#this is an interest gauge but i think i will make it regardless | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sixthwater · 2 years

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Hi! This was a requested topic from a follower quite a bit ago, but due to some life restrictions I was unable to get to it until now. You may ask 'why are people attracted to me', but I asked what your attractive qualities are in general

(Left → Right / Pile 1 → Pile 4)

Decks Used: Tarot of the Divine, Archetype Oracle, Traditional Manga Tarot, Arcana of Astrology Oracle, believe in your own magic Oracle

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Pile One

Personality: Ace of Swords Rx, II of Wands Rx, Seeker (Shadow)

There’s a bit of fogginess present which makes me think of how people with Piscean energy tend to space out or get caught in their thoughts. It’s not a confused energy, but it’s how your brain is working so much, having an active imagination or very present thought process. The Two of Wands can stand for messy plans but it’s really not that I’m getting chaos or being unprepared, it’s more like an active energy, very excited and bouncy but it’s not loud like a fire sign. Also now that I’m realizing, I already forgot to get your archetype so how fitting. Aaannndd you would not believe it: Seeker in the shadow trait which says, “Inability to commit to a path once found”. It reminds me of Mutable energy overall, if I want to be specific then Gemini, but it’s the idea that there are a lot of neat and interesting things out there and you just don’t want to miss it. Due to this, you have a lot of facets that have been unlocked and you’re a very interesting person to talk to. You can be approached by a lot of people because you take interest in a lot of things. Now promising that you’ll be present, or you won’t be distracted mid conversation? That’s hard to say, but you can hold people’s attention, or have very intriguing ones because they don’t just die out. I like the art on the the Two of Wands because that’s what it feels like quite literally in your mind sometimes. You want to go in both directions at once, like you wish you could split up and then reconvene and share the stories between your ‘two experiences’ afterwards. Really strong Gemini Moon vibes but really it’s still just Mutable overall. Honestly some Aquarian / Air energy overall because there’s a feeling of being a ditz on the surface but you are very complex and intelligence underneath, there’s just some difficulty in taking all your thoughts and making a coherent or cohesive sentence with all of it. Regardless, everything in the world seems fun to you, and sometimes this can lead to a bit of decision paralysis because everything seems so tantalizing, but this tends to draw people in.

Physically: King of Wands Rx, IX of Wands Rx, Temperance Rx, Chiron, Eris

Interesting and Fun! You know how they always talk about how you can spot an Aquarius placement from a mile away? That’s you. There’s a chameleon? Lizard? There’s a reptile sitting on the King’s shoulders, the guy in the Nine of Wands is decked out in feathers, and Temperance is reversed. Whatever you choose to go out in, you wear it loud and proud. There’s a three different ways this is coming out. For the first group; there’s specific jewelery you like to wear or you like tattoos or piercings/jewelry that isn’t subtle. So, according to societal standards: septum piercings, full sleeve or back tattoos, gauge earrings — stuff like that. On the flip side it can also be a cherished necklace or accessory that you’re always seen with regardless of wardrobe, or you happen to dye your hair a lot (or your chosen colors are very striking). For the second group, you make sure you stand out, but in a more subtle way. It’s like everything that’s put together for the outfit is chosen very carefully, but in a muted sense. So you still fit in with the colors of the season, you’re not being brazen, but you make sure you can catch people’s eyes with the way you fit into the outfit or that when the outfit all comes together, it’s a statement or it’s definitely A Look for the gram (the type to dress up decently for a late night snack run). For the third and last group, it could simply just be that you’re a minority in your community. So someone black growing up in a community that’s mainly white, which will make you stand out. From the amount of intense rock songs that started to play as I got to this part, I’m thinking the majority of you will resonate with the first section, or eventually want to shift your style to that. Regardless, you are someone who wants to be known for you, it’s not really about being different, but you don’t like watering yourself down to being accepted by others. Which I think is so interesting because with these messages we have two Conflicting ass asteroids: Chiron and Eris. I believe you have to have some dreamy or bright eyes, or a bright smile. There’s also the feeling that when people see you presenting yourself as authentically as you please, it gives them some comfort that it’s not as embarrassing or as bad as it might be? Like they’ll stick out like a sore thumb and people will mock them for it like they’re cringe or something, but that’s not the case. So you help soothe other people’s worries even if they don’t actively tell you. I’m really getting the eye or smile feeling though. Like when you interact with others it’s really contrasting to the intense nature of your looks. Eris backs it up though that like, you do have an intensity about you at the same time. It’s not intimidating but it’s more like. You are who you are and no one can take that from you. Which is really neat. The girl in Temperance and Chiron really back up the energy felt within the first section though that there’s this somewhat soft and explorative energy to be sought within you. There’s also a chance of having a generational planet within your first house as strangers might sense some familiarity within you even though there...won’t actually be any.

What Do Strangers Find Attractive About You: Lavender — Surround Yourself With Love

Exactly!!! I think it’s quite obvious that you don’t associate with people that make you feel less than. You’re not one to quickly judge others and you give everyone a bit of a chance, but if people don’t extend the same openness and warmth to you then it’s over. Like I said, you’re quite sure of yourself and you don’t waste your time on people who want you to abide by their rules if it means abandoning parts of yourself. Iconic as the kids say.

Also! So many reversed cards, it’s like an active ‘I’m standing out I’m gonna be me’ statement it’s really cute!

Songs: Born For This – The Score, Big Yellow Taxi – Counting Crows, Beautiful Bride – Flyleaf, F**K You – Sleeping With Sirens

Pile Two

Personality: VI of Wands Rx, VIII of Pentacles, Child: Magical

A quiet hard worker. Someone who is okay with blending into the background and let’s their work speak for itself. It’s crazy how in sync all of these cards are because the princess in the Eight of Pentacles is sworn to silence until she is able to finish making the sweaters required or the curse will never be lifted (despite the toll it’s taking), the warrior in the Six of Wands is being rewarded for stepping from under her father’s light and making a name for her own (but it’s reversed), and the magical card talks about being enduring and always seeing the light within the most mundane and even in the worst of times. Being able to see the good end despite what’s happening. You are someone who is very co-operative with others, and I’m getting a strong sense of loyalty. It’s not undying, nor is it foolish, but it’s like...you don’t feel the need to always be the star of the show. Strong Virgo energy, that’s all that’s coming through. Also a very quiet pile as well. It’s a feeling of what you have you always share with others. There is a lack of ego, but it’s not concerning? You are a hard-worker and you always make sure whatever you’re putting your effort towards (relationships, projects, hobbits, etc) turns out polished and full of love, but you don’t need to be praised for it because it’s expected in your eyes. Considering that this is what’s attractive, you are really appreciated by those that know you. They realize that you’re a catch and no one puts in the work like you do. Especially unprompted. I keep glancing back at the princess crying in the Eight of Coins and the only thing is that you raise other people up while you— ah yes the song that’s playing. You support and raise others up but you shy or run away from the same thing, or you shrug it off as if you don’t need it. So people tend to see you as someone very strong and indomitable but you are still human so please be vulnerable so they can send that love right back when you need it. I also kept fighting the urge to go back and Actively work on Pile One, since I usually just go and make final changes once I’m done the entire thing, so please don’t be afraid to take up space or soak up the limelight guys.

Physically: The Devil, X of Swords Rx, Aquarius, Neptune

A lot of things are coming in so some might resonate or it might not. A good lot of you might have chosen this pile because the cards are very excited to talk, but I also think that you guys just don’t get the chance (choose) to vent a lot. So immediately I get the feeling that you might have a visible scar or birthmark. Doesn’t have to be big but it’s a ‘cute little quirk’ or defining feature. There’s something with the back that people or someone really likes regardless of the other messages I’m trying to talk about with this card because I keep coming back to physical traits. Those little angel wing tattoos? That people get on their backs are coming up as well. Anyway, you’re not how you appear is the second main message. Some might look at you like you’re a fallen angel (I always think of a back-stabbed angel with this card for some reason) who could solve all of their problems. Like you’re really innocent, but of course as we know your personality isn’t necessarily like that. It’s a calm muted energy but you’re not just an innocent dating sim NPC. You can come off as tantalizing to some people, or like it’s addicting to be around you (as in you have a fun energy), but I mainly get the feeling that you mirror people. In a way that you match whatever vibe is being thrown at you. Again, you really fall into the background by choice most times, so matching the energy levels would make sense because it’s along the process of making sure others are comfortable. There’s a feeling of containment, especially with expression, but sometimes your authenticity can come through. It could be that you maybe decorate your bag or desk with little objects of your liking so people can pick up on your personality, but I feel like it’s more tiny slip-ups.

What Do Strangers Find Attractive About You: Grey – Endings are Inevitable

You’re a realistic person. You’re the friend who helps ground others but not in a pessimistic sense. It’s more like; yes it’s going to rain, and it’s going to be cloudy for a couple of days, but then the sun comes out and then we get to go for a walk again. People like that you can balance coming off as practical while still being a sweetie and idealistic. This is such strong Sixth house energy it’s kind of crazy. There is a high chance that many people come to you for advice, or see you as somewhat wise—someone who has a lot of resources saved or has a lot of life experience. I will say that maybe this energy is currently happening because young forever started playing as I got this song so I hope you guys treat yourself kindly throughout this process.

Songs: Nesshoku Starmine – Roselia, This Day – Jingle Jangle (The Musical), Calm Me Down – American Authors, Life In Color – OneRepublic, Young Forever – Nicki Minaj

Pile Three

Personality: The Lovers Rx, V of Swords Rx, Midas / Miser

Oh no a goofy pile. Before I explain that, I immediately got independence and knowing when to walk away from disputes or a difficult situation. You use your wit, charm, and knowledge to avoid getting yourself into situations like those of the Five of Swords. The downside of this is that you don’t seem the most open or friendly? To be fair, when people think of ‘friendly’ they think of customer service friendly and chatty. You are quite smooth and flexible—you know how to work a crowd or your ‘audience’ when you need to and then you usually go into hiding right afterward. It’s funny because to strangers it’s like ‘ooo this person is strong and independent they don’t need anyone’ and you know how that draws people in, because they want to be the one person that you bend to. However from your end you’re just quite literally kind of introverted. You don’t really need to always be around people, if you’re around people then cool, if you aren’t then cool. You don’t feel strongly one way or the other, it kind of depends on the day lmao. So you probably have your Sun opposing your ASC, or strong energy in your Tenth that’s blocking out your personal planets or more muted placements that displays how you truly come across. People take delight in speaking to you or hearing your ideas because you’re ingenius and also just really funny? Quite literally if you look at the Midas / Miser card that’s how you come off. In public or when you’re flexing your abilities, you come off as the blonde (?) one. When you’re able to retreat you immediately start acting like the guy at the bottom haha. Also. Slime by Danny Gonzalez immediately started playing when I pulled your cards and if you’re not familiar, it’s a song poking fun at how adult youtubers who make very specific content for children have to navigate their lives offline which...was way too on the nose for this.

