#not being an elf. so it's not enough for the person who found her and to be her first friend to just be another elf

[toxycodone]

Chimera!Falin x Reader

an. separated w/ general sfw and nsfw hcs. reader is an adventurer who happens to catch the Red Dragon’s interest….

tw. monster fucking, predator/prey dynamics

sfw.

Now…being a lone adventurer is difficult. Especially in your case. Not only are you prey to almost anything in the dungeon, but you’ve found yourself prey to its most apex predator—The Red Dragon.

Well, at least you think? Oddly enough…for a dragon, it’s very pretty. You don’t remember hearing about it having a human head and torso. With pretty blonde hair and golden eyes…Gods, she’s beautiful…

That’s what you’re thinking in the back of the mind while the Dragon pins you down with one hefty paw. It’s insane how large it is compared to you. One look to the side and you can see the large claw is longer than the length of your head. However, despite this position…it doesn’t hurt, per se. She has enough weigh on you to make you hesitant to breathe too deeply, but, she isn’t killing you….which is odd.

When you finally look to the dragon, you’re shocked to see her so close to your face.

“Not Delgal…” She whispers in a hoarse voice. You don’t know who that is, or why the Dragon or all creatures is looking for this person but…okay. As you brace yourself for what’s next, the Dragon grasps your face in her human ones. They’re soft and plush.

She brings her face to yours and licks a long stipe up it with her forked tongue, cleaning off some semi-dried blood of your companions. Her breath smells slightly coppery as she does so.

“Still good.” She nuzzles into your face, her feathers tickling your skin.

It's fucking weird. And you're not sure if you hate it or you love it. But hey...at least you're alive?

Since then, you've basically become the Dragon's little pet. She doesn't speak much, and you figure it must have something to do with her being some sort of chimera monstrosity, but she at least has the decency to introduce herself to you as Falin.

You also get confronted by Thistle...you thought the elf might help you. But no. He just sighs when he sees Falin drag you along with her. If it makes her happy, he's not arguing against it. Sorry. You're trapped.

But at least Falin is a good caretaker. She watches over you like a hawk. A big, scary, red dragony hawk. Even if you're just sitting around, enjoying the scenery...she just stares. with that disgustingly cute little smile of hers.

When the two of you travel together, she likes it when you ride on her back, but she also stores you in her thick plumage on the front of her body too. Her favorite is to carry you in her own human arms and walk around with you like you're some sort of stuffed animal. It's...kinda adorable. Maybe more cute if you weren't lowkey kidnapped.

If any adventurers dare harm you...it's over for them. You learned quickly to either look away or hide somewhere, because Falgon shows no mercy. As cute and sweet as she can be, she's equally deadly.

And you don't hide very far away...escaping is futile. Plus it becomes a fun game for her. It's literal cat and mouse. She can smell you. Sense you. It doesn't matter. She'll crush walls and buildings to get to you.

And if you run, it makes it worse. She'll catch you like a bug, her scaly front feet cage you in as she pounces on you. Then she just...dangles you and plays with you like a mouse.

She feels bad afterwards. It's hard for Falin to know her own strength in this form. She often accidentally scratches or bruises you. To make up for it, she'll sing a little lullaby and use her healing magic on you. It always lulls you into the most restful slumber you've had, no matter how much pain you're in or how scared you are.

After a little time, things do become oddly? Domestic?

Falin bathes you as often as possible. She likes to help get you clean as a bonding activity. She's really gentle and calm in these moments--the two of you just bathing in a nice dungeon waterfall or somewhere in the golden kingdom.

In return, you help her preen! You gently pick out pin feathers and brush off feather dust while she trills in happiness and coos at you. It's probably one of your favorite things to do as she just hums sweetly and lets you do it. She also likes it when you do her hair (adventurers are definitely left wondering why the Red Dragon has braids or double buns)

She also forages and hunts for you. Little berries? Snack for you! Is there a nice fruit tree on the floor you're exploring? She's hopping up there and picking you enough to eat all day.

Falin also uh. will hunt. After you scold her for dropping a giant monster carcass on you she learns not to do it again but hey? it was kinda funny. From then on she only brings you things she knows you can cook

And as typical...she has a nest. It's not anything crazy, but it's a cozy little thing made of foilage, her feathers, and other soft materials she found in the dungeon. When it's time to go to bed, she lets you lay down first and cuddles around you like a cat. Or she'll let you lay on her and cozy into her feathers. Her soft down feels like a cloud and you just sink in <3 it's adorable.

nsfw.

I'M ON TEAM FALIN CHIMERA DICK.

Since you're her prized treasure...her everything...naturally she views you as her mate.

That means, she gets into ruts. It's only natural for her to want to breed with you, right? Plus, she likes to make you feel good.

However...she is WAY too big to even begin to think to fit inside you. You could probably fucking grapple her if you wanted to. So sex between the two of you is pretty...interesting.

When she trills, the vibrations are intense. If you're sitting on her front and preening her, it's extremely difficult for you to keep your composure while you're doing this. She knows it, and does it on purpose. The vibrations run from her chest, to your thighs and up your spine. Eventually, a simple preening turns to you desperately humping her chest while she just smiles and watches you.

One of her favorite things to do though is hold you in one paw and give you oral. You're distended in the air, held tight by her claws. Then you feel her soft, warm human hands spread your thighs open and lap at you. It's enthralling to knows this creature that could easily snap you in half could just. Do that. And she makes the sweetest little moans and hums while she tastes you. You almost forget she's a chimera with the soul of a literal dragon.

You can fuck yourself on one of her claws or the tip of her tail. She'll round out a claw (just in case, Falin doesn't wanna hurt you) so you can ride it like a dildo and see how much you can take. Same with the tip of her tail. Falin just lays down and moves it in and out, slowly but surely stretching you out while you cry out. Her face is almost as red as her body while she watches you do this with hungry eyes.

Even though it's impossible to fit her cock inside you, goddamnit, you try. You can barely even get 3/4 of the head in, but it's cute to watch your tiny body give it an attempt. Awww, you're that desperate for her? Cute. When she gets too pent up from all the teasing, though, Falin just grasps you with her claws and slides you up and down her length. Grinding against her is heavenly. It coats your body in slick and your own cum and eventually....hers. She cums enough that you need a bath afterwards. But if you don't have time, she'll happily lick you clean. (And spend extra time between your thighs, making you cum again on her face)

And she is...a biter. She can't help it. You're her mate. Falin sinks her teeth into the soft flesh of your thighs, your ass, and your shoulders the most. She loves the taste of your blood, the primal part of her desires it, and she likes seeing the marks on you. It's insanely sexy for her to know SHE did that. And its a sign that she owns you. <3

[itsfeckinwimdy]

10 Types of Kisses

Various LOTR/TH x Reader

Pairings: Aragorn, Fili, Haldir, Kili, & Legolas x Reader (separately).

Pronouns: n/a.

Prompt(s): 10 types of kisses by @urfriendlywriter. You can find her post here. (I used 9/10 of them).

Word Count: 3.4k words (3415)

Warnings: No beta, we die like Boromir. open wounds (Aragorns + Fili's), marriage (Fili's), swearing (Kili's), mentions of battle + death + blood (Legolas).

Tree Speaks: I had a lot of fun writing this but it also went into territory that I'm not particularly comfortable with writing yet so we'll see how this pans out.

Translations: amad - mother, dwarrowdams - a term used for female dwarves.

LOTR + TH Masterlist

Published: 25/02/2023

1. Aragorn

soft kisses - where they're just lying beside you, hands playing with your hair as they trail tender kisses all over your lips

The two of you were meant to be sleeping of course, but the gloom of the mines made it hard to settle. You supposed that's why he pulled you away from the others slightly, to a spot just that bit further away.

Aragorn was on first watch as usual, having made it his task since the beginning of the journey, and always insisted that the hobbits and Gandalf got plenty of sleep. But with that came the usual knowing looks between the two of you as Aragorn knew his love wouldn't sleep unless he would.

So with that knowledge, and him sensing his love's rising anxiety at being trapped underground, it now brought them to this.

He tilted your head up from where it was resting against his chest, his hand cupping your face. Aragorn brushed a few loose strands of hair off your face from where it had fallen out of place as his own head tilted down towards yours. His hand gently entwined with your other, and he paused in his movements, allowing you to decide next.

You gently reached up, threading your hand through his long locks and gently pulling him down towards you. He pressed his lips to yours, mouth moving slowly, softly, intimately.

He pulled away, your lips chasing after his, a small smile gracing his lips as he pressed another kiss, and then another, and then another to your lips.

the type of kiss where you can't find words to say after, or the ones where your forehead lingers against each other's

Aragorn's horse trotted through helms deep, having just pulled him up from the river bed where if not found, he would've succumbed to his wounds. He dismounted his horse and received a scolding from Gimli before forcing himself up the staircases and into the deep.

Legolas rose from outside the doors, greeting his friend who believed him dead. The elf pulled him into a familiar embrace before pulling back and making a sarcastic comment about the ranger.

The elf turned a small smile gracing his face before yelling the name of a person. The ranger followed his line of sight. It fell on his love, you.

You looked up after the elf who yelled out to you, before seeing the man you mourned for standing with him. Abandoning your stuff, you ran to him, arms thrown over his shoulders and crushing him to your chest as a few sobs left you.

His arms encircled you as he leant his forehead against yours. He didn't care at that point about the mud caking him and he didn't think you cared enough at that point, so it made no odds on whether he was careful or not.

He pulled back slightly, raising his hand to caress your face before pressing his lips to yours. Tears left both of you as his mouth moved languidly with yours.

Aragorn pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. He wanted to say so much to you, fearing that he would never see you again but all thoughts left him as he wished to stay in this moment, longing for nothing but you.

2. Fili

messy kisses - curly hair, ruffled sheets and half-buttoned clothes as you just want more and at that moment, they're the most beautiful soul to you ever

The sun trickled in through the window, bypassing the curtains that hadn't been fully drawn across the night before. The young (ish) couple lounged in the bed, bodies pressed together as close as they could get with the few layers of clothes still between them.

He tilted your head up to meet his, his lips pressing against yours, moving languidly in the early morn. Fili reached up, hand caressing your courting and marriage braids that were still somewhat intact.

He groaned, feeling one of your hands gripping the hair at the base of his neck and the other slipping under his shirt across his chest.

Fili pulled back, eyes fluttering open to meet yours; your own half-lidded as you drew in a few stuttering breaths. It was a pleasant greeting from your love first thing in the morning, one that you would be against again.

You gazed up at Fili, the dwarf hovering over you, careful not to rest his entire body weight on you. The tressels of sunlight filtered through his hair, causing a glow to shine over him.

His eyes trailed over your face, memorising every detail as if it was the first time he saw you.

kisses on your body ♡ frail kisses on your shoulder! on your lower back, belly and trailing to your neck, collarbones, lips.

A cry of pain left your lips.

Oin pulled the blood-soaked cloth away from where it was pressed tightly against your side. The infection from the arrow had spread, the orcs having laced it with something deadly.

The pain wasn't something Fili wished on anyone, much less you. So he did his best to comfort you whilst the infection ransacked your body. His hands firmly held you, one holding the back of your head, and the other gripping your forearm to stop you from forcing Oin's hand away from the wound he was trying his best to treat.

After Oin had doused the cut in water, trying to flood any dirt that wormed its way in, Fili pulled you closer. The healer moved back to gather some more altheas and cloths, leaving you curled against your prince's chest.

Fili dropped his head down to your shoulder, as your tears continued to douse his shirt - not that he cared as it was covered in sweat, grime, and whatever else from the trip across middle earth - his hand on your head slipping down to the back of your neck, stroking his fingers in what he hoped was a soothing pattern.

He pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, the fabric of your tunic had been pulled away, cut away for easier access. It would need replacing, he noted, but hoped that it would be enough to cover you until the sun rose again.

Fili continued his ministrations, pressing another kiss further up your shoulder. And then another at the junction where it met your neck. He considered pressing one to your neck, in that one spot he knew made you shiver, but with the way you were sitting in his lap you were already considered improper in public, so he begrudgingly decided against it.

Oin chose to return at that moment, pressing the churned-up altheas against your wound and then tying the cleanest cloth over it. You cried out in pain, more tears falling. It was like someone was driving a burning knife into your arm, over, and over, and over again. The pain rolling in waves.

Fili kept whispering words of praises and comfort, the Kadzhul translations lost in your mind as all you could feel was the pain, and him.

The knot was finally tied on the bandage. Fili slid his hand from the back of your neck to cup your face, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead before leaning his own upon yours.

I'm here, you're safe now, I love you, the action spoke more words than Fili could find himself saying.

3. Haldir

lazy kisses as they admire you - fingers delicately trialing your jaw as they kiss your lips

"Haldir," you groaned, leaning back against his chest, head turned up to face him. A smile graced his lips, his eyes locked with yours, shining full of love.

It wasn't often you got to spend a prolonged period of time with your Marchwarden, especially with him being gone for months at a time to guard Lothlórien's borders. So any time you spent with him was precious, even if you knew he would be leaving at the end of it again.

The braid in his hair was loose, albeit from your hands running through his hair earlier, causing him to have a sexy, but dishevelled look. The thought of elves being supermodels no matter what state they were in flashed through your mind again causing you to chuckle slightly.

Haldir raised his hand, letting it linger under your jaw as he delicately leaned down to place another kiss against your lips. Warmth bloomed through you and as his lips moved against yours, all thought about him having to leave again in a few days retreated into the depths of your mind.

You were drunk off the taste of him, off his kisses as he stole your breath each time. And nothing would ever change that.

goodbye kisses - kisses lingering like liquor in each other's lips, bitter but sweet, "I'll always come back to you, love. you're my home after all."

The boats gifted to the fellowship had just finished being prepared and were packed full of provisions to last you a good while.

The thought of having to leave your home again haunted you but not just because it was where you lived. No, because this time you were leaving your love, not knowing when you were to see him again. He was your home.

The Marchwarden was allowed to see his love off, having been granted a week's leave whilst you and the fellowship recovered and stayed in Caras Galadhon, Lothlórien. After you were sent as an emissary to Imladris, Rivendell in the common tongue, and word had returned that you had embarked on a journey to destroy the one ring, Haldir was worried for you.

He knew the history of the ring, as did most if not all elves and was worried about the dangers you may face. He knew that you could protect yourself, having been a sparring partner against you for years, but the worry did not dissipate.

He met you at the shoreline, his hand over his heart in the traditional greeting before he held your hand in his. Sadness filled his eyes as he wished not to see you leave, but knowing that this was a journey you were willing to take.

Haldir leant his head against yours as he fixed the cloak hung around your shoulders, ensuring that the broach was attached properly.

His hands lingered on your waist as he prepared himself to say goodbye again. It was one thing being the one who was leaving, but now that he was on the receiving side for once, he now knew how your heart felt each time he went on patrol. That feeling of not knowing if you were coming back or not eating at his heart.

Your hand on his cheek stole his spiralling mind from his thoughts as your lips pressed against his. A tear threatened to leave his eye as he consumed your kiss like a drug. The fear bubbling in his chest soothing to make way for the love he held for you but the melancholy feeling at having to be parted from you made it more bittersweet than anything.

His lips lingered over yours as you pulled away, his hand raising to stoke a strand of hair back from your face. Haldir wished he could keep you here in his arms but understood the task you had undertaken would not be dropped lightly.

4. Kili

kissing and realising this is the person you'll always love, you'll always want to touch and snuggle with

Kili didn't think he could hold you any closer than he currently was.

You were practically melded into him, hands gripping tightly to the back of his jacket. The clothing was still damp from the thunderous storm you had walked through, but nonetheless had to still wear.

The terror that shot through him as the thunder giant collided with the mountain, believing that he had lost not only his brother but you as well, was something he never wished to feel again. His hands trembled slightly at the thought.

He shifted slightly, taking some pressure off his shoulder whilst pulling you upwards slightly so you were level with him. The ground wasn't pleasant to lie on, less so on his side, and even less so with damp clothes on, but Kili knew this was the company's best option right now.

Kili rested his head against yours, his eyes meeting yours. He nudged his nose with yours affectionately, giving you time to pull away.

It was something he always did, you noted. Every time he wanted to kiss you but couldn't find the words to say it, or was surrounded by too many prying eyes, he did that. Gave you that tell that allowed you to decide what happens next.

You tentatively leant forwards, tilting your head upwards ever so slightly, letting your lips press against his. There was no rush. No incessant desire to pull the other closer, just him.

Kili moved his lips slowly with yours, savouring every moment that he got with you. Fuck, he loved you. The realisation pulled at his heartstrings more, knowing that he could've lost you today.

prohibited kiss - you're not even supposed to be seeing each other but your hands are on his hair and his hands around your waist, lower bodies pressing into each other as you kiss

Laughter radiated through your body as you were pulled through the endless turns and corridors of Erebor. The stone walls were lined with torches and braziers all lit with fires burning brightly.

To anyone else, it would be a maze, a catacomb of tunnels that unless sense was made of them, would surely lead to your demise. But years of living there had engraved the pathways into your mind, and no doubt Kili's.

His hand dragged you to a secluded corner, himself coming to a halt. He could no longer hear the guards trying to follow the two of you. Pride flooded his chest as he gazed back at you, finally alone with his betrothed.

You were finally able to get a good look at him, now that he didn't have all the dwarrowdams fawning over him. Even if he wasn't "beautiful" by dwarf standards, he was still a prince and would have people trying to gain his favour.

But his title didn't matter to you. Kili did.

And by the creator himself, did you love the way he looked. His hair tousled from the running, and the short beard he was so desperately trying to grow accentuated his face.

