt.

And then just like that he was gone.

Talos stared at Maria across the table. He didn’t care that his expression was probably giving away how he was feeling—he wasn’t even sure what label to put on it, so why should he bother to hide it?

“He loves you, you know,” she said, after a drawn-out moment of silence. “When I told him I was calling at your request…well, his tone changed awful quickly.”

That was the call where not only had Fury been summoned back to Earth, he had also learned of Soren’s death. Talos had insisted Maria tell him; the wound was too fresh, and he hadn’t wanted the first time he saw Nick after all those years to be a moment for breaking bad news.

“I’m not so sure,” Talos answered. He got up to look through the fridge—he didn’t truly like a lot of human food, but there were some fruits that tasted nearly identical to Skrull produce, and he kept a stock of them whenever possible. He pulled out a half-eaten can of lychees and a fork from the silverware drawer. “He left.”

Maria followed him to the kitchen area, leaning against the small counter. “The Blip hurt everyone, Talos. The rest of the world may not think so, but you and I know that he’s only human. He needed the time away.”

“He could have spent it with us.” “Why are you so hung up on that? I know you missed him—”

“Missed him?” Talos shoved the can to the side and turned towards Maria. “If you can say that lungs would ‘miss’ oxygen or that veins would ‘miss’ blood, then yeah. I missed him.” He buried his head in his hands. “It wasn’t just those five years, Maria. For decades I’ve wondered if he loved me, always too afraid to hear that answer was no to even ask, always sure that if he felt so, he would tell me.”

“You could have told him how you felt,” Maria reminded him.

“I could have. And he could have. We wasted all that time and I just—I can’t help but believe that if he had been down here with us, like he should’ve been, maybe he could have done what I couldn’t. Maybe Soren would still be alive.”

He abandoned us, Talos wanted to say. It was what most Skrulls believed about Nick Fury, although Talos could’ve told them they had no idea what it was to be abandoned by him.

Soren had never made a secret of her affection for Fury; all those years locked away from her husband in Mar-Vell’s lab had taught her how precious love was, and how freely it should be expressed. Talos, on the other hand, feared rejection. Loneliness. Ages of being hunted by the Kree, mistrusted and reviled by other species, had taught him that. And yet…with Soren by his side, it was always clear that Fury had a home with them if he wanted it. And Fury had accepted that offer and lived with them from time to time, his nearness and his close relationship with Soren driving Talos mad.

Why did he give up that home when they needed so badly to see him alive and well after his death?

Suddenly Talos remembered something else Soren had said. They had been washing dishes together, while Fury was in the living room admiring some drawings that G’iah had made.

“You’re a stubborn man, Talos. And I love you for it. Anyone else might have given up on finding us again.” She handed him a plate to dry. “But…I wonder what it would take for you to take a leap of faith.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” (He did.)

“Hand him your heart, Talos, and trust him not to break it.”

Soren had been able to do it all that time, and it had never cost her. Yet even now, when he was finally reunited with Fury, Talos had only been able to give him Soren’s love, and not his own.

It was on him as much as it was on Fury that they had never determined what they were to each other. And it was his inability to protect Soren, not Fury’s absence from them, that had cost Soren her life, Talos decided.

When Fury finally returned from his walk (and a kidnapping, Talos was alarmed to hear) he informed them that he had set up a bug in an associate’s house and was expecting to get new intel on Gravik’s plans soon. Maria took charge of setting up their end of the surveillance equipment, and Talos determined to take his chance and do what Soren had advised him to do years ago.

“Fury, can I talk to you for a moment?” he asked. He noticed Maria smirking and wanted to sigh. “It’s….” Not information on which the fate of Earth or Humanity hung, but still….“Important.”

To Talos's surprise, Fury’s irritation with him had entirely dissipated, no doubt in light of the new information they were about to get. They went back up to the roof and stood looking out at the city together, the silence amiable.

Talos reached over and took Fury’s hand. His fingers were cold. “I’ve always loved you,” he said, staring straight ahead. “And I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

Fury smiled. “I had guessed. Figured you would say it when you were ready—didn’t quite expect that to take three decades.” He pulled Talos close and repeated the Skrull forehead touch they had done earlier, their fingers still intertwined. A single tear slipped down Talos’s face. “I love you too.”

[inkshine]

Do you think Rowan was ever having a meltdown about seeing visions of death and doom and was like "We're all gonna DIE-!" and Soren was like "Not if I can help it :) if you'd only follow me in worship of the Blessed Mother of Stones-" and it either a) just freaked Rowan out more or b) weirded Rowan out so much he stopped freaking out.

[fates-calling]

Gratitude

CW: Sexual assault mention/illusion + discussion | victim blaming (?) 

Note: no one outright victim blames anyone, but Soren has very messy and complicated feelings about what happened!

Featuring: Soren (OC) & Astarion

Word Count: 2, 226 

Other Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Astarion is pinning the poor guy | Mentioned Tav x Astarion | Implied Tav x Gale

Synopsis:

Soren knew that breaking into the House of Hope was a risky gamble. He was prepared to give his life to get that hammer. He never thought he would have to give his body...