Physically: Page of Wands, King of Wands, Lunar Eclipse, First House

Oh you’re lying!!!! I was thinking about this when looking at The Lovers card but I always think of interracial couples because it’s represented by Beauty and the Beast, so with it reversed I was thinking “oh they’re probably conventionally attractive but that doesn’t really matter right now” but apparently it did!!! I guess so because I brought up the ASC up there but whatever!!! With the First House yeah I feel like either a Venusian or Scorpio Rising? I also keep thinking of Sagittarius thanks to these Wands but I’m putting that on pause and saying Jupiter/Venus in first. Venusians are usually the rising signs that people see as conventionally attractive, not because they are, but because of how they carry themselves and interact with others, there’s less of a push back on them. Scorpio Risings have that previous impression of “oh you’re not talking therefore you are alluring”, and people just enjoy the jovial energy of a Sagittarius rising. There’s just something about the way you present yourself that draws people in. I’m not really getting the way you dress with this pile, it’s more about the way you carry yourself. The Lunar Eclipse is definitely giving me this ASC-Opposition feeling. It doesn’t have to be the sun, but a very important planet (chart ruler or the moon) is being masked by your rising. It’s giving me strong Seventh house vibes though because that always deals with the “omg I didn’t know you were like that” “I literally said this five days ago” frustrated feeling. I think people enjoy getting to know you though because it’s refreshing? You seem very routine-based to them so when they get to see you act outside of that it’s very exciting? Now these wands...lost my mind. One part of it is that I think people enjoy seeing you grow. You’re never halting your progress and you always like to expand your knowledge or ‘business’ (idk why I keep using business as an example///). However for others, you just have a very light-hearted and free-spirited energy and a very good song came on for this! You’re never too bothered about appearances yeah. Both court cards look very extravagant but when you look closer it’s just kind of...it’s just some fabric. You might also have an ‘unsual’ pet. It’s not exotic or anything but it’s not someone’s first choice so think like ferret, birds, snakes, etc. Due to that, it’s not a forgettable quality.

What Do Strangers Find Attractive About You: Castle – It’s Time for Healing, Not War

You give good advice. You’re a little different from Pile Two in regards to this. People already seek you out for your charisma, but this is an unexpected element in the interaction. During conversations and interactions, you throw in little examples of your experiences and people begin to realize there’s a lot more to you. I think that’s why people enjoy when you peel back a bit of those layers because it’s a nice change. People seek you out for a lot more than the usual, because you have more to give than just your regular brand, whatever it might be. They enjoy just. Talking to you to be honest. I’m not sure how many realize this, but you’re not a perfect person. You are not an angel here to spread whatever gospel every other person is always trying to preach as if they’ve never done anything bad in their life, which is really nice to interact with from time to time. Also I don’t know why I want to say this but you can be a little blunt at times too, which can be funny.

Songs: Slime – Danny Gonzalez, Kyouran Hey Kids!! – THE ORAL CIGARETTES, Blowback – The Killers, smiling when i die – Sasha Alex Sloan, Nobody’s Home – Avril Lavigne, Tongue Tied – Grouplove, Spectrum – Florence + The Machine

Pile Four

Personality: X of Wands Rx, Knight of Wands, Knight

So interestingly enough, I was almost immediately denied access to get your cards, but obviously I’m here so I was let in, and then I get all these cards as well as your first song lmao. So quite the dramatic change. Your pile has such a light-hearted energy. I want to say pile because I. Feel like the authenticity is a bit protected right now lol. So for right now, the pile is giving off some fun and light-hearted energy. It feels like playing pretend, like if you look between the two knight cards (ironically), it reminds me of kids laying down their rules and making up their world and someone is going to go save the princess. There’s an romanticism of love movies and scenarios—it’s a very pure and cute energy. It’s not soft though, it’s very loud and brash almost. Your pile doesn’t like dealing with pessimism, or I should say they don’t believe that life or love has to be hard and heavy or deep. Not in an immature way, but like you can have a happy and breezy time while still be undying and intense like the way media always tries to talk about love. There’s a reckless side of your pile too that can be quite obnoxious. I always take this Knight of Wands card to be a bit loud and a sign of someone not knowing when to shut up because of it’s story haha. It’s also an energy of someone who isn’t afraid to go against the grain and be themselves. I feel like people are expecting the prim and polished personality and appearance of the first card, but what they get for life is the second knight card. Both are cute but the second one is just a lot more to handle when it’s unexpected, however both are true to who you are. Giving big Leo energy.

Physically: IX of Wands Rx, X of Pentacles Rx, Full Moon, Gemini

I’m not taking it for your song, but Dangerously In Love by Beyonce is playing right now. I think you really captivate people by your dualistic nature, but at the same time you don’t...it’s a bit difficult to explain. So there are different sides to you, but they’re both authentic. You’re not putting up a front, it’s just that sometimes one is more prominent than the other or you’re just feeling that mood more than the other. It’s not something you really hide either, like if you pay attention to conversations or details, it’s very clear that both the prim and proper knight as well as the rowdy knight are both you, and that bleeds over into your appearance as well. It’s weird because I need to interpret this Ten of Pentacles in both ways. The Nine of Wands just completely stands for you not really caring about appearances. Fully. It’s not something that you really give much thought unless you’re kinda forced to, which brings us to our Ten. On some days, you are looking Extravagant very put together 10/10. It could be that your outfit fits your style and look perfectly, or it’s for an event, etc. However sometimes there will be a few things out of place or maybe it’s like a bit messy—feels like those like ‘messy bun’ hairstyles? Due to the influence of this Nine of Wands. Then on other days you just go back to be completely natural full on sweatpants no attempt at wardrobe—complete contrast to what people are imagining in their head. I don’t know why I get the sense that people don’t immediately meet you first before they get to know you lol. However the way you can just jump from both ends of the spectrum at random moments and still look pretty good is really impressive to people.

What Do Strangers Find Attractive About You: Escapist – Come Home to Yourself

Yup! You have a great imagination and you don’t stress the practicality of it all. I don’t really get that you avoid things too much, even though this card does warn of it, but this is one of your strengths. You enjoy having a good time, and you encourage those around you to de-stress and just do something they enjoy every once in a while (or thrice in a while, fuck it). People are drawn in by that charismatic nature you have quite easily. I’m going to sound annoying, but I think just being careful balancing Fifth and Sixth house energies (so hobbies in contrast to stuff like daily chores) will give you a pretty strong mindset.

Songs: DOLLA SIGN SLIME (feat. Megan Thee Stallion) – Lil Nas X, Just Around the Riverbend – Pocahontas (Movie), Alive – Krewella, I’m Like a Lawyer with the Way I’m Always Trying to Get You Off (Me & You) – Fall Out Boy

#pick a card #pick a card reading #pac #tarot #tarot reading #tarotblr #mysticalcreations

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xalygatorx · 6 months

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Unbound | Chapter 10, "What You Want"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: The party has reached the Grove after a stressful few days on the road from the goblin camp. The tiefling refugees and Zevlor join their camp for the night to celebrate their victory and rest up before resuming their journey to Baldur’s Gate. While making her rounds, Áine receives a proposition from Astarion.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: 18+/NSFW (p-in-v sex); Astarion romance scene #1 spoilers; suggestive content & dialogue; angst; trauma (intrusive thoughts, self-loathing); lightly proofread; encouraging comments welcome to assuage my anxiety over whether I could do Astarion’s inner monologue justice here hahaha jk unless

Word Count: 8.3k

Listening to: White Winter Hymnal - Fleet Foxes, I Will Love You (Even If It Kills Me) - Too Far Moon (again)

“When I come near, your odor alone is enough to make my neck sweat and my hairs stand on end.”

Easily able to hear the conversation taking place in front of Lae’zel’s tent, Astarion snuck a glance at Áine’s expression, seeing if he could gauge her interest based on look alone. He nearly shot the piss this lot passed for wine through his nose at the sight of her impossibly rounded chocolate eyes and the polite smile plastered across her lips. His mind cemented that sight into a memory that he could only hope would enter his reverie’s nightly rotation and serve to chase at least one recollection of the horrors he’d endured back to its rightful shadows.

Then again, even if caught off-guard, perhaps she’d say “yes” to Lae’zel. He focused back on their conversation and turned his gaze toward the tieflings drunkenly mingling nearby to obscure his intrusion.

“I want to taste you,” Lae’zel was saying, her confidence palpable. It was an honest pride, unlike the sort Astarion wore at times, he realized. She truly believed these things of herself and he envied her for it. “Perhaps tonight. Perhaps later. But I want it all the same.”

Astarion listened with figuratively bated breath for Áine’s answer. He would make his final advances tonight regardless of what she told Lae’zel or anyone else. 200 years’ worth of perfecting his methods under threat of torturous punishment from Cazador would not be for nothing when he finally had a personal use for his skills. If she said “yes” to anyone else, then the plan would simply adjust rather than fail, just like when he’d thought she was seeing Shadowheart.

Not particularly to his surprise but to his benefit, Áine was in the process of letting the githyanki down gently. “I’m sorry, Lae’zel, I don’t feel the same way. But thank you. I think.” Astarion smirked, obscuring his expression behind another sip of whatever acrid brew lay in his wine bottle.

For the time being, he let his attention wander across the party and their guests, letting the rest of their conversation wrap up without his ear. Áine seemed to be making the rounds around the camp and all its residents, regular and temporary, so she would eventually end up at his tent as well. And if she didn’t, he supposed he’d go seek her out, but Astarion had complete confidence that she’d come. Several times, if all went accordingly.

Meanwhile, Lae’zel was taking Áine’s polite rejection with as much confidence as she’d delivered its related proposition. “Your loss, I fear,” she said, still smiling. “One day soon you will wonder how my lips might have tasted. How my fingers on your skin might’ve felt… And you will wish you could return to this lost moment.”

Áine wasn’t often at a loss for words, but she was now. And yet still she admired Lae’zel’s self-assured demeanor where most would have crumbled in her place at being rejected for a post-party romp. In fact, she’d seen a couple of those responses firsthand already just that night. She was beginning to think Shadowheart may have been onto something when she’d told her all those nights ago that the majority of their camp wanted a shot at her. The idea made her more anxious than flattered.

With Lae’zel and her steady unfazed response, however, Áine allowed herself to just feel flattered. “If that does come to pass, I know I’ll have no one but myself to blame,” she said, smiling. “I hope I’m as confident in myself as you are someday.”

Lae’zel smiled back at her, the tilt of her thin lips no longer holding a sensual edge but one of camaraderie. “You deserve to be. I can firmly state that your only major fault that I have witnessed thus far has been your taste in mating partners,” she said. Áine laughed, content to sit in self-deprecation as Lae’zel added, “Oh, but do enjoy yourself this night. I intend to, myself. Wyll or Astarion in particular both look rather tempting...”

Áine’s brows rose, her eyes sliding toward where Astarion stood at his tent. He watched the party with an expression flitting between amusement and a glower, occasionally raising a green glass wine bottle to his lips and seeming to regret it every time. Despite the twisty faces he pulled, he was immaculate as always. Just looking at him made her chest tighten a little, as had begun to happen any time he caught her eye in the past few days. Truly, she’d felt that twinge ever since he’d kissed her that night which already felt like so long ago.

