#sorry the tadpoles have taken hold

[vashito]

Shadowbae 💜 patreon

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

You're Not Alone (pt 2)

And here is the requested part 2 of vampire spawn!Tav/reader! I'm pretty sure I injected more fluff into this one after the very dark part 1.

Taglist (I guess I could do one in the future): @silverfangmarks @astarioffsimpmain

Summary: You and Astarion deal with the aftermath that is you being turned into a vampire spawn.

After the events of Cazador’s palace, the group quietly head back to the inn, covered in blood and downcast. Astarion keeps his distance from your limp body gently cradled by Halsin, gaze fixed on the ground and disappears the moment the party reaches the inn.

“Where is the vampire spawn going?” Lae’zel hisses. “He is the reason why Y/N is like this, he should be here.”

“Leave him be, Lae’zel. He’s taken the events hard, give him some space for now.” Halsin chides, setting you down on a bed. Your physical injuries can be easily healed with some blood, fortunately Cazador hadn’t gotten far with his poem before the party had crashed the ritual so your scars wouldn’t be as bad as Astarion’s but the main issue is the emotional scarring. Halsin had hoped Astarion would remain by your side so that when you woke up, he could help you but the vampire had gone off by himself and Halsin wasn’t sure when he’d return.

The druid slices open a wound on his wrist and lets the blood drip into your slightly ajar mouth. Your throat bobs instinctively, swallowing the precious fluid but your eyes remain close. At least you’re drinking the blood, that was enough at this stage. He continues letting his blood drip into your mouth until your eyelids flutter and you stir slightly.

“Y/N.” He says. You groan in response, eyes opening blearily.

This place smelled different, looked different. You were in a different place, where were you? You shoot up, eyes wide and muscles tensed, ready to fight. A quick glance around the place told you you were in a room of sorts and the only other person around was Halsin.

“Where am I?” You croak. Your body felt cold, sore and you wanted nothing more than to fall into a deep slumber.

“You’re at Elfsong Tavern’s Inn. Don’t worry, you’re safe now. Cazador is gone, he can’t harm you anymore,” Halsin reassures you, but keeps a distance away to give you some space. You press a hand to your head as memories come rushing back to you. Astarion’s siblings coming for him, you defending him, Cazador appearing and kidnapping you, Astarion’s cry for you, Cazador using you as Astarion’s substitute in the ritual, the pain that followed, the others rescuing you, Astarion holding you tightly in his arms, comforting you…

'“Astarion,” you whisper, “where…”

“He’ll be back soon,” Halsin says, but you can tell he’s lying.

“You don’t know!” You snap accusingly, “stop lying! Where did he go?”

“Calm down, Y/N. After we brought you back, Astarion left for somewhere, although none of us know where or how long he will be gone. He still hasn’t returned.” Halsin raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t want to worry you after all you’ve just been through.”

“It’s just that simple! Just tell me! Like that!” You snarl, fangs bared. Halsin leans away so that your fangs are far enough from him and you realise what you’ve just done.

“I’m sorry. It’s not even your fault.” You sit back down on the bed, shoulders hunched. “Everything’s been so…much.”

Halsin shakes his head, “it’s quite alright. You have a lot to adjust to, with your new…condition.”

“At least the tadpole still lets me walk in the sun,” you give a hollow laugh, “if Astarion’s ability to do so is anything to go by.”

You smile sadly at the bed beneath you. “Things can never go back to the way it was, and I was so looking forward to doing so many things once we had our tadpoles removed too.”

Halsin remains quiet and you sit there in the silence with him, tears sliding down your cold cheeks. You curl up, hugging your knees to your chest, causing tears to stain your kneecaps. The warmth you once had is all gone now, replaced by a chill that reminds you of what you have lost, of what you once had.

“Are you still hungry?” Halsin quietly breaks the silence, extending his wrist towards you. You shake your head despite the sanguine hunger gnawing at you, afraid of what the act of feeding solidifies.

“Then I will take my leave first. Call me if you need anything.” The druid rises from the stool, sending you a look of concern but leaves you with your thoughts.

You stare at your hands, your cold undead hands and bite your lip. Your new fangs pierce through skin with ease, drawing a little blood and your nostrils flare instinctively at the scent. The sanguine hunger roars again, louder this time. It craves blood, it demands blood but you force it down as far as it can go. You hate it, you hate your new condition. You hate the thought that once your tadpole has been removed, you’ll never be able to enjoy the sun again, feel its warmth. You finally truly understand why Astarion had been so adamant about ascending, the temptation to do the same is strong.

Suddenly, a new scent floods your nose.

“Who’s there?” You call, glaring in the direction of the scent. Astarion steps into view, smiling a little too widely — a sign that he was nervous.

“You’re awake, darling. That’s good.” He moves to sit on your bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve just been turned into a vampire spawn?” He flinches at your words and you wish you could take them back.

“Sorry.” You mutter. “It’s just…a lot to take in.”

Astarion quietly looks down, fidgeting. The silence between the two of you isn’t the comfortable kind, the tension in the air waiting for one of you to cut it so you decide to take the initiative.

“What’s it like, being a vampire spawn. Is there anything I have to take note of?”

“It’s…something that takes time to get used to.” Astarion murmurs.

“Well, good thing I have you to guide me, don’t I?” You smile, reaching over to take his hand in yours. Both your hands are cold now, freezing to the touch, reminding Astarion of one more thing he has lost to Cazador.

“Even when permanently dead he still haunts me,” Astarion mutters, squeezing your hand tightly. “How badly did he scar you?”

The concern in his ruby red eyes is genuine, a softness you’ve missed filling the crimson orbs. You turn around despite everything in your body screaming at you not to, feeling yourself shake as you slip your top off, flashes of memories you’d rather keep buried burning through your mind. Astarion suppresses the angry growl that threatens to spill from his throat, hatred for Cazador burning once more and wishes he could drag the vampire lord from wherever dead vampires went just so he could make Cazador pay with pain a million times worse than yours.

You swallow as bile rises to your throat, the overwhelming scent of your blood filling your nose, screams of pain flooding your mind, then the scent you’ve saved as Astarion’s fills your nose as he wraps his arms around you, whispers of love falling from his lips.

“It’s alright darling, I’ve got you. I promise you’re safe. Focus on my voice, breathe together with me.” He whispers into your ear. “In…out…in…out…”

Through the haze, you struggle to regain control of your body, tears blurring your vision once more but with Astarion’s help, you find a breathing rhythm and grasp tightly onto it.

In, out. In, out.

When the room shifts back into focus, you realise that the scent of your blood wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. Long claw marks decorate your arms, your clawed fingertips stained crimson while the sheets beneath soak up whatever has dripped onto it.

“Shit, I’m a mess,” you whimper.

“Everyone is,” Astarion reassures you, pulling a bottle out. “Here, you’ll need to drink this. All of it. Don’t leave a single drop.”

The sweet scent of blood fills the air as he uncorks the bottle and your hunger growls, eager to lap it all up but you push his hand and the bottle away. “I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” Astarion scowls. “I’m not going to let you starve yourself to death, trust me, you do not want to be starving as a vampire. It’s worse than death.”

“I don’t want to drink another person’s blood,” you croak weakly. The very thought of doing so makes you want to vomit, but your body says otherwise.

“It’s bear blood. I went out to hunt and came across a bear,” Astarion swirls the bottle. “I promise I’m not lying.”

You cautiously take the bottle from him, lifting it up to your lips. You have to trust him on this, it’s not like you know how bear blood smells like as a vampire. Locking gazes with him, you tilt the bottle, letting the sweet liquid wash down your throat. Strange new flavours burst in your mouth but it’s a pleasant taste and sends a tingle down your spine. Soon, you’re greedily sucking the bottle dry until there is not a drop left.

“There, not so bad, is it?” Astarion leans in to give you a peck on your cheek. “Now, your instincts should help but this is the best place to drink from on a wrist.”

He points to a spot on his wrist and lifts it up to your lips, “give it a try.”

You eye him warily and he sighs at your reluctance, “I can’t keep giving you bottles of blood to drink from, love. You’re going to need to learn how to feed yourself.”

“But I don’t want to,” you mumble. Astarion frowns but doesn’t push the matter further, instead he reaches for the medical kit Halsin has left behind and starts to clean up the dried blood on your arms. You let him, silently watching as the cloth starts to turn brown.

“There, all beautiful and blemish-free again,” he presses kisses along the length of both your arms, tossing the cloth aside. “Being…this doesn’t change anything about you, love. You’re still the same person, and that is more than enough for me.”

He cups your cheeks, letting his thumbs run over the skin of your cheeks. Leaning in, he presses his forehead against yours and feels you wrap your arms around him. With a small smile, he pulls you in, feeling your head rest on his shoulder as he embraces you tightly, breathing in your new scent. One of his hands gently rests on the back of your head, fingers running through your matted hair.

“You’re not alone. I’ll always be here for you, right by your side whenever you need me. That I promise. I won’t let you go through what I went through, I won’t let you be alone in this.” He swears, holding you tightly. “We’ll face this together, side by side.”

You clutch desperately at his tunic, crying for what feels like the millionth time today into his chest and he lets you, ignoring the way your tears dampen and stain his clothes. Instead, he curls around you, wishing he could shield you from the world and the suffering he knows is to come and cherishes the way you cling onto him, the way you so clearly trust him with everything you have. No one had ever bared their soul like this to him, even all his prey had always kept a thing or two from him, no matter how sweet the lies he used to ensnare them.

You were different. You had let your walls down around him, bared your sweet neck at him, let him drink the first night he had tried drinking your blood instead of staking him on the spot and in return he had fallen for you. He let you have his back, let you into the shattered pieces he called his heart and let you see his broken self, hoping it wouldn’t scare you off and it hadn’t. Now you were the broken one and you had let him see it all, returning the favour was only natural but it wasn’t the only reaosn he was doing all this. He wanted to help you without needing anything in return, he wanted to see you smile again, he wanted to…he wanted to show you how much he truly loved you.

He had changed, that much he knew. It wasn’t long ago when he’d have chosen to ascend no matter the cost, but that night when he had seen you bound by glyphs with Infernal being carved into your back, all he could think about was how if he ascended you would be sacrificed too. He couldn’t bring himself to do that, he couldn’t sacrifice you no matter what he would gain in return.

He wouldn’t have needed to consider that if you hadn’t been turned into a vampire spawn.

Years of self-hatred gnaw away at him, reminding him of his failure, hisweakness that had led to this whole mess. If only he had been stronger, faster, better, then maybe you wouldn’t have to suffer his fate, the fate of a vampire spawn. His thoughts tear into him again and again, berating him, a whirling wind of destruction that threaten to unravel him. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes, fighting the darkness that threatens to drown him. He doesn’t have time for this, he has to help you adjust, to be there whenever you’re drowning and he can’t do that if he’s wallowing in self-deprecation. Those damned thoughts can wait another day.

A quick glance down lets him know you’ve fallen asleep in his arms, worn out from recent events and he lets out a soft sigh, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I meant everything I said, my love,” he says, knowing you can’t hear his words but that’s fine by him. He doesn’t want you to hear his next words anyways. “I love you.”

[vixstarria]

Another gift

This is a continuation of my headcanon of Astarion’s romance with bard Tav. I can’t remember the actual chronology of cutscenes, but let’s assume this takes place after you’ve started a sexual relationship with Astarion and are beginning to grow closer. I was going to take it in a different direction initially, but these things have a mind of their own once they get going. 

If you like it, check out my first fic. I do plan on writing more! 

P.S. I may have taken some liberties with the game background story and DnD lore and magic system here – if it doesn’t really match up or make sense – sorry! Also I’m still only on Act 2. 

Tav tries to comfort or distract a brooding Astarion. 

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav  

Comfort, fluff, budding love, humour, angst, banter, no spoilers, non-explicit 

Approximately 2,000 words. 

AO3

 

Astarion was standing outside his tent with his back to the camp, staring into a silver mirror. The man had either lost his vampiric condition, lost his mind, or was simply brooding.  

“Looking at something?” he asked absent-mindedly, as you approached. 

Brooding. Definitely brooding.  

“Looking for something.” 

“Oh?” He turned towards you. “Just my company, or is there something else I can offer you?” 

“I'm the one making an offering, actually. I thought I’d bring you a little snack” 

Astarion grinned and beckoned you inside his tent.  

Inside, aside from his bedroll, was a trunk with a large mirror opposite, a lit lantern and a scattering of weapons, equipment and books. You assumed your usual position, cross-legged on the bedroll, and offered him your wrist. This didn’t take long. Just a little pick me up.  

He finished, planting a light kiss on your wrist, reached for his amulet and whispered an incantation to heal the wound. He kept hold of your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.  

“Do you have any idea how much I appreciate that you don’t sexualise this?”  

“I haven’t thought about it... Really?” 

“Well imagine that any time you went to, say, take a bite of a turkey leg, there was someone staring, groping themselves and wagging their tongue at you. When you’re just trying to perform basic functions to stay alive.” 

“Sweetheart, that’s an average evening at the pub for me, when I perform. With or without me biting on anything. ...But I see what you mean”. You contemplated what he just said in a brief silence. “I can't believe you just compared me to a turkey leg.” 

“You’re more of a ripe, juicy peach” he said. You found yourself oddly pleased to be compared to fruit rather than poultry. 

You glanced at the large mirror standing on the floor of the tent.  

“You own an awful lot of mirrors for a vampire. Why do you even keep this here?” 

“That? Oh, it reflects light... makes the tent appear more spacious... prevents anyone from sneaking up on me. ...Unless they’re another vampire.” Astarion said contemplatively. “And I figured, I woke up once with a tadpole in my brain that let me walk in the sun again – who's to say I won’t catch another parasite tomorrow that might cure my vampirism entirely?” 

“Do you miss it? Seeing your own face?” 

“Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity? Of course I miss it. I’ve never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red. My face is just some dark shape in my past. Another thing I’ve lost. I wouldn’t even recognise myself anymore. It’s been two hundred years.” 

“But...” you fumbled, trying to wrap your mind around that. “You could have found a street artist to sketch you since then.” 

“In the middle of the night?” 

