#y'all get on my nerves

[dawnofiight]

Mm

My hot take of the day is:

You are not better than anybody else just because you have different opinions than them. I genuinely think that some of you think that and that's why you go into people's dms and send all kinds of death threats. You are NOT better than anyone just because you don't see a character the same way that another person would and they are not lesser than you because of that.

You are also not in any position to dictate what people can and cannot like and should and should not do.. are we ok?

Like some of you are the most nastiest and downright PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE people I have ever seen and you're literally the type of people you claim to hate. David Shaw and Sam Collins are not real, RELAX.

You take things too seriously when it's not EVER going to be or HAS BEEN that serious. You can go to sleep and wake up and it's still not going to be that serious and I really think some of you aren't aware of that.

RELAX.

If you don't like something, BLOCK SOMEONE. It's literally there for that purpose why do you not like blocking people? I love doing that it's my second favorite thing (/hj) You don't HAVE to send death threats and racial slurs you know this, yes? You don't HAVE to.

[bitchy-peachy]

"Omg, you're so selfish for not fucking up your entire country for this other one."

Yes, yes I am so utterly "selfish" that I care about the rights and safety of all minorities in my country that consist of disabled, brown and black, immigrants, lgbtqia, and poor people etc in general.

I ain't a privileged little twat having a moralistic main character moment that will sacrifice people here for others. We need to take care of our own shit before we go all in for your cause because if we don't do so we will no longer be able to help anyone.

Blocking all suspicious accounts cause I ain't in the mood for right-wing-looking "vote third party" or "don't vote" fucks that want to not only destroy people in our country but want Mr. Finish The Job to be elected so he could obliterate your one-issue.

Let's see how well your stupid protest works then when we're all fucked and can't even help ourselves much less anyone else outside our country.

I recommend that everyone block the accounts spreading this copypaste anti voting propaganda bullshit. We saw it in 2016 and we should be intolerant to this crap.

[naartjie-hijabi]

Can I just say something really quick?

Ever since that damned "Our Flag Means Death" was cancelled, mind you was this show even popular outside of the US because I legitimately have never even heard of it before, a lot of you so called "allies" have been showing your true colours.

The fact that you can raise $20k, create and sign petitions, even go as far as organising a billboard for a freaking show that has KNOWN zionists in its crew, but you couldn't spend even a portion of that energy for people who are actively facing a genocide says a lot about who you are as a person. The fact that you have the nerve to go into Palestinian spaces and try to justify your actions when they call you out, really where do any of you get the audacity?

These people are grieving. They have family and friends dying and fighting for their right to even exist and you have the damn nerve to go to their inboxes and whine about a fucking gay pirate show. If you felt offended by victims calling you out for your bullshit and made statements about reconsidering your stance on the on-going genocide, then guess what? You're not as great a person as you think you are.

Standing in solidarity with Palestine isn't some sort of trend or community project that you can just opt out of. Standing in solidarity with Palestine isn't something you can brag about or hold over the heads of actual Palestinians as if having basic human decency is something to be proud of.

If your allyship is that fragile, you're not actually an ally, you don't actually care about Palestine, all you are is an opportunist looking for some way to show off your white-savior complex.

Your opinions, believe it or not, does not matter more than the opinions of the victims of a 76-year occupation. If they tell you they're uncomfortable, you LISTEN. If they call you out for your bullshit, you LISTEN. No Palestinian owes you any explanation for their pain, so can you please stop looking for validation by leaving your shitty explanations in the inboxes of Palestinians? It's really not that hard to not be an ass.

The world has bigger problems than your pirate show, so get your head out of your ass and actually do something constructive.

[noodlesarecheese]

Full disclosure I'm a couple episodes behind in WWW, so I'm not 100% on every thing that's being discoursed about, but I've seen enough that I just want to remind people/beg people to remember:

You are watching The Nuance Show, DMed by Mr. Philosophical Nuance and played by Notable Lovers of Nuance.

[a-chaotically-small-lunta]

You know how you look up to someone and how someone looks up to you? Okay, now make it g/t

Lemme explain via example: Imagine a writer who types all their stories on their computer. Maybe they share them online maybe they are way too nervous to do that, and just keep it a secret hobby. Anyway, one day they leave their desk to do something only to come back and notice that their writing document moved to a different page, and their computer didn’t fall asleep like it usually did. This confuses them but they brush it off, telling themselves that maybe they were faster than normal and maybe accidentally moved the page.

However, it keeps happening. Each day they walk away for a moment or even longer, their computer never falls asleep and is on a completely different page. This starts to freak them out. So, they decide to walk away and then sneak back as quietly as possible. When they peek their head inside, they see a tiny little person at their computer, just staring at the screen. The writer watches as the tiny continues to read their story, and that’s when they realize, they’re reading the writer’s story. They walk in, spooking the tiny. The tiny is in shock, they can’t tell if it’s just fear of being seen or getting the chance to actually talk to the writer whose work they adore, perhaps a mix of both. Maybe the tiny gets overwhelmed and before the writer can ask the classic “What are you” question, the tiny burst into a bunch of questions about the story the writer is writing. The writer taken aback by this, just awkwardly answers them and tries to ask them a question only for the tiny to continue asking questions. Eventually the tiny remembers that “Oh right… I’m not supposed to be seen…” and cautiously asks if the writer is upset with them and whether they will hurt them. The wrier assures them that they are mad and won’t hurt them and are honestly glad that their computer wasn’t hacked or there was a ghost or something. Also, how could the writer ever hurt their biggest…well smallest fan?

