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manicmanuscription · 1 month ago

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The Right Time

Feysand x Reader

Word Count: 2501

Warnings: Angst, Possible Medical Inaccuracies, Fluff, Love Confessions, Delirium, Lack of Sleep, Depression? Panicking, Dissociation.

Summary: Reader is a new single mom, and she pushed away her only support system determined to prove she could do it on her own. But on a bad sleeping night she's slipping. Luckily her mates friends are there to pick her up.

A/N: I've been really obsessed with baby/pregnancy fic's lately due to baby fever, but I have never actually been pregnant before so a lot of this stuff is based on information from family members or other fanfic's. So a lot of this might not be correct. This fic has also been playing in my head after a shit ton of pregnancy fics i read so there might be grammatical errors!

You didn’t know what you expected your life to be when you were just a faeling but it certainly wasn’t like this…

Living in a small cottage nestled in the countryside of Velaris, a wailing baby in your arms, bags under your eyes, no ring on your finger and no baby daddy in sight. Your house was an absolute mess but you didn’t have the energy or time to clean, you would’ve hired a maid but ever since your daughter was born a few weeks ago your paranoia had skyrocketed. It didn’t help that you were a valued member of the Inner Circle and not only had your life been threatened numerous times but you had been attacked just as many.

You never expected it to be this hard though. Andromeda was squealing at the top of her lungs and you were sobbing right along with her. Rocking her up and down and desperately trying to figure out what was wrong. Not only were you still recovering from your intense labor and your homones all over the place but it was impossible to get any sleep, if your lovely daughter wasn’t having difficulty latching and by some miracle she had fallen asleep for longer than forty five minutes than you were staring at the wall cooconed in blankets a deep sense of dread overcoming every sense in your body made it diffuclt to fall asleep.

Anxiety kept your eyes awake at the thought that something would go wrong the second you let yourself relax. Your body would pass out from sheer exhaustion and Andromeda’s cries would awaken you and you started the whole song and dance over again.

You were so, so, tired. Your mind had you seeing shadows moving across the floor and you could barely stand up straight. It was a miracle that fae get pregnant, conception taking years at a time and even then the pregnancy and labor extremely diffuclt, a lot of fae not surviving the process. You knew you were incredibley lucky to have a daughter, to have the chance to hold her and you loved her fiercely with ever fiber in your being yet you couldn’t help but regret everything.

You wished you never went to that club, never met that male, you wished that male had stayed instead of running in the opposite direction and you wished to all gods that you hadn’t pushed away your only support system, determined to prove you could do it on your own.

Your family had been a shining star during all of this. Especially your High Lady and Lord, Rhysand and Feyre knew the deep intracies of pregnancy better than most after everything they had been through with Nyx.

Theey had stuck to your side the second they learned you were pregnant. Taking turns holding your hair back as you violently threw up from intense morning sickness, got all your cravings the second you mentioned it, held your bump when the weight started hurting your back or rubbed your feet when your ankles swelled.

They even forced you to stay at their house for weeks at a time so they could take care of you and when you insisted you were becoming a burden and returned home they had made themselves comfortable on your couch before you felt guilty and returned to the River House if only to save their spines.

You had tried pulling away from them, guilt eating you alive every second of your pregnancy. Their actions didn’t help the absolute massive crush you had on them, in fact it only increased your adoration for them which made you shame spiral. The second your daughter was born you knew you couldn’t continue leaning on them for support, it only hurt you at the end of the day when you remembered they were mated, they had each other and a son and despite their overly flirty comments and lingering touches that just ended up causing more confusion. There was no room for you, you couldn’t keep pining after them when you needed to focus on Andromeda.

You told them you needed space, practically shoving them out the door even after they had spent 18 hours holding your hand’s and helping you deliver your beautiful daughter. Of course they had straight up refused your attempt to push them away and stayed with you a few days after labor, helping take care of you during the harsh after effects. But you finally kicked them out throwing out some cruel word’s that would haunt you to this day. Andromeda needed her mother to be present and emotionally healthy and you couldn’t provide that if you keep second guessing and overthinking every brush against your hand or every comment about your eyes.

You could do this, you had to do this. You needed to be the best mother you could be for your little star.

Yet you couldn’t even do that because she would not. stop. crying. The sound shredded your heart to pieces and guilt and shame turned the shattered bits of you to dust. She was fed, clean and warm and you couldn’t figure out why she kept crying. The thought made you feel like a horrible mother and you let out another sob at the same time as Andromeda as you bounced her up and down, forcing your numb feet to pace the room. “Please, please just go to sleep.” You begged. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” Your voice cracked and you spiraled at the scream she let out.

You couldn’t do this.

It was too hard, you were a horrible friend and an even worse mother and you didn’t deserve this little miracle in your arms. A better female would be able to handle it. You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t-

“Oh Angel.” A soft voice broke and you turned to find Feyre and Rhys standing there, you opened your mouth to say something but Rhys was moving the instant your eyes met their’s. As soon as he was a breath away from you he reached for Andromeda, saying something about help yet the words were distorted and muffled in your exhaustive state, soft arms gripped your shoulders and you almost fell over at the weight of your baby being removed as Rhysand gently pried her away from you and into his arms, a smile gracing his elegant features.

You were too tired to fight, to do anything to protest as Feyre led you away from the bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom. She was saying something too but you didn’t hear it, all your last remaining energy focused on listening for Andromeda, making sure she was ok. Feyre titled your chin to look up at her and she pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. Your mind suddenly sharpening as her magic brushed against your mental walls as she forced you to listen to her. “She’ll be fine Sweetheart, Rhys has got her, now let me take care of you.”

Everything felt so far away as if you were dreaming, moving through life in a haze as Feyre gently undressed you and settled you in a warm bath. She washed your hair and body and massaged your shoulders, whispering word’s of comfort that did not reach you as you floated away from your body. She fed you fruit and cheese’s your body chewing the food on autopilot. When was the last time you ate?

The food and Feyre constantly touching you slowly brought you back down to earth. To the reality of your hunger, your tiredness, how sore all your muscles were and to the lack of Andromeda crying, you could hear Rhysand humming lowly through the crack in the door and the occasional creak of the floorboards as he calmed your daughter down. The thought had tears lining your eyes again. “She hates me.” You whimpered and Feyre brushed your tears away with the pads of her thumbs. “No she doesn’t.” Feyre she affirmed confidently.

You shook you head in disagreement. “I can’t do anything right Fey, I said all those nasty things to you a-and I couldn’t even get her to sleep, and I’m so tired. I wasn’t cut out for this alright? I’m going to fuck her up so badly, I’ll ruin everything.” You were sobbing again, a broken sound tearing from your throat and the sound looked like it physically pained her. “Andromeda adores you alright love? We can all see it, she never looks at anyone the way she looks at you. Your so attuned to her, you love her so fiercely and that’s the most important part. Your doing your amazing love. You’re not going to fuck anything up. You’re an amazing female and you’re an amazing mother. I forgive you, so does Rhys. We just want to make sure your ok.”

You let the words sink in, your heart beating wildly out of her chest as you cried at the tenderness of her words. “Why are you dong this to me?” You asked brokenly, you felt as if they were pulling you in all different directions. “Why are you saying all of these things when-“ when you’re mated. Were the unspoken words. But you couldn’t say that, you’d never say that and ruin whatever pieces of friendship you had.

“When what?” Feyre asked softly as she stroked your damp hair.

“When- I- I-“ You stuttered not knowing what to say as your mind panicked at the close confession you’d almost made. “Why are supporting me like this.” You instead asked, needing to know why they had stayed so close to your side and pulled at your heart strings so violently. “Just..why Feyre? Go home, to your son. I’ll be fi-“

“If you finish that sentance I swear to the gods-“ Rhysand exhaled heavily from the now open doorway,. “Rhys.” Feyre warned but he brushed her off as he crossed the room and kneeled in front of the bathtub, gripping your face in between his large hands. “Do you not see how much we love you? How much we care for you. I think we have made it obvious Angel. You are our mate. Just please- please let us help you.” The last part sounded like a desperate plea, a whine leaving his lips and you didn’t have it into you to be shocked that the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court were kneeling beside you, begging. your heart froze at the love confession.

“Wait…What?” You asked slowly, waiting for them to tell you this was all a big joke. You couldn’t believe this, you couldn’t let yourself hope. Feyre was giving Rhysand an annoyed glare but at your voice she turned to you, her expression to shifting to one of hope. “You are our mate darling.” She whispered, entertwining a tattooed hand with your’s, water dripping onto the rug, reminding you that were naked in a bathtub and an embarrassed flush crept up your cheeks.

“And we love you.” Rhys added once again, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“We didn’t want to tell you like this, especially not right now.” Feyre added with a pointed tone, giving her - your - mate another glare. The High Lord just rolled his eyes. “I’m tired of waiting for the right time Feyre.”

You were pretty sure your heart was beating a milllion miles per hour and you couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle that turned into a delirous laugh. Their brows furrowed and expressions shifted to something more broken at that and you immediately apologized as you gasped for breath in between your laughter. “I- just.” Your voice cracked as you started talking, regaining some wisdom. “Do you know how long I’ve been in love with the two of you?” You whispered, your voice coming out in a high pitched tone as you tried to get it out all in one breath. “I felt so guilty-“ Lips crashed onto yours. The addicting scent of lilac and pear completely invading your senses as your gorgeous mate kissed you. Fireworks exploded in your chest and all of a sudden it felt like you could breath again.

You felt as if you had arrived home as you finally allowed yourself to recognize the glowing bond in your chest instead of gaslighting yourself and pushing it down. It was overwhelming to feel the surge of emotions on your mates side and exhilarating all at the same time. Feyre moaned as your tugged on her bottom lip possessively. Soon her lips trailed down your neck and shoulder and a new set of lips met your own.

Rhysand was different than Feyre yet just as addicting as his tongue clashed against yours, immediately taking control of the kiss.

After a few more minutes of your mate’s overwhelmingly beautiful touch and you finally pulled away, panting hard. “What..What about Andromeda?” You asked timidly, knowing you would put her above yourself always, if they didn’t want another child than you couldn’t do this. Couldn’t allow yourself to hope only to crash and burn later.

Rhysand hummed softly, taking one of your hands and kissing the inside of your wrist. “What about her darling?”

“Do…you still want me? She’s not your-“

Feyre gripped your chin firmly once again, directing your eyes to hers. “Andromeda is ours just as much as Nyx is.”

“Your ours, Andromeda is ours. Nothing is going to change that.” Rhys agreeded with just as much conviction os Feyre. You almost started crying once again, completely overwhelmed by the revelations of the night and Feyre hummed softly as they both remembered why they were here in the first place. To take care of you and their daughter. Rhysand got up and grabbed a fluffy bath robe and you don’t remember buying and Feyre helped you out of the bath stealing a quick kiss from you. “There’s still so much we have to do and talk about.” You mentioned as Rhys slid your arms into the robe. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “We can talk later, let’s get you into bed Sweetheart.” You could feel the adrenaline from the night starting to wear off as Feyre led you to the bedroom. Your daughter finally snoring softly in the crib next to the bed.

They dressed you in your favorite PJ’s and each pressed a kiss to your lips before tucking you in the bed, Rhys magically changing the sheets with a snap of his fingers.

Feyre snuggled in beside you, running her nails along your spine and Rhys sat on the end, massaging your sore feet as they forced the usual dread and anxiety away and for the first time in weeks you allowed yourself to finally relax at your mate’s gentle touch, your body completely melting underneath them. One hand gripping your daughter’s finger through the bars of her crib and one hand holding onto Feyre’s as you drifted off to sleep

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lovelybluebirdie · 1 year ago

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The astonishing failure of a simple plan

Astarion x f!Reader

Summary: Astarion tries to wrap his head around you, when a sudden tumult in camp occurs.

[AO3]

The concept of altruism had always been quite strange to Astarion.

Doing something solely for benefiting others, without one's own needs primarily in mind – how outrageously foolish.

And yet, he caught himself considering the idea more often since he had met you.

You, the soft-hearted soul who always seemed to stumble directly into the next best opportunity to solve the problems of complete strangers that would cross your way – gladly interfering with any sort of personal drama.

Although you and the rest of your travel companions had been infected with a tadpole to the brain, leaving you in desperate need for a cure to this rather urgent condition, somehow you would always manage to save a child from getting gruesomely killed by harpies, pick a fight with a powerful hag to rescue some random woman you just met or annihilate an entire camp full of goblins to ensure safe travels for a bunch of Tieflings – without at least demanding a proper compensation for all your troubles.

