#off to the astral circle you go

[katkalis-the-horror-fanartist]

yog i want u please 1 chance

You were unsure what was going through his head before you spoke. Considering you had encountered him on a dark path, there was no telling what he had planned for you. Either way, the vampire glares at you for a moment, before his gaze softens and his previously furrowed eyebrows raise up.

"If you are truly so devoted to me, so soon, I would in fact enjoy your company..."

He holds his pale hand out to you, and when you softly grasp it, his flesh is cool to the touch. Even moreso considering how warm your own hands were with you being so flustered at his presence.

"Come with me, human."

He begins guiding you along with him, keeping pace with you whether you sped up or slowed down. Although, while you were in his presence, you felt as if something was watching you from the distance. Trees, buildings...Something moved among them.

Yog suddenly stopped in place, but kept your hand firmly entrapped in his. Then, small, white glowing eyes penetrate through the darkness in front of you both. You can barely see the silhouette of 15 spikes on the figure's head.

[fukashiin]

attractive things they do #2 !

— w. housewardens

⤷ "yuutapdatass tweeted: malleus pls stop dming me to rub our feet together as a nightly custom"

cw: hinted suggestive content for malleus, vil and leona. passive reader! enjoy ♡

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

shushing others so you can focus.

pens and textbooks alike cluster along your designated study table, accompanied by the riddle rosehearts as his knee brushes against yours wordlessly. he's utilising this free period, toiling out and about to aid you in your, regretfully, pointless revision. finals season starts to get rigid around this time, so he's more than content to lend a hand if you're willing to put in the effort. except—the students abounded at the table diagonal to yours start getting chattier than what's socially allowed in the library, so riddle calls them out without a pain. one "they're trying to focus." and their mouths are zipped. he turns back to you, unperturbed, and smiles. "shall we continue?"

SO patient with you it makes you cry.

riddle may be a bomb of ire waiting to burst at any given moment, but you believe that his patience shouldn't go uncredited. a tireless awardee, a distinguished laureate, going sleepy in your eyes, although he's wrestling to win over the urge just so you can get the hand of the concept he's cramming into your head last-minute. the scent of white petunias could really alleviate his fatigue, and you make a promise to bring over a few of those in favour for his devoutness to your study sessions. for the time being, he'll make sure you pass, for him, and for yourself.

vows that he'll outdo your stupid ex in every way.

whatever your ex did wrong, riddle will do better. that's just in his nature. he swears with each and every fibre of his body, nuzzling his head in the dip of your shoulder, that he'll love you in ways that your morose ex never bothered to think about. a muttered pledge that couldn't compare to the pious burn that lit in his eyes, like a withstanding candle refusing to go out. his confessions are firm, where he'll be the betterment that you wished for on an astral night, so please, don't put him in your doubt.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

pressing you against the nearest wall he spots to kiss you.

there are numerous attributes to this man that renders you hopelessly drunk in love. one of them is his maddening habit of pressing you flushed against the nearest surface in his sight, and the most poorly lit areas when you're in stranded in a public space to guise the both of you. he executes this with the softest hint of care, ensuring that the landing wasn't too harsh, and advancing when given the green light. wispy strands of hair stroke your skin like a feather, as fine lips come crashing down to yours in a heartbeat, in paradise. he gives you a sheer once-over, bringing up the following statement: "grab onto my vest if you need to."

breathes the confidence into you.

downgrading oneself may be in his dictionary, but it won't appear in yours. he'll clasp any opportunity to brandish his infamous eye-roll to those whose comments about you stray a bit too loud. you may be a bit thrown off by the audacity and aimlessly think about the ways of which you could live up to his—your standards. you take a bit to reorient yourself when you hear your name being called out, sluggish hands circling your waist, as you're unable to finish your thought about how beautiful he is until he asks whether you're actually sparing a single thought for those nobodies. he casually states that you're leagues better than them, whether you think so or not, and won't mind giving you a physical demonstration if you can't bring yourself to accept it yet, because he knows it.

just knows what you want without you having to tell him.

eyeing an accoutrement that could accent your main outfit? longing for a new stand-alone book after the last one you buried yourself in was a letdown? leona has the prices covered. despite your incessant denial, that you don't actually need those, he tells you that a little spending wouldn't hurt. he doesn't need verbal expression to know what'll satisfy you, the flit of your gaze is the only opening he requires. you're embarrassed by how easily you're read, but the hearty smile that blooms on your face will be all the excuses leona needs to keep spoiling you.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

drapes his coat over your legs if you're cold.

sometimes, you swear that he has the whole "affection capability" of a wooden plank. his actions aren't entirely faultless, nor was there not a single second of err in the delivery of his speeches, but he does haul around that handy coat solely for moments like these. perched wordlessly on top of mostro lounge's signature high stools, azul rebukes your rash behaviour after spurting out in the rain without an umbrella, clothes weatherworn and all—not to mention the lounge's benevolent addition of its AC. the chills rack your body from head to toe, not noticing that a fuzzy warmth starts to blanket your legs, as azul pats it down creaseless. he says that you can pay him in return at a later date, your declining health is his utmost priority at the moment.

sets you straight when you need it.

his prized coin collection seems to blur boorishly, bleeding into the soft jazz playing in the back. the thirsting need to word-vomit all over the place, thanks to the hours of ennui you've been experiencing ever since you've trudged yourself back to azul's room, threatens to tip over the edge. he notes your irresolute responses to his (nearly) bombarding questions while he's planted over at his desk, and takes the initiative to make you open up to him. he wants you to look at him, commit his words to memory, as he caresses your shoulder under the twinkling lavender glow of his night lamp with a sure look in his eyes, guaranteeing that you're going to do fine.

has a secret album dedicated to pictures of you in his gallery.

azul tries to get accustomed to the revolutionising tricks of technology just for you. fine, if he has to pass through every single hyperlink and learn unfamiliar terms, that's on him. other than owning a booming magicam account promoting #mostrolounge, he saves a single, peculiar file in his gallery that hoards all the pictures he's taken of you when you're together, on a date or not. he can't tell if your lovely visage is the sole cause to the rapid change of pace in his heart when he's dealing with a mounting workload, but if you ever drag yourself down after taking a quick glance at them, he'll bring you right back up.

KALIM-AL-ASIM

clears the hair out of your face when its windy.

you may be a tad bit hesitant to ride the magic carpet every once in a while, but kalim's sparkling serendipity puts your heart at ease. he takes you for a midnight rendezvous, golden embroidery flashing and sheening at every twist and turn you direct with the tassels with aplomb—as he compliments. his headpieces jangle merrily like a thousand bells in the breeze, up until he notices your sight being blocked by the troublesome hair whirling all over the place. chuckle as he may, he shifts it to the side of your face with a deft hand, tracing the last strands down to your chin. "there. seeing better now?"

interlaces your hand with his in your sleep. (the physical touch GOAT)

wrinkled bedsheets rustle under the weight of your movements, coarse, and even a bit sullen as the morning ooze of sunlight drenches through your curtains, as if it prohibits you to sleep in the entire day. kalim's newfound ailment forces the two of you to be separated indefinitely, so colour yourself surprised when you feel the taut clutch of your hand in another, holding onto the remaining pieces of you that he needily ached for all night. sun-kissed fingers wove between yours like silken ribbons, his eyes pleading for you to stay, as a minute—a moment without you in his world—would be infallible torture.

purchases a piece of the moon for you.

you know those moneyed, wealthy fans who purchase a piece of the moon for their favourite idol? kalim gets influenced, and is driven by his conviction that you deserve something more extravagant than rowdy parades or a hallowed mansion (regardless of how many he wishes to buy). he takes it upon himself to surf across Lunar Registry, registering your full name and gifting its stated amount for approximately...5000 sq ft of land of the celestial body that hung high in the sky, radiating its extraterrestrial luminance on your nights of sobriety. you chide him for such an impulsive act in return, but soften up when he states, upright, that he would gift you all the stars in space if he could.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

brings you to touch him himself.

no use if you're cowardly in the bold language of physical touch, vil will simply make you oblige into feeling him, whether its physically or through minds. oftentimes you find yourself hastily straddled on his lap, him decked in his satin-sewn pajamas, as you prod and poke his hands nervously while scrutinizing every area of skin that screamed of his unyielding years of care. there's a teasing lilt that lurks behind his voice, questioning if you're seriously taking your time trying to figure him out where you're aware that he's less than patient. he seizes your hand in his grip, and leads them to his chest—shamelessly. if he needs to remind you of who you're with every day, he'll be more than committed to reel you closer to his body.

demands full eye contact.

tsking and huffing is, an unsurprisingly normal habit for him to adapt. and this includes moments of when you're shying away from him, heaving under your tense breath about how unfairly attractive he is. slick in his latest outfit tailored specifically according to his calibrated measurements. high stilettos bests your height, and he almost seems disappointed in the lack of praise he's receiving (although he knows exactly why). you feel a manicured finger tilt your chin upwards, as your teetering praises come to an abrupt halt. he smiles, demanding you to look him in the eyes throughout every second you're worshipping him.

tells you to ready yourself before he showers you in his love.

vil wants you to experience each and every slide of his nails against your feverish skin, whispering pure promises and cherishing you, affirming that you're worth much more to him than a million grand. if you ever throw yourself below the bar lower than necessary, he waves your deplorable behaviour away, and asks if you truly believe that you're tumbling down that route of thinking when you're with him. vying arms enclose your figure like a velvet blanket, surrendering your chapped lips a centimetre away from his, as his refined scent tickles your nose until he advises you to prepare yourself to revel in his untiring devotion. all your worthwhile priorities were put on hold until further notice.

IDIA SHROUD

leaning back in his chair after finishing a game.

you arose from your sleep, previously dozing off while perusing written tales of the past propped up on idia's bed. the culprit of your awakening is off cheering in the same vicinity after speed running a round and emerging victorious, unmanned, of the latest version of a first-person shooter game he recently installed on his computer. he starts to recline in his chair as it creaks off his weight, arms slackened behind his head and his sweater gliding off of his stomach, exposing the barest bit of delicate skin that indulges you to run your hands across. he emits the heaviest of sighs while he runs a sore hand through his hair, as the disorientation of your mind starts to scatter all over the place.

"i thought it'd cost more."

Idia Shroud will not have you get scammed by lowly, needling scammers surfacing online websites like newborn piranhas. his head begins to split when you spout about the official item being too pricey and that you won't be able to milk a single penny out of your derelict dorm, so he insists that he pays for the item for you himself. you send him a link of the mentioned item, and he felt like he was dragging himself through wet cement throughout the whole mire. he remains indifferent to the price overall, and goes "oh? i thought it'd cost more." with a brazen smirk etched on his face that it almost gave you a whiplash.

discreetly orders things to your front door.

quivering lips settle atop of your shoulder for the last time before he sends you back from his room after the intimate amour that had you two wondrously occupied for the entire day. you pilfer a single gummy worm from his desk, and cloak yourself further into his jacket that intoxicates every one of your senses as you streel into the night air that reeked of petrichor. your steps begin to feel like bricks, whilst your eyes were betraying your wish to stay alert. as you approach the front door welcoming you to your dorm, you gauge the sight of a small box placed on the carpet with a small note plastered on it that follows the lines of "for you, pretty thing."

MALLEUS DRACONIA

cushioning your head with his hand.

bony fingers sail through the pleasance of your hair, twirling each and every tendril that it meets and bringing them to his defined, pillowy lips. amusement cracks through the ominosity that sits in his eyes, shielded by his bangs as he beams a smile your way before grasping your shoulders in a split second. he pushes you down onto the mattress with a thud, cushioning your head with a single hand, and tells you to save your yelps and complaints before he endows you with the ability to sing for him all night. he reassures you that he does in fact, know how to secure the deadbolt on the door.

doesn't bother with any potential contenders whatsoever.

malleus but it's "okay, and?" personified. yes, he's heard of the towering sovereign in the neighbouring country who was recently appointed. yes, he's heard of the lucrative salesman nearby situated in town whose attention you captured after visiting his booth. yes, he's heard of Leona Kingscholar. but he could not give Two (2) flying tamagotchis about whoever has been swaying your way, tossing cheap and low-grade courtship in an attempt to earn your affection. he notes that he does have some cheesy pick-up lines of his own to use, but unlike the others, he knows you inside and out. he has no use for the mainstream ways of love and is eager to please you to his own liking, further revealing the unparalleled reverence he maintains for you and only you.

brushes his fingers over your collarbone.

once you step across the threshold of his bathroom, adorned in his nightwear, malleus can't help but dim the lights with the flick of his finger after catching the sight of your collarbone that peaks out from underneath. he's in front of you the moment you blink, and hums in response to your addled self. he brings his ice-tipped fingers to your neck, padding it with caution, and sliding them down to the V-shaped collar that hides the rest of your warmth. stark fingers ghost over the structure of your collarbone, and malleus asks whether you think the gibbous moon will be kind enough as to not set so early.

[eyebagshawty]

Hello! May I request Lae’zel, Karlach, and whoever else you want to write being washed by the reader. I find the idea of bathing and taking care of someone to be really sweet.

Headcanons + Blurbs for Being Taken Care of/Washed by Tav

A/N: Hello! Sorry for just getting around to requests and other things now, the end of the semester got pretty crazy (at least I passed everything !) and now I’m finally able to focus and get out of this rut. Thank you for your patience and I hope you like it!

Characters: Lae’zel, Karlach, Shadowheart, Wyll, Gale, Astarion, Halsin

Part 2

Lae’zel

• When you first offer to wash up with Lae’zel she’s mostly confused and kind of annoyed - there’s already a tadpole in her head, and that’s enough lack of privacy.

• “Chk. At my crèche these things are normal. However, you istiks insist on attaching emotional meaning to such things… no.”

• However the more she thinks about it… you two have shared a bed more than once. She respects you more than the others; when she tells you to speak she also makes sure you know she will listen. She supposes that maybe connection wouldn’t be so bad with you of all people.

• She just walks up to your tent, grabs your hand, and says “Fine.”

You meet her at the waterfront and- is she nervous? Her gaze wavers between you and the night sky, feet firmly planted into the ground and arms across her armored chest. You get most of your armor off, but that last clasp just has to give you trouble. “Lae’zel, could you help me out with this?” It’s silent for a tension filled moment, and you’re about to ask again.

“Chk.” She walks over and with ease undoes the clasp. She’s back to feet firmly planted and arms crossed, only looking at the sky. You unfurl your hair from its practical braid and keep your eyes on her. “I wish I could show you the Tears.” Your eyes widen when you think about the first night she invited you to her bunk, how hard getting used to this unusual plane must be for her. You place your hand on her shoulder and she tenses, but relaxes after she’s brought back to the moment.

“I wish I could see them.” You whisper to her. You ‘help’ her out of her armor (she’s just letting you at this point, she could’ve been out of it in 30 seconds flat) and you both hiss as you enter the cold water. After a soft and asking touch, she allows you to undo her hair and wash it. You gather her hair gently into your hands and have her lean back to the water. As she does, you can see that she clearly hasn’t been this vulnerable in maybe ever. You give a soothing stroke to her scalp and she hums. As you lather the looted soap into her hair and scratch your nails lightly, you hear her sniffle.

“Lae’zel… are you alright?” You stop your ministrations but keep a hand cupped at the back of her neck.

“My-my queen is false. I will never ascend. Tsk’va, I’m an enemy to my kin. I don’t want to be on this plane anymore�� I miss the astral. I must fight but I do not know how to keep going.” She quickly wipes her tears and looks at you. “Speak, source of my bruises. I will always listen.”

With her hair looking clean, you slowly move the bar between her shoulder blades and move it in soothing circles. You kiss her temple. “My love, this situation is quite a mess. Tadpoles in our heads, endless injuries, and I cannot imagine what this world must be like for someone who has never been in it. We will get through this. I’m here. I’m yours.” With that she shows an inkling of a smile as she stares into the water in thought. You continue to bathe her with soft kisses in between every swipe of soap along with words of reassurance. You are hers, the source of her bruises.

Karlach

•Once Karlach is able to touch people again, she is ecstatic to wash up with you. She’s barely been able to keep her hands off of you since, so when you offer she squeals.

• “Of fucking course soldier! Who knows, we might even be able to turn that river into a hot spring.” Her eyebrows waggle and your face goes beet red.

• When you meet her she definitely cannonballs into the water and complains when it’s shallow

• “Aw hells, that’s gonna be a kink to work out in the morning.”

• You guys don’t bathe for a good 15 minutes, she’s just kissing you and rubbing your sides and it’s so SWEET

She breaks away from the kiss and wades further into the water. You grab the soap from the grass and follow after, settling your arms around her neck and wrapping your legs around her waist. Her fingers come up to pinch your nose and she flops backwards into the water, leaving both of you sopping wet when she comes back up. “Gods Karlach you’re gonna kill me,” you sputter as you cough out the bit of water that got in your mouth. She pats your back and lets out a full bellied laugh.