“Or commissioned a portraitist, those artistic types would accommodate you any time of day or night” 

“Commissioned a - …I’m sorry, at what point did I give you the impression that Cazador paid us an allowance..?” Astarion was growing agitated. “And before you say I could have stolen – remember, everything I had, anything I acquired by any means, the clothes on my back, my body, my will – it all belonged to the master.” He paused, regaining control of his demeanour. “There was no point in having any possessions, it would all be the bastard’s in the end. I didn’t want to give him any more than I absolutely had to.” 

You kicked yourself in the ass mentally.  

“Well how’s this... We get to Baldur’s Gale. We exterminate Cazador and take over his palace. Then we rip out whatever he’s got as décor, commission all the best artists, and hang paintings of you on every wall. There will be nothing but portraits of Astarion everywhere.” Astarion’s eyes softened as he watched you gesticulating and getting carried away by your own imagination. “Astarion in shining armour. Astarion on a horse. Astarion on silk bedsheets, half-covered in rose petals. Pirate Astarion. Astarion stroking a cat. Historic events, but every single person depicted is Astarion. Oh! And in the main banquet hall, there will be an enormous mural of you, fully naked, lounging on a divan and being fed grapes by a cadre of nymphs.” 

“With a fig leaf covering my unmentionables?” 

“A comically large fig leaf. Or better yet, no fig leaf, just your full unmentionable glory looming over the dining table” You paused, as if sobering up after being lost in your grand vision, and added in a more serious tone: “We can commission busts and statues, too. Get a mold of your face for a hyper-realistic one.” 

“We” he whispered, as if to himself, with a scornful chuckle.  

“Oh? Do you have someone else in Baldur’s Gate you’d rather spend time with?” You realised how callous that might have come across as soon as the words were out, and cringed inwardly. 

“...No, I don’t” he said absently. 

“Elves live long lives... Do you still have real family there? Friends from... before? ...A spouse? Children?” You'd wondered about this before, and figured you may as well lie in the hole you’d dug for yourself.  

“Gods, no!” Astarion blinked in surprise. “I wasn’t even considered a full adult by elven society then. No, mercifully I didn’t leave any little Astarions behind. All my friends from my youth are either dead or have blissfully forgotten me. And I don’t even know where my family is.” 

You gave him a sympathetic and questioning look, waiting for him to go on. He sighed and continued. 

“As you might expect, Cazador placed a restriction on me, preventing me from telling anyone about my affliction. I couldn’t approach my old acquaintances and go ‘Surprise! I’m actually alive! ...Sort of. I’m just someone’s vampire spawn slave now!’. No. I was to turn around and walk the other way if I ever came upon anyone who might recognise me. I was supposed to be devoted only to my new ‘family’.” he scowled. “I feared that Cazador would use anyone he thought might be important to me against me - for fun, or to teach me a ‘lesson’. And he would have, too: the mental torture he unleashed on his spawn was far worse than physical.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I couldn’t go and see my family, but as soon as I had my wits about me, I managed to arrange for one of the mercenary guilds to quickly escort my relatives out of the city. They were to be told that I made some powerful enemies who had me murdered, and that these enemies would come for them next. That they had to leave, change their names, and never return. I don’t know where they went. I can’t know, if I want them to be safe.” He looked away. “I can’t imagine how much they hated and cursed me. I ruined their lives.” he whispered. 

“You saved them!” you objected, taking his hand. He shrugged but squeezed your hand back. 

“I suppose I might have. Cazador would’ve left their heads on spikes in my crypt by now, otherwise.” He met your eyes again. “So yes, if anyone is going to be helping me decorate a palace, it’s you.” he added with a false cheer, clearly finished with the topic of Cazador.  

You thought he might want to be alone then and were about to leave, but he gently pulled you towards himself. He was sitting on the ground with his back against a trunk. You settled between his legs, your back against his chest, his lips right at your ear, one arm across your shoulders and chest, the other playing with your hair. The large mirror was on the ground right in front of you. He studied your reflection over your shoulder. You appeared to be lounging suspended at an odd angle.  

“How does it even work, anyway... It’s not just your body that disappears, it’s your clothing, too”. You grabbed a hat from the top of the trunk, holding it by its crown, and held it over Astarion’s head, moving it in circles against his hair. “Now you see it...” You let go and watched it disappear in the reflection. “Now you don’t.” 

“I’m actually not sure, darling. Maybe it needs to be supported solely by me. Or it’s got to do with movement” He threw the hat back onto the trunk, where it reappeared in the reflection. 

“Say...” threw your head back to look up into his eyes “Do you think my reflection would disappear... if a part of you was inside?” you bit your lip and grinned mischievously.  

“I don’t think so, but I love how that dirty mind of yours works” he purred in your ear. “Let’s check and find out” His hand slid towards the clasp of your pants, but you swatted it away. 

“Later.” Suddenly you were on a mission. “I have an idea.” 

The rest of your group were gathered around the fire as you made a dash for your tent and grabbed your kit of stage paints and powders.

“Chk, are you doing each other’s makeup in there?” came a scoff from Lae’zel, as you rushed past. 

“Don’t be jealous, Lae. We’ll have a girls night and braid each other’s hair tomorrow” you retorted, making Shadowheart choke on her drink.  

Back in Astarion’s tent, you reached for one of your loose facial powders. 

“You really don’t need to do anything, I’m used to it and nothing will work anyway” protested a confused and weary Astarion. 

“Astarion!” you said gravely, “This isn’t for you. This is for science”, and you blew the powder hard into his face. Sure enough, an outline of his features appeared briefly in the mirror, as the powder flew all around him. “It worked!” 

“Fan-tastic! Too bad you had to blind me to achieve that split second of a silhouette!” he coughed and rubbed at his eyes. 

“It should work with water, too, if you want me to pour some over your head. You need to wash all that powder off anyway, you look ridiculous.”  

He glared at you through the still flying powder particles and pointed a finger at your face.  

“No.” 

“Actually, hang on, I have a better idea.” You heard him groan into his hands behind you, as you ran back to your tent, to return with an amulet.  

“So, the good news is, I am really, really bad at this.” 

“If this involves setting me on fire again...” 

“That was an accident. Anyway... No, this lets me create a fog cloud. Or so it should. I can just barely manage some fog tendrils. Now if I just aim them at your face...” You concentrated on the spell. Whisps of fog appeared around Astarion. “Look...” As the fog tendrils twisted in the air, you could just make out a form that they floated around, in the reflection, one unmistakably of a face.  

“Well...” breathed Astarion, transfixed by the reflection, trying to make motions with his head to make the fog recoil. “It’s not much, but it’s more than I’ve seen in centuries” 

“Come on” you grasped his hand. “Let’s go outside, it needs a different light and a slight breeze” 

Astarion snatched his handheld mirror and followed you. He was actually eager.  

Outside, Astarion spun in the whispy fog, gazing at the mirror in disbelief, as you continued to concentrate on the spell. It was actually working. Your conjuration magic was just bad enough to make the thinnest layer of fog, framing his face like a delicate mask and reflecting in the mirror. What would have been considered incredibly precise work by a wizard, was made possible entirely thanks to you borderline failing.  

“That’s better... I’ll channel the fog right, you turn left against it. No, your other left! No, don’t go into the fire, you idiot, it won’t be my fault this time” 

You grabbed Astarion by the hand and tried to guide him away from fire and anything he could trip over – he was paying exactly zero mind to anything around him, as he semi-stumbled in circles, looking in the mirror. Scratch ran around you, barking, excited for a new game, and eventually tripped you both. 

“Another gift...” Astarion smiled at you, as Scratch did his utmost to lick his face.  

Meanwhile, the group watched the two of you from a distance, dumbfounded. Lae'zel broke the silence: 

“Your people have the strangest mating rituals.”  

“Should I... should I tell them I can probably just cast mirror image on him? I’ve only done it on myself, but it should follow the same principle” added Gale. 