He scrubbed at his skin, blood, and soot turning the clear water of the tub beneath him a murky color. Usually, his baths were so much more than just hot water inside of a wooden basin, but he didn't have the patience to do this right. No bubbles and no scented aromas were added to this one, the way the bard liked it. He just needed to be clean. Soren wasn't even concerned about washing away the blood and soot, no, the reason he was scrubbing his arms raw: was to get rid of its touch. He knew what was at stake when he agreed to lie in bed with the succubus. Soren had known exactly what he was getting himself into, he was well-read on all things demonic and devilish. 

It didn't make his skin crawl any less. His stomach was still twisting itself into knots of guilt about it, Gale was still giving him the silent treatment. It had been the only way to avoid a fight! The easiest way to gain access to the hammer. Lae'zel and her people needed Orpheus. So what if Soren lost a bit of bodily autonomy on the way? He has given more for less. There was no way he would agree to a deal with Raphael, so, breaking into his house had been their best choice. The bard just never thought - he would lose so much. He grits his teeth and drags the soap impossibly harder along his arm. He can feel phantom hot hands on them still. 

He was pissed too, which didn't help as he white-knuckled the poor soap bar. It was threatening to crack beneath his hand. He has tried to explain to Gale a thousand times why he did it! To all of them. Lae'zel was the only one who seemed grateful. She had looked, shocked, afterward. As if she couldn't believe someone would give up so much for her. For a cause that wasn't even his own. He had gotten lectured and told off by most of his other companions for being foolish. For doing something reckless, and that they could have found another way. 

Except. Astarion.

 Soren paused in his vicious scrubbing, as he recalled how the vampire reacted when not five minutes after they left the House of Hope: the bard had felt what was his new curse. Had felt those phantom hands. He had tried to enjoy the sensation, but, soon bile had risen in the back of his throat. His head had spun. This would be forever. He was owned. Not his soul, but his body. The white-haired man had taken notice of the sound that slipped from him.  The way he had been so angry on his behalf. Told him that he shouldn't have to deal with it. How Astarion had looked so sad when Soren emerged from the room, roughed up and marked. 

He knew what it was like. The bard combs a hand through his wet hair and winces. Inside of his chest, further guilt stabs through his being. Swirling thoughts of regret and disgust with himself form. Forgetting all about his pain. It's his nature. He likely reminded his closest friend of all kinds of horrible memories. All the time he used his body to lure victims back to Cazador. How many hands haunt Astarion's body…? The tips of the elf’s ears twitch as he hears footsteps. Soren turns his head to look, catching sight of Astarion. A towel is draped over his arm, he leans against the wall of the bathroom. Staying in the tavern has been a godsend. 

Soren doesn't bother to cover up, even as he feels the vampire's eyes trace over his top half that is above water. He has seen him naked before, and vice versa. Astarion also has soot all over him, and the scent of sulfur hangs in the air. The bard turns away, “I'll be out in a moment, you won't have to wait much longer.” 

The vampire shakes his head and seems to steel himself a bit. He stops leaning against the wall and approaches the tub, Soren eyes him with a bit of wariness. Questioning his motives. The towel is laid on a rack. 

“How are you feeling?” These are not the words that Soren expected to hear. His brows furrowed as he looked at the rouge, who absentmindedly fiddled with his nails. Cleaning blood out from under them. 

The bard shrugs and gives him a cheeky smile. A classic disarming, and well, avoidant one. “Clean.” 

“That's not what I was asking about.” there is almost an exasperated tone to the vampire's voice. Soren begins to stand up, reaching for the towel. The bard's face has twisted up into a bit of a frown. He doesn't want to do this right now. What he feels doesn't matter. It never has. Lae’zel got what she needed. She will be able to help free the Githyanki people. That is what matters. The vampire places his hands on the side of the tub and stands in front of Soren, blocking the taller man in. 

“You don't get to run from this.” There is a demand in his voice and features, his eyes blazing with a strange anger that Soren has only seen on rare occasions. The man is usually so cool-headed or pretends to be. Tries to always be aloof. “Not this time, darling, sorry.” 

He doesn't sound sorry at all. Soren huffs and splashes back down into the tub, smirking as he watches Astarion crinkle his nose as he gets wet. But the vampire doesn't move from his guarding position. His camp leader simply crosses his arms over his chest, and huffs staring off out the window before him. The sun is beginning to set, casting warm yellow and orange light over everything. Astarion can't help but admire the man before him for a moment, before reminding himself why he came here. 

He can still see strange red marks in the form of fingerprints on Soren. As if mildly burned. How there are lines from blunt nails running up and down his arms, those, clearly from Soren himself. Trying to claw it away it seems. He swallows. He knows the feeling too well, and he has a twisting feeling inside of his gut: it isn't the first time. Soren took it too - well. As strange as the thought is. Too easily gave over his body without so much as a flinch. Without fight. Just took it. 

The silence is broken as the bard speaks, “This wasn't the first time I have used my body to get out of a tight spot. I'm fine.” 