“That’s right soldier get it all out,” she grins. You shoot her a playful glare. When your collective giggles finally die down, you bring the bar of soap up to her hair and begin lathering and spreading it with your fingers. Her eyes close with a serene smile. You make sure to get the area around her horns, and she kisses your cheeks as you take care of them. “You know… after Gortash. After… Avernus. Nobody has taken care of me like this in so long. So fucking long.” She sighs as you bring the bar to her neck and chest, taking away the near pints of blood the party had spilled earlier.

“I’ll make sure it never is that way again. I love you, and no matter what happens you deserve to be free from all of this.” You meet her gaze as the bar moves to her shoulders, and you see fear.

“Tav… my heart.” She lets out a choked sob and a tear streams down her cheek that you immediately wipe away. “I finally have you after so godsdamn long, and I don’t want to lose what’s most important. Not again. I’m just so scared.” She breaks down into tears and her skin heats up warmly under your skin. You crush her into your chest and she buries her face into your neck, where you rub soothing circles into her scalp along with kisses.

“You won’t lose me. Whether it be in Baldurs Gate or Avernus, I’ll be here.” She lifts her head and you kiss her nose, where a little flame sparks and then snuffs out. She lets out a soft chuckle as her mood cools. “I promise to you we’re gonna kill that pathetic little fucker and anyone who helped him.” Her lips meet yours and you kiss back with eager passion. As you pull away you go back to soothingly rubbing the bar across the planes of her back.

“Wait- didn’t you grab this soap off a dead guy?! GROSS soldier!”

Shadowheart

•She immediately says no

•Not because she doesn’t trust you, she just can’t swim and finds it a bit embarrassing for her powerful presence

•After you finally convince her it’ll only be where she can stand, she agrees.

• “A bottle of wine, my lover, and a nice grassy beach? It’ll do,” she gives a sarcastic but playful smile.

•You two get plastered on Chultan Fireswill before you hop in

After one last swig from the bottle Shadowheart takes your hand and leads you into the water. You stop at around three feet deep and get to your knees. Her braid whips around her shoulder as she serenely begins to scrub away blood with the soap bar. “I love this silver color so much. It illuminates you as some would say,” you utter softly, and she chuckles. She slowly takes her hair out of the braid’s confines and your jaw drops at how long and pretty it is as it flows down her back. You look pointedly to the bar of soap. “May I?”

She squints at you in playful suspicion then smiles. “You may.” You lather the soap into her hair and she lays her head back into your chest as you scratch lovingly at her scalp. She brings her hand up to your cheek behind her and whispers, “The moon looks beautiful tonight.” As soon as the words leave her lips the wound in her hand opens. She hisses and sits back up. As she looks back to you, her gaze looks broken. “After everything I’ve been through with the dark lady, I don’t think this will ever go away.”

You inch your hand closer to hers, placing your pinkies over each other. “It’s horrible… what she did to you.” She grins bitterly but moves to interlace your fingers, rubbing the back of your hand with her thumb.

“I just wish I could remember any of that horrible stuff. I want to be angry. But mostly I’m only numb. She was… she was everything to me. And although it is horrible yes, it’s all so new. Being away from her.”

She nods in confirmation as you move the bar of soap to her chest, the motions soothing her and making her eyes soften as she watches you. “I understand,” you whisper as you lean up to kiss the shell of her pointed ear. That’s all that needs to be said, Shadowheart thinks to herself. You’ve become more than her greatest companion in her eyes, she trusts you’ll be there through thick and thin. “We’ll just have to make new memories,” you smile, and as you finish rubbing the soap across her body you throw it back to the grass, pulling her into a loving kiss as she wraps her arms around your neck.

Wyll

•When you offer to wash up with Wyll a MASSIVE blush runs across his cheeks

• “Are you sure? ImsurethehornsfreakyououtandtheresbumpsinotherstrangeplacesIdontwantyou-�� he basically starts talking at a mile a minute about how it might be awkward for you

• “Wyll honey, I can just meet you there while you’re already in if that’s more comfortable for you” and you give him a sweet smile and his face goes red AGAIN

By the time you get to the waterfront, you see Wyll propped against a rock, the water resting at waist level with his arms propping him up. You throw him a shy smile. He has a sly grin and nods your way, beckoning you towards him. You twirl your finger and mouth, “Turn around!” He lets out a silent chuckle and turns his head towards the mountains beyond the lake.

You slide out of your evening clothes and grab the soap bar laying on top of your towel. As you wade further into the water you let out a shriek — it wasn’t winter right? Wyll turns around and laughs at the sight; you’re rubbing your arms with chattering teeth. “It is quite frigid tonight, huh? I think I’ve got a cantrip in me for a special someone.”

You look around, bemused, as to how spells could possibly help you out here. Wyll shoots a fireball into the depths of the water, your skin instantly warming up. However, it doesn’t last long as the lake cools back down to freezing. You swim at the speed of light over to Wyll and wrap your arms around his neck. “Sorry, I just need something. By the nine hells you think a blizzard would be rolling through,” you laugh. When you’ve warmed up enough, you take the bar of soap and gingerly begin to wash and lather his hair and horns, kissing the scars across his face.

Wyll looks down at you, surprise slathered across his face as you finish up with his head and move to his broad shoulders, kissing everything infernal you can find. “Tav…you like this?” He brings up a hand to your cheek as you continue your ministrations. You cup water in your hands and gently rinse away the soap on his chest.

“Of course I do, Mizora could make you look fully cambion and I would still have the strongest of feelings for you. You’ll always be my dashing, strong, Blade of Frontiers,” you peck his neck with each last word, and he laughs, kissing your forehead with a soft cherishing smile.

Gale

• When you offer to Gale, he gives you the most devious look you’ve ever seen

• He hasn’t been around others for so long till now, much less bathing with anyone, and he’s grown pretty strong feelings for you so he love love loves this idea

• “My dear Tav I would love to! You know how I enjoy your body after a battle, all the sweat covering your skin and the flush of your cheeks”

• He’s not your quietest companion so everybody does hear this and everybody does let out an exasperated groan

• Your face flushes even further than when you asked him and you squeak out an okay and run to your tent

When you meet up with Gale at the waterfront, his tunic is already off, showing his surprisingly wonderful muscles. He kisses you upon greeting, and helps you out of your evening clothes with a soft caress here and there on every part of your body. You grab your soap and lead him into the water, the water being just warm enough for your plans.

He gathers you into his lap, his cheeks a light red as he grins up at you. You lather the soap and scrub it into his hair, listening to his groans and praises as you work. You kiss his cheeks as you move to his chest, and he finally opens his eyes again, looking up at you with those big round puppy eyes.

“This is surprisingly wonderful. I remember doing things like this for her, running water through her hair and lathering the finest oils onto her skin, but she never once did anything for me.” You stop your work, looking up to his eyes with an expression of shock and sadness. His eyes bore just as strongly into yours, and his thumbs rub circles into your hips.

“Gale… you are worthy of being loved. What she did to you wasn’t right — it never was, even from the beginning if I’m getting my facts straight. She isolated and took from you. I never want you to feel like that with me.” You kiss his cheeks and his hairline, and his lips follow yours, chasing to press them together.

They finally do, and his kiss is filled with eager passion, pouring every thought he’s had about you into you. When you pull away he lets out a soft whine, bringing his hand to your neck. “I’m in love with you, darling. And I know and trust that you feel the same, any need of the tadpole be damned.” You smile and begin to continue rubbing the soap into his stomach, but he stops you. He brings his lips to yours once more, and he rolls you over onto your back in the water, letting you prove how loved he is.

Astarion

• His eyes go soft and round when you ask him

• “Really?? Little old me??” Even after the graveyard and all your reassurances, he’s still moving towards actual coupley things

• “You’ve never wanted a luxurious meal and bath together my love?” You take his hand stroke his fingers with care

• If he could blush he would, but he just sputters with the goblet of wine he has

• He collects himself back into charming mode, “Well then, I thought you’d never ask. Come find me when you’re ready.” He kisses your cheeks and literally just walks off into the woods, leaving you standing at the entrance to your shared tent looking absolutely befuddled

When you find him at the hot spring the camp had discovered last night, he’s already in the water with his eyes closed angling his head towards the night sky. His ears twitch as he hears you begin to take off your evening clothes, and his eyes open to look at you with a rakish smile. “Why hello, my treasure. The water feels amazing.” You smile, grab your soap and head in. Immediately you groan with relief, the hot water soothing the aches from your nasty fight with some undead earlier.

Astarion moves closer to you, taking the most warmth he can get. You bring your arms around his neck and just stay there for a minute. He hugs you back, burying his face into the crook in your shoulder. You fingers lightly stroke against his raised scars in a loving motion, and after his breath hitches he melts into your touch, practically purring as you lavish him with affection. When you pull away his loss of heat is devastating. However, he calms down when you begin to wash his hair, scratching at his scalp and running the hot water over his curls.

“I don’t think I’ve ever let anyone touch my hair like this,” he mumbles. You kiss his cheek and move the bar to his chest and shoulders, working out any aches and pains he might have.

“Well, now you have me my love,” you whisper, kissing the tip of his ear.

“I just can’t believe that after everything you want to stay. The sky is beautiful tonight, but it is all I will ever know once this mindflayer business is said and done with.” His words are bitter, almost as if he is angry with himself.

“It is all we will know my love. And I’m actually quite the night owl. As much as I love our ragtag group, I’m quite introverted around most of society. Everything is fine,” you kiss his bite marks, the hollows of his cheeks, and finally his lips. He kisses you back fervently, pouring care he was never able to show for anyone else previously. You pull away and finish gently washing the rest of his body in silence. As you prop your neck to the side for him, he looks at you with an expression akin to great offense.

“Darling! I thought you knew me well enough to know the bath is never over after only soap.” He waves his hand over to the small crate of oils he’d brought to the spring. “Now, I’m feeling lavender tonight. How about you my love?”

You give him a beaming smile, wading out of the spring to retrieve it. “Sounds wonderful, my heart.”

Halsin

• You don’t even really have to ask him, he’s just joined you most of the time to protect you

• He doesn’t like you venturing out in to the woods by yourself, because Silvanus help him a lot of people are after you guys

• “Of course my heart — Scratch is licking at his paw a bit so I need to inspect that, but I will join you in just a couple of minutes.”

• With an encouraging woof from Scratch, you caress his shoulder and go to collect your things

You’ve stuffed all the stuff needed for the bath into two large bags, your arms making you crouch downward with the weight. As Halsin walks to meet you he sees this, chuckles, and wild shapes into his bear form. He takes the bag handles into his mouth and nudges your leg with his snout. You pet his head and hop onto his back, him letting you ride on it as you both make your way to the water.

On arrival, you hop off and he drops the items into the grass. As his bear form is used most in combat, you grab out a bottle of soap you’d nicked off of that crazy dog handler in Rivington. You drizzle it all over his fur and gather some of the river water into a bucket. You begin scrubbing the soap into his fur, and he lets out cute little groans and growls. When you finish you dump the bucket of water onto him, and he lets out a noise of surprise. He turns back into regular Halsin, his hair soaked down against his head with playful exasperation.

“My heart, you did not need to release the full power of a waterfall onto me I assure you.” You laugh and beckon him into the water. He wades in and smothers you with kisses.

“Halsin please! I need to breathe!” You giggle, pushing at his chest. He finally settles down, pulling you into his lap.

“Thank you for helping me with the shadow curse. Thaniel he… he needed us. He needed you.” He settles into a somber smile, nuzzling his nose against your temple.

You trace your fingers across his chest, leaving kisses that follow. “I knew the lands needed our help, and I’m glad he’s free from the curse. All we have left is this elder brain, and we can go back to the grove and live in peace.”

He tilts your chin up with his hand, and looks tenderly into your eyes. “I would be blessed by Silvanus to spend my thousands of years with you.” He crashes his lips into yours, one of many you’ll share over the passage of time.

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ NAPPING WITH THEM.

fandom. honkai star rail

pairings. blade, dan heng, gepard, jing yuan, welt x gn!reader

content warnings. sfw, sleeping/napping with them, sharing one bed, written in lowercase, not edited/proofread

word count. 0.8k

notes. i literally word-vomited this after my first final exam, please don't expect too much ;-;

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ blade. 

blade isn’t a napper, too busy with his work and often too energized to even sleep properly at night. but when he does, it’s only because you ask him to join you. and even then, when you fall asleep in minutes, he lays wide awake while you sleep peacefully in his arms. he doesn’t even bother with trying to sleep, simply closing his eyes, and enjoying the peace he has when he’s with you.

it has only happened a few times, where he fell asleep, and you had to wake him. he doesn’t like the feeling, not quite asleep but also not quite awake. it dulls his senses, something he hates, yet he doesn’t complain. blade could never complain or refuse to join you during your naps, not when you snuggle up to him with a small smile, happy to be close to him.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ dan heng. 

dan heng is a chronic napper. With his irregular sleep schedule, he has to catch up on sleep, or else he can’t properly function. so, it’s no surprise that he can fall asleep the moment his head hits the pillow, curling together while the astral express continues to drift across the stars. sometimes he drags you with him, seeing those dreary, dark circles under your eyes and decides that both of you need some rest.

even when he’s with you, he curls together, this time around you, as if he’s a dragon hoarding his treasure. it keeps you warm and assures him you’re safe, bodies hidden behind that flimsy blanket of his. not that it’s needed, when his room is properly heated and he himself always runs warmer than most... and then you sleep, duration varying, depending on the amount of sleep you try to catch up on or if one of you is needed. but it already happened that the two of you slept a whole afternoon away and when you woke up, you just stayed in bed, simply because bedtime was in a few hours anyways.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ gepard.

despite being busy with being a captain of the silvermane guards, gepard often takes naps. not those long afternoon naps, where he sleeps for hours, oh no— the longest time he ever napped were 45 minutes on the dot, always waking up the moment his alarm rings. you on the other hand enjoy longer naps and always grumble when he leaves the warm bed.

but it’s enough for you, when you fall asleep with him, sharing warmth beneath the thick blanket. his soft snores are a lullaby to you and help to calm your mind, drifting off to a well-deserved sleep. and when he tangles your hold from him to go back to work, he always kisses your cheek to soothe your complains. he would return into your waiting arms, he always does.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ jing yuan.

taking an afternoon nap with the general is rare. but when it happens, you don’t nap alone. the purrs of his giant white pet lion and chirps of his little songbirds lull you into sleep. snuggled close to jing yuan, your head is on his chest, while his arms are wrapped around you. napping with him is a cherished comfort, the tender closeness making you blush, but you don’t deny your enjoyment of it. you know he enjoys it too, always falling asleep with a soft smile on his lips.

and when you wake up, hair tousled and eyes bleary, you can’t believe that this man is yours. yours to love, to hold and cherish. he looks pretty like this, guards down and body pliant, undeniably pretty. moments like this are rare, even rarer than these naps together, so you hold them close to your heart, making them a treasured memory.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ welt. 

welt frequently naps. often for one or two hours, to catch up on the sleep he lacks. you never join him to fall asleep with him, since he never tells you that he wishes to nap. but you know he likes to wake up with you in his bed, snuggled close together and quietly snoring your exhaustion away. sometimes you miss his naps, often busy with your own work, but often you join him, slip beneath the covers and warm your cold limbs up.

and when he wakes, he never leaves the bed immediately. instead, he watches your relaxed face, listens to the soft breathes leaving you, letting himself drift and simply enjoy the moment. sometimes he falls asleep again, sometimes he does not. it doesn’t matter to him, not when he can enjoy waking up next to you.

taglist. @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @auraxins , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @stellumi , @bladiekisser , @trailblazernet

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST? please send a non-anon ask to be added to the taglist. taglist can be general taglist (all fandoms and all works), fandom taglist (all works within the fandom), series (all works for specific series) or nsfw taglist (all nsfw works and all fandoms).

ARKHAM MAID 2023

[tumbleweed-run]

I have so many thoughts about Gale and sex... just so many. Especially when you stop and realize that it's unlikely that he and Mystra actually were in a bed for much of their intimate relationship. I think the reason he offers you the astral sea is because that's what he's used to, what he's currently most comfortable with.

But boy, does he give hints that he wants it down and dirty (literally) but first and foremost? The fact that he is a self-proclaimed munch enthusiast.

(nsfw below)

Gale is down to go down anywhere anytime? Oh you guys are stealing away for 10 minutes while the rest of your group does something else (and ABSOLUTELY knows what you two are doing)? Guess where Gale is?

That's right, between your thighs. No time for that? Yes there is.

He'll make time.