You just did those things, and it drove Astarion mad.

Perhaps one of the reasons for your undeniable saviour complex were the recurring thoughts that plagued you. You had once explained it as particularly dark urges, the impulse to hurt and kill spreading its roots inside your brain, evolving into a yearn to act out the most gruesome visions one could imagine. Gloriously kill an innocent to bathe in their blood, crush a squirrel to death with your bare fists or rip off a stranger's hand in need of help – malicious ideas that would otherwise never cross your mind.

The origin of these unwanted desires were unknown to you, but you sensed that it had to be connected to your past somehow – a part of you that had yet to be completely revealed. Of course, you had sworn to give everything in your might to resist them. And luckily for the life of your travel companions, you were mostly able to succeed.

Regardless of these murderous tendencies coming with your affliction, you were still the kindest person Astarion had ever met. A contradiction in itself, and yet you were – well, you.

Lately, Astarion had caught himself just perceiving you.

Taking in your soft expression as you were mindlessly humming a song to yourself, sitting barefoot by the river, hands elbow-deep in the cold water to wash your clothes, sticking this stupid little melody to his head for the rest of the day.

While resting at camp, he had watched you reading – one of your favourites, the lexicon of bird species in Faerûn – a terribly boring topic, but you seemed to indulge in the lengthy descriptions of a blue jay’s wingspan. You would fetch Astarion a caught smile between slowly turned pages, eyes half-closed, before eventually dozing off in the flickering light of the fire. He had barely been fast enough to catch the edges of your slipping book, saving it from landing in the dirt.

The other day, he noticed you carefully picking flowers from the road, acting like it was the most important task on your schedule. Later, you would sit in silence, brows furrowed in concentration and hands busy with knotting them into a beautiful headband. A gift for Karlach, since you had sensed that she hadn’t been too well on this particular day.

A sickeningly sweet gesture.

And yet, so typically you. Affectionate, always looking after your dearest companions.

He remembered the feeling of you casually squeezing his shoulder after an exhausting battle, the concerned look you would give him as you noticed that he had been injured, and how you insisted on treating his wounds with the utmost care, not leaving his side before you made sure his bleeding had entirely stopped.

There was the sensation of your fingers gently forming circles through his white curls, while he had buried his fangs deep inside your neck, greedily gulping down the blood you had been willingly offered to him. The quickening of your pulse, the little shivers your body would give away as he was feeding on you.

Your thumb shyly placed against his brow, the tender movement as you traced his features. The sincerity in your voice as you described the outlines of his face to him, after he had shared with you that his lack of reflection had turned the image of his own appearance into a dark shape from his past. Profane vanity was all he had initially seeked from you that evening, listening to you calling him beautiful and stroking his ego, and yet there had been a certain intimacy resonating in that moment. You had described to him what the world would see when it looked at him – what you would see.

Astarion groaned and pulled his blanket up to his chin, almost covering his bottom lip with the thin woollen fabric.

Gods, how you irritated him.

How you had infested his mind with your nauseating goodness.

When you first met, Astarion had decided that precisely this outstanding character trait of yours should be your undoing.

You offered an easy prey, he had thought to himself in a blissful glee, as he imagined all the ways in which he would bargain your trust.

Luring and deceiving were practically moulded into him, therefore charming you appeared as easy as picking the lock on a broken chest. In order to survive under his former master Cazador, he had become an unwilling adept in these abilities.

Astarion flinched as the memory of his ruthless tormentor reentered his mind. Cazador had turned him into a vampire spawn almost two centuries ago and made him his slave, forcing him to a life in complete darkness and made him use his body to bring more than thousands of victims to him.

In order to deceive you, Astarion had formed a rather simple plan: Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you would never turn on him – old habits that cemented over the past centuries had kicked in.

Therefore, it should have been easy with you. Instinctive. Following a pattern of studied behaviour, throwing his best lines at you until you would breathe his name between tousled sheets - leaving your body aching for him and trusting him unconditionally.

All he had to do was follow this nice little plan of his, deepening the selfish bond he aimed to create between the two of you in order to secure his safety. To get you on his side.

It should have been nothing more than an insurance. A simple transaction, so to speak: His honeyed words for your protection. Performing an act, yourself delightfully unaware of your leading role in this little play of his.

Well, and what else could it ever be? After all, manipulating others in order to get something out of them was the only way he had ever known.

And yet: with you, things had somewhat felt entirely different.

At least, his plan had evidently borne fruit by now: Not only were you voluntarily offering your blood to help him with his cravings after he had revealed his past of being a vampire spawn, you had also sworn to help him finding out the meaning of the scars on his back and dealing with Cazador when the time would come.

Still, instead of savouring his accomplishment he found himself distracted with his attempts to wrap his head around you.

Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to peek inside this little skull of yours, picking your brain until he would satisfy his curiosity with you and determine the reason why you were lingering on his mind of late.

He wanted to figure out what made him actually want to listen to the things you had to say, admire your wit when you would share a heartfelt laugh over one of your foolish jokes or why he would seek your company after a night spent in familiar solitude. And even worse: Why in the Hells he had caught himself enjoying how your face would light up after you had saved another unfortunate soul in need on your travels.

Astarion sighed and pushed his fingers to his eyes, hoping that pressing them shut would free him from his vexing thoughts, as a sudden noise distracted him.

The pounding of hurried footsteps and jumbled voices rose outside his tent, growing louder and faster.

He let out another disgruntled sigh.

Gods, what would it be now?

Whoever was roaming around your camp this late at night, screaming like an animal, better had a rightful reason to do so.

His annoyance fell off immediately as he came to understand what the unfamiliar voices were yelling: Your name. Followed by pleas for help.

Before he even comprehended what exactly posed this sudden level of urgency, his feet had already dragged him outside in the dark, a cold breeze brushing against his skin.

“What is going on?” he heard his own voice meddling into the sudden tumult.

Then he spotted you: Arms and legs hanging lifelessly, brought down on your bedding by one of the Harpers he remembered from the Last Light Inn. You were followed by a few other Harpers who positioned themselves around your tent - they were desperately shouting for a healer.

An icy grip twisted Astarion’s chest as he stormed forward to reach you, stomping through mud and dirt.

“Is she hurt?” His voice broke as he saw your face. You were lying on your blanket, eyes rolling behind closed lids, cheeks all flushed and a thin line of sweat forming on your brow. You looked utterly terrible: Weakened and sick, seemingly in a feverish delirium.

Astarion had seen you wounded before, due to blood and gore being in the nature of your journey to free yourself from the tadpoles, but never like this: more dead than alive, not moving a single major muscle.

What in the Nine Hells had happened to you?

Astarion swallowed hard before he found his voice again and turned to the ones who had brought you in.

“What did you do to her?” he hissed, readying himself to grab the Harper next to him by the throat and shake him until his tongue would loosen. “Explain yourself, now!”

Before any of the men could open their agape mouths in response to Astarion’s daunting request, Shadowheart broke the heated atmosphere with a soft push to his shoulder and made way to kneel beside you.

“Let me see her.” She spoke quickly as she felt for your pulse and started to spread her hands protectively over you, encompassing you in a blue radiance. She was already casting a healing spell.

“Your friend, she… she was fighting a shadow creature, and it must have poisoned her,” the Harper that had carried you pressed between quivering lips. “We already sent someone to call for Isobel. She will know what to do.” As he met Astarion’s furious glimpse, he hastily added “They – they should be here any minute.”

Poison? Astarion wrinkled his nose. Indeed, your blood smelled different – somewhat tainted.

He focused his gaze back to you, suppressing the urge to slap that damned Harper straight across the face.

Instead of acting out this violent thought, he sank to his knees next to Shadowheart and carefully laid one hand on your cheek. You were burning hot and letting out ragged breaths between your cracked lips.

“I can cast my spells, but I am not versed in the toxins of the Dark”, Shadowheart declared with the most tensed look on her face, her magic still hovering over your body. “We need Isobel – fast.”

Another twist in Astarion’s chest. He racked his brain for a solution, his hand still held helplessly against your cheek. You were in need of healing, desperately, and more adept than Shadowheart could provide. His senses began to blur.

Through the pulsing sound of blood rushing through his ears he could only gather a few scraps of the enfolding conversation between the Harpers and the rest of your companions that had hurried to your aid.

It was enough to paint a picture of what happened to you: During your night watch, you had noticed a Harper being dragged away in the shadows and went immediately to his aid. With a few quick blows, you had managed to kill the attacking creature and save the unfortunate man from his demise, but for its final act it stroked you with its claw, leaving a deep scratch on your right arm – the source of the suspected poison that would flow through your veins.

Astarion bit the inside of his cheek, spilling blood. His mind was racing.

Of course you had gotten yourself in danger over saving someone else again.

In normal times, he would have loved to tease you for your foolish act of heroism and give you an “I told you so”, probably earning a defiant look from you while you would emphasise the importance of helping those in need.

Hells, he desired nothing more than to listen to your moralising if it meant that he could just hear your voice right now.

But instead of lecturing him on morality, you were still lying on your mattress, unmoving and probably on the verge of death, and he couldn’t think of a single way to rid you of this terrible state.

He felt numb. Useless. It made him sick.

A gut wrenching thought rushed over him.

What if you would die right now – just like that?

Before he could… Well, before he could do what exactly?

The image of your limp lifeless body with dead staring eyes entered his mind.

No. You didn’t deserve to die. You couldn’t die. Not like this. Not now, not ever, not from saving a goddamned Harper.

Then you whimpered.

Silent, almost inaudible, but enough to set Astarion ablaze.

The urge of punishing every single one who had dared to lead you to harm overcame him like a ruthless wave crashing shore. He wanted to cut open, to rip apart and to send everyone into eternal hell.

Fire took over his crimson eyes as he bared his fangs, the look of a predator on his pale face, ready to curse those wretched Harpers or worse, as another quiet sound spilled from your lips.

“As… Astar... ion…?”

He froze.

His name – spoken as gentle as a flicker of moonlight glistening through leaves. Not moaned in lust or used to denounce him in anger – just… him being called, in the most faintest way.

He felt his eyes wet before he even knew it, his mouth opened for a split second only to his lips pressing it shut again, forcing himself to blink before a single tear could make its way down his cheek.

You sounded so fragile. So ... in need of him.

“Asta...rion?”

His chest twisted again.

He wanted to whisper words of comfort to you, chanting them over and over like a prayer, assuring you that everything would be alright.

“Don’t speak,” he managed to breathe in a cracked voice. “I’m here, my sweet.”

Your eyes were still closed and moving fast underneath your lids. You spoke in a fever, and he could sense that you were in pain.

Astarion brushed a strand of hair off your sweaty brow, using just the tips of his slender fingers. A most careful touch, as if a hint of deeper force would break you.

Then, there was no more sound coming from you.

“Hells, where is that goddamned cleric? If she doesn’t arrive here any second, I’m going to drag her over myself-” Astarion’s voice was nothing more than a helpless plea. He sounded way less threatening than he had wished for, almost spilling those tears he had to hold back, and seconds before bursting if there would be no aid for you right now.

“No need to shout, my friend. I’m right here.”

Isobel. Finally.

A fire in his stomach again.

How dared she sound so calm, considering your condition?

With haste, Isobel knelt between him and Shadowheart and opened her pouch, revealing a set of different sized bottles. She began to examine you with concentration, lifting your eyelids to look at your pupils, checking your vitals and thoroughly inspecting the wound the monster had inflicted on you.

Astarion gritted his teeth in anticipation, a thick lump forming in his throat.

“Will she be alright?” he eventually demanded, his voice cracking like a violin out of tune, but Isobel ignored him and silently continued her treatment.

“Astarion, I’m worried about her too, but I think we shouldn’t disturb Isobel right now,” Wyll interfered softly and squeezed his shoulder.

Taken aback, Astarion pressed his lips together. Of course Wyll would be the voice of reason in a situation like this, but unfortunately he wasn’t wrong. Isobel was the most profound healer available, an expert on the shadow creatures - and unlike himself, she offered the possibility to save you.

“As I thought,” Isobel mumbled after a minute that had felt like eternity and opened one of her potions with a loud plop. “She will need this.”

She then put her thumb on your chin, carefully opening your mouth and pouring in a dark liquid, before she continued to clear your wound.

Astarion eagerly watched her hands treating you with expertise, still not laying his gaze off you.