And amidst that twinge at Lae’zel’s mention of propositioning Astarion was…jealousy? She had no right to be jealous, but she—unlike a certain vampire—could admit that she was. Perhaps he’d be taken with a proposition from Lae’zel, after all. She didn’t hold any sort of right to him and he could do whatever he liked. A simple fling was also often preferable in these times and a much easier task to manage for most, and Áine wasn’t most. As much as it ate at her, she supposed it might be best for all parties if his fancies turned elsewhere and she could start squashing the feelings growing inside her.

“Well, I just passed Wyll on the beach for whatever it’s worth,” Áine told Lae’zel. “And you can, of course, see your other interest from here… Whatever you do tonight, Lae’zel, I hope you have a nice time.”

“And you as well,” Lae’zel said, inclining her head. Áine couldn’t help but feel heartened when she saw the githyanki’s gaze flicker first toward the beach rather than the tent adjacent to hers.

Áine made her way around the tents further back from the fire, careful to give Gale’s tent a wide berth following their own exchange earlier in the night. His advance she’d seen coming more easily than Lae’zel’s, which had come out of left field, but it hadn’t made her any more ready for it. No matter how sorry she felt and how she communicated that to him, he still tried and seemed increasingly bitter toward her responses each time.

She’d feared something similar from Wyll, but with his new devilish appearance courtesy of Mizora’s punishment for his refusal to kill Karlach—which had come to pass during their trek back to the Grove—he was more doused in angst than anything down by the shoreline. Áine sighed to herself as she approached Halsin, her dour expression fading only to offer a smile and wave to Mol as she passed by. She hoped that Wyll found it in himself to join the party before it wound to a close. Of all the people who might judge him for his new appearance, she really didn’t think the refugees he’d helped so much would be among them.

“Halsin!” Áine greeted the Archdruid over the jubilant, but occasionally raucous party noise around them. She took in his empty hands and asked, “Can I grab you a drink?”

“Oh, no thank you,” he chuckled. “In truth, I rarely imbibe. The stuff goes right to my head and, before you know it, I’d be breaking into song or declaring love to the first person I lay eyes on.”

Áine laughed. “That hardly sounds like a detriment to a good party, but no pressure, of course,” she said.

With all the other noise in the vicinity, Astarion now found Áine’s conversation to be out of earshot, only able to pick up the occasional dulcet note of her voice amongst the clamor. It was most certainly not because he’d grown accustomed to seeking out her voice. At the thought, he remembered seeing her by the fireside just a few nights back with tears streaming down her face, her fingers still positioned diligently against her lute strings.

Astarion pulled a face and took another swallow of wine, which caused him to pull an even stronger face. Bleeding Hells, he wanted a proper vintage, but more than that he wanted to know what that tree trunk of an elf had just done to make her grin like that!

“But I digress,” Halsin was saying, “there are many grateful people here who want to spend time with you. Go on now, don’t waste a night like this talking to me. We will discuss your problem tomorrow.”

Áine frowned at both halves of his statement. “Firstly, it wouldn’t be a waste. But second, I thought you said we could run through some things once we reached the Grove. But we’re putting off the conversation again?”

Halsin frowned. “I understand your eagerness. However, it is something better discussed on a fresh morning, I think. Your parasite shows no further signs of turning before the morrow and a well-deserved night of recreation and rest awaits you.” He offered her an encouraging smile and waved her on. “Enjoy yourself. Seek out some wine before it runs dry—there are a lot of thirsty people around here.”

Yeah, no kidding, Áine thought, artfully dodging both Lae’zel’s and Gale’s eyes as she was dismissed from Halsin’s company. She trotted along toward Shadowheart’s tent, dodging a very tipsy Bex and some other well-drunk tieflings along the way. Áine couldn’t help the smile that formed on her lips at seeing everyone so happy. Even if they ran into trouble on the morrow, like Halsin had said, at least they had tonight.

“Everyone seems to be in high spirits, don’t they?” Shadowheart suggested as she drew closer, brandishing a silver goblet. “Can I tempt you?”

Áine paused heavily, suddenly uncertain of what she meant and opting for caution. “...With what?”

Shadowheart’s lips curled into an amused smile. “Wine and glorious friendship.”

“Yes, please,” Áine said, drawing a chuckle from Shadowheart. “Sorry, it’s been a minefield out there tonight. I’ve begun to err on the side of overcareful.”

“I told you that the others were firmly on the prowl,” the cleric said, pouring a goblet for Áine. “Even more true now than it was when I first said it. At least you’ve almost gone full circle at this point, only one or two more stops to make if I’ve paid appropriate attention.” Behind a sip of wine, she mumbled, “Only one of high importance though by my estimation…”

“What was that?” Áine challenged her with a laugh at how utterly smug Shadowheart looked after she lowered her goblet again. The bard took a sip of the wine she’d been gifted, her brows rising as the rich fruity notes graced her tongue. “My goodness, where did you find this?”

Shadowheart gave Áine an ambiguous look that reeked of mischief. “I may have nicked one of the vintages that Wyll stashed away in his tent,” she said. “But you’ll never get me to admit such a second time.”

Áine laughed. “Shadowheart, shame on you!”

“What?! You probably pilfered this bottle, yourself, before the little rat scurried off with it,” she pointed out, refilling her goblet with abandon. “He can’t steal every good wine he sees for himself, he has to share with the class. I’ve simply liberated a single bottle as a treat and you’re welcome for it.”

Áine couldn’t help the amused smirk that found her lips, the heady wine layering on top of the weaker blends she’d already taken that night—many of those pressed into her hands by happy attendees wanting to share their spoils—and making her head pleasantly swim. “Thank you for sharing,” Áine said with a sassy curtsey, a gesture returned by Shadowheart as the two giggled. “What did you mean by ‘only one of importance’?”

“You know what I meant,” Shadowheart said, taking a deep sip of her wine. “Unless I’ve missed you speaking to him, but I daresay I haven’t.”

“Astarion?” Áine asked and, at Shadowheart’s dubious look, she said, “I haven’t just yet. Not for any reason, I just—”

“Prefer to save the best for last?” Shadowheart suggested. Áine started to speak but ended up pursing her lips, silenced by embarrassment. The cleric grinned triumphantly. “Well, go on, what’s the concern? Are you worried he’ll join the list of people to ask you to bed tonight?”

“No!” Áine said but quickly recanted. “I mean, a little.”

Shadowheart measured Áine’s expression before she slowly asked, “...or are you worried he won’t join that list?”

“I don’t know,” Áine admitted. “For all the reasons we discussed, this sort of thing is a big deal for me in ways that usually just inconvenience others. And while I felt guilty turning down Lae’zel, Karlach, and Gale, I—”

“Karlach, too?” Shadowheart asked, surprised. “I must’ve missed that conversation.”

“She was the first I said ‘hello’ to tonight,” Áine said, “and she was very kind about it. Like you were.”

“That should be the standard, you know,” Shadowheart pointed out. “Anything less than respect shouldn’t be tolerated.”

“Do you know how many people I would have had to ‘not tolerate’ if I followed that rule?” Áine sighed. “And that isn’t a ‘oh look at me, people want to have sex with me’ sort of brag, it’s just the uncomfortable truth.”

Shadowheart frowned. “I suppose. At least you don’t people-please. I would worry about you more if you did.” Áine’s heart warmed at the cleric’s protective tone. “Right, so which are you hoping for then? That he’ll ask or he won’t? Because I’m wagering he will, for whatever that’s worth.”

Áine blushed. “I truly don’t know. I suppose I’ll know if he suggests something,” she said. “That’s all to say if he even does. Lae’zel had an eye on him earlier, so who knows? He may have plans by the time I end up talking to him.”

“You’re counting on that, aren’t you?” Shadowheart asked suddenly. “Because it’s easier than facing the decision yourself.”

“You’re alarmingly observant when you’re drinking,” Áine remarked. She sighed. “It’s all been tension so far and it’s been…nice. I’ve never been interested in someone like this before and I’m afraid I’ll mess it up. By what I’m like as a person, as a partner, or by my actions in the moment. By doubting myself and the truth of my feelings.”

Shadowheart studied Áine, taking a deep breath and releasing it in a sigh. “Far be it from me to encourage you toward that rakish vampire—and, believe me, I don’t believe his intentions to be pure regardless of who he associates with—but if one of you is to ‘ruin’ whatever you have going on, it will not be you. And if you do then so be it,” she said, shrugging. She swirled her wine around her goblet, looking at its dark currents thoughtfully. “In my experience, the regret we feel at not seeking something out is stronger than that which we feel at seeking something out and finding it wasn’t what we thought.”

Shadowheart’s gaze lifted back to Áine’s. “All that to say, at least you’ll know if you try. But do be careful. I am a cleric after all and can fashion a stake in mere minutes if need be.”

Áine gave her a tender smile and collected Shadowheart into a hug. “Thank you.”

Shadowheart hugged the bard close, resting her chin against her shoulder and gently patting her back. Over Áine’s shoulder, she caught Astarion’s eye who was attempting a surreptitious glance their way. He froze when they locked eyes, at least until Shadowheart gave him a teasing wag of her brows while she still held the object of his interest in her arms.

Astarion scoffed and looked away with a roll of his eyes, causing Shadowheart to chuckle. Áine felt the movement of her chest against her own and asked, “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing,” Shadowheart said as they parted, sipping her wine. “Here, have one for the road,” she added as she topped off Áine’s goblet. “And, again…be careful. But also enjoy yourself.”

Shyly, Áine smiled and inclined her head in thanks for the advice and the wine. Sipping from her goblet as she turned to head back into the fray, Áine’s eyes wandered the party, but they of course settled in a predictable spot. Astarion’s vibrant crimson eyes caught hers the moment she did, snaring her attention as wholly as ever and affirming that she would indeed have to face whatever would end up surfacing between them that night. Perhaps nothing would—but the possibility of “something” unnerved and electrified her at once.

Clutching the goblet from Shadowheart in her palm like a lifeline, Áine crossed the distance to where Astarion stood waiting, contemplating his bottle and the wine within until she stood before him. “Good evening so far?” Áine wondered, measuring what was gone from the bottle he held to try to determine that.

“It is now,” he said, smooth as ever. Áine gave him a scolding look but couldn’t keep the smile from her lips. Astarion smirked and commented, “You know, I never pictured myself as a hero. Never thought I’d be the one they’d toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…”

Áine watched him pause to take a long sip of his wine before he finished his thought. “I hate it. This is awful.”

The bard laughed. “Surely it can’t be so bad? We did a good thing.”

“The tally of lives didn’t change much—a few goblins killed to save a few tieflings,” he said with a shrug. “And what do I get for all my hard work? A pat on the head and vinegar for wine.”

“Oh stop, you got to kill a horde of goblins, too,” Áine chastised him, her tone affectionate despite her scolding. “And the wine is not that bad.”