He'll make time to gently kiss your thighs even though you're pants are barely pulled down to your knees. He's got time for gentle nips and deeper ones that leave the tiniest bruises that will send little pangs of reminders every time your thighs brush together for the next few days.

He's nudging you open, first with his nose and then his tongue. Tasting, teasing. It doesn't matter that you've got places to be. You're going to be a mess once he's done. His beard is rubbing against your thighs, the friction not entirely pleasant, especially since you're still trapped by your pants. But you're not going to stop him because he's grabbed hold of your hips and lifted you just enough he can now fuck you gently with his tongue.

Slowly alternating between tracing maddening circles around your clit and pressing just the tip of his tongue into you. Over and over. Ignoring how your thighs tighten around his head and you're grabbing his hair. Trying to push him closer? Maybe away? You're not sure because you can barely breathe let alone think, little moans punctuating every exhale.

You're trying to be quiet.

But by now he's finally, finally, paying attention to your clit. Flicking it gently. You jump, the sensation like a lightning bolt, hands still gripped in his hair you pull him away. Not on purpose, now you definitely realize that's not what you wanted.

You consider for a second pressing him back against you but he holds his head still and stares up at you. Both asking if this is okay and tormenting you with the sudden nothingness. His eyes are so impossibly dark right now and you're not sure if its the lighting or lust.

Ever so slowly, holding your gaze for as long as possible he leans back in.

There's no teasing this time. His tongue, lips, and teeth find your clit with astonishing accuracy. Between you're high-pitched keening, barely able to keep yourself to a reasonable level, silence long forgotten, you can just barely make out his own moans. As if letting him feast on you like this is just as good for him as it is for you.

It's more than enough to push you over the edge, your release hitting you so violently you don't feel the back of your head collide with the wall when you throw it back. Your grip in his hair so tight, pressing him further into you... as if that were possible any more.

He's still there, between your thighs, as you come down off your high. Lazily licking, tasting everything. When he stands, he gently keeps a hand on your hips to steady you, the other awkwardly attempting to wrestle your pants back up. You realize his beard is still coated in you but he doesn't seem to mind. Doesn't even seem interest in his erection pressing obscenely against his pants.

There's a moment of soft giggles when he playfully grabs your tunic from beneath your armor and rubs it across his beard, wiping away the obvious remnants of your orgasm. But he makes no moves to clean it further, not just yet. And every time he comes within a few feet of anyone else you pray and hope they can't tell.

[moonselune]

Inbox is open, you say? Here's an idea based on something that just happened during my current run: how would the companions react to a Tav who failed the save to reject the Astral-Touched Tadpole and is distraught at how her body's been changed against her will, and scared that she's going to lose her sense of self and become something monstrous? When this happened to me, most of the companions had little if anything to say about it, but Lae'zel and Halsin acted like I'd eaten it willingly and were really mean to me about it. :(

They are so mean ! And for what ! I'm tryna save your asses !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Karlach’s heart broke the moment she saw you, trembling and wide-eyed, after the confrontation with the Astral-Touched Tadpole. The look in your eyes—a mix of shock, fear, and deep sorrow—was something that pierced her in a way that no blade or battle ever could.

You had tried everything to resist the tadpole’s corrupting influence, but it had finally sunk its claws into you, altering your body in ways you never asked for. You feared what came next: a loss of control, the destruction of your mind, and eventually becoming something unrecognizable, something monstrous.

Your body, once so familiar, now felt foreign. The changes weren't just visible; they pulled at your very essence, like you were slowly unraveling from the inside out. In that moment, it felt like everything was slipping away.

And Karlach… Karlach had been there through thick and thin, always smiling, always strong. But when she saw you like this, her heart ached in ways she hadn’t expected. This wasn’t a battle she could fight for you, and that helplessness gnawed at her. Still, she knew exactly what to do.

She crossed the camp swiftly, her warm, comforting presence surrounding you before she even spoke.

“Hey… hey, it’s okay,” she murmured, sitting beside you and wrapping her arms around your shaking form. Her voice, usually loud and boisterous, softened to a tone meant only for you. “You’re safe. You’re still here with me.”

You clung to her, burying your face in her chest. Her heartbeat was strong and steady, the one thing that felt real when everything else seemed to be slipping away. But despite her comfort, the fear in you hadn’t faded.

“I-I couldn’t stop it, Karlach,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked up at her. “I… I tried everything. It’s… it’s changing me. I can feel it. What if I lose myself? What if I—" Your voice cracked, and you looked down at your hands, which had started to take on a faint, otherworldly sheen. “What if I become a monster?”

Karlach’s breath hitched in her throat. She could feel your fear like a palpable thing, pressing in on both of you. But she wouldn’t let it take you. Not while she was still here. She cupped your face in her hands, bringing your gaze to meet hers, her eyes filled with fierce determination.

“You listen to me,” she said firmly, but with tenderness, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “You are not a monster. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me? No matter what this tadpole does, it doesn’t get to take away who you are.”

You blinked at her, overwhelmed by the conviction in her voice. The tears kept coming, but her words grounded you.

“But I feel… different,” you admitted quietly, almost ashamed. “What if I start thinking differently? What if I—” Your voice trailed off, too scared to finish the sentence.

Karlach shook her head, pulling you closer, her calloused hand rubbing gentle circles on your back. “Then I’ll be right there to remind you who you are. You think I’m going to let you go down without a fight? Hell no. I know you, better than anyone. You’re stubborn, and you’ve got a good heart—a heart I fell in love with. No tadpole can change that.”

She smiled softly at you, her touch radiating warmth as she brushed your hair back from your face. “And even if you start to feel lost, even if things get scary, you’re not doing this alone, alright? We’ll face it together. Whatever this tadpole does, it has to get through me first.”

The way she said it—so fiercely protective, so determined—made something inside you soften. You leaned into her, resting your head against her chest, letting her hold you as if nothing in the world could ever hurt you again.

“But what if I can’t… stop it?” you whispered after a moment. “What if I can’t fight it forever?”

Karlach’s arms tightened around you. “Then we’ll fight it together. You’ll have me by your side, every step of the way. And if things get hard, if you feel like you’re losing yourself, I’ll be there to pull you back. Every time.” She kissed the top of your head, her voice low and sincere. “You’re not losing yourself, love. Not while I’m here.”

You could hear the pain in her voice—the fear of losing you, of not being able to save you from this. But even more than that, you heard her resolve. She wasn’t going to let this thing win. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you felt a small flicker of hope.

“I love you, you know that?” you murmured, your voice quiet but sincere. It was all you could say in that moment—your way of thanking her for holding you together when you felt like you were falling apart.

Karlach’s chest shook with a quiet laugh, though you could hear the emotion behind it.

“I love you too, more than you know,” she replied, kissing your forehead once more. “We’re going to get through this. I promise.”

You nodded against her, letting her warmth and her unwavering strength comfort you. You knew the fight wasn’t over—far from it. But with Karlach by your side, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could keep hold of yourself. And as she held you in front of the fire, her presence chased away the darkness that threatened to engulf you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

You had locked yourself in your tent for days now, hiding from the world, and hiding from yourself. The Astral-Touched Tadpole had taken root in your mind, warping your body in ways that terrified you. It wasn’t just the physical changes—the strange, shimmering glow to your skin, the unnatural sharpness to your senses—it was the fear of what was happening inside. You could feel it tugging at your mind, whispering, and each day you felt like you were slipping further and further away from who you once were.

Fear clung to you like a second skin, suffocating, and no amount of logic or reasoning could break through the walls you had built around yourself. You refused to leave your tent, convinced that if you did, you would be stepping out as something monstrous, something no one—not even her—could bear to look at.

But Minthara wasn’t the type to wait around. You had learned that early on. Patience wasn’t a virtue she often entertained, especially when it came to things she cared about.

The tent flap was yanked open with force, the dim light of the camp spilling inside and casting long shadows across the floor. Before you could protest, Minthara stepped inside, her presence filling the small space as she glared down at you with a fierce intensity.

“Enough of this,” she snapped, her voice low and commanding. “You will not hide away like some coward over something as insignificant as this.”

Your heart leaped into your throat at her words. “Insignificant?” you choked out, your voice raw from disuse. “Minthara, look at me!” You gestured to yourself, your hands trembling as you did. “It’s changing me. My body, my mind… I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I can feel it inside me, twisting everything. I’m scared I’m going to lose control—lose myself—and turn into something… something horrible.”

Tears welled up in your eyes despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to cry in front of her—not Minthara, who was always so strong, so composed. But you couldn’t help it. The fear was too overwhelming.

For a moment, Minthara said nothing. She just stood there, looking down at you, her sharp eyes narrowing as she took in your disheveled form. Then, with a huff of impatience, she knelt in front of you, grabbing your chin with firm but not painful force and forcing you to look at her.

“Listen to me,” she said, her voice low but fierce. “You are not some fragile creature who will be undone by this. You are strong, stronger than most could ever hope to be. I have seen you in battle, seen you face down horrors that would make others cower. You think a tadpole—a mere parasite—is enough to destroy you?”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell her that this was different, that this wasn’t something you could fight with sword or spell. But before you could speak, she continued, her voice taking on a softer, more dangerous edge.

“You are ethereal,” she said, her fingers brushing against your cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture. “Beautiful. Perfect. This tadpole may have changed you, but it has not taken away the essence of who you are. You are still mine.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and despite the fear still gnawing at your insides, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth at her touch, at the possessiveness in her tone. Minthara was never one for sentiment, but when she spoke like this, you knew she meant every word.

“And if anything,” she added, a sly smile curling at the corners of her lips, “I should be the one sulking. I had hoped to claim the Astral-Touched Tadpole for myself. But now, you’ve gone and taken it from me.”

She said it so casually, so matter-of-factly, that for a moment, you were stunned into silence. Then, as the absurdity of her words hit you, a laugh—small and hesitant—bubbled up from your chest. Minthara raised an eyebrow at you, her smile growing wider.

“There,” she said, releasing your chin and standing up. “That’s better. I would hate to think my lover had lost her sense of humor along with her sense of self.”

You wiped at your eyes, still feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you, but it was lighter now, less suffocating.

“You’re… really not upset about this?” you asked, your voice quiet but hopeful. Minthara sighed dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Upset? No. Mildly irritated that I wasn’t the one to receive the tadpole’s gifts? Perhaps.” She glanced down at you, her expression softening ever so slightly. “But I am not upset with you. You are still the person I chose, the person I… care for. And that will not change, no matter what happens.”

Her words, though delivered with her usual edge, sent a wave of relief washing over you. You hadn’t even realized how much you had been fearing her rejection, her disgust, until this moment. But here she was, standing before you, fierce and unwavering as ever, ready to stand by your side.

“Now,” she said, reaching down and pulling you to your feet with surprising gentleness, “you will stop this nonsense and come out of this tent. There are battles to be fought, plans to be made, and you will not do either from in here.”

You hesitated for a moment, still feeling the lingering fear, but Minthara’s steady presence bolstered you. She wasn’t going to let you fall, not like this.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The campfire crackled softly as the evening air settled around you, a chill that you barely noticed compared to the storm of emotions raging inside. You sat a little ways from the others, staring blankly at your hands—the faint glow of the Astral-Touched Tadpole marking your skin, a constant reminder of your failure. No matter how hard you had fought, how desperately you had tried to resist, it hadn’t been enough. The tadpole had taken root, and now your body had begun to change against your will.

Your fingers trembled as you traced the strange, glowing veins that marked your skin. It felt wrong. You felt wrong. There was something unnatural about it, something that made you fear that this was only the beginning. What if the changes continued? What if you lost yourself entirely, became some mindless thrall, or worse—a monster?

You tried to push the thoughts away, but they kept coming, each more terrifying than the last. The fear settled like a weight in your chest, heavy and suffocating. And then there was her—Lae'zel. The words she had yelled at you echoed in your mind, sharp and cutting.

"You failed! You should have been stronger!" she had spat earlier, frustration and anger evident in her eyes.

She hadn’t meant it, not really, but it had stung. You had wanted to be strong. You had tried. But it wasn’t enough. Now, with the glowing marks on your body, you wondered if she would even want to stay with you. Lae’zel was fierce, a warrior of unwavering conviction. How could she look at you the same, knowing you had succumbed to the very thing she feared?

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear her approach at first, the sound of her boots crunching on the dirt drowned out by your racing mind. It wasn’t until she stood right beside you that you glanced up, startled.

“Lae'zel…” you murmured, your voice raw with emotion.

Her expression was unreadable, her sharp gaze fixed on you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you palpable. Then, to your surprise, Lae'zel crouched down beside you, her eyes scanning your face before they fell to the glowing marks on your skin.

“I…” Lae’zel hesitated, something unfamiliar in her tone—something softer than you were used to. “I was wrong.”

You blinked, the words not quite registering at first. Lae’zel, so strong, so sure of herself, admitting she was wrong? It was almost impossible to believe.

She continued, her voice low and almost hesitant. “I lashed out at you earlier. I should not have. It was not your failure alone. It was mine as well. I should have fought harder for you—for us. I should have been by your side.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you quickly looked away, not wanting her to see. The raw vulnerability in her voice only made the emotions you were trying to suppress come rushing to the surface.

“I tried, Lae’zel,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I tried so hard… but it wasn’t enough. Now, I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m scared.”

Lae’zel’s eyes softened as she reached out, her hand hovering above yours for a moment before she gently took it in her own. Her grip was firm but careful, like she was afraid you might break.

“I know,” she said softly, surprising you once more with the gentleness of her tone. “And I am sorry. I should not have shouted. I let my fear and my anger control me. I feared losing you, and I lashed out.”

Her thumb stroked over the back of your hand, her touch grounding you in the moment. You could feel the warmth of her hand, the strength behind it, and it was enough to calm some of the panic swirling in your chest.

“I do not care what changes have taken place,” Lae’zel continued, her voice steady now. “You are still you. You are still the warrior I fell in love with. That will not change.”

“But what if I change?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if I become something… something terrible? What if I lose myself?”

Lae’zel frowned, her brows furrowing as she considered your words. For a moment, you thought she might brush off your fears, tell you to be stronger, but instead, she surprised you yet again.

“If that happens,” she said slowly, “I will be here. I will stand by your side, no matter what. I will fight for you, just as I always have.”

You looked up at her, tears brimming in your eyes. “Even if I… even if I become something monstrous?”

Lae’zel’s grip on your hand tightened. “Even then,” she said firmly. “I will not abandon you. You are mine, and I do not abandon what is mine.”

Her words sent a wave of warmth through you, and for the first time since the changes had started, you felt a small flicker of hope. Lae’zel was many things—fierce, headstrong, relentless—but she was also loyal. And in that moment, you knew that no matter what happened, she would not let you face it alone. You let out a shaky breath, the weight in your chest lifting just a little.

“I’m sorry too,” you whispered. “I should have been stronger. I should have fought harder.”

Lae’zel shook her head. “There is no shame in what has happened,” she said firmly. “We cannot control everything. But we can fight. And we will fight this, together.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, your hand still held tightly in hers. Then, Lae’zel gently pulled you closer, wrapping her arms around you in a rare display of tenderness. You buried your face in her shoulder, letting the tears you had been holding back finally fall.

“I will not let you go,” Lae’zel whispered, her voice fierce and full of conviction. “No matter what happens, I will not let you go.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at your reflection in the small, cracked mirror. Your skin had begun to shimmer unnaturally, an eerie, faint glow—just the beginning of what the Astral-Touched Tadpole had done to you. The mental changes were subtle at first, an unsettling awareness in the back of your mind, and a creeping, hollow feeling that you weren’t entirely yourself anymore.

Your hands trembled as you touched your face, fingers ghosting over the surface of your skin, trying to find something familiar beneath the changes. But it was hard to recognize yourself. It was like looking at a stranger. You felt alien, disconnected, like something deep within was slipping away, and you were powerless to stop it. You had failed to stop the tadpole from sinking its claws into your mind, your body.

That’s when Shadowheart found you. She had been looking for you in the camp, worried after the most recent battle had left you drained and withdrawn. The flap of the tent opened quietly, and her soft footsteps made their way toward you, but you couldn’t look at her. You couldn’t bear to see the concern in her eyes, the worry that you might be slipping away from her.

Her voice was gentle, yet full of that quiet strength you’d always admired in her.

“Hey… there you are. I’ve been looking for you.” She paused, noticing the way you were hunched over, staring at the mirror like it held all the answers to what was happening to you. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold it together, but your body betrayed you, a shudder running through you as you finally whispered, “It’s changing me.”

Shadowheart’s brow furrowed, her eyes scanning your reflection before they softened with understanding. She stepped closer, kneeling beside you. Her hand, cool and soothing, gently rested on your arm. “What do you mean?”

