#well if it makes you feel any better
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inhidingxoxo3637 · 2 years ago
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stemmmm · 5 days ago
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more people gotta try this shit where bill has not improved and will not change but he's just chilling so its fine probably. its great
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fridgrave2-0 · 2 months ago
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hehe ghost-turbo haunting felix au
turbo is connected to the last piece of his code in the whole arcade - a trophy he gifted to felix in mid 80s as a symbol of him genuinely caring about their relationships on par with being the best racer. felix also gave him one of his medals and both kept their gifts next to other rewards, but when roadblasters and turbotime were unplugged, the medal was gone with everything else
now, after burning in cola-lava turbo is basically dead, but scraps of his code still were intertwined with the trophy (after all, it was his first winner's cup, but felix never knew about it), giving turbo an opportunity to exist as a shadow incapable of interacting with anything and anyone besides felix, who kept the trophy even after the roadblasters incident
also I went crazy in tags, feel free to check them out
#turbo#turbotastic#fix it felix jr#80s boyfriends#hammertastic#headcanon about them exchanging their trophies isn't mine but i loved it A LOT#and “darling” is turbo making fun of how felix was calling him in 80s#this hc about “doll” and “darling” pet names also is not mine but i adore it#turbo here is a complete freak who just stays around felix most of the time even when felix has moments with calhoun#and felix is an ass who keeps secrets from everyone bc he doesn't want his dirt to come out#he's ashamed of his previous relationship with turbo and doesn't want anyone to know any details#and calhoun to just know about it#this just gets worse and worse#they also didn't actually break up and were still technically dating when turbo went gamejumping#and he's mad af at felix because he's the reason ppl in the acrade made a boogeyman out of turbo and he couldn't come back#like imagine your bf says to you what you are better than others think of you#and then behind your (presumably dead) back tells everyone that you're just an egocentric maniac#i believe turbo has other reasons why he gamejumped (besides jealousy which took place but wasn't the most important reason)#and felix is an unreliable narrator#so yeah turbo HATES his ass#(but still would-) no im not making it suggestive#anyway i hc that turbo had put A LOT of emotions in this relationship even tho he's bad at this#he tried his best with felix but they were just making each other worse#and turbo while feeling betrayed never really moved on (yes even after 25 years he's PATHETIC)#and felix is just full of regret about everything but he won't admit his mistakes in his relationship with turbo#bc “well he turned out to be a bad person so that automatically makes me in the right about everything”#but felix had made a lot of bad decisions while dating turbo and was just classically ignorant about a ton of things#sorry about this random ass essay in tags i'm done for now#wreck it ralph#wir
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nerdallwritey · 2 months ago
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Worth the Peril
Summary: In another life, Astarion would have made a decent barbarian. Despite Karlach’s cheerful demeanor, for the most part, barbarians were known to be violent, brutal, and cruel. All things that Astarion could easily tap into if the situation called for it. And right now, he was entering a rage. OR Upon arriving in the Underdark, you go down in a battle, leaving Astarion to pick up the pieces.
Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ (no smut) Word count: 15.1k CW: reader gets hurt - violence, severe injury, blood, descriptions of wound, depictions of pain, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, protective Astarion, blind with rage Astarion, soft Astarion, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), everyone else sees what Astarion can't Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.) Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 5 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find the masterlist here.
a/n: SHE'S HERE!! I am SO excited to be finally be posting the newest chapter of Beauty and the Bard! Thank you so much for your patience as I was sorting this one out. I've always been a huge fan of the hurt/comfort trope and the "Person A gets hurt and Person B loses it" trope, so this is my take on both of those tropes in one! Did I fudge the numbers of the Duergar fight in the Underdark from Act One? Yes. Did I fudge the numbers in terms of injury severity and what's actually possible through magical healing? Also yes! But in a world where a skeleton will bring you back from the dead for $200, OR, simply sleeping a full eight hours will heal you completely, I think I was able to make it make sense. Hopefully. Apologies to anyone working in the medical field who knows I'm a sham. But this is a series about smooching a vampire, so we gotta suspend our disbelief somewhere! There's no smut in this chapter, and for that, I apologize, but it'll make sense why it doesn't. If it helps, my beta says that this is her favorite chapter to date! Woo! Please enjoy. (Thank you to my beta @kermitwazowski for reading! - Also! She just got married! And a tiktok from it went viral! We love her, she's the best.) As a reminder, last time, you and Astarion had a little romp in the river while watching the sunrise.
Taglist: Moved to the comment section, since tumblr hates sharing fun with friends - please let me know if you'd like to be added to the list!
Barring a few dirty looks from Shadowheart and Lae’zel, your return to camp with Astarion - both of you now vaguely damp - was largely ignored in favor of packing up camp in preparation for venturing into the Underdark. So long as you were both there to help with the pack up efforts, it didn’t really matter where the two of you had spent your morning. 
Astarion squeezed your hand fondly before sauntering over to his tent to loiter and drag his feet until the camp was mostly all packed away. You knew his game; look busy without actually lifting a finger until it was absolutely necessary. You rolled your eyes before bending to gather and organize the loot in your tent. He was so annoying.
Gods, you hated him.
And you loved him.
Why, of all people, did you have to fall in love with the emotionally stunted, incredibly dramatic, freak weirdo vampire? Wyll was perfectly nice! Shadowheart had a good head on her shoulders! And yet…
Your eyes flicked over to his tent momentarily. 
He wasn’t even trying. He was fully looking at his nails. He looked up briefly and met your eye. He smirked before moving his hand to wave at you delicately with his fingertips. 
“Pack,” you called to him from across camp.
“What?” He cupped a hand to his ear as if he couldn’t hear you from the relatively short distance away. “You’ll have to speak up, darling! Or, better yet-”
He left his tent and made his way over to yours.
“Oooh, no,” you scolded and pointed towards his tent. “Get back over there and pack, you jackass.”
“Ouch, love,” Astarion squatted beside you. He looked around your tent at the trinkets you’d accumulated and picked one up, rotating it in his hands. A tiny statue of a mermaid, her face sculpted in midsong. “Heavy little bugger,” he said, testing its weight in his hands.
“It’s made of iron, I think,” you said. 
“And you’re going to make us lug it into the Underdark? Rather selfish of you, don’t you think?”
You snatched the figure out of his hands. “Can I help you with something, Astarion?”
He spread out his legs and leaned back against a chest you kept close-by. “Not particularly.” He rested his arms behind his head, very clearly trying to flex his arms to keep your attention on him.
You laughed and pushed him, making him fall sideways. “Stop trying to distract me and go pack your own stuff up. I will not help you when you’re inevitably scrambling later.”
“Yes, you will,” he said, using your shoulder to help himself stand up. He squeezed it once before heading back in the direction of his tent. 
“No, I won’t!” you called after him, but he turned and cupped his hand to his ear again, pretending he couldn’t hear you. You groaned loudly and continued packing. 
“Hate to say it, Soldier,” said Karlach, whose tent was set up between yours and Astarion’s, “but you probably will help him.”
You sighed heavily. “I know.”
~~~~~
It hadn’t been as bad as you thought.
You’d had the foresight to keep your belongings relatively close together, making use of the traveler’s chest you all shared. Once you’d gathered all your possessions and dismantled your tent, you placed everything you couldn’t carry on your person into the chest. Karlach had helped Halsin lift the trunk, full to the brim with everyone’s overflow, into an ox wagon that you all planned on taking with you to the ruined goblin camp and down into the Underdark below. Even Astarion had managed to gather most of his things before inevitably earning your help with a bat of his eyes.
It had taken maybe two hours total, but looking around the area that you had called home for the last few weeks, it was as if your party had never been there to begin with. It was a little sad to be leaving, but you were pleased with the progress you all had made and were ready to keep moving forward in order to get these damn worms out of your skulls.
The trek into the Underdark, meanwhile, was long and frustrating; Gale had to cast Feather Fall on half of your team, the ox cart, and Scratch and the Owlbear cub, while the other half of you used the deceptively long ladder down into the abandoned Selunite outpost below - much to Shadowheart’s dismay. 
Much to Astarion’s dismay, you’d actually stumbled upon a colony of Miconids after bumbling through a battle with a pair of minotaurs and looking for a place to rest. It was there that you spoke with the head of their colony, Sovereign Spaw, about eliminating a clan of Duergar dwarves threatening their population.
Which was how you now found yourself smugly walking beside Astarion as Gale and Shadowheart led the way towards the supposed Duergar hideout. The rest of your party had (begrudgingly, in the case of Lae’zel) agreed to help Halsin set up camp close to the Miconids and their beautiful glowing mushrooms, and had stayed behind.
“You must wipe that stupid expression off your face, darling,” Astarion rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Otherwise you might get stuck like that.”
“I told you they were real.” You waggled your eyebrows in victory.
“And their music was far less irritating than yours,” he teased. “So I suppose that was nice.”
“Bastard,” you muttered. “I’d love to play something with them when we get back.”
“You would.”
“Ass hat.”
“Loud mouth.”
“Would you two shut it?” Gale turned and quietly shouted. “We’re swiftly approaching the Duergar clan, according to Sovereign Spaw’s directions.”
“I still think we should have rested for the evening,” Astarion complained. “A specimen such as myself requires copious amounts of beauty sleep.”
You withheld a yawn, willing the vampire not to see it. You were still tired from your lack of sleep this morning, and your romp in the river. Not to mention the hike to get down here, and the minotaurs you’d already faced. You were able to get a short rest in at the colony, but you were definitely feeling it, and you didn’t want to worry your teammates. Plus you knew Astarion would never let you hear the end of it, given his protests about it earlier today.
“Enough, Astarion,” Shadowheart groaned. “You heard Spaw; the Duergar are a looming threat to their colony. We couldn’t risk a possible ambush in the night. Especially with all the refugees seeking shelter there.”
Astarion sighed. “And, I suppose I must admit, I like the sovereign’s approach. A little genocidal, but effective.”
“Yes, great, you’ll get your fill of blood, now would you hush!” Gale halted, causing the rest of you to stop, too. “Something’s wrong.”
You surveyed your surroundings. Wooden structures stood decaying all around, from bridges, to long forgotten buildings, and nets once used for ladders. It had probably been home to a village of people at one time.
“Looks abandoned,” you supplied.
Off in the distance you could make out a lake through some fog. Boats rocked gently against a worn looking dock, illuminated by purple crystals that populated the area. That must be the lake that Spaw had described. But wait… were those-? Lit torches?
You were about to take a step forward to investigate further, but Astarion held out an arm to block you. 
“I smell a trap,” he warned.
Suddenly an arrow shot past your ear and landed in a wooden post behind you.
“That’s quite a sense of smell you have,” Gale quipped, prepping a spell in his hands. “Think you could sniff out where that arrow came from?”
Your eyes frantically searched the area but couldn’t make anything out. 
“Duck!” Shadowheart shouted, as a flaming arrow seemed to appear out of thin air and hurdle towards your party. 
You hit the deck, lifting your head ever so slightly in the direction where the arrow came flying from. A figure appeared out of nowhere as you watched, taking a step to the side to hide behind a wall. That explained it.
“Our attackers are using an Invisibility spell,” you said quietly. “If we can get them to attack us, we can break the spell and see them clearly before they have the chance to cast it again.”
“Sounds fairly dangerous,” Gale muttered, holding a hand to his chin in thought.
“Do you have any better ideas?” Shadowheart whispered, pulling her shield and morning star off of her back. 
“Not really,” Gale said after thinking for a moment. 
Astarion, meanwhile, had already unsheathed his daggers. “Let’s spill some blood.” A wicked grin graced his features. 
“Let’s think about this for a second,” you said, holding out an arm to block him from getting up and feeling him deflate. You peered around the large rock that you and your companions had ducked behind. Platforms were littered throughout the decrepit village, perfect for you all to spread out. Quietly, you removed your lute and your backpack. 
“Now’s not really the time to serenade us with a sappy love song, dearest,” Astarion said, his eyes on your loose lute that he’d recently gifted you. 
“Shut up, and take this,” you said, handing him a scroll of Misty Step that you pulled out of your bag. You handed one to Shadowheart as well. “Gale, how are you doing on magic?”
Gale flexed his hands, the purple of the Weave sparking at his fingertips. “Good enough to take out a few dwarves, I’d say. But I have my crossbow if necessary.”
You nodded and turned to Shadowheart. “You?”
She nodded back at you. “I should have enough for some healing if anyone needs it, but I’ll stick to cantrips if I can.”
You nodded again, thinking deeply. “Okay, our magic is running kind of low, so we have to be smart about this.”
Astarion cleared his throat. “Aren’t you going to ask me about my magic, darling?”