But the ceremonial robes that hung to his body? You couldn't resist.

He found himself pushed back, pinned against the pillar. Kili's eyes locked with yours, the same fire of desire within him, burning through you.

Your lips pressed with his, mouths moving frantically with the others. Your hands that gripped onto the front of his robes slid up, trailing up his neck and into his hair, pulling slightly to press him into you more.  A groan left him at a particularly harsh tug before your hand moved to trace his courting braid.

He pulled away, panting, breathless, kissing you again and pulling you into him, arms gripping your waist, hands in his hair, your bodies practically merging into one. If his Amad caught him now, he wouldn't even have to face the scornful looks of Dwalin, he would already be lying in his grave.

But could he let you go? Fuck no.

5. Legolas

shy kisses - when you're the one pulling them closer, and they nuzzle their face in your crook after the kiss, hands around your waist as their ears get red

You were scared. If anything you were currently lustful, but you were about to fight in a war against ten thousand troops with an army of less than a third of that. So you were scared.

Legolas had turned to where you leant against one of the pillars, choosing to come and check all the fastenings on your armour. He was meticulous and methodical as he went to each and every one, adjusting where he deemed necessary whilst checking it caused you no discomfort.

A soft smile graced your face, as you watch his gentle movements before reaching out to cup his face in one of your hands. A blush, so subtle anyone who didn’t know Legolas would miss it, warmed his face, his head lifting and eyes locking with yours. It was as if he was staring straight into your soul, his piercing grey eyes full of love but fear.

You pulled him towards you, Legolas leaning his head down as his hand held over yours on his face, the other resting gently on your waist. Leaning up, you gently pressed your lips to his. Just once, mind you, the action as tender as possible, letting him come to you.

Legolas leant into you, pressing his lips back against yours, moving at a slow pace. He wanted to savour this moment as much as possible before the two of you walked to what could be your deaths.

ahem.

The clearing of the person's throat sprung the two of you apart, you mentally preparing for the endless stream of apologies to whichever passerby caught you, only for it to be someone you knew all too well.

"Aragorn." You spoke, heavily embarrassed to be caught with your lover.

The ranger looked between the two of you, his face being that awful neutral resting one making it so you couldn't judge his feelings on the matter. Aragorn must have read the panic starting to creep up in you as a teasing smile broke out.

“I have no qualms with this,” he began before looking over his shoulder towards the entrance of the armoury, “but the people of Rohan may not be as forgiving if you are caught.”

He turned on his heel, making his way up the staircase and leaving the two to their devices.

A moment passed and then a chuckle left your lips as a sigh left Legolas’. His head fell to your shoulder as the blush absconding his cheeks spread like wildfire tinting his ears a rosy colour.

At least it was only Aragorn, you mused, If Gimli had found you then he wouldn’t stop teasing your elf.

kisses of reassurance - saying that you're safe, still with them, that your heart is still beating wildly in your chest, that they couldn't get rid of you if they tried, that for some insane reason, you're not dead yet

Your chest heaved, trying to inhale as much air as possible as you sprinted up the mud-soaked hill. Aragorn had yelled for the soldiers to retreat into Minas Tirith and you were making your way as fast as you could until an arrow pierced your shoulder.

The doors were closed and sealed as you entered alongside the last few stragglers, a resounding bang from the wood hitting the stone frame. The room spun on its axis.

The throbbing pain in your arm continued, each ebb seeming stronger which was probably due to the adrenaline wearing off. Maybe you should've stayed fighting, it surely couldn't hurt as much as your arm did, you thought as your uninjured arm reached out to hold yourself up against the wall.

Giving up on keeping yourself upright, you slid falling somewhat ungracefully to the floor, blood dripping from your wound and soaking your sleeve. It was funny how much damage one arrow could cause.

You blinked.

The sun had risen, and from where you could see it, it was around mid-morning. Your eyes focused and you could see a worried face in a sea of platinum blonde hair. Legolas.

Ignoring the sound of the elf’s worry, you pushed yourself up into a seated position, as he gracefully knelt down next to you. His hands mindlessly moved to cup your face, as he had to pull his eyes away from your crudely bandaged arm. The arrow had been jagged and cut more as it pierced you, causing more blood to be lost.

Your hand covered one of his as Legolas moved to press his forehead to yours.

“I'm okay,” you whispered, breaking the silence between the two of you. Your thumb stroked the back of his hand absentmindedly, as you tilted your head up, meeting his lips with yours. It was one of desperation, longing and fear. A shuddered breath left you as the two of you broke apart.

“We’re okay.”

[tenjikufag]

Duration.

Laios Touden x Tiefling!MaleReader

-continuation of PART1 **LONG PART

-typical angst warnings, read part 1 to get the gist of it all. Thanks for reading! Surprised how many people wanted a part two, I hope it meets any expectations //hides

“Laios! Hey! We need to have a plan for this!”

Chilchuck grabbed the back of the blondes shirt, trying to drag him back. Laios had become hard headed and didn’t think one bit about how to find you aside from starting to explore.

“We can ask around first! You don’t even know where you’re going!”

The half foot was exhausted, it hadn’t even been a week of you missing- they haven’t even checked the morgues or even put up missing posters of you!

“Brother, he’s right.. we need to plan something or else we may miss him..”

Falin’s hand stroked her brothers shoulder, making him stop.. he knew they were right but he wanted to find you as quick as he could.

“Marcille! You have spells to trace things right?”

The elfen girl jolted, not expecting to be called on so suddenly. She clutched Ambrosia close to her chest

“I can only trace recent tracks! He’s been gone long enough that the traces would be gone!”

Her brash response made the man frown, he guessed that was a possibility. It wasn’t his only idea but for now he would have to go through the typical missing persons route…

They checked in with their neighbours, any friends they knew that might’ve seen you, checked the morgues, asked around in taverns, consulted guilds… and nothing came up. No one had even seen you leave? He found that hard to believe!

Suddenly a dog barked, happy to see the group walk by, taking the man out of his thoughts. Falin smiled and knelt down to pet the dogs head.

“You guys seem awfully busy, harassing everyone within earshot. What’s got ya in such a mind?”

An older woman leaned forward in her rocking chair, passing a treat to Falin to feed the dog.

“Harass?! I’ll have you know-!”

Chilchuck was about to rant before Laios covered his mouth

“We are looking for someone, he’s been missing for quite some time now.”

Laios informed them, the dog barked and wiggled it’s way to the others in the group.

“Is that so? Well looks like ya found yerself just the guild for the job..”

Marcille and Falin tilted their head, before looking around the surround area of the building.

Dogs were everywhere, inside and outside of the building. It seemed there were many people involved with this and many more leaving with happy dogs in tow..

“Hunting dogs?”

“If that’s what ya wanna call these buggers. They’re also used for retrieval, search and rescue, or just a dog if ya wanted one.”

Marcille perked up, but before she could approach the woman further a hand came up from the woman

“We don’t lend these dogs to people who are gonna kill them for those goddamn roots, just s’yaknow..”

That’s right.. Marcille hadn’t really thought about the vision of an elf lurching for a dog.. and the implications..

“These dogs here are all trained, I’ve trained every single one of them. They’re reliable, if you need to find someone I’ve got just the dog for you..”

She slowly got up, whipping a cane out from under her and trudged her way into the building.

“Come on, don’t make me walk so much- I’m old can’t ya see?!”

The group apologized, Laios had a new determined look on him. What a lucky break!

The woman walked through the crowd, dogs were excited to see her but drove their attention back to the companions they were being introduced to.

“This one right here, it’s been stubborn to other training but it’s good at scent tracking. It was gonna be one of the guild dogs but it would probably be happier working.”

A large black dog sniffed the woman’s hand before circling around her and sitting. It looked quite dopey.. big and fluffy, big eyes and just a smidgen of drool coming from its mouth.

“How much?”

Laios knew they were low on funds but if this was the way to go.. and it had to be, he would sell everything he had!

“Fer this one? He’s hard headed so his price’ll be lower but name a price.”

The group quickly huddled, negotiating what was reasonable for both parties.

“We got this, and it’s all we got on us right now!”

Laios held out their singular pouch of funds..

Chilchuck couldn’t even argue, he knew the situation and didn’t have the heart to discourage the man further…

“Hm? Oh this is too much. Here, lemme take what I think is reasonable..”

The woman took the bag of coins and counted up a handful of them. Handing back the bag, it was barely any lighter than before.

“Are you sure?! You can ask for more!”

Marcille panicked, feeling bad despite not wanting to lose all of the partys money..

“Don’t question it long ears, this one doesn’t seem like it’ll let you leave without em~”

She laughed, watching the dog pounce onto Chilchuck as soon as she let the lead go. The dog was bigger than the half foot and took over him like he was a toy.

Laios smiled, nodding his head and thanking the woman.

“Just give em the scent yer lookin for and it’s gonna find them, guilds promise.”

The woman was happy, she knew the dog would be a good fit for the group and knew they were trust worthy just from the look of them.

They all split, leading the new companion through the town.

“Whatre you gonna make it smell?”

Chilchuck asked, the dog still nudging his arm for pets. Laios already knew what to give the dog..

Your underwear!

“Hah?! Don’t ya think a sock or maybe a shirt would do?!”

“I want him to smell something intimate, a smell that wouldn’t change because of different soaps.”

The group, aside from Falin, protested but once the dog was offered the scent- it completely pulled away from Chilchuck. It began sniffing around the house and seemingly followed a route that you had done before leaving. It began scratching at the closed front door, indicating the scent left the house.

“Woah, didn’t think it’d work that fast..”

Laios took the leash and let the dog drag them, it was strong in pulling on the lead. Despite its determined snout pressed on the ground it managed to evade any passerby and obstacles in its way.

“Good thing we all packed up before giving the scent..”

The dog led them outside of the town.

—

You sat at a table, surrounded by tieflings. Several towns over you’d found yourself a guild, a community of them; they were more than happy to accept you even if you weren’t one by birth..

They were kind. Accepting. Indiscriminate.

Just like Laios.

Your story was quickly shared amongst them all, many eager to hear of your life before the incident. They all held empathy towards you, trying to help you adjust to the new body and life.

“We don’t have any ways of reversing such a spell.. with no traces or idea of what it could have been.. the risks far outweigh the positives..”

An elder spoke to you, pouring tea for you. You’d expected that answer but it was hard to hear nonetheless..

“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through, especially losing your mate. We can only help you cope, young one.”

Nodding, you agreed to their terms. It wasn’t anything crazy like devoting your life or anything but simply being able to contribute to the homestead- take care of yourself and be mindful of others.

That’s where you found yourself, amongst other tieflings and learning their ways to make integration easier. You figured you’d lucked out with this and wouldn’t push further.. it was better this way, right?

“You’re gonna make your horns sag with all the frowning ya do!”

A voice cackled, a new friend you’d made walked over and nudged your shoulder. Were you really frowning that much?

“Thinkin’ about him again?”

You nodded, it was obvious to everyone that you were heartbroken in more than one way, not just affected by your change.

“Why’d ya leave if you knew it’d be this hard? Wouldn’t it be easier with him, don’t ya think?”

You really weren’t sure, shrugging towards your friend; she only sighed. She was a mature tiefling, having lived for about 180 years by now so she’s had her fair share of relationships before landing herself a mate.

“Is he hateful? Do ya think he woulda kicked you out anyways?”

No, he wouldn’t. Laios wasn’t like that.. you left because you thought it was the best course of action. What had been done could not be undone, but the guilt and regret ate at you endlessly.

“No.. he was everything to me. The only one I’ll love, kind is an understatement and nowhere near strong enough to describe him..”

Tears pricked at your eyes, you were quick to wipe them away but the soft sniffles still made their way to the woman’s ears.

“Then.. why did you leave.. really? You gotta be honest with yourself.”

You left because it was what was right…. Right? How would he be able to accept you? Why would you subject him to such a horror, and how could you force yourself to watch his love for you change before your very eyes?!

“What I’m hearin is that it was selfish. I’m not gonna sugar coat it for ya love. You don’t know what he woulda said, how do ya think he’s feelin’ right now?”

It felt like cotton was stuffed in your mouth and throat, drying in realization of what you’ve done.. even in the worst case scenario you would never imagine Laios to be a horrid person, it was unfair to think that of him.

You knew he would look for you. You knew how heartbroken he must’ve been..

She was right, it was selfish.. but how could you repent for this? It was done. You were gone from his life and even if he did search for you, it wasn’t like he was going to find you.

Even if he did manage to pass through, he wouldn’t recognize you..

Pulling the hood over your head and clutching it over your ears, you sighed and listened to the woman beside you talk.

“Make sure you’re not late for dinner, sorry for the lecture. Just hate seein’ someone in pain.”

She got up and walked away, leaving you to sulk in the emotions and thoughts.

—

The party had been walking for what seemed like ages, their feet tired and bodies heavy from the week long trek. The dog seemed to have no issue, even trying to forego breaks and sleeping at night!

Sitting at the top of a large hill that overlooked a quaint town, they decided they’d set up camp before traversing the rough terrain below them.

Their dog barked and whined, pulling at the lead Laios tied to a strong tree.

“How does it even breathe with its nose pressed on the ground?”

Chilchuck grimaced, wiping the dogs face of the dirt as Falin readied a bowl of food and water for it.

“It’s a working dog, it probably expects a big reward for finishing its task.”

She smiled, putting down the bowls and watching the dog hesitate before scarfing it down.

“Wish I was that motivated for a damn snack..”

Falin lightly laughed at the man’s words, sitting down beside her brother as he looked over the town in thought.

Laios wasn’t his usual self, he was quiet and almost pensive the whole journey. Everyone had expected some sort of change but this made them uneasy to say the least- he was even more determined than the dog! It was only when the group lectured him (and the dog) that he needed to rest did he relent somewhat.

Pulling out a map, he crossed out another town that they’d just passed through without a sign of you.

“What’s the next town? I hope there’s an inn..”

The elf sighed wistfully, dreaming of a warm bed and a good bath. She looked over the blondes shoulder, seeing where he was reading

“The next town is —! There should be an inn.. and since we didn’t spend all too much getting here we could probably stay there..”

Chilchuck felt himself pale..

“Isn’t that the place with the huge tiefling guild?”

Marcille perked up, double checking the area and the name

“Yes! It is! Oh we should stop there-“

“For what?!”

“They have all sorts of magic that I’ve not been able to study for.. reasons but it will be a great opportunity for my dungeon research!”

Laios furrowed his brows. Tieflings? He’s never seen one in person and never really thought about them..

“Tieflings? What magic would they have?”

Before Marcille could inform him, Chilchuck piped up immediately

“Do you really not know?! They’re all necromancers!”

Marcille smacked the half-foots head,

“They are not! Many are just normal in their magic practices- dead magic is strictly forbidden amongst almost all guilds!”

The two of them argued, Laios was fascinated nonetheless but he still ended up thinking about you.. if you died would he be able to ask them for help?

“Just because the only known Tieflings were necromancers and created the magic doesn’t make them all one! That’s ignorant to say!”

“That’s all I need to know!”

The two of them went at it for quite some time, until eventually cooling off and walking away from eachother.

After eating, they drew straws for nightwatch. Even if they were in safe territories and could sleep peacefully without being ransacked or attacked by monsters; somebody needed to keep the dog occupied. It truly was a stubborn dog.

Laios took the first watch. He sat down by the dog, running his fingers through the soft fur on its back.

Why would you leave? With the quiet and just him alone.. tears welled up in his eyes. He couldn’t understand it.. what exactly happened? What could have been so bad that you’d leave him with nothing but a letter? It worried him sick aside from being absolutely heartbroken..

The dog quieted down, laying its head on his lap and staring up at him in hopes to comfort him.. he smiled softly and wiped away his tears.

He had always wanted to get a dog with you, growing up with them he absolutely adored them and in his perfect vision of your future it would be you, him, Falin, and a dog or two. It hurt that he only got a dog in these circumstances.

—

The town was already busy, even with it just passing the morning sunrise there were people scurrying between shops, door chimes filled the air, and loud chattering busied the groups thoughts.

Their dog started barking.

It began to pull harshly on the lead, wheezing as it practically choked itself of air. The barks weren’t the typical “let’s go!” But more of a viscous sound, like an alert.

“Dog doesn’t like tieflings, eh?”

Laios looked over, seeing a man chuckling lightly at the dog.

“It’s typical from what I’ve heard, somethin’ about the devils sets them off.”

Marcille rolled her eyes, beckoning the male to move along. It was odd behaviour he had to admit but would dogs really have an innate ability to dislike a group like that? He wasn’t all too sure..

The deeper they got into the city, they started to see them.

Long ears, tails, pointed teeth, horns..

Some had typical skin tones, others were grey, red, and other washed out pale colours but stood out nonetheless.. chilchuck slotted himself in the middle of everyone as if he was walking between three protective walls. Marcille on the other hand seemed giddy, already chatting up a storm with a pair that sat outside..

The others had noticed they’d ended up right infront of the tiefling guild, before Chilchuck could protest anything, the dog started to howl.

It made the new friends Marcille found herself, flinch and excuse themselves.

“Hey! Quiet down..”

Laios spoke down to the dog, trying to keep it close to him but it continued to stand on its hind legs to howl and cry. He apologized profusely to the people who moved away, not really sure what he could do to calm the dog.

The guild buildings front door opened and a hooded figure came out, quick to turn away and walk the way they faced. He couldn��t put his finger on it but something made him gravitate towards the person.

Something about the build and way they walked looked familiar but he dismissed it.. but

The dog got loose.