Maybe they build a friendship where the tiny helps the writer with ideas and getting over those writing hurdles. Hell, maybe the tiny even was inspired by the writer and tried writing their own story and shares it with the writer. Maybe the writer gains the confidence to share their stories online or even publish their work all because one little person loved their work. Perhaps the tiny, with the help of the writer, shares their own stories while hiding their identity as a tiny from everyone. So many possibilities! Just tiny little fans, forgetting they should probably focus on not being seen and not “What is Character’s favorite thing to do when they are bored?” Like sweetheart probably not the best time, but go for it.

[silusvesuius]

last post abt this but; it's also interesting to observe how tumblr users will just recycle and chew out a trope-y ass boring "Googoo ga ga Cannibalism crazy gay romance toxic segs Blood perv murder 🥰😍😍😍😍" 5th grader shtick in all of their fandom works + cheer when sex and violence is the topic of songs that AREN'T hip hop, but the moment those 2 topics are present in hip hop songs they're like..... no...Wwah 😪😥😥😭😭bwahh GAA GA TOO SCARY😥😥

[what-is-it-to-be-pk-esque]

Ahhhhhh so next month I'm actually going to a con where like 4 of the BG3 VAs will be attending too, so I've been trying to get screenshots to pick ones I'll have signed and this is so difficult 😭

The title screen poster would be PERFECT if only Karlach was on it 😭😭😭 But she's not, so here I am debating on which of these I want signed and framed on my wall

This one is perf for Lae'zel

Cannot decide which is better for Wyll and Karlach cause I like her lighting the cigars but Wyll doesn't smile til the next shot

Shadowheart I'm leaning towards the one that's just her (or maybe taking a screenshot of her petting Scratch)

And Astarion... as you can see is a nightmare choice for me because I have so many good shots that are wholesome and I don't wanna buy the thirst trap-y or emotional ones that are online lol (and probably what'll be there in person too)

I took those above shots as potentials, but I'm leaning towards one of these next High Hall ones maybe? So there's space to write

These two from the graveyard scene and epilogue hug are good options too tho

sighhhhh maybe i should just buy prints of them all and see what comes out nicely

[cardi-c]

No author has to cater to your preferences.

Write your own fanfic :)

[nguyenfinity]

You would not believe what AU I cooked up with @posebean this time it's genshin

Additional notes:

Melt synergy (also reversed colors yahoo)

They run a tea house!! Hachimitsu Tea House :]

And they're married

They're sooo married (Niki's ring is holding his lil tassel)

Niki

Support/healer (anyone's a dps if you build them hard enough though)

Signature dish: Cinnamon baked apple slices (we'll figure it out don't worry about it)

Ascension mats: pyro cube, slimes, naku weed

Constellation: esuriens ursi

Rinne

dps (glass cannon style)

Signature dish: Honeycomb nikujaga (once again don't worry about it)

Ascension mats: bathysmal vishap, treasure hoarders, onikabuto

Constellation: fila fati

he throws his claymore at you and then decks you in his normal attack sequence

mr. master of deception keeping his vision tucked away and wearing red

mostly useless without his wife (see: passive)

[lokiinmediasideblog]

Can I be controversial and say that I'm tired of shippers (esp. Sylkis and Lokiuses) giving Disney too much credit for the sake of their ships?

With Lokiuses I will be seeing too much credit because Loki and Mobius are standing close together or hugging or something. And them acting like it's the epitome of queer rep. It's not even queerbaiting... they're just next to each other.... I also don't get what is so special about this ship that it has to be cannon, and why some of you treat it like the only queer ship that matters for LGBTQIA+ rep. Y'all don't even get the personalities right in fanfic and turn it into Ineffable Husbands 2.0. I'd argue Lokius has a darker dynamic than that and is far from equivalent to Ineffable Husbands. The characters just kinda look like each other but have very different dynamics.

With Sylkis I've recently been seeing (esp. on TWT but I just saw a post in the Loki tag here on Tumblr) this erasure of Disney's homophobic history with "See they have NO problem with MLM and queer people. Let's forget they used Loki's genderfluidity was used to market the series and nothing was done with it."

Also, the examples provided to prove that "Disney has no trouble with the gays" are: 1. from a movie that Marvel likes to pretend doesn't exist because they only care about money and not rep (and yes it was a very important step. I'm not denying that), and 2. A very recent example of a show that just came out in this very year and last month *ba-dum-tss.* Why the fuck should I congratulate Disney for increasing LGBTQIA+ representation at a GLACIAL pace? Other companies have done better! Istg if you defend them I'll roll my eyes...

Do I have to go over with you guys about the how long it took for Valkyrie's bisexuality to be confirmed within the MCU and not just in interviews? There was so much hype about her being the first confirmed bisexual in the Thor movies. Tessa Thompson FOUGHT to have a scene confirming that Valkyrie liked women in TR that was CUT OFF from the final product.

The closest thing to rep that TR was allowed to have fell more under queer-coding towards the GM and Loki. Loki "cozied up" with the evil Grandmaster to avoid fighting in the gladiatorial arena in some scenes while framing Loki as spineless, treacherous, and needing "correction" from the hero that didn't shy away from fighting in the arena. And the next bit of rep we got from there was fucking gay Russo. Y'all have TERRIBLE memories.

An example of this Marvel defense bullshit to show I am not making this shit up:

Stop giving the fucking mouse credit and money. Y'all don't even like what happened in the series and are also 100% unsatisfied with how it ended.