“I gave her a powerful antidote,” Isobel began to explain calmly as she spread a colourless balm on your torn flesh. “Such poison needs fast treatment. Fortunately, if dealt with in time, it can still be cured. I’m glad I was able to aid your dear friend before it made its way through her entire body. Otherwise… It most likely would have been fatal.”

Astarion’s muscles tightened and his stomach turned. You almost died tonight.

Isobel seemed to notice his tension, so she quickly added “With this antidote, she will be completely fine in the morning. Her fever might continue through the night, but I promise that there is no more reason for concern.”

“Are you completely sure of that, Isobel?” Shadowheart asked, seeking out reassurance that the treatment truly had succeeded.

“I swear by Selune, she is not at risk anymore. The antidote freed her from the poison and the balm will heal her wound,” the cleric responded confidently. “Her body will do the rest.”

The tight, dark blanket that had wrapped around Astarion’s chest began to loosen up.

“I… I’m glad that she’ll be alright,” was all he managed to vocalise as the adrenaline slowly faded from his body.

“Thank you, Isobel,” added Gale, who had been nervously walking up and down your tent as Isobel had tended to your condition.

Even Shadowheart, a devoted follower of Lady Shar, spared a few words of gratitude towards the cleric following her sworn enemy’s beliefs.

A general sense of ease took over from the strained atmosphere that had prevailed just a moment ago.

“She needs rest and quiet now,” Isobel claimed and gave a telling look to your companions and the assembly of Harpers that gathered around your tent.

An unspoken demand that it was time to give you some space now.

“I will stay with her,” Astarion announced to Shadowheart and the remaining group after Isobel and the Harpers had left for the Last Light Inn. There had been a quick discussion if you should have been brought with them, but eventually it was decided that you were more safe in your own bedroll than being dragged through the shadow infested lands again.

“Are you sure, Astarion? I’d be more than glad to watch over her myself,” Shadowheart responded, not hiding her surprise over his proposition.

Even if Astarion wasn’t sure about anything in particular right now, he felt the pressing need to remain by your side until you would open your eyes again, ensuring that Isobel had spoken the truth and the threat had passed.

“Well, I won’t be able to get some more rest tonight anyway, so I might as well just stay over here,” he attempted in a more indifferent manner. “Besides, her tent is by far the most comfortable one our excuse for a camp has to offer, and I’m looking forward to indulging in some peace and quiet after all of this night's terrible trouble.”

Karlach listened to his explanation in slight amusement and gave him a supporting nod. Liar, her smiling face said.

“Well, if you’re sure, and there are no objections… Then it’s fine with me, I suppose,” Shadowheart replied with a raised eyebrow. “But promise to shout for me if something’s the matter, will you?”

“Gods, would you please give me some credit here, you mother hen. I got this,” Astarion said and rolled his eyes. On the inside, he was still shaken up, and he could only hope that the slight pitch in his voice wouldn’t give him away. “So hush hush everyone, off you go now. Get in some beauty sleep, as you all are evidently in need of it.”

“Chk!” Lae’zel interfered in the most angry whisper she could muster. “Leave Astarion to look after her for the night if he insists. I’m certain he knows the fate that will await him should she come to harm under his supervision.” Lae’zel’s very own way to express that she came to care about you.

“Charming as ever,” Astarion replied at this implicit threat, still holding no intention to move merely an inch from his spot next to your bedroll.

“You see, Shadowheart? There seems to be no need to worry about our dearest friend,” Gale added with a slight chuckle. “I suppose she’ll be in good hands for tonight.”

Shadowheart let out a grunt and readied herself to leave with the others, but not before she would lay one last gaze on you, ensuring that you had not gotten any worse over the last few minutes.

Astarion watched your chest rise and fall in a soothing rhythm.

What a mess this night had been.

From the moment the Harpers had brought you in it had been like a heavy weight violently crushing his chest over and over, turning him into an angry, scared wreck, and the pressure only began to wear off by now.

Realistically, he knew that you were safe and the danger had passed. But then, why was there such an uneasiness lingering on him?

He had been scared in his life before, probably more times than he could recall, and yet… The fear over losing you tonight had shifted something in him.

You had called for him in your feverish delirium, as you were lying helpless and in pain.

It was an image hard to shake off.

Astarion sighed, when he noticed that you were still in your armour. There was no way in Hell he would let you sleep in this reeking dirt-covered piece of cloth, so his dexterous fingers began to peel it off, piece by piece. Carefully not to wake you, he stored your armour aside, until you were lying in your undergarment. Then he took your blanket and wrapped it around you.

With another gentle motion, he let his finger stroke along your brow, brushing over the dampness of your skin. You were still feeling hot.

His nose wrinkled as he pulled down his sleeve to cautiously wipe your sweat away. There was no need to get up to fetch some extra cloth, and he would be perfectly capable of cleaning his shirt the next morning.

For a while, Astarion would just watch over you, mustering your relaxed face and ensuring that your breathing continued steadily. You seemed to be in a calm sleep, still feverish, but evidently better looking than the moment you had been brought in.

The next morning came to his mind. Perhaps he might attempt to prepare your favourite food for you, a simple but apparently very delicious berry porridge. Not that he had any particular experience on the matter, since his culinary needs were restricted to blood these days, but if someone like Gale was able to cook it, he surely would be too. Maybe he would surprise you with the dog or the owlbear for some morning snuggling in bed, as you seemed to never spend a single day without indulging in some pets on your journey. Well, he probably should bring in both. Oh how delighted you would be, waking up to these furry little beasts, he thought with a grin.

Then it hit him.

Shit.

His nice, simple plan with you had truly and utterly fallen apart.

What should have been nothing more than an insurance for his safety, a way to rid himself of the tadpole in his brain and offer him a powerful ally to face Cazador some day, had developed into something he never experienced before.

He genuinely cared about you - more than he thought himself to be capable of. You had become most precious to him, and he felt the urgent need to be honest with you.

You were incredible, and you didn’t deserve to be lured into a selfish alliance.

You deserved something real.

He wanted things between you to be something real - even if he didn’t know what real looked like. After all, charming and deceiving others was the only way he had ever known. Forming a sincere connection and being close with someone posed an entirely new and remarkably scary sensation. But maybe, with you…

Your faint voice brought him back from his thoughts.

“Asta...rion?”

His face softened, not as an act of will, more like a reflex.

You looked at him with half-open eyes, sounding still a little weak.

He bowed his head closer to you and spoke softly, letting his thumb brush gently over your cheek.

"There you are, my little fool. Getting ourselves in trouble over our constant need to do something heroic again, weren’t we?”

“Mh… Is that so?” you asked in a raspy voice, offering a weak smile through glistening eyes underlined with dark circles, your hair pressed damp to your skull. “And you saved me, I suppose?”

Astarion’s heart grew tight with adoration. To him, you had never looked more beautiful.

“I’m afraid not, my dear. Actually, you have been poisoned by a shadow creature, so you were in need of a more adept healer. Isobel treated you.”

“Mhm.. How bad was it?”

He thought for a moment, the fear he had felt rushing over him for a split second and piercing his chest like ice.

"Well, not as bad as it could have. I’ll spare you the details for tomorrow.”

“That’s… good.” You hummed, sounding drowsy and still a little feverish. Then, you gave a soft plea. “Astarion… Would you… stay with me tonight?”

There it was again, a pull at his heartstrings.

Gods, you wicked little thing.

“Of course, my darling. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

A promise, unimaginable honest had it been another time, with another person, but this was now, and this was you.

He gave another gentle press to your hand, carefully intertwining your fingers with his, as if to underline his words.

"Thank you,” you whispered, eyes closed for a second before you let your gaze meet his again. Another quiet mumble. "Could you... hold me please?"

Astarion was overwhelmed by your vulnerability for a second. He wanted nothing more than to provide you comfort, to make you feel safe, but didn't know if he should give in. Even though you had often shared your bedroll these days, this somehow felt more open, more intimate.

Before he realised what he was doing, he swiftly lifted off your blanket to slip underneath and laid his arm around your waist, pulling you in close.

He could feel your hand on his chest. Your head gently resting on his shoulder, fingers loosely clutching around the end of his collar. Your warm body against his cold.

Astarion let his fingers gently caressing the small of your back.

You were breathing steady, already seeming to doze off again. A soothing calmness came over him.

“I hope… I didn’t worry you too much,” you mumbled, more asleep than awake.

Astarion bit his lip.

“Well…” he said and cleared his throat. “I managed.” A complete understatement of events, but this was also a confession for another day. “Rest now, my love.”

Astarion continued to gently stroke your back, his lips turning into an affectionate smile. He never thought his heart to be this full over the failure of such a simple plan.

Masterlist

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h0neyfreak · 1 year ago

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helping “The Environment” as an individual is such a nebulous and ever changing concept and seems to be very much in the Discourse™️ at the moment so I just want to take a minute to shout into the void with some reminders I gave my enviro students when they got to the “oh dear god we’re all gonna die” phase of the class:

“Individual choices don’t matter” is like. true(?) for climate change (unless you’re a kardashian or CEO or something) but that just means you can’t reusable tote bag your way out of a private jet society. NOT that you can’t have any impact through community initiatives and activism. Advocate for municipal composting and public transit!! Get involved locally!!!!! Write weekly to your representatives! Do whatever you can to get unstuck and scrape together some modicum of hope.

Also on individual choices. There are some that “matter” but be very wary of outsized benefits promised for seemingly small choices (e.g. the straw debacle). An app is not the thing to save us from a hundred years of industry. Going out and collecting litter DOES have an impact even if that impact is just “this area of the world no longer has trash in it.” It’s not solving the issue of microplastics or whatever but it is helping local birds. And it’s helping YOU feel more connected to your local environment and getting you involved with the world and your community.

Finally, the best thing you can be is well informed, persistent, and kind. Be willing and able to help if you bump into someone who is open to the idea of not letting Shell and SHEIN pour toxic sludge directly into every river. It’s more people than you think. But most people only know how to buy things that are “better.” (Electric cars, reusable bags, expensive neutral clothing made of flax). They want to do SOMETHING but we’re all just kind of vibrating balls of anxiety all the time. Know what sort of things are going on around you and invite them! My go to’s are composting initiatives, textile recycling programs, and pollinator friendly/grass free gardens.

Again, it would be great if we were all willing to drag the Shell and Nestle CEOs out to account for their crimes but being paralyzed by fear is not gonna help. Neither is another ethical clothing brand selling $400 linen underwear (probably). I’ve found time and time again that people who have any amount of tangible connection to the world outside have a much more visceral reaction to billionaire super yachts than defeatist suburbanites who drive EVs and have a kitchen full of dubious organic snacks.

#mine #text post #long #environmental Protection #solarpunk #solar punk #the environment #environmentalism #environment #climate change #environmental optimism

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baronessblixen · 1 month ago

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Asking For Miracles

Merry Christmas, @katebeckets! I'm your PoangPal Secret Santa, and as I am mostly a writer, you're getting a fic 😁 You said you were enraged that we didn't get to see Mulder and Scully reunite at the end of "Redux II" (same, btw). So I wrote a scene where Scully tells him that she's in remission. It's angsty - but of course, it has a happy end. I hope you like it!

(Here's the AO3 Link)

@poangsecretsanta @today-in-fic

“Mulder, I know it’s late, but I- I need to see you.”

The words Scully left on his answering machine still ring in his ears, even half an hour after he first heard them. By the time Mulder arrives at the hospital, his legs are like lead and feel as if he’s just finished a marathon. Every step he takes is pure agony; if only he could turn around and run. That, of course, is not an option. Not when Scully asked for him.

Mulder enters the hospital lobby, the place as familiar as his own home by now. He nods at Jeff, the doorman, and he nods back at him. Maybe he recognizes Mulder, or he has compassion for every sad soul that passes by.

He stops in front of the elevator, his fingers fidgeting with the lapels of his jacket. An elderly woman standing next to him eyes him wearily when he presses the elevator button twice more. He’s grateful she’s not making conversation as they step inside. His thoughts are loud, screaming at him. They have been ever since Scully’s phone call - another one he missed. The sound of her suppressed tears is too familiar; it already haunts his nightmares.

It’s late. The hospital is deserted – save for the elderly woman, who’s clinging to her purse, staying with him on the elevator until they reach the oncology ward. They share a silent look, pain evident in their movements as they set out in opposite directions.

A phone call late at night is never good news. Scully must have called him just after 9 p.m. He grabbed his jacket as soon as he heard it, not even caring if it – or he – smelled bad. Scully is all that matters.