“Maybe tomorrow” said Shadowheart. “Just let them enjoy this tonight.” 

~~~~~

Next in series

AO3

[littlelovelyra]

The First Move. (Pt 2 of The Change)

Astarion x F!Tav

This time she will not get away. This time Aurelia will pay for helping him. You want to hear her scream.

3,344 words.

Part 2/? I’m thinking of making this a series leading up to C*zador’s demise. I’ve switched perspectives a few times here because there were certain moments I wanted from Astarion’s eyes and not Tav’s, I hope it’s easy to follow.

Part one here

Mature themes Minors DNI

Summary: It has been a few weeks since Cazador turned you into a spawn and returned you to your lover in the hopes of destroying him. He was so sure Astarion would leave you behind and give up. Instead, Astarion has embraced you and your changes, providing you with all the love and care that you had given him. He has seen how hard it has been for you to get used to this new way of living, as you haven’t been yourself. To distract you, he has taken you out for a lesson on hunting. However, it seems there are other plans in store for your evening.

Warnings: Fluff, cuteness, sappy, mentions of Cazador/abuse (I try not to do this too intensely), suggestive flirting/language, death, Tav gets called a wh*re so there’s a warning for that too.

Tav:

As you sit on the balcony of the Elfsong Tavern, you hear his voice lingering in the back of your mind, “I have big plans for you”. The sun sets across the sky, painting it a beautiful pink and orange, and you catch yourself savouring the view, knowing that once the tadpole is gone, you will not have the luxury of witnessing such beauty again in person. However, your thoughts keep returning to Astarion. You imagine him all alone, going through these changes with nobody by his side, and your heart aches for him. How much pain and loneliness he must have experienced all these years.

The nightmares are always the same. You find yourself in a cold, wet cell as Cazador throws you around like you weigh nothing. It all happens so fast. Panic and fear take over your entire being as he bites down on your neck. Once he leaves the cell, you look down at your hands, only to realise they are not yours. No, these hands belong to Astarion. Shortly after, you are transported out of his body, looking into his cell, watching him cower in fear, his soul breaking repeatedly. That’s when your screaming begins.

“So my sweet, what do you think?” He asks you, taking both your hands in his and dropping his gaze to meet your eyes.

"What do I think about what?" you ask, looking confused. Concern floods his features instantly. "Sorry, I've done it again, haven't I?" You squeeze his hands and offer him a small apologetic smile. A feeling of shame courses through you. He's been so good to you since your change. He never lets go of you during the evenings, holding you through the nightmares just as you held him through his. You want to be more present for him, but your lingering thoughts betray you. Every good thing he does to support you, you just can't help thinking how he had no one.

His hands gently cradle your face as he leans in, resting his forehead against yours. "You never have to apologise to me, my love. I understand what you're going through. I'm here if you want to talk about it," he says softly. He brushes his lips against yours, kissing you slowly. A tear escapes your stinging eyes and trails down your cheek, meeting your lips. He pulls back for a moment, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace. His body no longer feels cool to the touch, you had always wondered what it would feel like if the two of you ran at the same temperature, and now you know. At first, you mourned the coolness of his skin, but this warmth, this closeness, makes you feel his love even more deeply.

“I had asked you if you would like to come hunting with me this evening?” He’s moved back again and watches your face cautiously, you see he doesn’t want to pressure you, his eyes filled with unwavering love and patience. 

“I would like that very much, Star.” You reach your hand up and stroke his cheek feeling your heart swell as he closes his eyes, leaning his lips towards your palm and breathes out a sigh of relief. 

“Come on then.” He takes your hand in his as he stands and leads you to the ladder back down to your private quarters.

________

Astarion:

 “First, we need to get changed into darker attire, to blend into our surroundings easily so we don’t draw any attention to ourselves” You shift out of your shirt and move towards her, gently removing her blouse, running your fingers down her arms making sure you stop to hold her hands and kiss her cheek. 

Turning to the cupboard you retrieve two long-sleeved leather tops, two hoods and two black trousers. As you hand her one set she arches her eyebrow and looks at you with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Matching hunting outfits?” A short soft giggle escapes her mouth and you spring to life at the sound. 

“Do that again, little love.” You say wrapping your arms around her. Your skin feels warm against hers, Gods it’s been weeks since you have heard her laugh. You would give anything to hear it again. “So loved. You are so loved. You don’t even realise how much of my heart you have.” Your thoughts press into hers, you rarely use the tadpole but there are moments such as this where you make exceptions. Words that are only meant for her, you send them straight into her mind filling it with as much love as you possibly can. She buries her head against your bare chest and you feel a small smile spread across her face. 

“I can feel you smiling darling, that's not very nice of you to keep such a beautiful thing hidden from me.” Your words are an exaggerated whine. She doesn’t budge as soft giggles start bubbling from her, sending small shivers down your spine at the sound. “Would it surprise you to know that not only did I get us matching hunting outfits but I had also purchased us matching lacy under clothes, bows and all. Bright magenta even. I thought It may accentuate my wonderful figure.” Your tone is playful as you step back giving a little playful twirl. 

She pauses for a moment then laughter erupts from her while a wide smile spreads across her face and you feel as though you just might die at the sight of it. You meet her gaze with your smile plastered across your face as you make your way back to her. Swooping her up, you kiss her deeply and gently place her back onto the ground. “As much as I love being your personal clown, my love, time is of the essence here and we have some hunting to do.”

You both change into your hunting clothes and set off hand in hand.

****

After a short walk just outside of Rivington, you find yourselves perched behind a boulder carefully tracking a bear that is lazily moving through a clearing heading right towards you. For a brief moment, you wonder how your friend Halsin may feel knowing what your choice of cuisine has been as of late.

“Okay, my sweet, the trick here is to wait for the right opportunity to attack. Patience is key, if we move a second too early or late that could cost us our meal.” You have chosen to communicate this through the tadpole to ensure that everything goes according to plan. She needs a decent meal and this bear could fill you both easily.

“What’s with the berries we placed? Is it really going to fall for that?” She sends a mental note back, you sense a bit of doubt coating her words. You simply turn to look at her and raise your eyebrows acting offended, she silently raises her hands in surrender.

Just as you had planned the bear spots the berries and cautiously approaches them, scanning its surroundings. “Hold absolutely still, do not breathe. Once it lowers its guard it will drop its head and start eating. The very moment its mouth touches the berries we flank each of its sides and I’ll make the move. Understood?” You look at her and she nods her head ever so slightly.

The bear dips its head to eat and you take your opportunity, the two of you flanking each of its sides and before it even has a moment to react you are at its neck, swiftly and mercifully bringing it to its end.

“You first, my love. Drink till you feel satisfied.” You watch a she slowly approaches the bear, whispers something in its ear, strokes its face, and sinks her teeth into the creature. Moments later she steps aside for you and you take your fill.

The two of you find yourself lying in the clearing staring at the stars. You can’t help but feel somewhat reflective of the first moment the two of you found yourselves alone in a clearing. She was so trusting, so soft, you close your eyes offering a silent thanks to whatever gods brought her into your life.

She shifts turning on her side to face you and you turn on yours moving closer to her. You extend your arms and wrap her into an embrace breathing her in. She smells of cinnamon and petrichor… cool, refreshing but also warm and homey. The moment is interrupted as you feel her body stiffen beside you.

“What is it, my love?” You watch her gaze staring behind you. Slowly you turn yourself and you see Leon approaching you and your beloved. Again. Just like the night in the tavern. You both spring to your feet and you hold her firm behind you.

“One more fucking step and you will not live to see another day.” You hiss out as you ready yourself for a fight.

“Come, brother, you have proven your point. Bring her with, he will forgive you.” Leon speaks slowly as he inches forward two steps.

“Ignis!” You fling out a firebolt landing right at his feet. “I said don’t. Fucking. Move.” You growl through gritted teeth. You know Aurelia will be somewhere nearby, they never travel alone.

As if on cue she steps out into the clearing to your side and you feel Tav shift her attention to Aurelia, her body begins to shake as your arm stays protectively in front of her. She starts to step out from behind you, and you notice her hands moving in a fluid motion, a pale purple light emanates from them. You know this spell. She is going to cast a hold on Aurelia.

“Going somewhere?” She cocks her head to the side, with a small smirk, her voice is soft and menacing as she extends her hands outward successfully trapping Aurelia in place. Reaching into your boot you retrieve a dagger and expertly throw it straight into Leon’s chest, just missing his heart.

“If I were you, brother, I would be running now.” You start stalking forward as Leon disappears in a cloud of red ash, leaving Aurelia trapped by the hold spell.

“Darling, how long can you concentrate for me? I would love to have a word with my beloved sister.” You kiss her cheek as she walks with you toward the trapped spawn.

This time she will not get away. This time Aurelia will pay for helping him. You want to hear her scream.

_____

Tav:

As you focus on Aurelia, your eyes never waver from hers, your concentration unbroken. The rage building inside you feels like it could set you on fire. In the background, you can hear Astarion rummaging through his backpack.

“What are you looking for Star?” You call out to him.

“Don’t worry about me, just, hold her there. You’re doing great my love… AHA! There it is!” He walks past you, places an amulet around Aurelia’s neck, and grips her wrists firmly with his hands. “Alright, you can drop the hold now, she won’t be able to go anywhere. I… “obtained” this amulet from some weirdo in an alleyway back in Baldur’s Gate. The wearer can't use any form of magic and yes before you ask I already got Gale to fact-check this. It will work.”

You release the holding spell and watch as Aurelia tries to teleport herself and Astarion from the clearing. Her eyes widen in panic as she realises that she cannot move. "Why can't I move, Astarion?! Let me go, brother!" Her voice rises in fear.

“Hah! Haha! Leaving so soon sister? I thought you were up for a little family reunion?” He says twisting her arms as he drags her to a nearby tree. “Tav darling, please be a dear and get the rope from my backpack. We need to secure our guest.” His eyes meet yours as a sly grin spreads across his features. You simply nod, retrieve the rope and help him tie her to the tree.

You watch as he pulls another blade from his boot and lifts it, running the sharp edge slowly down her cheek. She wails in pain as blood trickles down her face.

His voice is low, the words coated in venom as a growl forms deep in the back of his throat: “You dared to show your face near me again? Near her?" The sound sends a cold chill down your spine. “You have made a grave mistake finding us again, sister. And this time… I am afraid you will not be returning to your Master. No. Your little part in this game ends here.” He takes his dagger and thrusts it into her side, a blood-curdling scream erupts from her mouth.

“You can kill me brother, but he will find you and your little whore of a pet. He will take her you know? His most beautiful spawn. Heard it myself” She spits the words in your direction as you watch Astarion’s body become tense.

_____

Astarion:

Whore? Rage fills your body, causing your hands to tremble. His most beautiful spawn. You level your gaze with Aurelia and breathe out “I’m going to fucking kill you… and then… then I’m going to kill him and ANYONE ELSE who even looks at her the wrong way.” Before she can retort you swiftly thrust the blade upward and end her sorry existence.

You wipe the blade clean on the corpse’s attire and retrieve the amulet from its neck. Slowly you approach your lover, cautiously placing your hands on either side of her arms. Her eyes have grown distant again and you pull her against your body. “Come, we’re done here. That will put a few obstacles in the way of the ascension.”

**

You arrive back in your room at the Elfsong Tavern and guide her to sit on the bed. She hasn’t said a single word since leaving the clearing. You prepare a warm bath for both of you, dropping sprigs of lavender in the water. As the scent slowly starts to fill the air, you inhale deeply. Walking back to the bed you kneel before her, assisting her with her boots and carefully start to undress her. Taking her hand in yours you lead her to the tub and gently lift her over its edge. She slowly sinks into the water, and her muscles begin to relax, releasing the tension they’ve been holding.

You undress from your bloodied clothing, chucking them in the corner of the room, grabbing a washcloth to wipe off the blood on your skin before you climb into the tub and settling yourself behind her. You grab the soap and sponge and you start slowly working the soap into a lather on her back. Her head drops forward slightly and she exhales a shaky breath as she brings her hands to her face. Her body begins to shake with soft sobs that make your chest feel like it’s caving in. Saying nothing you tenderly rotate her to face you as you wrap your arms around her, bringing her against your chest in a cuddle.

Your head rests atop hers “Shhh little love. I’ve got you. You are safe.” You run your hand up and down her back and place a soft kiss on her temple.

“He won’t stop will he?” She says quietly into your chest.

“I’m afraid not my sweet. He might be all the more furious now since he’ll need to replace Aurelia for the rite.” You know she needs to hear the truth, it’s no use sugarcoating the situation. “We will get through this. You will get through this. You will adjust to this new life, I know you didn’t choose it, not many of us do. But, you are not alone and I will be here when you are ready to talk about it. I can see it eating away at you.” You press the palm of your hand against her cheek as she looks up at you she presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“Astarion… it’s not that I don’t want to talk about what happened to me. I… I have accepted it. The reason I have been so silent is because all I can think about is how you had no one. You went through all of these changes, alone… I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have felt like.” Her eyes scan your face as she continues, “The support you have offered me, I can’t stop thinking about how you never had this and it breaks my heart. It makes me hate him more than anything I have ever hated. I have never felt this much hatred towards another being in my existence. I’m scared of him getting his hands on you. I will do anything, anything to keep you safe. I thank the gods it was me they grabbed that night.” Her eyes glisten with the tears that are making their escape down her cheeks.

Incredible. You think to yourself, her life changed overnight and all she can think about is you over these last few weeks. How lucky you are to know a love like this. Never in your 200 years did you think you would be out of Cazador’s grip let alone finding love and feeling the most seen you have ever felt.

“Little love… you are… so selfless.” You scatter tender kisses over her face. “You have shown me a love that I never believed existed. You make me feel seen, heard and safe. With you, I feel like I can take on the nine hells themselves. You don’t need to worry about what I went through. Although it was… difficult… it led me to you, to this and I would do it all again if it meant you were waiting for me at the end.” You bring her lips to yours and kiss her deeply, feeling her body melt into yours as she wraps her arms around your neck. She rests her head on your shoulder, and you both stay there, enveloped in the warmth of the water and your embrace.

“I promise you this, Cazador will die by my hand and it will be a painful death.” You whisper into her hair breathing in her scent.

“As long as I am there to watch you do it.” She whispers back her breath cool against your neck.

“As you wish, darling.” Your smile spreads softly across your face. You know, and you believe that even he knows… Cazador is on borrowed time.

You are coming for him.

***********

Part 3 here

[chaoticbardlady99]

Lethal Woman: Chapter 5 (GN! Reader x Astarion)

  Note: I know a lot of people don't necessarily read this piece of my work, but for the people who do, I'm sorry for the wait! This one is kinda angsty and still digs into the character's background. I want to create a Durge x Astarion type of relationship rather than a Tav x Astarion type of relationship so the character has some trauma.

Also this character is my way of working through my own traumatic experiences so I guess sorry????