It had jumped and flipped itself around just right to slip out of its collar- the group stood in shock for a moment before screaming and running after the dog.

—

“There’s a dog outside, I’d avoid it if ya can. Can’t say it would do anythin’ but some people train their dogs to attack us.”

You were warned, pulling your hood up over your head. What a weird thing to do.. but you heard the dog and commotion outside, even seeing two of the other residents come in and complain about the dog.

“-and we were having such a good chat with a cute elf girl!”

Elf? Elves weren’t common to see around these parts from what you’d gathered, never seeing one in the time you’ve been here despite seeing essentially all other groups of people.

Patting yourself down, you said a quick goodbye to the head member.

Slinking out of the door, you saw the dog in the corner of your eye and made way to avoid it. Preoccupied with your thoughts and list of what you had to do, you didn’t hear the people behind you start to holler about a loose dog.

That’s when you felt a bite on your tail.

Pain curled up your spine before you whipped around and saw the dog, it then jumped on you and placed its front paws on your abdomen trying to stop you.

“Go on! Get!”

It only gave a dopey head tilt to you before howling.

“Ah! I’m so sorry! It slipped out of its collar and-“

It was Laios.

The two of you made eye contact, ignoring the dog happily circling around you and sitting down proudly- giving one more bark of “I found you!”..

It was like a standoff, you felt the blood drain from your face and stomach start to churn as his gaze shook while looking at you.

“Y/n? Is.. is that you?”

Your throat felt dry, no words coming but your mouth was left slightly agape.. he found you. How did he find you? You took a quick glance behind him and saw Chilchuck, Marcille, and Falin.

They’d all come for you?

The feeling in your chest dropped like a bad of sand and you spun around and took off, much to the protests of Laios who quickly left the dog with his friends and told them to wait.

You ran around the corner, quick on your feet to escape a confrontation.

He wasn’t supposed to find you! Yeah he could have searched and looked for as long as he wanted but you never expected him to find you!

“Y/n! Wait!”

Air was leaving your lungs quickly, you needed to find an escape but with a final turn you found yourself at a dead end in an alleyway.

“Dammit!”

The sound of Laios skidding on his feet behind you made sure to let you know that you were caught.

A feeling of dread filled every cavity in your body, anxious vibrations and chattering in your teeth while his steps got closer.

“Don’t come any closer!”

You hunched over yourself, pulling your hood down further to cover your ears and face.

“So.. it is you?”

“You wouldn’t believe it if I said no.. would you?”

Laios felt his heart break, the cracking in your voice and the way your body shook broke him inside; he’d never seen you this distraught.. he scanned over your cowering figure, first noticing the tail that tucked itself under your legs and the faint silhouette of horns on top of your head.. but he smiled softly to himself.

It was you, and you were still alive.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, flinching away and trying to get up and run but he caught you quickly. Wrapping you in his arms tightly despite you thrashing and trying to get out of his grip.

“Let me go! Please! I don’t want you to see me like this!”

He listened to you sob and scream, letting you scratch his skin and almost tears his clothes; all he could focus on was the warmth he held from you, the familiar sensation of you in his arms calmed his once ever growing nerves even in such a moment.

You were in his arms, breathing and safe. That’s all he knew and all he needed for now.

“Laios Touden! Let me go!”

“No, not until you tell me why you left.”

You stopped thrashing around at his words.. with your lax body he hugged you properly and rubbed his face into your shoulder. The tears wetting your cape and shoulder.

“Did you.. did you leave because you wanted to?”

Your breathe hitched, of course not. You never intended to leave him but.. the change..

“I left because I..”

Sighing softly, you tried to pull away again but his grip only tightened with his own soft shaky breathe.

“Can you let me go for just a moment? I won’t run..”

He hesitated, his arms tensing and he squeezed you before he reluctantly pulled away but kept himself close to you.

Reaching up, you raised your head and took off the hood.

Laios’ eyes widened, looking at your horns first, seeing the way your ears had changed and the other new features you’d gained..

“This. This is why I left.. I can’t imagine that you’d still love me-“

“But you’re still.. you, right?”

He grabbed your hands into his, inspecting the long claw like nails.. lacing his fingers with his own with a soft smile on his lips.

You were still you, nothing inside had changed.. it was all exterior as far as you knew. Biting your lip, the tip of one of your canines peeked out and tears welled in your eyes.

“I don’t know.. why are you looking at me like that?”

Laios had seemed like he was hyper focused and already in his own world.. he was still Laios.. you weren’t sure if it was curious disgust or if he was still surprised to see you like this..

“Laios..? Stop gawking at me! Please say something!”

“Can you uh, can you open your mouth?”

Blinking, you went to speak but before words could come up he already had a hand pushing softly on your upper lip.

“Fangs? That’s.. hot!”

You blushed, pulling your face away from his hand. Why wasn’t he saying anything else about you leaving?!

“What are you saying?! Aren’t you scared?! Disgusted? Just tell me what you feel so I can leave! So you can carry on with your life!”

He flinched, not used to you screaming at him.

“What do you mean?”

His puppy eyes watered, hurt that you’d scream at him and a familiar guilt burned at you.

“What do I mean?! Look at me! I left you, don’t you feel any hatred towards me?!”

He shook his head, once again grabbing both your hands in his.

“I could never hate you. I came looking for you because I love you and don’t want to continue without you.”

The man’s voice wavered, a realization seemingly hit him.

“.. do you hate me?”

He suddenly dropped your hands, for once during the whole interaction he took a step back. Without any thought you quickly wrapped your arms around him to keep him from going further.

“No! I don’t hate you! It’s because of me changing that I left and I just thought that you’d be better off without me like this!”

His tight grip on your waist returned, he leaned his forehead on yours.

“I could never be any better off without you. Never.”

You watched his lip quiver, his eyes shut but you saw tears appearing on his lashes..

“I’m.. I’m sorry. I’m sorry Laios..”

He breathed in, opening his eyes to look into yours.

“Is it okay if I kiss you? Or.. do you still want me to leave you alone.. are you happier here?”

Your heart thrummed in your chest, you planted your lips on his and the two of you desperately exchanged kisses. A bite at your lip made you open your mouth and he took claim immediately, you felt him lick along your new fangs. Pushing onto him he backed away and let you explore his mouth, nipping at his lip and leaving a faint scratch- just enough to draw blood. He winced and you pulled away.

He was flushed red, a faint dot of blood on his lips.

“Are you okay?”

Poking out his tongue, he licked the blood off his lip with a smile.

“Never better… come home with me, Y/n”

You wanted to cry.

He still wanted you, despite everything he still travelled and searched for you- the same love in his eyes from all those years still vibrant and glowing. You nodded, before the two of you left the dead end he gave you a much needed confirming hug. Making sure to nuzzle himself into your neck, feeling your skin against his was a much needed relief.. he was happy.

Laios would never think any less of you, his view of you would never change- so long as you allowed him to be, he would be by your side. He hoped it would be forever.

[mechaknight-98]

Faewild FT Jiheon

Author's note: A collaboration between @slowlydifferentbluebird and I doing some experimentation. I was given Fairy Jiheon as my prompt.

The story of Archfey The Honey Queen is super weird. Allow me to explain. Jiheon (the human name of The Honey Queen) was originally part of an all-girl bard group called Fromis. As an aristocrat and noble woman she was highly sought out like each of her members. To keep them safe their guardian (A rogue’s guild named Pledis) learned of the many magic towers of the Archfey Tasha. Seeing an opportunity they locked each member in a magic tower outside of time and space while they waited for the perfect time to utilize them. There was one exception a half-elf fighter bard named Gyuri who escaped. Jiheon however being the studious student she was turned this into an opportunity. She studied the many magic teachings and magic of the Archfey Tasha and over time she began to learn and refine her magical skills. Due to the influence of using and learning fey magic her timid nature was replaced with one more of amusement and trickery that led to her becoming a powerful Archfey in her own right. Eventually, she abandoned the name Jiheon for The Honey Queen, as her magic became synonymous with the sweet scent it left. After that, she just kept learning and gaining power and knowledge. In between her intense studies, she would explore other realms in the hopes of finding something to entertain her. Usually, though these distractions lasted longer than a year and the already longed-lived Fey grew tired of such pursuits…until she got bored again

The Honey Queen the Archfey sat bored in her tower. it had been decades since she had seen anyone else in her little section of the Feywild so she decided to venture into the mortal realm.

Her infiltration point was a small rift that led into Waterdeep. She decided to go to the Yawning Portal which would provide some entertainment. She looked around the bar for the most audacious and vibrant individual. Eventually, she found it in a warrior who was covered in head-to-toe metal armor she didn't recognize. Jiheon approaches them with a dazzling eye smile that people have started wars to possess even if for a fleeting night.

“What’s your name?” Jiheon asks.

The person in armor looked up at the young fey girl and said, “Theo”

“Oh, that's nice well Theo. Would you like to play a game?” Jiheon asked her eye smile blazed with a curious intensity that let Theo know he could be playing with fire with her but their competitive spirit beat out their rational mind.

“That depends… what's the prize?” Theo replies.

“Your firstborn?” Jiheon asks,

“It's always the same with you fey. Always the firstborn with you fey. why is that?” Theo replies

“Maybe I think you're cute,” Jiheon replies.

Theo looks up at her confused, “huh?” they say

Jiheon fakes an innocent confused face “Huh?” she repeats. Theo stares at the fey confused.

Then they ask, “Okay what's the game?”

“Fairy Chess,” Jiheon says with a smile. “Only the best, and most interactive game in the multiverse.”

“No that game is Magic the Gathering by the Combotronics Wizard Sir Richard Garfield,” Theo asserted Jiheon rolled her eyes before smiling and laughing with her disarming eye smile

The armored man stares at her sighs then gets up and follows Jiheon who smiles.

"So how do you play fairy Chess?" Theo asks.

Jiheon smiles.

"It's simple it's like regular chess except there are four additional and it is customary to remove one piece of armor as this is usually played after a Fey wedding."

Theo's eyes narrowed.

"Excuse me?" he said Jiheon smiled and said

'Did I missspeak?" Theo looks at her confused and she says

"Excuse me" theo roll your eyes annoyed at being drawn into a weird proposal.

"Okay, enough talk let's play. Jiheon says as she snaps taking Theo and her to her tower.

Theo blinked as they found themselves standing in a lavish tower filled with ornate furniture and shelves lined with various knick-knacks from different realms. They turned to Jiheon, who was already setting up an elaborate chessboard with an extra four rows and some very unconventional pieces, including a tiny dragon and what looked like a dancing mushroom.

"So, about that armor…" Jiheon teased, her eye smile even more dazzling as she gestured to Theo’s heavy metal suit.

Theo sighed, clearly unamused but resigned. "Let’s get one thing straight—I’m not removing anything."

Jiheon pouted playfully. "Not even a gauntlet? How disappointing. You really know how to spoil the fun, don’t you?"

"Fun is subjective," Theo replied dryly, watching as she made the first move, sliding a fairy-shaped piece across the board.

Jiheon leaned in closer, her voice a playful whisper. "Well then, let's see how you handle a game where the rules might just change on a whim. After all, it wouldn’t be 'Fairy Chess' if it was too predictable."

Theo raised an eyebrow, clearly bracing for whatever chaotic nonsense Jiheon had in store. "Let’s just get this over with."

As the game began, Jiheon’s mischievous smile hinted that this would be anything but a straightforward match.

The first move was simple Jiheon opened with "The Ruy Lopez"

Unaware of how the game was being played Theo went to move one of the pieces they didn't recognize forward hoping Jiheon would explain if he couldn't move it that way or not.

They did a zig-zag to move the piece out of the back row. Jiheon smiled, at thier intuitive knowledge of the game, but latent talent was nothing against skill. Jiheon captured Theo’s first piece. She smiled and whisked her fingers causing his helmet to fly off.

"Oh you are cute," Jiheon says with an enthusiastic stare at the young Aasimar . Their silvery skin is flawless, except for a singular scar across their left eye.

"Oh, what happened there?" Jiheon asks as Theo makes another move and captures one of Jiheon's pieces, they barely has enough time to dodge as one of her vambraces flies at them.

"My sister was practicing a blade barrage spell and I got hit by it."

Jiheon smiles interested as she makes another move. "Oh, are your sisters' casters."

"Yep in fact my younger sister is Princess Illuna's magic teacher" Jiheon's eyes widened at that

"So how did you become this armored titan?" Jiheon asks as she watches Theo Make another move, and capture another piece. She smiled as she took the bait. Now she would take the next two pieces. What she didn't know was that Theo was hoping to play a draw.

As the game continued, Jiheon’s smile widened, recognizing the subtlety in Theo's strategy. They played cautiously, trying to lure her into overextending, even if it meant sacrificing a few pieces along the way.

Jiheon, not one to be easily outmaneuvered, made her next move with grace and precision, capturing another of Theo's pieces. With a flick of her wrist, their breastplate unbuckled itself and clattered to the floor.

[avernusreject]

Warning ya'll this is gonna be a long post. But please join my descent into insanity, as I deep dive into the vague wormhole that is the durge betrayal pre bg3 timeline.

Before we start, it’ll help if you have context around the faerun calendar. There are twelve months in total, each having exactly 30 days. Additionally, weeks don’t exist in faerun. Rather months get broken down into chunks of time called tendays, which you guessed is literally just ten days. If that was too straight forward for you, don’t worry, they add in five extra days to the calendar that fall outside of the months (ngl I still have no idea where these are located) to make the full year 365 days. 

At the beginning of the game, the nautiloid crash occurs at 20 Eleasis. Which means, the game starts in the middle of summer. Obviously, the way you play the game is going to influence the speed of events, but for my playthrough I reached moonrise towers around 12 elient (total time being 22 days). When you get to moonrise, in Bathazar’s chamber you can find his journal that explains that Kressa (the crazy necromancer chick) managed to keep durge alive. This entry is dated “two tenday ago”. But in game, that makes no sense because we know that the nautiloid should have crashed around that point. So either Balthazar doesn’t understand how the Faerun calendar works (I mean same, my guy) or we have to change our frame of reference. I think its more likely that the implied frame of reference is the start of the game, 20 Eleasis (since the developers can’t control how fast the player goes). 

If true, durge was saved by Kressa around 1 Eleasis. Her vivisections took place after this in the following days. However, durge is taken away before the end of the following tendays (at least before 10 Eleasis).

Now when you talk to Kressa in the basement of moonrise, she states that she found durge only hours after they had been given the tadpole.

In the fight with Orin, she states that when she attacked durge she carved out a hole for the worm (ignore the Half-Elf part, that's just from the moment Orin turns into durge during the pre-fight convo).

The part that we're missing is when specifically the tadpole was inserted into durge. But given how the game describes just how utterly fucked durge was, there's a high likelyhood that the tadpole was given to durge moments after their fight. Which if true, places Orin's betrayal at 1 Eleasis. Giving us twenty days till the start of the game.

The piece that threw me for a bit was this piece of the narrator's dialogue when durge examines the pod, stating that durge had no idea how much time had passed.

But the blood in the pod is still fresh enough that Astarion is able to ID it as durge & in another dialogue choice if you examine the blood further the narrator states the blood hasn't been there long enough to rot.

I think this dialogue is more explaining that durge is actively being tortured by Kressa so time feels unending (kressa being the one who put them in the pod to begin with).

I've seen in other posts that Gortash's draft memoir explains that Orin's betrayal occurred during or just around the crowning of the brain (I don't have a screenshot of that unfortunately). But we have to take that with a grain of salt because Gortash is the definition of an unreliable narrator.

Personally, I don't think he's lying though. Orin's betrayal occurred in moonrise and there's really no other reason that Orin and durge would be in moonrise that the game has provided. Not to mention, the warden explains the last time that durge was in moonrise, they never left.

I don't think durge came to moonrise more then once given the fact that the warden, who had clearly been there a while, had no clue who they were. I find it hard to believe their identity would be kept under wraps had they been at moonrise multiple times. Employees have to gossip about something.

I think its likely that Ketheric, Gortash, and Durge tamed the brain in the days leading up to 1 Eleasis (like ~20 to 30 Flamerule).

In summary, the dead three had a Phineas and Ferb summer vacation by deciding to create the cult of the absolute.

And yes if you are wondering this is how I look now.

[letstrythisout4]

Godfather

Severus felt sick as he walked up the long walkway to Malfoy Manor. The last time he was there he had been led by Lucius to his personal study, and was greeted by the sight of a very pregnant Narcissia Malfoy. Apparently his friends had been practicing their glamor charms for the past several months and it had been time to come clean. Several tears and glasses of brandy later, Severus left the manor in agreement to help his friends navigate the dangerous task of surviving the war while one was bearing a child.

Now only a couple months later, Severus was back. He had been busy playing double- (triple?) agent and had no time for non-war related matters, making visits to the manor non-existent. But when he had arrived back to his small hidden home to find Narcissa’s screech owl waiting at the window, all exhaustion left him. He tore the envelope open to find two simple words. 

He’s here.

Had it been anyone else the note would have been vague but there were only two “He’s” whose names weren’t suitable for written word. One had yet to be told the name of and the other would have killed them before the letter announcing his presence was even finished.

And so Severus found himself being guided, this time by a frail looking elf, to one of the many bedrooms in Malfoy Manor. He lifted his hand to knock, only for the door to swing open and a strong hand to drag him inside, slamming the door behind him. 

Lucius let him go almost immediately rushing back to his wife's side. On the (rather small, Severus noted) bed, in a long white Victorian nightgown, holding a bundle of cloth was Narcissa; who didn’t look nearly exhausted enough given that the mid-elf was still wiping their hands clean. His friend looked at him, smiling softly. Severus was overwhelmed with anguish, the image before him a stark reminder of how terrible their world was becoming.