Yet, now that he’s here, he slows down. The closer he gets to her room, the smaller and heavier his steps become. As long as he’s out here, and as long as he hasn’t looked into her eyes, and heard what she has to say, he can pretend. He can pretend the disease isn’t taking her life, cutting it way too short.

He passes room after room, getting closer to the truth. For once, Mulder doesn’t want it. He wants the miracle, the fantasy. From somewhere he hears music. Or maybe that’s just his imagination. It’s an older song, melancholic. A woman singing about wishing she had a river she could skate away on. Mulder thinks it’s a Christmas song. Who plays Christmas music in the middle of the year? He considers telling Scully about it, hoping it will make her smile.

It’s no surprise that he hates hospitals. He’s hated them long before Scully got sick, but not always. The first time he remembers being in one was when he was a toddler, just about three years old. On his first visit, he was apprehensive. He knew the concept of hospitals from books; big, white rooms with doctors looking like angels, sometimes healing, sometimes taking people to heaven. That’s how his grandmother Mulder had described it to him when he’d asked.

The angels, his grandmother had explained, too, had taken good care of his mother and his sister. As a new big brother, he had to know these things. It was his time to be brave. Just like now, he thinks, as his shoes squeak against the linoleum. Back then, his much smaller feet had shuffled along, trying to keep up with his father, who was holding his hand in his large, steady grip. Before that day, Mulder can’t remember his father ever holding his hand.

The room Mulder remembers is filled with a sunny warmth, despite it being November. What are the chances of it having been a sunny day? But that’s how he remembers it. Just like he remembers the soft smile on his mother’s face and the way he had to stand on tiptoe to see Samantha and her squishy face. Seeing her cemented his fate; he was a big brother and he would look after her forever. Only that forever had been taken away from them. Much like last night when he lost her again. No matter what he does, he keeps losing.

The memory ends there. In the following years, hospital walls became tainted. There was blood and screaming. Samantha broke her collarbone and Mulder broke his arm. His grandmother died; the angels she’d believed in taking her away. The memories are strung together like a pearl necklace in his mind; one painful memory after another. An endless circle. Now, there is another memory to add.

He stops in front of Scully’s hospital room. All is quiet. The music has stopped. His heart, however, hasn’t. It’s thumping steadily, loudly. So loud in fact that he wonders if Scully can hear it through the closed door. He closes his eyes and knocks.

“Come in,” Scully’s muffled voice says and so, finally, he does. His eyes find hers the second he steps inside. Her face is puffy - puffier than he’s seen it in weeks. The hollowness for once hidden. How many tears has she cried without him here? She throws him a small, shaky smile. A laugh falls from her lips that sounds more like a hiccup.

“I came as quickly as I could,” Mulder says, flinching when he realizes that’s a lie. He may have driven to the hospital as fast as he could, but he took his time arriving.

“I thought you should hear it first,” she says, sniffing. She grabs a tissue out of a half-empty box and blows her nose. “This is ridiculous,” she adds, avoiding his eyes. “I just- I called you first when I- and you… you were the first person I wanted to call when I found out.”

Blood rushes in his ears, his temples throb; this is the last moment before he knows. Once she says it - once the words are out there - they can’t be taken back. It will be real.

“They did more tests. I- the last PET scan showed no improvement and I-,” she trails off and Mulder’s knees buckle. No improvement. There’s no cure for this cancer, just like Scully said months ago when she asked him to come to the hospital for the first time. No cure, no improvement. There’s only one way this can end. He wants to cover his ears; it can’t be true if he doesn’t hear it, or see it.

“I wasn’t ready to accept that,” she goes on, her voice steady. She glances at him as if waiting for him to say something. It’s not like him to remain quiet, but what is there to say? He wants to get on his knees and pray to a God he doesn’t believe in. “So I asked for more tests. When you’re dying, doctors will do whatever you ask of them.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that,” Mulder mumbles and Scully cracks a smile.

“We did another PET scan, among other things, and Mulder- I don’t know why is this so difficult to say.” Another hollow laugh from her and he can no longer keep his hurt in. It expels from his mouth as his lips begin to quiver. Scully’s eyes open wide.

“Oh, Mulder,” she says, reaching out her hand and he’s too weak to deny her, to deny himself. Her skin is as soft as ever, her touch as assuring as it’s always been. He’s crying openly now, weeping. The tears are blurring his vision, but he sees what’s important: her in the hospital bed, smiling up at him.

“You shouldn’t have to comfort me,” he says with a sob, trying to compose himself. He thinks of his father, of the way he watched him dismissively the night his grandmother died. When Mulder, at ten years old, had wiped his tears away with the sleeve of this sweater, he had asked his father why he wasn’t crying. Wasn’t he sad? His father hadn’t replied and only stared at him before he’d wandered off.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, Mulder,” she says, tugging at his hand. “Sit down.” When he doesn’t, she tugs more strongly. “Sit. Please.” He does, his hands folded in his lap as if waiting to start a prayer.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” she says softly.

“You’re a mind reader now?”

“I don’t have to be. I should have started with the most important news,” she says, waiting. He knows she wants him to look at her. He braces himself before he lifts his eyes to hers. Hers are brimming with tears, just like his own.

“My cancer has gone into remission.”

Mulder stares at her, not understanding. These are the words he wants to hear. Remission. Cured. Yet, he can’t believe them.

“You believe everything but not this?” she teases, her voice shaky.

“You’re- and the cancer? It’s- it’s.” He doesn’t know what to say. How do you describe a miracle? It just is.

“Like I’ve been trying to say, I couldn’t accept that there was no improvement. My mother… my mother and I prayed together and then I knew I couldn’t give up. I asked for another PET scan and more blood tests. Mulder, I don’t know what… something changed. Whatever it is, whether it’s the chip or, or-”

“You’re in remission,” he repeats, his brain finally catching up. She nods.

“I’m in remission. The PET scan shows great improvement. The tumor is shrinking.”

“I can’t- it’s shrinking? You’ll be fine?” He reaches for her other hand, needing to feel her. Again, she nods, smiling.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispers. Mulder stares at her, watches her, and sees his whole future. Their future. Together. His lips quiver again, but this time from joy. Scully nods, understanding him without a single word spoken.

“Come here,” he says, desperate. He lets go of her hands and engulfs her in his arms. Their positions on the bed are awkward, but they make it work. His heart thumps against her chest, and he feels hers, too. He doesn’t care if it was the chip or a miracle. For once, he doesn’t care about uncovering a secret truth. He just wants to hold her in his arms and have her by his side for as long as she wants to be.

“Will you stay?” she asks into his neck. Her lips are warm and wet and her touch brings him back into the here and now.

“I’ll stay,” he says. He’ll stay as long as she will endure him in her hospital room.

“I need to call my family,” she whispers and he loosens his grip on her. Her face is as wet as his own feels and he wipes at her eyes with his thumb. Her blue eyes are almost translucent and he’s in fear of losing himself in them. Instead, he finds himself nodding along, reaching for the cell phone on her bedside table and handing it to her.

“Tell them right away,” Mulder says. “Say you have good news.” He smiles sheepishly. She doesn’t need to know about what he’s gone through in between her call and her breaking the news to him. Still, he’d like Mrs. Scully and Bill Jr. to know what they’re in for so they won’t have to worry anymore. There’s been too much heartbreak already. Scully nods at him, new tears falling from her eyes.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Mulder muses and Scully’s eyebrows knit together.

“It’s not Christmas,” she says with a chuckle and he takes her hand into his, entwining their fingers. She lets him. He marvels at their laced hands, remembering the song from earlier. He hopes the woman found a river to skate away on. He hopes she found her happiness somewhere along the way. Or maybe what she was looking for was right in front of her eyes the whole time. He knows what’s that like.

Mulder lifts his head and grins at her, falling deeper in love with her, allowing himself the full force of his emotions for once. The skepticism in her expression lets him know that she’s about to call him crazy. Or she would if this weren’t the exact moment her mother picks up the phone.

“Mom?” she says, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. Mulder squeezes her fingers to remind her he’s here with her. “I have something to tell you-…,” Scully goes on and looks at Mulder. There are so many things unspoken between them, and so many possibilities now for their future.

“It’s good news.”

#poangpresents2024 #poangpals #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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deesea-ao3 · 16 days ago

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Fun Lore Ideas for Fawcett City

I've been sitting on these concepts for ages and need to get them out of my system. For my current WIP, it was important that I have a strong concept for what kind of city Fawcett was going to be. While the plot isn't technically taking place in Fawcett, a huge amount of my lore interpretations/characterisations rely on there being a solid original setting to draw from. Also, it's super fun to extrapolate history and economy for a fictional magic city to try and make it feel as plausible as possible.

Now, to start with, I had to establish where the city would actually be located. Fawcett is typically represented and/or thought of as being in the Midwest, so I was able to whittle down my options even more. I couldn't have it too close to Central City, Keystone City, or Smallville since I wanted Fawcett to retain its isolated feel. It'd be harder for it to get away with being magic if it was a stones throw from speedster stomping grounds, for instance. In the end, I looked up old maps of America DC Comics had officially released for inspiration. What I got were these:

The first didn't have Fawcett at all, and the second had it placed near the border of Wisconsin. The latter was serviceable for my purposes. However, I wanted something more to draw from. I wanted to make Fawcett feel like an actual city with history before I slapped on the magic superhero. It technically was just an ordinary city until Shazam placed a portal there after all.

My second go of looking for inspiration was much more fruitful. I looked at a few fan-made maps and eventually stumbled upon this one in a reddit forum:

Upon closer inspection, I realised something.

That's fucking Chicago.

The idea that then formed was brilliant, my best one maybe ever. If I don't want to write a 2K+ document detailing an organic history of fictional Fawcett City, coupled with local industry and culture to boot, I can just STEAL a real one!

The existence of IRL Chicago is not necessary for my story, and its absence would be barely noteworthy in the grand scheme of things. Functionally, it wouldn't even be gone. Its location and major historical events would still have occurred, just under a different name. It not only saves me tons of labour as a writer, it's also fucking hilarious.

The heart of ALL of magic lies in an abdoned subway station in downtown Chicago Fawcett, the Windy city that houses pagan subcultures, talking animals, cursed objects and people who still think it's 1945.

Southern Lake Michigan has freshwater mermaids. The flat lands of the city proper are surrounded by bluffs as old as the ice age, which thrum with prehistoric magic. The sunset is always pink, and moonbeams are brighter somehow here. In the river that flows through art-nouveau styled skyscrapers swim fish with rainbow scales. The people are happy and chatty and full of little secrets, kept close and safe for rainy days. The woman who dresses in leaves and sleeps on park benches is liable to be simply human, but the jolly old milkman who visits you every morning is fae through and through. Weird is normal and normal is weird.

All while in Chicago, Illinois, one of the most populous, wealthy cities in America since the 1870s. The mechanic who enchanted your car to not break down anymore was raised by regular steel mill workers. The politician who dreams of addressing the city's entrenched class divides is stuck doing paperwork to establish legal protections for the local gnome population's tree houses. When it snows in winter, Yetis clear driveways and salt the sidewalks. No one talks about it much because what is noteworthy about public servants doing their jobs? So what if they're Yetis? You got a problem with that?

Fawcett blows Gotham out the goddamn water for weirdness, but because they're so nonchalant and humble about it, Gothamites walk around smugly assured of their tolerance for insanity, unaware of the bigger fish, which is the average Fawcett citizen. When tourists come to visit, the very genre of reality changes the second they step foot within city lines.

Fawcett solos, tbh. DC writers are weaksauce for not seeing the vision that is mystic Chicago city, home to all of magic.

#dc #dc comics #captain marvel #billy batson #shazam #fawcett #fawcett city #fawcett comics #Chicago: boring #Fawcett: better in every way #eat your heart out FLASH #the day the Justice League figures out Captains hometown is the day Batman resigns

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bonefall · 1 month ago

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I’m in love with your “Frostpaw meeting King Arc” concept, and I really want to make a comic out of it at some point. For now, have some sketches from today:

Thank you with all my heart, I cannot be normal about it either. Something drives me absolutely crazy about the idea that two, intersecting themes of BB!ASC are "echoes of the past" and "love was there, it was not enough, but it was still there."