CW: Violence, Gore, mention of Child/Teen SA (very very brief), death, torture, PTSD, murder, dissociation, and panic attacks.

Background- You are a Nightmask Death Bringer who was kidnapped by a Nautiloid Ship. Along with 6 strangers, you search Faerun for a cure for the Tadpoles in your heads- before it’s too late.

Chapter Six

You have never enjoyed verbal confrontation- not because you weren’t good at it, but because it feels like a waste of time when it’s so much easier to throw knives at the problem. You know that it comes from a place of survival- arguing with Dahlia always ended in you being tortured for however many days or nights she felt like you deserved. You learned to stop arguing after the first few months of your training and just do what Dahlia told you to do.

The only verbal confrontations you have engaged in recently was during your assignments, but they were always brief and forgotten quickly.

However, your argument with Astarion three days ago has consumed your every waking thought. 

  You honestly weren’t sure what chain of events had led to the explosive discussion involving confronting the three Goblin Leaders when the day had started so typically.

You and your companions (minus Astarion) all agreed that going to the grove to fight Kagha is a priority and that they couldn’t allow the Shadow Druids to take over the grove. Astarion, however, hadn’t seen it that way. He kept insisting that it was a waste of time, resources, and energy. You didn’t mind the bitching at all- you weren’t necessarily thrilled about “saving the day” either and if it were just adults you would walk away from the whole ordeal- except there are children who need to be protected. 

 It’s your one and only rule- you do not abandon children in need. You don’t want anyone to ever fall into the wrong hands like you had. Eventually, Astarion stopped being huffy.

The fight had erupted quickly and Kagha had managed to slip into the shadows unnoticed in the midst of the chaos. You had barely seen her in time when you realized she was going to run Astarion through with a stake. 

 You had never sprinted so fast in your entire life as you put yourself between him and Kagha, grabbing the stake that was mere inches from your chest. You would have felt entirely victorious if she hadn’t then stabbed you all the way through with the shortsword she had attached to her belt- twisting it deeply into your abdomen until you release the stake. You feel her pull the sword out before stabbing you through your chest with the sharpened wood. 

 You had always thought stabbing a vampire with a stake as a tried and trued method of killing them was stupid- anyone would die if they were stabbed hard enough with a WOODEN FUCKING STAKE. 

  Maybe Dahlia was right- maybe being attached to people is a bad idea because you hadn’t even taken a good look at Kagha before you ran (which is reckless and not how you were trained to fight). 

  You had heard Shadowheart scream your name and saw two flaming hands go past your face as they consumed Kagha. The black dots in your vision had been followed with the unpleasant numbness that you knew all too well. 

 The fear sank into your bones like an anchor. Your breathing had begun to speed up and you felt the panic rip through you as you were being dragged away- unpleasant images flash in your mind and you started to thrash against the person holding you. You began screaming bloody murder and you clawed at the air like a trapped animal. You could barely hear the person’s voice over your looping thoughts and racing heart.

    No, no, no, no, no. Please. I’ll listen. I’ll do anything, just don’t kill me. Don’t leave me here. I’ll do better. I’ll be better!

   You hadn’t known until the end of the battle that Astarion had been the one carrying you away and had to hold you down as Shadowheart and Nettie came rushing to your aid after the final enemy went down.

  You could hear two voices trying to snap you out of whatever fear driven fog you were in, but you were still choking on your own air, floating away in space. Disconnected. Disassociated. You felt the tadpole wiggle behind your eyes, but you were too far gone in your head to even register it.

  Dahlia had killed and resurrected you a few times as a punishment. Sometimes she would leave you out in the sun for a few days before resurrecting you- the process of your skin, organs, muscles, and tendons repairing themselves after being eaten by critters and bugs is a different kind of pain- one you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. What was even worse was that Dahlia eventually found out how to bring you back just enough that you were aware of the vermin desecrating your body, but not enough for you to do anything about it- forced to feel yourself becoming nourishment for the creatures in the forest as you struggled to survive mentally. 

  Dahlia threatened to turn you into her spawn if you didn't remain half way in your body until she came back to get you. You knew her threat was serious because she had taken you coffin shopping after the first time she killed and resurrected you. You had gone for a wood one so that the endeavor could be over with, but Dahlia instead made you lay down in every coffin on display in the showroom- ultimately picking a gaudy, lockable, and iron coffin for you. You were 13-years-old. 

   Dahlia enjoyed driving you to the brink of insanity- only to come back and be your savior or your villain. Somehow she had convinced you that it’s entirely up to you what version of her you received, but it never mattered how well you listened sometimes. She told you you wouldn’t know when she would decide you were past the point of no return and no longer had any use for you as a Deathbringer. Thank the Gods she wanted to make you a Deathbringer more than she wanted you to be her spawn.  

  You weren’t sure when Nettie had forced an herb into your mouth that calms you down; you had eventually come back to yourself just enough to stop fighting her and Shadowheart’s efforts to heal you. 

  Karlach was sitting next to your head and was talking about nothing and everything. Astarion had sat himself on the staircase nearby and you could feel his eyes boring into you as you flinched away and hissed from the healers’ touch. You tried to make yourself smaller, your anxiety getting worse by the minute. It wouldn’t bother you usually, but you weren’t of sound mind in that particular moment. 

 As you became more alert, you made eye contact with Astarion and you were shocked to see him staring at you with anger and grief in his eyes. 

  You hadn’t known (and still didn’t know) that Astarion had been in your head using the tadpole to try to snap you out of whatever hell you were in and he had seen all of it- every last thing Dahlia did to you. The time she hired a man to violently take your virginity after your first moon blood at 14, the resurrections, the priests of Loviatar that would come for days on end to beat you until you wanted to die, and Tessa. Poor, sweet, beautiful Tessa with her mangled corpse and heart being eaten. 

   The walk to camp had thankfully been an easy one. Gale had thankfully had dinner ready by the time your group came back and you sat around the campfire to have dinner with the others. Astarion sat next to you and you couldn’t help but notice how rigid he was. He would usually have his leg touching yours and he would lean in to whisper some snide remark in your ear about whoever was talking- forcing you to suppress laughter as to not bring attention to the two of you.

 Except for tonight apparently- he hadn’t even spoken to you the entire time and made sure there was a considerable amount of distance between you and him. Then the argument happened.

  Wyll and Gale had brought up the plan to take out the Goblin leaders and find Halsin. They had gathered information about the leaders at the grove from Zevlor and had a plan in mind.

  Wyll suggested that everyone split up so that more ground could be covered faster and it would prevent anyone from burning out since they wouldn't be participating in three (possibly four) separate battles. 

 “So I was thinking that Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion would take on Minthara. Myself, Gale, and Lae’zel will take on Dror Ragzlin,” Wyll paused before looking at you, “and if you are up to it in the next three days- I think it would be best if you kill the Priestess and then jailbreak Halsin alone.”

 “That way, we can all remain somewhat under the radar while we are gathering information regarding the Absolute and their Cultists,” Gale chimed in, “and hopefully we will get substantial information before you charge into battle with Halsin.” 

  You pondered their vision and it made sense to you. Priestess Gut would be an easy kill and you can’t imagine that the Goblins guarding Halsin will be much of a challenge either. Except you were unsure of how much better you would feel within 3 days.

 “I don’t have a problem with it,” you said slowly, “does anyone ob-”

 You didn’t even get a chance to finish before Astarion began ripping into Wyll and Gale’s plan- specifically the part about you being alone. He had stood up and gotten into Wyll’s face as he rose to meet the other man's eyes 

 “What kind of moronic plot is that,” Astarion hissed, “they’ve been injured you ignorant fucks.”

 “Astarion,” you said with an edge to your tone.

  He whipped around with that same anger and grief he had looked at you with earlier.

 “You honestly believe you’ll be ready in three days to take on an Absolute Priestess and a group of Goblins by yourself?”

 “Yes, in fact, I do,” you stood up, your voice firm, “I’ve been hurt worse and been able to keep fighting after one day. What happened today-” 

 He cut you off with a growl, “I knew you were naive, Darling, but I didn’t realize how dense you are.” 

 You frowned and said in a whisper, “I don’t know what the word means.”

 “Simple-minded, brainless, dull-witted,” he retorted, “must I continue or are you educated enough to understand what I’m trying to say.” 

You were not made to be loved- only to kill, die, and serve.

You felt your brain disconnect from your body as you swallowed down the emotions. You watched as something in his eyes changed, but you had begun walking away towards your tent. You heard Karlach scold him, but you were already shaking it off- like you said, you’ve experienced worse before and have been able to keep going the next day.

  It didn't change the fact that his words had broken you- he knew that not being able to read or write was a sore spot for you. It was also something you didn’t want to publicize to your other companions. You had been staying up together at night- him reading to you and you listening- making the occasional comment or asking a question. Sometimes you just listen to him tell you about Cazador and Baldur’s Gate. If you fall asleep, he doesn’t move you- instead he sits next to you until you wake up and you walk back to camp together.

You had thought those moments were sacred and important to him like they were to you. You were ashamed to discover it had been an act the whole time and you had been naive enough to fall for it.

 Over the next three days, you avoided him like the plague and he avoided you too. Your nightmares have come back in full force now that your nightly ritual has ceased. Your injury has healed almost entirely despite the occasional soreness, but you are so tired you are barely present as you and your companions walk towards the Goblin Camp. 

  Karlach is your angel from the Hells today as she keeps your spirits high with her bright demeanor. 

 “Soldier, I am so excited for you to see my infernal engine in action,” she puffs out her chest with pride, “Dammon’s explanation doesn’t even begin to do it justice- even if he says a lot of pretty words with that nice mouth of his.”

 “Thank you for that Karlach,” you say with a snort, “been imagining what other talents his mouth has?”

  You begin to cackle as Karlach turns even more red before giving you a shove. 

 “Ughhh have mercy on me! He’s just so pretty and his voice!,” she whines with a dramatic, angsty sigh, “A girl can dream.” 

 “Or a girl can put on her big girl panties and ask to fuck him already.”

 “Oh, SHUT UP you vulgar-!” she puts you in a headlock and scratches the top of your head with her knuckles- effectively ruining your hair, but putting the biggest smile on your face. 

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

   Astarion watches you laugh and dick around with Karlach. He feels the corners of his lips tease into a small smile before he begins to frown again. He notices the dark circles under your eyes and the slight drag in your step, but he doesn’t even know where to begin if he was to approach you.

  He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s missed your presence and your nightly rendezvous together. Truth be told, a part of him is fearful that he’ll never be able to have those moments with you again. 

   His anger had been misdirected at you that night at the fire. He had been so angry with himself (and those dipshits, Wyll and Gale) that he had taken it out on you.  Instead of asking you to take care of yourself or refusing to let you go alone, he decided to publicly shame you.

 The first night you didn’t show up at your agreed-upon spot had twisted his heart and no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the feeling came back the second and the third night too.

  He hasn’t cared for someone like this in the last two centuries and he hates it. The last three days had been hell- he followed you every time you left camp to go hunting, check traps, etc. He would give you your privacy of course if you were going to bathe in the river, but even then he would anxiously look around camp until you came back. He tells himself it’s because he knows you are his best chance at being free of Cazador- that he is merely worried for your safety and cares because without you, he doesn’t stand a chance. 

Then there is the part of him that has begun to crave your company just as a companion and he enjoys the friendship between you. This part of him feels like just being your friend will never be enough. 

He refuses to admit his plan may be falling apart, despite it barely beginning. Thankfully, his feelings of self-loathing are keeping him preoccupied.

   He despises himself for being so blind to the fact that you and your nightmares were not from the tadpole, but from the abuse inflicted upon you by that wretched woman- Dahlia. Even thinking her name made him see red and filled him with bitter rage.

  He remembers the night he told you about Cazador burying him alive for a year. He remembers how you had said you understood how he felt and how he had gotten upset with you. You didn’t correct him- didn’t tell him that you have been in a similar situation. He doesn’t know which is worse- being buried in shadows, confined for a year or being left out in the sun to slowly rot and be eaten away. 

  He wishes you had corrected him, but maybe you felt like he couldn’t protect you due to his own history of abuse. Maybe he had made you feel like your pain didn’t matter to him.

  Then, when you began thrashing around in his arms, he had never felt more powerless as he watched you disappear inside your own head like he has done many times. He ground his teeth every time you flinched away from Nettie and Shadowheart. His mind insisted on reminding him of how you looked at him with so much fear and rage while he held you down; how it felt watching your memories- your pain- being ripped open all because you decided to protect him. Again. 

 Then his attempt to protect you failed because he ultimately pushed you away, but maybe that is for your own good too. However, you pushing him away has not changed his plan for today’s fight.

  He will not be going with Shadowheart and Karlach. He had initially planned on approaching them about this, but they came to him first- asking him to hang back with you, undetected, then meeting up with them later. Karlach and Shadowheart told him that they were just as upset with Gale and Wyll’s plan and were going to object before he stepped in. 

 He’s the only one who has a ring of invisibility and the stealth to keep you from suspecting you are being ‘babysat’ as he had overheard you call it when Karlach had suggested she come with you. 

  The goblins outside of the camp had been easy to bypass- Astarion had even convinced the goblin to kiss his shoe (which earned a hushed laugh from you that made him hopeful). Astarion watched as you caught and helped the Owlbear Cub escape, but on the opposite side of that coin, you managed to get Volo in more trouble. 

   You convince Wyll to hold off on the plan until you are able to free Volo- seeing as leaving a famous bard to die at a Goblin Camp would not bid well for the Night Masks and that would not be doing you any favors. Astarion was shocked when Wyll expressed understanding. 

  Astarion, Shadowheart, and Karlach go with you as Gale, Wyll, and Lae’zel search for Dror Ragzlin.

  The rescue mission quickly turns into another rescue mission when your small group stumbles across a man being tortured by Goblins. Astarion is quick to convince the goblins that they were being summoned elsewhere and, at your behest, he frees the battered man after he gives you more information about the Nightsong. 

   The Goblins had mentioned a man in the next room over so Astarion begins to walk in that direction and you follow him closely- your hand hovering over the hilt of your dagger as you scan the area cautiously.

  Astarion rounds the corner and sees a man that looks like he needs more iron in his diet. The all black garb was not helping and honestly? Neither is the haircut. 

  The man turns and scans the group before his eyes settle on you. Astarion feels his stomach turn as the man gives you a wickedly happy grin. Astarion moves closer to you and eyes the man cautiously, leering at him in the process.

 “I remember you,” the man says, “you’re Dahlia’s little brat, are you not? I remember the first time we met- your screams were positively delicious.” 

  Astarion hears your breath hitch. You are frozen in place, fingers trembling slightly as you fix your posture and take a deep breath. Astarion watches mournfully as you lose yourself in your head.