Two years ago while at a function he had overheard Narcissa remark that her and Lucius were too young for children, that she wanted to continue her education then have children. The statement was met with many variations of “All young women say the same but….” Severus remembers scoffing under his breath at the idea of Narcissa ever changing her mind. From the moment he met her, even as a first year, he knew that when Narcissa Black wanted something, she would have it. 

Severus knew as he locked eyes with Narcissa that she was thinking the same. That this was not what she had planned years ago. This did not align with her “Graduate, Marry, Transfiguration Apprenticeship, Children, then Settle” plan. 

But neither did war.

Somewhere between Lucius being branded and Death Eaters being tortured and murdered for disobedience, the plan changed.

Severus should have had this realization months ago when they first told him. But no. Only now as he took stiff steps toward the couple did it become real. He stood beside the bed, lips pressed thin, as he tried to be present. To say something. To acknowledge in some way shape or form that he understood how much trust they put in him, for him to be the only one here. 

It was only when Lucius huffed a laugh that Severus seemed to breathe again. “Dobby, bring Severus an armchair.” 

An armchair appeared behind him and Severus allowed Lucius to push him into the seat. “Would you like to hold him?” Narcissa asked quietly. 

Severus knew, logically, that this wasn’t a test. That the question was nothing more than an honest question. That saying “No” would bring no consequence, hell, saying “No” was probably exactly what they were expecting. 

But that doesn’t mean that the offer wasn’t an olive branch being extended out to him. 

Though that should make him turn away, one of the last olive branches he was extended by the pair was an offer to attend a “rally”; that stupid rally is what got him into this Death Eater mess in the first place.

Though the branch after that came in the form of a very very discrete apology for…well everything. 

“Yes, yes I would.”

Lucius and Narcissa had near identical looks of shock across their faces at his answer. Narcissia’s fell faster though, replacing it was a much brighter smile than the one before it. She lifted her arms towards him slightly and he reached for the child holding it- him very carefully. 

Wrapped up in the cloth was a slightly pink baby, though Severus could tell that he would be just as pale as his parents. Big gray eyes stared back at him, the same color as his fathers though with none of the narrow calculated consideration, rather wide with wonder and slight confusion.

Well I suppose you just got here, you’re allowed to be a little confused.

“No crying, good sign I hope.” he remarked quietly, taking in the head of near platinum blonde hair the baby already had. “Lots of hair already, huh?” he asked no one in particular.

Narcissa laughed, “Well I don’t know how much you know about wizarding genetics but strong distinguishing traits always appear in long wizarding families, even though they may seem "unnatural" .” Severus thought back to all the purebloods he knew. Weasley’s and their ridiculously red hair. Zabini's emerald eyes and dark complexion. Malfoy’s and their platinum blond and gray eyes. Greengrass, sandy blonde with blue eyes. Black’s with thick curly hair, that he knew Narcissa fight and charm to appear straight. Though Narcissa didn’t say it with the intention of being pureblood rhetoric, Severus could already hear how a fool could add it to the reasons as to why purebloods must stay “pure”. He bite his lip to prevent a tremor.

Stay present Severus, he scolded himself.

“As for “No crying ", babies are excellent judges of character.” Lucius added smirking in a way that made Severus’s eye twitch. Nothing good came from Malfoy looking as confident as he did.

Severus’s nerves only increased as Lucius motioned for Severus to hand him the baby. Lucius must have known that it would be incredibly unlikely that they’d be able to convince him to hold the baby again. What could he possibly want to say that would cause Narcissa to let him cut the moment short? Severus had known Lucius and Narcissa for nine years. He had been friends with them for eight. And while they were not perfect people, they have only ever acted with his best intentions at heart. 

He felt such strange pity whenever he reminded himself of that fact. The two had truly believed that the best course of action was to join Voldemort’s side. Though Lucius had drunkenly confessed months ago in his study that even he couldn’t have imagined it would be like this. Lucius was a blood purist -without a doubt- but he was also young. The three had known war was on the horizon and, in a disturbing way, looked forward to the downfall of Muggle-loving society. Looked forward to extermination. But it's different when you have someone begging and pleading at your feet for you to not kill them.

Stay present.

Once the baby was back in the arms of his father, Narcissa decided to speak. “We have settled on a name. Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

An involuntary laugh escaped him, “Very unique middle name, where’d you get it?”

“It's the name of a very wise man we hope for him to take after.” Lucius replied, his smirk fighting to become a smile.

“I don’t know, I know a man with that name and he is a right and true prat.” 

Lucius' mouth opened, ready to defend his honor, but was swiftly shut up by his wife, “Enough. I will only be looking after one child, not three, so please act your age.”

Severus had to physically bite his tongue to stop himself from pointing out how he very much was acting his age, what twenty year old wouldn’t mock their friend given the chance. The opportunity was right there.

The couple shared a glance, “We would like you to be Draco’s godfather.” Narcissa said with thinly veiled sadness.

…

“Come again?”

“Severus, nearly daily I am being sent off to complete missions. Missions that may one day leave me permanently injured or killed.” Lucius replied looking down at his son who smiled, ignorant to the conversation around him. “In the case that I am hurt or, Merlin forbid, Narcissa is hurt, we'd like for you to be the one to step in. We want you to be Draco’s godfather.”

“Godfather?” Severus laughed with no humor “Lucius I can barely take care of myself, much less a child.” 

“Gods willing you won’t have to.” Narcissa replied  “But beyond taking care of him if we are unable, you will also just be there for him. Let’s say that in the future the war is over, we are all alive and well, you will be like an uncle to him, nothing more nothing less. We aren’t asking you to adopt him, we aren’t planning on getting ourselves killed. We just want him to have…we want him to have someone outside of us. Because right now, we are all he has.” 

Severus dragged his hand down his face and stood to pace. It was true. Lucius and Narcissa both had lost their siblings to circumstances that will likely never change, leaving them with only distant relatives. Cousins, aunts and uncles that they don’t truly know nor trust.

“And…” she trailed off, side eyeing her husband with worry “And we need someone who will put him above everything.”

His breath caught in his throat. He looked at Narcissa, one of the only people he knew actually cared for him, actually viewed him as a friend and not a pawn. He looked for recognition, for a sign, that she knew something. But her eyes gave nothing away.

Sensing the growing tension Lucius stepped in, “Recently it seems as though our fellow Slytherins have thrown to the side their self-preservation for more…materialistic pursuits. We need someone who, if necessary, will put him before our…ideologies.”

They didn’t know he was a spy, they knew that the war wasn’t secured yet. 

“You believe I am the best option?”

“Yes, it seems that you are incapable of dying and are incredibly morally flexible.” Lucius said it as if it were a joke but the trio knew he was being honest.

The room went quiet, the only noise being the occasional gurgle from the child of discussion. Being a godparent wasn’t just a title in the magical world. It was a moral, legal and magical responsibility. There were rituals and ceremonies that would make him able to reach out with his magic and sense the child. He would have something akin to intuition, allowing him to just know how the baby was. 

Severus sat back down and held his hands out towards Lucius, waiting until the man handed back the child. “Draco Malfoy.” he tested the name. The boy looked at him as if he knew, as if despite being just born it understood that Severus was contemplating whether or not the pair of them were to be bonded magically for life. 

Severus stood up and paced the room again, now ever so slightly bouncing so as to not anger the child though the boy looked perfectly content, looking down occasionally to look at the child, really look at him.

He doesn’t know how long he paced, he vaguely heard Lucius and Narcissa start and stop multiple conversations before he turned back to the couple.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

[spacebarbarianweird]

Astarion x Drider!Tav

This was inspired by @necromosss and her art. It got me thinking what if Tav is condemned by Lolth being in relations with Astarion. Besides, I've already written Astarion x Drow!Tav so making a Drider part was only fair.

Masterlist

Headcanons

TW: angst and body horror

There is pain. Fear. The voice is so unnatural it destroys your sanity.

Did you really believe you could escape?

Lolth doesn't forget. Doesn't forgive.

Your skin breaks, and everything below the waistline disappears in the cobweb.

You are no longer a person, a drow, a woman.

You are a sexless drider, a Lolth's mindless pawn.

A monster.

There is nothing in your existence but the evil goddess's voice.

Bloodlust.

Hunger.

You murder to satiate yourself, but it's never enough.

Your teeth gnaw into your victims' flesh as you devour them alive.

Who were you? What was your name? Where were you from?

Who loved you?

You remember glimpses of sunshine. The blissful pain in your drow eyes.

The sound of ocean waves. The laughter. The kisses.

A silver-curled elf with crimson eyes.

Astarion.

His name is like a beacon of light in the ocean of madness and pain.

You don't remember yourself, but you remember him.

A vampire. A slave to his own bloodlust and hunger.

You grasp the pieces of memories.

He is so beautiful he can't be real.

His touches, his kisses, his words of love.

In the hours of silence, you think about him. But then the Lolth's voice destroys it all, and you return to the madness.

In madness, you crawl in the tunnels, searching for prey in the dark. 

You see a stranger. 

You attack him with all the cursed strength you have.

Your teeth gnaw into the flesh, and even your unsatiable stomach can't take the undead blood.

Astarion stands on his feet, holding a dagger. 

"I found you," his voice trembles. "Ten years. Ten years, but I found you!"

He kneels, putting his daggers away.

You recognize him.

"A-astarion? Is that you?"

"I am here, my love, I am here." He stands up again and reaches out for your cheek.

"It hurts..." you whisper. "I can't... The bloodlust, hunger, pain. I can't..."

He hugs you. His embrace is strong and somehow warm in comparison with your monstrous body.

"I am not going anywhere. I love you. I am not letting you go, not again."

You stand like that in the darkness of the Underdark, condemned by evil forces to being monsters.

"I will find a cure, I will return you back," he keeps holding you. "There must be something to save you. Some spells, some rituals. I will find it."

You are being dragged back to the madness, but his gentle voice is returning you back.

He holds you above the abyss.

Never letting you fall.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

[tinosawruswrites]

Jealousy

Week 1: Jealousy (One-shot)

BG3 Baddies/Lilith Hell Discord server Fanfic prompt

Word count: ~5000 words

Synopsis: Astarion ponders over his irritation upon seeing Alina (Tav) sharing friendly intimacy with Gale (and Shadowheart) and attempting to deny that it stems from jealousy.

Tags/Warnings: Named Fem! Tav (Alina), OC Tav with backstory and defined personality, rogue half-elf Tav, spawn Astarion, side character Gale, Shadowheart, Lae’zel and Scratch, jealous Astarion, mild spoilers for the end of Act1, angst, fluff, mentions of abuse and torture, mentions of scars from abuse/torture (back and forearms), allusions to Astarion’s past abuse, smut, penis in vagina sex, pretentious ponderings of things and feelings, endless musings and vague dialogue attempting to create subtext.

Additional notes: Huge thanks to Zaria's The Rabid House Server and those who helped by betareading and giving me grammar lessons! You know who you are! <3

It was a calm evening for once. The group was on their way towards Moonrise, taking a long rest after spending the whole day traveling over the mountain pass. Everyone was at ease, mostly, or pretending to after the dud that was the gith Créche.

Lae’zel in particular. The warrior was uncharacteristically absent, her head full of things to solve after finding out about Vlaakith’s deceit. She sat sternly at the far sidelines of the camp, deep in silent meditation, uninterested and unbothered by the others relaxing by the fire.

Astarion felt he didn’t have much in common with Lae’zel, but found himself in a similar sort of – albeit entirely different and entirely self inflicted – kind of inner turmoil.

He watched as Alina laughed with Gale near the campfire. The two sat side by side, practically glued to one another. The sight made Astarion’s mouth go uncomfortably dry and he took a slow sip from his wine goblet, holding back the grimace that formed from the sour taste of vinegar hitting his tongue.

His eyes followed the way the wizard’s hand fell on the half-elf rogue’s shoulder all too casually for his liking.

Too close.

Too familiar.

Too intimate.

But why?

He had been intimate with her, way more so than the wizard could ever hope to be.

He’d successfully seduced her and bedded her in the forest some weeks ago. After that night, he’d approached her again during the tiefling party and she had agreed to share his bedroll on more than one occasion ever since.

Hells, she sometimes approached him – the shy, timid Alina approached him, for a heated midnight tryst!

That, if anything, meant something and yet… it might have meant nothing at all.

He lowered the goblet from his lips, glaring daggers at Gale’s back from the shadows he sat under. He wished his stare would somehow sting the wizard enough to force him to keel back and remove his grubby fingers off of Alina, but nothing such happened. The wizard kept touching Alina, and the painful stings kept assaulting his own heart instead.

The way Gale could be at such ease near her, so openly enthusiastic about his boring, fringe interests and hobbies while being so godsdamned sincere about himself annoyed him to no end.

How could someone be so reckless?

How did he manage to survive this long without putting up a front and maximizing the others interest by careful analysis and then providing what the other sought according to said analysis? To him, Gale’s haphazard approach to social interactions was severely lacking and somehow the wizard was still winning and by the looks of it, bloody enjoying himself.

Astarion fixated on the hand that slid to gently pat Alina on the upper back. A spot he knew she was sensitive about anyone seeing in particular, with the ragged scars accumulated under her merciless debt owner littering the full length of it and all.

A spot, he had never directly touched as of yet himself either, and whenever he did so indirectly, made him uncomfortable, prompting him to remove his hand lest he push on her limits too hard to drive her away…

After all, she was self-conscious enough to hide them at all times, even when they had their little midnight meetings.

And there was Gale. Resting his stupid magic hand over Alina’s back so stupidly casually, not a care in the world.

The stinging in his heart began to burn like it had actually managed to carve a tiny hole through his undead flesh. He closed his eyes, lifted the wine goblet back onto his lips and took another bitter sip of the vile liquid in order to wash away some of the pain.

Gale had never laid with Alina, but was somehow closer to her, while he had, and his presence was reduced to sitting in the shadows at the edge of camp.

Not because nobody wanted him near the campfire, no. He was allowed to, maybe even welcome, but something kept him at bay.

Deep down, he knew why this was, but acknowledging such a thing would mean admitting defeat, and he was very keen on not doing so.

It was a frivolous little thing, an irritatingly ardent feeling that had made its existence known to him right after he had slept with Alina the first time. It was supposed to be a simple performance, a perfect illusion that would secure Alina’s heart under his ministrations, but each following night they shared, it became increasingly more difficult to keep the mask of indifference on his face.

He might have been intimate with Alina, but had never shared true intimacy with her.

That was the plan and it was working, so why did he still feel like he was losing? And to a socially awkward wizard no less??

“Either the wine in your cup is sour enough to crease your face, or it’s the other way around.” Shadowheart mused from the side rolling her own wine goblet in hand.

Astarion forced his face into seduction mode, easing any and all tension from his face like a magic trick.

“What ever do you mean?” He asked lifting his brows at the cleric.

Shadowheart raised her own brows up in tandem, giving him one of those sly knowing looks of hers.

“Oh, I just ought to point it out, since my wine was starting to taste oddly sour in your presence. Jealousy is a bad look on you, to be honest.”

“Jealous?? Me?” Astarion retorted with a dry laugh and his eyes fell back onto Gale and Alina.

He was about to take another sip of his wine, but froze as he witnessed Alina leaning against Gale and giving him a partial hug. Shadowheart watched as Astarion’s grip tightened around his wine goblet, threatening to break it if it was anything else but metal.

“Mmh-hmm.” She hummed swaying closer.

“For an over two centuries old immortal being you’re surprisingly clueless about things. Or just playing dumb. Which is it, actually?”

“Things? What things, girl? Be more specific,” he spat back at her.

He got another knowing look from the half-elven cleric.

“I wonder...” Shadowheart mused, now standing right next to him.

She extended an arm towards the way he was facing, pretending to scan what Astarion was looking at, as if she didn’t have the insight to what he was so miffed about.

“Oh! I see it now.” She exclaimed and settled to focus on Alina, who had her head rested against Gale’s shoulder in the distance.

“That’s what’s got you so worked up.” She looked Astarion in the eyes, the gleam in her green irises shining arrogantly bright over her clever assessment.

“That’s absolutely ridiculous. What I have with her is more than boring, innocent cuddling.”

“Oh trust me, I and the rest of the camp are well aware.” Shadowheart stepped back with an unimpressed half-smile on her lips.

Astarion smirked.

Alina was the quiet type and didn’t make much noise, unless a situation really called for it. Even her speaking voice was soft and tender, and she preferred to stifle herself even when she was in terrible pain. In contrast to this, she was surprisingly loud when she was feeling good – and Astarion knew how to make her feel way better than just good.

The morning after the tiefling party had been an extremely embarrassing event for her, when the others subtly brought it up to her during breakfast. After that, he’d made it a thing to let her howl out his name in the middle of the night every once in awhile, just as a reminder who she was tumbling with.

Astarion grinned a smug toothy grin, once again frowning at Gale’s turned back.

“Tell me then, dear Shadowheart, what is it that I’m so jealous about, if I’m so intimate with her already?”

“I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Shadowheart stared at him without blinking and took a long, slow drink of her wine. She tasted the wine before swallowing it and peered inside her now empty cup.

“Oh, would you look at that. All out of wine. I would ask for a refill from your bottle, but I know you’d just say no. Then again, I don’t think I’d actually want any. ‘Sour grapes’ and all.” She flashed him a brilliant smile before swaying away and joining the others near the campfire.

Astarion scoffed at the cleric, finished his own wine and remained scowling in the shadows in his own bitterness.