Small recap for others; In BB!DOTC, the Park Cats are now a cultural group with a king. King Arc leads a massive group of refugees up from the south and establishes a kingdom by the river. The First Battle is caused when Clear Sky takes his prince, River's Ripple, as a hostage to hurt Thunder Storm, not respecting the political value of his son's friend. King Arc dies in this battle, and Riverstar continues the River Kingdom until his death, kicking off Riverstar's Heir.

I'm unsure if it came across, but something I intend with the Arc/Frost meeting during Frostpaw's Sabbatical is that King Arc is seeing his son Riverstar in her. The way that the ambition and responsibility that he put on him as his prince, is reflected in the stress and confusion that Frostpaw herself is now going through.

He, too, died saving his child, much like Curlfeather did. It's still a terrible burden to put that on someone you love so much.

I still need to tweak her siblings (thinking in my next draft for Mistpool, I'm gonna use blue merle dog markings and give her the same shape as Graysky), but this absolutely validates Frostdawn's design in my eyes lmao <3

There's a scene in my head during the first book of BB!ASC where Frostpaw is shoved up the tree by Curlfeather. Curl looks up at her and everything is moving in slow motion, her eyes full of love and sacrifice. She tells her daughter to trust no cat as the teeth of the dogs sink into her, softly, gentle as a kiss.

...And the camera cuts quickly to Frostpaw, up in the tree, the "wool" pulled off her eyes for the first time, the screeching, violent agony of her mother's bloody death reflected in them. Her grip falters as her body trembles with nausea, but she catches herself. Tears her face away from the horrible sight, and pulls herself up further out of harm's way.

I'll be making sure to write it down in the upcoming post too, but, preview <3

#better bones au #BB!Frostpaw #Fan Fanart #BB!Frostdawn #BB!ASC

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the-cypress-grove · 1 year ago

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Worldbuilding Checklist (STILL UPDATING)

This is basically a bunch of worldbuilding checklists crammed together. Use what works for you, leave the rest. This is fantasy orientated and I will continue to update it regularly so reblog or comment something you think should be added.

History:

How far back does recorded history go?

How does history interact with myth and folklore?

How did the current system of governance come into power?

What are some notable figures of history?

Is your world's history broken down into eras?

What events have been twisted and changed as they've been passed down through the generations?

Geography:

What is the climate of this area?

What are the common plants of this area? Are there any fictional plants?

What are the common animals of this area? Are there any fictional animals?

Are there continents? Islands?

How much of this area is inhabited?

What area is known?

Country borders?

What are the major geographical landmarks i.e. rivers, mountains?

Where are the major trade routs?

What are the seasons like in this area?

Magic System:

How is magic practiced? Using wands, staffs, runes, etc?

How is magic learned?

Can magic be taken?

What can't magic do? What are its limitations?

What is the first thing a person learns when learning magic?

How are magic users perceived by others?

What are the laws regarding magic?

How does magic link to religion?

How has magic influenced history?

Politics and Law:

What style of leadership rules the area i.e. theocrasy (ruled by religion), monarchy (ruled by a royal family)?

How are laws created?

What is the process from the conception of a law to the point where it passed?

How is the law enforced?

What is the judicial system of this place?

Is there a death penalty?

Society and Culture:

How many major cultures are there?

What is their global population?

Where are they located geographically within your world?

Is there a social hierarchy / a division between the classes?

What are the major pieces of art in this world?

What does its music sound like? What instruments are used?

Are there well know folk songs?

What food is eaten by each group of society?

What are the treat foods of this area?

What are the foods saved for special occasions?

What holidays / special occasions are there?

Religion:

What are the major religions in this area? Do they get on with each other?

How are these religions viewed by their worshippers? By those who worship other religions? By those who worship no one at all?

How much does religion influence politics and the laws passed?

What do these religions believe in?

Are there divisions within these religions between groups who believe slightly different things?

How old are these religion? Which came first?

Which religion has the biggest influence on the world?

What are their opinions towards the government?

What are their opinions regarding the poor and the rich? Do they differ?

What are their opinions towards magic and technology?

Commerce and Industry:

What is the major industry?

Main imports / exports?

How wealthy is this country / area?

What valuable resources does this country / area have?

What are the common crops / livestock in this area?

Is this area coastal? Is there a fishing / trade industry?

Is this area forested? Logging and timber?

Technology:

What are the transport option available? For the poor? For the rich?

#writing #writing prompts #writeblr community #creative writing #writing prompt #prompt #fantasy prompts #prompts #writeblr #fantasy worldbuilding #fantasy #writing fantasy #worldbuilding #world building #worldbuilding stuff #worldbuilding questions

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thelargefrye · 1 year ago

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THE WATERFALL … mature one - shot

pairing : dragon!seonghwa x witch!f!reader (background poly dragon ateez)

genre : dragon au, fantasy, smut

word count : 1.9k

warnings : language, mating / concept of mating, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, pet names (love, little witch, princess), marking

note : just something short while i write a longer piece lol also i miss this au and needed to do something with dragon!hwa. suffer with @sanjoongie everyone

seonghwa takes you to a secret place within the land of the clan and you experience something different with the eldest prince.

"watch your step," seonghwa says as he leads you through the dense forest. you note how warm his hand is around yours and you've come to the conclusion that all dragons are made to feel warm.

"will you tell me where we're going?" you ask softly, once you step over a large tree root and down some rocky sides. you note the sound of water and wonder if there is a river nearby.

"its a surprise," he says turning to look at you with a wide grin, and you hold back wanting to roll your eyes at him.

ever since you had saved seonghwa from the dragon hunters and came back to clan, you and him have grown significantly closer. you notice that this is much to the dismay of some of the other princes; however, to yeosang and mingi they were to delighted to see the two of you together.

"if we take too long, wooyoung might come look for us," you tease and seonghwa hums in reply before speaking.

"then let him come find us. i'm sure he'll enjoy what i have planned," he says, a smirk overtaking his features. you felt your heart skip a beat at his words as you felt a chill run down your spine. "we are close, close your eyes for me."

"how do i know you won't leave me here?" you question and originally it was meant to be a joke; however, you are quick to dismiss it once you notice seonghwa's face fall. "i-i was just–

"i won't leave you, ever. i promise on my life, y/n," he says as he stands facing you as he takes both of your hands in his own. "do you trust me?"

that's the big question. if he had asked you that when you first arrived at the clan, you would have said no, but now? did you trust him?

"i do trust you," you answer, licking your lips as you look him in the eyes.

"then close your eyes, my little witch," he says and you nod before doing as he says as you allow him to guide you through more of the forest. the sounds of water getting louder and louder.

you fell seonghwa move around to behind you, his body pressing flush against your backside and you can't help but a blush run over you due to the closeness. his breath is hot against your ear as his hands settle on your waist.

"okay, open them," he says and you are immediately greeted by the sight of a beautiful waterfall in front of you.

"wow," you say, taking in the sight before you.

"this waterfall is a secret place within the clan. only the head of the clan and his mates know about it," seonghwa explains and you suddenly can't help the cold rush roll over you at his words.

but you and hongjoong aren't mates. the prince still refuses to acknowledge you as his mate's mate and here seonghwa is showing you something that only hongjoong and his mates know of?

"p-prince seonghwa," you say turning around, eyes wide. "are you... are you sure we should be here? what if prince hongjoong–

"don't be scared of hongjoong," he says and you feel flabbergasted by his words. don't be scared of hongjoong? impossible.

seonghwa seems to notice the fear in your eyes, "whether he wants to admit it or not, you are our mate. his mate and he will eventually accept it. if it makes you feel better then just know that i asked if i could bring you here."

"and he said yes?"

"well... not originally, but i can be persuasive when i need to be," he says giving you week and you feel a blush rush to your face again when you realize what he means.

"i still feel like i'm invading in his space," you confess and seonghwa let out a hum at your words before he taking a few steps away from you and towards the water.

"well it can't be helped if you feel that, but since we are here... why don't you help me bath?" he says turning to look at you as he slowly begins to undress himself. "what do you say, princess, come help me?"

the water is cold when you first step into it. you let out a gasp at the coldness before you will yourself to take more steps into it. seonghwa's bare back is facing you after having asked him to turn around until you were in the water. you noticed how hard he was trying to remain still, his fist clenched tightly by his sides.

"i guess i should have warned you about the water, but dragon's don't necessarily feel the cold like humans do," he says as he roles his shoulders.

"its okay, i'm use to it with wooyoung," you tell him before your submerging your whole body and swimming further into the lake. "you can turn around now," you say and seonghwa waste no time in doing so and he spins so fast that you're worried he might give himself whiplash from it.

seonghwa waste no time in undressing and stepping into the water and you have to look away because of how carefree he is in the moment. as much as you would like to have looked at him in his full glory, you weren't mated yet and you couldn't help but feel like a perv if you did look at him.

seonghwa swims over to you and you allow him to pull you in close to him. your bodies flushed against each other and you have to suppress the moan that threatens to escape when your nipples rub against his chest. his other hand runs down your spine before tracing over the curve of your ass before he's lifting your leg to hook around his waist.

"prince seonghwa..." you say trailing off as you two make eye contact.

"call me seonghwa," he says as he rests his forehead against your own and when he moves, his lips just very so slightly brush over yours. "will you let me love you, princess? let me mate with you and fill you up?"

you felt your heart skip a beat at his words, like it was back when you and wooyoung had mated for the first time all over again.

"yes, please," you say and the dragon smiles before he's pressing his lips to yours in a heated kiss. you're quick to wrap your arms around his neck as your other leg came up to rest around his waist as well.

you felt your body stick his own thanks to the water. you couldn't help but moan when seonghwa begins to roll his hips, his cock rubbing between your folds and just barely missing your entrance. seonghwa pulls away from your lips in order his trail his own down your jaw and neck. his tongue pressing against wooyoung's and yeosang's marks before he's trailing down your chest.

"ah, seonghwa!" you cry out as you feel him sheath himself inside of you, filling you up like how wooyoung and yeosang have done so many times before the eldest dragon.

"f-fuck," he moans as you clench around him before he begins to move his hips. the water around the two of you moves in small waves and it reminds you of when wooyoung and you would take baths together back at your cottage. the way too small bathtub just barely being able to fit the two of you as wooyoung's wandering hands make you sit on his cock and by the end of the bath, the water would be cold and half of it would be out of the tub and in the floor.

however, this is different. seonghwa holds you close to him as he rocks his hips and the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

"h-hwa," you moan as you feel your head fall backwards, but seonghwa stops you from fulling submerging your head under the water. he presses his lips to your left shoulder and presses a strong kiss to it before you him nibble at your skin. you run your hands down his back, your nail probably leaving a trail of red lines. you can't help but hope that one of the others will notice and know what you and seonghwa did together.

"can i mark you, princess? make you my mate like yeosangie and wooyoung have?"

"yes, yes, yes! please!" you say when he picks up the speed of his thrust and even the water doesn't seem to pose an issue to his ministrations. you let out a loud cry when you felt seonghwa bite down on your shoulder, his teeth sinking into your skin and marking you as one of his mates.

you feel seonghwa moan into your skin before he's pulling away slightly in order to lick at the wound. you feel a mixture of pleasure and pain coursing through your body. pain from your left shoulder and pleasure from seonghwa continuing to abuse your pussy.

you can't help but feel a mixture of emotions crash over you in waves. not only the pleasure and pain, but over just an overwhelming sense of joy and comfort. joy because of how happy you are to be with seonghwa in this moment, to know that you're relationship has changed and grew so much, but the comfort.

the comfort was what made tears well up in your eyes. knowing that seonghwa finally accepted you as a mate, accepted you as a part of the clan and a part of himself. you couldn't help but let out a small sob rip through you.

"y/n?" seonghwa's voice crashes through your thoughts and he's looking at you with wide, concern eyes. "what's wrong, love? did i hurt you?"

"no," you say with a smile, tears running down your face as you, "i'm just happy," you add on as the eldest dragon prince leans his forehead against your own. "thank you, seonghwa."

"don't thank me. if anything i should be the one thanking you for giving me a chance," he says with a soft smile, you note how his thrust have slowed down a little bit, but not completely stoped. the two of you share another kiss before seonghwa is doing one last thrust into you before you're clenching around him and cumming.

he groans into your lips before he doing several more thrust and then stilling inside of you. his cum painting the inside of your walls white and you can't help but clench even more in an attempt to keep all of him inside of you.

"if you keep clenching around me, princess, i might not be able to pull out," he teases as he trails his lips down your body. he begins to slowly move backwards in the water and the air around you sending goosebumps over your body.

seonghwa grins when he notices and pulls you close to him once you both are out of the water. he sets you done on the ground, back against a large rock that was near the edge of the water before he's hovering over you.