Astarion’s brows rose and he challenged her by offering the bottle. Áine rolled her eyes and shook her head, but took the bottle in her free hand, tilting it back to take a sip. When a rich, dry red wine hit her tongue, she looked at the bottle and then at Astarion, bewildered at how he could find anything wrong with the blend.

He mistook her baffled expression for distaste. “See what I mean? Awful!”

Áine licked her lips, a motion that Astarion followed with keen interest, as she looked back down at the bottle. “It tastes relatively normal to me, but perhaps our palates differ,” she suggested, although she was wondering why he was trying to drink wine in the first place. He’d told her and Gale once in passing conversation that any food he’d tried since turning tasted wrong on the tongue, wouldn’t wine have the same result? Maybe he wasn’t ready to accept that yet. “Try mine?” Áine offered instead, holding out her goblet. She decided to withhold that it was an expensive vintage for now until he tried it. For science, of course.

Astarion took the goblet she offered, his wintry touch ghosting across her warm skin and, she thought, lingering a bit longer than usual. When she stole a glance at his face, she found him watching her with an intensity that caught her off-guard. Without breaking eye contact, he tried the wine she offered him, and she saw his throat work again before he said, “I admit it is better, but still leaves much to be desired.”

Áine wasn’t going to be the one to tell him that wine wouldn’t taste good to him anymore if even these decadent reds didn’t pique his interest. She didn’t have a death wish.

Astarion handed her back her goblet, politely refusing the bottle when she tried to return it to him, giving up on that one completely. He sighed loudly. “All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?” he griped.

Áine was occasionally sipping the wine from her goblet, resting her lips against the rim even when she wasn’t. The cool metal was a helpful grounding tool. She snorted a little, glancing toward the festivities taking place all around them. “And what do you consider ‘a little fun’?” she asked. Here it was—either he’d suggest something akin to what everyone else seemed to be hungry for that night or he’d flip her expectations and crave something else. Violence, perhaps. Mischief, most certainly.

“By the Hells. Sex, my dear. A night of passion.”

Shadowheart had been right. Áine paused heavily, her lips still brushing the rim of her goblet as she looked up at him and studied his expression. He had his rake mask on, not a crack in it to be seen.

While she introspected a little at how his suggestion made her feel, she said aloud, “Ah, I see,” with a soft laugh. As somewhat of a test, Áine nodded toward Lae’zel’s tent and informed him, “I was talking to Lae’zel a little bit ago and she mentioned having half a mind to seek you out for some extracurricular. For what that’s worth.”

Astarion’s brows rose. “Is that what you want?”

Now it was Áine’s turn to be confused. “What do you mean? You said you wanted sex.”

“Yes, and you’ve suggested that I seek out Lae’zel, or let her seek me out,” Astarion said. “Is that what you’d prefer I do?”

Áine frowned at him. “I want you to do what you want to do. Always. Consider it a heads-up, if nothing else.”

There was that assertion of autonomy again. Astarion didn’t know how to handle her when conversations took this turn. He hardly knew how to handle himself and he hated that feeling. The rest of it, he craved. Dangerously. However, Astarion also craved needling her a little. “Right, now who’s jealous?” he accused with a crooked smirk.

Áine gave him a sideways look that reeked of disapproval, which only egged him on. “I am not jealous,” she declared, but she was lying and they both knew it. Instead of continuing to persist, she grumbled into her goblet and took a deep gulp of wine.

He watched her intently, gauging every microexpression in her pretty face as he said, “What if what I want is a night with you?” Her face visibly warmed over and she didn’t speak right away. He found himself filling the silence when she didn’t. “I know, me and everyone else this eve. It wouldn’t take my specialized range of hearing to guess that you’ve had such a proposition at every stop tonight.”

“Shadowheart didn’t ask,” she supplied, her lips pursing as she realized he was pretty much correct about the others. “Wyll didn’t either.”

“Shadowheart doesn’t surprise me. She already took her shot,” Astarion commented, his unanswered question hanging painfully in the air while they chitchatted around it. “Wyll does surprise me though.”

Áine shrugged and inclined her head back toward the beach. “He’s having a time. When I checked on him earlier, he wasn’t keen on joining the festivities. He’s still adjusting to his new look and he was wary of the tieflings seeing him like that.”

Astarion scoffed. “Was he, now? Oh, boo-hoo, ‘no one at the tiefling party knows how hard it is to have horns,’ now that makes complete sense,” he remarked.

“Shush,” Áine half-cackled, giving him a playful shove. “Gods, that’s not funny. You’re positively evil for making me laugh at that.”

Astarion smirked. “An absolute villain, I know,” he bantered back. He’d stepped closer to Áine after she’d given him her little shove and he was comfortably cloaked in her bouquet—the delicious, tempting scent of her blood combined with soap and mint leaves. “Did you want Wyll to ask you?” he asked, dropping his voice to a low husk.

Áine shook her head, having to tilt her head back some to meet his eyes when he was this close. “No. I was relieved that he didn’t,” she said honestly. The quiet stretched again, and then apropos of his earlier question, Áine finally gave him a slow nod. “I would say yes, by the way.”

Astarion was a little slower on the uptake, unsure if she was referencing back to his original question or if he was experiencing a form of wishful thinking. “Yes to what, dearest?”

Áine swallowed against a suddenly tight throat and replied, “To you. If what you wanted…was me.”

Astarion gave her a rakish smile. “But we’re not jealous, are we?”

Áine gave him a hard look in return. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

“Fine, fine,” the vampire said with a chuckle, raising his hands in surrender. “Once things quiet down… Once everyone’s asleep, we’ll find each other.” Astarion nodded toward the far side of their camp. “The little glade we set up in when we last passed through here isn’t far from here… That should give us plenty of privacy to…get to know each other better.”

Still a little timid, Áine nodded back. She was nervous, but it was a nice sort of nervous. One might even call it “butterflies.” Gods, she was deep in it already. However, she’d decided she would follow what her gut told her to do this time and when he’d suggested that he wanted to spend the night with her, the thrill that had hummed through her bones and the heat that had warmed her from her belly to her heart told her all she needed to know. She wanted to know what happened next for them.

To him, she said, “I suppose I’ll see you there, then.”

Astarion smiled, the expression perfectly dashing and sensual as he murmured, “Indeed, you will, my love… Indeed, you will.”

His voice and the words he wrapped within it did funny things to her heart and Áine gave him a look before that look crumbled into a soft laugh and a smile. “Right,” she murmured, handing him her goblet. “I leave you the ‘still much to be desired but better’ wine and will now make myself scarce.”

Astarion accepted her offering and raised the goblet to her as she stepped away. In truth, the wine she’d offered him was as acrid as what was in the bottle she took with her, but it was less to choke down, he supposed. Someday perhaps he would admit to himself that wine was as much off the table as any other consumable that wasn’t blood, but today was not that day.

He watched his little bard find her way to Alfira, greeting the other woman with a fond hug and finding herself immediately furnished with a borrowed flute. Subconsciously, he rotated the goblet against the press of his lower lip until he found where she’d rested the metal against hers, her warmth still lingering there. Astarion closed his lips over the spot, disguising his fixation with a sip of wine that nearly drained what remained in the goblet.

As his eyes traced Áine’s movements—her dancing while she and Alfira performed, the rise and fall of her breasts as she portioned her breath between the flute and her steps, every time her hair caught the light of the fire or the moon peeking over the canopy, the joyful sparkle in her eyes that he found himself hoping he represented one small part of—he took a moment to collect himself.

Astarion, at no fault to himself or his allure, had been almost certain that she would give him the polite “no” she’d delivered around the camp several times already that evening. He’d had competition from their allies, even from some of the tieflings, and even though he knew he was the obviously correct choice amongst them all, she’d still picked him of her own volition. He was positively preening, but he was also wary. Wary of how easily this singular woman’s “yes” had set him aflame, the “heart of a schoolboy” feeling anew yet again, and also how the personal stock he was developing in winning her over might cause him to make a mistake.

This is a transaction, he reminded himself firmly. Sex was always a transaction, regardless of feeling. He’d learned that swift and soon and had been reminded of it every day since that first time allowed out of the kennels to prowl the streets and lure back a prize he’d deliver to his master. His former master.

Astarion’s jaw set. This was hardly any different. He’d chosen her as a target, an easy one at that, and would follow through on executing his plan as he’d originally intended. The only difference was that he’d get to keep this prize and its benefits of protection. He’d never have to hunt, to lie, to bed for another’s gain again.

He was in control of this situation, he reminded himself as he returned his pensive stare to its subject, teaching himself to dismiss the things that transfixed him. He wouldn’t be controlled by her or by his feelings for her, he wouldn’t be tricked into a vulnerable position, into servitude, into capture by the tangential side-effects of physical intimacy. Astarion brought those additional walls down around his mind and heart, remembering his foolish attachments from those first few victims he took in Cazador’s name. The guilt, the heartache, the shreds of hope—all of it had simply added to his misery in those sparse stone dungeon rooms after he’d delivered those first ill-chosen innocent souls to their fate.

Misery would have no company from him. Never again.

It occurred to him later, while slipping off his shirt under the cloak of shadow just past the trees circling the clearing, that despite telling himself that he was in full control of the entire situation, the entire seduction, that he was awfully anxious for that to be true in its entirety.

Astarion chalked it up to how much of his guaranteed personal safety relied on this and also from the mild pressure he’d felt start to build by being the partner Áine had chosen out of several available options. It was different than seducing someone in a tavern or from a street corner. He wouldn’t be taking her to her death afterward—he’d see her the next day, travel on as usual, and likely even sleep with her again at some point if she asked or he felt a need to renew his “contract,” so to speak. And he had no doubt she’d ask. But it was something quite different to know that this encounter wouldn’t be the last he had with someone.

He worried the inside of his lower lip with the edge of one fang, firmly pushing down the anxiety rising in him that made as little sense as the foreign symptoms of desire that he’d only seen in others who looked upon him for ages but hadn’t felt within his own body for centuries.

Astarion grumbled at his physical betrayals, setting his well-worn and oft-repaired ruffled shirt down on the grass in front of him as he sifted through his mind for some of his best lines, the ones he felt most comfortable delivering and also a few with a good track record for success. “I’ve wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you,” was always a strong choice. And it was a line he’d used a thousand times over as well. That would help him numb himself a bit and dissociate from what was soon to come.

Or so he hoped, anyway. Maybe she’d changed her mind or passed out after all the wine and dancing had taken their toll on her.

He’d no sooner thought that than he heard familiar, hesitant footsteps working their way from the direction of the campsite. Astarion’s mouth twitched with a faint smile that echoed a feeling of triumph, of anticipation…and of something bittersweet. He wasn’t a monster, after all. He did feel a touch guilty for reeling her in like this. The poor thing was infatuated, just as he’d intended for her to be, but he knew quite well he’d played the rake as well as ever. Of course she was entranced by his practiced façade. He’d yet to meet someone he’d tried to seduce who didn’t end up under the spell of its glamor.

It is, after all, all you’re good for.

Astarion dropped his head forward, wincing at the voice in his head reciting something Cazador had told him so many times that Astarion had begun to hear it in his own voice, telling himself the truth of things. He heard the footsteps nearby when they crossed the edge of the clearing, and then when they stopped, too.