Shadowheart laughed humorlessly. “Oh, please. As if you won’t rely entirely on those knives of yours.”
He scoffed. “I’ll have you know, I’m also very skilled with a bow.”
You sighed. “I’m sorry we couldn’t rest more before we had to do this.”
“The life of a hero is not an easy one,” Gale pointed out. “One cannot always put their feet up by the hearth when lives are at stake.”
“Speak for yourself,” Astarion rolled his eyes. 
“What’s the plan?” Shadowheart asked you. “We might want to hurry, given they know our location and we don’t know theirs.”
“I was thinking we all cast Misty Step,” you turned back around to look over the boulder and pointed to the various empty structures, “and land on those platforms.”
“Ah, the high ground! Very logical,” Gale nodded in approval.
“But do we want to be out in the open? They’ll shoot at us and we won’t have any cover.” Shadowheart raised a good point.
“I’ll cause a distraction,” you said, “no worries.”
Astarion clicked his tongue. “I hate the sound of that.”
“What do you mean?! I’m great at distractions!”
Rather than responding, Astarion hummed skeptically. Then he leaned forward to kiss you sweetly. “I’m going to go kill some dwarves now.” With that, he unfurled the scroll, recited “inveniam viam,” and you watched as he disappeared and reappeared on a platform hidden in darkness. You lost sight of him as he vanished into the shadows and turned back to face Gale and Shadowheart.
“Be smart with your magic, and be safe.” Both of them nodded wordlessly at you and prepared to cast Misty Step. You picked up your lute and stood up straight. “See you on the other side,” you winked and started descending down a hill towards your hidden enemies. 
Strumming a quiet tune, you created a Minor Illusion around yourself to look like a traveling musician, rather than an armored spellcaster. You slung your lute back around onto your back. 
“Sorry!” you called, holding your hands up above your head as if in surrender. You spotted an armored dwarf on a wooden walkway up ahead, currently visible, and walked towards him. “So sorry!”
“What?” The dwarf looked surprised by your unarmed approach. “Gehk! Got someone sneaking up on us!”
“No!” you assured. “My band mates and I,” you pointed your thumb over your shoulder towards the area where you’d been spotted with your companions, “we got a little turned around. See, we thought there might be a secluded place down here to practice for our upcoming gig, and well, we didn’t know you were already here, and-”
“Too loud, sun-scum,” came a voice from above you. You looked up to see another Duergar on a platform overhead. He wore an amulet of the Absolute and had a large battle axe strapped to his back. “Could hear you and your mates stumbling. Can hear you blinking.” 
“That seems unlikely,” you muttered. Your eyes wandered around, pretending to look for more dwarves in the area, but really checking to make sure your companions were in position. 
“Noise gets you eaten down here,” the dwarf with the amulet went on. “Reckon I’ll hush you before something hungry comes along.” 
“You’d hurt an unarmed musician?” You held your hands up higher.
The dwarf above you barked out a laugh. “Nice try, bard.” He spat the word. “Saw you lot from a mile away. Your little disguise is pitiful.”
Something seemed off. You felt a chill run down your spine as something brushed against you. The illusion of your plain clothes fell away, revealing your armor. You had a feeling your invisible foes had you surrounded. 
“Now,” said the dwarf, “where are your little friends hiding?”
You laughed. “I was just going to ask! Why would you all surround me when my little friends are over there?” You nodded your head towards one of the platforms.
The dwarf’s eyes widened as he spotted Shadowheart, whose hands were poised with a Firebolt spell. “They’re up there!” Before the dwarf could point, an arrow pierced through his shoulder from behind, knocking him forward off the platform. You sidestepped his falling body and made eye contact with Astarion who smirked down at you. 
“Attack!” The first dwarf you spoke to shouted, and all hell broke loose. 
Light surrounded you as Shadowheart cast Bless, and you were able to out-maneuver the dwarf who’d yelled as the light momentarily blinded him. Arrows flew towards Astarion, who’d been the first to shoot, and with those arrows, multiple dwarves’ Invisibility spells broke. Astarion was able to easily dodge and avoid the onslaught of attacks, thanks to the advantage of being on higher ground. You grabbed your lute and cast Shatter, causing the dwarves around you to fly backwards in a wave of thunder. Gale launched fiery arrows at your foes, and Shadowheart summoned a Spiritual Weapon to fight for you all on the ground below.
“You’re here because of those rotflowers, aren’t you?” The dwarf with the Absolute pendant got to his feet and pulled the arrow out of his shoulder. “You reek of justice and good deeds.”
“Funny,” you said, using the pommel of your rapier to push a now visible dwarf off the platform you were on, “and I just took a bath this morning.”
“Would you classify that as a bath?” Astarion called down to you, mischief in his eyes.
You smiled, but could already feel yourself starting to lose steam, even though the battle had just started. Still, you pressed on and cast another Shatter, scattering your enemies further and buying you some time to catch your breath. “And what would you classify it as?”
“I can think of many things, but we’re in such polite company, I shan’t say.” He shot a flaming arrow down onto the beach and hit multiple dwarves at once in the explosion. 
“I don’t like whatever’s happening here,” the dwarf with the Absolute amulet said. “But I’ll make you pay for siding with those mushroom abominations.” The dwarf raised his hands and uttered a spell you didn't recognize, but a cacophony of noise from below caught your attention. The lapse in focus cost you, as one of the dwarves you’d been fending off pushed you off the platform.
You heard your companions yell your name as you landed hard in the sand below. It took you a second to regain your bearings before you realized what the sound had been. Fallen Duergar were now rising, life not returning to their eyes, but risen all the same.
Animate Dead. 
You’d heard of this spell; had seen it in action with Mayrina’s husband, Connor. But you had yet to see it used in battle. 
Now you were surrounded by undead dwarves, hell bent on tearing you apart. 
“Hi,” was all you could manage through the spinning of your head. You blinked a few times before blocking the heavy strike of an axe with your slim rapier. When it was clear that the axe was going to prevail, you rolled out of the way and the axe connected with the sand that had been beneath your head. 
“Are you alright?” Shadowheart called after hitting you with a Healing Word. 
You squared your shoulders and entered into a fighting stance. “Better now, thanks!” While it was true, you were still exhausted and could feel your magic actively getting weaker. You’d have to remind yourself to get a sturdier sword after this battle. You heard a clang as Shadowheart’s Spiritual Weapon was destroyed by a few zombies that now turned their attention on you.
“Hardly the place, darling,” Astarion called, downing one of the zombies in front of you with an arrow of ice. “Dying down here? Embarrassing.”
“Stop talking and help her kill the bloody things!” Gale yelled, still slinging spells and arrows at the dwarves from up on the platforms. 
The undead kept rushing at you, and you were able to keep them at bay with brandishes of your rapier and weaker casts of Thunderwave, but it was getting harder and harder to fight back. Meanwhile, living dwarves had made it to the other platforms and started climbing up to your companions. Astarion’s help began to dwindle as his attention was split between you and the dwarves he had to face head on with his daggers. You could hear less and less of Gale’s magic as he opted fully for his crossbow, especially now with dwarves attempting to climb up to him. Shadowheart was facing the same obstacles, instead swinging her morningstar and shoving her shield to throw dwarves from the platform. 
“Guys,” you said, not as loudly as you would have hoped. There was too much going on. Even if you did manage to raise your voice, it would be hard to hear you over the sounds of fire arrows and spells. 
“Guys,” you tried again but to no avail. You cast a small Cure Wounds on yourself, but instantly regretted it. You could have saved that spell for an offensive attack, and now you felt yourself completely depleted of magic, despite trying your best to use it sparingly. Which was difficult when you were surrounded by enemies and your companions were occupied with their own battles. You were just one person. This was too much.
The undead dwarves still standing were backing you up against a cluster of boulders in the center of the beach. 
This was okay. You were fine! You’d been in tough spots before and you and your team had always come out on top. You could do this. Undead dwarves? Pah! What kind of lethal damage could someone with dead muscle inflict, right? Sure, Astarion was undead and he was a vicious killer, but that was Astarion, and these dwarves had just been resurrected. They were just getting their sea legs! Life…. legs? It didn’t matter. They probably couldn’t even think for themselves. You could handle this.
With a boost of confidence from your mental pep talk, you surged forward, away from the center of the beach, and stabbed a zombie through the chest. The visceral sound of metal entering flesh was loud and oddly satisfying.
“Ah ha!” you shouted as the zombie slumped to the ground. 
But the stab had been louder than your slim blade should have been able to muster. You pulled the blade out of the slumped zombie to inspect, but upon looking down, you saw silver glinting with red through your midsection. 
Another zombie had come up behind you and cleaved you with his axe. The head of it peaked out through your stomach.
You heard your name roared from somewhere up above.
The metallic taste of your own blood rushed into your mouth as your vision started to blur. You fell to your knees.
“Guys,” you said one more time.
Then everything went black.
~~~~~
In another life, Astarion would have made a decent barbarian. 
Despite Karlach’s cheerful demeanor, for the most part, barbarians were known to be violent, brutal, and cruel. All things that Astarion could easily tap into if the situation called for it.
And right now, he was entering a rage.
Red. 
That was all he saw. 
Red, and the corpses of the dwarves who dared cross his path on his way down to you.
He hadn’t witnessed it.
Had been too caught up in his own hacking and slashing to see the moment when the axe had made its way through your torso. But he had smelled it. Instantly, he had recognized the sweet notes of your blood entering the air. That’s when he’d looked down and saw the state of you. He’d screamed your name, far louder than any of the magic and explosions that were still triggering in the fight. 
Shadowheart and Gale’s heads snapped down to look at you, terror in their eyes. And yet they still had to fight. The zombies surrounding your unconscious form began to move away from you and up towards them instead. 
Astarion downed dwarves left and right, going overboard in his violence on the warpath to get you into his arms. 
“Shadowheart!” he yelled, as if she wasn’t already aware of the situation.
“I know!” she shouted back. “I can try a Healing Word but my magic’s nearly spent!”
“Do it! NOW!” Astarion bellowed as he sliced through the abdomen of a dwarf preparing to fire a spell. He heard a chant of “te curo,” followed by the aqua magic that usually came with a healing spell, but you remained motionless in the sand. 
“The wound is too deep and my magic isn’t strong enough!” Shadowheart slung her morning star into the head of a Duergar that had successfully climbed up to her platform. 
Gale looked over to Shadowheart and the two shared a brief, silent conversation before Gale nodded and Misty Stepped down to you.
“Don’t you touch her, wizard!” Astarion yelled as he fought his way through what once must have been a house of some kind. “Unless you can bring her back up!” His daggers stabbed through the Duergar with the Absolute amulet; the one who’d raised those dead in the first place. Astarion made sure his death was extra painful with each twist of his knives.
“Be reasonable, Astarion!” Gale yelled back and shot an arrow at one of the zombies still slinking across the beach. He bent and attempted to get you to swallow some healing potion. You’d already lost a lot of blood.
“She’s DYING!” Astarion bellowed before jumping down, out of the house, and down onto the beach. He made a sound of pain as he landed, but stumbled as quickly as he could over to you on his hands and knees. 
Before he reached you, however, he spotted an unarmed zombie halfway up a ladder. That must have been the vile creature whose blade was still lodged in you. He made a beeline for the abomination and pulled it down with enough force to rip the rope that made up the ladder it was climbing. His blades were entering the zombie repeatedly before he even realized he’d pinned it to the ground. It stopped moving fairly soon after its first stab wound, but Astarion wouldn’t let up.
“It’s dead, Astarion!” Gale said, trying to bring him back to reality. “Truly dead!”
Astarion finally stopped and breathed heavily. He abandoned the corpse and made his way over to you, sinking to his knees.
“You’re okay,” he cooed. “Help is here.” He gently pulled you into his lap, careful not to touch the axe head. “I’ve got you.”
“She’s still alive,” Gale confirmed. “I gave her some healing potion and checked her pulse.”
Astarion wasn’t listening. He rocked back and forth, wiping matted hair out of your face. “Darling,” he said quietly, “you’re too pretty to die. And look at all the precious blood you’ve wasted.” You shifted a little and he paused. 
Your eyes opened briefly. When you realized it was Astarion looking down at you, you smiled. 
“Hi,” you said weakly.
Astarion laughed, but it was a choked, mangled thing. “Hello, my love.”
“That hurt,” you said, smiling blearily until your eyes closed again. He brought his forehead lightly to yours.
Gale touched his shoulder. “Take her to Halsin. He’ll be able to help more than any of us at the moment.”
Astarion wanted to argue, but knew that Gale was probably right. Annoying bastard. 