---

As the evening progressed, Astarion witnessed Shadowheart shooting glances back at him while pretending to be drunker than she was and leaning towards Alina, cuddling her excessively. The half-elf rogue would become flustered, but accept her companion’s innocent appearing clinginess nonetheless.

Astarion rolled his eyes at the cleric’s antics, ignoring the blatant spite thrown his way, well aware of the game she was playing.

Two could play that game, but something prevented him from stepping in and participating. He knew it would be a simple win for him – To saunter over, say “hello darling,” sit next to Alina, pull her against his body and nobody would even dare to approach her the rest of the night, no doubts about it.

But it would be a sour win on his part, because it wouldn’t be just a silly game to him at that point.

Shadowheart leaned to hug Alina, resting her head over the rogue’s shoulder to make direct eye contact with Astarion. He watched as the cleric played with Alina’s hair and how she returned the sentiment with a couple friendly strokes of her own.

Astarion just smiled at Shadowheart, feigning calmness in front of her adversarial behavior.

Much to his delight, Scratch the dog suddenly appeared and bombarded Shadowheart with a slobbery storm of affectionate licks as revenge for not paying enough attention to him.

The cleric pulled away from Alina, both hands sheltering her face from the onslaught of jealous canine love. Astarion chuckled with his book in hand, watching Shadowheart trying to fend off the furry fiend, resorting to running away altogether.

Alina laughed at Shadowheart’s mock panic and Astarion felt all the more better for it.

---

After nightfall, Astarion waited. He laid still in the silent dimness of his tent, waiting for Alina to come to him, if she ever would. He stared up at the purple fabric ceiling of his enclosed resting quarters. A lonesome wax candle provided a comfortable amount of light to ease the cold darkness of the night.

It had been a couple days since their latest meeting and he was hoping she would come by for another night of passion, especially after what transpired earlier that evening. He had a lot of things on his mind he’d want a distraction from.

He thought about how it felt when he saw Gale being so close to Alina, looking so intimate without ever having to take his clothes off or throwing himself at her.

He thought about the conversation with Shadowheart and the hesitancy he felt despite clearly being in the right.

He was right.

Because if he wasn’t, then he’d lost not only to her, but to himself as well.

The shuffle of fabric and a familiar form sliding inside his tent snapped him out of his head. A relieved smile grew upon his lips when he laid his eyes on Alina. The half-elf rogue smiled back at him, her cheeks already red.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

“Good evening, darling.”

“Do you mind some company for tonight?”

“You know I never mind if it’s you, darling.”

“You are allowed to say no if you aren’t feeling it, you know,” she countered sweetly, taking a seat next to his feet.

He said nothing to her offer, instead choosing to admire her form to further drive in her welcome status in his presence.

Alina turned to admire the solemn lonely candle glowing on the small nightstand at the corner, allowing Astarion a moment to take her in. She was donning her regular loose camp clothes: A white, long sleeved collar shirt, basic brown trousers and simple leather shoes.

An unassuming combination, that was worn more for comfort than style, hiding away most of her surprisingly curvy body.

Astarion lifted himself up to his elbows and hooked up one of his knees, giving Alina a seductive look.

“So, looking for a cuddle?” He blurted without thinking.

Alina turned her head to him, eyes wide in mild surprise.

Astarion reeled for a couple fateful seconds and attempted to remedy his momentary breach of character. He cleared his throat and fixed his smile.

“Cuddling sounds nice.” Alina tilted her head with a smile.

“Oh, but surely, you’re looking for more than just a simple cuddle, aren’t you, you sweet little thing!” He purred and watched as Alina’s cheeks grew in color.

She giggled.

“I was wondering if you’re hungry, actually.”

It was a silly question. He was always hungry. Such was the nature of being a vampire. It was still kind of her to ask such a thing, because it wasn’t a question as much it was an offer.

Astarion kept smiling and nodded. He pushed himself up to sit. Alina nodded and crawled closer. She laid herself next to him on the bedroll and scooted flush against him. He took position over her, like so many nights before.

Alina’s golden eyes blinked up at him calmly. Her gaze was relaxed and her body at ease under him despite what was to come. It was in stark contrast to their first feeding session, back when they barely knew each other and all he cared about was rebelling against his master.

Alina had been afraid. She had been tense and could barely mask the shivering of her body when he took his first drink of her delicious life blood. Since then, she’d grown accustomed to it all, the slight pain, numbness and subsequent wooziness afterwards.

Astarion had gotten better at the biting thing himself, finding a comfortable position, able to break skin without too much pain and drinking just enough to sate himself and little enough to not make Alina too ill.

He took one of her hands into his, kissed the back of it and laced their fingers together before leaning in. He rested their joined hands against the side of her head and heard a small hum escape Alina’s throat.

He could have just drunk from her wrist, but both of her forearms were littered with the same destructive marks from her debt owner as her back was. Another spot he had rarely seen and touched directly, fully covered up by her long sleeves even now.

Sensitive. Painful. Intimate.

Alina turned her head for him and exposed the column of her neck, revealing a faint set of bite marks from earlier feedings. Astarion trailed his nose along her freckled skin, hovering over her pulse point, inhaling the intoxicating scent of fresh apples and vanilla that lingered on her body and clothes.

Among her scent were hints of paper and ink, Gale’s cologne, wine and Shadowheart’s perfume.

He felt the stinging in his heart return and felt an urge to retaliate.

He could just bite harder than usual and make Alina feel a smidgen of the burning, stinging pain he was feeling inside his cold hard chest.

That, if anything, would serve her right for making him feel this way.

The sharp ends of Astarion’s fangs pressed against Alina’s subtle flesh, his breath ice cold and heavy on her skin. He opened his maw wider, ready to let the beast take over and punish her, but pulled back moments before it could.

What good would come of him inflicting more pain on her than necessary?

He was in pain and wanted her to know it. But had Alina not suffered just as much as he had already – as proven by the scars she carried on both of her forearms and back?

And unlike him, still showed him kindness, gave him comfort, forgave his shortcomings?

Astarion paused.

Those were all characteristics that pulled him towards her in the first place, what made her so malleable and quite frankly, easy to manipulate. It was also why she was so well liked by the whole camp, him included.

She was…sweet. Truly, and honestly sweet.

He couldn’t hurt her like that, shouldn’t hurt her like that.

He blinked a couple times and ran the fingers of his free hand across the side of her neck as if wiping away loose strands of her hair. The hand that clutched against his gripped harder for a moment. A signal of her continued comfort. Alina’s eyes remained closed, blissfully unaware.

She trusted him so blindly, but he could barely even grin in her presence without feeling like a fraud.

Astarion’s heart ached.

Alina was so close, and yet so far.

And no matter how many times he shed his and her clothes off, he knew that that kind of closeness would only ever be skin deep.

He swallowed and pressed a long kiss against the bite scars on Alina’s throat – like a wordless apology, seeking forgiveness for a sin he had committed against her.

He kissed her neck again and again, each time sinking lower beneath her collar, trying to make amends the only way he felt he could.

Eventually, Alina turned her head to peek at him. She raised herself slightly and brushed a hand through the side of Astarion’s face, a curious look in her eyes.

He smiled at her, hoping to come off as genuine enough.

“I find myself extremely peckish for more than just your neck tonight, darling.”

“You do?” She grinned at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling from joy.

“Hmmm.” Alina kept smiling and tilted her head, inspecting Astarion’s face.

“We can get better acquainted once you’ve had your fill.”

“You know I never have my fill, not when it’s you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, you romantic you.” Alina grinned and rested her head back down, her neck fully exposed once more.

Astarion chuckled and decided not to dally any longer. He leaned back in, sinking his fangs into her neck confidently. Alina tensed momentarily, but relaxed after a while, rubbing her thumb soothingly against the hand she was still holding firmly.

Astarion sighed against Alina’s skin, tasting the heavenly nectar in his mouth, swallowing it with big earnest gulps. This was what he wished his wine goblet was filled with whenever he drank and not that rank, vile bile they carried along backpack loads of.

He reveled in her taste and the pleasant hotness that brought his body back closer to life with each swallow.

Alina’s pulse grew more erratic and he knew it was time to stop. He pulled away, licking long languid lines over the two new punctures on her skin. Alina giggled and Astarion began to kiss down towards her open collar again.

His body was practically singing to him – his usually cold limbs felt warm and lively, his skin more sensitive. All his other senses were more keen and sharp as well, his eyes able to spot the tiniest of motions, his nose the smallest of differences in scent, his ears hearing every stifled little sound.

Astarion sucked on the skin at the edges of Alina’s shirt, then bit on the fabric, playfully yanking on it with his fangs. Alina’s pulse remained high and her breathing heavy. She brushed a hand through the back of Astarion’s head, playing with the loose curls at the nape of his neck.

She unlaced their hands and reached to unbutton her shirt for him.

Astarion followed along with each opened button, kissing down the line of skin that revealed beneath the parting shirt. Alina let out pleased little gasps as he went, her hand falling behind his head again, petting through his hair soothingly.

His own breathing had grown heavier and his body was slowly reacting to Alina’s growing arousal. Yet, a part of his mind was still occupied by the way Gale and Shadowheart clung themselves to Alina, seemingly more intimate with her.

He might have held her body, but her heart was out of his reach.

His mouth fixated over Alina’s sternum, just above where her beating heart laid. His fangs dragged over her skin, the maw within him hungry to dig itself deeper and sink its fangs into the ever beating muscle.

He became aware of himself again after Alina let out a pained whimper and he saw the small bleeding scratches that his fangs had left on her chest.

He met Alina’s gaze, silent panic rising inside of him. He tried to smile it off, but felt the edges of his lips drag downwards instead.

“...Astarion?” Alina asked with worry.

Astarion panted.

He felt out of breath despite not needing to breathe at all.

“Were you still hungry…?”

“Yes, that’s it. I was just…”

He was in pain again. A deep, stinging burning inside his chest, coiling around his heart like thorny vines that were on fire. He swallowed dryly, almost missing the sour wine he had downed earlier.

He snapped back to it again when two warm hands cupped each side of his face, turning his head. He came face to face with Alina. She looked patient as a saint, kind like an angel.

“You can have more if you want,” she said softly.

“I…”

He stared into her eyes without blinking, studying the calmness of them. Her pupils were blown wide as she studied him back, her whole demeanor giving off a sense of tender affection.

With that he let Alina guide him back towards her throat. He inhaled the coppery remnants of the previous wounds and nuzzled against them.

His stomach felt comfortably warm, his vampiric hunger sated for tonight. Drinking more of her blood would help to keep it that way longer, but would do little to ease the tightness in his chest.

But admitting to something else would mean losing the game.

Astarion hesitated and kissed the wounds, then bit back through the fresh fang marks, slightly missing and punctured another set crookedly beside them. Alina let out a stifled whine. Astarion pushed Alina down against the ground, once more drinking from her like a desert during a rainstorm, unquenchable, insatiable.

He pulled away when Alina’s pulse began to dip, knowing he passed the line of comfort for her. A red tainted string of spit connected his lips to her neck. Two sets of fang marks now decorated the side of her neck, blooming red from irritation and spilled blood.

Alina panted slow and heavy, her eyes clearly more unfocused.

“… Any better?” She asked weakly.

He nodded.

His stomach felt fuller, but his chest tighter than before.

“How are you feeling…?” He asked barely above a whisper and Alina blinked up at him.

She looked paler, but her cheeks were still somewhat flushed.

“I’m fine, just a little woozy.” She smiled.

He nodded and managed a tiny smile himself.

“Fine enough to ‘get better acquainted’?” He teased.

Alina flashed him a grin and nodded.

He hadn’t lost the game.

---

Discarding both of their clothes came easy to him. Astarion did so swiftly and without any trouble, an art he had over two centuries of time to perfect.

Astarion left Alina’s shirt on as he always did, to ease her mind off of the scars on her back and forearms, even if he wouldn’t mind seeing them.

Since when did he feel this way?

He’d seen them back at the grove with everyone else. Deep, ugly gashes running every which way up and down her back. Hideous to look at. Her forearms were no better, and if it weren’t for Gale, he and everyone else would have been spared from knowing what grotesque scarring from consistent and regular torture looked like.

At the time, he felt lucky his own were just a morbid poem his master carved onto his flesh over the course of a night. A long, agonizingly painful night, but just a single night nonetheless. Still, he couldn’t bare thinking of actually seeing the scar himself and was partially glad, he probably never would have to.

Alina panted beneath him. His hips moved against hers in languid motions, controlled and automatic. Astarion had both of his hands clasped with hers on each side of her head, their fingers tightly intertwined. She was looking directly at him, her golden eyes filled with desperate want.

Her body felt hot and sweaty against him. Her core was slick and swollen from arousal, making it easy for him to keep up his pace. Alina whimpered and moaned quietly beneath him, either conscious of her own voice and purposefully keeping it down, or too tired to let the world know how good she was feeling.

Even without her usual vocalizations, Astarion knew how good she was feeling. The subtle trembles of her body, the way her back arched when he aimed his hips a certain way… It wouldn’t be difficult to force her voice out, but tonight, it didn’t feel appropriate.

Instead, he drank in the quiet noises of pleasure that slipped past her lips, satisfied by the private secrecy it gave to their little rendezvous. He smiled and increased his pace to edge her further. Alina’s jaw gaped and she let out a pitiful gasp. Her hands grasped his even tighter, her nails digging into his skin.

He smiled, enjoying the view of their group’s resourceful, witty leader rendered into soft, quivering putty in his hands.

Alina squirmed under him, a telltale sign of her approaching release.

Astarion’s flesh yearned its own release, his abdomen tightening in preparation as he watched Alina’s pleasure contorted face. It was like clockwork these days. Watching Alina as she came apart in his hands did things to him, things he never thought he could feel with another person.

Every movement came automatic to him, practiced to perfection like a rigorous dance. No room for self-expression, lest it break the fantastic illusion he was projecting. He felt himself slip away, but was immediately yanked back into the moment by hungry kisses.

Alina licked her way into his mouth, skillfully pulling all his attention back to her. She was growing so close, the way her wet folds clasped his strained length confirmed it.

He let his focus slip away in the moment, knowing once Alina reached her peak, he’d get his – a treat he got to experience almost without fail with her.

Alina’s hands slipped away from his lazy grasp and winded over and around his neck and shoulders, pulling their bodies flush together. Her soft, ample chest squished against his toned chest and her plush thighs pressed harder against his sides. One of her hands settled behind his back, while the other tangled lovingly into his hair.

His own confused hands felt around the bedroll before instinctively wrapping under Alina’s back, holding her tight.

She broke the kiss that had continued all this time and panted right next to his ear, her voice whiny and desperate.

“Astarion…!” Alina whimpered and Astarion felt a jolt run through his spine.

He rocked his hips harder and Alina’s legs fell wider apart. Her voice threatened to grow in volume and pitch, but Astarion got overwhelmed by an increasing need to keep all of this moment to himself. He sealed her mouth with his own, capturing each and every moan between his lips.

He tasted every corner of her mouth, already knowing each and every inch of it, still not bored to explore through it all over again. Alina kissed him back fervently. Her tongue pushed boldly past his back into his mouth, unafraid of the sharp fangs that might scrape and make her bleed.

Astarion moaned when he felt one of Alina’s hands stroking through his curls and lightly yanking at the strands every now and then. The hand over his back was digging its nails into his skin, a slightly painful, but welcome feeling he’d grown to enjoy.

Finally, Alina’s breathing grew erratic and her movements shaky. Astarion smiled against her lips and brought her over the edge, soon following suit. Alina’s pleasure bloomed around him, heated wetness convulsing around him as he spilled inside of her. His hips shook against her, their rhythm broken and uneven. He hummed against Alina’s lips, the blissful heat of his own orgasm washing over him.

Both of them stilled, the silence around them filled only by their heavy breathing and the occasional wet sound of their conjoined bodies still moving against one another.

Astarion moved to separate their bodies, but Alina wrapped her legs around his lower back, trapping him in place. She cupped his face with both hands and kissed him slowly. Astarion blinked in surprise and eased into Alina’s wordless demands, allowing her to shower him with more physical affection.

Usually he parted their bodies quickly after everything was done, like finishing a smooth, clean business transaction with no further clauses to fill. It was how he used to go about things. A neat modus operandi to keep things simple and to prevent himself from getting too involved.

Alina was an exception – “a regular”, as he sometimes thought to himself. He found himself slipping further from his own rules each night he spent in Alina’s embrace, lured in by her sweet nature and the gentle allure of her touch.

She caressed his cheek with a thumb.

“That felt good.” Alina said softly.

“I am well aware. You were about to wake up the whole camp again…”

Alina’s happiness died and turned to embarrassment. Her blush reached all the way up to her pointy ears.

“No I wasn’t.”

“Oh, yes you were, sweetheart.”

“I held back.” She claimed.

“Correction. I held you back.”

“Maybe.” Alina peeked to her side, feigning ignorance.

Astarion chuckled.

“I am in control of you darling.”

“Are you?” Alina tightened her legs around his lower back and rolled them over.

Astarion let out a little whimper, staring up at Alina in shock. She sat upon his hips with her back straight, hands drawing lazy patterns on his abdomen.

“You’re more than welcome to prove me otherwise.”Alina smiled and leaned down over to him.

Astarion smiled and remained where he was, allowing Alina to pull him into another slow kiss. He relaxed against her, thinking through her statement and forgot about it altogether, melting into her kiss.

All thoughts about Gale and Shadowheart were gone, pushed off the cliff of his mind into the pit of obscurity.