He shelved the despair that clawed its way forward with incrementally more success in each attempt to overtake him again. There was no Cazador in this scenario, there would never be again. The only person he needed to worry about for the moment was growing evermore hesitant just shy of his hiding place and would retreat to camp if he didn’t show himself soon.

Roughly, lovelessly, Astarion rubbed himself through the taut leather of his pants, his jaw tightening as familiar nausea seeped into the pit of his stomach. He winced as his own touch turned harsher, hateful even. His mind recited old lines, ones he was soon to use on a surely unsuspecting Áine and ones he used on himself to ensure he would perform as he must. Remember to tell them how much you want this, he ran through in his head, his palm still grinding against his cock until his anatomy was bullied into arousal. Now stay hard until she finishes. This is your payment. This is a trade. Remember that and remember to smile.

One shuddering breath later, Astarion donned the mask as professionally as ever, all traces of self-loathing, of pain, of grief for what he’d lost neatly leeched from his exterior, nestled like a leaden ball behind his bared chest, where his heart should’ve beat. And then he stepped out into the moonlight.

Áine was still there but looked as though she was just considering heading back. She stilled her step when he showed himself and he watched her eyes trace down his torso, across his muscular arms, before they snapped back to meet his. She reminded him of a fawn, which was a far cry from the hellion he knew she could be—it made seeing her like this that much more new, that much more a secret between them. He’d be gentle with this prey, Astarion told himself, eager to hang onto this vision rather than the more dangerous alternative of looking at her and seeing her. If this endured, he would remain fully in control.

“There you are,” he greeted her, remembering to smile. “I’ve been waiting.” Astarion inclined his head as he approached her, his gaze trailing languidly across her clothed body, noting where the fabric clung to a curve, where it draped across her toned limbs.

He also kept a speculative eye on her expressions and how she reacted to him, body and words. Her attraction to him was consistent in how it gave her away—he could feel her heat already from where she stood, just at arm’s length, and hear her heart flutter first in nerves and then in wanting. Astarion noticed that the more of this he took in, the less nauseous he seemed to feel, perhaps because his attention was elsewhere. Áine smiled at him, either what he offered or what he’d said pleasing to her.

Emboldened, Astarion added, his voice a calculated, sensual husk, “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you… Waiting to have you.”

Something about that didn’t land. Áine gave him a peculiar look although her smile lingered and he wasn’t sure what had tipped her off. He’d heard himself give a flawless delivery of a line that had made many a man, maiden, all weak at the knees.

Áine smirked as she fiddled with the ties of her shirt, rolling the tiny knotted ends between her fingertips. “Before or after the headbutt?” she asked. “Or perhaps because of the headbutt?”

Shit.

Astarion pursed his lips, already mentally lashing himself and working on a recovery. Of course she’d found that funny rather than sexy—he hadn’t accounted for how different their meeting had been from the others he’d scouted. They were no sensual brush of hands in a tavern near closing, no whispered word against the ear whose echo carried only to an inn room door, no loveless meeting of eyes in a darkened street where the fire of carnal favors were the only ones with light on offer.

They were a dagger to the throat, an offer for companionship, a roll in the dirt, and yes, even a headbutt when he hadn’t let her go the first time she’d asked. They were a quiet conversation fireside, a snarky comment and an answering laugh, a sometimes-bard and sometimes-swordswoman with a sneak-thief archer protecting her flank, an injury and a salve in perfect alternation thus far.

The part of the salve this night it seemed, Áine smiled at him, the crescent of her lips warm and inviting and putting the moon above them to shame. “I could always replicate our meeting,” she offered. “You don’t have me yet, you know.”

“Don’t I?” Astarion challenged her, a little unnerved by her now. She was turning the tables by flirting with him, by seducing him. He couldn’t recall ever being seduced. Never needed to be, really. And he didn’t need to be now either, but it felt…nice to have her eyes on him, to be met with a—he cursed himself for even thinking it—partner in this sense. There was no power struggle either, it seemed, which was also new. His earlier attempts to keep his mind away from Áine as a person rather than something to hunt and catch were failing one after another and the way she spoke to him felt kind and playful. She spoke to him like an equal as much as she ever had. “You’re here, after all. And…I don’t think you want to talk.”

“No?” Áine bantered back seamlessly. Perhaps his slip had been to his benefit. She seemed somehow more relaxed, more interested than before, even when his little lines had been working. What a strange one you are, he thought, still studying her as she asked, “What do I want, then?”

He was back on track. “I think,” Astarion purred, stepping closer as his hand traced the air around her, not yet moving to touch her, “you want to be known.” He smiled at her meaningfully. “To be tasted.”

Áine’s lower lip caught between her teeth. He could feel the heat coming off her skin as her blush deepened, he could smell her desire and it could only rival the bouquet of her life’s blood that he’d come to recognize without question. An alien sensation coursed through him and went straight to his cock where it still pressed against the seamed leather of his trousers. It jarred him and, were he any less broken, he may have thought that had been his own first taste of desire. But Astarion felt nothing when it came to sex. He’d been broken of that long ago. It hadn’t even taken a year.

She interrupted his internalized confusion when she turned the tables on him yet again. “And what do you want?” Áine asked, her voice hushed into a murmur that sent a shiver up Astarion’s spine. No, it was the air. A wayward breeze, he corrected viciously. She wasn’t allowed this sort of influence on him, this was what he meant to do to her. And clearly was, but…had he ever been asked what he wanted? Especially on the precipice of carnal pleasure?

What did he want?

His hesitation did not breach his mask. “What do any of us want? Pleasure,” he reasoned simply, perfectly present while his thoughts careened down forbidden paths. The best he could do was block out his wayward mind, focus on what he had complete control over at last—his body. And yet wasn’t he just repeating its most habitual motions? Now wasn’t the time to question himself. “Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy.”

Astarion could see the way her eyes grew heavy with lust, the cadence of his voice purposeful and near-hypnotic. He could see her beginning to bend—he simply needed her to break. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me?”

Part of him wanted her to say “no.” Not to refuse him, but to tell him that wasn’t what she wanted. To tell him that this was somehow more than just a bit of dissociation, at least for him, more than what he logically knew it really was. And she did see something in his eyes, or so it seemed to him, that made her hesitate.

Yet as different as she was from anyone and everyone before her, Astarion artfully derailed her train of thought with the simple gesture of skimming his fingers up the length of her arm, her skin like summer against his icy touch. Áine leaned in toward him, her lashes fluttered, and a soft sigh eased her lips apart. It was all the answer he needed, the only one he was comfortable receiving despite all his contrary wishes. Astarion smiled and whispered, “I thought so.”

Áine’s eyes remained conflicted despite their lack of focus and Astarion relied on his distractions winning out before he could discover what had her faltering. He couldn’t stop to wonder if he’d let something slip through his otherwise carefully curated façade. It didn’t matter.

His fingertips trailed up her sleeve, tracing the sweep of her collarbone until he reached the ties of her shirt, and his carefully tended nails found purchase on one of the knots she toyed with. Astarion’s eyes flickered up to meet hers as he tugged the tie loose, taking the hem of her shirt and lifting it over her head. This was a procedure. It was practiced. He’d help her undress and then he, with her help if she preferred, would disrobe. Then he’d simply initiate with a kiss, lay her down in the grass, and uphold his part of the unspoken bargain. It was the most repeated pattern in his lifetime. All he had to do…

Astarion’s regimented thoughts, the rehearsed little moves he’d run through in his mind, all sputtered to a halt the moment he let her shirt flutter to the grass and he laid eyes on her naked body again. He’d counted on having once already seen her topless down in the river that night, thinking that this at least would have no way to distract him again. And yet the sight of her lavender skin, star-shaped scars, and perfect, pert dusky breasts all highlighted by the celestial landscape above them left him stunned all over again.

Luckily—or perhaps not—for him, Áine was too busy minding her own clothing to notice him staring, his mask forgotten for an instant. She fumbled with her belt with nervous hands until he reached out and hooked a finger in the strap, pulling her toward him and catching her parted lips in a kiss when she looked up. Nimbly, he unfastened her buckle and untied the laces of her trousers all while his tongue explored her warm, yielding mouth.

He felt her fingers at his waistband and smirked against her lips. “Eager little thing, aren’t you,” he mumbled and claimed her mouth again before she could snap back, causing her to whimper against his tongue and fangs instead. Astarion barely swallowed the growl that rose in his throat at this new sound of hers, surprised at himself and how tightly wound he felt.

She succeeded in loosening his trousers but he snagged her persistent hands in his own before she could go any further. Astarion placed Áine’s hands on his shoulders and reached down to get rid of his own pants, suddenly anxious at the feeling of someone else’s hands touching his skin, his clothes, trying to strip him down to touch his cock. Memories of pawing, grabbing, chafing touches from rough, hungry hands seeped in like a sickness and he tensed against the intrusive tactile flashbacks.

Astarion broke their kiss and swallowed thickly, opening his eyes to look at the woman before him and remind himself precisely where he was and what was happening outside his tortured mind. He could feel Áine’s hands twitch against his shoulders, but they stayed firmly where he’d put them. Trusting her to resist her obvious desire to touch him, Astarion focused on finishing the removal of his trousers and then hers thereafter before scooping her up into his arms.

He cradled her ass in his hands and backed her against a tree, kissing her again. She kissed him back, harder and more passionately this time, and he readily followed her lead for the moment as he felt her legs hook around his hips and draw him in toward her heat. He punished her mouth with his, cursing her warmth, her intoxicating scent, her beautiful body, her kindness, all of it straight to Avernus. She was far from his first warm body and yet she still felt like a first as he smoothed his hands over her thighs, unable to help the quiet growl that surfaced from his throat this time with her satin skin laid open and bare against his palms. He felt her shiver against him, her arms tightening around his shoulders as her back arched, pressing her body needily against his while they devoured each other as if starving.

This would get messy quickly if he didn’t check himself. He hadn’t promised an impassioned, tortured lover, after all, he’d promised the artful, cunning seducer. The patient wolf, the beguiling rake. Besides that, he couldn’t comprehend still how the first could even be happening. Astarion had warred with himself throughout every step of putting his plans for her, for them, into motion and yet it was all coming to a head with the delirium he found himself exposed to now. Everything he’d thought would resolve itself when he finally slept with her was just intensifying with each second that ticked by. As if to prove his point, she impatiently squirmed against him and he very nearly took her on the spot.

Astarion circled an arm around her waist, holding her still as he reached between her legs, finding her plenty hot and wet for him to get this wrapped up. The tiny moan that escaped her when he touched her went straight to his now rock-hard cock. Áine threatened his self-control in a way that terrified him. It was the polar opposite of the way Cazador’s power over him had terrified him, but it terrified him all the same. She made him feel as if he’d come apart from her slightest touch. A lack of control, to him, in any form was unwanted, and more frightening still was realizing that some part of him wanted her to render him helpless. It went against every single thing he’d sworn to himself during his imprisonment in the last two centuries and everything he’d sworn to himself since stepping off that Nautiloid.