You turned to her, your voice shaking as you spoke, “I couldn’t stop it, Shadowheart. The tadpole—it’s changing me, inside and out. I feel… different. I don’t know how to fight this. I’m scared that I’ll lose myself, that I’ll become something—something monstrous.”

Her eyes darkened with emotion as she listened, the concern you had feared now apparent in her gaze. But instead of recoiling or showing the panic you expected, Shadowheart’s expression softened. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she reached out, cradling your face in her hands, her thumb brushing against your cheek as if to ground you, to keep you tethered to her.

“You’re not going to become a monster,” she said softly, her voice steady and firm. “I won’t let that happen. You’re still you, no matter what that damn tadpole tries to do.”

Tears stung your eyes as you shook your head, unable to believe her. “But what if I’m not? What if it gets worse? What if I… lose control? What if I hurt you or the others?”

Shadowheart’s grip on your face tightened just slightly, her determination radiating through every word. “Then I’ll be there to stop it. But I don’t think it’ll come to that. You’ve always been stronger than you realize. I know you’re scared, and I know this is… horrifying. But you’re still in control. You still have a choice.”

Her words felt like a lifeline, something to hold on to as the panic and despair threatened to overwhelm you. You leaned into her touch, eyes searching hers for some glimmer of hope.

“How can you be so sure?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Shadowheart smiled softly, a hint of sadness in her eyes but also fierce conviction. “Because I know you. I’ve seen you fight—against impossible odds, against your own fears. And you’ve won every time. You’re not going to let this tadpole define you. You’re stronger than it.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak, but her words eased some of the tension in your chest. You wanted to believe her so badly, but the changes… the changes felt like they were happening faster than you could adapt to them. And you were terrified of waking up one day and not recognizing the person you’d become.

Seeing the turmoil still churning within you, Shadowheart leaned closer, pressing her forehead gently against yours, her breath warm against your skin. “I’m not going to let you go through this alone. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together. I’m not leaving you, no matter what this tadpole tries to do.”

The warmth of her touch, the steadiness in her voice—it was enough to pull you out of your spiral, if only for a moment. You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath as the weight of her promise settled over you. She wouldn’t abandon you. She was here, beside you, even in the face of something so terrifying.

You opened your eyes, finding hers filled with a fierce love that took your breath away. “But… what if I’m not me anymore?”

Shadowheart smiled, a gentle, loving smile that melted the fear just a little more.

“You’ll always be you. No matter how much this tadpole tries to twist things, the person I love is still in there.” She brushed her fingers through your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear before whispering, “And I’m going to remind you of that every day if I have to.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but it wasn’t entirely from fear anymore. There was comfort in her words, in her presence. You rested your head against her shoulder, your body finally relaxing, if only slightly, as you let yourself lean into her.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you admitted, your voice small and vulnerable.

Shadowheart’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as she whispered, “You won’t. I’m right here.”

And for the first time since you felt the tadpole’s dark influence clawing at your mind, you believed her. You weren’t alone in this. And with Shadowheart by your side, maybe—just maybe—you could hold on to who you were.

As she held you, her hands gently stroking your back, you closed your eyes and let the warmth of her love, her strength, soothe the fear that had been gripping you for so long. You didn’t know what the future held, but you knew that with her, you wouldn’t face it alone. And that was enough—for now, it was enough.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

You sat alone at the edge of the camp, knees drawn to your chest, staring at the darkening horizon with a hollow feeling in your chest. The weight of the changes coursing through your body was too much to bear. It wasn’t just the physical transformation—the shimmering glow on your skin, the subtle shift in your senses—but the constant nagging feeling that something else was shifting inside you, something more sinister. The Astral-Touched Tadpole had burrowed into you, and you had failed to stop it. You felt its presence like a growing shadow, threatening to consume everything you were.

Jaheira had been keeping an eye on you all evening. She was never one for dramatic displays of affection, but her eyes often lingered on you when she thought you didn’t notice. You loved her for her strength, her pragmatism, but right now, the fear gripping your chest made you feel like a fragile shell of yourself. You were scared that you’d lose the person you were, that the tadpole would twist your mind, your soul, into something monstrous.

You hadn’t said a word to anyone about it, not even her. But Jaheira knew.

She approached you quietly, her footsteps sure but gentle, the kind of presence that didn’t need to make itself known. She settled beside you, her back straight and her hands resting casually on her lap. For a while, she didn’t say anything, simply sitting in the silence of the camp, the crackling of the fire in the background. The quiet companionship was comforting, but it wasn’t enough to ease the storm raging inside you.

After a moment, you spoke, your voice thick with the weight of your fear. “It’s changing me, Jaheira.” You couldn’t meet her eyes, couldn’t bear to see her reaction. “I’m not who I was… I don’t know what I’m becoming.”

Jaheira remained quiet for a beat, her expression unreadable, but you could feel her gaze on you. Finally, she let out a long breath, a mixture of calm and exasperation.

“You are letting this defeat you,” she said plainly, her voice steady but not unkind. You blinked, surprised by the bluntness of her words.

“What?” You turned to face her, finding no trace of pity in her eyes, only the pragmatic strength you had always admired. She wasn’t coddling you.

“I’ve watched you handle impossible situations before this,” Jaheira continued, her tone even. “You’ve faced down terrors that would leave others quaking, and now you sit here, mired in self-pity over something you cannot change.” Her gaze softened just slightly. “Dry your tears.”

Her words cut through your haze of fear, sharp and direct. You looked down, wiping at your face, realizing that tears had indeed begun to fall, though you hadn’t noticed. But the tears weren’t just out of fear—they were out of frustration. Frustration with yourself, with the situation, with the loss of control.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice small, but it held the weight of the turmoil you were feeling.

Jaheira shifted, her hand finding its way to your shoulder, her grip firm and grounding.

“You do what you’ve always done,” she said firmly. “You fight.”

You glanced at her, seeing the steady resolve in her eyes, the kind of resolve that had kept her alive through countless battles and tragedies. Jaheira was someone who never let herself be weighed down by the things she couldn’t change. She had learned to adapt, to find strength in what remained.

“But what if I’m not strong enough this time?” you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice clear. Jaheira tilted her head, a small, wry smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

“You think strength is about not being afraid? That it’s about being invincible?” She shook her head, her hand squeezing your shoulder. “Strength is about pushing forward, even when you’re terrified. It’s about choosing who you are, no matter what the world or… some tadpole,” she said with a slight scoff, “tries to make of you.”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of her words settling over you. She was right. It wasn’t about the changes or the fear. It was about who you chose to be, even when faced with something as horrific as the tadpole’s corruption. You had always fought for control over your fate, and this was no different. Jaheira leaned back slightly, watching you as you absorbed her words.

“You’re not going to lose yourself,” she said softly, her voice holding a rare tenderness that she reserved for moments like this. “Not while I’m here. Not while we are here.” Her hand moved to your chin, turning your face to meet her eyes. “But you need to stop wallowing in fear and start fighting back.”

Your chest tightened at the raw honesty in her gaze, the way she looked at you like you were still that same person she had fallen in love with, not some twisted creature on the verge of losing themselves. And in that moment, you realized that Jaheira wouldn’t let you fall. Not without a fight.

You managed a small smile, though it was shaky.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, the truth weighing heavy on your chest, but there was a shift in you now, a flicker of the determination that Jaheira had always seen in you.

“I know,” she said softly, her thumb brushing your cheek briefly before she pulled back, her eyes returning to their usual calm. “Fear is natural. But it doesn’t define you.”

You nodded, the knot of fear still there, but loosened by her words. The changes might be out of your control, but you still had a choice in how you faced them. And with Jaheira by your side, grounding you, reminding you of who you were, maybe—just maybe—you wouldn’t lose yourself after all.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. Jaheira gave you a small nod, her lips quirking into a slight smile.

“You don’t need to thank me,” she said, leaning in close enough that her forehead almost touched yours. “Just don’t make me repeat myself.”

Despite everything, you let out a quiet laugh, a tiny spark of hope returning to you. You weren’t alone in this. And with Jaheira’s unflinching pragmatism, her unwavering belief in you—you knew that somehow, you would find a way to face this challenge. Together.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The campfire crackled gently, its warm glow a stark contrast to the cold dread sinking in your chest. You sat off to the side, hugging your knees to your chest, feeling the weight of the changes coursing through your body—the changes you hadn’t been able to stop. You ran a hand along your skin, now marked with the faint, shimmering lines of the Astral-Touched Tadpole’s influence.

You could hear the others moving about in the camp, their laughter and conversation, but it felt distant, disconnected from you. You were afraid—afraid that this was only the beginning, that soon you wouldn’t recognize yourself. What if you became something monstrous, a shell of who you once were? The thought twisted in your stomach, gnawing at you.

And then there was Gale.

He had been watching you for some time, his sharp mind always attuned to the subtle shifts in your mood. Gale could sense when you were withdrawn, and tonight, the heaviness in your heart was undeniable. He approached quietly, his steps soft but deliberate, and sat beside you without a word, his shoulder brushing against yours in a gesture of comfort.

You didn’t look at him. The tears that had been threatening to spill over finally did, a few silent drops trailing down your cheeks.

“I couldn’t stop it, Gale,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It’s changing me. I can feel it. I… I’m scared I’m going to become something else, something awful.”

Gale’s expression softened instantly. Without hesitation, he reached out and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a tear that clung to your cheek.

“You’re not becoming something monstrous,” he said softly, his voice filled with such tenderness it made your chest ache. “You are still you, the person I love, the person who has faced down far worse than this.”

You swallowed hard, trying to fight back the swell of emotion in your throat. “But what if I lose myself? What if I… what if I can’t control it? I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Gale’s brow furrowed slightly as he shook his head. He shifted closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest, holding you tightly.

“You could never hurt me,” he whispered, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Not you. Not the person I know. You’re stronger than this, and you’ll fight it. You always fight.”

You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. But the fear lingered, the doubt gnawing at your resolve.

“I don’t feel strong right now,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “I feel like I’m slipping away, bit by bit.”

Gale’s grip on you tightened, his arms encircling you completely as if he could shield you from your own thoughts. He leaned back slightly, gently guiding your face up so you could meet his gaze. His eyes were warm and filled with a kind of love that made your heart stutter.

“Then let me be strong for you,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “Let me remind you of who you are.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your temple, and one on each of your cheeks. Each kiss felt like a promise, a reminder that you weren’t alone in this battle. That he would be with you every step of the way.

“You are fierce, courageous, and filled with so much light,” Gale murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin. “You’ve saved me more times than I can count. You’ve faced down gods, monsters, and even your own fears. This… this tadpole, this thing inside you? It doesn’t stand a chance against your will.”

His words were like a balm to the turmoil inside you, but still, the fear lingered.

“But what if I can’t…?” you started, but Gale hushed you gently, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer.

“You can, and you will,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “And when you doubt yourself, know that I will be here, loving you through every moment of it. Every inch of you, no matter what happens.”

You let out a shaky breath, resting your forehead against his chest as he held you tightly.

“I don’t deserve you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Gale let out a soft, affectionate laugh, his hand tracing soothing patterns on your back. “Nonsense. It is I who doesn’t deserve you. But I am hopelessly in love with you, so I suppose we’ll have to settle for being perfectly undeserving of one another.”

Despite everything, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Gale always had a way of making you feel like you were worth more than your fears, more than the darkness threatening to consume you.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again, his own gaze brimming with affection.

“I love every part of you,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek again. “No matter what changes, no matter what happens, you will always be you. And I will always love you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The night sky hung heavy above the camp, stars flickering like distant dreams far beyond your grasp. You sat alone by the campfire, legs tucked close to your chest, staring into the flames as they danced, casting fleeting shadows on your face. The warmth from the fire did little to soothe the cold fear twisting inside you.

You could feel the changes. The shimmering lines that traced over your skin, the faint glow of something unnatural stirring beneath. The Astral-Touched Tadpole had done its work, sinking its claws into your body, warping it—warping you. You fought so hard to resist it, to stop it. But you had failed. And now, the fear gnawed at your heart, whispering that you were losing yourself. That soon, you wouldn’t be you anymore. What would you become?

A quiet sound drew your attention, a soft footstep in the grass. You didn’t need to look to know who it was—Astarion. He was always so careful with his movements, every step deliberate, even when he wasn’t trying to be quiet. He had noticed your absence from the group, and of course, he had come looking for you.

“Brooding by the fire, darling? You’re starting to sound like me,” Astarion teased, his voice warm with amusement. But there was an undercurrent of something else—concern, though he would never show it outright. He moved closer, his footsteps light as always, and crouched down beside you, his sharp eyes searching your face.

You turned your gaze away from him, staring down at your hands instead. The shimmering lines on your skin caught the firelight, making you feel like a stranger in your own body.

“I’m not in the mood for jokes right now, Astarion,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Astarion’s brow furrowed, and he shifted his weight, sitting down fully beside you. He tilted his head slightly, his expression softening as he took in the tension in your frame.

“What’s going on? You’ve been distant ever since…” He trailed off, his eyes flickering to the faint glow beneath your skin. “Since the tadpole’s changes started to show.”

You swallowed hard, fighting the rising lump in your throat. “I didn’t want this,” you said, voice trembling. “I tried so hard to stop it, but now… I don’t even recognize myself. It’s changing me, Astarion. I can feel it.” You finally turned to meet his gaze, tears threatening to spill over. “What if I lose myself? What if I become something… monstrous?”

The words hung heavy between you, and for a long moment, Astarion just stared at you, as though trying to comprehend the weight of your fears. You looked away again, unable to hold his gaze, your hands trembling in your lap.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “If you can’t handle… whatever I’m becoming, I would understand.”

Astarion blinked, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Leave?” he repeated, the word sounding almost foreign on his lips. “Why in the Hells would I leave you?”

You glanced at him, surprised by the edge in his voice. Astarion’s expression shifted, something between confusion and hurt flashing in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, darling, but did I miss something? You think I would leave you because of this?” He gestured vaguely toward the shimmering lines on your skin. “This… tadpole nonsense?”

“I—” You faltered, the words catching in your throat.

Astarion scoffed lightly, but it wasn’t in his usual mocking tone. It was more… exasperated, as if the idea of leaving you was so absurd that he didn’t know how to process it.

“First of all, let me make one thing clear—I am not leaving you. Not now, not ever.” He leaned in closer, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart stutter. “Do you honestly think I would abandon you after everything we’ve been through?”

He cupped your face gently, his cool fingers brushing against your skin with surprising tenderness.

“You did this for me,” he said softly, his voice laced with emotion. “For all of us. You fought this fight because you didn’t want to lose any of us, because you wanted to protect us. And now, you think I’d just… walk away?” Astarion let out a soft, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. “You’ve clearly forgotten who you’re dealing with, love.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “But what if I become something else?” you asked, your voice shaking. “What if I can’t control it? What if I lose myself?”

Astarion’s expression softened, and he leaned in even closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Then I’ll be there to remind you of who you are,” he whispered, his voice so tender it made your chest ache. “I won’t let you forget. You’re stronger than this. You always have been.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. His words soothed the fear gnawing at your heart, but still, the uncertainty lingered.

“I’m scared,” you admitted quietly.

Astarion pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek.

“I know,” he said softly. “But you don’t have to go through this alone. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

A small, wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides,” he added, his tone shifting back to its usual playful lilt, “you’re still devastatingly attractive. Astral-tadpole glow and all. If anything, it adds a bit of mystery, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

“I don’t feel very attractive right now,” you muttered.

Astarion rolled his eyes dramatically. “Nonsense. You’re the most captivating creature I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I’ve lived for over two centuries.” He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment. “You’re still you, no matter what happens. And I love you. Tadpole and all.”

You smiled softly, the weight of your fears still there, but less suffocating with Astarion by your side. He always knew how to bring a bit of light into the darkest moments, and tonight was no exception.

As you leaned into his embrace, letting him hold you close, you realized that maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as lost as you feared. Not with Astarion beside you, reminding you of who you were, and loving you through it all.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The camp was quiet, the crackling of the fire barely loud enough to drown out the swirl of emotions twisting in your chest. You sat by the fire, knees pulled close to your chest, staring blankly at your hands. The faint shimmer of the astral-touched lines that now marked your skin caught the firelight, making you feel like a stranger in your own body. The Astral-Touched Tadpole had done its work. You had tried so hard to fight it, to stop the transformation, but in the end, it had seeped into your very being.

You felt your heart clench at the thought. What were you becoming? Was this who you were now? Your skin glowed faintly, the unnatural light reminding you of your failure. A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, though it didn’t stop more from following. You tried to steady your breathing, but the fear was all-consuming—fear of losing yourself, of becoming something monstrous.

A familiar voice broke through the storm of your thoughts.