[sunniss]

I wish I do the right things. - You know what I wished for just now? I wished for your dreams to become a reality.... - Let’s get married. GAP The Series Ep.10

[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all! Weird question time, this time about muscles, so if discussions of cramps, muscle knots, or muscle spasms bother you don't click the read more (warning because my sister gets really grossed out by thinking about blood or muscles)

So I remember I asked y'all about the difference between muscle cramps, muscle spasms, and muscle knots a while back, but I can't remember if I asked how common it is for people to get muscle spasms? Like, specifically, I am thinking about the kind of muscle spasms where it's not painful, a chunk of muscle is just twitching on its own. Is that like a happened once kind of thing for you, a once in a blue moon kinda thing, or a several times a week thing? Or never? (I almost forgot that as an option) Also, have you ever had muscle knots bad enough that moving the limb they are on the wrong way makes the whole limb shake? I'm assuming that's just the muscle knot pressing on a nerve, and it wasn't painful, but it was weird

Almost forgot to mention, asking these questions in the context of no injury to cause the muscles to react, just like an everyday kind of thing (I have been checked for several different muscle, nerve, and neurological issues that could affect muscles, and every doc agrees it's just the electrolyte issues caused by me being sodium georg, so I'm okay I'm just curious)

[shadedheart138]

I Left My Body Lying Somewhere In The Sands Of Time

This piece of writing focuses on a certain coping mechanism that I don't know if everyone is comfortable with, so I'm putting a border up. And here, I will put a definition! "Age regression is a psychological phenomenon that occurs when someone's thoughts, emotions, or behaviors revert to a younger developmental stage. It can be a temporary or long-term response to stress, trauma, or other factors, and it can happen at any age."

So this is NOT A KINK, and I only say this due to the people I know are out there who perceive it as such. People have this in real life. People cope with this in real life. This is just a personal headcanon that I was learning how to write with, and I'm doing my best to know all the research. Please let me know if anything doesn't fit or doesn't seem right or anything that I've gotten wrong, I'm trying to learn.

If you don't want to read it, no one is forcing you to. Be safe, readers!

Time was supposed to be unshakable, wasn't he? Their leader, the man everyone turned to for answers? When something goes wrong, who's the first person everyone knew had the answer to the given problem? Always ready to give advice. Ready to comfort. Old and wise.

So why was he curled in the trunk of an old tree, not feeling old at all?

His adventures had been hell, with time travel. More than double of his lifespan had been spent as a child. But he was in his late thirties now, he was sure, so why did he suddenly feel so small like the world was too big and he wanted to hide? Where was the strong leader people looked for?

He was gone, and a child was left in his place.

Link sniffled and cried, hugging himself. Thankfully they'd been at his and Malon's ranch, so whatever this... this was, was at least occurring in woods he knew were safe. But to someone who felt so small, feeling like the treetops hit the sky, like his memory wasn't quite there or complete, the forest was a maze. Almost like he was nine again. If Time was Time, he'd walk home in five minutes, no problem. But he... Was he Link out of Termina? Link after beating Ganon? Where was the math, what was his age? Would the Mask of Truth show him how old he really was, deep inside?

Was he nine, seventeen, sixteen, eight, five, thirteen, eighteen, or thirty six? That was too many numbers to think of. Masks he could do. He knew them, he wore them, he was the person inside for a bit. Somebody different. Certainly not the mess he was now.

He couldn't walk out, no problem, this time.

Link's hands- at least he knew he was Link, if not anything else. Was that a comfort or a curse? - fumbled at his belt. So many masks usually lined his belt. Where did they all go? The details were fuzzy. Only three of them were still there. At least there were three and they weren't all gone.

He hit his elbow on the tree and instead of flinching, his cries renewed, quiet and confused. Ow, why were even the trees being mean to him today??? It wasn't fair! It wasn't his fault that his limbs were too long and he was too tall and he felt too old to sit here and cry. Brain and body were not the same. Both complex in different ways. All mixed and matched and jumbled. He couldn't quite get a proper grasp on that feeling in the back of his brain, starting to spread and bleed fuzzily into the rest of his consciousness.

Link sniffled and rubbed his eyes. Right, what was he trying to do again? Masks? Ah. The first one he'd ever held.

He unclipped the Deku Mask with shaking, too-big fingers and cradled it gently. Perfect. He sniffled again. " 'M sorry." His voice was thick and small. He then slipped the mask over his face.

XXX

Why did transformations hurt so much? He'd forgotten how much they hurt. He didn't want to hurt. Had he, at some point, gotten used to it? But when had he had the chance to forget, it couldn't have been that long ago?

No matter. Link was maybe a little shorter than he was at nine, with the mask, and that almost cured his sniffles completely. Small in both body and mind, perfect! Matched like Malon's favorite cucco socks! But now what was he going to do, in these woods, in the late hours of the day? It was rapidly getting dark.

Being small wasn't useful in the dark.

And oh, Link didn't like the dark. Things that screamed and cried and took your life lived in the dark. The moon lived in the dark. Majora. Ganon. They all lived in the dark and he was surrounded by it, barely able to see the trees. No fairy to light his way. No song of home faintly heard through the trees to be his guide. Not even a night light.

He burst into tears again.

Link's tears weren't really there, seeing as he was effectively a Deku Scrub. There were no tears to cry. But the frantic breathing was there, the choked sounds in the back of his throat where vocal chords used to be. His hands were clumsy, made of wood, but they were small, how he wanted, needed, felt. How would he get home?

Oh, no no no, Link couldn't go home. They would think he was so silly, Mido would laugh. But was he going home to the Kokiri, or home to Malon? Would Malon think he was silly? His boys?

He didn't want to think of his boys. Link wasn't someone's dad. Being a parent was an adult job. And Link had just made the rule that he wasn't allowed to think of adults, effective immediately. Perfect rule, and rules were to be followed. Rules kept you safe.

So, instead of trying to go home, he scampered off deeper into the woods. He could find fairies, some light. And maybe when he felt better, they could guide him home. Navi always seemed so good at that.