 “Hello Abdirak.” 

  Abdirak’s smile grows even wider at your empty greeting.

 “What a blessing it must be- for us to meet again, Rowan. Won’t you join me in worshiping My Lady?”

 Shadowheart pipes up, “I didn’t know you were into such things Rowan. I would love to see a demonstration.” 

 “Absolutely not,” Astarion hisses.

 “I’ll do it.” 

 He whips around to look at you as you walk up to the wall. He watches as you take each hit, but you are goading the man the entire time. The throws get more and more painful to watch and he hears Karlach take sharp breaths every time an ax sticks in your back. You walk back over and let Shadowheart heal you as she praises you for your vigor. Astarion uses every last bit of restraint he has to not punch Shadowheart in the jaw.  

  You look distant as you drink a healing potion from your pack before turning back to Abdirak as he spouts on about his wonderful “memories” of worshiping with you. Astarion's hands go to his dagger as he gears up to kill the man.

A flash of movement from your direction prevents him from moving forward.

 Astarion wasn’t prepared for you to cut the man’s throat so violently in one quick motion. Blood pours from Abdirak’s neck and out of his mouth as he chokes. His eyes are wide with fear as you push him on his back- your eyes bright, crimson red and consumed with indifference. Abdirak chokes and looks at you with pleading eyes, but you take a step back as the rats begin to claw and eat at him. The whole endeavor is disgusting and horrific- Astarion could not be more proud to know you. His strangled cries are cut short as he finally succumbs to his wounds.

 Without saying anything, you turn on your heels and stalk to the next room, Astarion quickly in tow. You free Volo before Astarion can even enter the room- the Goblin that had taken Volo away dead on the floor.  

You come out of the room and make eye contact with him. Your eyes are blank and your face is emotionless. You turn away from him and stalk off in the direction of the priestess. He gives you a decent head start before casting the spell and sneaking in behind you as Priestess Gut closes the door.

Let the bloodshed begin.

[amaranthsynthesis]

Sorry to bother you, but after reading your amazing fic, I must know: what is Gortash's relationship with Orin like given that he thinks she killed Ballard? Does Orin fuck with him about it? Does she dare??

DO NOT BE SORRY i live for inbox messages everyone is allowed to message me about these motherfuckers forever and ever thanks you

First of all, textually, when Gortash says "Orin I tolerated" this reads to me as just UTTERLY scathing. This man is doing the polite southerner 'oh you poor dear' at the stupidest bitch he's ever met in his goddamn life. He tolerates Orin because he has to, because he's not at a stage of the plan for Bane can dispense with the other prongs of the Dead Three yet, but the minute he can???? Gloves off. If Gortash killed Orin instead of getting tav/durge to do it for him she would have gotten the dressing down of a lifetime from this man.

Gortash and Orin, as far as my canon goes, do not get along prior to the tadpole incident, and are barely civil with one another following. Gortash and Ballard begin working together a handful of years before Orin dedicates herself to the temple of Bhaal as an adult (her manifesto is dated 1482, some three years after the House of Wonders heist and five+ since they became aware of each other), which means they're well established as allies by the time Orin starts stirring up the temple and shoring up her own support for an eventual bid for power. Because there's no way she took Ballard out like that without a plan; she moves the doppelgangers in too quickly, she maintains control well enough that she has been preparing for it, for all her shortsightedness. Which means Gortash, if not Ballard, would have seen and noticed her doing that. He would have known she was a threat, regardless of whether or not Ballard thought it was a significant threat, and if she were operating like that within Bane's temple and not Bhaal's he would have taken steps to mitigate the threat she posed or hamstring her in some way the minute he saw it.

Orin is the crux of the 'we have agreed to stay out of each other's business issue'. Gortash thought she needed to be eliminated; Ballard loves her and despises her and fears and hates their similarities, and in a lot of ways can only believe himself to be worthy of Bhaal's regard when placed in opposition to Orin--he forbade it. They argued on it regularly, and come to think on it, I'm fairly certain that this is the argument where they finally had to admit their relationship was not just business partners. So they fucked about it and then put the rule into place.

But Gortash never trusts her, and never likes her, and considers her a pest at best--following Ballard's assumed death, he holds himself as much to blame for it as Orin. He should have taken her out years ago. If he had, he'd still have the Bhaalspawn he wanted.

[everybodyshusband]

Tw: Emetophobia

Can you please consider writing a hurt/comfort fic about a little ghoul who gets sick and has tummy hurts?

I threwed up today and my tummy still hurts and my mom (I’m not a minor I just live with her) is being even meaner and scarier than usual even though I don’t feel good. I would like to haves some ghoul comfort please? I wanna feel safe for a whiles and feel taken cares of please. Thanks you, I loves yous /p!

of course i can, love. it sounds like you've had a really bad day, i hope you're feeling better now <3 i saw your other ask as well, and of course i can have them cry and be comforted (and i'm very sorry to hear about your dropped crackers. i hope you managed to cry a little bit without your mum seeing <3)

mountain/nonbinary regressed rain comfort coming right up :) cw for mentions of vomiting

“Rain? What’s going on in there, love?” Mountain knocks on the door sounding worried and Rain can’t help the sad, longing whine that escape their throat at the sound of his voice.

"I– I don' feel good... Hurts." As Rain speaks, the world seems to start spinning all over again, despite the fact that they’re now sitting on the cool bathroom floor. They slowly realise that maybe they’re the one doing the spinning. They wouldn't be surprised, their limbs feel a lot shakier than usual and their head feels all… fuzzy.

The earth ghoul opens the door slowly and his face immediately scrunches up in worry as he walks in to find Rain swaying where they sit, leaning against the sink with a plushie held limply to their chest with arms that feel too wobbly. He runs to the little ghoul’s side and crouches down beside them, brushing his fingers softly against their—concerningly warm—cheek. "It hurts? What's hurting, my darling?"

"I's here." They point to their stomach and almost immediately let out a hurt whine and hug the plushie closer to their stomach as another wave of nausea overwhelms them. "Tummy hurts an' feel sick." They manage to force the words out past the dizzying sensation as Mountain tilts his head in confusion at their original, vague answer.

"Oh, Rainy, poor love." Mountain pulls them into a loose hug, leaving plenty of room for the little ghoul to breathe—or to escape his hold, if that’s what they need—and Rain wraps their arms around Mountain as tightly as they can manage in return, sniffling and burying their head in the earth ghoul's shoulder. "Do we need to get your plushie out of the way in case anything comes up? We don’t want them getting dirty, do we, hmm?” His arms are already reaching out to take the plushie from their arms but Rain pulls back and shakes their head quickly.

"Already comed up…” They sniffle as they speak; partly from the memory of only a few minutes before that makes their stomach churn the more they think about it, and partly from fear that Mountain really will take their plushie away if they get sick again. “But I don' feel good. I thinked was gonna feel gooder, but I don't!" They don’t realise they’ve started crying until Mountain pulls their head away and swipes a tear off their face with gentle fingers, pressing a soft kiss to their wet cheeks afterwards for good measure. The realisation that they’re crying only makes them sob harder as they bat their hands weakly at Mountain’s chest, their breaths coming out short and disjointed from their panic. “I– I don’ wanna be sick, Mounty! I don’ wanna feel bader!”

“Hey, hey, no, love, it’s okay,” the earth ghoul soothes, stroking their head and running his fingers through their hair as gently and calmly as he can. “You’re okay,” he whispers against Rain’s hair. “You’re gonna be okay, tadpole.”

Rain pulls back and looks up at Mountain through their tear-blurred vision. “Promise?” Their voice wobbles with unshed tears.

They’re not sure if they can believe Mountain when he says they’re going to be okay, but they do their best to nod and wipe their tears away as the earth ghoul reassures them. “Yes. Yes, you’re going to feel better soon, my darling. I promise.”

“O– Okay. I buh-leeve you, Mounty.” They surge forward to hug the earth ghoul, burying their face in his chest once again. They smile as Mountain laughs, the vibrations in his chest rumbling against Rain’s cheek, helping them regulate their breathing as they begin to calm down.

They still feel sick, and a little bit like crying again, but they’re relatively content to be held in Mountain’s arms for as long as he’ll let them. If they’re really lucky, maybe he’ll even let Rain fall asleep in his lap and carry them back to bed, tucking them in with a kiss on their forehead and a whispered “Sleep well, little one. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[y-rhywbeth2]

Hello! Do vampire spawn explicitly need consent to drink their master’s blood or is it more that they physically/mentally aren’t able to because their master has control over them? I figured it was fairly vague and open to different interpretations. For example, Cazador can stop Astarion in his tracks to keep him from attacking him or even order the spawn to torture themselves, but at the end of the big fight, he’s too weak to even try to stop Astarion from stabbing him.

What’s stopping spawn from drinking their master’s blood when they’re too weak to deny them? If it’s taken without consent would they suck-sessfully (sorry 😅) turn into a true vampire or would they stay spawns?

Ah, vague descriptions that are open to interpretation - It's not truly D&D if these don't exist so that the table can derail the game for six hours arguing about it.

EDIT: Ohhh I just noticed I answered a different question to what you asked. Sorry. Half-asleep.

Honestly. No idea about the stabbing. I'll try to answer that again in the morning and my brain works again.

if Cazador has forbidden Astarion from attempting to biting him or otherwise attempting to drink his blood then I imagine Astarion can't do so. Cazador's orders stand, regardless of if his spawn has the upper hand at the moment. Of course, if Shadowheart temporarily disables Cazador's commands with her Turn Undead ability, then Astarion can ignore those commands.

EDIT 2: And obviously, the tadpole and Astarion being severely triggered and more interested in the vampire+ package of ascension was a large part of it.

---

But what I was babbling about regarding the need for blood, because I'm fond of it:

Disclaimer; I don't think this was intended at all, but it's there!

Prior to 3.5e vampire spawn wasn't even a separate category. An enslaved vampire had all the abilities of their master. (And - back before we had to deal with the lingering bullshit effects of 4e carrying over - spawn were still basically on the same level as their masters; the only thing ascended Astarion would've been able to do that his unascended self couldn't would've been the ability to turn into or summon/control bats (and wolves and rats), which is honestly a trivial difference) What caught my eye here is that 3.5e also had an interesting thing in that not all of the new creations of a vampire were spawn: more powerful individuals rose from their grave with the whole powerset already unlocked (what 5e terms a "true" vampire), but they were still under their killer's control.

The blood drinking is a new element added in 5e, which is how a spawn "transform" into true vampires now. Freeing a vampire from control is a separate thing that all the editions have answered, blood drinking has never been related to emancipation.

Stick to a pure 3.5e reading (and an interpretation of 5e's) and a vampire can free a spawn without them unlocking their full power.

1e - 3.5e, when we put it up against 5e's new "spawn/true" divide, have established that being a "true" vampire or becoming one is a separate factor to being controlled.

A vampire holds control over those it kills, whether they're full vampire or spawn. A vampire could turn its spawn into a full vampire without surrendering control. A spawn can be freed without them becoming a true vampire.

So if we follow this reading, if Astarion could drink Cazador's blood without Cazador granting his freedom, Astarion would become a full vampire but still be under his master's control. (Vampires being paranoid and territorial, even if he can still control them, Cazador probably wouldn't want to make his spawn stronger, so that wouldn't happen)

Anyway, now we're starting to go into the realms of there being no RAW to follow.

Can a spawn drink from their dead master's blood and still gain power? Does it have to be their own master's blood, or will any "true" vampire do the job? We have no answers for this, so you'll have to decide for yourself.

Welcome to the wonderful world of DM fiat: the loophole can be made, and taken out of all proportion. I imagine someone's going to be a killjoy about this, but I stand by what I said here and I don't care

[letters-from-dekarios]

[Roux is a human thief who worked for the Guild. He is cold and impersonal on the outside but very affectionate when he likes someone. He romanced Gale but didn't accept the proposal because he had his own stuff to figure out. The letter is written in a scratchy hand, with ink smears and crossed-out letters indicating that it was written rather hastily]

Dearest Gale,

I hope you're doing well. Professorship suits you, I think. I never got to go to school but in my entirely unbiased opinion you make an amazing teacher. I hope you can actually read this, since I know my writing isn't exactly up to snuff, but if you can't then I'm sure you'll spare my feelings somehow.

Baldur's Gate is as busy as ever, although being a hero certainly has its perks. It's weird- people buy me drinks and stuff, now. People know my name and they respect it. Important people want to talk to me, and want my help making decisions.

I don't know if I like it all the time.

Not to be bitter, but must of these nobles would've spit on me a year ago, and the only reason they'll listen to a street rat is because I saved their sorry arses. Oh well, at least I can help some people while I'm at it. Wyll says hello, by the way, but he already writes to you enough, so I'm sure you know that.

I do wonder about your tower, sometimes. Everything you told me made it seem apart from the world, in some pocket of peace that all the chaos couldn't touch. I'd welcome some peace, I think.

I spent my whole life being a sticky-fingered kid, stealing to get by, but you made me feel like more than that. You treated me like a person- a person that mattered.

I'm not good at letters. I know I've been dancing around it for a while, and it only took me so long to write because I was putting it off. I'm sorry about that. But... I still love you. That never went away. I miss having you tell me about anything and everything and nothing at all. I miss having someone hold my hand.

I won't say that I regret my decision- because that would be a lie and I'm trying not to lie so much these days. I needed a little while to figure out who I am what I want.

And... Well, what I want is you. I need you. I need peace. I need to stay in one place, for a while. I understand if our leaving left a sour taste in your mouth. If you want nothing to do with me I won't push you. But if you do want me... Well, I don't own much in the way of material possessions. It wouldn't be that hard to move to Waterdeep.

-Yours, Roux

Dearest Roux,

I am glad to hear from you! It has been awfully too long since we last spoke. At times, I find myself missing the presence you held when we’d camp together. Though I do prefer not having a tadpole to worry of.

Blackstaff is treating me rather well! Though that is no surprise to even the most knowledgeable man. I have taken a quick liking to my work and as most would say, “fit right in”. I walk the halls with the reminder of my history here, and it brings me comfort to remember that I was once much like the very students I teach today. This is about the most fulfilling thing I’ve ever experienced, second only to saving Faerûn.

Baldur’s Gate hasn’t known an ounce of calm peace in decades. But, regardless, they try and feign normalcy after an event as huge as we had conquered. Being a “hero” of sorts is never easy to get used to. I feel as though one can only continue chasing that feeling of “more” as though you must continue with your acts of service to consider yourself worthy of the praise being received.

Nobles spit on anyone they consider lower than they. They’ll even spit on other nobles if given the chance. The opinions they hold in the grand scheme of things should, in all reality, mean nothing. But I do understand the point you draw. It’s an odd experience to have people who’d kill you now kill for you. One does not simply “adjust” to that.

Your words bring a sadness to my heart. The backgrounds of us all were much to be contested with. Look at the likes of Astarion, or Karlach, for example. You, out of all of us, certainly mattered. Without you, I’m sure the rest of us would have either died or been sent back to the hells we came from. I’m sure I would’ve exploded in the midst of the Weave and my memory would’ve long faded without you. I couldn’t be more grateful for your existence and your kindness.