“Hey, there you are.” Wyll’s voice was soft, concerned, as he approached. His boots crunched lightly on the grass as he stopped just a few steps away. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You didn’t look up, still staring at your hands, at the changes you couldn’t undo.

“I don’t think you want to be here, Wyll,” you murmured, your voice low and trembling. Wyll knelt down beside you, his eyes full of concern.

“Why would you say that, love?” he asked, reaching out to gently brush his fingers against your arm.

You flinched slightly at the touch, though not from discomfort. You were scared—scared of what you were turning into.

“I failed,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I couldn’t stop it. The tadpole… it’s changing me. What if I become something terrible, something monstrous? What if I lose myself?”

Wyll’s expression softened, and he carefully reached for your hand, gently turning it over in his as he examined the glowing lines that marked your skin. He didn’t recoil, didn’t flinch or look at you with fear in his eyes. Instead, he gave you a small, understanding smile.

“You’re still you,” he said softly, his voice full of warmth. “These changes don’t define you.”

You shook your head, tears welling up again. “But what if they do? What if I lose control, Wyll? What if I forget who I am? I don’t… I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Wyll’s fingers tightened gently around yours, grounding you in the moment.

“You won’t lose yourself,” he said firmly. “You’re too strong for that. Too stubborn, too kind, too good to let that happen.”

You tried to pull your hand away, guilt and fear still clawing at you, but Wyll wouldn’t let you go. His grip was gentle but unyielding.

“Look at me,” he said softly.

Reluctantly, you met his gaze, your vision blurry with unshed tears.

“You are the bravest person I know,” Wyll continued, his voice unwavering. “You’ve faced impossible odds and never backed down. You’ve fought for the people you love, for strangers, for me. And nothing—nothing—can take that away from you. Not even this tadpole.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and Wyll wiped them away with his thumb, his touch tender and full of love.

“I’ve seen you at your strongest and your most vulnerable, and I love every part of you,” Wyll said, his voice soft but full of conviction. “This doesn’t change that. It doesn’t change you. You are still the person I fell in love with—the person I will always love.”

You shook your head, still feeling the weight of your fear pressing down on you. “But… what if I lose control? What if I forget who I am?”

Wyll stood, still holding your hand, and gently tugged you to your feet.

“Then I’ll be there to remind you,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. “I’ll be there every step of the way. You won’t go through this alone.”

Before you could protest, Wyll pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as he held you against his chest.

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

You blinked, surprised by the request. “Wyll, I… I don’t think…”

He gently swayed, his hands guiding you into the rhythm. “Trust me,” he murmured. “Just let me hold you for a while.”

You hesitated for a moment, but the warmth of his embrace, the steady beat of his heart against yours, was too comforting to resist. Slowly, you let yourself relax into his arms, your head resting against his shoulder as he swayed you gently in time with the soft crackle of the campfire.

“There you go,” Wyll whispered, his voice soothing. “Just breathe. Just focus on me.”

He twirled you gently, his hand at the small of your back guiding you effortlessly. His warmth, his presence, was enough to momentarily quiet the storm raging inside you. It was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the worries and fears momentarily forgotten in the comfort of his arms.

“You’re not alone in this, love,” Wyll murmured against your hair. “I’m with you. Always.”

You let out a shaky breath, your tears drying as you leaned into him. “I’m scared, Wyll,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” he said softly, his hand rubbing soothing circles against your back. “But I’m not going anywhere. We’ll face this together.”

For a while, you just let him hold you, the gentle sway of his movements easing the tension in your body. The fear still lingered, but it wasn’t as overwhelming now, not with Wyll by your side. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be lost in the moment, in the warmth of his embrace and the quiet comfort of his words.

As the fire crackled softly in the background, Wyll pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

“No matter what happens,” he whispered, “you will always be you to me. And I will always love you. Tadpole or not, you’re still my heart.”

You smiled faintly, your tears finally ceasing. For the first time since the changes began, you felt a flicker of hope, a glimmer of peace. And as you danced in the quiet of the night, held safe in Wyll’s arms, you knew that whatever came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The night was calm, but you couldn't find peace. You sat by the campfire, your knees drawn to your chest as you stared into the flickering flames, lost in the storm of your thoughts. The Astral-Touched Tadpole's presence in your body was a constant reminder of your failure—a failure to resist, to protect yourself from the changes it had begun to inflict on you. It had taken root, and no matter how hard you had fought, the battle had been lost.

Your fingers traced the faint, glowing lines that now ran along your arms, marking you as something… different. Something you didn’t recognize, and that thought terrified you. It wasn’t just the changes in your body that unnerved you, but the fear of losing who you were—your sense of self, your mind.

And then there was Halsin.

His reaction had stung more than anything else. When you had first told him what had happened, the horror in his eyes had been unmistakable. He had pulled away from you, his usual warmth replaced with cold, silent shock. His words were harsh and broke your heart. You had done it to save the group, to save him, and yet he had recoiled, reprimanded. That rejection made the weight in your chest all the heavier.

You hadn’t spoken to him since.

Now, as the fire crackled softly before you, you felt the loneliness settle in—a gnawing emptiness where Halsin’s presence should have been. You had always been able to count on him, his steady presence and his comforting words. But now, in the one moment you needed him most, he was absent.

A faint rustle of leaves caught your attention, and you glanced up to see Halsin approaching the campfire. His broad frame was silhouetted against the trees, his expression unreadable as he walked toward you. For a moment, your heart clenched, a mix of hope and fear swirling in your chest. Was he here to turn away from you again? To tell you that you had made a mistake too great to forgive?

He stopped a few steps away from you, his eyes locking with yours. There was a heaviness to his gaze, a sorrow that mirrored your own. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you thick with unspoken tension. Then, Halsin knelt beside you, lowering himself to sit on the ground, close but not too close.

"Forgive me," he said quietly, his voice laced with regret. "I reacted poorly. I let my fear guide my actions, and in doing so, I hurt you."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling into your chest. You had expected anger or disappointment—anything but this quiet admission of guilt.

"I… I didn’t know what to do," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I tried so hard to resist, but it was too much. And now…" Your gaze fell to your hands again, tracing the glowing veins that ran beneath your skin. "Now I don’t even know what I am anymore. I’m scared, Halsin."

He reached out then, his large hand covering yours gently. The warmth of his touch was a balm to the fear that had been clawing at your heart.

"I know," he said softly. "I can see the pain this has caused you, and I am sorry for adding to it. When I first saw what the tadpole had done, I… I was overwhelmed. It reminded me of the darkness I have seen, the corruption I have fought against for so long. But you are not corrupted. You are still you."

"How can you be sure?" you asked, your voice trembling. "What if I change? What if I become something… monstrous?"

Halsin’s grip on your hand tightened, firm but reassuring. "You are stronger than you realize," he said, his deep voice steady and filled with conviction. "This tadpole may have marked your body, but it does not define who you are. You are more than this—more than what has been done to you. And I will be with you, no matter what comes. I swear it."

His words brought a lump to your throat, and tears you had been holding back began to well up in your eyes.

"You… you pulled away," you whispered, the hurt still raw in your chest. "It felt like you didn’t want me anymore."

Halsin’s expression softened, a deep sadness crossing his face.

"I pulled away because I was afraid," he admitted. "Not of you, but of what I might lose if I couldn’t protect you. I have seen so much pain, so much loss, and I couldn’t bear the thought of watching the person I love slip away into something beyond my reach. But I see now that by pulling away, I was failing you in a different way."

You felt the tears spill over then, and you lowered your head, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Halsin shifted closer, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his strong embrace. You buried your face in his chest, the scent of earth and wildflowers familiar and comforting.

"You haven’t lost me," you choked out through the tears. "I’m still here, Halsin… I’m still me. But I don’t know how long I can hold on to that."

Halsin held you tighter, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"Then I will help you hold on," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I will be here, every step of the way. You will not face this alone. I promise you, I will never abandon you."

His words wrapped around your heart like a lifeline, and for the first time since the tadpole had taken root, you felt a flicker of hope. Halsin wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t pulling away. He was staying, standing by your side just as he had promised from the beginning.

After a long moment, you pulled back slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. Halsin’s eyes were full of love and warmth as he cupped your cheek in his hand.

"You are not alone in this," he reminded you gently. "We are stronger together. Always."

You nodded, feeling the weight in your chest begin to lift, just a little.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice still shaky but steadier than before. "For not giving up on me."

Halsin smiled softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "I could never give up on you," he said. "You are my heart. We will face whatever comes, together."

As you leaned into his embrace once more, the warmth of the fire and the steadiness of Halsin’s presence soothed your fears.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ooof a little hurt/comfort for y'all, hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

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[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

We’re In This Together

Female reader x Dream Visitor | Female reader x the Emperor | I adore them both so why not both | elf daddy smut | mind flayer smut | tentacles literally everywhere | soft domination and mild manipulation | reader’s had the worst day and needs to be absolutely and so sweetly wrecked | PWP | nsfw

You’re having a hard time coping with everything that's happening to you and your crew, but your Dream Visitor knows how to make you relax and keep you on the right path. His path, of course. You know about his true form and you’re intrigued by what those tentacles can do for you. 

AKA please will an eight foot monster wrap his tentacles around you and lovingly use you as his fleshlight.

***

It’s been a bitch of a day. Your stomach is churning as you recall the manic gleam in Gale’s eye when he spoke about keeping the crown’s power for himself. Wyll wants you to decide whether he should sacrifice himself to save his father’s life. Karlach is going to die and you don’t know what to say to her, because there’s nothing you can say. To top it off, Lae’zel has been kidnapped by that madwoman, Orin.

Everything is too much. You rub a tired hand over your face as you sit before the crackling flames of the campfire. Who decided it was a good idea to put you in charge?

Tomorrow. You’ll fix it all tomorrow, you tell yourself as you crawl into your bedroll, your throat burning with despair. Everything will be clearer after a good night’s sleep, or maybe something will kill you and you won’t have to think about it anymore. That would be nice.

There’s blackness all around you as you drift off to sleep, and then stars prickle into life in the sky. You’re no longer at the camp, but in a dreamy, ethereal location with marble columns and purple twining flowers.  

You see a tall elf with long, white hair, a handsome face, and knowing eyes striding toward you. He’s so beautiful that he takes your breath away, but this isn’t his true form. You’ve seen the real one, and he’s a mind flayer.

He stands head and shoulders over you in glinting armour, folds his arms, and gives a heavy sigh. “What a bundle of self pity you are tonight.” But there’s gentleness in his eyes as he says it.

“Shut up, Mr. Perfect. If this is all so easy, switch places with me and you do it.”

“We’re doing this together,” he assures you in that deep, velvety voice. 

Are you? You want to trust him, but you’re still unsure of his motives. 

He reaches out and takes your hand in his enormous one, and the gesture is so kind and comforting and you need comfort so much right now that you allow it. 

Looking deep into your eyes, he says, “I would spare you if I could. You know I’m nothing without you.”

His thumb rubs circles on the centre of your palm and it feels so good. Why does he always know exactly what to say and do to make the tension in your body melt? And other parts of you melt as well.

He knows that, doesn’t he? He knows everything about you because he lives inside your mind.

“Yes, I know,” he says, answering the question that you didn’t ask aloud. “I’m flattered, but I’m nothing thinking about me. I’m thinking about you. I can help you relax,” he offers, the smallest smirk on his lips. “It’s the least I can do for you after all you’re doing for me.”

You’ve seen that smirk before. It’s the same pleased, secretive smile that was on his lips as he boasted that he saved your life. Twice. Then again when you spared his life inside the Astral Prism. He was so proud of himself for convincing you to be on his side, but he is a mind flayer after all. Everything about this species seems to be about domination and power.

“Why have you appeared to me in your elf form?” you ask. 

He flicks a sideways look at you, that same self-satisfied smile on his lips. “No reason. I just felt like it.”

“What’s the real reason?”

“You are too clever, little one. You read me as easily as I read you.” He laughs softly and takes a look around at the heavens. When he finally turns back to you, his eyes have darkened. “Because I’m hoping to seduce you, and I believe you’re more attracted to this form.”

His confession sends a hot spark shooting through you. No doubt this is more manipulation. He’s trying to use you, but maybe you can use him right back.

Experimentally, you reach up and cup the nape of his neck. Stroke his strong jaw with your thumb. He’s solid and warm. Very solid. He feels real. 

Moving toward you, he whispers, “I am real. Close your eyes.”

He waits to see what you will do--lift your chin to receive his kiss, or tell him that you're not crazy enough to try this with him? 

If he wants to touch you, you can think of no better way to relax tonight. Your eyelids drift closed, and a moment later you feel the brush of his lips across yours, soft and questioning.

You open your eyes and you see that he’s wearing not the armour anymore, but robes that reveal his strong shoulders and chest. Heavens, he’s beautiful. The world can go away and leave you alone tonight, because crazy is looking and feeling pretty wonderful right now. 

You hook your fingers into the fabric of his robes and pull his mouth down to yours.

He kisses you insistently, and you moan as his tongue flicks your lips.

“That’s right,” he murmurs softly in between kisses. “Just relax, little one. You’re safe here with me.”

You’re in your soft and thin sleeping clothes, and his large hands slide down to your ass, gathering you closer and kneading your flesh as he pulls you tightly against him. Your body molds to his muscles, you breasts pushing against him and your nipples tingling. This feels more real than anything that happens while you’re awake, and you give into it completely, opening your mouth so his tongue can caress yours. 

He lifts you up in his arms and lays you down on blankets that have suddenly appeared. 

You deserve someone kissing you and holding you like you’re precious. 

It’s so hard being strong and steely all the time.

You don’t have to be strong right now. 

You can be sweet and soft and surrender to this.. 

You frown slightly. Are these your own thoughts, or are they his? Some of them feel like his, as if he’s pushing them into your mind and making you believe them, but you don’t want to shove them away. It’s everything you want to hear right now. 

Your Dream Guardian pushes your robes up your thighs and drags your underwear down your legs, hunger and possession lighting his eyes. He strokes your inner thighs wonderingly, like he’s never felt anything so soft.

Then he pushes your thighs apart and runs his fingers down your sex. “So pretty. I have been imagining the way you taste. I know that it’s...” He lowers his head and caresses you with his tongue, making you gasp and jump. “Wonderful.” 

With a deep, contented sigh, he licks you again. As your breathing picks up, he strokes a finger down your sex, and then pushes it inside of you, all the way to the knuckle. You cry out loudly. Oh, by all the gods in the heavens. Nothing has ever felt so good before. 

As he goes on licking and thrusting his fingers into you, you whimper and clench your hands on the blankets.

“This is one thing I like about this form. A tongue,” he murmurs. 

“Which form do you prefer?” you gasp.

“Whichever you prefer,” he answers smoothly.

This form. Of course this form. Right? How would you even touch and kiss in his mind flayer form?

But even as you’re enjoying his soft tongue on your clit and his thick fingers pushing inside you, your heart and your core crave something...more.

Finally the words spill from your lips. “I want your true form.”

Your Dream Guardian sits up and looks at you, and for the first time you see worry in his eyes. The desperation of someone who hasn’t known intimacy in a long time. “Please let me stay like this. I worked so hard to make you trust me so I could finally kiss you. I can only persuade you so far that you...I don’t want this to end.”

You reach up and touch his face. “Who says it will end?”

He thinks about this for a moment, his fingers still moving in and out of you. Then he lowers his head and tastes you again, more insistently now. His voice is roughened with desire as he says, “You’re already irresistible. If I transform, I don’t know if I’ll be able to let you go until I’m finished with you. It’s a primal form. Everything I have will want to latch onto you. You have to be sure.”

Everything he has. His tentacles? The mental image you get makes heat pulse through you, and he groans.

“Yes, just like that,” he whispers. 

You’re so close to coming. Heat is balling up inside you as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, hitting that sweet spot over and over. You don’t want this to end either. There’s so much more the two of you could have together. “Please,” you beg him. “I want your true form.”

He sucks thoughtfully on your clit, and this slowly sits up, considering your body. “It seems a waste not to use this form when I know you like it. Let me just…” He pulls off his long robe so his naked body is revealed to you. A breath-taking form. Strong thighs. A muscular stomach. He’s hard and his cock is thick and beautiful. 

Wrapping his hand around his cock, he moves so he’s braced over you, and you feel the broad, plush head of him pushing against you, and then sinking into you, inch after inch of his length. He’s right. This is wonderful. His body is entrancing as he slowly starts to fuck you. 

With each thrust, you moan louder and louder, your hands clenched on his shoulders. 

“Yes. Beautiful. You’re so good to fuck. You take me so well,” he whispers. His voice is hypnotic. The adoring expression on his handsome face is everything you’ve ever craved. Heat swells inside you with every thrust and drag of his cock. It grows and grows until you can’t take it anymore. Your nails dig into his muscular shoulders and you cry out, pulling him closer and deeper into you until you’re left shaking and gasping. 