XXX

"Where the fuck is he??" Warriors hissed, looking at the darkness outside. Time had gone out hours ago, claiming he needed firewood. It didn't take hours to gather wood from a stack of wood that was already chopped. He'd seemed a little detached as he told Warriors where he was going, but Warriors had chalked it up to needing some alone time from everything around.

"He jus' fuckin' up an' vanished." Twilight was pacing again. Time wasn't known for just disappearing. Or for saying he was going one place and turning up in another. That was Wild and Hyrule's job. Sometimes Legend's, if he was pissed off enough.

"It's nearly night, don't you think-" Four was cut off by Warriors grabbing his sword.

"I'll go get him. He's somewhere out here. I'll find him. He can't be far."

XXX

Oh, Link was so far away from home, and he wanted to go home NOW. Forget looking silly, the trees were all looking at him and they were mad and there was no moon and he could hear all the noises the forest made. He wanted to go home.

Link made soft, wounded noises, heading this way and that. No fairy bushes, no mushroom lights. No Navi. No Tatl. Just the dark and ohhelpno-

A very small hole he'd wedged a foot into. Had something grabbed him? Link pulled and pulled, but his foot was stuck and tight. Maybe some sort of burrow? He'd know if he was bigger. For sure. Link whined softly. He could hear the forest moving, which meant he had to GO GO GO or else something would find him and snatch him and he'd be gone forever-

Footsteps, quietly crunching, soft to try and not be heard. Link held his breath.

And immediately lost it in a grating sob, unnatural in the transformed body. Link's hands were too clumsy, no matter if they felt the right size. He couldn't magically dig himself out of the burrow-hole. The footsteps were getting faster, more urgent. Link couldn't get up, couldn't get free, one more footstep, Link curled up over himself, two more, hands on his face, covered in dirt one more two more three and four- "Heyyyy, shh. Are you okay?" The voice was warm, calming. As if talking to a frightened, wild animal. "I'm not here to hurt you, just looking for a- Time?" A time? What a funny thing to be looking for. Vaguely, Link recalled that he responded to that name. He paid it no mind, instead continuing to try and wiggle free.

XXX

Warriors looked down at this... Deku Scrub? That clearly seemed to be Time. The scar, the eyes, even the markings had transferred. Time was making an odd rattling noise, sort of like shaking deku nuts in a bottle. Trying to talk? Trying to explain? No. Warriors noted that it was some attempt at Hylian crying, though the body wasn't built for the sound.

Oh, dear.

"Okay, okay, I'll just- I'll try to figure out what's going on, okay? Is- is it some sort of curse? Can I break it? Here let me-" Warriors reached under Time's arms to lift him free, and Time was immediately clinging to him.

XXX

A curse? Was he cursed? Link cried into Warriors' neck. He knew Warriors, knew him from stern talks and warm mugs and being carried when he was too sleepy to walk. Warriors was safe. And he'd brought light with him! Link sniffled again, hands fisted in Warriors' scarf.

Warriors started to pat him down and check him over.

"Are you hurt? Are you okay? You've been gone hours, Time."

Link shook his head. But he didn't answer the second question, nor did he respond much to his name. Warriors found the small dip under Link's chin that meant that he was wearing a mask. Warriors frowned.

"Hey, can you look at me?"

Link looked up at him.

"Are you wearing a mask?" Link nodded slowly.

"Sprite, why? You've told me you don't like using those." Link jolted at the nickname and watched Warriors with wide eyes. 'Helps', Link signed, struggling to properly move his hands the way they should for the sign.

"Helps? With what?" Warriors only got a shrug as an answer.

XXX

Time shuffled to try and lay his head down on Warriors' shoulder, but Warriors gently held his head back up. Time was being so vague. He didn't seem to be fully there, his eyes distant. What could the Deku Mask help that Time couldn't do himself? Time didn't like using masks anymore, he'd said on multiple occasions.

"Can we take the mask off?" Warriors asked, moving his hand to try and get his fingers under it-

Time startled and pushed at his hand, making that same rattling noise he'd made earlier. 'Need it!' Time signed with emphasis, shaking his head.

"Time, c'mon. We've gotta get it off, so you can tell me what's going on."

Time made what was clearly some sort of whine and tried to hide his face in Warriors' neck. Warriors made a startled noise and tilted his head a little to make more space. "Is- is there a reason you can't take it off?" Time didn't answer that one, too busy clinging.

He was acting like a child, frightened and desperate. Warriors put a hand against Time's head, holding him close. "What's going on, Time? I'm just worried." Time made an unhappy noise at the name, and Warriors was sort of freaking out inside. He hadn't seen anything like this, where someone who was normally a functioning adult acted and sounded like a child-

Oh, wait. He had.

Back in the war, once things were starting to simmer down. The nightmares and flashbacks were terrible for many people. And Warriors had seen many a person cry and wail and ask for a parent. He had seen them draw and play in a safe tent. He had watched them seem at ease for the first time in a long time. He couldn't recall what Proxi had called it, but he knew it was some form of coping. Something to make them feel safe.

Time... maybe that's what Time was facing, now. The overwhelming feeling of being small and vulnerable again. These dark woods were no place for a child, whether only in mind or not.

"Alright, Link. I'm gonna need you to take off the mask for just a little while, okay? I've gotta talk to you and need to make sure you can talk back. It might hurt, and it might not make you feel great, but I've gotta check you over. Then, if you want, you can put it right back on."

Warriors softened his voice, hoping that he'd listen.

Time- Link. He could call him Link for now. Just in case.

Link sniffled and cried... and put his hands up to take off the mask. It came off quick, and as soon as it unlatched from Link's face it fell to the ground, and Warriors was met with wailing. He'd been right, the rattling sound had been an attempt at crying.