Alina was here, in his arms. He had her all to himself, and she had him all to herself.

He had lost the game to himself.

[raayllum]

Punishment VS Acceptance: The Silvergrove and Callum

5x01, 5x04, and 5x08 were probably my favourite episodes for Rayla and Callum’s dynamic this season, for obvious reasons, and rewatching the bulk of the season next day after (and for a nice meta segue) I wanted to tackle the downright beautiful parallels between 3x03 and 5x01 (and a little bit of 4x03). 

So let’s get into it.

As we all know, Rayla returns home in 3x03, and gets a... more brutal welcoming than she was expecting, partially due to her own perceived crimes, and due to the Silvergrove’s associative prejudices/inclinations.

It is extremely important to note that (at this time at least) Rayla is banished for something she didn’t even do: “But you didn’t run away from anything. They just don’t know what happened.” And although initially dejected, she remains hopeful and ‘confident’ that Ethari wouldn’t have done the spell.

Ethari, however, temporarily chooses his grief and village over his daughter, and shuts her out... in a way, framing wise, that’s not too dissimilar from Callum’s initial cold reaction in 4x01.

Which makes sense, as both Ethari (and later Amaya) state is quite similar:

Then, of course, while pursuing the exact opposite of abandoning her family, and trying to figure out what happened to them, Rayla is caught emerging from Viren’s old sealed off chambers in 5x01 and accordingly arrested. What I found particularly interesting is that in spite of being fully able to, Rayla doesn’t actually say a single word during her pseudo trial, Callum and Opeli doing all the talking for her (on both ends). 

She knew stealing the key wasn’t the right thing to do, but felt unable (or unwilling) to share the burden of the coins with Callum, probably because she hasn’t been able to rely on anyone in a long time (two years alone did not help) and that it’s always been something she’s struggled with. Runaan and Callum’s complicated personal history likely didn’t help either.

And just like the Silvergrove, Opeli is arresting her on the basis of association:

and unlike the Silvergrove, on account of crimes she actually committed. 

And I think there’s a lot of reasons Rayla doesn’t speak up in this scene - shame, the way she’s never been particularly good at advocating for herself, the general emotional difficulties present - but I think the main reason is that she left Callum an explanation in Through The Moon about why she left and he was still (understandably) angry with her, but more than that is that the Silvergrove flat out did not care about her intentions, and she knows it. 

E: I told Runaan you were too good hearted for the work of an assassin, so I know you did not betray them out of malice. 

Why would this time be any different, especially when as stated, she’s done all the things she’s being accused of?

But Callum isn’t the Silvergrove, so of course he’s different.

Where they stripped her of her home and literal identity, labelling her a Ghost, he reaffirms that her name - “She’s not ‘the elf’ - she’s Rayla” and that he knows exactly who she is. Where the Silvergrove robbed her of a chance to explain herself...

Callum says that she doesn’t need to even when it’s being demanded of her. Whereas before her intentions didn’t matter, they’re all that count here, enough that he is willing to disregard literally everything else (including his own complicated feelings about said murder bow). 

C: I know this. [To love is simply to know this:] The tides are true as the ocean is deep. O: What does that mean, Prince Callum? C: It means I trust her. Unconditionally. Let her go. Now. 

He doesn’t know ‘what happened’ as far as her intentions and motivations, only the worst presentation of her behaviour. But he refuses to punish her for doing something alone, for not asking for help, for keeping a secret. Instead he’s warm and compassionate and vouches for her, and if anything takes a certain amount of self-imposed responsibility on his own shoulders of realizing that if Rayla didn’t feel like she could come to him with something, he needs to be doing something different. 

All while also reaffirming his faith in her - that it’s nothing that would hurt him, that she wants to tell him, that she will tell him one day, that she will be ready, and that he hopes she knows she can trust him.

Because he loves her.

[weirdsht]

(Un)Attainable - Alberu/Fem! Reader

notes: the og prompt for this was suppose to be super angsty, but I'm not so mean that I would make you guys cry the second I have the time to write. Also I notice a lot of people are using "Alver" now but I just can't, I'm so sorry huhu

tags: female reader, vague novel spoilers, forbidden love(?), lovesick Alberu if you squint

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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Alberu’s first priority will always be the Roan Kingdom and its citizens. He will always put the welfare of his people before his own wants. Alberu is the type of crown prince who is willing to play as the villain just to see his citizens prosper. Even when no one will be able to appreciate his sacrifices. All for the sake of his selfish desire to see his people thrive.

That’s the simple fact the people around Alberu know.

They know that he has no time for love. No time to indulge in such things when he has a kingdom to run. Alberu Crossman has said so himself several times in the past.

But oh, what is this feeling blooming in the crown prince’s heart? Could they be feelings of romantic affection?

Could the prideful prince be eating his own words of not taking in a spouse in the future?

Maybe, or perhaps not.

He does know one thing though…

It’s the fact that he's charting into dangerous territory.

Not only was he dumb enough to fall in love. That wasn’t enough.

No no no

The quarter-dark elf was stupid enough to fall for the one person he couldn’t get.

Adin’s fiance, the soon-to-be crown princess of the Mogoru Empire. The empire of the Sun God Church. The one place where his chances of his dark elf bloodline being discovered is higher.

But can anyone blame him and his beating heart? How could he not fall when she’s so sweet, so ethereal?

So undeserving of that bastard Adin.

She was so good. So kind, so strong, so smart, so compassionate.

And Adin was… a scumbag, for a lack of a better word. Someone undeserving love.

Despite that, Adin was still her fiance. Adin and not Alberu.

“I’ve known him since we were kids. Our engagement had been decided from the moment the emperor found out I was a girl. They said I was the perfect wife for him. That I can strengthen the royal bloodline.”

She had confided one night. Her dignified yet soft voice had a tinge of longing in it. As if longing for the life she could’ve had outside of being Adin’s bethroed. 

“Your Highness [Name] has your time with Prince Adin made you grow some affection for him?”

Alberu hopes that the answer is no. That despite the headstart Adin had, [Name] hadn’t fallen for his charms.

That instead she’d fall for Alberu’s charms.

He’s the better choice. He could give her so much more than Adin could ever. Alberu will make sure that she will have the chance to showcase her talent to the world. He will make sure to treat her like the princess she is. This crown prince won’t treat her as if she’s a mere trophy whose sole job is to be bragged around.

[Name] was so much better than that.

She has wits that can help run a kingdom. She has the compassion for her citizens. The heart that screams and begs to aid her people. She has a strong persona that has so much more use than just being shown around to nobles.

Alberu Crossman can see that she’s worth more than Adin displayed her to be— no, in fact in Alberu’s eyes she’s worthless. No system of measurement can gauge her worth.

“No amount of time spent with Adin can make me grow affection for the man. Whether it’s platonic or romantic.”

The quarter-dark elf almost let his shoulders sag. He was so relieved that he nearly conveyed his true feelings. 

He has a chance– Alberu Crossman actually has a chance..!

Alberu was so happy that he nearly didn’t catch [Name]’s next words.

“That man is so awful, hence why no amount of time with him can make me tolerate him. But I’m sure you already know of such things. As a matter of fact, my trusted handmaiden is on her way to make negotiations with your dear commander.”

Roan Kingdom’s rising sun had to double-take, unsure if the words he was hearing were correct.

“I’m not as dumb as the world thinks of me.”

Alberu must have had a stupefied look on his face for the lovely lady in front of him to make such a comment.

“No, no my lady, that’s not what I meant. I am well aware of your wits and capabilities. It’s just that my commander and I had been ready to do everything in our power to turn you over to our side.”

To turn you over so that you’ll be in my arms instead– of course, Alberu said no such thing. Only letting such degenerative thoughts run through his mind.

“My lady is highly intelligent, highly perceptive. You are also close to Adin, you are a core player in taking such a man off his high horse.”

[Name] had an incredulous look on her face. Like Alberu was flattering her too much. However, he wasn’t. The poor prince had only been telling the truth.

“I didn’t think that the future king of the Roan Kingdom was one to… get brownie points.”

“You wound me, my fair lady. I was merely stating the truth. Nonetheless, since we’re on the topic… do you mind people who try to get brownie points?”

Alberu isn’t sure where he got the guts to be so coy. But he was glad he did because [Name]’s expression was better than he’d hoped for.

“Hmm well, I guess I don’t mind. If it’s from a silver-haired prince maybe I wouldn’t entertain it. Luckily, blonde seems to be my type… or was it brown?”

[Name] had a knowing look on her face and oh god can Alberu fall any deeper. He should be scared, should be nervous that another person seems to know his secret. But no, instead, he feels himself falling deeper in love.

“Don’t worry your highness your secret is safe with me. I wouldn’t do my potential lover dirty like that.”

Yeah… safe to say that Alberu’s in too deep now.

[starlessea2]

Wild-flower [Astarion]

Chapter 3 - Cut And Run

Summary: The first time Astarion saw her, she'd been drunk and starry-eyed. The next, sober enough not to trust him. A/N We finally see Astarion's POV, and boy is it fun to write... Masterlist

Astarion unfurls his bedroll furthest away from the fire. He doesn’t trust those people. Not yet—probably not ever.

But he understands they are bound by whatever unfortunate circumstances they’ve found themselves in, and Astarion’s not foolish enough to think he’s better off without allies. So he plays his part perfectly; he’s charming, witty, co-operative, even.

But on the inside, he’s shaken. 

When he first came to, on that patch of grass near the beach, he was sure he would burst into flames at any given moment. But he didn’t. Oddly enough, the sun didn’t scorch his skin. Neither did the tide sting him; it only made shoes soggy. 

Two hundred years of vampirism reduced to naught thanks to the houseguest swimming about in his brain. He’s almost thankful. 

That is, until a bunch of misfits decide to sneak up on him. 

Before he knows it, he’s got one pinned to the ground, and her voice is ringing in his head. All at once, he’s seeing into the deepest corners of her mind; he hears her fear, surprise, and then, her relief. And of course, it’s the bloody wood elf. 

She looks as flushed as she did in Fraygo’s Flophouse—even with his knife at her throat—and for the first time since opening his eyes, Astarion is reminded that he cannot escape the past.

It’s an awkward reunion. He barely recalls her name before she reminds him. But they’re a united front for the time being, and Astarion knows he can use that to his advantage.

So he sticks close. They rescue the gith without bloodshed, much to his dismay, and their rag-tag group of weirdos becomes weirder still. It’s not until the sun starts to set that the realisation sinks in: this is his life now. 

By the time they make camp, Astarion is tired, hungry and irritable. None of which he shows. Instead he sits quietly and observes his surroundings.

He makes note of Shadowheart, tinkering away at that strange artefact. He watches Lae’zel sharpen her sword (probably to take the cleric’s head with it later), and even spares a glance for Gale, who is thumbing through the tome he ransacked from a dead man’s crypt. 

Then there’s Jessamine. 

He catches her trying to look busy—trying to avoid his eye. It’s almost sad how out of place she appears as she smoothes out her bedroll. He’s certain she’s never used one in her life. But still, she puts on a show of fiddling with it, and once she’s done, she finally lets herself saunter over.

Astarion’s grins. “What a surprise,” he remarks, “if I didn’t know better, my dear, I’d say I had a stalker.” 

Her expression is blank. “May I sit?” she asks. 

He gestures to the empty spot beside him. She’s a different person from the Flophouse, he thinks. Far less giddy; far less wine.

Jessamine perches on a nearby log, allowing plenty of space between them. At closer inspection, Astarion sees that her wheat-coloured hair has been braided with an array of decorative charms. A wood elf tradition, perhaps. It’s delicate—intricate even. But her skin and clothes are both caked with filth, and if it wasn’t for that face of hers, no one would question her status as a beggar.

“So, did you have something to say or did you just come to admire me?” he asks her.

A small laugh follows. “And which would you prefer?”

The lightness of her voices catches Astarion off guard. It’s the first hint of personality she’d shown him all day (not that he’d been waiting for it). 

Around the others, she’d acted so well-adjusted. Nothing but smiles and well-timed quips. But only Astarion had noticed how she’d skulked off into the woods at the first opportunity. And he certainly didn’t miss her red-ringed eyes and snotty nose when she returned to camp. It was equally pitiful as it was disgusting.

“Astarion,” Jessamine says, and for a second he worries his thoughts have leaked out. “I came to apologise. I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot today.” 

Astarion’s about to applaud her sarcasm when he realises she’s being serious. He looks at her incredulously. Surely she remembers that he was the one to nearly slit her throat?

“Before, at the Flophouse… I admit I’m not much of a drinker.” She pauses. Astarion tries to act as though that’s some sort of revelation. It’s not, obviously; he’d heard her slurring long before he made his move. “I’m embarrassed you saw me like that, but I shouldn’t have treated you coldly because of it. I’m glad you’re here.” 

Astarion bites back a scowl; her sincerity irks him. He’s about to respond when Jessamine’s eyes suddenly grow wide, and words pour out of her mouth faster than she can think them. “Not that I’m glad you were abducted by mindflayers and have a parasite swimming around in your skull—gods no, of course I didn’t mean it like that—”

Watching her is painful, Astarion thinks. He's sure he’s aged a decade. She carries herself with such elegance, but it’s all for naught when she opens her mouth.

“—I’m just relieved to see a familiar face. No matter how new.”

And by the gods, she’s finally finished.

Satisfied with her answer, Jessamine nods to herself before turning to face him. There’s a smile on her lips. It’s young—pure.

That stupid girl.

“The feeling’s mutual, my dear. And I must say, a face as sweet as yours is truly something.”

Jessamine either doesn’t hear him, or pretends she doesn’t. “Tell me,” she says, “how does a magistrate come to end up in Farygo’s Flophouse, anyway? From what I could tell, it’s hardly a den for polite society.”

Astarion hums. A million different answers run through his mind—each as well-prepared as the next. But for some reason, he chooses a new one. “It’s a secret.”

“I’m good with secrets.”

She's giving Astarion an opportunity, but he senses no expectation in her voice. So he offers her a small smile but does not speak more.

In the space between them, the campfire he’d lit for himself is about to die out. Jessamine notices, and reignites it with an ignis. As it flickers back to life, Astarion is reminded of their earlier escapades at the crypt. 

She’d used fire then too. A few half-hearted spells cast at their undead foe, but nothing compared to the flashy ones the wizard of Waterdeep used. 

Still, she’d be valuable elsewhere, Astarion was sure. She was a pretty little thing (a faculty she ought to make use of before she spouts tentacles), and the way she’d bartered for the gith showed the persuasiveness of a bard. 

Even now, Astarion isn’t fully convinced that magic is her calling.

Jessamine stands. After stoking the fire once more, she mutters something about turning in for the night. She was exhausted; it doesn't take having a tadpole to notice. When Lae’zel declared she’d take first watch, Jessamine didn’t fight it (none of them did).

If he had to guess, she’s just dying to trance. 

“I just remembered something,” Astarion says, before she can return to her bedroll. “A certain show I was invited to but never did get to attend.”

Jessamine stills. Recognition crosses her face.

“You know, I really do hate missing out.”

A blush tints her cheeks, but she doesn't humour it. “Goodnight, Astarion,” she says.

He tutts. Her words are decisive as she walks away, chilly in comparisson to the firelight. But there's hesitation in her step—like she doesn't really want to leave.

As Astarion watches her retreat to the other side of camp, he is greeted by a sense of satisfaction.

He is going to win her so, so easily.

─────

Astarion can read people like a book.

From a glance, he could tell what they wanted from him: his words, his body, his heart. And he always let them have it, or think they had it, at least.

It’s how he’d gotten Shadowheart to tolerate him, despite their first meeting, and Gale to loan him some interesting reading material. Jessamine he already had wrapped around his finger, and Lae’zel—well, she was in a category of her own. The point being, Astarion was strategic, and he’d spent the last day and a half moving his pieces to the best possible spots… 

And where had it gotten him?

Staring down a bloody goblin horde. 

Across their mental connection, his companions decide whether to intervene in the scuffle. The gith is eager for bloodshed, whilst Gale has a penchant for heroics. Shadowheart can be swayed either way, but it seems Jessamine has already made her mind up.

In the corner of his eye, Astarion catches sight of her. She shifts her weight between her feet, eyes darting, blood pumping so strong he can see it swell beneath her skin. She’s bracing herself, he realises. Like she even has a chance.

The thought irritates him.

As they stand before the gates to the grove, the goblins, and the flailing dimwits who led them there, Astarion can see it now: all his efforts to seduce this so-called-sorceress about to implode spectacularly as she decides to play hero.

Mentally, he weighs up his options. How much value does he put on their alliance—on her aptitude at persuasion? It’s a millisecond later that he comes to the conclusion.

She’s not worth the trouble. 

So Astarion prepares some words of encouragement. If he’s lucky, her valiant sacrifice might buy him enough time to skulk away unnoticed.

But when he turns to her, she’s gone.

“Shadowheart—” she calls out from below, right in the midst of it all, “do it now!”

Astarion has no clue what’s happening. But it seems the cleric does. She reacts immediately, and not a moment later, the ground is soaked with rain.

“Perurē,” Jessamine chants. Lightning sparks at her feet and half the goblins go down. In an instant she loots a dagger from one on the ground before slicing at another, unfortunate-enough to still be standing.

Lae’zel joins her in the fray. Their movements are on opposite ends of a spectrum. The gith is a force, and Jessamine, a dance. She’s nimble; there’s hardly any power to her slashes but they’re left-field enough to catch her enemies off guard. Astarion has to give it to her, whilst goblins aren't known for their intelligence, not many would expect a magic-user to come so close.

He certainly wouldn't.