Astarion took her down to the grass, allowing himself to memorize and savor her despite his fear of what she may be capable of with him. Áine met his gaze and a flash of consideration entered her beautifully lust-laden eyes before she tilted her head back and bared her neck for him. Astarion’s eyes flickered between her face and her neck, his throat beginning to burn with the rest of him as he weighed her offer if it was truly an offer.

As if answering his thoughts, Áine nodded and temptation won out. Astarion buried his face against her neck, running his tongue along her pulse before he bit her at the same time he positioned himself to slide into her warm, wet cunt.

The instant he did, any semblance of control he had, he lost.

Astarion maintained his clarity for the sake of not bleeding his lover dry, but the rest of his body acted with abandon. He found a rhythm between their hips, angling himself to pump against her inner walls that already clenched around him with every thrust. Swallowing the mouthful of blood he’d taken, he licked her wound closed and concentrated on his thrusts, gratified when her little moans became trembling, barely controlled mewls and her legs tightened around his hips.

Astarion was so focused on bringing her to her peak that he hardly realized he was reaching his for the first time with someone else. He could force his body into anything—he’d learned that without room for doubt over the years—and had sorted out how to perfectly fake an orgasm if needed. Not that the vast majority of those he bedded cared whether or not he came. It was something he was so unused to monitoring during sex that when it hit him, it hit him harder than he could’ve thought possible.

As Áine muffled a cry against the back of her hand, her body shaking under him as she came, Astarion suddenly felt himself go over the edge with her, gripping her tightly as pleasure ripped through him, a quavering groan that he just barely managed to bite down rising in his throat as he flooded her with his seed. They both shivered through aftershocks in each other’s arms, but through the mind-numbing euphoria, something else resurfaced in Astarion.

That guilt again. For ever thinking of this as a chore, like something he had to do to ensure his safety. For every time he’d squashed what he felt while touting their match as something real and normal and without deception. For setting Áine up to wind up with nothing but his broken, worthless, rotten soul at the finish line when he’d wordlessly promised so much more.

For not being able to give her something real, no matter how desperately he now realized he wanted to.

Next chapter: Chapter 11, "Old Scars"

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theinnerunderrain · 2 years

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Hewo!!! Can I have some childe x fem reader married life headcanons- I need to fulfill my fantasies-

Marriage [Yan!Childe x Fem!Reader]

Warnings: Yandere themes, infantilization, implied misogyny, mentions of sexual acts, marriage, manipulation.

Word count: 900+

Note: hi!! thank you for the request.

Despite being a reasonably strong warrior and a complicated individual overall, Childe would certainly make a great spouse and father given his desire to establish a family.

He is the kind of spouse who would assist you in trimming your fingernails while he rants about the potential appearance of your future children, giggling at the thought of trying to give the child a name from the combination of both of your names—which is obviously not going to work. He would certainly contemplated over your bloated stomach and visualize how supple your tits will be during the process of lactation.

"Would you rather the child have my hair or yours? I've heard that red hair is a recessive gene, so maybe the child will have yours? However, I wouldn't mind as long as the child is born looking exactly as lovely as you….which I am confident they will!"

Even if he has a hectic schedule, he would find a way to take a few days off and spend quality time with you, accompanying you everywhere you want to go. Even if you want to stay in and cuddle, he's fine with that. He might even read to you if you specifically request him to (well, he's probably good at reading considering he had to read for his siblings too). He is the type to cook for you as well since he is an excellent chef, but he wouldn't object if you cooked instead even if your abilities weren't as good as his.

It's cute watching you struggle, as you try to cook something, squealing at the way the hot oil would accidentally burst against your skin.

Even if it is utterly poisonous, he would nevertheless consume anything you provide but he's sure that the both of you are pass that stage.

Childe is absolutely the sort to lavish you with gifts, but not in the same manner as Pantalone does by using them as a negotiating chip to control you or further his own interests. The man actually enjoys giving you the most magnificent gifts; he always buys the things you might want but you're too bashful to ask for. He would still believe you are the most beautiful woman in the world regardless if you were dressed in the filthiest rag. But he wants you to be at ease, so buying the most luxurious silk and outfits is just his way of expressing his love language.

How nice of him, isn't that right?

Perhaps, though, he's also trying to gauge at how selfless you are. He understands that it's not a big deal given how modest and selfless you normally are, but every now and again he wishes you would demand more and behave more like a brat. Again, given that you were much more brattish when he first met you, perhaps it's just a shift in personality.

Childe can be fairly demanding when it comes to the sexual aspects of your marriage. While he won't directly demand you to do anything, he won't think twice about gaslighting to persuade you to carry out your responsibilities as a "wife." Basically making every justification under the sun, lamenting what a long day he had, and how he toiled so hard for you but you can't even suck him off?

"C'mon princess, I had such a long day. I would feel better if you…help me out a bit, please?"

How could you expect him to resist savouring his lovely wife, truly? He would almost fuck you every day if he could, making sure that you would cry and beg him to stuff his cock up your cute little hole. Don't be shocked if, while you're cooking, his hands accidentally slide down your hips to your ass. You have to consider that he's still a young man with a fairly strong pent-up sexual frustrations. Or perhaps you shouldn't be too startled if his fingers unintentionally brush up against your nipples while you're cuddling—you can't expect him to be sensitive when you're essentially wriggling in his lap, can you?

Don't worry; just anticipate your sexual life to be absolutely exhilarating and pleasurable (and be prepared to get fucked in unusual places). Childe values your enjoyment just as much! If he is incapable of even making his wife cum, what kind of a husband is he?

Surely not a worthy one.

Returning to more subdued headcanons, Childe is the kind of husband who will hold your hand through the cold months. He even has a tendency to unintentionally throw away all of your winter mittens; clearly, you wouldn't know it was intentional, but what good are his hands if he can't even hold yours? Regarding your independence, he wouldn't mind if you left the estate to go shopping or for a walk (as long as you were supervised by someone), but he isn't a big fan of having you hang out with your relatives or friends because they might have a negative impact on you (more like he's afraid they'll point out the flaws within your marriage).

You and Childe's marriage will be filled with surprises and maybe even tears, but maybe they'll be tears of joy rather than sadness. But don't worry too much—Childe is really a wonderful husband?

Right?

Just don't messed up too much.

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earthnashes · 11 months

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How do you keep up the motivation for working out? Or the planning of what exercises to do and go for? Asking cause I’ve been interested in weight training and tried it before but ya know- after 3 months, took a break, and now it’s hard to get back into it. Hope you don’t mind the questions! Congrats on your progress too!

I don't mind questions at all, no worries! :)

So I guess my answer to the question is to really evaluate why you're trying to get into weight training: What are your goals? Is it for the aesthetics? Is it because you wanna be strong, athletic? Is it a lifestyle you're willing to commit to?

I say ask yourself these questions and really evaluate what you want out of it, because I'll be honest: motivation is what got me started, but it isn't why I'm still at it. The bottom line to getting into weight training at any level in my opinion is to view it as a lifestyle commitment. Because it is; anyone can lift weights, for sure, but if you wanna make any meaningful progress in the gym you have to take it seriously.

As such, my one of my biggest tips in the motivation department: make weight training a non-negotiable component to your lifestyle. More than that, make your health a non-negotiable component to your lifestyle. Because fitness is a long game, one you will play for the rest of your life, so it must become a regular part of your life, however way you choose to make it so.

SO with all that said, some tips that could help you to stay consistent:

1.) Make a training plan. Figure out exactly what you're aiming for with your training program (are you training for strength or hypertrophy? Conditioning?), then select the training split (Fullbody | Upper Lower | Push Pull Legs | Bro Split) and exercises you're going to utilize to reach that goal (I recommend only selecting 4-6 exercises per workout. If you're doing more than that, unless you're an experienced and/or professional lifter, you're building unnecessary fatigue). Do your research here.

2.) Decide your training frequency. An extension to 1: once you've decided your training's purpose and the exercises that'll help you reach it, choose for how long this block will last. At minimum to see any sort of progress I recommend 4 weeks, but ideally something around 6-16 weeks for your training program to see substantial results is best. This is including the deloads (premeditated active rest periods), which is another thing entirely so I won't go into detail here.

Once you figure out how many weeks you're gonna go, plan how many days a week you're gonna go. Select specific days and times and treat it like it's mandatory. No matter how you're feeling or the weather or whatever, you're fuckin goin to that gym and getting the workout in. Be mindful of what your body is saying, but hold yourself accountable; don't make excuses.

3.) Have contingency plans. Let's say you've planned a training block for 5 days a week and you're going strong. But something at work comes up and it cuts your time much shorter. Instead of shrugging and going "Welp, can't go anymore I guess :/" try thinking "if I can't go 5 days, I'll go at least 4 days a week." Can't go 4 days? Go 3 days, so on. Backup plans for your backup plans. Learn to adapt to the challenges every day life brings you.

4.) Treat it like riding a bike. Weight training regardless of your goals is a long term game, and there are always gonna be ups and downs. There are gonna be times where it's hard to get back into it. Well, like falling off a bike, the best thing you can do to continue riding the bike is to get back on it. So get back on it. If you need to start slow again, then do it, because any step is still a step more than before. You'll gain momentum again, just give yourself some grace and patience.

5.) Trust the process. Because weight training is a long game, it's also a game of waiting. Visible progress is gonna take some time, so take inventory on other things to gauge it. Instead of looking at the scale or at the mirror, ask yourself how you feel. Do you feel more energized? How has your mood been lately? Do you feel a little more confident? Do you move easier? In the gym, are your numbers going up? Do the weights move easier? Do you feel focused and in the zone when in the pocket? Take inventory with yourself often and trust that you're making progress, even on days where it feels like you've stagnated.

----------

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand that's all I got! I hope that answers your questions! :)

#weightlifting #powerbuilding #earthsong talks #ash talks #fitness advice

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cosmic-herbal-tea · 4 months

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I’ve said this before but just to expand what I was saying earlier regarding Zatanna’s not necessarily being “de-aged” to be with Dick Grayson in YJ. In comics, Zatanna was moreover aged up to be closer to Batman.

Dependening on the stories, Zee starts off her heroism at 18-21. Sometimes she joins the JL after years of searching for her father or around the same time.

[Secret Origins v2 #27 - Recounted through Dr. Mist, who reveals being the mastermind behind her father & her upheavals in life by force via Felix Faust. In the story, he does realize how fucking creepy and patronizing his actions were.]

[ Justice League of America #51 - This story places her at 20 years old when she finally reunited with her father and joins the JL a short time later. But this story makes it seem like she was an orphan rather than raised by her father for a chunk of her childhood.]

[ DCU Heroes Secret Files & Origins #1 - This timeline would imply that she joined the JL first at 21.]

All these sources came prior to her history with Batman, which would naturally move her timeline to make her adjacent with him prior.