Now with an armful of a very heavy man, Warriors grunted a little and made to sit down. Link wound up in his lap, shaking and visibly trying to make himself small as he fisted a handful of Warriors' scarf.

"Hey, hey. Okay, see, wasn't so bad. I'm gonna check you over now, okay?" Warriors started gently moving Link's body to make sure that all the nicks that'd been in the Deku Scrub body had been scars and not cuts. Finding that that was the case, Warriors then gave him a hug.

"Alright, good. You're not hurt. Can you..."

Should he really ask this question, was this an invasive ask, would he be mad-

"Can you tell me how old you are? Or how old you feel?"

Warriors bit his lip, rocking Link gently back and forth, waiting for an answer. Link gave a wounded noise and shook his head, closing his eyes and pressing at them. Worth a shot.

"Okay, can you talk to me at all? Tell me why you were so far out here all alone?"

Link visibly tried to gather himself.

" 'S hard." He whispered, voice thick and upset. Link started crying a little harder, and Warriors was quick to console him.

"No, no, no, Sprite, it's okay. You don't have to talk if you can't. I can do without. Can you sign okay? Just give me a simple yes with your hands, if so." Link signed a shaky 'yes' and then moved to hide his face again.

"Okay, buddy. Do you think we can go home now?" Link shook his head, his tears soaking Wars' shoulder. "Why not?"

Link's hands were hard to read, as he shook and clung to Warriors. Warriors caught half-made signs of 'sleepy', 'scared', and 'can't'. He sighed and moved to rest his back against a tree.

"Alright, Link. We'll just sit here until you feel better, okay?"

[blackmagictrait]

you never answered my request and eventually the cc I wanted just went free. do you just pick and choose who to respond to? :/

mf I work AND go to school, I do this in my downtime for the sake of being helpful. I'm not getting paid to play fetch for you. I answer requests if/when I have the cc, if I don't have it then bitch I don't have it. ALL the resources I use to find cc are linked in my pinned post. anyone can do it. if I'm too slow for your ass then go do it your damn self.

also like......the cc you wanted is free now....you got it. what are you mad at me for? the fuck.

[ghost-proofbaby]

“Do not,” he whispers to her in a low tone, face still impassive as he presses himself just close enough so that she’s the only one that can hear him, “Get involved in this. Unless, of course, you’re going to swing on one of the poor saps. In that case, I fully support you, my dear.” 

summary: when the party finally encounters a proper fight, aruna only has one thing on her mind: save astarion. and if she finally starts to piece together a few things about herself and her magic, well - that can't possibly hurt, can it?

wc: 5.3k+

warnings: continued memory loss, fighting, spoilers for the game (play by play description of scenes from emerald grove in act 1), aruna and astarion can't decide if they'll play nice with each other or not lol

a/n: this fic is about to be just a constant cycle of aruna taking a spray bottle to astarion as her weird way of trying to keep him alive truly

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Aruna is beginning to believe the tadpole in her head was the least of the inconveniences she’d had to encounter on her journey.

When they’d left camp for the day, they’d have a very straightforward objective: discover a form of civilization, find a healer, and get the damned worms out of their heads. 

Simple. Easier said than done, but certainly simple. 

Or so she thought. 

It starts when they’re wandering the trails of the wilderness leading out of camp. They’re not going towards the beach this time, she promises Shadowheart that much, but what they come across is far worse than having to face off with anymore intellect devourers. 

Actual people. Tieflings, Gale identifies, who had a familiar githyanki held high above them in a cage. 

Aruna would never say she has a bleeding heart based on her choices so far on their journey, but she still doesn’t hesitate to decide to help the githyanki. Shadowheart confirmed she was on the ship, with much distaste, and made it clear she wasn’t keen on helping her. Aruna didn’t care. Astarion also seemed less than pleased at the prospect of helping, but his hands were twitching for his daggers, and she realized he’d only kept his mouth shut due to the clear opportunity for a fight to break out. 

Gale had been the only one on her side as she’d approached the situation. 

One painful merging of her tadpole to the githyanki’s (although, notably less painful than her connection with Gale, and certainly less agonizing than that with Astarion) and a failed attempt at diffusing the situation in hopes for no blood to be shed later, Astarion got his wishes. A fight. That they’d won, quite easily. Whether it was thanks to Gale’s quick trigger of his magic or Astarion’s flashing daggers was up for debate (it wasn’t really – she just couldn’t bear to boost either man’s ego by saying as much out loud.)

Lae’zel. The githyanki’s name was Lae’zel, and Aruna didn’t hesitate to dismiss her in the direction of their camp, much to everyone’s disdain. 

Aruna didn’t care. She had an end goal in mind for the day – she was going to find a healer, daylight be damned. 

“I still don’t trust the gith,” Shadowheart is continuing to complain at her side as they trek further along these paths. There are paths. Leading somewhere. And those tieflings had mentioned something about a grove. There had to be civilization somewhere nearby, “I respect your choice, but I’ll continue to sleep with one eye open with her at camp.”

“Be my guest,” Aruna mutters, growing tired of the complaints. 

She gets it – she has no former memories on how ‘distrustful’ githyankis are, but Shadowheart has made it abundantly clear they shouldn’t drop their guard around her. She got it about ten damning sighs and wistful comments ago. 

“And how are we to trust all her talk of purification? What if it’s nothing more than a trap, luring us in to lead us to certain death?” Shadowheart tsks, voicing a lingering concern that Aruna already had. But that bit of information that Lae’zel had offered was the first real lead they had on getting rid of the tadpoles, and she wasn’t about to dismiss it as Shadowheart was, “We simply can’t tr-”

“I’d hate to interrupt, but may I have a word with our fearless leader? I’ll only be a moment, I swear.”