“Help me, would you?” He made to stand up and Gale moved to help guide you gently into Astrion’s arms as he stood. The axe rested uncomfortably between the two of you, but Astarion knew better than to try and pull it out without the proper healing implements nearby to stop the bleeding. 
“We’ll be fine here,” Gale said, shooting another arrow at a dwarf on his way to Shadowheart. “You cleared most of the sorry mongrels just now, anyway.”
“I don’t recall asking,” Astarion snapped, readjusting how he was holding you. 
“Only trying to help,” Gale said sharply. “None of us want to see her suffer.”
Astarion sighed. “I know,” he admitted.
Gale placed a hand on his shoulder again. “Proprae,” he said, and warm magic surrounded Astarion. “Longstrider,” Gale explained. “It’ll get you to Halsin faster. Now go.”
Astarion nodded and took off back towards the Myconid colony.
“You just had to play hero, didn’t you?” He didn’t look down at you as he sidestepped purple crystals and wayward wooden planks. “Couldn’t stay back for once and let someone else handle it.”
You coughed a little and peered up at him. “I do it for the glory,” you wheezed with a joking smile.
Astarion’s eyes flicked to you for a second. “There are better ways to get attention, darling.” He smiled despite himself. “Now stop talking, please. Save that strength.”
Rather than argue further, you closed your eyes again and nuzzled your face into his neck. You were so tired. And cold. Numbness had overtaken your body except for a dull ache in your midsection. You didn’t even realize when you slipped away again.
Astarion felt you go slightly more limp and swore, dodging exploding mushrooms and trying to remember the way back to the Myconids. 
“Don’t you dare leave me,” he growled. “Not now. Not you.” He refused to shed a tear. You’d be okay, and then he’d have words with you about your pesky bleeding heart. 
Speaking of bleeding, he didn’t like how easily he could smell your blood. Usually he’d be thrilled to be surrounded by such an intoxicating aroma, but right now it was making him sick to his stomach. 
“Do you know how selfish you are?” he asked, knowing you wouldn’t respond. “Wasting all this blood. Some of us need a proper meal.”
He hated your silence. Hated that you weren’t strong enough to tell him he could feed from you if he wanted because of course you would. Or maybe you’d come up with some sort of jab about him being selfish for thinking about food at a time like this. He missed your voice.
“How dare you scare me like this, you stubborn clod.” 
In the distance, he saw the glowing mushrooms of the colony. He ducked his head and willed himself to run even faster. 
“Where are they?!” Astarion shouted to a mushroom sentry at the entrance. The Myconid remained stoic, but flashed a somber song through Astarion’s mind. “Not helpful!” he shouted as he ran up the steps.
There! That halfling woman who’d asked you all to find her bumbling husband.
“You!” he yelled, his eyes wild. “The group I was traveling with! Where did they go?!”
The halfling woman fumbled for words, shocked at the bloody sight of you before her.
“Tell me!” he exclaimed.
“I believe they found a clearing not far off. The druid came by earlier to swap herbs.”
Astarion didn’t respond before booking it again, the Myconids singing a mournful ballad to him as he passed them. 
“HALSIN!” he screamed when he left through the other entrance of the colony. “WYLL! KARLACH! LAE’ZEL! YOU BLASTED WHELPS, WHERE ARE YOU?!” He kept running, following along a path of glowing mushrooms.
“Astarion?” It was Wyll.
“WHERE ARE YOU?!” Astarion repeated, recalibrating to run towards the sound of his voice.
“OVER HERE!” Karlach shouted, and Astarion saw Scratch appear from around a corner a short distance away, followed closely by Karlach. Wyll and Lae’zel caught up behind them.
“Dear gods,” Wyll murmured before running into camp and creating a space for you. 
“I’ll get Halsin!” Karlach turned and ran.
“Kaincha,” Lae’zel breathed as Astarion passed her.
“Lay her here,” Wyll said, having prepped a bedroll next to the fire.
“Like hells is she going on the bloody ground,” Astarion hissed, looking around for something more comfortable. “Grab my pillows,” he nodded from Wyll to the ox cart. 
Wyll nodded and ran to the cart before coming back and beginning to fashion a makeshift mattress. 
Lae’zel looked around for Gale and Shadowheart. “Where are the others?”
“Damned Duergars. They’re in a rotting village by the lake southwest of here.”
“I shall avenge our fallen,” she nodded before running to her tent, grabbing her greatsword and taking off in the direction Astarion had come in from. 
“She’s not dead yet,” Astarion muttered as Halsin and Karlach entered the space frantically. “There you are!” He addressed Halsin icily. He had yet to put you down. 
Halsin ignored Astarion in favor of approaching you and assessing the damage. He held multiple bowls and jars of unknown substances, and his face gave nothing away. “Bring her this way,” he said, motioning for Astarion to follow him. Halsin led him to a giant mushroom cap. “Lay her down here.” He set down the materials he was holding nearby.
“On a damn mushroom? You must be joking.” Astarion held you tighter.
“Astarion,” Halsin said gently, “I’m going to help her. You have to trust me.”
Astarion narrowed his eyes and reassessed the mushroom. It did look soft, and big enough for your whole body to spread out on. He looked at Halsin again who remained calm and collected. Astarion nodded.
Halsin nodded back and helped him untangle you from his arms. “We’re going to lay her on her side,” he instructed, and Astarion did his best to roll you gently onto the mushroom cap. 
“How can we help?” Wyll asked, making Astarion jump. He’d forgotten about anyone outside of his current line of sight. 
“Fetch my pack, if you would, Wyll,” Halsin said. 
Wyll nodded and ran towards Halsin’s tent on the other side of camp. 
“And me?” Karlach asked. 
“Can you heat up some water?”
“You got it,” she said before rushing to grab a bucket.
Halsin held out his hand, golden magic emitting from his palm. He closed his eyes and hovered his hand up and down your body.
“Well?” Astarion asked impatiently. 
Halsin opened his eyes and Astarion caught a flash of panic in them.
No.
“We need to get this axe out as soon as possible,” Halsin explained. “She’s going to lose more blood, but you were right to leave it in on the battlefield.”
It was then that Wyll came back, lugging Halsin’s backpack, along with other supplies he deemed might be useful.
“So get it out and heal her!” Astarion exclaimed.
“I’ll do my best, Astarion, but you’ll have to be patient.” 
“Where’s Withers?” Astarion looked around but caught no glimpse of the skeleton.
“He said he’d find us once we’re settled,” Wyll reminded him kindly. 
“If we lose her and he can’t bring her back, I’m ending him.” Astarion knew how unlikely it was that he’d be able to kill someone who brought people back from the dead for a living (why Withers needed a living in the first place was still a mystery), but he needed someone to threaten. He was terrified. 
“Astarion,” Halsin said, “I’ll need you to help me remove her clothes. Wyll, can you prepare some bandages?”
Wyll nodded and began to gather materials from Halsin’s bag. 
Astarion hesitated before unsheathing his daggers to help cut the leather armor off of your body. Halsin helped maneuver your limbs out of it until you were left in what once was a white shirt, now a deep red around your midsection.
“Her shirt as well,” Halsin said. “Your skill with a knife is far more refined than mine.”
Astarion frowned, knowing you’d probably hate being shirtless in front of everyone, but shook off the thought in favor of helping Halsin heal you. He quickly and carefully cut your shirt away from your body, depositing it on another mushroom nearby, and leaving you in nothing but your undergarments. The gash in your back was brutal, and rather than stare at it, Astarion took your hand. It was growing cold, but he could sense your blood still pumping beneath your skin. 
“She’s so weak,” he murmured. 
“She’s a fighter,” Halsin put a hand on Astarion’s shoulder before moving to mix some sort of elixir he had in one of the bowls he’d brought over. “My magic isn’t strong enough to heal her all by itself, not completely, but Oak Father willing, she’ll make it through this.”
“She better,” Astarion growled, still holding your hand, squeezing it harder than he knew he should. 
Halsin smiled faintly, then moved around to your head. He tipped your head back and made you swallow the contents of the bowl he’d just been mixing.
“And what-”
“That should keep her from waking up right away.” Halsin came back to stand behind you and examined the state of the axe.
“So, she won’t feel any pain?” Astarion asked.
“She shouldn’t.”
“Okay,” was all Astarion could manage to say, hoping that was enough to convey his gratitude to the druid.
Halsin nodded and motioned for Astarion to hold you in place. “Wyll, can you help with this?”
“Of course,” Wyll moved around the mushroom to hold you from the other side. 
“I’m going to remove the axe,” Halsin said. “She’s going to bleed more, but I should be able to stop it with what I’ve brought with me.”
“Enough talking,” Astarion held you tight. “Get to the healing part already!”
Halsin frowned, but nodded. “Steady now,” he said, placing his hands on the wooden handle of the axe. “Ready?”
“Yes!” Astarion snapped.
Halsin let out a calming breath before pulling on the axe. Everyone held their breath to make sure you didn’t cry out in pain. When you didn’t, Halsin continued, taking the blade out in one smooth motion. 
As he’d said, you began bleeding more profusely and Astarion let out a pathetic whining sound. Halsin immediately held out his hands, aqua healing magic surrounding you from both sides. Astarion couldn’t look away as your skin knit itself back together, a clear scar forming in its wake.
The aqua magic faded and Halsin instantly dipped his hand in some sort of salve and began rubbing it along your back. 
“Wyll,” Halsin said, handing him a bowl with an identical salve. “Please cover the wound on her stomach with this.”
“I’ll do it,” Astarion said, moving around the mushroom to your front. Wyll handed him the salve and he went to work spreading a generous amount along your stomach. 
“Sorry,” said Karlach, running up with a steaming bucket of water. “I was looking for where we packed all our towels.” She held up a few. “I found them.” 
“Thank you, Karlach,” Halsin said. “We can start cleaning the area around her wounds.”
Karlach bounced on her feet. “Um… I’ll incinerate her if I try to help with that.”
“I know what you can do,” Astarion said flatly, focusing deeply on globbing enough salve onto your stomach. He lifted his head and nodded towards the axe on the ground behind Halsin. “You can destroy that wretched blade.”
Karlach smiled and cracked her knuckles. “I’ll make it wish it was never fucking born.”
“Blades aren’t born, Karlach,” Wyll said, wiping blood away from your skin with the warm water she provided.
“And yet, this one will die a fiery death,” she smirked, flaring her flames menacingly. She took off, presumably to be as hot as she pleased without endangering others.
“Can one of you help me sit her upright?” Halsin addressed the two men still tending to you.
“Sure,” Astarion said, noticeably calmer now that you weren’t actively bleeding. “How are her, um… her innards?”
Halsin smiled. “If you’re referring to internal bleeding, the potion I gave her and the spell I cast should be enough to have stopped it. But she’s still very fragile. I’d imagine it will take her some time to fully recover.” He once again held out his hand and cast a golden spell from his palm like he had earlier. “Yes, the internal bleeding has stopped. Though I’d suggest not giving into any carnal desires until she’s completely healed.”
“Carnal- I don’t want to have sex with her like this!” Astarion looked offended. “Who do you take me for?”
Halsin chuckled. “I didn’t think you would, but it still needed to be said.”
“Of all the-” Astarion narrowed his eyes but didn’t finish the thought. “You needed help getting her upright?” 
“Yes, she’ll need to be bandaged up. It’s possible she’ll bleed again depending on her movements in her sleep and various other factors, but she’ll also need to keep reapplying fresh salves to prevent infection and minimize scarring.”
Astarion nodded as Wyll finished washing away most of the blood on your back. 
“Let’s lie her on her back first,” Halsin said. 
Astarion and Wyll helped to gently roll you onto your back, and Halsin helped sit you up straight. Astarion came up quickly to place a gentle hand on your chest and another on your back to keep you upright as Halsin began to wrap bandages around your torso. 
Though your head was tipped forward in your unconscious state, Astarion whispered encouragements in your ear that Halsin and Wyll politely pretended not to hear.
“You’re going to be okay, my love. Soon I’ll get to look into your pretty eyes again and hear your lovely voice. Everything is going to be okay.”
~~~~~
Everything is going to be okay.
How could that be true when you were drowning?
Surrounded by inky blackness. Floating through nothingness.
Your limbs were heavy. And more than anything, you were tired. So, so tired. 
You’d messed up. You’d allowed yourself to fight, even though you knew you weren’t at your best, just because you didn’t want your friends to be upset. Right? They had been people you cared about? And now the last thing you remembered was being curled into someone’s side as they ran, presumably, to find help. 
Idiot.
You were an idiot. 
The person had looked so scared. 
This was all your fault. You hated being the one to cause a problem. You had to be good. You had to do everything right so no one would have to worry about you.