Roux… I have not the words I need to reply to you. What I can say, however, is this; I never stopped loving you. Through it all, I still find myself aching for your presence beside me. I am not mad at you for leaving, I would be a selfish bastard to be angry with you for that. And, quite frankly, I’ve tried to swear off being a selfish bastard after my last consequences.

I cannot blame you for needing time. For needing space. After saving all of Faerûn, it’s only reasonable to need time to understand where you’re at and who you’ve become. It is not within my rights to hold any kind of a grudge after all you’ve done for me. I would wait decades for you, Roux. I would curse the gods for immortality if it meant I’d have you at the end of it all. I would devote my dying breath to your highest altar just to have a glimpse of what could have been.

Perhaps that is idiotic of me. Perhaps you will be thinking I shouldn’t hold onto such a thing for that long. I cannot deny the inclinations of my heart, I never have been able to do that. I cannot tie my heart to yours and cut it off so easily. I am not capable of such an act.

Whatever you have to give, whatever you want to give, all of it will be more than enough. Your association at my side is more than I could ever need in this lifetime and the next. If I am to be reincarnated after death, I shall find you then too. You are all I have ever wanted and all I will ever desire. With you, my breath catches and my heart swells with joy. I have never met a person so comfortable to be around.

You, Roux, will always have a space within my home, my mind, and most especially my heart. Whatever you need, whatever your desire, I shall fulfill it to the best of my ability. However you are, however you come, I will take you in. You are most here in Waterdeep.

And, if it happens to sweeten the deal, Tara misses you, too. My mother has even offered to bake some sweets for your arrival if you do so choose to return here.

I would be more than happy to have you here, Roux. I am not a man who tends to lie on matters of such grave importance, you know that. Write me when you have started your journey to Waterdeep, if you are still interested in coming here, that way I have some time to prepare for your arrival.

Yours in every lifetime,

𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔

text reads: gale dekarios

[alpydk]

Eclipse (Part 1)

A 5 minute conversation turned into 2 chapters today. Oops. So here is part 1...

Gale x OC (F) - Some angst, hopefully comfort

As Gale travels the Sword Coast in search of a cure for the tadpole he starts to receive unexpected sending messages from an unknown source. As he begins to question these he finds his memories as not as accurate as he once believed them to be.

Ao3 Link

“I miss you. I love you. I’m sorry. Please come back to me.” 

Gale had spent some time pondering over the sending spell  that  he’d accidentally intercepted  whilst  channelling the weave.  He didn’t recognise the person’s voice or have any memory of someone back home in Waterdeep who might have been missing his attention, especially someone declaring love to him , and yet  somehow, he had ended up receiving the message, disrupting the delicate moment with a friend. During the  moment  he had believed it was simply the interference of the  tadpole,  or that Mystra was being somewhat coy; that was until the next day when similar words spoke out into his mind.

“I know you can’t reply. But know that I love you. Do you remember that day we sat and watched the clouds?”

He lay in his tent going over the details of the spell. He wanted to reply  and  yet  with  no knowledge of whom he was speaking to, he worried that it was an effect of his condition or possibly a trick  of some kind .  Looking  at the clouds.  He hadn’t taken the time to do that since he was a young boy, instead choosing to stay indoors amongst the tomes and scrolls he’d grown to love. There had been very few friends aside from Tara and the mephit, and he couldn’t note any moments of lying on the grass with any other person, let alone someone with some  sort of  infatuation with him. 

Days passed in silence as he trekked with his travelling companions. He’d tried to bring up the topic with Wyll  only  for him to question his sanity at hearing voices that weren’t those of other tadpole-occupied minds. Gale had tried channelling the weave alone from his tent in the hopes of triggering another message, only to have been unsuccessful; this little puzzle taking up far more of his thoughts than was necessary, and yet it was certainly better than the alternative of the orb or ceremorphosis which had plagued him earlier. 

Maybe  it was that  he was  simply  losing his mind from the tadpole or  from  the orb that caused his body to ache day  in,  and   day out.  Maybe too many magic items had finally taken their toll on his body, and this was the beginning of his mind breaking apart. He’d decided he would  just  monitor the issue. For now, at least, he was still in control of his senses , his   skills in combat  were improving after a year of barely casting even the simplest cantrip, and little by  little  he was even starting to make  friends;  A feat he was not too willing to be proud of.

***

The group walked  in silence  under the shade of the weeping willows that basked over the river.  He  could hear the croaking of a nearby frog and watched as it hopped onto a lily pad.  Stop licking the damn thing! The same voice he had heard a week previously and yet different, younger than  it was  before. He laughed at the fractured image of himself holding a  small  pink frog in his hand, his tongue at the ready, the voice adamantly telling him not to do it. Details of the markings on the frog’s back, the small white splotches and the way its yellow eyes bulged ever so slightly stood out so vividly to him  and  he could almost feel the weight of it in his hands, so much detail for something that he could not recollect. He tried but could not seem to envisage the face of the speaker  though , nothing but a distorted shadow standing in front of him, and yet the voice was still as clear as the frog in his hands. 

Astarion swung his head around in Gale’s direction. “Going to share the joke, darling?”

Gale bit his tongue and lowered his head, hiding the smirk. “Oh, it was nothing. Just a stray memory.” A memory he couldn’t trace back to. Who was the person yelling? When had this moment even happened?

***

“Lúthien got admitted to Blackstaff.  Figured  you would want to know. You’d be proud of how well she is doing. We love you. Miss you.”

If only the fight with the hag hadn’t lasted as long. As Gale had received the message, he’d also been hit by a spell  leaving  him winded. By the time he had gotten around to responding, too much time had passed, and the effects of the sending spell had fizzled out, leaving the words as only a new memory to him. 

He had no recollection of anyone with the name Lúthien who was close to him, but still, he thought over it considerably.  He sat by the campsite,  going over the identities of colleagues  and their possible children that he’d yet to find time to meet, but he only drew up blanks.  Maybe it was someone his mother had mentioned at some point as she had gossiped about local women, trying to set him up with a partner. She’d respected his choices during his studying days, young men and women wooed in various ways, but Morena always wanted him to have someone more permanent , she’d  certainly not been too pleased when that permanent choice had turned out to be Mystra herself. 

I  really  wish I could cash a Hold spell on you.  Again, that voice, only this time with a small laugh as his fingers ran through their hair  and  he tenderly kissed the soft skin of their  neck,   as he slowly removed  their shirt with his free hand.  He chased the memory, trying to see the face , trying to  solve the mystery that yet again presented itself in front of him.  The memory faded  in front of  him, and he was left disappointed and confused, only the cracking of the fire taunting him.

***

“Shadowheart, may I ask you a rather personal question?” Gale hadn’t wanted to do this until he had exhausted all other options. He’d tried to trace the spell back but was unable to due to the time constraints; he’d repeatedly tried to ask Mystra for assistance only to be ignored as expected, but it was with his memory now coming into question that he felt it was time to ask for help more locally. 

Shadowheart shuffled uncomfortably near her tent, preparing herself for what  was to  come. “That depends on how personal it is, Gale.”

He smirked. “It is nothing untoward , I  can assure you of that. It’s  in regard to  your memory dilemma.”

She relaxed her shoulders. “It’s not so much a dilemma as it is my life, but what would you like to know?”

“Do you ever find yourself remembering occurrences that  had once been removed ? The voice of a friend, a tender moment, perhaps?”  He let his voice trail off  and  the question lingered for a moment to give her time to think  on what an appropriate answer would be .

“No. No, I can’t say I do. My memories are completely lost to me  as  you already know. Why do you ask?”

Gale’s disappointment with her reply was buried  under his usual positive demeanour. So,  it was  completely  possible that he was   just  going mad, the orb destroying his senses with each passing day or the tadpole chewing at his frontal lobe. “Ah, just a fleeting  curiosity  is all. Pay it no mind.”

She shot him a sceptical look but let the issue die. “Very well. If that’s how it is.”

***

“Darling, you look a tad pale.” Astarion stroked the side of Gale’s face with the delicate pad of his fingertip. “Maybe tonight we should hold off on any activities.”  

Gale sighed.  He’d somehow fallen into this routine with Astarion of late-night soirees, sharing wine and not  really  speaking much before eventually ending up in the forest or  more  comfortably  one  of their tents together .  Tonight  had been no different.  It was   only  as he had removed his robe  that Astarion had chosen  to hold back for once and  begun  to ask questions.  “I’ve just had a considerable amount on my mind recently.”

“Haven’t we all, but isn’t that why we have  been cavorting  in the shadows?” Astarion ran his tongue down the faint markings on Gale’s neck. He’d never bite. Not after the incident last time  but   the way  he heard Gale’s heart rate increase let him know that Gale enjoyed this walk along the precipice  and  so he’d continue to threaten it. 

Gale leaned into the subtle touch,  allowing his eyes to close , his mind drifting to earlier nights of similar sensations .   Such  an undignified position to find oneself in.  Gale was kissing their abdomen, suckling at their flesh beneath him as they spoke. That same voice was haunting him even now.  He tried to bring himself back to Astarion’s touch, to the cold hands that moved further down his body  and  yet  he still felt disconnected  from it all .  

“Love, what is going on with you tonight?” Astarion’s sudden move away brought him back to reality.

Gale pulled at his robe, sitting up and covering his body. “I apologise. Maybe you’re right  and  tonight is not on the cards for us.”

“We could always do something else.” Astarion lay down on the bedroll  trying  to coerce Gale over to him,  not happy  with how the evening had been going. 

“ Hey, I  really  wish you were here right now… Things have just been tough without you. I love you. Miss you.”  

Gale heard the message in his head and instantly began to leave the tent  knowing  now was his only chance to reply. He could hear the confused yell of Astarion behind him  along  with  a few choice words in Elvish. None of  was   important  at this moment  though   as   he  climbed into his tent and focussed on the spell  that  had been  sent  to him. It was now or never if he wanted answers. He thought over what he wanted to say, the words  he  should speak  knowing  whatever answer  he  gave would inevitably invite this stranger further into his life, but he needed to know. “ Who is this? Why do you keep on contacting me? Am I meant to know you?”

***

Despite the day’s requirement for his attention, he had found his mind wandering constantly back to the messages , to the  memories.  He’d tried to apologise to Astarion but received nothing but a disinterested remark and a comment on how their nights together were over, something  that  surprisingly  Gale  wasn’t as bothered about as he’d initially believed he would be. Right now, it was the memories he’d been having that had been provoking more of a reaction within him. He didn’t know what would cause them to suddenly flash before his eyes, only that he longed to have more of them, to feel the connection with that other person more than the touch of anyone else around him. 

Dawn turned to dusk, and he sat alone  waiting  for the now familiar voice to speak  to him . Doubts had begun to creep in more and more as the hours  had passed by   and  he’d started to question again if maybe he had  just  been losing his mind. As he lay his head down, his eyes grew heavy  and  he let sleep take him, wishing he could hear them  once  again. 

The night was full of unrest, moments he couldn’t piece together merging with events of the recent days, laughter and wine shared in rooms he did not recognise, and   the touch of a soft hand upon his chest.  Rook to queen six. I do believe that means I’ve won.  Had he ever lost a game of lanceboard? Not that he could recall  and  yet these words made him smile, a subtle familiarity of the time stirring something within him. 

“ Gale? Is that  really  you? You’re alive?”

The sending spell interrupted his sleep, but he  was unable to  tell where his dreams ended  and  reality began, his body not allowing his mind much further than the partial acknowledgement of the voice speaking to him.

[brightaxe]

PLEASE share more thoughts on tavtash because I am OBSESSED with some of your little ideas… like how would the camp react?? especially if tav is good aligned?? how would this work for the ending?? SO MANY POSSIBILITIES FOR ANGST

i might've just woken up moments ago, but i am here. i am awake. i am going to talk about tavtash.

in my mind, most of the camp is willing to give tav the benefit of the doubt after everything they've done. karlach is more than willing to stand by with a watchful eye, though it hurts her to see tav get closer to the monster who handed her to zariel. in my opinion, it's hardest for wyll, considering both the fact that gortash was part of his father's tadpoling (is that what we're calling it?) and is also holding him prisoner, but tav has shown themselves to be of excellent character, right? so, he stands by them, thinking that it's a ploy, that tav is playing a lanceboard game all on their own. and for some tavs, maybe that's even true. maybe they're siding with gortash because they aren't sure if they can control all of the netherstones on their own, and gortash seems more stable than orin. their companions don't look at them and go, "this is someone who is susceptible to a man like gortash's manipulation," and so they wait. they listen. they do what they can, all while tav is getting closer and closer to him. i feel like both wyll and karlach would leave if they found out that the alliance with gortash was anything more than simple strategy. it's obvious that they were mistaken about them and that they are on different paths. halsin would be disgusted by what gortash was capable of and willing to do to sentient beings, but he's not... wholly invested in keeping baldur's gate afloat and can still help in the ways that he wants badly to help. shadowheart is hesitant, but in the end, she sees tav as her closest friend and wouldn't abandon them, not after they helped her reunite with her parents. with lae'zel, it fully depends upon the path you've taken for her. i can see it going either way. either she abandons you at the end or she sticks by the side of the person who opened her eyes to the truth of her brainwashing. astarion doesn't care. at that point, tav has helped him so much that he'd stand by their side regardless of where they were going. and gale? gale's just like, "alright," because guess who has no fucking say in who someone is in a romantic relationship with. it's gale. and THE ENDING. i'm the ceo of weenie hut jr, so i like to imagine both rosalind and ismay have gortash just in check enough to keep him from stepping in and getting fucking zapped, but god. the delicious angst when that does not happen for other tavs. when they realize that they lost their friends and sullied their morals for something that would never happen, for a love lost because of gortash's... sudden inexplicable lack of patience? GUTTING.

also i am SO SORRY that this got so fucking long, i just have thoughts. and feelings. and i love gortash, but i also deeply love tav.

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - chapter 10

The morning sun arises and it appears Gale isn’t by my side as I’m waking up. I am struggling to keep my eyes open as I try to get up, but it seems nearly impossible; I did sleep well, however. Exhaustion has taken a big toll on me, but at least I know why now. After about five minutes, I manage to stand up and notice everyone is up and ready, eating breakfast at the campfire. The scent of eggs, ham, and roasted fruit is hitting my senses rather abruptly, but I enjoy it nonetheless. I notice my nausea has faded, and I seem to be doing okay with my vision. I feel the most normal I’ve felt in days!

“Ah, there she is!” Wyll says. Him and Karlach are sitting on logs, his arm wrapped around her waist since he’s a bit shorter than her and can’t wrap it around her shoulder.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Karlach says with much more enthusiasm than I could have in the mornings. I smile, stretching my body as I prepare to sit back down to eat. I could just hug her precious self.

“Man… I’m sorry. Of course I’d be the one to wake up last. I was just so exhausted. I feel much better now of course,” I say with a raspy, tired voice.

“You need your rest baby,” Gale assures me, kissing the side of my head ever so sweetly. “Do not apologize.”

“Say, where’s Astarion and Shadowheart?”

“Oh, they took an early start back to Waterdeep. Since we have Wyll and Karlach, we will be alright. I told them to go ahead and wait for us there.”