Astarion had been lingering towards the back of the group for most of their walk. Quiet, occasionally humming to himself and smirking at others' comments here and there. Less out of real amusement, Aruna senses, and more in a belittling way. 

But suddenly, he had picked up his pace and fallen into step on Aruna’s left, leaning over and looking to the cleric who had been complaining endlessly on her right. 

Shadowheart, surprisingly, takes the hint well. 

The moment she’s fallen back to join Gale instead, probably still airing her superficial issues, Aruna is shooting a glance in Astarion’s direction. “If you’re here to say you also don’t trust Lae’zel, please just- save it for when we’re back at camp, please.” 

She doesn’t think her headache could handle anymore. 

“What? Oh, no,” Astarion scoffs, scrunching his nose for a moment, “I could care less about the gith. I just knew if Shadowheart’s yapping was getting on my nerves, you must be in desperate need of a break.”

Yapping. It was a cruel way to put it, but it still made a smile nearly break on Aruna’s face. 

“What was it you needed to discuss, then?” she asks, a little less on edge now. 

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“As I said, it just seemed as though we all needed a break from talk of the gith.”

That was… oddly kind. Even if Astarion had clearly done it in part for his own sanity, Aruna found herself appreciating the gesture regardless. 

They walk in silence for a while. Only a few mutters escape from Gale and Shadowheart from behind them, but Aruna chooses to block them out. With Astarion at her side now instead, she was able to better focus on leading them somewhere useful. Somewhere with answers, somewhere with a healer-

She should have known the peace wouldn’t last. 

Shouts sound up ahead, but the entire group’s view is entirely blocked from a large hill. 

“That doesn’t sound good,” Astarion notes the obvious, offering a quick side glance, as if observing Aruna’s own reaction to guarantee it aligned with his own. 

And it did. Well, sort of. “We should check it out.”

The entire group stares at her as if she’s finally grown tentacles. 

“We’ll be careful about it, obviously-”

“Obviously,” Astarion cuts in sarcastically.

“-But I have a feeling wherever that yelling is coming from, is… is…” 

Civilization? A step in the right direction?

“A healer,” she finally settles on it, which only makes everyone’s faces twist even further at her, “The shouting must mean people, and the more people, the higher likelihood of a healer.”

That seems to convince them all well enough. 

They creep up the hill and easily break off into natural pairings – Astarion stays at Aruna’s side as they find a hiding place in bushes near the hill’s peak, Gale and Shadowheart find a safe spot behind a tree on the opposite side, a bit further back. 

In the clearing below, Aruna spots the commotion easily. Three people – seemingly human – banging on a large wooden gate covered in vinery. At the top of the gate, there stands multiple tieflings, all arguing besides a large wheel that Aruna can only presume opens the gate.

And she can finally hear the words being shouted.

“Open the bloody gate! Goblins are coming!”

She feels Astarion tense beside her, clearly hearing what she had. Goblins. She can’t exactly visualize them, her memory predictably failing her once more, but she doesn’t have to wait long before the horde shows themselves. 

A large group. Foul creatures of all kinds, not just these goblins, are snarling in the direction of those humans. 

Finally, as if seeing were truly believing, a tiefling begins to open the gate. But Aruna already knows it’s far too late before the arrow that ends him has flown through the air – they had hesitated, and it just cost one of their own their life. 

The gate drops, despite the humans efforts to hold it up. The tiefling falls, a scream echoing from someone nearby. 

And amongst it all, as Aruna’s heart begins to race at the action, a realization strikes her. 

P.S. DO NOT FORGET – SAVE ASTARION. 

She hadn’t been sure of what to do with that in the last day, when they weren’t in danger. When it was nothing more than brains with legs and small bickering amongst the camp so far that posed the most threat, Aruna couldn’t comprehend why she was supposed to save the elf that clearly had an upper hand with his skilled hands and sharp daggers. 

But here, watching the beginnings of a battle unfold, she understood. 

Maybe this was it. Maybe this was the danger. 

Astarion is hardly a breath of a step ahead of her, crouched into a thicker part of the bush. Closer to the action – closer to the danger. Her hand flies out to land on his bicep without another thought.

“What are you-” he turns to look at her, clearly startled, but she’s determined.

He gets on her nerves. He’s impossible to read at times. She’s pretty sure he’d betray her the moment a better option of safety arose. But the letter said to save him, so save him she shall. 

“Get behind me,” she commands in a low voice, leaving no room for argument.

He still finds the space to argue. Of course he does. 

“Excuse me? I am not-” he begins to hiss at her, but he’s cut off when one of those wretched goblins have climbed to the top of the hill. 

They were only looking for higher ground, but Aruna isn’t quite as well-hidden as the rest of them. 

“Well, well, well,” the goblin snarls, “Thought yourself sneaky, did ‘ya?” 

She only sees Aruna. Not Gale, not Shadowheart. And most importantly – not Astarion. 

Her hands fly to her daggers just as the goblin reaches onto her back and produces a bow. At the sight of it, Aruna’s stomach plummets. She can hardly wield her daggers against brains – better than someone who’s never held a weapon a day in their life, but not by much. And her daggers are for close fights; that bow will end her life without the goblin having to take so much as another step towards her. 

Aruna has the disadvantage here; Aruna is going to die here. 

She still lets her shaking fingers wrap around the hilt of her dagger, deciding it’s better to go down with a fight rather than simply lay here and die, but then-

The goblin hardly had the time to string her bow, an arrow not even properly secured in it, when two daggers are easily cutting through the skin of her neck. 

Aruna hadn’t even noticed Astarion move, as if he had blended in with shadows she hadn’t seen existing on this hilltop. One moment, he’d been beside her, and now he stood behind the goblin, holding on for an extra moment before he let the lifeless body drop. 