The person who’d held you so close and protectively shouldn’t have to worry about you. 
Whoever they were. 
You vaguely remembered saying something to them, but you couldn’t recall what it was or why you’d said it. You faintly remember making them snicker, at least.
You’re doing so well, darling. Hang in there.
It didn’t feel like you were doing so well. And yet the words filled you with comfort. Somewhere, a thousand miles away, you felt someone squeezing your hand. 
We’re going to move you now, but we’ll be gentle.
That was very kind of them. You were having trouble moving through this darkness. 
Easy, now. 
Was it possible to swim towards the voice? It sounded like it might be within reach, even though mere moments ago it had seemed incredibly distant and far-off.
You’ll be much more comfortable here, my love.
Though your head was filled with fog, something in your gut told you to go to the voice. You knew it was familiar, but you couldn’t make the connection. With all the strength you could muster, you kicked your legs as hard as you could and pulled yourself along with your arms. 
Don’t worry, my sweet, I’m not going anywhere.
Thank you, you wanted to say, but you couldn’t quite grasp the words.
Try as you might to swim towards the voice, it remained just out of reach, a wall of pain shooting through your abdomen whenever you got too close. 
I’m here, you tried to tell the voice. I can’t reach you.
Sleep now.
It hurts.
I’ll be here when you’re ready. 
Please.
~~~~~
Your sleep was fitful. It had taken about an hour before you’d started thrashing unconsciously and moaning in pain.
“Something’s wrong,” Astarion called, emerging from your tent. 
He and the others had moved you onto the makeshift mattress Wyll had created, and built your tent around you, next to Astarion’s. Or what would be Astarion’s; he had yet to set up his space, having spent all his time at camp so far by your side. 
Shadowheart, Gale, and Lae’zel had arrived at camp about half an hour after Astarion had rushed in with your unconscious form, all three covered in generous amounts of blood and gore. They had immediately asked after the state of you and were pleased to see you bandaged and sleeping soundly.
Now, however, that wasn’t the case.
Halsin and Shadowheart were quick to check on you. 
Shadowheart felt your forehead and frowned. “She’s burning up.”
“Likely fighting a possible infection,” Halsin hypothesized.
“Well, can anything be done?!” Astarion asked, taking his place next to you again and holding your hand in both of his. 
Halsin watched him carefully. “Actually, your cooling touch may bring her some comfort, Astarion.” He looked to Shadowheart, who nodded slowly.
“She needs to cool down. I’ll fetch some cold water, but Halsin is correct. You may be exactly what she needs. But don’t let that go to your head.”
“Of course I’m exactly what she needs,” Astarion puffed his chest, “but it’s nice to hear that that’s true in more ways than one.”
Shadowheart rolled her eyes before leaving and muttering, “Why do I even bother?”
Astarion looked to Halsin. “She’ll be okay?”
Halsin smiled softly. “She’ll need water and nutrients to help fight the fever, but with you by her side, I presume she’ll be better in no time.”
“Right then, get out of here,” Astarion said, waving him away and looking slightly embarrassed. 
Halsin chuckled. “I’ll prepare some food for her.”
“Yes, go bother someone else with your sappiness.”
Halsin paused in the entrance of your tent. “Being vulnerable is not a weakness, Astarion. It’s quite clear how much you love her, and that’s incredibly-.”
“You need to leave,” Astarion snapped and dropped your hand, physically shooing a laughing Halsin out of your tent. “Be useful, why don’t you?” he called after him coolly as Halsin made his way over to where Gale was preparing tonight’s meal. The vampire closed the flaps of your tent firmly.
Love?
He shook his head. He was worried about you, yes, but that was because he… cared about you. More than he cared about anyone else at this freakish camp. And that was… fine. It was fine that he cared about you because you cared about him, too. And that was important because caring meant safety and protection.
Which is why he’d been so panicked about finding help for you! Obviously! If you weren’t around to protect him, who would? Not Gale, that’s for sure. No, Astarion was looking out for you for purely selfish reasons.
Right?
You made a tiny sound of discomfort and he was by your side instantly, holding his hand to your forehead, and then pressing both of his palms to your cheeks. He felt your body sag and watched the features of your face relax a little.
“There, now,” he cooed. “Doesn’t that feel better?”
He paused and narrowed his eyes in thought. 
That was troubling.
He refused to think any deeper on the subject. Instead, he undid all the straps and clasps of his armor, trying to be as quiet as possible as he removed it all, then placed it outside so it wouldn’t take up any of your space. Next, he rearranged some extra pillows that Wyll had brought by your tent to make a space where he could lie next to you. Once he’d done that, he removed his undershirt and laid next to you properly.
“Come here, my darling,” he said quietly, snuggling himself into your side. His body jolted reflexively at how hot your torso was, but quickly moved back into position and wrapped his arms around you as gently as he could. Your face scrunched in discomfort for a moment before settling into something akin to peace.
Astarion watched your chest rise and fall quietly, and let out a silent sigh of relief. One of his hands absently fiddled with the ends of your hair. You’d need a bath at some point. So would he, for that matter. You were both still covered in gore and filth, and some strands of your hair were bound together by enemy blood. Astarion didn’t much feel like licking it off of you or tasting their blood in any capacity, unless he could watch the life drain from their eyes as he drank them dry. But he’d hate every minute of it. He found your taste to be his favorite.
His favorite.
So, you were his favorite. Who cared! He knew it! Everyone at camp knew it! It didn’t need to be any deeper than that.
He exhaled through his nose. Being vulnerable was a weakness. Any of his siblings would tell you that. Show one shred of fragility towards anything and it would be torn away from you and exploited in any number of violent and cruel ways. He couldn’t let that happen to you.
“Can I come in?” Shadowheart’s voice was quiet, but loud enough to shake Astarion from his thoughts.
“Yes,” he answered.
She pulled back the flaps of the tent and paused, taking in the scene before her.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said slowly, entering the tent with a bucket of water and a few clean cloths. 
“Not at all, I’m simply taking advantage of this furnace,” Astarion gestured up and down your body. “The Underdark gets so chilly at night. Who knew?”
“Uh huh,” Shadowheart nodded and felt your forehead before dipping a cloth into the water, wringing it out and placing it there. “You know,” she began, “and I hate saying this-”
“Do go on, then.”
“Ugh. I really hate saying this, but… she’s lucky to have you.”
“Shadowheart!” Astarion sounded quietly flabbergasted. “Do you mean it? Truly?” He was being overly dramatic and held a hand to his chest. 
Shadowheart avoided his gaze and dipped another cloth in the water. “I just mean…” She sighed. “I just mean, you make her happy, in your own annoying way. Even before you both started-”
“Holding hands?” Astarion batted his eyelashes.
Shadowheart rolled her eyes, but continued. “I don’t need to tell you how lucky you are to have her because I think you know that, but… You make her laugh. You encourage her to fight better, you steal lutes for her… And… you get her to be selfish. Which, while I don’t agree with all of your selfish suggestions, does cause her to think of herself every once in a while. Something that’s quite hard for her, as she so competently displayed for us today when she didn’t tell us how tired she truly was.” 
“She was a lost cause before I showed up.”
“Be serious for a moment, would you?” Shadowheart placed another cloth along your neck. “That’s something you both need to work on; being serious.” She held his gaze. “We almost lost her out there today. And I don’t think you’ve thought about what that would mean for you.”
“Of course I have,” Astarion snapped. 
Shadowheart raised her eyebrows. “Our Lady of Loss teaches that-”
“Oh, don’t start with that,” Astarion said sharply. “She’s fine now. Or she will be, assuming you and the druid are correct in your assessment of her condition.”
“Pain is a part of life, Astarion.”
“Don’t say that to me,” he snapped. “You know nothing of my pain.”
Shadowheart dabbed another cold cloth across your arm that wasn’t currently cradled into Astarion’s torso. “I know that. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then what did you mean?” He was aware that he was mildly flashing his fangs in warning.
She dabbed some cold water over your shoulders. “Don’t be afraid. That's all I mean.”
“And what the hells is that supposed to mean?” Astarion narrowed his eyes. “Afraid of what?”
“You care for her.” 
“So what?” 
“You’re aware of that?”
Astarion trilled his lips in disbelief. “Of course I’m aware of that.”
“Okay,” she turned her attention to wringing a cloth of excess water.
If his arms weren’t currently wrapped around you, Astarion would have pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shadowheart, if you’re trying to tell me something, just tell me.”
“You’re allowed to love her.”
Astarion felt himself recoil away from Shadowheart, but he still held onto you. 
Shadowheart nodded calmly, searching his eyes. “We all see it. You haven’t known each other for long, but she’s changing you.”
Astarion gave her a sour expression but didn’t say anything to argue.
“She’s not what you expected, is she?”
“She-” he hesitated. “She’s not.” He looked at your slumbering face fondly. 
“I don’t think she’s what any of us expected.”
Astarion nodded, quiet for a few moments. He was too tired to pretend he was uninterested. “It’s a wonder we all found her,” he brushed a stray hair from your face. “Or, rather, clung to her. And in some cases, attacked her. Or threatened to.”
“It is,” she laughed softly. 
“Poor girl.”
Shadowheart smiled. “She saved me, up on the Nautiloid. She and Lae’zel broke me out of my pod. Though it was mostly her. Actually, it was all her.”
“That’s typical.”
Shadowheart laughed. “Very typical.” She shifted to face Astarion more directly. “We don’t know each other very well.”
“No.”
“And probably never will.”
“Fingers crossed.”
“But I know that you’re not the same person who held a knife to her throat a few weeks ago.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well, I would.” Shadowheart gave him a piercing look. “A few weeks ago, you would have been fine letting her bleed out on that battlefield. You possibly would have laughed at the brutality of it. Or, you would have written it off as a fine dining experience. But the Astarion I’m looking at right now was ready to burn the entire world before he saw her suffer today.” 
Astarion’s grip on you tightened minutely.
Shadowheart sighed. “I don’t like letting others get too close to me either. Partly because that is the way of Lady Shar, and partly because I’m afraid of forgetting. Or remembering. I’m not sure which is worse, truthfully.”
“What does that-”
“It doesn’t matter. My point is, our leader here makes me want to remember. Remember our times together, her kindness… And how she makes me feel.” 
“Careful…” Astarion said slowly, narrowing his eyes but smiling slightly.
“She might be the only person I’ve ever considered to be a true friend. I think. But I know she’d do anything for any of us. And I want to remember that.”
“Okay, so commit it to memory?” Astarion was confused about all the talk of remembering. Surely Shadowheart’s memory wasn’t that bad.
“I’ll try,” she chuckled. Then, after a moment of quiet, she inhaled deeply. “All of this to say, Astarion,” she looked him in the eye again, “heartbreak is also a part of life. And while we’re lucky she’s still with us, you shouldn’t be afraid to love her. I think you want to live.”
~~~~~
Darkness.
All consuming and quiet.
But at least the pain had stopped. 
It was rather lonely here. Nothing to do and no one to talk to. Whenever you tried to move, the blackness that surrounded you gave little away as to whether you were actually moving or not. There’d been waves of extreme heat, bitter cold, and heavy nausea, and while none of that was particularly thrilling, it was nice to know that you could still feel something in this liminal space of sensory deprivation.
The voice would occasionally interrupt the profound silence to address you.
Come on, my sweet, eat just a little more. I know you can.
What are you dreaming about in there?
Are you going to wake up anytime soon, darling?
You didn’t know. No matter what you tried, it didn’t seem likely that you were close to leaving this place. And just when it felt like you were finally getting somewhere, the pain would overtake you again and stop you in your tracks. 
It was exhausting.
You felt someone squeeze your hand distantly.
Brought a book. 
Your head instinctively turned towards the voice.
Thought I might read to you. Since you’re doing an abhorrent job of entertaining me.
Something about the tone made you want to argue. You try… whatever this is! you wanted to say.
Thought this one might be fun. “The Curse of the Vampyre.” Maybe we’ll learn something.
Vampire… why did that word send your heart racing?
“Harken close and beware the Vampyr.” Off to a good start. “Beware its cold beauty.” True. “Beware its charm.” True. “Beware its curse.” ………True.  
Again, you had the overwhelming sensation that you knew this voice. The sense of comfort that washed over you felt all too familiar.
“How doth one protect from the beast?” When was this written? A pause, as if the voice were investigating. I’ve decided I don’t care. The voice cleared its throat. “Walk not in the blackest night, for the Vampyr loves these nights more than any other.” I was rather enjoying my time in the sun, actually. “If you must walk, do so by the light of our moon and take care.” What kind of advice is that? The moon? The moon and I get on just fine. That wouldn’t protect you, darling. “Carry the blessings and marks of your God at all times.” The voice snorted. Yes, because the Gods have cared so much about stopping my acts of debauchery in the past.