“Wait, so Astarion was out in the sun yesterday and again this morning. What gives? I thought the fucker would burn to a crisp,” Karlach says. “The nerve of some people. I want him alive though, of course.”

“I was wondering that myself,” I responded, wondering what could be causing this sudden cure to his sunlight exposure. Surely not another tadpole and there’s no way for him to ascend…or is there? I’m starting to question our lives again and if there’s some sort of trickery upon us. Then again, maybe there’s just something he’s not telling us.

We don’t have much longer until we make it back home, and although it’s been a short trip, I’m thankful for all the memories I’m reliving with my closest friends. I sit here, wondering what life will be like in several months, how our lives will change forever. Part of me is nervous, while there’s a glimmer of excitement held within me.

Off we go, on the path again back to Waterdeep. One can only hope and pray that nothing happens between Raphael and those bloody cultists that I thought we obliviated from existence. I can’t help but feel a strange sensation within my stomach, completely unrelated to the pregnancy. It seems to be instinctual. We begin to cross a lovely old bridge that’s about to lead us into another region, and I can’t help but notice the lively and vibrant colors of the lands that were once filled with death and vile atrocities. You would never guess that is what this place used to be if you look at it.

“Oh man, I hope I get to babysit little baby Dekarios or I might just die,” Karlach says. “I’ve been close to death several times but this would take the cake. I’d wait until they’re a little older, though.”

“Why wait? You don’t want to have to handle the glories of regurgitation upon your flesh? The various odors that come along with infants?” Gale asks. “Come on, Karlach.”

“Nah, man. I’m good in that department. I can hold off on that.”

“So roughly when the child is five or six then?”

“Now we’re talking, sport.”

An all-too-familiar feeling becomes a reality and I know exactly what it means now.

“Something’s wrong,” I say, observing the area around us. “We’re being watched.” An unsettling growling sound can be heard nearby and it resembles a creature from the Hells we’ve fought before. Unfortunately, I have the sounds of those creatures memorized. Whatever it is, it seems to be invisible, but the sounds are close enough to be aware it’s close to us. By close, I mean a couple feet away, and that makes this entire situation so much worse. Being out of potions and only a cleric, lacking any spells to view any invisible beings.

“Shit. Do any of you have a ‘see invisibility’ potion or spell?” I ask. “A creature is lurking near us. Little shit is spying.” It’s unsettling that we’re being spied on, more than likely by someone sent by Raphael for whatever reason.

“Hold on – I have Faerie Fire.” The spell radiates from Wyll and suddenly the flying demonic creature can be spotted. The flash of the spell startles it, causing it to panic for a brief moment. Its large wings stretch behind its back while it raises its dagger-like claws. The creature stands rather tall, and now I notice it’s a Horror, a type of undead that we fought at the Last Light Inn before.

“Well, that’s certainly no imp,” Wyll comments. The Horror slowly creeps toward me, eyeballing me like I’m sort of a meal to be devoured. Gale, Wyll, and Karlach immediately rush in front of me to keep me protected.

“Stay away from her, I’d rather you get me instead,” Gale threatens with a stern voice behind his gritted teeth. His brow is furrowed, like he’s flustered and ready to attack this monster. My heart is racing rapidly like nothing I’ve ever felt before, and what I really want to do is fight this creature back with all the strength I have, but shortly realize I can’t. The Horror flies over Gale, trying to snatch me with the gigantic claws, but Wyll’s Eldritch Blast pushed the demon several meters away right before it could take grip of me. Karlach then dashes as quickly as she can toward this heinous creature, bashing in its guts with her battle ax. Blood squirts violently from the bowels of the Horror, splatting on Karlach’s crimson flesh as she finalizes the gruesome death of this demented beast.

“Whew! By the Gods… At least that’s taken care of,” Karlach says. “Where the fuck did that come from?!” Gale turns to face me, a look of distraught and worry expressed on his face.

“Are you alright?” he asks me. I nod, but I’m speechless, trying to process what just happened. You’d think I’d be used to this by now, but being pregnant has me on edge and full of fear all the time. I just don’t want anything happening to the baby, and Gale clearly doesn’t either. While he’s always been very attentive and comforting, he’s been extra protective and it’s brought me a sense of comfort.

“Yes. I wish I could help. I want to do something. I feel useless.”

“NO,” Karlach, Wyll, and Gale all say simultaneously before I could say anything else.

“We appreciate you wanting to help, but we can’t risk it. You aren’t in a state where you should fight right now,” Gale says, and I hate how right he is. I sigh, but still give a light smile. I won’t lie though, the urge to fight has been consuming me lately. I’m sure it will be much more intense once the baby is here.

“That…thing…was trying to take me rather than kill me. Why? What the hells?!” I shout, feeling frustration overwhelm my body. I take a deep breath, trying not to let it take over and stress me out more than I already am.

“Raphael won’t stop at anything to have you, all because of the damn orphic hammer and the crown,” Gale mentions. “Sometimes I almost wish we never got involved.”

“Note to self: don’t try to steal tools from someone’s house. Got it,” Karlach says, jumping around and shaking her hands, as if she’s warming up for an intense exercise. Brutal acts of violence seem to get her hyped up for another round I’ve noticed.

“You helped us steal that hammer.”

“You win this round, Gale. Fine. I know not to do it again. Love you guys, though.”

The adventure back to Waterdeep surely is a doozy so far, and I only imagine it could get even more intense from here. What other horrors will come across our path? What will Raphael do? We begin to pass the building that was once the House of Healing, which seems to be fully restored to an actual hospital, cleansed of the evil chaos that once lived there. How many survivors affected by Ketheric Thorm are within that building? The Waning Moon has turned into a lively bar and entertainment facility. “Live music, dancing, and Stand up Comedy” the sign says.

“So much has changed,” I say, observing the new structure of the area. The entire area is unrecognizable and it’s so pleasant to look at. Every crushed and destroyed building and architecture is fully restored to what it looked like before the shadows corrupted, as if nothing happened to them at all.

“Wait, are we even going the right way? I don’t remember seeing any of this before,” Karlach says. “You know, on our adventure back to Baldur’s Gate.”

“Yes, honey, we are. We just didn’t have time to take it all in before,” Wyll assures her, a half-smile on his face as he tries not to laugh. He just adores her so much and it shows. She shrugs and continues to prance her merry way with us along the path.

As we continue walking past the bar, I hear a familiar male voice saying my name in the distance. His voice is deep, with a hint of enthusiasm as he spots me.

“Emmy! Emmy!” The voice is getting closer, and to my very surprise, it’s Halsin. The handsome, kindhearted druid Elf that got rid of the Shadow Curse. A true friend of mine who always wanted peace for everyone, an advocate for the children and helpless, and a spirit of nature. Someone who I always aspired to be. We rescued him from the goblin camp, where he was going to slowly be tortured and killed by goblins and their drow leader Minthara. Ever since, we’ve been great friends. I turn around noticing him approaching us, smiling brightly as he sees us. It’s so nice to see another familiar face, I was worried something may have happened to him.

“Halsin? What are you doing here?”

“I was just checking in on the lands. I’ve been helping regrow the plants and trees in the area.” He inhales the fresh air, smiling as he exhales. “My, it’s so good to see you. Last time we spoke was at the reunion six months ago.”

“Yes, you are correct. Wow. I love how you’ve helped restore these lands. This place is so beautiful.”

“Thank you. I do what I can, when I can. How have you been?”

“You might want to grab some popcorn,” Karlach chimes in. That caused Halsin to raise an eyebrow, and he seems to be very invested in what I am about to say. This is still news I’m not used to saying out loud.

“Well… Long story very short, Raphael is after me, I live in Waterdeep with Gale, Shadowheart, and now Astarion… Oh, and Gale and I are having a baby.” His jaw drops, but with a smile as he does so. He laughs but in a very excited manner, not to be rude. He appears to be ecstatic.

“Other than the issue with a heinous devil, that’s great news! Oh wow. Parenthood is beautiful. I’ll have to visit you very soon, and more often for sure. I adopted Arabella, Yenna, and Thaniel. They’ve been a handful for sure.”

“We’re only having one. I can’t imagine having three. Props to you!” Gale tells him.

“Thank you. It’s been quite the journey. Trying to keep three children entertained can be hard, but luckily they all love being outside. I am glad I ran into you all. I’m going to finish getting this place restored, but once I’m finished I’ll come visit you all and we can catch up. I’ll be there for you if you need it. Congratulations and if you need any help with Raphael, just say the word.”

“I appreciate you, Halsin,” I say. We hug, more than grateful for his unconditional friendship and compassion, and a huge weight is off my chest knowing he will still be there for us when we need it.

“I never really knew Halsin well,” Wyll chimes in, “but he’s so kind. I’m glad to see him doing well and getting rid of the evil past of this place.”

I take a deep breath, thinking it really may end up being okay in the end after all.

[themildlyanxiousmage]

The Non-reigning Monarch of Indeterminate Gender and the Frog

A Tale of Love, Parenthood, and Romance

A SFW GN! reader/tav x Varsh Ko'kuu story

Chapter 1: Meet Cute at the Crèche

Notes: I try to keep the reader bland to be more universal, but they're a bit shy and anxious sometimes. It's a stressful time, so I hope that's not too specific. Also the reader is vegan. Sorry, I DO make the rules of this fic and you're vegan now. It's not really mentioned at all, but I'm leaving it open to that, so be warned. You can pretend you're on a diet if it bothers you. I won't actually use the word "vegan" ever though.

This is a bad fanfiction. Sorry about that. I also like commas and my punctuation is shit. Also sorry about that. I'm writing this in my phone's notepad without any built in spell check or grammar assistance. I'm also making the chapters short so it's not just a wall of text. I'm aware this chapter is kind of boring since it's nothing new yet, but I'm intimidated by the thought of editing big chapters.

This is not a serious fanfiction. It's really just an extension of my last Ko'kuu shitpost, but I hope it's enjoyable to all two of the other fans of the frog man.

To anyone who hasn't played the game: I take no credit for his dialogue. I only wrote the stuff outside of his quotes. This is meant to add more context and descriptions to a scene already in the game.

Chapter 1

You are no stranger to love. You know the rules of your heart, yet you find yourself feeling empty in your current path. A part of you had always been thinking of a full commitment. A life lived with another, and a family to hold dear. But who in the realms could fill the hole in your heart? Surely, there must be someone out there who could complete you, but you know you would not get this from just any other person.

Lae'zel had guided your group to Crèche Y'llek, searching desperately for purification. You had stopped to thoroughly explore every room, like you always did, despite the urgency of the tadpole lodged in your brain. When you entered the hatchery, you never expected to be taken aback by the grandeur of the towering rock walls and the dangerous beauty of the acidic pools below. You tried to take in every sight you could see, trying to commit every ripple of the different rock layers to your memory so you could sketch it later as you prepared to turn in for the night. It was part of a journalling exercise your therapist had recommended.

In the center of this marvel was a lone gith, the varsh of the hatchery, Varsh Ko'kuu, crouching tensely, silently as he gazed down at the hazardous pools below. You calmly approached him from behind, making your footsteps audible as to not startle the man lost in the dense fog of his own thoughts. His body stiffened upright as you approached, filling with a tension that made you question whether it was the right choice to attempt a conversation with the man.

"You can tell Kith'rak Therezzyn that my position has not changed!" He spat without turning towards you, his words filled with a mixture of agitation and disgust, though you could almost hear a bit of frantic pain buried beneath. "The egg requires more time. FURTHERMORE - oh," His eyes had shot to your face, words cut by his surprise. He had not expected to find an unanticipated visitor behind him in the hatchery, much less an istik. But, he realized the moment that he had been dreading had not yet arrived, and that gave him a small relief from his sense of foreboding. Still, you were an unknown variable, new to his watch, and he could not let his guard down.

"I was not expecting and istik. What brings you to my hatchery?" He inquired in the same sharp tone that all gith seemed to have when speaking to you, not with you, but his tone was a bit closer to Lae'zel's than to the other gith you had been encountering in Crèche Y'llek.

"I was interested in seeing the hatchery." You replied, trying to remain polite while still sounding clear and sure of yourself. You had found the gith of this crèche, or of anywhere really, did not respond positively to your usual soft-spoken, shy nature. "I did not mean to disturb you, though I'm surprised that it appears to be a bit empty, so I hope I did not distract you from your work too much." You added, realizing after the fact that you may have went on a bit too long for that sentence. Nervousness can turn your more concise thoughts into long winded strolls through unnecessary detail. You tried to hide the rising tension in your chest, hoping he would not berate you for your anxiety-induced wordiness.

"Almost all of the eggs in this clutch have hatched." He answered, turning back to the pools below, and thankfully ignoring you breif display of weakness. "We await only one more, which is... taking its time." He turned back to meet your gaze, trying to hide a sense of sadness that had briefly painted itself across his face. "MOST caretakers would not give the child its fair chance, but I shall! There could be greatness in that shell." He said firmly, as if trying to convince you, or your group, to not give up on the last remaining egg sitting below, but you knew that it was not you he was preparing to convince.

The narrator that had been guiding you in your head piped up finally, "You note the hope in his voice is tinged with weariness. It's the voice of a man that has fought the inevitable for a long time." Having your suspicions of the the gith's feelings confirmed, you decided to attempt to gently press the issue. Just a tad. Why you decided to, you were unsure.

"I don't mean to pry, but is there a reason why the last egg hasn't hatched yet? You seem a bit... concerned when you speak about the egg. Will something happen to it if it doesn't hatch soon?" Perhaps your words went a smidge too emotion focused for interacting with a githyanki. To your surprise, he didn't seem to react too negatively to your choice of words. Perhaps his concern for the egg had dulled his gith temper's edge. Perhaps his position in the hatchery had given him a softer side when dealing with those inexperienced in githyanki communication. Perhaps you were just a racist for assuming that any gith would jump at a suggestion of any emotion that could possibly be perceived as weak. In any case, like a bored cat sitting in front of a wall of peeling floral wallpaper, your inquiry had stripped away a layer of the shredded facade that had masked his bare feelings.

"Kith'rak Therezzyn will give orders to destroy it. She will say it's a weakling. I'll give it a while longer, and if it doesn't hatch, it will have proven her right." He said with a tense resignation, before his fiery resolve took hold over him once more. "But not all that arrive late are weak! I created this entire hatchery, despite being the last of my clutch to hatch. They almost drowned me in the hatching pool. If it wasn't for the varsh of my clutch -" He paused, emotion stopping him from completing his sentence. His head shifted around to avoid your gaze, his jaw tense, holding back any show of weakness from revealing itself in front of the istik standing before him. He swallowed back the unease that threatened to force it's way out, threatening to divulge itself to the strangers who could never understand the anguish he felt. Perhaps Lae'zel would, someday, but that's beside the point right now. "This one deserves the same chance." He declared with a burning certainty and determination that plunged a knife into your heart, twisting into it a sense of despair at the thought of the forlorn egg drowning in the burning acid pools below. You tried to breathe calmly in order to hold back the tears that you could feel rushing to your eyes. You took in a sharp breath to keep the dams of your tear ducts from spilling over. Now was REALLY not the time for your empathetic crying.

You took another breath before you cautiously responded to the impassioned speech he just gave you. "I-is there anything we could do to help you? I-I know we won't be able to do anything more than you could to convince the Kith'rak, but- " you paused, unsure of any suggestions. Unsure of anything you could do to help. It really felt like a lost cause. How could you, an ISTIK, do ANYTHING to change the fate of this one small egg?