“You expect me to believe I should allow you to protect me,” he nearly spits out, looking at her less in anger and more in disbelief, “When you just nearly got yourself killed.”

“I had it under contro-” she starts to argue back, but she cuts herself off when she looks over his shoulder. Most of the goblins and other creatures are focused on the four humans below, a new helping hand having joined them as he blasts his foes with red strikes that resemble lightning, but across the way stands a goblin with his eyes narrowed right at Aruna and Astarion. He’s quick, his arrow firing off in their direction just as Aruna notices him, “Duck!”

For once, Astarion doesn’t argue. Thank the Nine Realms. 

He drops to the ground with perfect timing, the arrow narrowly missing his back before it pierces the ground just beside Astarion’s splayed hand. 

In his shock, Aruna makes an easy decision. 

Fuck the daggers. 

Her magic still burns in her veins, humming gleefully as she calls to it with an outstretched palm and her focus set on the goblin that had sent the arrow in Astarion’s direction.

DO NOT FORGET – SAVE ASTARION. 

It’s the only thing on her mind as she recalls incantations that had fallen from Gale’s lips just the day prior, and she repeats them effortlessly, “Tormentum.” 

In an instant, three red spheres burst from her palm in a straight line, heading straight to the goblin.

They hit him without miss, in the center of his chest, back to back. 

Just as Astarion is rising back to his full height, he witnesses the goblin fall to her magic. His neck nearly snaps with the speed in which he looks back to her, “You have magic? Bloody Hells-”

She ignores his outburst, quickly slipping herself in front of him on the cliff’s edge, making herself all but a meat shield for the quick-footed elf. Most attention continues to evade them, but she’s able to spot the next goblin that has set his sights on them before he has a chance to draw his weapon in their direction. This time, as she outstretches her hand in his direction, she decides to shout a different spell.

“Ignis!” 

She’s more confident this time, power thrumming through her as the familiar bolt of a flame flies from her fingertips and heads straight for their enemy. Her aim is less on par, but it doesn’t matter – even when the flame hits the goblin’s legs rather than chest, the sparks of the magic catch fire to everything around it, effectively burning the goblin to nothing more than ash and bone. 

She can’t tell if her heart is racing with exhilaration of using her magic – magic she knows for sure now that was never learned nor gifted to her by some deity, but is hers entirely – or if it’s from the fear of keeping Astarion safe. 

And he’s making the latter exceptionally more likely when one of the creatures that resemble a distorted wolf finally looks up to them with bloodlust in its eyes, and he’s quick to step out from behind her. 

“No,” she gasps, turning to him just long enough that when she looks back, the animal is already clambering up the stones, nearly arriving to them, “Astarion, do not-”

All at once, it feels as though she loses control of her magic. As though it’s reached such extensive heights that her grasp on it slips, and between that and her swirling emotions, she has no control over what happens next. 

Her mind is a mess. Between the power, the worry of this being what she was meant to be saving Astarion from, the anxiety of him no longer being behind her so that she could fool herself into thinking she might be capable of shielding him – it’s a mess. 

Not a single incantation has to fall from her lips when the magic erupts from her, turning the innocent plants around them into enchanted greenery. Viscous vines, glowing as they ensnare both the creature clambering up to them and Aruna. 

They should have ensnared Astarion too. She thinks they’ve done as much until she watches him dart down to where the animal is one step below, and his daggers find deathly purchase in its fur. 

Blood splatters about the vines that Astarion is still able to avoid somehow, and when he pulls back, the creature falls just as limply as that goblin did. 

He looks up at her, small spatters of the blood marking his cheeks, a smug grin painted across his face, “As you were saying?” 

Damn him. Damn him to the deepest depths of the Hells, and back. 

“I… You…” she can’t finish her snappy comeback, can’t even formulate a proper thought as a sudden drain from her use of magic hits her all at once. The snarling vines still encase her lower half, and her headache blooms so painfully that she fears she might lose consciousness from it. 

The grin is short-lived when he realizes what is inevitably about to happen once her own self-made trap lets her go. 

He’s at her side before the vines have even finished retreating, catching her just before she tumbles over the edge of the small cliff. He yanks her backward, leveraging himself behind her for a moment so that she’s flush his chest before he spins. Suddenly, roles have been reversed. Astarion has become the meatshield, and she doesn’t even have the energy to fight it. 

“Gale,” his voice is stoic as he nearly carries her, “Shadowheart. Be dears and take over for us on the front lines, yes?” 

There’s not much more fight to be had. Between the goblin and creature Astarion had taken down, and the two goblins that Aruna’s magic had fell, the fight is mostly left up to the humans below.

Gale and Shadowheart listen to Astarion regardless. 

He manages to get them to the tree where the other two had been hiding with ease, finally maneuvering her so that she’s leaning against its bark. When she slides down to sit on the ground, it leaves biting scratches that she feels the sting of, even through her clothing. 

“I’m fine,” she gasps out, a clear lie when the edges of her vision were still spotted, “I’m fine, just let me-”

When she goes to stand, he’s quick to press two cold palms on each shoulder. Had he always been so cold? 

“Not so fast, my magical friend,” Astarion tuts, crouching to be eye level with her, “I’m sure the wizard will suffice in ending the bloodbath. He can walk without a helping hand.” 

“I’m fine,” she repeats herself, but it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than him. 

At the edge of the hill, Gale is firing off magic missiles, just as Aruna had been. 

Astarion’s entire face goes hard, and she realizes that this may not be a fight she’ll win. His sarcasm is venomous as he says, “Ah, yes. You’re currently the picture of health – impossibly pale in the face, too weak to stand on your own, eyes so dazed I highly doubt you’d be able to tell me how many fingers I’m holding up. Shall I go on?”