His tone is bordering on anger, clearly meant to tell his companion that this conversation: is over. There will be no more discussion. Astarion almost winced. He knew it. He had seen that strange disassociated look that had come across the bard's face when he stripped down before Harleep. It was a look the vampire knew he had carried. He had seen it on his fellow spawn before. So different than when Soren had been with him in the woods. How his different colored eyes had been lit up, moonlight dancing off the bright yellow and blue. 

He brings himself back to focus again, “I don't fucking care if it wasn't the first time. It -” he chokes.

 Everything telling him to back out of this. To stop before he ends up exposing himself. He pushes through his thoughts. Soren needs help. Soren needs someone. But, oh, why the Hells does it have to be him? Where are all his morally good and mushy campmates now? More importantly: where the fuck is Gale? He looks down at the floor as he speaks, his voice a soft whisper. 

“No matter how many times it happens, it never gets better.” he can feel Soren's eyes on him, weeping with his ever-present empathy. Never pity. Not once has he ever seen the man pity someone. No, he only feels for them. Understands and listens. And when he can, no matter the cost to himself, he helps. He gives so much and asks for nothing. Except, maybe, coin. Around all of his sharp words and clever jests. Every leer and joke he makes at others' expense is a man who just wants the world to love him. A man who is always performing. Astarion doesn't need a mirror, Soren was right about that. He is his mirror. 

He doesn't know what the bard sees in him, but, Astarion has never been more determined to keep someone in his life. To - ew - help someone. 

Soren swallows hard, feeling as if the silence between them suffocates him. 

“It doesn't.” He admits and there is a crack in his voice. He tries to hold back the tears. How long has it been since he cried? Decades? Perhaps even more. “I - I just… I never thought - I just wanted to - I needed to -” 

He stares at the murky water beneath him. Staring at his reflection, still frazzled and mostly dirty from their entire escapade. Probably the most unkept he has been the entire adventure. He closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath in and out. 

“I feel guilty.” The words leave in a hushed rush, and waves of nausea seem to crash through the elf. Why did he say that? Why did he admit to his weaknesses? "Everyone is pissed at me for it. Gale is - fuck, Gale is beyond pissed. But I had to, Astarion. We were already risking a fight with Raphael I couldn't have us risk another and because I wanted to help Hope we were already so tired and injured…” he tries to lighten the weight of his words a bit. “I mean, I was also dreadfully curious, to be honest. Raphael is my type.” 

Astarion tries for his sake to be a bit amused, but, he can't. His long ears are pinning themselves down to the sides of his head. 

The bard's face morphs from this sad, broken look to anger quickly. Switching on the dime. “I would do it a thousand times over for that hammer. I just wish…wish it wasn't me. Or that I didn't have to at all. But then… I - I would be a failure. Break my promise to Voss and Lae'zel. But everybody is acting as if I fucked up somehow! Like there were better options!” he slams his hand against the side of the tub rattling the wood. “I give and I give and I give! For all of you! To all of you! I -”

His anger deflates and he sinks, looking so much smaller than he is. “You'd think I would learn.”

The tears have fallen now. Sliding down his face silently, leaving tracks of pain down his features. Suddenly, cold arms made of stringy muscle are wrapping around him from behind. He doesn't even react to the strange temperature of the vampire's body. He feels chills go down his spine, as Astarion buries his face into his neck. His soft curls brushed up against Soren as well. The vampire doesn't even know truly, why he went for a hug. It felt right. Though he has nothing but observing other people to understand how to comfort someone. He was happy it worked, as he felt the elf shift and heard water splash as he spun around to face him. Returning the hug in earnest. 

Astarion mumbles into the man's neck, “Don't worry about Gale or any of the others. They don't - get it. They'll come around and see their mistakes, I'm sure of it, and give you sappy apologies for how they acted.” A bit of a sharp grin flickers into his features, a dangerous gleam of mild threat in his eyes. As he squeezes the man in his arms a bit tighter. Oh, he is such a fool. He should have realized he would fall for him. “They better. Or, I'll cut it out of them for you.”

Soren laughs, “You'd do that for me?” 

Astarion pulls back from the hug a bit to look at the bard’s face, “You'd do it for me and then some. So, oddly enough, yes.” 

“I'll make a hero of you yet!” Soren chirps back and the vampire groans, pulling out of the hug. He instantly misses the warmth of the elf's body. 

“Ugh, don’t say that. If you were anyone else I wouldn't even be here.” Astarion points out of the bathroom, “Now, darling, do get out of the tub. Other people want to bathe, you dragged us through Avernus and decided you got to take one first.” 

Soren shakes his head, knowing the words were in good spirits. Not taking the jab personally at all. He grabbed the towel the vampire had brought for him, and stepped out of the tub. Wrapping it about his waist, he went to leave, he could grab his gear later. He paused and dragged the vampire into a quick hug again as he passed him. 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Astarion swore his heart fluttered inside of his chest, as these strange cozy-warm feelings filled his body. Every nerve felt like it had been stroked with a delicate hand. His face flamed with pink, as Soren drew away and walked out of sight.

He's doomed. 

[raayllum]

And then you called me a mage, and that felt right. (1x04) / Callum, I know you love magic, but I hope you're careful. Because it can change people. (4x04) / Who am I if I'm not a mage? (Callum's Spellbook)