Something in the voice’s airy tone lifted an aching weight from your chest. Yes, you knew this person. You were sure of that. You could listen to them all day. Mindlessly, you drifted closer to where the voice was strongest.
“But remember, your home is your fortress, if protected well.” Hmm. “If you hear a knock in the night, be wary. Let no stranger into your home.” As if we make house calls these days. “If it be a friend, look upon them. Do you find them pallid and wan?” Rude. “See you any mark upon their neck?” Collars, darling. Though, I’ve found that most people don’t pay close enough attention anyway. Especially when you’re distracting them with- Well, you know. The voice exhaled loudly. “See you any dirt upon their clothes?” Yuck. “Unless their need is great, turn all away but the most trusted.” You trust me, don’t you, my dear?
Yes, you tried to say. Of course I trust you. 
The voice was growing louder. More clear.
Of course you do, the voice said, though you were sure it hadn’t heard you. Stupid. “And if the Beast finds a way into your home, flee.” I’d say that’s good advice, but unfortunately for you, you can’t really flee right now. And I don’t plan on leaving.
Good. You exhaled, frustrated that you couldn’t speak. 
The hand holding yours tightened mildly. 
I’m here, darling.
I know. Thank you.
It took a moment before the voice started speaking again.
“Lease love and family behind.” 
You felt an indescribable tension as the voice paused once more. Had this passage just said something important? You replayed the phrase in your head.
Family?
Love?
Love…
Oh.
The voice was quieter when it spoke again. 
“You will not save them if you fight. You will not see them again. But they will see you, pale and smiling, calling them into the night.”
Astarion. 
Of course it was Astarion. How could it be anyone else?
He was here. 
With you. 
Just out of reach.
Well, that’s a rather ominous passage, isn’t it?
Astarion! you tried to say. I’m here!
Shh shh shh, he tutted. Don’t strain yourself.
Something you had said or done had gotten through to him.
Astarion! you tried again.
Nothing. You were met with silence. 
Fuck it. Fuck the pain, fuck this freakish darkness. You pulled yourself towards his voice. 
Shall I continue reading, darling?
Yes, keep talking. You winced as a flash of pain pulsed through your middle.
I’m going to skip ahead. I hope you don’t mind.
As long as I can still hear your voice. The pain was becoming more consistent and noticeable.
Ah, this sounds rather interesting: “Vampiric Duality.” Ahem. “Now look, the thing is: your basic vampire has two instincts, right? Feed and make little vampires.” Immediately, a vastly different tone. Is this even the same book? The voice paused again, presumably to check the cover. I admit, I do love to feed, but I’m not sure how much this person knows about vampiric biology. Not that Cazador ever allowed us much research into the subject…
You felt yourself physically recoil at the mention of Cazador’s name and heard Astarion chuckle.
No, you’re right, darling, I won’t mention him again. He hummed and mumbled under his breath. Blah blah blah… “The personality of a vampire has as many facets as a schizophrenic diamond?” What? I appreciate the comparison to a diamond, obviously, but a schizophrenic one? What does that even mean?
You would have laughed if you weren’t actively fighting to get to him. The pain in your torso was almost unbearable, the closer you got to his voice. Tears pricked your eyes, and every part of you hurt like nothing you’d ever experienced before. When the torment started to become white hot and all consuming, you hit what felt like a physical wall.
Ah! Listen to this part, beautiful: “Yet who doesn't adore the darkly romantic complexity of the vampire-”
You did. You adored this vampire. Though you were hurting severely, you reached out and punched against the wall that was blocking you.
Astarion! you all but wailed.
“-the gusto of their love-”
Again, you pounded with all your might, screaming out in agony and rage as the pain physically held you back from reaching out and touching him. You still couldn’t see him, but you felt his presence. So, so close.
“-the wildness of their passion!” You heard him let out a delighted laugh. 
I’m here! you shouted, using both fists to bang against this wall of pure suffering. 
Oh, my dear, if you were awake, I’d shower you with the absolute wildness of my passion. You could practically hear his smirk. I’d demonstrate the gusto of my… well. My-
Gathering all the strength you had left, you wound back and threw your entire body against the wall. You squeezed your eyes tight as an overwhelmingly bright light spilled in and your ears began to ring.
You gasped for air, sitting up quickly, and immediately regretted it.
You heard your name said softly in disbelief and a book slamming shut.
“Ow…” you whined, clutching at your abdomen and feeling tears roll down your cheeks.
Before you could register what was happening, you felt cool palms on your cheeks and soft lips kissing all over your face. You blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the situation. 
“I’m so mad at you,” Astarion said, still kissing your face, his voice filled with nothing but relief.
“What… happened?” you asked between hiccups of tears.
“Lie back down, precious,” he said, gently helping you back onto what seemed to be a pile of pillows and pulling a blanket over you. “You scared us, is what you did.” He wiped a few stray tears from your cheeks, but they kept flowing. You couldn’t stop. 
“Did I… die?” You turned your head to look around. It looked like you were in your tent, your things strewn about somewhat neatly and similar to how it had been at your camp by the lake. A few candles were lit. 
“Nearly,” Astarion confirmed quietly. He looked exhausted. “An undead Duergar got you with his battle axe.”
“Ah,” you said, at a loss for words. “That’s not good.”
Astarion stared at you. “‘That’s not good?’ That’s all you have to say?” He held a hand to your forehead briefly. “Your fever is gone, but it’s possible you’ve got brain damage.”
You chuckled, knowing he was kidding, but the action caused a searing pain in your stomach. You let out a pathetic whine, reaching for the hurt area, but Astarion caught your wrist. 
“Careful, darling. You’ve got a pretty severe wound there.” He released you and pulled back the blanket that was draped over you. Upon looking down, you saw that nearly your entire midsection was covered in bandages. A spot of red spread slowly, disrupting the otherwise pristine white of the cotton.
“It h-urts,” you sniffled, your voice breaking. 
Astarion’s eyes were full of sympathy. “Looks like sitting up quickly may have opened the wound again.”
“Should I go get Shadowheart?” you asked without really thinking about it.
Astarion snorted. “If you think you’re strong enough to fetch the cleric, you’re delusional.”
“Oh,” was all you could say in agreement. “Should you go get Shadowheart? Or Halsin, maybe?”
He shook his head, turning away from you to rifle through some supplies that were out of your line of sight. “Everyone’s asleep, my dear.” He sat back up straight and set out a few items next to you: fresh bandages, healing potions, a salve of some sort, and a small bowl of water. “Besides, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of you myself.”
You almost laughed. “How long was I out? What happened to you?”
He rolled his eyes. “You were out for nearly twelve hours, I’d say. It’s a little before dawn, I think. Though there’s no sun to go off of.”
You nodded, not sure how to feel about this information. Twelve hours was a long time. And yet it felt even longer. Like you’d been out for a lifetime. 
“As for what happened to me, well, someone I… care about… nearly died.” He cleared his throat. “Is it so bizarre that I want her to get better?”
You smiled. “I guess not.”
Astarion returned your smile before hooking his arms under yours and helping you sit up. Someone had stacked two chests on top of each other behind the makeshift mattress to act as a headboard, and he helped you scoot back to sit against it. 
“Careful, my sweet, the axe entered through your back. Let’s try not to lean and put pressure on it, hmm?”
You nodded, wincing when you moved incorrectly. “When did you become such a medical professional?”
He was busy prepping the new bandages. “Shadowheart showed me how to change the bandages once or twice while you were out, and Halsin provided the salves and potions.” Astarion got up onto his knees and crawled over to you, helping you scoot forward, away from the headboard. “And my sister, Dal. She was a doctor, before Cazador. She’d help the rest of us every once in a while. Especially when things got particularly brutal.”
“That’s much cooler than being a magistrate,” you teased, flinching a little in pain.
“I don’t know, magistrates can sentence people to death.” He squeezed your arm.
“No they can’t,” you laughed. Then paused. “Can they?”
Astarion shrugged. “Can’t remember, honestly.” He leaned forward to reach for where the bandage was tucked into itself on your front. “I’m going to undo this now, okay? Let me know if I hurt you at all.”
You nodded, holding his gaze.
“Oh,” he said before turning to grab a healing potion. He handed it to you. “This should help.”
You took it and downed it as Astarion began to carefully unwrap the bandages. You could feel the unpleasant sting of something having dried beneath the cloth that was now being tugged at as the bandage was unraveling. 
Astarion was nothing but complete focus as he reached his arms around you and back towards himself, carefully unwrapping you. You watched him the entire time. 
“I heard you, you know.”
He looked at you, the corner of his lips quirking up. “Heard me what?”
“When you were talking to me while I was sleeping.”
He went a little stiff at your words. “What exactly did you hear?”
You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. I heard you reading just now.”
His shoulders dropped in relief. “Horrid creatures, vampires.”
“The worst,” you agreed. 
Astarion pulled away the last of the bandage and you looked down, your eyes widening at the huge gash along the right side of your stomach. 
“And we’re sure I didn’t die?” you asked, cautiously poking the area around the wound. The healing potion had stopped the bleeding.
Astarion slapped your hand. “Stop that.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re still here with us. I would have killed Withers if that weren’t the case.”
“You can’t-”
“I know. But he would have gotten an earful at least.” Astarion crawled on his knees back over to the supply area that you previously couldn’t see. Now you could see that there were a few buckets of water with towels and cloths of various sizes. He dunked his hands into one of the buckets and lathered his hands with soap. 
“Thorough,” you commented.
“You already fought off one infection,” he explained. “Don’t want to risk another.” He finished washing and drying his hands, then made his way back over to you on his knees, careful not to touch anything on his way.
“I had an infection?” you asked, watching as he dipped a cloth in the small bowl of water next to you. 
“Yes,” he said, “or were fighting one off. Like I said earlier, you had a fever, but it’s gone now.” He brought the cloth up to your stomach. “I’m going to clean the wound now. It might hurt.”
You nodded and he began dabbing your skin lightly. He was right, it stung and pierced whenever he hit a particularly raw area and your body jerked despite attempting to stay still. Tears welled up in your eyes again.
“I’m sorry,” Astarion said, reaching up to wipe a tear away. 
“I’m the one who got cleaved,” you deflected. “It’s my own fault.”
“Which reminds me,” his face morphed from apologetic to irritated, “why didn’t you tell us you were so exhausted? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I-” you squeaked at a particularly sharp pain. “I didn’t want you all to worry.”
Astarion’s hand paused and he narrowed his eyes at you. “Fine load of good that did, dear.”
“I’m sorry,” you looked away from him. “I didn’t know how involved the fight was going to be.”
“It doesn’t matter how involved the fight was or wasn’t going to be; if you weren’t feeling your best, you should have stayed behind and let one of the others take your place.” He sniffed pompously and added, “Would have given me an excuse to relax, too.” There was a sharpness to his words, but his actions remained careful and kind. You gave him a curious look and he rolled his eyes. “Oh, like I would go out and fight when I could laze about at camp for once.” He was suddenly very focused on not looking you in the eye.
You smiled. “You liiiiike me.”
“I’d have spent the entire time on the other side of camp.”
“Liar.” 
“The point is, darling, you have to listen to yourself and what you need. I do it all the time. For myself, I mean.”
“I know you do,” you chuckled. 
Astarion set down the wet cloth he was using and got a fresh one, before moving behind you to clean the wound on your back.“Why do you even care what we think?”
“Because you’re my friends, and I value your opinions?”
“No, I mean, why aren’t we allowed to be worried about you?”
“Oh,” you winced and flinched a bit at the cloth pressing against a tender spot on your back. “I don’t know. You all have your own problems to worry about. I shouldn’t be one of them.”
Astarion tsked. “I might be new to this whole ‘caring about someone else’ thing, but even I know how absurd that is.”
You tried to stay quiet, focusing on not moving to minimize the pricklings of pain shooting through your back. Yet despite your best effort, you still let out a few weak whimpers of discomfort.
Astarion sighed and moved away from you, back to the caché of supplies at the end of your bed. He came up with a steaming bowl of stew and reached across the bed to hand it to you.
“Careful,” he warned.
“How?” you asked.
“Halsin made soup. Gale knew a spell to keep it warm. This is the result.” He handed you a spoon. “We were able to get you to eat some while you were unconscious, but Shadowheart said you should eat properly whenever you woke up. I forgot until just now.”
“Thank you,” you said gratefully, shoveling some of the stew into your mouth. It was rich and heavy; full of meat and vegetables. Delicious.