“So you do want me like this,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you as he pulls out of you. “Then let us try the other way.”

You open your eyes to look at him but he covers them with his hand. Suddenly, the air around you shifts. Everywhere you’re touching him suddenly feels bigger.

When he takes his hand away, it’s a purple colour tipped with black claws. Your Dream Guardian is looming over you in his true form, with its tapered skull, luminous eyes, and four long tentacles where a moment ago there was a mouth. 

So strange. But not unfamiliar by now. And...alluring. You reach up and stroke your fingers over his smooth, fleshy tentacles. His hands stay braced against the ground, but his tentacles move over you, exploring your breasts, your hips, between your thighs. 

He watches you carefully as a tentacle pushes inside you, deeper than his cock. Thicker. It pulsates, making you cry out. Your whole body feels alive.

His cock has grown larger and turned a deeper purple than the rest of him, aggressively thickened, and with bumps along the underside and a slightly tapered head.

You don’t get much chance to look at it before he moves closer, the tapered head slipping easily into you, and thrusts inside you. You feel every bump. The tapered head probing sharply. The stretch of a thickness you’re not used to. He feels so strange, but as you cry out, you hold onto his shoulders with both hands, watching in fascination as the monstrous and strange cock moves in and out of you. 

“Yes. This will work. But you need more. I want to give you everything.” His reverberating voice speaks inside your mind.

He pulls out and two of his tentacles snake down to caress your thighs before slowly massaging your sex. Pleasure ripples through you and you close your eyes and relax back. This feels right. This feels even better than his handsome elf form. His tentacles are firm and fleshy and first one of them pushes inside you, and then the other. You reach down and stroke your clit as the thick, slippery tentacles slide and thrust inside you.

He pulls you up and astride him. You put a hand out to steady yourself in his embrace but, faster than a striking snake, his other two tentacles wrap around your body and pin your hands behind your back.

Without pulling his tentacles out, he pulls you firmly and sharply down on his cock. The sensation is overwhelming. You’re not sure if you can take much more. 

You feel a victorious growl inside your mind. He’s hungry for you. Greedy for you. “I have wanted you like this ever since we were connected. I am with you everywhere. I hear all your thoughts. I am always inside your head, but your body has fascinated me just as much. Each time your power has grown and evolved, I have craved you more and more. You’ve held yourself apart from me. You wouldn’t let me dominate you, but now you haven’t no choice.”

His clawed fingers dig into your waist, pricking sharply. Your sex clenches at his possessive, dangerous words, and then allows him deeper. 

You can do this. 

You want this.

A tentacle snakes up and wraps around your throat. You open your mouth to tell him that you don’t want him to stop, but the tentacle pushes past your lips and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I can hear you. I hear every thought you have. You can never hide from me. You’re mine.”

Your mouth waters around his tentacle. You feel saliva stream from the corner of your mouth and down over your breasts. So many wet, squelching, sucking noises fill your ears, along with your muffled moans and the deep rumbling from within his chest.

“You don’t want to think. You want to surrender to me. Have me dominate you completely. Fill you so full until there’s no room for doubt and uncertainty. Until there’s only me. Forever.”

One of the tentacles inside you slowly wriggles free, and he continues to move you up and down on his cock. Almost like a rag doll. You’re helpless in his grip. The tentacle pushes against the tight ring of your ass. That isn’t anything you’ve ever felt before. Your eyes open wide and alarm shoots through you. 

The Emperor sends a soothing impulse into you at the same time as his tentacle slips inside you, just a little at first, and then worming deeper. Gentle ripples flow along its length in time with his cock moving in and out of you. By all the gods, that feels so strange, but so good. Your head falls back. Your eyes close. He moves even deeper into your throat. Deeper into your pussy adn ass. He would never hurt you. He only wants to give you pleasure, and he feels so good everywhere that he’s deep inside you. 

“So good. So obedient, and all mine. This is what I can do for you. Only me. You love this, don’t you? Feel how good it is to surrender and do exactly what I say. Just a little more and we can be together forever. Just a little more. Just a little more…”

The mind flayer pushes deeper and deeper, stretching your ass, and making your pussy throb. Your core is lighting up with every rough thrust. All the delicious tension is winding your body tighter and together.

“You were made to be fucked like this. You were made for me. Only me. ”

Suddenly, all the tension in your body releases in an overwhelming rush. Your core burns with golden light. You feel his victory and self-satisfaction stabbing through you along with his cock, driving your climax higher and higher. You’re his. He owns this pleasure. He owns you. 

Every place he enters you convulses against his cock and tentacles, gripping and squeezing him. His pride and victory turn to urgent pleasure as your body works its magic on him. His thrusts grow sharp and selfish. Needy. Faster. His panting fills your ears and his pleasure fills your mind. He hasn’t let go in so long.

A spasm goes through you as he bursts inside you, and he pulls your body roughly against his and rocks you back and forth in his embrace. You’ve never felt anything like this. You never want to leave him. He lets go of your hands, and you wrap your arms around him. 

Slowly, you both open your eyes. He lays down on the ground, taking you with him and withdrawing his tentacles from everywhere but keeping his cock inside you.

With your cheek pillowed against his shoulder, he strokes you lovingly and murmurs, “I need to stay inside you longer. I’m not ready to let you go. Sleep. You may stay here with me as long as you need to rest. Time passes differently here, and when you finally awake, you’ll be deeply rested, your mind will be clear, and you’ll understand everything you have to do for me. For you. For us.”

You close your eyes, your whole body relaxing and feeling deliciously full, and you drift off into dreamless sleep.

***

Thank you so much for reading! I hoped this pleased your horny monster heart. Please leave me a comment/reblog and let me know what you think.

[breelandwalker]

#30 What do you think is a scam in witchcraft? (Go off!)

Wow, y'all had your priorities in order, didn't you. 😆

There are SO many things in the witchcraft community that I think are scams. Here's a sampling, in no particular order.

The Law of Attraction / Assumption / Lucky Girl Syndrome / "Manifesting" (aka victim blaming, thought policing, and confirmation bias dressed up in buzzwords). The whole Burning Times / Unbroken Line narrative. (In fact, any narrative that paints the victims of witch trials as actual witches as we define the term today just pisses me off, it's so fucking disrespectful.) All the ancient aliens / star people / indigo children / pyramid conspiracy bullshit that gets passed around in pagan circles. The "need" for a bevy of expensive crystals and tools and clothing and accoutrements in order to be a "proper" witch.

The idea that you have to abandon belief in science in order to believe in magic. The essential oils racket (where it overlaps with magical practice). The way that some witchcraft and pagan spaces push homeopathy and naturopathy over modern medicine because Witchy Reasons.

People who offer familiar spirits or astral helpers for sale (especially the ones with the clickbait descriptions). People who market themselves as pagan self-help gurus who can "fix" your mental health or life issues through magic. People who offer ridiculously overpriced classes or courses to "uncover the secrets of the universe / discover your past lives / realize your psychic potential / whatever."

But tbh I think the biggest scam in witchcraft is the idea that there are people out there waiting to curse anyone and everyone that crosses their path, just for shits and giggles, and that they can ruin your life just by knowing the slightest thing about you or your practice. And on the heels of that, I think the idea that being a witch or practicing magic makes you more visible and appetizing to spirits / demons / evil forces and therefore you need SO much protection Or Else is equally scammy. It just rubs me the wrong way when anti-Catholic or anti-witchcraft scaremongering rhetoric gets incorporated into community beliefs.

witchcraft ask game

[bettyfrommars]

The Nightmare Factory

an Eddie Munson x Reader series

The Fabric of Moonbeams

Masterlist

18+Only for mature themes, mention of sleep disorders and sleeping medication, longing, afab!reader, astral travel, horror icons. wc: 4.2.

Eddie got demoted to Ominous Thuds & Ghostly Whispers status after the whole Headless Horseman debacle.  Not because Steve or Saul narced on him, but because the eye in the nightmare sky sees everything.

He tried tapping the morse code that Wayne taught him on your bedroom wall one night, but only succeeded in making you sleep upright in the chair in your living room with all of the lights on.  You had dark circles under your eyes the next day, and almost dozed off at your keyboard.

You spent a lot of time looking at the sketch you had done of him, and the description of the headless horseman dream that you remembered with fascinating clarity.  You could close your eyes and smell the soap and leather of his skin now, and you could see the way his mouth moved when he spoke to you.  He knew your name, and you felt like you knew him.  

You found a book at the library called, “My boyfriend, My Nightmare” about a woman who believed she was in a relationship with a man in her dreams for years.  No one believed her, of course, and she was diagnosed with a particular type of rare disorder that had her on such heavy sleeping medication that it was impossible to remember her dreams, if she even had them at all.  

You sank down on a soft chair and almost read the entire thing in one sitting.  According to this woman, there is a place called The Nightmare Factory where your nightmares punch a clock and take lunch breaks together and collect a paycheck.  Apparently, it sits on a separate plane of existence, and you go there when you sleep.  Nightmares can exist during waking hours as well, the author said, and you sat up straight to read that paragraph.  

“The membrane that keeps our worlds apart begins to dissolve when you are able to perceive the nightmares, when you begin to understand that there is no true distinction between reality and dreams.”

“If you can imagine it, it exists somewhere in possibility,” the author continued.  “The Nightmare Factory workers are a form of entertainment to save us from the true horrors of human existence.”

What ever happened to the woman? Did she ever get to be with the man she fell in love with in her nightmares?  You skipped to the last chapter, and skimmed a few pages until you found what you were looking for.  

Her final words were very vague, but she admitted to going off of her prescribed sleeping medication, which made her have insomnia for a week, but then she started to dream again.  

“I know that no one will believe me, and that’s fine, I did not write this to convince anyone.  I’m having it published through a private company to help those who might find themselves in a similar situation.

By the time you read this, I will be gone.

The physical particles of my body have a hard time assimilating when I return from dreams now, and one day soon, I will stay there with him and not return through the secret door.  I’m not sure if I will ever be able to get back to this astral plane as anything more than a visitor, so please, if you are able to cross over, find me.”

You checked the clock on the wall, knowing you should head home, and then you found a few more books to take with you.  One was a manual on how to decipher your dreams, and the other was another memoir, though not as detailed, that someone had written about moving through the dream world with your physical body.

That’s impossible, you mused to yourself.

But still, some strange blossom of hope in your gut moved you to tuck it under your arm.

Meanwhile, Eddie flirted his way into the 7am Unexplained Voices & Creaking Stairs class by offering to service the teacher’s car for free.  She was a ghostly apparition who wore glasses and a pair of gloves to give students a hint to her presence.  She finally accepted after some hesitation, knowing full well that there was a waitlist. 

Anyway, her ghostmobile was not only serviced, but detailed, and there Eddie was, in the front row, bouncing his knee, eager to learn anything and everything he could.  

His band played a show at the Hideout that night.  The Hideout in Eddie’s dimension was a place where a lot of Nightmare Factory workers went after their shifts, so it often looked like the bar scene from Star Wars, but with ghouls. The factory was the biggest employer for a thirty mile radius, and everyone who grew up in Hawkinsville had worked there at least once in their life.  

It had been difficult when Eddie and Wayne first moved there when he was young.  Eddie was what they called “a normie”, meaning he was not born into the nightmare life.  He hadn’t been raised by evil clowns or wolves or demons who walked on goat legs.  He’d picked up shapeshifting pretty fast though, and he’d learned to make his eyes go completely black whenever he wanted to by the time he was ten.

There were more than four drunks at the place that night, Eddie counted at least six, and then there were a few normies at a table, but he didn’t recognize them.  The bartender had a beer ready for him and slid it to the end of the bar before giving him a “thumbs up” motion.  Corroded Coffin did not get paid by the venue to play on Tuesday nights, so the beer was always on the house.  They had a tip jar at the edge of the stage that usually only had a couple bucks in it by the end of the evening, or a sprinkle of loose change.  

They were halfway through the set when Eddie looked out into the crowd and saw you.

He blinked hard, squeezing his eyes shut for a beat, but when he opened them again, he saw that it was really you—standing there, staring back at him, plain as day.

Sure, the room was dark and filled with smoke, but there seemed to be some type of luminescence around you.

Eddie cleared his throat into the mic and wiped his hair off his sweaty forehead, waiting to make sure to make sure you weren’t a mirage for the thirsty man that he was.  Some shrill feedback sounded through the speakers, and he mumbled an apology to the crowd.

You lifted your hand up slowly to wave at him, and you mouthed a little, “hi,” as a smile twitched across your lips.

But this time, it was Eddie who woke up.

He was back in his own bed, gasping for air, wanting to cry, wanting to return, needing to know how you had made it into his dream.

You were looking for him now.  Somewhere, behind the scenes of time and space, an invisible membrane was getting thinner.  

—------

“Are you coming or what?” Your friend Ellie turned to see that you had stopped short at the entrance to the Haunted House attraction you were about to enter.  You’d already paid, and had your hand stamped, but all of a sudden you wanted to be back in your bed, reading.  

You loved Halloween, but you weren’t a huge fan of jump scares, unless they were coming from that guy you kept dreaming about, the one named Eddie.

You wrote his name down in cursive and blocked letters all over the inside of your notebook, wanting to press it into the wrinkles of your brain.  It had been weeks since you last saw him, and every night you hit the pillow, you were hopeful.  

“I’m coming,” you jogged a bit to catch up, listening to the evil, mechanical cackling and high-pitched screams coming from inside.

You caught up to her and stayed close.  There were strobe lights inside and menacing figures loomed in the narrow hallway before you turned a corner into a dining room full of people with decapitated heads.  A few scare actors jumped out to lurch at you from dark corners while thunderous organ music played.

After the next room, there was a shuffle of people as one of the animatronic spiders dropped down from the ceiling, and one of the scare actors with a pig mask blocked your path right when the hallway split, so you lost Ellie, and all of a sudden, you were alone.  

You spun in a circle and called Ellie’s name.

Surely you’d still be able to hear the sounds from the haunt? But everything was quiet, the crowd was gone, and the noises from earlier were muffled, as if coming from far away.

Panic rose in your throat as you felt along the wall for a light switch or a door.  You stumbled around a black, velvet curtain and caught sight of the glowing EXIT sign with a rush of relief.

“Ellie? Anybody?” You eyes were having a hard time adjusting to the inky darkness, but the illumination from the sign gave you hope

This was fine, you’d wait for the other’s outside and tell them you had to duck out because you weren’t feeling well, which was not a complete lie.  

Beyond the door were aged, wooden stairs that went down.  A single light bulb dangled from the ceiling to offer a weak, ocre glow.  You didn’t remember climbing stairs to get into the building, but you must’ve been mistaken.

You hurried down the steps, hearing the door slam shut behind you with unexpected force, enough to shake the walls.  

Something didn’t feel right; the further you went down on the creaking steps, the darker and danker it seemed to get.  There was a sudden heat emanating and you could make out some soft rattling and hissing sounds.

By the time you realized you’d gone down into a sealed basement, it was too late.  

It wasn’t just a basement, though—it was a…boiler room?

There were metal tanks producing steam mounted with temperature gauges, and you couldn’t see to the other side of the space because they were massive.

“Hello?” You took a tentative step forward, looking around the concrete walls for some type of door to get out of the building.  Your heart was in your throat, and your breathing was getting rapid as your eyes jerked from side to side like a scared rabbit.  

You wrapped your arms around yourself. “Can anyone hear me? I got turned around and I’d like to leave now.”

There came a high pitched scraping then, like nails on a chalkboard, and it was so shrill, you had to cover your ears.  

“I can hear you just fine,” a deep, gravely voice chuckled from somewhere to your right.

Your attention snapped in that direction.  Instinct was telling you to start backing up, to get further away, to go bolt up the stairs, but that’s not what you did—you just froze there.  

It wasn’t long before you spotted a pair of glowing eyes peering at you from between two of the pipes, against the far wall. 

There was a person standing there.

It had to be one of the scare actors, down there on their break, or maybe this was a part of the haunt? But where was everyone else? And why was there a huge, poorly lit boiler room in the basement of that old house?

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he spoke in an evil sneer, like a villain in a cartoon.  

“This isn’t funny,” you shouted. “I just want to get out of here, please.”

He gave another diabolical cackle, and then there was the sound of nails on a chalkboard again.

The man in the basement with you stepped into view with a flourish, brandishing the long, metal daggers on his hand, flexing each finger for you to see each one individually; the tips were sharp and the blades caught the light.  He had on an old, brown fedora, a green and red sweater, and his skin was covered in scar tissue from severe burns.

You were down in that boiler room with Freddy Krueger.

The scream you let out as he charged toward you might’ve cracked fissures in the concrete.