[Compared that to Dick, whom she met alongside the Titans in Tales of the Teen Titans #4 in the 1980s. By then, Dick was already college bound with high school graduation [Batman #217]or a teenager depending on your context, placing him roughly 16-18 give or take. This same series in which the picture above has him retire the Robin name in #39, which modern stories typically have that done at 18 years old.]

I think it’s very important to note that Zatanna’s character has changed overtime and that there’s no definite “Justice League generation” vs other generations of heroes. There’s not this neat little box where every DCU character conveniently fits in.

The Titans might fit in the “heroes in their 20s” box and the Teen Titans feature heroes younger than 18 but even then, some TT reached 18+ [Red Devil] and there’s been a plethora of heroes in their 20s in the JL [Kyle Rayner, Khalid Nassour, Ronnie Raymond/Jason Rusch]. Just like the JSA has younger members & successors who join, the JL features membership of varying ages.

[I literally forgot the source of this.]

I understand the basis makes it seem like Zatanna is infantalized but that’s not necessarily true. The character wasn’t always Bruce’s childhood friend and at one point, only met significantly in the JL to Batman’s own recollection. & one other time where she was disguised as a witch unknown to Bruce himself long before the retcon that made them childhood friends came to be.

It’s also hard to say “Zatanna has to be around this age bc she hangs out with so-and-so” because characters like Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman has had their histories altered in many ways. Barry Allen’s age has never been stated so using his interest in her as an age gauge is iffy and honestly, in real life, people have relationships, flirtations, and friendships with people older and younger than them. Part of adulthood is meshing with people & it’s not always convenient that you’ll be friends with people your own age. Interpersonal relationships are also multi-faceted and complex.

I also think it’s sets a bad precedent to not examine the character’s history and go off of the “idea” of where characters are instead of their history. Various DC characters already get this:

Billy Batson is always like 10 or 12 when people think of him but like he’s been 15 & 16 too. His relationship with Courtney Whitmore for example happened when he’s in high school himself. He is also chronologically older than Jon Kent regardless of space bullshit.

Raven & Beast Boy’s character get de-aged to the point they’ve been in Dick, Tim, and Damian’s version of the Teen Titans in media & comics.

Jaime Reyes remained eternally in high school until recently and it took a movie to budge him from that.

Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Caín are out here having Damian be closer to them in age because editorials, writers, and fanon completely forget both characters have been 18 far longer than anybody thinks.

Khalid Nassour debuted in 2015 already 23 years old & a year older than DICK GRAYSON IN THE SAME YEARS. Nowadays, he’s drawn as a teen/college age guy and his timeline either implies he’s in his 30s now or in 2023, all his 100+ appearances took place in ONE YEAR so therefore, everyone he interacted with also progressed one year overtime?

Long story short, it’s really important in my opinion to consider a character’s history and not just go off of whose their friend is, what you think their idealized version is like, and do not use the characters whose timeline DC & Didio has outright played Russian Roulette with accommodate their idealized version of the characters as a placeholder.

#dc comics #zatanna

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blackjackkent · 4 months

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Not a particularly challenging fight against the Zhentarim. I'm pretty sure we didn't lose a single Guild fighter! And the most satisfying part was watching Nine-Fingers take Roah from full health to zero in one turn by throwing knives at her. XD

The conversation with Nine-Fingers afterwards is a bit strained.

"The Zhent are down. Just you and me now, Stone Lord. So if you mean to take my chair, you'll get no better chance than this."

"Minsc has no interest in your furniture, Nine-Fingers - only in the wicked rump that fills it!"

Uh oh. It didn't occur to me that a dewormed Minsc might still dislike Nine-Fingers enough to attack her regardless. O.O;

"...What?" the Guildmaster says, bemused.

"You have been a stone in this city's boot for too long! And it will be no Stone Lord who reaches 'twixt Balduran's sticky toes to dislodge you. It will be Minsc!"

Nine-Fingers shoots Hector a baffled look. "I haven't got the slightest idea what he's trying to say."

"Proof that he is back to normal, no?" Jaheira murmurs dryly.

Hector reaches out and puts a hand gently on Minsc's arm. "Minsc. Calm down," he says quietly. "The battle is over."

Nine-Fingers tilts her head curiously. "So the hound answers to his name again, does he?" she says - and the words are more caustic than the tone, which is oddly soft. "And you didn't have to put him down. Good." Her eyes fix on Minsc. "I'd rather you die as Minsc the mad Rashemaar. It's silly, but - d'you know you were something of a hero of mine, when I was young?"

Minsc's eyes narrow in puzzlement. "Even now your tongue twists the truth," he says. "When you were young and ten-fingered still, Minsc and Boo were stone, enstatuated on a city square!"

She smiles, just a little sadly. "Aye. I remember the spot - by a garden on the Wide. A soft thicket near the market, with ample pockets to pick. Celestia itself to a street rat looking for shelter." She shrugs ruefully. "You might not have been wrestling monsters, but you kept the wind and the rain off. Heroic enough for me."

Minsc clicks his tongue and blinks a few times rapidly, visibly affected by this story. "Bah," he says fiercely. "You try to dampen Boo's eyes! Do not think you will be spared his teeth! Evil is evil, even if it once was... innocent..."

Keene shakes her head. "Oh, I'm no innocent," she says dryly. "But evil... You tell me. With the Fist, the watch, and the Council itself all licking the Absolute's boots, who's the only one left standing to protect Baldur's Gate?"

"She's right, Minsc," Jaheira says quietly from behind him. "She's been an ally down through the years." A pause; she looks at the younger woman thoughtfully and her lips twitch slightly. "A friend, even."

"A *friend*?" Minsc cries, appalled. "Jaheira, Boo cannot believe his ears! Has the city fallen so far in our absence? Are there no heroes left?"

"Heroes come and go," Nine-Fingers says bitterly. "But the Guild has always been here, protecting the city." She gives him a cool glance. "Until the Stone Lord came to break us."

Hector has listened to this all in silence, trying to gauge the thoughts going on under the surface. He can see Minsc wavering, uncertain, ready to be swayed by the arguments being made to him. And Hector, in fact, believes those arguments are right. However - in every such confrontation in the past, he has leaned in the direction of encouraging his friends to confidence in their own decisions, a holdover from the traditions in which he was raised, which placed such emphasis on self-reliance.

And this is no different - and in fact even more salient than usual. Minsc has struggled, since emerging from his stoney prison, with the idea of his own choices; his dependence on Jaheira's wisdom has been obvious from the get-go.

Hector thinks Minsc will make the right decision - but Minsc must be reminded that it is his decision, and not simply Jaheira's influence directing him.

[INSIGHT] "Well, ranger?" he says quietly. "You cannot always leave it up to your wychlaran. Make a choice."

Behind him, Jaheira makes a scoffing noise of irritation - but Hector did not use the word arbitrarily. He said it deliberately so that Minsc would countermand its usage and thus assert his own agency even while listening to his friends' guidance - and he is not disappointed.

"Heh. Jaheira says she is no wychlaran," Minsc says with a slight shake of his head. "Perhaps not. But if she says I should not honor, defend, and listen to her, it is the only time she has ever been wrong." He pauses uncertainly. "If she trusts in Nine-Fingers - if you do - then so will Minsc. But that means..."

He trails off, and an expression of pain rockets across his face. "The things Minsc has done... I am shamed! Nydeshka, unworthy to fight alongside my friends! Boo..." His voice breaks with sudden despair. "What am I do to do?"

"I can't speak for your rodent," Nine-Fingers says cautiously, "but I know something of debts. If you reckon you've got one to repay, well - we could always work together."

Minsc squints at her. "With you? Minsc has no lust for gold, that he would shake grandmothers by their ankles or set Boo nibbling at their purse-strings."

"I'm not talking about that," she says hastily. "We've both got bigger enemies than one another - the city's enemies. And Tyr's honest truth - you gave my Guild the wakeup call it needed. We've grown complacent, lazy. Too sure of our standing. We never would've needed the Zhent if we'd had a fighting force of our own. Swords for the city, when the watch and Fist fail us."

Minsc blinks, trying to parse this, and then his eyes light up. "Like a berserker lodge of my homeland! No army or militia, serving the local lords, but heroes working for the common good!"

Keene smiles sardonically. "Heroes. Sure."

"Very well," Minsc says eagerly. "Minsc and Boo accept!"

Keene must see something in the Rashemaar's expression that she doesn't like, because she immediately starts to backpedal. "I'm sorry, you-- you what?" she asks.

"Boo and I will be your berserker lodge," Minsc says brightly. "Taking the ugly ways of your Guild and beating them into a more virtuous shape!"

Hector can see the immediate regret blossoming in Nine-Fingers' eyes. "That's... not even slightly what I was saying. I wasn't asking--"

Minsc flinches back, not letting her finish. "You are right," he mutters. "I have proven myself unworthy. I cannot serve the city if I was so easily turned against it. If I do not know my own mind... perhaps I no longer know what is good..."

This conversation has grown so tangled that Hector is not even sure what outcome he is arguing for anymore. But Minsc's distrust of himself still troubles him more than anything else. "Minsc," he says gently, "I'm fairly sure that 'good' is literally the only thing you *do* know."

He's relieved to see Minsc relax a little. "My friend... I am touched by your kind words," he says gravely. "And now I must be equal to them." He squares his shoulders. "What say you, Boo? When the Absolute is slain, shall we join Nine-Fingers Keene and show her the ways of goodness?'

Keene groans. Jaheira grins suddenly, lounging back on her heels. "You did say he was your hero, Astele," she points out dryly. "Maybe you'll learn something."

Nine-Fingers sighs. "Can't we just go back to killing one another instead?" she asks dryly, then waves a hand dismissively before they can respond. "All right. Fine. Let's leave this particular fight for when the actual war is won, shall we?"

She straightens, hooks her hands behind her back and looks at Hector more seriously. "With the Stone Lord off my back, I'll be able to bring my people out of hiding. Cobble together a force so we're ready when you call on us."

She nods slowly. "You have my thanks." A pause, and then the flash of a grin, indomitable. "Though I'm still not actually sure you haven't made my life that little bit harder."

Probably true, Hector reflects with some amusement as they turn to leave. Should we all survive this mess, I suspect she and Minsc working together will make for quite a show.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle

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elorasaurus-gaming · 4 months

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So although I have a lot of artwork on the go for my vtubing and other personal projects, I haven't worked on stinky dragon stuffs in a few months and...

With no info as to whether Tales from the Stinky Dragon will be safe and continue I really want to do a "thank you" piece/combined community piece to all the individuals who have given life to this podcast (players, crew, literally anyone involved in any capacity regardless of how big or small a role)

Sort of a YCH insert kinda thing but with lots of characters and little inside jokes

I wanna show the impact the podcast has had on my mental health but also allow other to use the piece/base to spread the love as well

I'm sort of gauging interested atm?

What characters/items/jokes etc would you like to see included if I did this?

I'd make 3 bases maybe?