Astarion took his place behind you again and went back to cleaning, but not before sighing dramatically. “Playing nursemaid is so far beneath me. I can’t believe you’re making me do this, you wretch.”
You swallowed some broth then said, “I offered to get Shadowheart.”
“Not a chance,” he growled in your ear, leaning around to kiss your cheek. “But if I ever have to do this again-”
“You’ll kill me?”
“Without a second thought, my sweet.”
“Mmhm,” you hummed through more food. “I think you’re enjoying this, honestly.”
“Seriously? When I could be out killing something? Or drinking from that gorgeous neck of yours? Or thoroughly ruining you? Nice try.”
“Are you hungry?” you asked, suddenly feeling very guilty for not thinking of him.
“This is what I mean, darling.” He sounded annoyed.
“What?”
“You are very weak at the moment. You lost quite a bit of blood from this wound, and you’re still offering to feed me.” 
“Because I want to help you! I have something you need and I lo-like you so much.” You caught yourself, but not very smoothly. 
Astarion raised an eyebrow. “Flattered as I am, I know that drinking from you right now could be fatal. And I think you know that, too.”
You shoveled some more stew into your mouth shamefully.
“That’s all I mean, pet.” Astarion set down the cloth he’d been using to clean your back and moved around so he could look you in the eye again. “You’re incredible. You always want to help others, which, while I don’t personally understand it, is seen as very admirable to some people. But it gets you into trouble, and I don’t think you care that it does.” He took your chin in his hand to make you look at him. “But I care now. And I don’t want this to happen again.”
“I can’t help it,” you said quietly. 
Astarion pouted mildly with genuine sympathy and kissed you chastely. “Try.” He pressed his forehead to yours.
“Okay,” you whispered.
“That’s my girl,” he smiled. “Besides,” his flamboyant cadence returned to make you laugh, “I already drained some poor beastie dry earlier while Shadowheart was changing your bandages.”
“Poor beastie.”
He kissed you again, more deeply this time. “It meant nothing to me,” he teased and you laughed. “It was purely for sustenance.” He nosed along your neck to his favorite feeding spot and kissed you there.
“I may never find forgiveness in my heart for this,” you teased back.
Astarion’s eyes went noticeably soft and a small smile tugged at his lips. His hands came up to your cheeks and he kissed you once more, tugging at your bottom lip with his front teeth. You matched his rhythm, moaning softly, and unconsciously rolling your hips, which made you cry out in pain.
“Bad idea,” you groaned, tilting your head away from Astarion’s eager kisses. 
He chuckled and rested his forehead on your temple. “You know, Halsin actually warned me not to ‘give in to any carnal desires’ until you were fully healed. I told him I wouldn’t.”
“And yet you did anyway?” you raised an eyebrow with a smile. “You selfish prick.”
Astarion tsked. “I’m not the needy one rolling my hips, now am I?”
“You bit my lip!”
“Call it… a vampiric sign of affection. Nothing more than that.”
You blew out an annoyed huff, causing a strand of hair in your face to fly upwards.
“I didn’t even draw blood,” Astarion said. “You should be thanking me.”
“Oh, thank you,” you rolled your eyes.
“But of course.”
“I so badly want to strangle you right now.”
Astarion growled from the back of his throat. “Oh, how I’ve missed you,” he said, kissing you again, despite your laughing protests.
“Would you please finish with this?” you asked, pushing him back and gesturing the undressed wound on your stomach. 
He groaned loudly. “If I must.”
“I can handle the front,” you said, nodding towards a bowl of salve, but not attempting to lean forward and grab it for fear of accidentally hurting yourself further.
Astarion hesitated in giving you the bowl, but quickly gave in. “Fine.”
“I’ll be careful,” you said.
He nodded once and took his own bowl of salve to spread on your back. 
The balm was cool and caused you to jump a little when it first made contact with your skin. Astarion paused his work to make sure you were alright. 
“I’m okay,” you assured. “Just cold.”
“You get used to it,” he smirked, globbing more cold substance onto your back.
Delicately, you took your own salve and began to apply a generous amount to your stomach. 
The two of you remained silent, locked in concentration as you administered the medicine to your wounds. It stung mildly, but the cooling effect it had became comforting soon enough. 
“So…” you broke the silence after you were satisfied with your work, “what did you do while I was… out?” 
Astarion exhaled through his nose and didn’t answer right away. “Oh, nothing special. A little of this, a little of that. My world doesn’t revolve around you, you know.”
“Sad,” you pouted, “because while I was unconscious, all I could hear was your voice.”
“Could you, now?” You could hear the grin in his voice. “I was all you could hear?”
“Mmhm,” you confirmed. “Which means you must have spent a lot of time by my side.” You risked a glance over your shoulder and saw Astarion’s hand hovering just above your back, frozen in place. 
He cleared his throat and continued to apply the salve. “And so what if I did?”
“Well, it’s just that there’s so much else you could have been doing,” you chuckled. “Like killing, or maiming, or drinking, or stabbing-”
You stopped talking when you felt his forehead press against your bare shoulder. He mumbled something against your skin, but you couldn’t make it out.
“What was that, my love?”
He sighed heavily and pulled back. “I was scared.”
“You… were scared? You?”
“Of course I was scared!” he exclaimed, looking irritated and confused. “I may already be dead, but it’s not your time yet. I would never wish that on you.”
You weren’t sure how to process that. 
Astarion.
Scared, on your behalf.
You knew he cared about you, that was obvious by now, he’d told you as much, but that was a fairly recent development. In the past, he’d only cared enough to save his own skin. He’d always watched your back, sure, but there were days where you knew he’d only helped you or another companion because it had been convenient for him in some way. Although, you had to admit, since you two had become… whatever you were, he’d seemed to take extra precaution when looking out for you. Both in battle and out.
“Astarion,” you said slowly when he returned from behind you to grab the fresh bandages, “what happened when the zombies got me?”
He remained quiet, fiddling with the bandages in his hands. 
“I carried you here.”
“Where is ‘here,’ exactly?” you asked.
He shrugged. “Not too far from those horrid singing mushrooms. They were no help.”
Your eyes went wide, knowing how far the journey from the Myconid colony to the decrepit village was, and how he must have traveled further than that to get here. You shook your head, banishing the thought. “How did you get to me from your platform?”
Astarion came close and unwound the bandages in his hands again, making sure he had the right amount. “I may or may not have… gone into a blind rage, killed some dwarves, yelled at Gale… It was no big deal.”
“And then you… carried me.”
“Yes.”
“All the way here.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“And then I helped Halsin with healing you. Why does it matter?”
“You…” You trailed off and allowed Astarion to start wrapping the bandages around your middle. Your eyes were unfocused on something in the distance and your mind was blank; too overwhelmed with thoughts to think anything at all. You shook your head to bring yourself back into the moment with him.
His voice was quiet. “I’ve been powerless far too often in my life. Seeing you go down, and not being able to stop it, it… broke something in me.”
You watched him carefully.
“If I was powerless in that situation, and you… If I’d lost you, I don’t know what I would have done.”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t lose me then,” you said, attempting to lift the mood while focusing on his hands.
He shook his head and paused with the wrapping. “Shadowheart said I was ready to burn the world. I think she was right.”
“I’m touched,” you joked again.
“I’m serious, darling.” He picked up where he left off with the bandages.
“You were that worried about me? Even though you were also surrounded by enemies?”
“Oh, believe me, I’m not pleased about this turn of events. Normally, in a setting like that, I’d be mostly worried about myself. But lately I seem to somehow be worried about you more.” He hummed as if he were surprised to hear himself say that aloud. 
You brought a hand up to gently wrap around his forearm as he continued wrapping you up. He met your eye fondly.
“You give me something to care for. And that’s worth the peril.” He smiled at you for a moment, then pulled on the bandages to make sure they were tight enough. “Is this alright?”
Try as you might to not let him see, your eyes welled up with tears. “Fine, yes.”
“Oh gods, don’t lie, you’re crying!” He immediately began to loosen the bandages and you started laughing.
“No, no, dummy,” you wiped a tear and stopped his hands with your own. “I care about you, too.” 
“We’ve established that, darling,” but his eyes went soft. “Let me finish this, you sap,” he gestured to your bandages, still not properly secured, and you released his hands. He once again returned to wrapping the wound and pulled the bandages tighter, but not as tight as before. They were firm enough that they wouldn’t fall, and you could still breath easily, despite the mild ache that lingered in your stomach. He tucked the end into the top of the wrapping beneath your chest. “There now, my sweet. All patched up.” He brushed both hands through your hair before resting them gently on your shoulders.
You smiled at him, but something occurred to you upon hearing the affectionate nickname. “Is there a reason you haven’t called me ‘my love’ since I woke up?”
Astarion looked taken aback. “Erm…”
You were quick to explain: “It’s my favorite. That’s why I call you that, too.”
“Your favorite…” Astarion stared at you blankly for a second and his hands squeezed your shoulders absently.
You could practically see the cogs in his head turning. You brought a hand to cup his cheek. “If I did something-”
Astarion shook his head. “No, darling, you did nothing wrong. Other than almost getting yourself killed, I mean. It’s just that… I’m in the process of coming to terms with how I feel - about you.”
Oh.
Oh.
He’d thrown “love” and “my love” around so casually, practically the entire time you’d known him. Abruptly stopping their use was incredibly unlikely unless it was deliberate.
Did this mean he was starting to rethink those words? And what it meant to say them to you?
Did that mean he… loved you?
Your heart started pounding as a million jumbled thoughts entered your mind. It seemed like Astarion noticed the change in your pulse.
“If that scares you-”
“No!” You were grinning widely and tried to hide it behind your free hand. “Take all the time you need, my love.” You hoped calling him by your preferred pet name might convey how you felt, but you didn’t want to scare him off. You knew better than anyone how new this was to both of you.
“Thank you,” he said, taking your hand and kissing the inside of your wrist. “Now lie down, would you? You need more sleep.”
You handed him your now empty bowl of stew. “But… I’m not tired.”
Astarion gave you a look as if to say really?
“I’m not! I’ve been sleeping all day!”
“And for good reason, might I add.”
The two of you stared at each other, willing the other to give in. Astarion rolled his eyes.
“Fine,” he said, annoyed. He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.
“Carnal desires,” you reminded him in a scolding manner.
“I don’t plan on ravishing you right now, dearest,” he said, a bit of bite in his words. “If you’re not going to sleep, at least lie down with me.”
He moved the medical supplies off of the makeshift bed and blew out a few candles as he awaited your answer.
You nodded, a smile overtaking your features. “I’d like that.”
“I’ll be gentle,” he said as he got onto the pile of pillows and placed his knees on either side of your hips. He took your arms and wrapped them around his neck.
“I know,” you said, using him as an anchor to lower yourself onto your back and further into the pillows.
When he was satisfied with your position, Astarion carefully lifted himself from hovering above you and transitioned himself to curl into your side. You stayed on your back so as to not jostle your wound, but turned your head to look at him. He watched you intently, his hands palm-to-palm and resting under his cheek. You ran your hand through his hair. 
“I couldn’t reach you,” you said.
“When?” Astarion lifted his head slightly.
“When I was sleeping. I could hear you, but I couldn’t see you. And it hurt to try and get to you.”
“Oh, my darling,” he said, running a hand along your cheek. “I’m here now.”
“I know,” you repeated, warmth overtaking your chest.
“Nervous it’ll happen again if you sleep?” he asked. When you nodded, he nodded back in understanding. “Nightmares are dreadful.”
“Any tips?”
“Hmm… not really.”
“Thanks.”
Astarion laughed softly and reached for your hand. “I’ll stay awake with you for as long as you need.”
“You need your rest, too.”
He clicked his tongue. “If you think I’m going out with the others tomorrow, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”
You exhaled an amused breath and turned your head back up towards the top of your tent to sort through some of your many tangled thoughts.
While it was true that you and Astarion hadn’t known each other for very long, it floored you how much of a change you saw in him now versus when you’d first met. Back then, he was cruel, and violent, and prone to laughing at the misfortune of others. Now, he was still all of those things, but there was also this soft side of him that he continued to surprise you with. He’d actively chosen to stay by your side all day, even though he could have let the others handle your care. He probably would have opted for that option just a few weeks ago. He was also making the choice to stay at camp with you tomorrow, rather than venture out with the rest of your party to be rewarded by the Myconids for your efforts, and possibly spill more blood throughout the Underdark. Knowing how much he loved to spill blood, that was a big deal. 
He’d also shown you the most tender affection the first night you’d slept together and every heated encounter since; he was showing he cared in the ways he knew how. He was trying his best (for the most part), and that’s what mattered to you. Astarion could take all the time he needed to sort out his feelings.
But you knew how you felt.