You spun on your heel—

—and landed face first into the body of the person that had been standing behind you.  You felt the ragged, torn nature of a shirt under your cheek as whoever it was had enormous height, and then you pushed back and looked up in time to see a hockey mask with black eyes staring down at you, expressionless. His shoulders were broad and his body massive. Out to the side, he brandished a gleaming machete that was the length of your arm.

“Hi baby, get behind me!” The person in the Jason Voorhees mask said, sounding slightly echoed and muffled. The look he had was the same as in the movies, but this one had curly, almost frizzy dark hair that was long past his shoulders.

That voice…it was Eddie.

It was your Eddie.

You stammered a partial question, but then  you were already moving, letting his arm guide you around so that his body acted as a shield from Freddy who was cackling and swiping his finger knives around; you could hear the sharp whistle of air against the metal.  

You held on to the hips of Voorhees Eddie from behind and peeked under his raised arm to look at Freddy.  This Eddie in front of you was tall and massive, much more so than you remembered from the last dream you had.

“What the hell are you doing here, maggot?” The Freddy Krueger guy growled, saliva dripping from his yellow teeth as his pocked skin stretched over his cheeks like curdled milk.  

“Don’t worry about it, Jerry,” Eddie growled with disdain, throwing his machete into the other hand with deft precision. It twirled in the air and he caught it by the handle.  “This one is mine.”

“Oh, really?” The guy who looked like Freddy suddenly had a normal voice again, and his shoulders relaxed, dropping his hands to his sides. “I didn’t know, wow man, I’m sorry. Did I get the schedules mixed up?”

Voorhees Eddie relaxed too, dropping his free hand down to hold your hip, making sure you were still there. “No, you’re good,” Eddie’s voice was light now, soft, even. “I’m just filling in for Alex, he’s on vacation for a few days.”

“Paid leave?” Freddy/Jerry asked.  You were trying to match his face with the voice coming out, but it wasn’t working.

“I think so,” Eddie nodded once. 

“Must be nice to have seniority,” Jerry put his knives hand on his hip and scratched under his hat with the other. “Okay well, I’m going to head over to the next job. See ya, Munson.”

And with that, a black space the size of a door opened behind Jerry and he stepped through it. The door disappeared, and so did he. 

“Eddie?” You said his name over the hiss of the boilers as he turned to you.  You could see the realistically gray, rotting flesh of his Voorhees skin under his mask.  “What are you doing in a boiler room looking like Jason Voorhees?”

“Workin’,” he smiled and dropped the machete to the concrete with a clang to be able to snake his arms around you so that his fingers clasped at your lower back.  “I’ve been missing you.”

His new height was throwing you off as you tilted your head back to look up at him.  

“I recognized your voice this time,” you smiled, proud of yourself.  

He lowered his head to touch the mask to your forehead.  “I didn’t mean to disappear on you.  It took me a while to be able to have physical form again, to be able to see you like this.”

“It’s okay, I know,” you slid your hands up the torn clothing over his broad chest.

“You know?” He pulled back, searching your face.

“I’ve been reading this book, about where you work,” you wet your lips. “That Nightmare Factory place. I’ve been trying to figure out…how to see you more often.”

Eddie’s heart jumped.  He put his hand over yours on his chest and held it there, and you could see that even as Jason Voorhees, he still wore his signature metal rings.  “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course,” you got a bit bashful and looked down. “I want to…get to know you better.”

“I saw you the other night in my dream,” he rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand.  

You stared up into his eye sockets of his mask, and your face lit up.  “That was cool, wasn’t it? I couldn’t believe I found you.  There is a sort of meditation in the book that I did about a thousand times, and it was only for a second. I think it’s a type of astral projection. You looked really good on stage.”

Eddie tucked his chin almost bashfully, moving his hand to interlace his fingers with yours.  “You thought I looked good?”

Eddie had been learning too.  Learning new skills to come to you in your nightmares, but also learning about a rare case where a nightmare worker crossed into your dimension and stayed there.  They were never heard from again, and some say they didn’t survive the crossover and their particles exploded into the ether, but Eddie chose to believe that was a lie to keep people from trying.  

Suddenly, there was a banging sound, muffled and far away, but you could feel it thudding in your chest.  You checked around the room, thinking it was noise from one of the pipes, but Eddie dropped your hand and squeezed your arm, checking his digital wrist watch with a sigh like he usually did when he was about to make his exit.

Back at the factory, someone was banging their fist against the transportation door, shouting for Eddie. He tightened the muscles in his jaw, frustrated that there never seemed to be enough time. It sounded a whole lot like Kevin.

He had to figure something out soon, before his heart exploded.

“Are you in trouble again?” Now that you knew a bit more about what he did, you feared he might get penalized, and you wouldn’t lay eyes on him for another month.  The pounding continued intermittedly, and you faintly heard someone call out Eddie’s name.

“No, not this time, sweetheart,” Eddie stretched, puffing his chest out a bit, and then bent forward to put the mouth of the mask on your forehead. You could feel his warm breath on your skin there.  “But my shift is over.  I have to get back before my timer goes off.”

“Before your timer goes off? Sounds like you’re in a microwave.”

“Well,” he tipped his head to the side, thoughtfully.  “The technology is similar, I suppose, but yeah, I hate to leave you like this.”

You hugged Eddie Voorhees as hard as you could and spoke into his chest.  “Maybe next time, I’ll find you first.”

The distant banging got louder, more persistent.

He bent down to grab the machete, pushed a button on his watch, and the same square, black opening in the air appeared.

There was a second there when you considered just running and jumping through his door, but then you remembered a part in the book when it mentioned how that type of jarring dimensional travel could give Dreamers what scuba divers called “the bends” from the dramatic change in pressure.  

You were about to tell him you’d miss him, or goodbye, or something else, but then, in a blink, you were jolted back to your senses—

—you were back in the hallway of the haunt right after the spider had dropped from the ceiling.

Wait a minute.  How had that happened?

You were at a dead halt, stopping the flow of people traffic as you looked down at your hands and over at Ellie who had turned around to motion you to keep moving as another scare actor dressed like a deranged doctor covered in blood jumped from the corner.

When you got home, you rushed to your desk to open the book, and flipped to the chapter called “The fabric of moonbeams”.  It talked about “dream pockets” that occurred like daydreams when you were linked to someone.  The author didn’t know exactly how to explain it, but she suspected it had something to do with sudden surges of adrenaline that caused a dimensional shift, especially if you had a connection to someone at the factory.  

You sketched out Eddie again that night, this time, it was what you remembered from when you’d visited him for a few seconds at The Hideout.  Flanked by his bandmates, he was strumming the strings on his guitar, looking down with one knee bent out and his hair hanging down.  

You wanted to recapture the scene as realistically as possible so that you could study it to prepare for the next time you tried to visit him.  Next time, maybe you'd step into his world and not his dream.

Maybe next time, he’d kiss you again.

----

Happy Halloween weekend to all of you who are enjoying this series, thank you for reading 🧡

[unicyclehippo]

the witches whomst are bitches, ritual + oleander + salt

imogen laid down in the centre of the ritual circle—“magic herbs” she was pretty sure were weeds and flowers, not remotely magical, that fearne had plucked out of random gardens and shoved in her pocket(s) and salt—and accepted a kiss from her girlfriend when she bent low to nudge a pillow under her head.

‘i’ll be here the whole time!’ laudna assured her.

‘unless i tell you to leave,’ fearne chimed in.

‘unless she tells me to leave. in which case,’ laudna lowered her voice, ‘i’ll sneak round the house, climb the side, and watch through the window. I’ll break in if she does anything dangerous. or threatens your virtue.’

‘baby, i don’t have any virtue to threaten,’ imogen teased, and dragged her eyes across the blotchy blush that ran up laudna’s neck.

‘oh well, yes that’s, well! well!’ laudna laughed.

‘are you two flirting?’ fearne asked. when imogen nodded, she pouted. ‘mean! i couldn’t hear! say it all again?’

‘well, i said—‘

‘she’s kiddin’,’ imogen interrupted laudna, reaching out of the ritual circle to squeeze her wrist. she paused, infatuated by the way laudna looked at her—the confused way she blinked, stammered, like imogen had swiped every thought clean out of her head—before settling once more in the circle.

fearne pouted, sighed, batted her lashes for good measure. ‘i wasn’t kidding,’ she said, kneeling next to laudna and the circle. ‘i’m really good at flirting too.’

‘we know,’ imogen chorused with laudna, exchanged another giggle and sidelong look.

fearne’s lidded look had imogen’s laugh trailing off, uncertain. ‘you have no idea,’ she promised. ‘take your shirt off.’

‘what? no.’

‘oh?’ laudna perked up.

‘oh fine, but the spell won’t be as effective if you don’t.’

‘aren’t we just trying to prank ashton? like, astral projection or whatever?’

‘oh is that what we’re doing? hm.’

imogen narrowed her eyes. ‘baby. grab her spellbook and tell me what it says.’

laudna flushed again—she wasn’t used to the term, nor the endearment, even though imogen had always been kind always been sweet it was different, she was hers now and everyone knew it, knew what it meant!!—and scuttled along to fearne’s altar—candles, a lava lamp, a dead bouquet of flowers, every train ticket stub she had from visiting her mama and oleander up the coast.

‘hm,’ laudna said, and ‘oh, hm,’ and ‘yes, that’s not the same spell at all. unless of course it’s a fake title.’

‘what does it say?’ imogen didn’t take her eyes away from a grinning fearne, who waggled her brows.

‘well.’

‘laudna.’

‘some parts are hard to read, since it’s in pink gel pen? and the light - it’s a little -‘ Laudna’s words barrelled out when imogen glanced at her just so—though not without a deep blush. ‘spell to grow enormous kno- breasts.’

‘knockers,’ fearne whispered the correction to Imogen, and winked.

imogen sat up.

‘wait! you promised!’

‘not for this! i reckon i’m doin’ just fine on my own!’

‘can confirm,’ laudna agreed from her place by the altar. she touched a dead stalk, which snapped, and guiltily hid it behind her back.

fearne huffed. ‘fine. we can do the stupid astral projection. and you can show me your boobs.’

‘fearne.’

‘you can see mine?’

‘fearne.’

‘well what else are we supposed to do on a girls night? not take our shirts off?’ she looked close to tears by this point and it was impossible to tell if they were real or not.

imogen looked wildly to laudna, who shrugged and gestured for imogen to go ahead.

me? you take your shirt off, imogen sent mentally.

it’s not my tits she wants to see! laudna hissed back, in that strange echoing manner.

‘i’m not takin’ my shirt off,’ imogen said. to both of them, it felt like, with laudna staring wide eyed and imploringly at her as well. ‘that’s fourth date kinda behaviour,’ she continued, and sent laudna a mental spike not to contradict her.

fearne eyed her, and then laudna. a coy smile twisted around her lips. laudna twisted around her pinkie, enthralled by their friend.

‘is that true?’ she asked, tone saccharine. ‘did she wait for your fourth date before whipping out the girls?’

‘oh,’ laudna said, and, ‘i felt like i had been waiting forever to see them,’ she said, and very carefully didn’t look at imogen, nor directly at fearne, who was only a mind reader when it came to things like this.

‘first date?’ she asked, knowingly.

laudna crumpled like tissue paper. ‘yes. the very moment we got to her room.’

‘laudna!’

‘i’m sorry! i haven’t gotten to talk about it to anyone and, darling, it was ever so lovely and i never thought of myself as particularly effusive—‘

‘really?’

‘not when it came to dates and whatnot!’

‘you can tell me everything,’ fearne soothed, patting the spot next to her and then, after a moments thought, her thigh. the blatant flirting with her girlfriend didn’t piss imogen off like she thought it might, though, and fearne must have seen it because she grinned a great grin, a cat with the canary grin, and patted her other thigh with a look to Imogen.

‘you’re incorrigible,’ imogen laughed. ‘and you can tell fearne anything you want, laud. you know? it’s - i love you, you don’t have to keep it a secret.’

laudna folded her hands over her face. peeked through the narrow splits between her fingers. she was very good with secrets. stuffed her feelings beneath the creaking floorboards. slipped tickets and valentine’s into the peeled back of the mirror. imogen hoped one day that would change. they would have a house where she wouldn’t have to hide.

‘i wouldn’t tease,’ fearne said, gently.

‘oh. oh, i know. I don’t -‘ laudna fingers fluttered. ‘i know.’

imogen crept closer to fearne. leaned into her friends side. she was soft and warm and smelled like the garden, like rich earth and flowers. her cheeks were freckled. imogen wanted, not for the first time, to press her lips against her chin where there was a strange lack of freckles. see if she could coax a hot blush to the spot, if the warmth would conjure more of the darling little marks.

‘no more boob spells,’ imogen said firmly.

fearne sighed. ‘i promise. besides, now you’re up close i can see you don’t need it.’

‘isn’t she perfect,’ laudna muttered from behind her hands.

fearne hummed her agreement. her eyes were burning hot, startling. ‘i’ve always thought so.’

imogen stared at her. her thoughts drifted to laudna. can i kiss her cheek? she asked her girlfriend.

of course? laudna returned, confused. you can do whatever you like.

so she did. leaned up from her knees and set her lips against that tempting spot, hand curling around the back of fearne’s neck.

‘oh?’ fearne laughed. ‘i’ll stop so many spells if this is what i get for it!’

imogen pulled back. rubbed her thumb against the same spot, swiping away her lip gloss. ‘it’s not for that. just.’ she probably didn’t think of it the way imogen did. she was fearne. she loved everyone, all the same, didn’t she? ‘we can have girls night whenever you want.’

[gabbbyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy]

I have a theory. Not really a THEORY theory but. Oh my god.

You know the “Dogda” doppelgänger, right. The Dagda one where the first “a” of his name gets replaced with an “o”.

My first thought upon seeing it was “holy shit. Dogda. DOGda. As in DOG!!! That’s funny!!” And then i started looking more into the Design and stuff and. Bro.

I might be looking too much into this. This may be a reach too. But it’s too good of an opportunity to pass up. As the #1 certified Dagda Crom Cruach fan I MUST DELIVER

Observe.

Notice how Dagda, in some aspects of his design. Resembles a small dog almost. I have no say, nor any idea if this was intentional, that’s for Nacho Sama to disclose, but if this WAS indeed intentional, then holy shitttt I’m gonna go cuckoo crazy.

Another thing i wish to point out is Dogs, and their significance, as well as symbolism, in mythology.

And what do Scarecrows do? (Given Dagda is one, a Soul Scarecrow to be exact)

-Protect crops from crows

-Marks farmland territory, somewhat.

-(linked to Dagda only), resides in the Astral Circle, scaring off souls. Acting almost as a guardian.

Again, this may be a reach as well, but bear with me.

With Dagda’s occupation being listed in game to be “Soul Scarecrow”, and that he “Scares souls” as stated in not only certain Entry Requests, but even in one of his absence excuses.

This could, aside from the duties of the typical scarecrow, be associated with guard dogs. Protecting and scaring off potential predators away from people or places.

(With “Potential predators” being Souls, and the “People or Places” being the Nightmares, and the Astral Circle.)

This may even pick up on the “Small Dog” stereotype, with Dagda, having implied to be short + appearing much less threatening/have a less aggressive aura than the other Nightmares. Given his size and face—as well as his job literally being to scare souls.

With that being said. Ty for coming to my Gabby talk. Dagda is Puppycoded in a literal sense + i got the proof to back it up. Until next time buh byeee

TL:DR Dagda Crom Cruach was partially based on/designed off of Dogs, and may be the Astral Circle’s “guard dog”

[strwbmei1]

cw: dom gn!reader, reader is part of the astral express crew, corruption, march 7th is a virgin, praising, pet names, fingering, guided masturbation

After finishing a mission, you returned to the express and got greeted by an unfamiliar face. One that was quite cute; if you do say so yourself. Apparently, her name was March 7th.

You two hit it off immediately; her cheerful demeanor complimented you perfectly. Having sleepovers, movie nights, or just hanging out in general was a common occurrence for the two of you.

Of course, the topic of romance coming up was inevitable. Much to your surprise, March wasn't knowledgeable— at all. Well, when you think of it, it did kind of make sense.

March 7th spent what you presumed to be centuries floating in space in an ice block; of course she wouldn't know about these things.

Being the good friend that you are, you wanted to ruin teach her. For the purpose of her own safety, of course— it'd be a shame if someone were to take advantage of her innocence..

NSFW after the cut !

One thing led to another, and now here you are; teaching your best friend how to masturbate.

"Is this.. good?" March asks, trembling fingers rubbing slow circles on her clit as you watch her with a lustful look in your eyes. "Mhm.. you're doing so well, March."

As much as you'd love to ravish her this second, you enjoyed the sight of her legs spread; pink locks of hair sticking to her forehead as her other hand covered her mouth.