"Maybe I could take it with me?" You mumbled out as you looked down to the ground in thought, before your head snapped up at the realization of what words you had just spilled out of your mouth. You looked at the varsh like a deer in the headlights. You expected him to fill with rage at the notion of an istik taking an egg away from the crèche, but to your bewilderment, he did not immediately reach for a weapon. Instead, he continued your conversation.

"You? What do you know about githyanki child-rearing?" He tilted his head in annoyed amusement, halfway laughing at the audacity of the istik in front of him. Then, his gaze gently turned inward in contemplation. "Still," he spoke pensively "the captain's due for an inspection any day now, and if she sees it here... Tell me," his eyes shot back to you, piercing you with a mixture of intense scrutiny and a tinge of hope. "What will you do with it if I entrust it to you?" By the hells, he was actually considering it.

"I-" you stammered out before straightening your posture and attempting to mimic his look of confidence. "I suppose I would raise the child as my own."

"That's what I feared."

You felt a tiny part of your heart die inside at those words. The fake confidence you had somehow fabricated left your body in one quiet breath.

"Still," he continued with an upbeat hopefulness you didn't expect to see, or at least something as close to an upbeat hopefulness you had ever seen in a githyanki so far. "I'm sure it's nature will pervade, even if raised among... lesser species." You felt your brain short circuit as his words hit your ears. Was he really agreeing to give you the egg?

With a level of certainty that you found mildly terrifying ringing in his words, he continued, "I can no longer ignore that Kith'rak Therezzyn's patience has its limits. Very well. Here, take these - they will aid in your approach to the egg." With that, he passed you his pair of spare boots used to walk through the hazardous acid below. He gestured to the path that led to the lower level, and you nodded in thanks. You made your way down and slipped on the oversized boots before stepping through the green liquid.

Cautiously, you slowly approached the egg. As you looked down at it, a feeling of anxiousness washed over you. You could hear the narrator remark, "A large green egg with an uneven shell sits in the dangerous pool. You can see the infant inside stirring gently at your closeness to his protective casing."

You reached down, and slowly, gently, apprehensively, you picked up the egg. A part of you couldn't believe what you were doing right now. Afraid of cracking the exterior, you carefully tucked the egg into your enchanted backpack for safekeeping.

As you made your way out of the hatchery, you approached the varsh once more. You gave him a quiet thank you, and you assured him you would do your best to raise the child to be a strong individual. How you would do that was beyond you, but you didn't voice your doubts to the man. He gave you an approving nod, and you could see what you thought was a look of gratitude in his eyes, but you weren't sure.

As your group left the hatchery, you could feel his eyes on your back, once again lost in the dense fog of his thoughts. While his weariness regarding the egg's future was assuaged, another uncertainty had taken it's place. One the varsh had held warily at bay for years. One that now was about to break free of it's fragile chains.

To be continued...

[amethysts-tavern]

Some notes: sorry it’s long! Features Tav x Astarion. Only identifiable feature for Tav is that they are a good-aligned elf.

I had this story in mind before the challenge, so it fits a couple prompts. I’ll go with:

“Holiday Spirit”

Gale emerges from his tent with a red leather-bound book in hand. “Story time! Everyone gather around the fire!” Gale had taken to reading a bedtime story to any who wanted to listen. The story usually involved some heroic tale of adventurers or magicians of acclaim. But the air had started turning chillier over the last few weeks, indicating that Yule was near. “Tonight, I’m going to tell you the story of Santa Claus,” Gale says, sitting on a makeshift bench near the fire and cracking open the binding of his book.

Most of your companions grab a seat near the dying flames. Karlach brings her teddy Clive to listen from her lap. Wyll brings over the wine and goblets and starts to pour. Even Shadowheart, who wasn’t big on stories, finds herself taking a proffered goblet and a seat.

“Come snuggle, hon. I wanna hear this one,” you take Astarion by the hand and drag him over to the fire. Normally you’d use this time to sneak away from prying eyes for a more intimate encounter.

“If I must,” he replies with a sigh. He finds a seat and pulls you onto his lap. You did promise him a snuggle if he’d listen.

Gale tells his story of the jolly elf in red. “Hold up, Santa is an elf?! Like Astarion?!” Arabella exclaimed, incredulously after Gale finishes the tale.

“Well, he’s an elf, yes. But he’s not a vampire,” Gale explained. “He’s a happy, giving elf… like Tav.” You smile at being compared to Santa. You do try to be a compassionate person.

“And he brings presents?!?” Karlach exclaims, about to burst with excitement.

“If you’re good, Santa may bring you gifts on Christmas Eve,” Gale replies.

“Ha! That’s a load of hooey. Don’t bother, Karlach. There’s no such thing as Santa,” Astarion cackles.

Arabella’s lips turn down into a pout and Karlach covers Clive’s ears. “That’s not true, is it Tav? Santa is real, right?” Karlach asks, pleadingly.

You scowl at your vampire boyfriend as you stand up from his lap. “Why do you always have to do that, Astarion? Why can’t you just let them have some joy? What harm does it do to you?”

You move to comfort the tieflings and try to smooth things over. “He didn’t mean it. Of course there’s a Santa Claus… but not like in the story. Santa lives inside of you.”

“Like the tadpoles?” Karlach asks, concerned.

“No… it’s… it’s hard to explain,” you look to Gale for advice, but he shrugs. “I think it’s a discussion for another day. It’s time for everyone to turn in.”

Karlach walks off dejectedly with Arabella. The others busy themselves with clean up before turning in themselves.

“Tav, I’m sorry,” Astarion says quietly from behind you. You sigh in response and turn to face him.

“Sometimes you say things without thinking how they could hurt someone,” you reply. You’ve been together long enough that Astarion knows he’s disappointed you. His ears and shoulders droop in shame.

“I’ll make it up to them,” Astarion says, hoping this proclamation will make you less mad at him.

“Ok, Astarion,” you say walking off toward your own tent. Astarion knows this means that you’re really upset with him. He had better find a way to make things right with the tieflings if he wants your forgiveness.

“Shit.” Astarion throws his hands up in defeat. He is about to make his way to his own tent when he notices that Gale is still up, reading by the firelight. Then he got an idea.

“Gale, can you read that story to me again?” Astarion asks the wizard. “I need your help with something, but I need it to be perfect.”

***

The next few days come and go without incident. You and Astarion make up after much pleading on his part. The tieflings are still disappointed, but after all they’d been through, they were used to it. But, just to be safe, they were especially nice these days, putting in extra time at dinner prep and clean up time and asking the others if they need any help. Camp life was pleasant these days.

Before you know it, it is Christmas Eve. After a sumptuous feast and exchanging pleasantries with each other, a lull falls over camp. You see Arabella’s face scrunch up like she’s concentrating very hard on something.

“Does anyone else hear sleigh bells?” the small tiefling child asks. You listen hard and can, in fact, hear very faint sleigh bells in the distance. What a coincidence to hear that on Christmas Eve. You look around for the source when you notice the large white flakes falling from the sky. Snow? Here? Astarion should see this! Where did he get off to? You look around for your beau, but he’s nowhere to be found.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” You hear someone call out from the edge of the forest. Karlach’s eyes grow wide at the sound.

“SANTA!! Arabella! It’s Santa!!” the fiery tiefling takes off running to the forest to find the source of the merriment, but quickly retreats back to the campfire after a quick look around. “I just caught a glimpse. Definitely a chubby elf!” she says upon her return. As she sits, big smile on her face, her eyes fall to two gifts that were not there when she ran off. “What’s that?” she asks, pointing at the wrapped packages.

“Hmm. This one is addressed to you. And this one is for Arabella,” Gale says, checking the tags on the packages.

The tieflings rip into their packages and pull out their prizes. Arabella places the new ribbon in her hair proudly. Karlach brandishes her new gloves for all to admire.

“You must have been very good to get gifts from Santa!” you say to the tieflings, shooting a wink at Gale.

“It wasn’t me,” Gale mouths, nodding at something behind you. You turn to see Astarion sauntering over. He puts his arm around you and pulls you toward him.

“You did this?” you ask the pale elf now in your embrace.

“Well, I had some help: a little minor illusion from our wizard friend for the bells and snow and expertise with a disguise kit from yours truly,” Astarion says, squeezing you tight. “And I apologize in advance. I had to stuff the belly with something, and you had such fluffy pillows. I suppose you can just share mine from now on,” Astarion says with a sly look.

You chuckle at Astarion, cocking an eyebrow. “Merry Christmas, Astarion.”

“Merry Christmas, Tav,” he says, pulling you in for a kiss.

[arainaizevran]

Would love to hear about upper city invitation or a slice of paradise 👀

WIP folder game

upper city invitation (working title lol): ajax gets an invite from gortash to attend his coronation celebration ball or whatever. the day has been awful for everyone, particularly for ajax and wyll. the double whammy of finding out ajax used to be friends with gortash, and that gortash kidnapped his boyfriend's father is. well. a lot.

here's a snippet:

Ajax doesn’t want to go. He’s already seen the bastard crowned archduke along with Wyll’s tadpoled father, and he doesn’t want both of them to hurt any more than they already have.

But Shadowheart, ever the pragmatic, had told him otherwise. “There could be valuable information there. And with what that cambion just said about Wyll’s father? We just saw him with Gortash today. He must be involved in this somehow.”

Ajax is loathe to admit it, but she’s right. He goes into the camp chest to find suitable clothes when Wyll finds him.

“What are you doing up so late, my love?”

Ajax quickly shuts the chest. “Just… organizing our inventory.”

“Hmm,” Wyll says, a hint of a chuckle in his lips. He’s not buying it, but he’s also not calling him out. “Need a hand, then?”

Ajax hesitates, but Wyll doesn’t wait for an answer. He sits beside him, opening the chest and taking a shirt, folding it neat and flat. Quietly, Ajax follows suit, tidying up the chest together with him.

“Listen,” Ajax starts. He finds a fancy coat jacket they must’ve taken from an unwilling corpse. “Gortash… I really should have known. I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”

“But your father—”

“It’s my decision that doomed him, not yours.”

“Wyll, no, it’s not,” Ajax replies. He turns to him, laying a firm hand on his shoulder. “Mizora did this. She trapped you, like she did so many years ago. And Gortash… he’s part of this too. I just know it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You saw what happened earlier. He knows me. It didn’t jog any memories but I can feel it—” Ajax takes Wyll’s hand and reaches for his abdomen, “—here, in my gut.”

Wyll’s thumb caresses his exposed skin. He sighs. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re rummaging through the camp chest. What are you looking for?”

Ajax gives a breathy laugh. He knows him too well at this point. He holds up the fancy coat jacket he found. “Gortash sent me an invitation to a ball in the upper city. No doubt to try and win me over still.”

“And you’re going?”

“I… I have to.”

[everybodyshusband]

lazy morning

mushy may ; day twelve !! (approx. 1k words)

(1k words of self-indulgent fluff, featuring age-regressed little!rain and caregiver!swiss)

read under the cut or on ao3 :)

Rain emerges from his bedroom in the early morning, rubbing his eyes clumsily with hands that feel too big as he tries to shield himself against the light streaming in from the common room windows.

Swiss raises his head from the book he’s reading from and grins at Rain’s blurry outline—these new glasses work wonders for reading, not for much else. “Hey, baby. You’re up early.” He has his suspicions as to the direction this conversation will be taken, and they’re proven the moment Rain opens his mouth.

“Early,” Rain parrots as a complaint, scrunching his eyebrows in annoyance. He stumbles over to where Swiss is sitting—making sure his plushie is still clutched securely in his hands—and plonks himself along the couch, resting his head on the multi ghoul’s thigh.

Swiss’ hand moves to Rain’s head automatically, stroking his hair and scratching at his scalp. “You woke up too early, huh, Rainy?”

Rain nods, pouting. “Wanna go back to sleep,” he frowns, curling in on himself and hugging his stuffed toy close to his chest.

Swiss leans over Rain, placing his book down on the back of the couch. “You wanna try sleeping like this, little one? We can get you a blanket and everything, if you want.” Swiss’ fingers are still carding through Rain’s hair, and the gentle, circular rhythm is making the water ghoul sleepy; it’s nice.

“Just you. please?” Rain requests, looking up at Swiss from his position at the multi ghoul’s thigh with such baby puppy dog eyes that Swiss  is certain he would be sent back to the ninth circle if he denied Rain his request. “I have my, uhm– my…” He trails off, unsure of the word; he only ever has a few when he’s like this, and more often than not, his pronunciation is a little off as well.

“Your what, baby?” Swiss prompts gently. He knows Rain’s lost the word for now, but if he can get another descriptor out of the water ghoul he might be able to help Rain find it again.

Rain holds up his plushie—it’s a stegosaurus Cumulus gifted him a couple of months ago; when Rain is regressed, Swiss would be hard pressed to find him without the air ghoulette’s gift somewhere on his person or in a bag nearby. “This!”

“Ooh, that's a tricky word, baby. Well done for trying, little one!” Swiss leans down to press a quick kiss to Rain’s forehead. “There’s a few words we could use, ‘kay?” Swiss holds Rain’s hands in his own, dragging the water ghoul’s hands over the plush plates along the dinosaur’s spine. “We could call it a plushie or a stuffie, because it's a plush, stuffed toy. See?” Swiss guides Rain’s hands and encourages him to squeeze the dinosaur, feeling the softness of the toy. “Oh, plush means soft and squishy, Rainy,” Swiss explains patiently at Rain’s confused look. “Do those words make more sense to your little brain?”

Rain nods along happily. At any other time, Swiss’ words would seem infuriatingly patronising, but right now, it’s exactly what Rain wants—what he needs—and he loves it. Swiss is his safe place when he’s like this; wherever the multi ghoul is can be deemed safe, if only thanks to his comforting aura and general ability to make Rain feel at home.

“What’s…” Rain wonders. “What’s th’other word?”

“The other word? Well, it’s also in the shape of a dinosaur.” Swiss grins as he sees Rain’s eyes light up. “You know all about those, little tadpole, I know you do. But do you know what kind of dinosaur this is?”

Rain shakes his head sadly, and swipes at the tears brimming in his eyes. “I– I don’t know a’ th’moment. ‘M sorry, Swissy…”

“Hey, hey, no apologies, baby,” Swiss consoles. “We’re here to have fun, yeah? You don’t have to remember everything right now, okay? It’s okay, Rainy.”

There’s a shaky few breaths, followed by a big sniffle, and when Swiss looks down again, Rain is wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “It– it’s… ‘s okay,” Rain repeats, over and over again until his voice starts to sound stronger, more sure of his little self, Swiss thinks.

The multi ghoul keeps stroking his fingers through Rain’s hair and whispering soft and comforting words to him until he calms down enough for Swiss to begin talking again. “You ready now, little one? Yeah? Okay, well, we could also call it a stegosaurus. Mhmm, it is a funny word, isn’t it!”

Rain repeats the dinosaur’s name, trying to wrap his tongue around the words. He mispronounces it horribly, and Swiss can’t help but feel overjoyed at how adorable Rain can get when he’s little. But as much as he loves chatting with Rain…

“How ‘bout we get you off to sleep, baby? You still look a little tired…”

“Can we… lazy morning?” Rain suggests, his eyes big and hopeful. “I wanna couch w’you, Swissy…”

Swiss chuckles, unable to contain the happiness he’s experiencing at being able to witness Rain like this—and in a relatively good mood, too. “You wanna keep sitting on the couch with me for a bit? Yeah, Rainy, we can do that.”

Rain hums happily and nuzzles his face further against Swiss’ thigh, wrapping his arms around the multi ghoul’s waist to the best of his ability.

Swiss just sighs good-naturedly and wraps his own arms around Rain. “Go on, baby. You go to sleep, I might– Uuah.” He interrupted his own sentence with a wide yawn. “I might fall asleep with you, actually. We can start our own little mini cuddle pile, and cuddle the day away. How’s that sound, hmm?”

“Mmm, sounds… sounds, uhm…”

“Take your time, Rainy,” Swiss assured him. “We’ve got all the time in the world, baby.”

“‘t sounds… perfect!” The water ghoul giggled and clapped his hands together, excited that he’d managed to remember a larger word.

Swiss gasps and shakes Rain gently in excitement. “Rainy! That was such a good word, well done, tadpole!” Now, c’mon. Off to sleep for a bit, yeah? We’ll have a bit of a lazy morning for a while.”