“So other than the peril, are you enjoying the Underdark?”
Astarion groaned. “Really?”
“Yes.”
He let out a long exhale, the cool air of his breath tickling your neck. “You know, for all the time I spent lurking in the shadows, I’ve never ventured into the Underdark before.”
“So you’ve told me,” you squeezed his hand.
“Hardly a… luxurious setting, but it definitely has its upsides for a vampire.” 
You nodded, still looking up at the top of your tent. 
“Or its… undersides? Because it’s - you know what I mean.”
You snorted at his feeble attempt at a pun. “Boooo,” you teased and looked over at him.
“I’ve been awake for nearly 24 hours, need I remind you.”
“Then trance, idiot.” You poked his nose.
“I said I would stay awake with you.”
“I’ll be alright,” you insisted, “though I appreciate the offer, my love.”
Astarion blinked slowly, his eyes suddenly heavy with sleep. It was as if he were finally allowing himself to relax, now that he was able to hear your voice again. He wore a lopsided grin as his eyes drifted closed. 
“I really did miss you,” he murmured, his voice soft.
“I missed you, too.” You brought your clasped hands up to your mouth and kissed the back of his hand. “Thank you for saving me.”
He didn’t properly respond, and instead hummed out a sleepy acknowledgement. 
“You’re so heroic.”
“Mmm.”
“And handsome.”
“Mhm.” He inhaled and exhaled deeply.
“Thank you for staying by my side.”
This time he didn’t respond. He looked entirely peaceful and his lips were parted slightly.
“Maybe I spoke too soon,” you laughed quietly, brushing a loose hair out of his face. “You should sleep though,” you said more to yourself than to him. “I can’t imagine how tired you must be.”
You watched his chest rise and fall with the unnecessary breaths he still took after all these years. You couldn’t believe that mere moments ago, he’d admitted that he was beginning to care more for your safety than for his own. Much less that he might even love you.
Astarion made a small sound, like a tiny grunt from the back of his throat that you’d come to learn meant that he was likely out cold. He rarely fell asleep before you did, given how little rest elves needed, which only further showed how exhausted he truly was.
“I love that noise,” you smiled. 
You turned your head back up to the top of your tent and sighed. “I love how funny you are. And I love how even though you’re incredibly intelligent, you’re the dumbest man I’ve ever met.” You looked back at him. His slumbering expression remained unchanged. “I love your eyes, and your ears, and the annoying way you put your hand on your hip when you think you’ve gained the upper hand in something.” You squeezed his hand ever so slightly and watched to make sure his features stayed even. “I love how kind you pretend you aren’t and how fiercely you deny it when I bring it up. I love your laugh, and how gently you hold me when you feed, and how you think about me when you could so easily think of yourself instead.” 
Again, you brought his hand up to your mouth and kissed his fingers.
“I love you, Astarion.”
You couldn’t be sure, but you swore you could see the slightest smile on his face as you felt your eyes flutter closed and you drifted into your own contented sleep.
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an-ivy-covered-summer · 4 months ago
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i know this will be a controversial statement for some people on this website, but you guys need to understand that being a radical communist with zero awareness of the nuance of living on planet earth is really not very different from being an alt-right extremist.
if you’re past the point of using logical thinking and understanding that societies and politics are complex and can be wildly different from one place to another, you’re just a fanatic, in spite of the place in the spectrum you place yourself on. you’re too swayed and brainwashed by propaganda. you’re just a blind fanatic, and your agenda becomes dangerous for real people living in the real world.
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ahaura · 8 months ago
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im sure its been said already but as the election draws near more and more liberals will come out of the woodwork to shame people with a conscience to give away their vote to the democrats for free. i'm already seeing posts saying "why aren't people more concerned about a trump presidency?" you want to know why? it's because people already know he's bad. everyone already knows what he is and what he's done and what he'll do. there's nothing to discuss. he's a racist despotic worm of a man. there's nothing else to say.
biden is currently president. the genocide is happening under his watch. he's the one funding isra*l and arming them; he's sidestepped congress more than once to give them weapons. by oct. 27, the biden administration already knew that "Israel was regularly bombing buildings without solid intelligence that they were legitimate military targets." the state department/biden have engaged in atrocity propaganda, cast doubt on the legitimacy of the death toll recorded by the gaza health ministry, and so on. the united states is currently in the process of trying to pin the "war in gaza" on netanyahu (see sen. schumer's speech) after months of backing blatant genocide as a means to act as if they're "doing something" about the genocide (Instead of, say, threatening to cut off all aid to israel with the condition that all hostilities in gaza, the west bank, and occupied jerusalem are halted immediately and permanently, allowing palestinians freedom to travel, allowing aid into gaza, etc etc etc.)
the long and short of it is that liberals view their own lives as being worth more than palestinians'. that's it. they'll vote for another 4 years of the guy ushering in genocide and supporting apartheid + settler colonialism because he isn't outright attacking them (despite various laws and rulings happening both at the supreme court level and at the local level all over the country that will endanger people). they'll settle for the illusion of safety and security and shame anyone with a conscience and accuse them of "supporting the republicans" when in an actual democracy you would be able to use your vote as leverage to extract concessions from those who want to be elected. that's how it's supposed to fucking work.
democrats are not owed people's vote. if biden loses, it will be biden's fault; it will be his campaign's fault; it will be the democrats' fault. trump is bad; the republicans are bad. we already know this. this is not an endorsement of either. but if democrats are too cowardly and feckless and servile to the motivations of the american empire and never do anything for their constituents then why the fuck should anyone vote for them. you want to get mad at someone, why don't you do something useful and stop worrying about team-sports with a purely selfish basis and start hounding the people in power who are supposed to serve you, the voter.
#i think i already said this and frankly idc#uspol#📁.zip#to me personally it's abhorrent and vile to tell palestinians 'biden is facilitating the murder of your people culture and history but you#still have to vote for him!!1' like how is that not unbelievably callous and ghoulish#frankly speaking. a lot of this 'you should be concerned about trump' is going to turn into#blaming palestinians and arabs and muslims and anyone remotely with a conscience for biden's loss#instead of doing something productive like pushing for people in power to do something they'll nitpick and belittle#and tell palestinians + arabs and muslims + everyone who understands that genocide is bad that they SHOULD#settle for a decrepit genocidal monstrous freak who is CURRENTLY facilitating genocide because#it makes THEM feel better and they aren't personally threatened (yet) by the guy currently in power#any and all 'you're not taking trump seriously' comments should be met with extreme skepticism#because i promise i PROMISE that the vast majority of people unhappy with biden are not going to turn around and vote for trump#and if they do? well guess what THAT'S BIDEN'S FAULT! nevermind the vote uncommitted campaign that was very successful and#will be replicated in the near future. but liberals only care about asthetics and superficial and not#about real material change which is why they'll dress up their callousness and racism in a 'you hate gay people if you dont vote for biden'#like this country is already going to shit we are rapidly descending into fascism and i dont see biden doing anything to even remotely#challenge it do you???? once agian. NOT an endorsement of the republican party but my GOD when the 'lesser evil'#is DOING the evil or normalizing the evil then you cannot settle for 'the lesser'! end of story.
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committingcrimes-2047 · 24 hours ago
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PLEASE HELP ME
ATTENTION VANDER X READER FANFIC WRITERS!!!
I need to have reader save vander. I need reader to save the day what remains of their family- and then them leaving Piltover together on a ship and never coming back, and yes Vi brings her girlfriend along too I dont care
(The ship thing totally doesnt come from my oc being a pirate or anything- pirates are cool as shit let me live)
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caeslxys · 4 months ago
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Something I think is extremely interesting thematically when it comes to connecting what Downfall and the ideas it tackled to the overarching narrative of campaign three is that the things Downfall made a point to showcase of Aeor—Cassida, Hallis, the visual of an aeormaton proposing to her partner, the specific and intentional decision to shed light on a far from insignificant amount of the population being civilians or refugees—is that it plays in perfect parallel across from what is happening (and, really, has been happening) to the ruidusborn on Exandria in present.
Bear with me for a moment. Aeor is ultimately a city that was collectively punished for the decisions of its leadership. We could (and, judging by the amount of discourse around this particular topic already, probably will) argue about what the Gods’ motivation for all of this was—whether it be that they could not, in the end, bear to kill their siblings or that they were terrified at the prospect of mortality—for me it is a very healthy dose of both—but for this I am much more interested in the latter. They were scared. That, really, is the driving force behind both this arc and their role in c3 as a whole.
Why I point this out is: It is far more interesting to me, especially as we go back to Bells Hells this week, to dissect the Gods and their decisions not purely on sympathetic motivation alone but as beings in the highest seat of power in the highest social class in Exandria.
So, having established that the Gods (in relation to mortals) are more a higher social class than anything we could compare to our real life understanding of divinity and that Aeor was eviscerated largely because of their fear—what is the difference between those innocents in Aeor caught in the trappings of their autocratic government leadership and a divine war on the ground, and those of the ruidusborn being manipulated both by Ludinus and by the very thing that inspired such visceral fear in the Gods to start with. I would argue very little.
I think of Cassida, doing what she genuinely thought was right and good and would save people, her son, and the object of her worship—and how that did not matter enough to any of them to spare her because of the fear they held at the very concept of mortality. I think of Liliana and Imogen, one of which we know begged for the gods to help her or send her a sign for years on years, and how every single one of their largest struggles could have been avoided had the gods loved them, their supposed children, as much as they feared what they could be. I think of how the thing that did save Imogen, in the end, was a woman who herself existed in direct defiance of the gods will. I think of that young boy, sixteen years old, that Laudna exalted on Ruidus.
I think it’s completely fair to judge Aeor’s overall society as deeply corrupt—it was!—but its leadership and police force are not a reflection of every one of its citizens. Similarly, it is fair to judge the Ruby Vanguard as corrupt—it is!—but its multiple heads of leadership and even the god-eater further are not a reflection of every one of its members.
Notably, and what I think the Hells will latch onto, this did not matter to the Gods. It did not matter that Cassida was trying to help. She was still too much of a risk. Will it matter, what Imogen does? Will it matter, if that young boy is in the blast radius when they decide to take no further chances?
I’ve seen a lot of people say that the Hells will side with the gods and I don’t think I agree. Especially as Imogen has been scolded and villainized over and over for daring to try and save her mother—who herself has been seen by some as an irredeemable evil in spite of her drive being the exact same—her family—but when it’s the Gods it’s justified? When it’s the Gods, it’s sympathetic? Too sympathetic to criticize further than “they’re family”?
I obviously do not think the Gods should die or be eaten or what have you, and I certainly don’t agree with Ludinus (though I find him much more compelling than just a variation of hubris wizard), but when talking about the Gods in Aeor and in present it isn’t really at all about their motivation or their family. It can’t be. Too many people, including our active protagonists, lives have been effected for it to be as cut and dry as “they’re family”. These are your children. They are your family, too.