You lick your lips as the girl in front of you struggles to keep quiet. "Next, I want you to finger yourself. Could you do that for me, baby?" She gulped at the nickname, nodding silently.

It was so adorable— how eager March was to please; how eager she was for your praise. She spread her legs wider, giving you the perfect view. A shaky sigh left her mouth as a finger disappeared into her sopping cunt; her head falling back in pleasure as she tried to get used to the sensation.

Slowly after, she started moving her fingers in and out; small gasps and moans escaping her as wet squelching sounds filled the room.

You were starting to get impatient. The show was entertaining— but it wasn't enough. Not to mention the way March was completely ignoring your presence; too focused on her own satisfaction.

"Do you want me to help?" March nodded absentmindedly, now practically riding her fingers. She was so innocent only a few minutes ago; pure and untouched. Yet, it only took you a few words and lingering touches to turn her into a desperate mess chasing for her own release.

If her eyes weren't half-lidded from the pleasure, perhaps she would've seen the sadistic grin on your face.

You quickly sit behind March, taking her hand away from her cunt. She whined at the lack of stimulation, bucking her hips towards you on instinct. "Don't worry, baby. I'll make you feel good.'

Her wrist is small— the perfect size to guide her to orgasm as you feel her body tremble at the slightest touches. Had you been doing this from the start, surely she would've had cum atleast two or three times already.

You use your own digits to spread her lips; gathering her slick as you do so. Then, you guide her fingers and slowly insert two of them— making sure to savor her moans and the steady rise and fall of her chest.

Even though they were still March's fingers; somehow, it felt like they were going deeper than before. The girl couldn't help but gulp as she imagined how it would feel if you were the one pleasuring her instead.

Whimpers and moans escaped her mouth as she felt herself get closer to release. "T-there's something coming- I can't..!" She tried to cover her mouth with her free hand; but you quickly took it away. "Want to hear you, March."

Small cries of your name left her mouth as she bucked her hips forward. "Just like that... Are you gonna cum? Gonna cum for me?" Your thumb reached out to rub on her clit; finally pushing her towards the edge with a loud moan.

Her body spasmed with pleasure as she had her first orgasm; your fingers continuing their work to help her through her high. Though, as you were about to pull away, March kept your hands in place and looked at you with desperate eyes. "Again..?"

Oops, looks like you got her addicted.

———————————————

╰┈➤ Taglist ; @blue-spices , @fvrina

[thesecretnight]

In Your Arms (Dan Heng x GN! Reader)

It’s been a lot lately. The mental and emotional stress is showing in your every movement: your hesitant smiles, unfocused gaze, and sluggish body language. When you least expect it, especially in your happiest moments, it decides to hit you all at once.

You feel like the universe has something against you and you’re proven correct every single time. For some reason, all your problems decided to explode on you within a week. You were doing so well but everyone and everything seems to hate you. 

All you wanted was for the world to stop for a moment to let you scream and cry, expressing your sadness, anger, and exhaustion. You thought you were doing well in hiding what you feel on the inside but nothing passes by Dan Heng.

When it comes to you, he is always observant. Stoic and kind, he shows his affection and concern in his own ways. Noticing your diminishing energy, he reminded you.

“I’ll be looking through the data bank. If you need me, just knock.” 

The Astral Express Crew just decided which planet to go to next and he is off to get some information about the new environment. Anyone who knew him, they’d know that the second half of his words are for you. The crew can only do so much to keep you comfortable and happy. Dan Heng is the only one you could show your vulnerable side to. 

A few hours later, Dan Heng hears a knock and he lets you in. Not saying a word, he slides the door close behind you. You can only give him a weak smile and that was the only answer he needed. With no hesitation, he gently holds your hand and leads you to his bed.

You both sat down with Dan Heng’s back against the wall and with you between his legs, body facing toward him. Then, he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you close and his other hand gently held your head, pushing your face to his shoulder. 

Shaking, you wrap your arms around his back and the dam broke. 

You can almost hear Dan Heng let out a sigh of relief, finally seeing you let it all go for a moment. You try to muffle your cries but your trembling body and hiccups betrayed you. All these negative emotions built up so quickly and the pain you feel wasn’t surprising. It was suffocating. The ache continues to squeeze the air out of your lungs. 

Your head pounds while you listen to your heartbeat. There’s a light ringing in your ears and you can feel the world circle around you. It never gets easier. No matter how many times, the pain remains the same or worsens. 

You were no stranger to moments like this. But this time, you’re in someone’s warm embrace. The calm beating of his heart and his comforting scent covers you like a blanket. The slender fingers slowly running through your hair, and his protective arm on your back… it helps a lot.

You don’t know how much time has passed. Your heart slowly calms, the pounding in your head decreases, and your cries die down. You took deep breaths, in and out, getting yourself together. 

“Better?” 

“Yes but let me use your shoulder a bit longer. I look ugly.”

You can hear him roll his eyes at your dramatic words but he stayed silent, letting you take your time. Several minutes later, you finally remove your face from his damped shoulder and you were greeted with gentle eyes and a warm hand holding your cheek, touching you as if you’d shatter.

The both of you stared at each other for a while, his thumb brushing under your eyes to wipe away any excess tears and his occupied arm pulling you closer. 

“Thank you.”

“It’s not something you should thank me for. It’s only natural.” 

Meaning, he didn’t feel obligated to do all of this. He will always rush to your side every time you feel down. He will be your pillar as you are his. The two of you had come so far to get to this point, and he would be damned if he kept his eyes off you for even a second. 

“Who knew our Dan Heng was a smooth talker?” You let out a laugh as he pokes your sides. 

With another stare, you gently shook your head. It was a silent question if you want to talk about it and he replies by placing a soft kiss on your forehead. He doesn’t mind if you’ll tell him or not. Your comfort is his priority. 

As long as he’s able to hold you in his arms, to hug you, to feel you, to support you, to love you with his entire being, then that’s all that matters. 

As long as you’re breathing and smiling, as long as you always come home to him, he’d do anything for you. 

Anything to give you the happiness and love you deserve. 

[rea-grimm]

Second chance 1

Doctor Stephen Strange has to guard the mini-reality for eternity to keep it from going into multi-verse. However, Watcher takes pity on him after a while, and after watching a few events, decides to give him a second chance for a happy ending. He sends him to another dimension that has lost its wizard. The Doctor will not have it easy, however, as he will be watched over by a you who has the gift of hearing and communicating with the Watcher. Stephen doesn't know if this is his second chance or just a cruel punishment.

You've had trouble sleeping for as long as you can remember. Either you've had nightmares about dying or you've been astral traveling across the galaxy. 

You never knew where your dreams would take you or what to expect. You didn't expect to find yourself somewhere far away where no living creature was supposed to go. 

You found yourself in a very dark place that felt very cold. It was quite dark, and you thought you saw a figure crouched there, looking like a human from a distance. 

Slowly, like a ghost, you approached him. No one ever saw you. You were a ghost. Only he raised his head and his eyes buried themselves in you. You thought he saw you. 

The man reached out his hand to you, but it turned into a tentacle that almost reached you. You flinched a few feet away and the tentacle missed you by a fraction. 

From a distance you watched as the man's face grotesquely changed in a sort of shock and pity from human to some sort of monster pieced together from parts of other mosnsters. 

You had no idea what happened next as you returned to your body and woke up. However, when you fell asleep again, you had dreams of death again, or you kept returning to the strange creature. 

When you visited it for the umpteenth time, you realized what its expression and demeanor gave off. He must have been so alone in that void. After the fifth visit, he even started talking to you. You could see his lips moving, but it was like watching a silent movie. 

🟉-🟉-🟉-🟉-🟉

Stephen Strange looked forward to each of your visits. You may not have spoken to him, but at least he didn't feel so alone. Watcher visited him now and then, but in the meantime he was so lonely and longed for even a little contact with someone. 

He was slowly losing his mind there when you saved him. But your visits had suddenly stopped, and he was beginning to wonder if you were just a figment of his imagination, or if he was going crazy. 

He was disturbed from his madness by the Watcher, who had missed almost nothing in the universe and decided to give the wizard a new lease on life. He had served his time from the big one and felt that it might lead to something good. 

Strange was moved to another universe and was to remain there with one more roommate. That roommate was you. Stephen looked familiar, but you had no idea where he was from. You thought you'd seen him somewhere before. 

You met him and you showed him his new room, where he would now live. Apparently, this world wasn't much different from his old one. Only instead of the usual pets like dogs and cats, there were magical creatures. 

🟉-🟉-🟉-🟉-🟉

You often avoided sleep because of your dreams and very often found yourself on the balcony where you had chairs and where you watched the sky. You closed your eyes and thought you heard the music of the spheres. 

Your contemplation was interrupted by your new roommate, who had perhaps even bigger circles under his eyes than you did. He had some concern written all over his face, but he never told you what was bothering him. 

Stephen sat down next to you and together you sat there watching the sky. It became a sort of habit between the two of you, where you would meet there and slowly start to talk. You talked about all sorts of things, and you began to look forward to your nightly conversations. 

You even confided in him about your sleeping problems. The magician offered to help you with it, but you turned him down. This was something you wanted to handle on your own. Stephen didn't force you into anything and rather told you that he thought it was admirable.

🟉-🟉-🟉-🟉-🟉

Stephen was in his study when he heard the screams. He was immediately on his feet and went to find out what had happened. He found you in the hallway training Wolpertinger. It was a mythical animal that resembled a rabbit that was over a foot in size, had deer antlers, bird wings and long saber-toothed fangs instead of the classic rabbit's fangs. 

This creature was called a Wolpie. The Wolpie would run around like a speeding missile and come at you. It didn't listen to you at all. As soon as Wolpie noticed Strange, she ran up to him with a growl and bit into his leg. 

You ran after her, trying to pull her away from the magician. As soon as Wolpie let go of him, you grabbed her by the fur coat and reprimanded her sternly. Wolpie was still a cub and still learning. 

Wolpie then hopped away and you apologized to Stephen, you wanted to treat the bite but he had already healed it with magic. You apologized several times, but he just waved it off, saying it was nothing. Something like that couldn't hurt him. 

🟉-🟉-🟉-🟉-🟉

You finally had some time off and decided you wanted to try baking something. You had two recipes picked out and you couldn't decide which you wanted to make more. You hadn't made either of the desserts yet, but as much as you thought about it, you couldn't decide. 

That's why you went to Stephen to help you choose. After all, you wanted to share and make others happy. 

"What would you like? Creme brulee or cheesecake? I haven't had either and I'd like to try baking it," you asked him, showing him pictures of both desserts.

Stephen looked at you as if he had seen a ghost and memories of Christine and his last moments with her flashed through his mind. He even began to tremble slightly. 

"I guess it's nothing. Are you okay?" You asked him with concern. Stephen clutched at his hand, which began to twist strangely under his clothes. You wanted to find out what was wrong with him when he used the spell to throw you out of the room and slam the door. 

You left him alone and didn't pry any more, even though you were worried about him. Eventually, you weren't even in the mood to bake anything and instead went back to your room to see Wulpie.

🟉-🟉-🟉-🟉-🟉

It was a day like any other. You were training Wulpie again. You had a dream of entering some competitions with her one day. As you trained her, Wulie became nervous to the point of aggression. She started growling at you and before you could calm her down, she bit you on the arm. 

You scolded her before wrapping a piece of cloth around your hand to stop the bleeding. You didn't want to go to the hospital, but you were sure it was at least a stitch. But no one's gonna get you to a hospital. Only over your dead body.

You thought for a moment about what to do next when you remembered that Stephen had once confided in you that he was a doctor. That seemed like the perfect solution and you headed for his room.

"You were a doctor, weren't you?" You asked when he opened the door after knocking. Stephen nodded in agreement, looking at you with incomprehension. Your hand was hidden behind your back, so he couldn't know what was going on. When you showed him the wound from the Wulpie, he was horrified. 

"I wasn't that kind of doctor. I was a neurosurgeon. I'll take you to the hospital," he said, about to create a portal. You immediately took a step back from him.

"It's okay... it's not that bad... I'll treat it myself," you replied, and were about to leave when he stopped you. 

"Wait!" And canceled the portal. "It'll be quicker if I heal it with a spell," he said, and you saw how relieved you were at his words. 

The wizard took you to his room, where you sat on his bed. He sat down on the opposite side and took your injured hand. Golden seals appeared around your hand and the wound began to heal right before your eyes. 

Instead of the wound, however, you looked at the wizard and how he was concentrating. You always admired him when he did magic. This world may have had fantastic creatures, but magic was not something that just anyone could master. 

1, 2, 3, 4

[draconiclotus]

@malumae | continued

❝ You would know if I was being sarcastic, Blade. ❞

Dan Heng's lips pressed together into a thin line. He inhaled deeply and slowly breathed out. Blade's words sounded civil enough. But the Mara within him, telling the former foragemaster to kill him, was always going to be bubbling close to the surface. Because he was Dan Feng's reincarnation. He had to take all the man's sin's and crimes onto his own shoulders. That included everything that had happened to Blade.

He noted how the other man's eyes followed his movements. It made him slightly more on edge. But it was something that he was trying to learn to ignore. It didn't mean that Blade was going to fly off the handle again and try to kill him.

The dragon cocked an eyebrow at the smug grin Blade was showing off. As if he had won the biggest prize at Penacony. He too though kept eye contact with the other man, watching as he circled around him like that of a vulture circling their recently scavenged prey.

He and Dan Feng were NOT the same person. The dead man haunted him enough as it was. He didn't need the Stellaron Hunter to continue to do so. This had to stop at some point. It just had to, if Blade didn't stop it himself, Dan Heng would.

❝ Why wouldn't I be here? I was invited. I am a member of the Nameless. The Astral Express was invited. ❞

[riobhca-of-the-north]

Some more cut content relating to Lae'zel :D The Intermezzo/end of Act 2 fight against the githyanki was supposed to play out much differently. Instead of fighting some of Orpheus' honour guard before you enter the Astral Prism to finish them off, you would instead meet Voss! Part of this was moved to the encounter you have with him the first long rest you do after clearing the Creche in Act 1.5. Voss would turn up at your camp riding his red dragon, creating a circle of flame surrounding the party. Way to make an entrace, Voss!

He would then explain about Orpheus and try to convince Lae'zel/the party to join his rebellion against Vlaakith. However, he would be then interupted by several githyanki appearing through a portal... lead by a cut character called Fahra, Vlaakith's Hand. She would have been an Inquisitor of Vlaakith. She would have sounded extremly devoted to Vlaakith (the dev notes state that she would have been "frothing" at the bit at Voss, and would become increasingly "deranged" while talking about Vlaakith and the need to kill Orpheus). You would have to side with either Voss or Fahra. No matter who you chose to side with, you would have to fight a dragon (!!!!), either Voss setting his red dragon on you if you sided with Fahra, or Fahra dominating Voss' dragon and setting it on you if Voss was chosen. It's a shame it was cut - you only get to fight two dragons in the entire game (Ansur and the red dragon on top of the Netherbrain). I guess this was cut because going from Ketheric -> a dragon fight back to back might have been a little much. If Fahra was sided with and you killed Voss, she would demand the Astral Prism from you. You could convince her that you needed it to fight the Absolute, and she'd leave you alone. Otherwise, you'd have to fight her to keep the Astral Prism. If Voss was sided with, he'd be chilling in your camp to tell you lore about Orpheus and fighting against Vlaakith's gith. Kinda like Nightsong/Duke Ravenguard in final. Only placeholders here through. :(

It looks like you would have went into the Astral Prism after the Voss/Fahra fight. I'm not sure where the Emperor reveal is in relation to these scenes, or if this was written with EA Daisy in mind.

The dialouge here in the not-addressed-to-Lae'zel side (sorry this is clunky, I can't think of a better way to put it!) seems finished - with only Shadowheart having a placeholder talking about the Mother Superior wanting the Astral Prism. Unfortunatly the Lae'zel origin side is all placeholder. I haven't looked into the voice files for this (if they exist!) but the flags that are set here aren't called anywhere else that I can see.

Anyone who's better than me looking through files that aren't text, feel free to have a wee look! I'm very interested in anything related to this. I'm still learning to navigate unpacked game files :D Fahra isn't mentioned anywhere else in the dialouge files which is a shame.

Thank you once again for reading this wall of text, and I hope you all are having a wonderful day, no matter where you are! :D

Filenames: INT_GithyankiAmbush_VossDecision_OM_Laezel_COM

INT_GithyankiAmbush_VossDecision_OM_Laezel_AOM

INT_GithyankiAmbush_VlaakithsHandAfterCombat_OM_Laezel_AOM_OOM

INT_GithyankiAmbush_VlaakithsHandAfterCombat_OM_Laezel_COM

CAMP_Voss