(Was thinking a laying in bed asleep listening to the podcast, a commute listening and another)

*edit to add (i also commented this too here)*

I don't think the staff use Tumblr as much as other socials so I'm trying to keep it on the down low as it could take a little while to finalise the base and gather everyone's versions thereafter ♡ so if this does go ahead please try to keep it secret and safe for the foreseeable future 💙🐉💨

#my art #fanart #ych #tftsd #TFTSD #tales from the stinky dragon #stinkyverse #stinky dragon fanart #stinky dragon adventures #stinky dragon pod #interest check #lemme know

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dr-futbol-blog · 7 hours

Text

Before I Sleep, Pt. 7

Weir approaches her older self to ask her about the time machine, and Sheppard steps to the side to look at Old Weir through the monitor in stark contrast to how, when McKay approached her earlier, Sheppard stepped forward in tandem and in unison with him.

Notice also how, even when Sheppard is behind Weir and looking at Old Weir over her shoulder, they are placed at the extreme opposite sides of the frame to emphasize the distance, their heads tilting away from one another where Sheppard and McKay's heads were tilted toward each other (Sheppard is also out of focus behind Weir even though he is the one speaking, also underlining the distance between them).

Here, we are not shown how close McKay is standing to Sheppard, it's left to the imagination. But it does not appear as though he has moved that much from his previous position. We see Sheppard at the very left of the frame from which we cut directly to McKay looking at him with what can only be described as an attempt at discerning what Sheppard is thinking right then. He is clearly trying to gauge the meaning behind Sheppard's words, the reason he's suddenly interested and asking the question. It's not the question as such that interests him (elsewhy he would be looking at her for the answer) but why Sheppard is asking it in the first place. This is the first time Sheppard engages the older woman:

Old Weir: The next thing I knew, I woke up here. Sheppard: You mean now? Old Weir: No. Then.

Point is, how ever intimate you interpret Sheppard and Weir to be at any point in this episode, we are shown that Sheppard and McKay are closer. In every sense of the word, they are closer, more intimate. They make it a point to both visually show and textually tell us this. They literally inserted McKay between them.

Old Weir tells them how the time machine in which she, Sheppard, and Zelenka jaunted into the past had crashed into the planet, and how she had been the only one the Ancients had fished out of the wreckage on the ocean floor, meaning that this other Sheppard had died 10,000 years in the past. Given Sheppard's jab at his death earlier, the motivation for which McKay probably didn't get, he just has to comment on that, going so far as to interrupt the 10,000 year old woman:

McKay: Ha! Ah, the bitter taste of ultimate failure, hm? Sheppard: Well, if you'd just figured out how to fix the damn shield in the first place, none of us would have died. McKay: I did everything I could, including valiantly attempting to save your sorry--

Ass. It was Sheppard's ass McKay had at the tip of his tongue.

And they are full-on role-playing with their alternate world characters, here. I'll draw your attention to the fact that Sheppard isn't only or even primarily upset about himself dying. He points out that none of them would have died, very much including McKay himself. It seems like McKay identified with his alternative counterpart much more than Sheppard does, and letting other people die on his watch is a lot more upsetting to him than some alternate dimension counterpart of himself getting killed doing something he was supposed to be doing anyway.

But as much as he knew just what button to push with McKay earlier, McKay also instinctively lands on his soft underbelly: being unable to save the people he cares about (regardless of what they are to each other at this time, McKay just doesn't realize that this very much includes himself, and that this man next to him cares about him a whole lot more than the other Sheppard cared about any of the people who died with the other Atlantis). He doesn't even do it on purpose, as McKay is basically just figuring out that turnabout is fair play and returning Sheppard's earlier sentiment. Just like in the hallway in front of Chaya's quarters in the previous episode, it's not McKay's intention or fault that he hits a nerve, there are things that he (and we, as the audience) don't know about John Sheppard yet, and he wants to keep it that way. All we know is that his black mark in Afghanistan had something to do with a failed attempt at saving people.

For the second time in this episode, Weir calls them 'gentlemen', referring to them as a unit, and begs them to focus on this very important thing that they are all meant to be doing. The frail old woman is telling them things that might be extremely significant down the line, after all.

The thing is, they were focusing. On each other. Entirely, one hundred percent on each other. Again, you can attribute this to "the game," if you wish. They are very competitive. They certainly are bickering... "or something," here. And Sheppard very much was preparing to get right up in McKay's grill about it. He throws out his shoulder, turning himself toward McKay.

Had Weir, who is clearly 100% done with their shenanigans, not put a pause to it, reminded them that there were, in fact, other people present, we might have learned where Sheppard got the idea that making out was the best way to "get it over with" with McKay, like he suggested to Zelenka in First Strike (S03E20)--and it's very much not a coincidence that they have that exchange when the city is submerged on the ocean floor where, here, we are told that Sheppard and Zelenka's bodies are buried on the ocean floor. It rhymes. It's a call-back.

Being scolded by the younger Weir in front of the old, Sheppard once more takes on the demeanor of an innocent school boy, releasing the defensive set of his crossed arms (and make note of the fact that his crossed arms are not directed at McKay, they are a barrier between him and Old Weir, him and the idea of creeping death) and clasping his hands behind his back... against the self-same ass just almost mentioned, as it were. The word was never spoken but the thought seems to have occurred to them both. Not the time, not the place. Where Sheppard changes his demeanor, McKay is frozen in place, his hand actually staying up right where it was, as though meaning to grab a hold of something. He looks at Sheppard, more interested by his reaction than the titillating story he just interrupted. He was fully prepared to continue with what ever was happening between the two of them here.

However you read this scene, fact is that it only takes one small comment from McKay to draw them both into a world of their own, to make each other the focal point and centre of the other's attention, like every moment they're merely looking for an excuse to shut off and tune out everything and everyone else. The ease with which it happens, how natural it is. And until Weir snaps them out of it, they don't even realize it's happening.

There's probably a reason the show has spent the several past episodes, most of the season, in fact, figuring out different ways in which they can keep the two of them separated, to keep them somehow, some way at a distance, on the intercom, unable to get to one another. Because as soon as they are in the same physical space, they are in proximity, they are drawn together, inevitably, like the light of a dying star approaching the event horizon as it is consumed. They have to come up with actual ways to keep them apart because their natural inclination is to come together like they are both one half of something naturally looking to be whole.

Old Weir tells them more about what happened to her in the past, meeting Janus and the Ancients, including the Atlantean council. Sheppard has a peculiar reaction to hearing about Janus being the one that had built the time machine:

Might be he's curious about someone who must have been the McKay of the Ancients.

It is interesting that the Ancients that Weir met in the past are very similar to the Replicators we later meet who, apparently, are very accurate copies of them. And still Sheppard was able to sense that they weren't real. He also looks as uncomfortable as ever when older Weir mentions the Wraith.

That is a guilt that's never going to go away. To his credit, McKay actually attempts (as he has done in the past) to ease Sheppard's burden by taking some of the blame, emphasizing the fact that they're in this together.

Old Weir: They told me of beings called Wraiths -- a vicious, formidable enemy whose power and technology rivalled their own. McKay: Yes. Actually, we've already--

However, Weir silences him with a look because it's more important right now to hear what she has to say. Being very weak, she passes out once more in the middle of her story only to wake up to this sight of Beckett explaining to them her condition (and McKay looks away for a while as he's listening to the explanation of her deteriorating physical condition, confirming again that he has watched someone die up close from a slowly progressing disease; also emphasizing the fact that Sheppard and McKay have to look away from the other when they don't want them reading something off of the other's face):

This other Weir knew her own Sheppard and McKay briefly 10,000 years ago and now has been watching these two for a few hours while falling asleep several times, and she still seems to have noticed that there's something going on between them. The audience is watching their backs from her perspective on the bed.

Here, again, they are angled toward each other, Sheppard with hands on hips and jutting out his... masculine display--and not for Beckett's benefit-- while McKay is again trying to read his thoughts from his expression. We (along with Old Weir) are looking at and listening to Beckett through the pair them. How close are they, I hear you ask?

Uh.

And again, they have to go around Beckett to get closer to her bed and Sheppard chooses to veer around him by stepping closer to McKay. We also now see Beckett standing behind Weir, and he's standing closer to her than Sheppard did previously. Whereas, now that he's standing behind McKay...

Compared to the earlier scene with Weir, they are both standing closer to each other and do not have their hands crossed as barriers between them. By their positioning, we are very much asked to contrast these things.

Also, younger Weir seems to catch on to the fact that her other self had clearly been vibing with Janus. There was a definite connection between the two and briefly as they knew each other, we see Weir kiss him on the cheek. And not only that, but she actually brings up Simon, Weir's lover back home, a while later.

The two Weirs get to have a moment to themselves as the next time she wakes up, it's McKay and Sheppard that have fallen asleep:

I refer you to my earlier entry about the Atlantean beds. McKay is able to sleep at a very narrow space, and Sheppard seems to need even less space as, as a soldier, he has trained himself to be able to catch some "Zs" wherever and whenever possible. We pan from McKay sleeping to Sheppard sleeping, the two of them sleeping together. and even in their goddamn sleep they are mirroring each other. "See anything better than our current quarters?" McKay asked Sheppard at the start of the episode. "It's not that big" Sheppard told him later. If they weren't talking about a more comfortable place to sleep in, they clearly should have. And, as we learn later (Broken Ties, S05E03) , McKay's quarters has a bath tub or an Ancient equivalent of a jacuzzi so it follows that they did find "something better than our current quarters" after (or during) this episode.

Notice also how, when Weir wakes Sheppard up, McKay is instantly roused like they're domino pieces and she knocked just the first one over but the other one fell from the same impact through contact.

McKay finds the paper with the gate addresses in his pocket and he immediately hands it over to Sheppard like it's a thing they need to be looking at together, and the two of them start excitedly working on puzzling it out as the older Weir passes away. Very sad, all around.

Next, we find Weir on the same balcony as we did at the start of the episode. The older Weir died on her birthday, so if she was having an existential moment in the beginning, now that she's scattering her own ashes into the ocean, her thoughts weigh even more heavily on her. And like she was in the beginning, she's joined by Sheppard.

This time, he's there to fetch her to the mission briefing, as they're all apparently revving up to go fetch some of the ZPMs that are supposed to be at the end of the rainbow road marked by the five gate addresses procured by the older Weir. She's not quite as excited as the others seem to be, or at least she's not there yet. As he turns to leave, Sheppard's eyes drop to the Athosian vase he gave Weir in the beginning of the episode which she has now turned into an urn.

Sheppard scratches his head as he leaves her, and this is probably a call-back to his earlier "I can't imagine how you must be feeling". He can sympathize, he can tell that this must be having a profound effect on her. But he can't read her thoughts from her face, and she actually has to spell it out for him that she's going to need a minute, here.

Yes, they care about each other, but everything in this episode is designed to lead us to the conclusion that even someone who's half-blind only has to see these two men around each other for a couple of moments to come to the conclusion that there is something going on between them, that there's some special bond they share. What ever the nature of that bond may be is up for anyone's interpretation. But, like. We see character after character come to the same exact conclusion about them.

It's deeper than words, my friend. Deeper than words.

#stargate atlantis #sga #sga meta #john sheppard #sheppard is bi #rodney mckay #rodney is gay #ep. before I sleep

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