"want to go another round?" he asks, smirk gracing his lips and you can't help but laugh at him. you open your mouth to answer but the sound of someone else stops you.

"hey! what are you two doing? seonghwa, you bastard, you better not be hurting my mate!" wooyoung's voice is loud as he comes crashing through the tree line. seonghwa seems surprised by how wooyoung was able to find you both, but you don't seem phased by it.

"i told you, he would come look for us if we were gone for too long."

tag list : @frankenstein852 @watamotee33 @kawennote09 @mixling-blog @marahleiwhen @kpopnightingale @harry-the-pottypus @pyeonghongrie @sanniesbum @marvelahsobx @khjcoo @mysticfire0435 @exfolitae @dementedaly @simeonswhore @moonm1st @nvmbheart @spooo00oky @frgogh (i still don't know why i can't tag you) @sookacc @seongwin @burnsmepls @ad0rechuu @tunaasan @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23

network : @cultofdionysusnet

#dragon from the window.#cultofdionysusnet #kdiarynet #ateez x reader #ateez blurbs #ateez imagines #poly ateez x reader #ateez seonghwa x reader #ateez smut #ateez seonghwa smut #ateez dragon au #ateez fantasy au #ateez scenarios

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r--kt · 10 months ago

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Okay, but why the "Kannabi" Bridge? I mean, why is this called that? Turns out, this is an amazing and very beautiful metaphor.

Kakashi Gaiden analysis. Kannabi — the bridge between two worlds

I will look at this from the side of Shinto culture (based on the materials that I could find, feel free to correct me if you know more about this) and from the side of Kakashi and Obito's storylines.

Contents | cultural code · significance for the plot structure · the idea itself (this one is really important!)

Cultural code

In Shinto culture, it is not customary to divide the world into human and sacred, especially into divine and demonic principles — everything exists in harmony with each other, in a single system.

Kannabi (神奈備) refers to a region that is a shintai (repositories in which kami reside) itself, or hosts a kami. In fact, Kannabi is a place of connection between the human and the spiritual. Usually these are mountains, rivers, and forests that stand out for their beauty. These are such accumulations of natural energy, so sacred that their presence requires observance of a certain rite. So, if in relatively modern times be present next to the blossoming sakura, picnics in picturesque mountains and the like has normalized in Japanese culture, then in ancient times people did not dare to disturb mountains or groves with their presence. In such places, people performed rituals of worship to the deity, wrestling matches, divination, sacred dances, offerings, etc. The territory of the kami did not completely coincide with the territory of worship to them, people still tried to move away from the center of the sacred place so as not to bother their deity. To mark the border of entry into Kannabi, symbolic gates were installed — most often in the form of torii.

examples of kannabi in real life. Mount Fuji and Nachi Falls. [ as I understand, shintai and kannabi are synonymous concepts, but kannabi is broader in meaning. ]

It's all about how important the term is in a cultural context. A place of divine power that cannot be desecrated. From here, the Kannabi Bridge and the surrounding area can also be considered endowed with divine energy — and here the most interesting thing begins.

Significance for the plot structure

Now about the scenario composition. In general, the Battle of Kannabi, as the event itself in Kakashi and Obito's storylines, according to Joseph Campbell's «hero's journey», is a stage of transition between worlds. That's what the symbolism of the place also works for. This is the moment when the hero assumes responsibility for the beliefs he carries and their consequences, and literally or symbolically crosses the threshold between the safe and familiar world to the dangerous and unknown one, embarks on the path of reflection and prepares to meet the unconscious.

Thus, briefly speaking, Kakashi finds the strength to resolve his internal conflict in favor of his father's attitudes about the value of each Shinobi, and Obito sacrifices himself, protecting his loved ones and defending his ideals. Then their paths got separate so that each one could face with the unknown by himself.

In the context of the monomyph model, this is how the beginning of the initiation stage is demonstrated (i.e., the transition from one state to another, which is accompanied by some kind of ritual). Since Kannabi in culture is the boundary between the human and the divine, it can be concluded that this very transition is shown almost literally, thanks to the sharingan awakening and the broken tanto. This is the first turning point in history, structurally coinciding with the end of the first act.

The idea itself

And what do we see in general? In the battle of Kannabi, the religious Shinto subtext is vividly read. For the battle in a sacred place, the moral positive change of the hero (Kakashi) or his original courage (Obito) and a certain sacrifice (Kakashi's eye), the deities give a reward: the power of sharingan, which helps them save Rin, which is shared between Obito and Kakashi and in the future generally serves as a direct demonstration of the spiritual connection between them. At the same time, for the desecration of a sacred place (the goal of the mission was to blow up a bridge), heroes are punished: from this point of view, Obito's death is a certain sacrifice for the damage inflicted on the deity.

There is also information that the name of the bridge - Kannabi-kyo (神無毘橋) - can also be interpreted as «A bridge where the gods won't help». idk if it's true, but sounds cool.

Moreover, the very name of Obito's mangekyo — Kamui (神威) — literally translates as «The Power of Gods». Perhaps it is based on the mentioned concept of the place where Kakashi and Obito received the power of sharingan. And maybe that's why they call the technique the same way: because they treat it rather with such a religious meaning.

and thanks for reading to the end ♡

#honestly this is one of my favourite things in gaiden so complex and interesting and ughhh–#naruto #naruto shippuden #team minato #kakashi hatake #obito uchiha #rin nohara

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derww · 4 months ago

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Hearts and their true value | Essay

ZAM: Something i've noticed is that people who are willing to stand up are the people that have been around longer. It's interesting. Its not like Jumper's that new anyway, like she's been around, she's, I feel like she's not really like... I don't know, understood the devaluing, or the lack of value that hearts have.

Okay, I wanna tell you a story.

[ENDGAME SPOILERS TO SKY:COTL | CW DEATH AND SUICIDE IN THE GAME CONCEPTS]

There is a game called Sky. This is a social game about human connections, and one of the important parts of the gameplay is wings. You get wings by grinding and lose them one by one when your health drops to zero.

From the very beginning, the wings are shown to you as a value: they accumulate as you explore the world, which is beautifully reflected by the star patterns on the cloaks, and, most importantly, they determine the degree of your ability to fly. and flying is the main mechanic of the game, you fly almost always. an unshakable and absolute value. This means that wings must be protected and saved, and this is the essence of the game!

But Sky is a cycle. The end of the cycle is death. and you are losing all your wings in the process. Invariant. And the game never warns you about it; it says that you can lose your wings, sure, but it's nothing in comparison with losing everything. And first time, it's very, very scary: me personally, stories about this place scared me bad enough that I finally got through it only after a week of constant playing. and in the end you're left with... nothing. You have only one wing. You have to start from the beginning. Was all this adventure, all these efforts, worth it?

Usually it takes several months for the players to get used to losing wings. Not only at the end of the cycle, gaining red candles and sometimes unlocking eternal wings or cosmetics, but generally. Leaving themselves in dangerous places, playing with the death, and... Protecting other people, especially new players, by bodyblocking the hits. because, despite the amount of wings being a reason to flex and the importance of being able to fly higher and longer and grinding being just straight up annoying, part of the Sky philosophy as i understand it is the idea that wings are not actually holding much value.

Two years ago, I had a beautiful sky friend. She was Chinese, resembled an elegant and beautiful flower, and told me to call her 江妤 (Jiang Yu, "Like the Yangtze River," she had explained to me). Jiang Yu, in addition to all her wonderful personal qualities, was wingless.

In a normal situation, you can't stay wingless; you always have at least one wing. The whole game is based on the idea that you will fly, but there are many glitches that can temporarily make you wingless. However, here was only one way to stay wingless: from the moment the birth, you couldn't pick up a single wing and continued to avoid them for eternity.

It wasn't a planned way to play, but it was possible, and different people played that way for different reasons. Jiang Yu, having a very developed account on a Chinese server, explained to me that she wants to travel with her friends. "Lead me wherever you wish, and I will follow you," she said to me. She couldn't get to many places on the map alone, and even one drop of rain depersonalized her, and she needed someone to guide her. She was extremely dependent on others.

But Jiang Yu, having no wings, being outside the existing equation, could not die. This was the catch of the wingless: having nothing, they were not afraid to lose something (except their own winglessness, but oh, well), and this made them invulnerable. For me, it was the true Sky experience of connecting with people around and trusting them.

Thinking about the philosophy of it in my walks with Jiang Yu, I came to a personal conclusion: Sky is a game where you are given value, given currency, demonstrated its importance and usefulness and irreplaceability, and then demonstrated that in fact it has no real value. And the wingless ones, even if not planned by the developers, are the apogee of this idea. It is—oh well, let me give you the most banal quote: "It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything." Do you understand where I'm going and how it relates to Lifesteal?

I don't like to row everyone under the same comb, but to simplify, let's say: many of the new members are scared to die. Old members are generally not. They all have different understandings and positions, and someone has 20 hearts and someone has 4; it's a difference in mindsets.

And Jumper is still new. Especially taking into account that the big part of the s5 she was pretty much immortal with the infinite (not really, but) stash of hearts and that PB&J was kinda built on not understanding things.

Yeah, this is the Lifesteal, the server about killing people for hearts. But it hasn't been just that way for a very long time. The server is fucking alive and is constantly changing, but even before, cool stories were much more important than just not dying. "Reaching 20 hearts" without any twist is a very boring video. Wanna show how cool you are? Do something better.

There is not much interesting in being just passive. Yeah, Wemmbu is scary, but he is the villain; of course he is scary. Im not saying that they have to pick up a sword and fight, but I think Zam is right in that they just don't really understand yet. but its something we've talked about many times before – unspoken rules and conventions and all that. This can be attributed to the same place as the fact that members tend to play along with each other even if it's dangerous. Content is more important than hearts. At the end, you came here to play.

Part of the reason I love 3ht so much is that they embody it. They're constantly dying; they seem weak and worthless, but they're here, and they are doing atleast something. And Planet... Is Planet. Even to go edit, you first need to give a dramatic speech, change movement of the whole arc, and backflip into the void. Despite how important hearts are and that you should still care, it's good to understand that it does not actually matter that much. Yeah, it helps with how many crits you'll take before dying, but is it really the only important thing here?

Many months after our first meeting, Jiang Yu made a mistake and accidentally got her first wing. She was so sad, and I hugged her, and her wings looked like a beautiful cherry flower. I haven't seen her in a long time, but we still exchange gifts sometimes. I miss her. And even if we never see each other again, I appreciate the memories we've made together. And it's more valuable than anything else.

(And, at the end, its just a game. It can be very important; you can be very invested, but it is necessary to draw a line. In-game life may cost nothing, but your real life is infinitely valuable)

#d.thoughts #lifesteal smp #said obvious shit through another game. lmso #cw death #cw suicide

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madwomansapologist · 1 year ago

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i love everybody because i love you

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: It doesn't matter what their first impressions of you were, they certainly did not expect you to be so important in their lifes. And as the days passes, each one of your companions need to understand a simple fact: they love you. They all love you.

warnings: a sequel to that (you don't need to read if you don't want to). song "strawberry blond". companions (lae'zel, halsin) x druid!tav. background cast (alfira, mirkon, scratch, owlbear, shadowheart, astarion, wyll, mizora, karlach, minthara). lae'zel love language is pressing a dagger against your throat. i accidentaly made her somewhat a stalker?? there is a high chance minthara doesn't sound like her because i killed her like two onversations in. if you discover which animated character is my biggest inspiration for this tav i will give you a reward.

In a harsh world, people are supossed to shield themselfs from even the possibility of danger. Is the only rational response to the ambiguity of chaos. What those who crave to survive must learn, what those who deserve to survive must do.

You get stronger, so you won't feel pain. Because to feel pain is to remind your soul that one day your body will perish. To get stronger is to forget about the eventual end. Is to get protected from death itself, even if as just a concept.

When not even death can catch you, you're free. When you have nothing to love, nothing to care about, you are free. That's real strength. To be invulnerable. To have nothing to lose, no one close enough to ever hurt you.

Lae'zel lost the count on how many times you bleed. How many times you fell. Burned, drowned, exhausted in pain. Arrows crossed your chest, swords cut your legs, calloused hands stopped you from breathing.

You're somewhat good at hiding it. How much things can hurt you. When someone disrespect one of your companions, when people blame you for their fates, when you did everything you could and it wasn't enough. It hurts you in a different, worst way. She can see it on your face.