And the way she fights... Astarion doesn’t know how to describe it. There's no hesitation in her movements. No intent, either. He watches as she careens to the side to avoid an attack, before sending the offender flying with a thunderwave. It's decisive—like part of a sequence she already knows.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart seethes.

Hearing his name, Astarion realises he hasn’t moved a muscle since it all began. In his defence, he hadn’t planned on staying this long.

Feeling the cleric's gaze bear into him, he steels himself. Since most of the heavy lifting had already been done, he might as well deal the finishing blow. He nocks his first arrow.

Between them, it's light work. Astarion is diligent in picking goblins off with his bow. They don't notice him, and that's how he prefers it. Lae’zel’s brutish strength is admirable, Jessamine’s gall, laughable, and Gale contributes. Somehow.

Behind them, Shadowheart stands by to tend to any bruises and scratches.

He dares say, it's almost easy.

What Astarion doesn’t foresee is the Blade of Frontiers making gallant, last-minute appearance to soak up the glory. Nor that his parasite would recognises another within him.  

Astarion isn't given time to comprehend what, exactly, that means. Everything happens so fast. In the wake of their victory, a tiefling stationed above the gate waves his arms at them. “Don't just stand there,” he yells, “get inside before any more can show up!”

They listen to him for the time being.

Ushered through the gate, Astarion rejoins his companions. Jessamine's got a few scrapes, but nothing a low-level spell can't fix. Lae'zel is decorated with guts, and the scent clinging to her is dizzying. To his disgust, Astarion finds himself salivating over a mixture of goblin and idiot blood.

He needs to feed soon.

That boar has scarcely satiated him, and being around death so often definitely wasn't ideal for his sanguine hunger. He'll leave camp tonight, he decides. There ought to be something out there for him to sink his teeth into.

That is, if those within the camp don't temp him first.

He puts the thought away from him.

Once safely behind the grove's gates, the Blade of Frontiers wastes no time coming to greet them. Closer now, Astarion feels it instantly; that incessant squirming behind his eye.

Keep quiet for now, the Blade's tadpole speaks to theirs. Then he follows up with a knowing look that could be easily misconstrued as a warning.

“I have to say, those were some moves out there,” praises the Blade—or Wyll, as he prefers.

Gale sputters. “Yes, and for the sake of our wellbeing, they're ones we're not looking to repeat anytime soon.”

Beside him, the gith shakes her head. When she picks at his robe, it's pristine compared to her bloodied armour. “Chk. You did far too little to take credit, wizard.”

Gale falls silent. There's no disputing it; he had been on the backburner during that fight.

Astarion's about to contribute to the verbal thrashing when Wyll intervenes. “My friends, let's save our slights for our foes beyond the gate.”

No one responds to the chiding, but Wyll shucks out another batch of compliments nonetheless. Astarion's not naive enough to think they're for him; anyone can see they're being spoken for the wood elf's benefit.

He’s giving her a look all men know how to give, and Jessamine's either oblivious to it or desensitised enough not to care. “I'm looking for Halsin,” she says, her voice intentionally reaching beyond their conversation.

It's a name she's never uttered before now, but one many in the crowd respond to. A man they'd rescued from the horde shifts in place, before being pulled aside for questioning by the same teifling who brought them here.

Astarion makes no effort to eavesdrop. Whatever politics existed in this overgrown hovel, he couldn't care less. He instead directs his attentions to this new place: the people, their valuables (or lack thereof). Aside from the druid, he doubts there's anything worthwhile here.

He makes that clear, of course. But Jessamine’s already got her sights set on all those wretched refugees. The next thing he knows, they’re being showboated around on a pity tour of their piss-poor grove. 

And Astarion wishes he had just cut and run. 

-

< previous chapter / next chapter >

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hello,if of course you wanted and if it was your will, could you write something about Thranduil. About how once, while returning to his Kingdom, he came across a slave trade where he saw an elven woman who was scared and emaciated. Thranduil is moved by this and buys her out, then takes her to the palace, though she is distrustful, appreciates him helping her, and over time I fall in love with him. You don't have to agree with this, but it may have been after Thranduil became King, but also before his son was born. Of course, if you want to write about it, and that would be your will...

Hello! I wrote this event taking place just after the sinking of Beleriand, with Oropher ruling Greenwood the Great and sections of Middle Earth being a bit of a dumpster fire after the War of Wrath. I hope you don’t mind the change. This is part one. Part two should be out in a fortnight, or just after that, and from Thranduil’s POV.

“A Better Future” Part 1

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Elf/Noldor |Third Person POV)

Themes: Angst | Dark

Warnings: Death | Indentured servitude | Indenture Auction | Mentions of slavery | Mentions of sexual slavery | Mistreatment | Examination for purity

Wordcount : 2.3K words

Summary: An elf of the Noldor finds herself on the auction block, facing a dreary future.

A/n: For Lady Githa I drew inspiration from Six of Crows’ Tante Heleen. Most of part one is around reader's backstory, and there is only some dialog towards the end.

Minors DNI

Y/Ns POV

Y/n was still drowsy when she opened her eyes. She had seen herself with her father, listening to him play the harp and sing while her mother sewed away by the fire. There were hot pies and fresh fruit and cheese to nibble on, and her father would leave the harp to indulge in her thirst for tales of the Blessed Realm. Home was safe and warm, and everyone was alive.

Such a beautiful dream. And a dream it would forever be. Y/n threw back the rags that served as coverlets and sat up straight on the pallet that served as a featherbed. Her back ached after a night of fitful sleep. She glanced around the near-empty chamber, which was barely large enough for her. There were no possessions here, and she was not allowed any. Oh, she had been promised new garments, a hot meal, and a bath for this day, but she knew such gifts came with a heavy price. She had moved among the Edain long enough to learn this harsh truth. Y/n looked at the stone ceiling and sighed mournfully. Her fate will be decided today.

My fate was decided a long time ago, in another life, she thought bitterly. Her father had followed the sons of Fëanor and played a part in the second Kinslaying. All that returned of him was news of his disgrace and death, his role in the slaughter, and how he doomed his bloodline along with himself. As for her mother? She no longer wished to live. She followed the path of Miriel before her, lying down in a meadow and letting her fëa peacefully depart from her body. That was how y/n found her—a vessel from which the jewel had spilled. Alone and without friends, she performed the final rights for her mother before departing for safer pastures. Someone was bound to take pity on her and give her shelter; she was certain of it.

That was not to be. Door after door closed to her as soon as she made her name and ties known. Elves did not wish to sully themselves by associating with one bearing the blood of a kinslayer. The Edain did not want to offend wealthy elven patrons. Y/n had been forced to wander further and further east, year after year, alone and frightened, keeping to the outer borders of kingdoms and selling off her family’s possessions one by one in exchange for coin so she could have clothes and food. She watched in horror while smoke rose from distant battlefields, praying the fighting would never reach her. She trembled when she heard strange and terrifying roars. She listened to the songs about how the Valar finally sent their host to deal with a most wretched enemy, how the lands she once ran across as a child had been claimed by the sea. The grief of such a loss—of her home and her family—was so great that it caused her pain powerful enough to nearly cripple her. She bore it all silently. She had no choice, and she did not have a single creature to confide in. Finally, a mortal took pity on her, or so she thought. He offered her a roof over her head and a better future; all she needed to do was agree to his terms.  

Y/n snorted in derision. A better future. If only she had listened to the voice within her, demanding that she refuse. This man would play her false, it said, and place her in a condition with no hope for escape. But y/n was desperate. What coin she had left on her person was all but gone. She was tired of wandering, with no home and no hope and no future to look forward to. She agreed. And felt nothing but regret over the choice she made.

Someone knocked insistently on the door. "I am ready," she called softly. Servants of the house walked in with a healer. Y/n was asked to lay face up and stay still. A flush crept up her throat, but she did as she was told. The healer pulled her rough-spun robe up to her waist and spread her legs, to examine her. Y/n felt a pinch and winced. Her cheeks were ablaze with humiliation. She was told this was necessary. Y/n did not want to think why.

The maids mouthed meaningless comforts while they led her to the baths. Y/n did not believe they meant a word of what they said. They were only loyal to the master of the house and did not spare a thought for her before this. She sat still in a copper tub and was bathed in hot water scented with fragrant oils. One maid carefully washed her hair before picking up a comb to brush the tangles. The other cleaned her feet and nails before scrubbing her back. She chatted incessantly while she went about her tasks. Y/n listened. Anything to distract her from what was about to happen.

"Everyone is talking about you," Eda gossiped, red-cheeked and excited. "Fights have broken out amongst the younger lordlings and..."

"That is quite enough from you, Eda," the other maid, Cwene, cut in harshly. She wanted to end whatever Eda longed to say. Eda bit her lip and nodded anxiously. They both went back to work, silent as the dead.

Y/n shivered and gulped in fright. She knew what was going to happen. She was to be indentured. The man who promised her a brighter future would sell her skills and her, to the one who was willing to pay the most. Those fortunate few who served those with fair hearts had the price of their purchase decrease over time and enjoyed a better life after that. Many more were given a price that only increased as the years passed. They had to toil day after day and year after year, slaves in all but name. Then there were those unfortunate few who faced the bleakest of all futures. Y/n did not allow herself to dwell on those others.

She thought, Perhaps I will be one of the fortunate few, and allowed herself to be helped out of the bath. Perhaps, I will be lucky.

Y/n let the maids lead her to another room and stood still while they toweled her dry and dressed her in silken wisps that made her blush. Then came her gown. It was so soft and smooth that it slipped over her palms like water. She could not remember the last time she wore anything so fine. It made her feel like a lamb being led to slaughter. Eda took her to a nearby stool and asked her to sit. She brushed y/n’s hair until it shone and arranged it in braids and coils. Dabs of sweet-smelling perfume were placed on each wrist and behind each ear. Finally came a pair of sandals crafted out of soft leather. Y/n sighed as if in a dream. The sandals embraced her feet gently, like lovers. Cwene held up a looking glass for her to see her reflection. Y/n was startled. She could not recognize herself.

"She looks like a proper princess now," was all Cwene allowed. Someone else arrived and knocked on the door to the baths. It was the master of the house.

"Take this one to the yard," he rasped to Eda. "The others are growing impatient."

The yard was all freshly cut grass and new flowers, and it was already full of Edain. They gaped at the elf on the raised dais, their looks making her skin crawl. A tall, beautiful woman with hair like spun gold and rubies glinting on her ears, fingers, and throat, climbed up the steps and came to y/n. She looked at her critically. Y/n buried a sob when she saw the rubies. They reminded her of her mother’s hair.

"Beautiful," she whispered, the sweetness of her voice doing little to hide the bitterness lurking beneath. She tilted y/n’s chin with the tip of an elegant walking stick. She wanted to see how her eyes caught the light. Satisfied with what she saw, the woman looked over y/n’s hair and ears, and even her teeth. "Her eyes are like jewels. But tell me, I pray you. Why does she look so gaunt and melancholy? Has she not been fed well?"

It was not said out of kindness. There was none in the lady’s hardened gray eyes. Y/n lowered her gaze and closed her own, as was expected. She did not say that she was given meager scraps because the master of the house did not wish to waste more coin than he already had on her. It could only go badly for her if she did.

"She has," Y/n’s master replied hastily. He crept up to her and dug his fingers into her arm, warning her to keep quiet. Y/n bit her tongue to stop herself from making a sound. "And since the lords that frequent The Blue Rose expect women fit for a king," he added, "This one will do nicely after a good meal, yes?"

"Indeed," the woman conceded, and looked y/n over again. She grabbed y/n's cheek hard, her nails digging into the skin. "Cry if you must," she whispered harshly when y/n, trapped and unable to move, whimpered. "Tear out your hair. I would too if I was in your place. But know this, elf. When the dust clears, you will be mine."

The woman turned to face y/n's master. "Your herald tells me she is untouched."

"Aye, lady Githa," came the reply. "The healer assured me of this."

"This truly is a most blessed day." Githa finally let go and laughed merrily. Y/n fell ill at the sound and found herself overcome with the shivers, but she welcomed the release from Githa's presence. She knew of The Blue Rose. Githa ruled it with an iron fist and was known to be a cruel mistress. The Blue, as it was more commonly known, welcomed the coin of high-born edain, some with tastes that could make one's stomach turn. At least, that was what the maids said. The women sent there never earned their freedom. Some, she had heard through careless chatter, did not even make it out alive. Y/n wanted to flee, to run somewhere no one knew of, and to hide. Since she could not, since she was already trapped, she prayed, hoping against all hope that she would not have to spend the rest of her days toiling on her back.

A herald came forth and called out her name and ties. His words were met with boisterous cheers. "She was born in the four hundred and fiftieth year of the first age," he continued, "and is skilled in both the high harp and the lute. The lady is also fluent in both Quenya and Sindarin. Her mother and father hailed from the Blessed Realm. She is meek and obedient, perfect for any household. And she is untouched. We have been assured of this. One such as her will not grace this dais again."  

Loud applause rang out around the yard. Y/n’s master grabbed her arm so hard that it hurt. She was dragged to the center of the block and made to stand straight. The herald would call out a price. Someone would offer more. Y/n listened with growing dread as her purchase price rose higher and higher. The cries soon reached a fevered frenzy that shocked her. She heard the unmistakably musical sound of Githa, the woman who looked her over like she was nothing more than a prize horse to be broken in, whatever means necessary. Githa had coin. From the way she carried on, it was plain she had plenty. If someone shouted a price, she would go higher. One by one, those others would give their excuses and stop. Y/n heard names being called out. Only six remained. Githa was one of the six. Fear coiled within her belly like a snake.

How could you do this to me, father? She wanted to cry. How could you and mother doom me to such a fate?

Y/n heard more voices. Word had already reached the marketplace and spread like a forest fire. Many poured into the yard and joined the throng. They wanted to watch. Someone shouted out ribald jests. Lady Githa replied with equal humor. The others laughed. Y/n kept her eyes closed even as her blood ran cold. She pretended not to hear. Doom coiled itself around her like a chain so heavy she could almost feel it tightening over her chest, squeezing the very air out of her. 

The herald called out names once again. Only two remained, he reminded the rest, but he invited everyone to indulge in the food and wine being served. Y/n could taste the bile at the back of her throat. Githa shouted another offer. 

"Six thousand gold pieces!" The herald declared and received a roar of approval. "And we still carry on!"

The crowd encouraged Lady Githa and her rival, urging them to continue. Grief gathered around y/n’s heart like bees. There was no escaping her fate now. No one was coming to save her. Tears welled up in her eyes and broke free. Someone laughed.  

"Twenty thousand gold pieces!" A deep voice boomed from behind the crowd. The yard went so quiet that y/n swore she would have heard a pin drop. "And an end to this wretched spectacle!"

Y/n heard the creak of floorboards. The herald went to talk with his masters. They were beside her, whispering to each other. Again, she pretended not to hear. 

"We cannot deny them," one said.

"That one will slaughter all of us if we refuse," another said. "Or do worse."

"Aye," muttered a third. "But we must give Lady Githa the opportunity to make her excuses and bow out. She may not come near us again otherwise. Continue with the sale."

"Tw-twenty thousand!" The herald returned and announced the figure. They were going to continue. "We have twenty thousand! Do either of you wish to go higher?" 

Moments passed. Y/n listened, thinking Lady Githa would call out a higher price and carry on. 

"He can have her!" Githa cried after speaking with her rival. She sounded less than pleased. "We are finished!"

"Very well!" The Herald agreed. "Twenty thousand gold! Going once, going twice, sold! To… to the crown prince of Gr-greenwood the Great!"

The herald sounded terrified. The crown prince of Greenwood the Great, he had declared. Y/n had heard of this kingdom and how its king and his people survived the sack of Doriath. In all her wanderings, she kept away from this realm, no matter how tired or weak or hungry she was. She knew she would find no welcome there. 

Y/n fearfully opened her eyes, certain the prince only brought her to punish her for the sins committed by her kin.  

Tags: @deadlymistletoe

[bunnyathy]

my people, my bkdk lovers i have such a huge hyperfixation on dungeon meshi rn what if… bkdk x dunmeshi ARGHHHi already made a whole au of bkdk in dungeon meshi’s world but its a yuri bkdk AHAHAha

so here’s a small premise of the au i made

YURI!BKDK X DUNGEON MESHI !!

its katsuki as an elf and she practices ancient magic secretly and is also one of the most skilled mage and fighter. she explores the dungeon with the bakusquad (+ ochaco lol) which consists of dwarf kiri, half-foot ochaco, ogre mina, tall men sero and denki.

katsuki is in the dungeon to be able to be king. she dislikes her upbringing and the culture she had with other elves so she ventures out to prove them wrong abt needing them and set to claim the dungeon when she heard rumours abt it.

at one point of katsuki’s many adventures through the dungeon, she meets a beastman named izuku who seems to be a hybrid of a bunny-like monster. although she was skeptical of this weird and very new beastman katsuki falls in love with her cute round eyes, freckles, small nose and her floppy green bunny ears. although despite the cheery and friendly front that izuku seems to always have, katsuki discovers her hidden dark past and her connection to the dungeon. the missing half of her bunny ear, and the scar on her forehead was evidence enough to see izuku has been through a lot.

they both didn’t get along at first. with katsuki’s brash and bold attitude with a high ego and confidence with her ability, and being a slight bully. and with izuku’s soft and kind personality but fierce and strong responses, with a hint of sarcasm. they clashed and fought with jealousy of each other’s lives; katsuki’s inferiority complex over such a peculiar and powerful species as izuku and with izuku’s mix of envy and admiration over katsuki who seemed to have it all when it comes to family and friends…

and oh yeah the meshi part,

mina, sero, and denki were the ones who insisted to eat the monsters and katsuki at first was extremely disgusted but after thinking of the reasoning and the convenience… she hesitantly agrees to eat and cook them.

she’s the chef of the group but ochaco and kiri are the most knowledgeable people about how to eat the monsters and cook them.

when izuku first found out they ate monsters she was excited because she never really thought eating her fellow monsters can be an option, but she slightly has a sinking feeling that she’s doing cannibalism…

to be continued!!

i already made a whole art abt this actually AHAHAH but i’m not done with it. its not colored yet… i just drew designs for bkdk,,, ill have to make some designs for the bakusquad

[rose-tries-to-write]

My Knight Part 2

This can be found on Ao3 under the same username!!