#critical role#cr meta#cr spoilers#critical role spoilers#imogen temult#liliana temult#ludinus da'leth#does this make sense. I feel like i lost my initial thread somewhere around the middle bc my brain is currently spread very thin#but tldr: it is extremely interesting to me that the fall of aeor is such a perfect parallel to the ruidusborn#i could also go on endlessly ENDLESSLY about how cassida and liliana play the exact same role#and also i could go on even longer on what divinity as a concept even means in a world like exandria#and how trying to compare it to our real life understanding of divinity is a bit fruitless#on the basis that a person can become a god alone but also that they themselves undeniably exist#but its so good. it ties in so well. brennan did a fucking fantastic job at capturing the abject horror of it all#also aabria iyengar if you can hear me PLEASE bring deanna back i will send you fifty dollars#and also hello i very briefly said hello at the live show and wanted to tell you how incredible i think you are but alas#where did these tags go#anyway#WOAH this is long. I should’ve been writing fic. alas.#really I don't think any of the hells are gonna be able to just. gloss over the casualties of it all. but especially mog and ashton and lau#tal has even already said that downfall made some things better for ash and some things Worse so I know I'm not too far off#I have. many many thought on how laudna will see it all too.#truly think she is going to be the most vocally horrified
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puppyeared · 5 months ago
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i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you
#im reading that post that says artists are directors of audience reaction and not its dictator:#'you cannot guarantee that everyone viewing your work will react as you are trying t make them react. a good artist knows that this is what#allows work to breath. by definition you cannot have art where the viewer brings nothing to the table ... this is why you have to let go of#the urge to plainly state in text exactly how you think the work should be interpreted ... its better to be misinterpreted sometimes than#to talk down to your audience. you wont even gain any control that way; people will still develop their opinions no matter what you do#im thinking abt this again cuz i was thinking maybe the thing that lets adventure time work so well the way it does is cuz it doesnt#take itself too seriously that it gives the audience enough room to fuck with subtext and then fuck with them back yknow. i think it was#mentioned somewhere that they werent even planning to run with the postapocalyptic elements that are hinted in the show but changed their#mind after the one off with the frozen businessmen and dominoed into marcy and simons backstory. on the other side there are stories that#explain too much to let the story speak for itself and i think it ends up having to do more with the crew trying to lead ppl in a certain#direction than expand on what they have and i see a lot of this with miraculous. like when interviews and tweets are used as word of god in#arguments and it becomes a little stifling to play around with it knowing the creator can just interject. u can say its the crews effort to#engage with its audience but it feels more like micromanaging. and none of this is to say there ISNT room for stories that spell things out#theyre just suited for different things. if sesame street tried abstract approaches to themes and nuance itd be counterproductive#a lot of things fly over my head so i need help picking things apart to get it- but it doesnt have to be from the story itself. ive picked#picked up or built on my own interpretations listening to other ppl share their thoughts which creates conversation around the same thing#sometimes stories will spell things out for you without being so obvious abt it that it feels like its woven into the text. my fav example#for this might be ATLA using younger characters as its main cast but instead of feeling like its dumbed down for kids to understand why war#is bad its framed from a childs point of view so younger audiences can pick up on it by relating to the characters. maybe an 8 year old#wont get how geopolitics works but at least they get 'hey the world is a little more complicated than everyone vs. fire nation'. same for#steven universe bc its like theyre trying to describe and put feelings into words that kids might not have so they have smth to start with#especially with the metaphors around relationships bc even if it looks unfamiliar as a kid now maybe the hope is for it to be smth you can#look back to. thats why it feels like these shows grew up with me.. instead of saving difficult topics for 'when im ready for it'#as if its preparing me for high school it gave me smth to turn in my hands and revisit again and again as i grow. stories that never#treated u as dumb all along. just someone who could learn and come back to it as many times as u need to. i loved SU for the longest time#but i felt guilty for enjoying it hearing the way ppl bash it. bc i was a kid and thought other ppl understood it better than me and made#feel bad for leaning into the message of paying forward kindness and not questioning why steven didnt punish the diamonds or hold them#accountable. but im rewatching it now and going oh. i still love this show and what it was trying to teach me#yapping#diary
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genericpuff · 10 months ago
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vent post
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#and before anyone who hates my shit says “yeah because you ARE a loser way to have self awareness for once”#i promise you this would be me with or without the LO fandom LMAO#anxiety is a hell of a thing#and as much as i internally guilt myself into thinking it would be better if i just shut up and hid away forever#i also know that's the trauma speaking because the adults around me always told me to shut up#and even as an adult i still encounter people who talk over me and make me feel like i'm not allowed to be outspoken#but the pen is mightier than the sword and all those years i've spent being spoken over i've been honing my penmanship#i have fun talking about the things i talk about and i don't have any less right than anyone else to do it#i am cringe and i am free#self post#vent post#altho on another note i do wanna make time this week to go find new series to read#too many of my favorites have turned to shit and it's taken its toll#i KNOW there are better comics out there that are genuinely well made#i already have a few that i'm reading that i love but i need to balance out the good with the bad more lol#i just need to take the time to go find good stuff instead of pouring so much of my attention into the bullshit that doesn't deserve my tim#i think both things can be true#i can have a lot of fun dissecting and writing about series i don't like#while also nourishing myself with good works that restore my faith in this medium#“perfectly balanced as all things should be”
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cherrieguroo · 24 days ago
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the hunt — the desolation
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al-luviec · 1 month ago
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compiled whatever this is (and I run out of tag space)
meh HoT gifs (3/?)
#alek gifs#ninjago#ninjago krux#ninjago acronix#hands of time#time twins#alternate title to this series is : stuff i noticed after watching this season 10 whole times#okay actually thats a lie. i realized this the 3rd time around#i think of acronix and how he barely makes any decisions for himself and i go crazy#ppl equate that with him feeling forced to do stuff.. uh hes always been a follower guys!!#cue him calling wu “master wu” even after the twins betrayal. him liking machia bc shes “mean” and bossy#he has no issue with following orders lol. prepare for a long acronix rant one day#contexts -> gif 1 barely counts i just wanted to include him looking at krux. he does this a lot during that fight#gif 2 is before they kill blunck and raggmunk (idk how to spell their names still ... sorry)#gif 3 is before they were going to kill wu in the golden hour legacy short. which is canon !!#gif 4 is before they sent themselves into the temporal vortex#that one post that was like “are we still doing revenge? yeah? cool” bc thats basically acronix#there is something fundamentally wrong with these two's brains but idk how to describe it#krux who literally lost his mind after losing his brother to the point he adopted an entire identity#“he just needed to go undercover!!” counter point as soon as acronix came back he was unable to pretend to be saunders. he acted super weird#like when kai was in the museum he couldnt pretend to be this person he wasnt. acronix was back !!! so was he. krux was 100% going to kill#the smith sibs if maya and ray didnt comply. also.. canonly they knew him when they worked as teachers back in s3. he watched them grow up#and pretended all was well meanwhile their parents were being forced to work and slave away to build the iron doom. he is not normal#then you have acronix who thrives off of violence and is described as throwing himself into battle like a blunt object. has no regard#for himself as a person and just takes (almost) everything his brother says as gospel. s7 couldve done smthn really cool with how#the only thing the twins ever really disagreed on was technology. also ive went on a semirant about how krux's hatred for tech was misplaced#hatred for losing acronix. wanted to travel to the pre modern era? okay well whyd he pick 40 years ago specifically. also NOTE that they#went back after their past selves had lost. they wouldve faired better if they went and helped their past selves. also the reversal blade#had already fallen so when the twins went back in time there was two kruxes. he literally went back to when he had been all alone for the#for the first time. he went back to when his life was ruined and his brother was gone!! but he had nix with him this time . ughdhf
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undead-moth · 5 months ago
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I know I've been on about this for a while now and I'm being a hater but you're telling me SydCarmy was "always meant to be platonic" even though there are two seasons of writing making use of tried-and-true explicitly romantic tropes, themes and writing signals, and SydLuca is going to be romantic because...he was nice to her on screen for a few minutes?
I don't even care if people ship SydLuca, or if they just prefer it, but you can't honestly tell me that you believe Carmy was always meant to be a friend but Luca is an obvious love interest.
Just because Syd and Carmy haven't kissed or confessed their love to each other doesn't mean that isn't very obviously the direction this show is going. The Bear has already shown you who is endgame. It has shown you every episode of the show so far.
Honestly I really don't think The Bear fanbase understands this show or cares about these characters or the story being told here, which is unfortunate because this show is shockingly well-written in comparison to most shows right now, and we should be so grateful for it but all we're doing is complaining that the writers led us on by not making a ship canon fast enough. It's just. Sad.
#The Bear#SydCarmy#I was like a casual fan of this show two days ago#and now seeing how little respect this show gets from it's fanbase I'm losing my mind#I mean I shipped SydCarmy before anyway but now it means so much to me#it means so much to see such a realistic and purposefully well paced romance take place#so many shows portray romantic relationships and their beginnings in ways that just don't really happen in real life#and this show very purposefully said no. These are characters who are strangers. who are working together. Who are in a tense environment#and each of them has problems - one of them the type of problems that makes developing new relationships pretty difficult#these two would not get together right away. It would take a long time. And there would be ups and downs.#And even when that's the case. Even if when it takes a long time and doesn't go smoothly and is hard -#it can still be beautiful. It can still be romantic. It can still happen and here's how#and I'm just so inspired genuinely. It is so difficult to write romance without being cliche and so difficult to write it in a way that#could actually happen in real life and I really do hope I can write something half as good some day#and then to know so many people have no appreciation for it at all#because they prefer the shows that have characters make eye contact a few times and then confess their love for each other like#it's just fucking sad. So sad that so few people have any appreciation for good writing especially the difficult of romance writing#like I really just don't even know what to tell you. In real life these two would not have confessed to each other yet. They would not have#kissed yet. They would not have even realized they have feelings for each other yet because those feelings would still be developing#and I also want to point out that given the disparity in power between Syd and Carmy in season 1 it wouldn't have been healthy for them to#get together much sooner. He was her boss. He was also her idol. Before they can even get together that needs to be balanced out.#And then on top of that don't you see the value in Carmy realizing the dream girl he's romanticized in his head - Claire - isn't actually#what he wants? Don't you see the beauty in him being disillusioned from that? And realizing that Syd is what he wants?#Don't you see the beauty in Syd having an idealized vision of what Carmy The Great Chef is like realizing she was wrong and that he's human#and flawed and then realizing - she loves him anyway? She loves him more for not being on a pedestal and for having his flaws?#Are you telling me that even thinking about this doesn't move you? Doesn't make your heart ache a little?#And again - ship and let ship - but what is Luca? What is Luca if not just what she was hoping Carmy would be when she wen to The Beef?#What is he if not just another man who she has not seen under pressure yet? Not seen reliving trauma yet? Not been her boss yet?#It's easy to look at him and think he's better than Carmy - and that's the point. That's the point The Bear is making.#It is easy to want someone you don't know. It's hard to want to someone you do know. But that's what love requires and that's the point
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saints-who-never-existed · 9 months ago
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I love Dundy so so much but Christ, do I hate how fucking calm he seems in that Lawful Mutiny scene...!
Little is riled the fuck up. He's the most animated and impassioned we've perhaps ever seen him, using uncharacteristically expressive language too ("this coven of traitors", "that devil").
Le Vesconte, in sharp contrast, appears cool and collected, to the point of complete detachment and numbness (I say appears because of course he's suffering too). He speaks slowly and plainly, clearly having rehearsed, and chooses his words very very carefully indeed (those too ill to walk will not be left behind, for example, they'll just "stay").
It's almost like he's that arsehole in a disagreement who tries to convince you that they're right just because they're arguing in a calm, 'logical', grammatically-correct manner, and you're wrong just because you're getting passionate and emotional over the subject at hand.
Like, just imagine being Little in that situation!
You've been suppressing your emotions for god knows how long, keeping your anger and resentment simmering just below the surface for as long as you can remember for fear of what will happen if you let those emotions show, fear that it'll just make things worse.
But finally you can suppress no longer, something in you breaks. All that anger and resentment starts to boil over but you find that you were right - letting those emotions show didn't help at all, it made everything worse, just as you feared.
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aroaceleovaldez · 4 months ago
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i would like to say my ideal PJO adaptation (if i was being physically forced against my will to have to pick a live action adaptation over an animated one for some reason) would be a combo like writing of the musical + casting of the show + visuals of the movies
BUT the show actually does have the playwright for the musical as one of the major writers for like three episodes and that did nothing for it. so...
#pjo#riordanverse#pjo tv crit#i do love the casting for the musical lots and lots though#it was really good#i do also have some nitpicks for show casting but they're largely inconsequential#like majority i very much enjoy and think are cast well#i only have one i'd say im actually disappointed with and that's Poseidon. idk he just feels. bland??? does that make sense?#like idk maybe it's the costuming but im not getting Sea God *or* Fishing Dad from him#like i think i kinda see what they were going for and i saw some gifs of him in another show where he plays a pirate and its like#okay. *little* bit better. but idk im just not getting Poseidon from it#in general most of the immortals in the show dont feel very Immortal(tm) but thats definitely mostly just the writing/show itself#not any reflection of the casting#my only other two are i would have liked plus sized Clarisse. i am VERY sad we didnt get that#Dior is a VERY good Clarisse though so i'm not too upset about it. i like her Clarisse energy. the yelling is fantastic.#my most controversial pjo tv take is im still meh on Walker. like he's fine. but like he's kind of Just Fine to me so far#its probably mostly the writing being bad but he hasnt grown on me as Percy yet. i can tell he has the energy though in interviews n stuff#and the main trio dynamic in interviews and stuff is *very* good. i just wish the show writing was better#because the casting IS very good but they have so little to work with. you can really tell theyre trying their best#i like to joke the show would be better if they just set the cast loose in the woods doing in-character improv#like its clear basically all of them know their characters SUPER well. id watch 8 episodes of in the woods pjo cosplay improv.
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dicktat · 18 days ago
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Yes I know I said I’d be away for a while due to personal reasons but I CANNOT stand the slander my ship is getting. So here’s a masterpost of all the recent merchies I’ve made. IDGAF what you ship if you want something MAKE it yourself.
I feel sorry for everyone being harassed rn a fandom is a place of leisure and should have no tolerance for conflicts and bullying.
LONG LIVE HAIDEN.
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