Maybe you could've earned a good end, if the world worked in a different way. A peaceful life, one fit for those who don't aspire greatness. But Lae'zel knew it was only a matter of time until the tadpole took control. She felt it on herself. Saw it on you.

No one would save her, no one would save any of you, but perhaps Lae'zel could. It was an merciful act. To end you first. You failed as a leader, but you tried. Then she'll go to the others, knowing she's brave enough to kill herself after.

She thought you had surrendered yourself to her. That you had come to the same conclusion. A wise druid, after all. Then Lae'zel felt. The cold thread against the base of her neck. A dagger she didn't saw coming.

"Step back," you ordered, voice unaffected. Lae'zel never heard you like that before. She had a dagger against your throat, but you spoke as if you rule the entire world.

"Chk, you think that tiny blade of yours will stop me from free..."

"What I think doesn't matter, but what I know does." Your eyes burned her skin. "You're stronger, I'm faster. I propose you a bet. If you kill me, go on with your plan. If I kill you, that's it. I won't kill them. I won't kill myself. Even if I can, even if I must. You would've died for nothing, forever ignorant if it was the right thing to do."

Lae'zel saw you barefoot at the Emerald Grove, applauding Alfira as she sang. Crossing the river by jumping from stone to stone, talking to Mirkon as if he wasn't a kid but a dear friend. How many times did Lae'zel found a bed shaped of you on the grass right next to where Scratch and Owlbear slept?

A sacreed deer, whose even blood is ever so sweet, howled like an wolf.

Would you turn into a mindflayer out of... stubbornness? Would you let the rest of your beloved party turn into something utterly disgusting, putting in danger all those people you swore to protect, just to prove a point?

Maybe you would. Maybe you wouldn't.

No one died that night.

You intrigued Lae'zel. Before you were her supposedly defenseless prey, and now you are the object of her curiosity. Lae'zel didn't understand you. And she craved to.

So she kept a close eye on you.

You bleed. All the fucking time. You bleed, and you wept. But everytime someone crushed you down, you rose up. For every tear that fall from your eyes, you made sure to smile. You survive, and you keep on doing it.

Strength and weakness merged in the warrior's mind. She knew what strength is, she can smell weakness from afar. Lae'zel was taught everything she was supossed to know.

But you were never the one to fit in old impervious notions.

Lae'zel saw you end a hyena's suffering without flinching, and you trying to hold on the wind when you were about to fall. She heard you helping a bird decorate its nest, and the breaking of a skull of someone brave enough to maim Shadowheart when she was near you.

You yelled at Astarion as he tried to stop you from helping gnomes. Helped Wyll with herbs for his pain after Mizora's trick. Helped Gale with dinner, putting a smile to the usually frowed wizard's face. Gave Karlach her first hug in years.

She saw your every movement. Lae'zel heard you laughing, saw you dancing, watched as you helped your new friends. Sometimes it felt as if you made white lines so she could follow you. So Lae'zel could see you being good, nice, decent. Being you in a way that showed her that no, you would've never let your companions turn into mindflayers. You were bluffing, and she fell for it.

At some point, it started to ache. Anytime you laugh at some tiefling's story, something inside Lae'zel burned. At night, she could picture your smile on her eyelids. When you call her name during battle, yelling instructions that somewhat always end in victory. When you look at her.

She can still see that fire. That same flame that stopped her from killing you right then and there. But diluted, controlled. And still, just as able of burning her entire soul. You have a fire contained within your gaze, and Lae'zel doesn't mind getting burned.

Maybe you're not that weak. And maybe she's not that strong.

She's not watching you anymore. Observing your every move so she can understand your mind. Not a prey, not a walking question mark. Lae'zel is purelly admiring.

For some, you came as a tempest. Slowly, without announce your intentions, your way of being embraced them.

A few flinched, scared of what that meant about them. That by admitting you're good despite it all means they could be good too. Some welcomed it, scared of what that meant about the world. If you're good despite everything that happened, then others could be too. Others chose not to.

But you stroke Halsin as a thunderstorm, just as quickly and fiercly. In such a dark time, you were a lighthouse. A shining light that blind at first, but embraces and comforts.

The grove was in danger, his life could end at any given moment, a goblin camp separated him from the world he worked so hard to protect. But your party helped him, and it gave Halsin the right amount of hope.

You asked him to stay behind, and he did so. Halsin wouldn't be able to control himself, and you didn't need all that attention. He was hopeful, not an idiot. But when Halsin heard screams from the room beside... Knowing that Minthara was there, Halsin couldn't help himself.

A wizard focused on the goblins. As he held them in place, a cleric made sure to end them. But at the other side of the room, the only other druid he saw in weeks had a dagger deep on her chest.

Minthara had you on your knees, her nails digging on the skin of your chin. A burning tiefling didn't knew a way to react that wouldn't end within that same blade slicing your throat. She waited for an order, an instruction of any kind, and Minthara realized that you were leading the rebels.

"Is that your leader?" Minthara looked at the tiefling. Her eyes were numb, bored even, but her grin was sharp. She forced to blade deeper. "A weak druid, barely able of helding a sword? Are you that desperate?"

You should've cried. You should've beg for mercy. You should've do anything, instead of laughing. Minthara glared at you, sure that you were reduced to a crazy, desperate animal. But when you bit her hand, blood staining your chin, you were more of a beast.

Minthara stumbled, and you pulled the blade she left on your shoulder. Blood ran down your side, but that didn't stopped you from rising up. Halsin don't think anything would've.

"Maybe you're right," you hissed. With her dagger on your left hand, you took your sword from the ground. "I'm not a fighter. I wasn't educate to control the Weave. I can't heal a thing. When I can't do something, I find someone that can. Without their help, I would be dead by now."

Halsin came here to act. To help, protect, kill. But all he could do, just like everyone else in that room, was to watch you. To look at your beaming smile, to see the blood on your teath, not even trying not to get blind by it.

"Why would anyone follow someone that professes to be so weak?" She looked at the wizard, a dead goblin at his feet, her brain thinking of all the ways she could defeat your party. "What can you do that give you the right to rule them?"

Your smile seemed to grow wider. "I can beat the shit out of you."

And beat the shit out of Minthara you did.

With a first impression like that, ain't no mistery why Halsin couldn't do anything but to stay with your party. But to go on with you, deafeting the Shadowcurse and exploring Baldur's Gate. But to see you shine, feel your warmth, and let it pull a string on his heart.

At the end, it didn't matter how it started. It didn't matter how much they fought the thought back. If they lied to themselfs, made you a villain on their minds, welcomed you with open arms.

You have their hearts. Simply as it can be. You have their hearts.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR'S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #lae'zel #lae'zel bg3 #lae'zel x tav #lae'zel x reader #lae'zel of k'liir #halsin #halsin x reader #halsin bg3 #halsin x tav #halsin baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 x you #kind!druid!tav #oc: liliana wilde #tavrem

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iamespecter · 18 days ago

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Oh ziku, I'm going to open Pandora's box with this question I'm going to ask (sorry if I made you uncomfortable)

I wanted to ask you personally what your eternal eclipse au is about. I saw that you mentioned it on tadc-harlequin a few times, so it generated interest in me. 🤔

As I said, I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I fully understand your love-stress relationship with the fnaf fandom.

I send you strength to improve your current situation.

lmfao I honestly don't mind, the Eternal Eclipse au brainrot still goes on despite the lack of interest amongst the general audience

But basically, it's an AU where God of War meets Security Breach, but if 80's synthwave were written all over it

The AU formed because I was watching Jacksepticeye's God of War Raganarok playthrough, while having Dance with the Dead songs playing in the background. I then thought to myself, " hm... what if.... God of War x Security Breach.... with lots of Dance with the Dead vibes....."

Summary:

The world is dying. The sun has lost it's warmth ever since the moon shattered. The Skies remain dark as the void vast of space, no longer in it's place. The Oceans, lakes and rivers have become frozen. The Weather has become volatile and constant sandstorms plague the wastelands. The Forests no longer lush, but ashen and volcanic.

An Eternal Eclipse sits lone beyond the horizon. A grim reminder, and a ticking time bomb for the eventual collapse of everything we know.

Freddy is a wandering bear who simply wants to find a safe place for his small companion, Gregory, a young human boy left to die all alone when he was an infant, until saved by Freddy. But the wastelands are brutal, and unforgiving. He's spent years running away from his demons, but now he's decided he must make things right.

Not just for Gregory, but for them, too.

I don't have a lot of art (especially since I'm currently on my phone rn), but I have Freddy's old design and yes I gave him Kratos' black bear fur coat it looks so fucking badass

Some spoiler for the story up ahead:

Each of the Glamrocks for this AU actually represent an important aspect of the world;

Chica being the sigil of water, the seas, rivers and lakes. Her being gone from her place means that all bodies of water have dried up and turned into a desert wasteland.

Where's all the water? She IS the water. And she's frozen entirely because of the great collapse, now being the reason why the entire lands are freezing cold. She is being held in the farthest corner of the world, where her influence had created a massive corrupted ice wall spanning the entire world.

(old concept art for Chica's corrupted primal form, may update this soon with a better one)

To free Chica from this feral form, a ritual must be commenced; Freddy has to play a song from her own guitar (that Bonnie kept) that reawakens her true spirit. Said theme is "Venom".

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Roxanne is the sigil of weather, but due to her misplacement, she has crashed down to the earths and has become a mountain that only awakens to wreak havoc, seemingly trying to find something. Her breathing when she sleeps is the reason why there are constant sandstorms, and earthquakes.

(old concept for how her primal form looks, if she's not sleeping, may update this soon)

Roxanne's theme is "Andromeda".

youtube

Montgomery is the embodiment of fauna, being the forests and swamps. The rivers drying up has turned him and his territory into a volcanic creature, constantly spewing corrupted ashes into the air.

Monty's lava, smoke, ashes and withered fauna is one of the major reasons why the world, as well as it's occupants are slowly dying, as they can barely grow new crops.

Montgomery's theme is "War".

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(Yes, this is another "boss rush" AU. lmao)

Now, what about Bonnie? Well, he's a zesty ahh vendor. lmfao

When the moon was shattered, the skies disappeared. Without the skies to keep the weather up, the weather crashed to the ground. When the weather came too close, the seas froze and the lands dried up. Without the sea's flow, the fauna withered and became hateful.

A domino effect that resulted into the Great Collapse of the world.

I don't have the updated designs for everyone yet, so hopefully I could get started on those sometime even if the AU is not my main concern atm

#thanks for the ask!#ziku's insane rambles #fnaf #five nights at Freddy's #fnaf security breach #security breach au #security breach #five nights at freddy's security breach #glamrock freddy #glamrock chica #glamrock bonnie #roxanne wolf #montgomery gator #sb au #Eternal Eclipse AU #fnaf eternal eclipse au

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official-darkforest · 6 months ago

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Sorry I would love for you to explain all of your rare pairs. I love deep warrior cats thoughts pls if you want to do so

ThornRat (Thornclaw x Ratscar) Dark Forest trainee pairing. They're also both old enough to remember the Old Forest . The whole dynamic I have in mind is Thornclaw being rather oblivious to his sexuality and also being a huge fucking hypocrite (he's one of the more conservative warriors of TC, ironically). Ultimately his relationship with Ratscar, if you can even call it one, is doomed from the start and Ratscar is stuck yearning for someone that's not worth pursuing for multiple reasons.

BrambleFern (Bramblepaw x Fernpaw) I specify -paw because I see them as a bit of a tragic pairing where it doesn't end up working out because Dustpelt swoops right in and inserts himself in Bramblepaw's place. Also, in the context of my rewrite, Brambleclaw is the one to run away to ShadowClan instead of Tawnypelt so whatever spark he and Fernpaw had going never gets to go anywhere. I imagine they're still friends but have some moments of 'what if' every now and then.

BrindleFlint (Brindleface x Flintfang) Honestly I just wanted to give Ashfur and Ferncloud a father that already existed in the series and also didn't fuck up the family tree any more than it already is. I think I got this idea from someone else but I can't exactly remember who - but it's a very interesting concept considering the events of the first arc and how Flintfang was still alive for the events that happened (according to Tigerstar's Fury and Blackfoot's Reckoning). I headcanon that Ferncloud is named after her aunt Fernshade, too. Additionally, in the anthro AU, their story is a lot sadder but that's another story...