Part 1 Here

The next few weeks are a blur of pristine walls, well-kept gardens, and over-the-top lavishes that Grian had never dreamed of being in the same room with. Scar—the royal elf, or should he say the Crown Prince (“You couldn’t have said something sooner? warned me? anything?”)—introduced him to a world he had only ever imagined back in the orphanage when princes were everyone who held a stick as if it were a sword and pretended to slay dragons and beasts alike.

Grian couldn’t say he’d ever get used to it because he’s pretty sure he won’t get the chance to. After all, the staff all whisper bets of his employment’s expiration date. The one conversation he’d managed to hear before they’d noticed him was between the kitchen staff as they prepared Scar’s breakfast that morning.

“What do you think, Stress?” a man’s voice calls, one Grian recognizes as Bdubs. They’d met on Grian’s first day when Scar toured him through the palace, and Grian had liked the man for his upbeat and almost overwhelming personality. Scar had talked him up as one of his best staff, even noting him as more a very close friend than that of just another staff member. The sentence he speaks isn’t enough to make Grian hesitant to open the kitchen doors, but the next words have his hand hovering over the knob. “That Grian guy, that is. I hear there are bets on how long he’ll last.”

The words are so casual as if thrown out to be more a conversation about the weather rather than what it is. “Um, I don’t know. I’ve never met the fellow, but I hear he’s real good at his job.” The girl, Stress as Bdubs had called her, sounds uncomfortable about the topic of conversation. “Though, I guess being good at his job doesn’t promise his place here, with Scar’s track record. I don’t know, I… I don’t think it’s nice to bet on his failure.”

He’d never heard of ‘Scar’s track record’ as she put it, before now, but it sounds like maybe he should have. He listens as Bdubs responds, “Of course not, but you have to admit it’s interesting. Scar’s never kept a personal guard for longer than a week, the staff hasn’t had something to gossip about like this in years.” He huffs, almost disapproving but it’s hard to tell from behind a door.

Grian is stunned, pondering the implications of such a statement. If Scar had never kept a guard, fired enough for it to become a thing among the staff to bet on the next one’s failure, then he must be hard to please. Grian is hit with the sudden thought of him not being enough to please someone like Scar. He’s a Prince for the gods’ sake, what could Grian possibly offer him as a guard when he’s nothing more than some thief? He’s hit with the thought that, even though he’s lasted longer than a week that doesn’t guarantee that Scar won’t get bored of him.

Grian is pulled from his thoughts by the kitchen doors opening and a small woman with short brown hair stepping out. Her eyes of milk chocolate brown meet his of deep charcoal black and she is frozen in surprise and what looks a lot like guilt. He takes the tray from her hands, knowing just from the sight of eggs and bacon laid out to appear like a smiling face that this is Scar’s breakfast, and escapes the confrontation before it can even begin.

The rest of the day is spent like this, worrying himself into corners as he constantly overanalyzes his actions throughout the day. Is there something more he can do as he stands at attention in the library? Should he be doing something to help Scar while he does paperwork? Is he good enough for Scar to keep around-

“Grian?” He startles, snapping his head to look at Scar where he sits in his study, just a few feet from where Grian stands guard behind him, “Are you okay?” the Prince asks once he has the avian’s attention.

“What?” Grian asks, caught off guard after being pulled from his circling thoughts.

“Are you okay, Grian? You look like you’re gonna pass out.” Scar says in a joking tone, but Grian can hear the genuine worry that sits just under his laughter. Grian nods his head with a shaky smile, feeling words catch in his throat with the thoughts of Scar thinking he’s too sick to do his job. This, unfortunately, seems to make Scar more worried as the smile he always sports wavers as if Scar wants to drop it. He gestures to the couch, “You can rest if you need to Grian, I understand that standing around while I do my work can get boring.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine.” Grian dismisses, panic threatening at the edges of his voice. He sounds strained even to his own ears and he can see the way it only makes Scar more worried about him. Scar gives him a once over before he sighs and stands from his chair. “Wha- Where are you going?” Grian asks as Scar rounds the table.

Scar glances at him before throwing himself down onto the couch that sits neatly against one wall with a backdrop of towering windows, flowing green curtains framing it on either side. “You might not be tired, but I am. That paperwork is far too boring for something I have to do every day,” He bemoans, sinking into the couch and closing his eyes. “Join me, Grian. You don’t have to sleep, but at least sit down with me.”

Grian can see the slick smile that stretches Scar’s face from here, and he narrows his eyes at the Prince. “I can see what you’re doing…. but fine.” Grian grumbles at Scar winning this, but joins Scar on the couch anyway to appease him. It feels wrong to be sitting with Scar when there are things he’s supposed to be doing. Duties as a guard, as the personal guard of the Crown Prince, that Grian can feel creeping up on him even as he tries to relax like Scar wants.

And, maybe Scar can sense it because he sits up and turns to face Grian. He sighs, a look of worry and sadness that looks so wrong on a face that Grian is used to being twisted in a smile. “This isn’t working. You’re stressed and you won’t talk to me about it,” Scar looks down at his hands, twiddling with them as he gathers his thoughts, “I… Did I do something..?” He finally asks, looking up to meet Grian’s eyes.

Grian, for all it is worth, doesn’t know how to respond. In some ways, it is Scar’s fault. He’s the one who goes through guards like they’re toys, he’s the one who chose a thief as a guard, he’s the one who Grian is dependent on never throwing him away. But, also, he’s not the one who told Grian his employment was limited, he wasn’t the one who made Grian believe he had to prove himself to be able to stay. “It’s not… you.”

Scar looks at him, eyes searching for something Grian isn’t sure he can show the Prince. But, for the man who helped Grian out of the streets, he can try. “I… I want to stay. I want to prove that I can be a good guard, that you can trust in me to be there. I want…” Grian looks up, meeting Scar’s eyes. The man looks close to tears, and his hands stray just a smidge too far toward Grian for it to be anything but intentional. Grian puts his hands on top of his instinctively, curling them to take hold of Scar’s hands. “I want to be good enough for you.”

“Oh, Oh, Grian.” And Scar… laughs. He grips Grian’s hands in his and bends over them, bringing them to touch against his temple as he laughs. Slowly, Grian can feel water drip onto his hands.

“Scar?” He asks worriedly, and Scar leans back with a sharp intake of air. This allows Grian to see his face, overrun with shining tear tracks and a smile so wide that Grian is tempted to join the laughter if only to make it less awkward.

“You are good enough.” Scar finally says, taking one of his hands back to wipe his tears away but it quickly returns to Grian’s hold. “I don’t know what I ever did to make you believe otherwise, but I chose you for a reason. You don’t have to prove yourself or earn my trust, you’ve had it since I made you my knight.”

Scar’s hands pull away but are shortly replaced on Grian’s face, caressing his cheeks. “Don’t cry, my knight. You’re here to stay for as long as I live.”

[kottkrig]

To Embrace The Shadow: Omen of Death

Sister Zala, a restless undead elf and the only one accustomed to the wilds, continues the search on her own.

World of Warcraft | Original Characters

Light Angst | Found Family

—————————–

Zala avoided other people in the coming days. The murderers had finally been dispatched, and she witnessed their leader die in the same inferno that he used on his victims, but vengeance wasn’t enough to calm her. He could have died a thousand deaths, and it still wouldn't be enough. Ater all of the bloodshed was over, and her ears were ringing from the silence that followed, she just felt hollow.

She would never be able to forget. They hurt what few friends she had, they scarred her reflection with holy fire, and in her time of need, took away the person she loved the most.

Out of the three, she had been the most eager to bring that invisible raven out of Lafayette’s vision, insisting that it must be a sign of the Shadow Mother. The others agreed with her, seeing no other explanation for its incredulous presence, but when they managed to coax the bird out, it snubbed them by escaping the forest. Returning home with nothing but another reminder of their loss, Zala left Lafayette and Cletus to their papers and prayers, while she slipped out into the night.

Being a restless young woman, she chose to continue the hunt alone. If anything, it was an excuse to distract her from nightmares about witnessing her mentor being immolated. As a ranger, most of her tasks were relegated to the outdoors, and people didn’t question her when she left for a while, as long as she eventually reported in. It usually took her mind off of things to scour Deathknell, but all that she could think about was that raven. It was too overt for it to just coincidentally be the only thing from the Void to watch over the lake.

Lafayette and Cletus kept their objective a secret, but days of nothing dragged on, and the two were talking about shifting focus when the raven was nowhere to be found. It was probably just some strange critter they took from its home realm, they told her, and it was now soaring freely on the mortal plane. Irresponsible if true, and out of their reach, regardless.

She was the only one who refused to sit still. She berated the others for being so placid, accusing them of giving up, but they reiterated that they were duty-bound men and worked on solving the mystery when they could. Cletus had become twice as busy, and Lafayette couldn't see most of the time, so she had to be their scout. The three of them were still a unit, and she was going to fill the role that only a ranger could play.

Zala watched the skies, convinced that the raven would show up. More days of scouring western Lordaeron, more nights of returning home with nothing to show for, except bags of nature’s resources to cover her tracks. She was getting increasingly disheartened.

Until one night, when she finally found it. The raven had chosen a branch high above her usual route, as if it was waiting for her. That was what she told herself, at least. She didn’t try to capture it. Although undead now, Zala was still an elf, and knew best to be careful with nature and its inhabitants. But in her mind, this was no ordinary bird. It must be smarter than just walking into her simple traps.

She wanted the raven to know that she was there for it, but she was running out of excuses to constantly leave the village, and couldn’t afford to lose her quarry. She tried speaking to it, addressed it as she would her mentor–minn’do–and while it didn’t respond, it didn’t fly off either. Every time she could head outside, she found the raven, watching her. She was allowed to get closer with time, sitting under the trees where it rested, but when it was offered her hand, it shied away. Zala respected its space. Frustrated as she was, she kept on trying. In her eyes, this was the furthest any of them had gotten.

When it was close enough, she noticed that the raven had indigo eyes, and she could sense the familiar presence of the Shadow on it. The clergy often used ravens as representative motifs, or they were manifested through their spellwork; Zala had conjured Shadow Ravens herself in the past, utilizing them for her practice.

The bird didn’t make as much as a single croak, but it stayed with her longer and longer. It must be a sign. Minn’do must be using them to catch Zala’s attention, and it worked. Her determination was showing progress!

More days passed. The ranger would regularly run through the woods around Deathknell, and the raven would follow. Zala smiled with all of her fangs on display when it trusted her enough to join her patrols. She dashed past the mine to the northwest and headed for the hills, using her catlike agility to swing herself up a tree that reached high above the valley. Choosing a sturdy branch, she sat with her back against the trunk and her legs swinging in the breeze. The raven landed a few steps further out.

They watched over Lordaeron together. This land had become her home, one that she chose herself, among people who spitefully prided themselves on being anomalies. The Forsaken were a strange people, known to be leery and macabre, but they were traits that she shared with them. She wasn’t comfortable with all of them–especially not the military–and Lordaeronian forests were measly compared to Kalimdor, but she had come to like the creepiness. The other undead elves she met here were more relatable than any living.

Zala was unlucky in life and never found kinship with other Kaldorei. Many tearful days she left behind her, enraged over the injustice of being born under a roof where you had to be loud to be seen. She was made to worship a goddess that picked favorites even among her favored people, and Zala was not one of those privileged few.

She knew that she wasn’t easy to love. Her limited control had her berated, ignored or thrown out, until she couldn’t take it anymore and stopped begging for scraps of approval. At times, she didn’t even mean to act out, feeling as if she was piloting a body that defied her will, and her living family chose their deity above their difficult daughter. Love, as she knew it, was conditional. When she became undead during the Fourth War, little of value was lost, as no one would be missing her.

All of this, she had confided in Mother Lucretia, and with the matron’s guidance, the elf found comfort in a different kind of darkness. There was no conditional love from the Shadow of the Void; it wasn’t a prejudiced deity. It just was. Endless, chaotic, unforgiving. Anyone could behold the maddening abyss, but you had to work on your resilience against its whispers to tap into it. Zala often struggled, but she had a patient mentor; and at last, she had something to work for. Someone to make proud.

All of this, she retold for the attentive raven. Every time she reminisced on her life, the pain was becoming less difficult to deal with, as she now had a family who accepted her flaws. Despite their promises, however, she was worried that their patience would inevitably run out.

Confessing her woes brought a lump to her throat. She was robbed of her minn’do‘s guidance, and she was drained from trying so hard all the time. Practicing the Forgotten Shadow’s second tenet, Tenacity, was exhausting when she feared disappointment wherever she went. She cursed under her breath and descended the tree. She had to return to the clergy with another empty report, and while each failure hurt, she was going to force herself to keep trying. Minn’do would have encouraged her to keep trying.

Zala jumped when the raven flapped down right next to her. She offered her arm, and the bird landed face to face with her.

Indigo eyes met her red. This was the first time that they had come in direct contact. It leaned forward and inclined its head. Zala felt compelled to do the same, and the raven closed the distance by connecting its forehead with hers.

Then, she heard it. It was quiet and weaker than she knew, but it was unmistakable. Inside her mind, the Shadow reciprocated her tenacity, and returned to her the voice that she had been chasing day and night.

“Thank you, Sister.”

[wildissylupus]

I want to share what the dynamics of my BG3 party with my character, since I've nearly finished ACT 1. I will probably do this at the end of every act cause I am so excited to see how all these dynamics develop.

(Slight Spoilers for BG3 ACT 1)

Medea - My Durge character, often goes with the diplomatic approach, she's charismatic and hides her urges well (except with Alfira but everyone thinks it the tadpole). I'll probably make a separate post going into detail, this is more just to give context

Shadowheart - Second person Medea met, saved her from the Nautiloid, they both have an insane amount of trust in each other. Romance is also blooming between them. With Medea as the leader of the party, you could say that Shadowheart is her second in command. Medea is also getting a lot of bad vibes from what Shadowheart says about Shaar but is trying to be open minded while trying to subtly convince her that maybe she should leave and that what she's going through with Shaar isn't good. They also bond over their shared memory problems.

Astarion - Second person Medea met after the crash, pulled a knife on her when she went to help him, no blood was spilt though. After that they basically started bickering like siblings, Medea being the responsible one, Astarion being the bad influence, both of them chaotic. Also in my mind, since Medea is also an elf and has the same sleep schedule as Astarion, she was suspicious of him sneaking off at night. Though she didn't think he was a vampire, speaking of which, she will never not make fun of Astarion for trying to bit her even though she is literally the one other person who traces, meaning she was the worst person to bite from if he didn't want to get caught. Basically they act like siblings, also Medea has only heard the basics of who Cazador is and already wants to kill him.

Gale - Third person to join the party and the person Medea has the highest approval rating with. When she found out about Gale's condition she instantly sought out magical items that he could use, she was also very stunned when she found out about him a Mystra. Medea was never the studious type, even without a majority of her memories she knows she has a distaste for casting the magic wizards cast, however, casting that magic with Gale is different. She genuinely enjoyed it, and something tells her that he's the best teacher she's ever had. Honestly, even though this is act 1, I didn't expect Gale and Medea to become so close or like each other so much.

Lae'zel - First person Medea met (cause that's how the game goes) and honestly when it comes to her urges, Lae'zel is the one she thinks will take her out if needed. She's even considering telling Lae'zel about the urges. They have a lot of respect for each other even if they disagree on sertain situations, and they probably want the tadpoles out of their head the same amount as at this point Medea thinks her urges could be influenced by the parasite, so she wants it out. Honestly compared to the others there isn't much to say, mostly because I play in character, which means I choose which characters join me based on how close my character is to them or how important they are to the mission lore wise. Their dynamic will probably change in act 2 though.

Wyll - Medea and Wyll have had a slow burn to their friendship, though there is trust between them, they haven't known each other long enough to form a distinct bond (though I am tempted to get them a sibling bond because of what Wyll said after she said they will get his dad back). However, Medea does feel guilty about Wyll's dad being captured, feeling as though she could have done something. It's been added to her ever growing mountain of guilt (at this point she's dealing with the urges, she's killed Alfira, and she's killed Mayrina's brothers), she's also determined to help Wyll get his father back. She has also made it her goal to see Wyll dance.

Karlach - Her and Medea have not interacted much (that will change in Act 2), but so far I think Karlach is on the fence on whether to trust my character or not, because she says a lot of fucked up shit she doesn't mean in order to manipulate her enemies and Karlach tends to take it at face value so she obviously disproves of what Medea is saying. I like to think the displeasure shows on her face and every time Medea looks back at Karlach and gives a look of "I'm not actually going to do it".

Halsin - Like Karlach they haven't interacted that much but that will change in Act 2. As for now though they like each other and Medea wants to get to know him more.

And that's it for now!! I'm really excited to see how the game progresses and how these dynamics develop.