LongWind (Longtail x Runningwind) Childhood friends to almost-lovers! They're around the same age and would've definitely trained together. As mentioned in my HalfOne family tree post, they had a budding interest but it was cut short by Runningwind's death. Sad :(

IvyBreeze (Ivypool x Breezepelt) This one is just funny. "You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid" kind of shit. Breezepelt would be fucking fuming over it because he doesn't want to be like his dad.

HalfDove (Half Moon x Dove's Wing) Another one that's mostly in the context of my rewrite! I'm imagining it's very one-sided since I also love HalfJay, but it's a very complicated thing where Jay's Wing is very focused on saving their colony and too scatterbrained to really put any serious commitment to Half Moon (something he tells her explicitly, but she pursues anyways). Dove's Wing is embarrassed of her crush and knows it was never meant to be, not only because she's a prophecy cat but also because Half Moon doesn't even like her that way.

IceApple (Icewing x Applefur) Another Dark Forest Trainee pairing! I have a lot of these because I got attached to them. Not my only Applefur ship but certainly one that's kinda fun to think about. I don't have much to say about these two sadly but I thought it was a cute idea that I could maybe build off of later.

MinnowMouse (Minnowtail x Mousewhisker) I don't actually think this one is that much of a rare pair, I've seen a lot of ppl talk about this but I was kinda running out of ideas since there's a lot of characters idgaf about sorry LOL anyways this one is based on a scene in Dark River and the fact they were both Dark Forest trainees in their adulthood.

#warrior cats #ask

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chaoticbardlady99 · 1 year ago

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Could you please do some comforting fic? Like, Tav is crying because of stress (or maybe a painful memory) and Astarion has to console her being an absolute emotional support vampire?

Dying Star (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Your wish is my command!

Synopsis: While exploring the Shadowlands, you run into Arabella and she asks you to find her parents. Unfortunately, you don’t have good news to deliver and Astarion tries to navigate your feelings with tips from Karlach.

Character Class- Cleric of Lliira

(I’m really obsessed with this concept because I’m a Social Worker and I refer to myself as the “positivity police” so this is a character type I have grown fond of)

TW: Grief, Trauma, Parental loss, PTSD, Panic Attacks, mentions of violence and gore.

*I really like the nickname Little Love (I know it’s for Ascended only but…..) so I will be using it as a pet name that Astarion uses for the reader.

Companion song: Dying Star by Ashnikko (feat. Ethel Cain)

It was supposed to be easy. You had an extra skip to your step as you headed in the direction Arabella told you her parents went.

Finally, you had thought, I can do something good for someone. I can reunite a family. No morally gray bullshit to navigate.

You were grinning the whole way there despite your argument with Astarion before sending him with Arabella.

“We don’t have time to go parent hunting.”

“There is always time to go parent hunting.”

He had expressed his disdain about finding Arabella’s parents. He told you it’s a waste of time- they were probably dead anyway. Arabella had whimpered and teared up. That was enough for you to lose your patience and you ripped into him for saying "something so awful and in front of a CHILD, nonetheless!"

You sent him back with Arabella and Wyll, telling him that if he had no desire to search and rescue, he didn’t have to. He had looked hurt and insisted he go, that he needed to be there, but you were fed up and a little girl was crying.

Dejected, Astarion had gone back to camp. The guilt sat heavily at the bottom of your stomach, but you had a personal mission to complete and nothing was going to stop you.

You were orphaned as a young child. The nightmares had gone away (for the most part), but you still remember your father dragging you away from your mother’s cold body as Loth Drows ambushed Silverymoon. They had had a whole army and their druids had control over giant creatures from the Underdark. You remember losing your father in the haze, an arrow to your back, running and slipping into a river. Then nothing. Until a nearby Cleric of Lliira (Leer-uh) had saved you, taking you to Selgaunt (SELL-GAUNT) on the coast of the Sea of Stars. Lliira had healed your heart and saved you- you hoped to pay that debt forward and help Arabella have a better outcome than you did.

No one in your party knew your past and you hadn’t brought it up to Astarion. It feels so long ago and it was a topic you preferred to bring up in a more hospitable place than the Shadowlands and after you help Astarion kill Cazador. You wanted to prioritize his joy and help him finally be free, so why would you burden him with your past while he is suffering far more from his?

It didn’t take you and your party long to locate Arabella’s parents. You found them in the House of Healing- dead. Along with your hope and joy.

You had erupted in a tearful rage and you stabbed the Sister who killed them over and over.

You didn’t care what the Joybringer would do if she saw how senselessly you mutilated the sisters and Malus. You had made them suffer as you saw fit. Mutilating them, using more painful methods of killing (stabbing in painful, but not lethal spots), and your crying came out as painful, angry screams.

Gale, Karlach, and Shadowheart eyed you with concern as you walked back to the camp. Usually you were singing or whistling a tune, cracking jokes to relieve the tension.

Instead, you were focusing on how you would break the news to Arabella that her parents are dead and she is all alone.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion paces around his tent, trying to distract himself from the pit of fear in his stomach. You had never snapped at him that way- usually you just roll your eyes at him and give him a chaste kiss with a soft, “I understand if you don’t want to go, but I would appreciate it if you would come along.”

He wasn’t sure why Arabella and her parents had been a sensitive subject or why you had insisted on looking for them when they were likely already dead. No one survives the Shadow Cursed Lands without a light source and mediocre tactical skills.

That didn’t stop him from rooting for you though- he hopes he is wrong and that you come back victorious. He wants you to be happy. Astarion enjoys seeing you succeed because that’s when you flash that brilliant grin that he has (silently) adored since the moment he met you. The reason he protested in the first place is because he knows how destroyed you would be if Arabella’s parents are dead. He doesn’t want you to hurt- for your heart to lose it’s optimism.

He hears you, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Gale come into camp. He steps out of the tent- hoping that you were able to achieve the outcome you wanted, that you would come parading into camp victorious.

He sees you talking to Arabella in a quiet whisper and he watches as your face contorts to hold back your own feelings as Arabella screams at you. He watches you take it- as she punches you in the stomach over and over. You just let her before she runs off. Withers says something to you quietly before you walk into your tent, closing yourself off from everyone.

Astarion feels stuck in the entryway of his tent. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Hey fangs,” Karlach says, offering a sad smile as she walks up to him, “you should probably know- they went over the rails after seeing Arabella’s parents.”

A look of confusion spreads across his face. What does that even mean? You were barely capable of hurting a fly!

“Like they became upset?”

Karlach nods with weary eyes,“They became upset and… well very, very, very violent.”

The tadpole behind his eyes begins to squirm as he allows Karlach to show him the scene.

He didn’t think you were capable of that much destruction. He saw angry tears slide down your face as you destroyed everything in your path. His gentle, joyful Cleric had broken in the House of Healing.

How ironic, he thinks bitterly.

He feels his own tears begin to prick his eyes as he watches you suffer through the battle- screaming and crying. He should have been there for you. He should have gone and let you be mad at him for disobeying. He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“She really needs you Fangs,” Karlach says to him, interrupting his train of thought.

Of course Karlach would say that as if it was the easiest thing in the world- like he hadn't been tortured and unloved for the past two centuries.

“I don’t know how to be what she needs right now,” he says in a soft voice.

It was true. He had only just expressed his feelings for you and he barely felt confident doing that to begin with. He spent two centuries seducing and manipulating whoever he could to survive. How could he be what you need right now? When he is just as much of a monster as the individuals that killed Arabella’s parents?

Karlach contemplates this, searching Astarion’s face as if the answer to all his problems would be there.

“You don’t need to do anything other than being there- tell them you are sorry. Tell them you were rooting for them because I saw it in your head. Tell them that they aren't alone,” Karlach pauses before saying, “And remind them that they are a good person- that Lliira wouldn’t abandon her in her suffering.”

Despite his fear and reluctance, he thanks Karlach for the advice and walks towards your tent.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Your body is shaking violently as your chest tightens and painful, silent sobs come out of your mouth. You are trying (and failing) to use your hand as a sound barrier.

It’s not about you, it’s about Arabella, you remind yourself, stop being so selfish.

Except the images are back, you are small again, helpless again, alone, and afraid. Despite your effort, Arabella has been given the same fate and in the same breath, you turned away from your Goddess. You lost yourself in the fight, you were aware of this while it was happening. You just didn’t have it in you to care anymore.

You hear footsteps approach your tent- you do the best to rub away the tears and snot.

It’s not about you.

You hear Astarion’s voice on the other side of the tent flap.

“Little love,” he says softly, “can I please come in?”

You laugh, your voice hoarse, “Come to tell me ‘I told you so?’ To gloat and laugh? If that is your intention, then no. You will need to wait one to five business days before you can do that.”

You don’t hear him laugh at your humorous response as he usually does. He enters the tent and you feel him sit down behind you, his legs on either side of yours. He’s tense as he puts his arms around you from behind, pulling you in between his legs. He slowly relaxes against your body, putting his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry Little Love. I wanted to be wrong. I just knew how much it would… hurt you if the outcome wasn’t… well.”

You sniff, choking back a sob as he begins drawing shapes on the back of your shaking hands.

“It’s okay my love. You can let it out. I’m here for you. You aren’t alone.”

Despite how clumsy and awkward it was said, that sentence alone broke whatever composure you still had. You cry and scream into your hand as Astarion holds onto you as if you are about to fly away and he is your anchor. Your breath is shallow and it’s hard to breathe as you suffocate on your grief and panic. You feel him ask for access to your mind, wanting to know how to help. So, you show him and you let all your grief pour into your cries. You feel his own tear mix with yours as he cries into your neck as he endures how you feel with you- as he watches your whole life fall apart because of one ambush over and over again.

He continues to trace patterns on your hands, asking you to focus on him and what he is doing, reminding you to breathe as you do for him when he is distressed.

You begin to calm as you focus on his voice, focus on his delicate fingers tracing your skin, and for once, you don’t feel so alone. You scoot forward, gently removing his arms , and turn around to face him, your tearful eyes meeting his.

He grabs your face gently and kisses your forehead as silent tears roll down both of your faces. You look down at your hands before speaking.

“I thought… I thought I could help Arabella be reunited with her family,” you say in a gravely whisper, “I had hoped she wouldn’t be alone like I was, but now…”

You suck in a harsh breath and look at your hands, “Gods, I am naive and stupid.”

“No- you do not get to talk about my favorite person that way,” Astarion says sharply.

You look up in surprise at the intensity of his words. He matches your eyes with a look of adoration, guilt, and a ferocity you have never seen before.

“Little Love, you are not naive and you are not stupid,” He pauses, to kiss one of your hands and intertwines your fingers together, “you are so good without trying because that is who you are. You experienced hardship and you didn’t let it destroy you. You didn’t become a monster.”

He looks at your face to gauge your reaction. You sit quietly, letting him continue to speak if he chooses so he does.

“You… you are amazing and a bright light in the darkness. You are my moon, my compass, and you have shown me parts of myself I didn’t know existed,” he clears his throat before continuing.

“ I hate to see you hurt, but I promise I will be here to help you through your suffering,” He stares into your eyes intensely, “for as long as you will have me.”

You pause, taking in everything he has just said to you. You felt like a star dying, exploding in the cosmos. You feel evil and wrong for the violence you inflicted on the Sisters and Malus in your need for revenge. Your actions were not of Lliira's will.

“I don’t know if that’s who I am anymore, Star. I engaged in senseless violence… I don’t think Lliira will forgive me- and if she does, it won’t be easy to obtain her forgiveness,” you say glumly.

He grabs your other hand in his and offers a soft smile.

“Then we will work together to get you back into favor with your Goddess and I will remind you everyday who you are until you believe in yourself again,” he says before leaving a chaste kiss on your lips.

You smile despite yourself, your chest glowing with warmth as you stare into his eyes. You know Astarion detests the Gods, but the fact that he was willing to help you made your eyes tear up again. You are horribly desperately in love with him and as much as you want to tell him that, you practice restraint. There is a time and place- that time is not now, not when the relationship just began.

“And what if I need it everyday for the rest of your Immortal life?” You say half-joking and half-afraid of his answer.

A wide, genuine grin spreads across Astarion’s face as your words register in his mind.

They want me to stay. They want me to be by their side-even when this is all done.

Astarion pulls you into his lap, your legs straddling his hips as he pulls you into him and presses a soft kiss against your neck before laying his head on your shoulder.

“Then I will stay by your side. Forever.”

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #astarion x gender neutral reader #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #karlach

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