Her silence is his answer.

“Now, I’m far more concerned with the fact that you have magic. And lots of it, if we’re to go off of your little display with the vines. When exactly were you planning on sharing that with the class?” 

“Gale and Shadowheart already know,” her vision is finally fully coming back to her, entirely focused on Astarion’s face, centimeters from her own, “It’s not my problem you were more concerned with insulting my mapping skills last night rather than asking more personal questions.” 

“You wound me. Is there nothing more personal than sharpening charcoal for someone who’s deficient with their own daggers?”

“Go to Hell.”

Gods, they were going to end up fighting each other, letter be damned, before she ever figured out the truth behind her mysterious savior quest. Maybe the true meaning was for her to avoid burying her daggers into his chest. Save him from her, it seems. 

Astarion only smiles at her, leaning back, creating distance as his palms fall from her, “I’ve already been, my dear. Can’t say I enjoyed it.”

She rolls her eyes, and it worsens the pounding in her temples, but it’s worth it.

At the most opportune of times, Gale and Shadowheart return back to their sides. Gale is the epitome of worry as he kneels beside her where she continues to sit against the tree trunk, and Shadowheart’s eyes are already examining her for wounds.

“Are you hurt?” Shadowheart’s words come out harsh, but only with concern.

“Never been better.”

“She could have killed us both with those enchanted vines,” Astarion says, although no one certainly asked him.

“I might have some salve back at camp for any rash from the vines-”

“She could have gotten us all killed.” 

Shadowheart is ignoring Astarion with ease as Gale lifts each of her arms methodically, flipping them as if to assure that there really isn’t any injury. 

“That wasn’t my intention,” she whispers, being the only one to acknowledge Astarion even though his anger is clearly directed at her, “I just- I don’t know why my magic did that.”

Gale’s eyebrows shoot up at that, “Did what exactly?” 

Astarion’s glare is hard to ignore, but Aruna manages as she swallows hard and chooses to focus on the wizard offering her far more kindness for the time being.

“I was using incantations – just, I guess I knew them from you, hearing you use them during the fights yesterday. But then, suddenly, I just… I just…”

“Decided that enchanted vines were the solution.”

“I don’t know how I did that, Astarion.” 

She really, really doesn’t. That surge of magic had ripped from her unpredictably, tearing out of her veins as if she couldn’t stop it if she tried. She doesn’t even know what incantation could conjure those dangerous plants.

“Interesting,” Gale murmurs, leaning back on his heel. He looks far less concerned than Aruna feels, “Very interesting, indeed.” 

She’s beginning to recognize that look – the look of a hungry mind. She’s starting to believe that every time it crosses Gale’s face, it’s actually just spelling out trouble for her. 

“You’re not going to elaborate on why it’s all so interesting, are you?” she asks with a sigh, deflating in defeat.

He shakes his head, a smile still on his lips. “Not a chance – not here, at least. Perhaps it’s a better conversation to have at camp.” 

Her eyes dart up to Astarion first, against better judgment considering he still looks to be fairly irritated, and then to Shadowheart. Eventually, though, her line of sight wanders to that gate covered in vines. Normal vines, not magical. 

Whatever that gate was protecting, she’d bet all two gold pieces in her pack that it was a civilization. That there was a healer. 

Her problems could wait.

“Fine,” she says, digging the heels of her palms into the ground and beginning to stand. She doesn’t miss the way Astarion flinches, hands twitching as if readied to catch her despite his angry facade. “Keep your secrets, o’ wise old wizard. For now, I think we have a healer to find.” 

Gale frowns, but over his shoulder, she can see Astarion lose the fight against his amusement in her words. 

At least he still finds her funny, even after she nearly ‘got them all killed’, as he had so eloquently put it. 

—

Emerald Grove. 

It’s an interesting place, to say the least. 

When they approach the gate (after carefully descending down the hill, during which Astarion’s hands continued to stay near Aruna in case of any more fainting episodes), the tiefling manning the wheel above opens it without question for them. They fall into a formation eerily similar to the one they’d approached the fight in – Shadowheart and Gale bringing up the rear, and Astarion sticking to Aruna’s side. He keeps a little distance, but hardly much.

She’s sort of glad that it’s him, of all the companions, that’s choosing to be her shadow. As they walk through the short tunnel to properly enter the grove, he’s the only one to breathlessly laugh as she jokes, “Think we’re about to get a hero’s welcome?” 

She likes his laugh. Painful to admit, but she can’t deny that her heart swells with a specific type of pride when she hears it fall from his lips, even in a whisper. 

Besides, it’s far more encouraging than Gale’s, “I sincerely hope you know what you’re doing.” 

She doesn’t respond to that comment. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. 

One of the tieflings she’d caught sight of fighting during the battle stands just uphill of the entrance, face to face with one of the humans. An obvious new fight is taking place. 

She can feel Gale falter in his steps behind her as she approaches, even Shadowheart slowing in her faithful following. The only person who sticks by her side is Astarion. Probably just eager to see if they can make it worse, really. 

“There are children here, you fool!” 

The tiefling is furious. And it almost frightens Aruna for a second, until she feels that reassuring presence of the elf that had just saved her life at her back. If things go south, she’s sure Astarion will be the first to draw his weapon. Whether it’s for her safety or not, she’s quickly learning that it might benefit her to have a dagger-happy friend on her side. 

“We was running, for our lives.” 

The human is red in his face, voice breathless, still clearly recovering from the fight outside the gate. If Aruna was wise, she’d hang back and not interrupt this argument.

Wisdom isn’t her forte, she guesses. 

“You led them straight to us. And you let them take the druid, too. Unbelievable!” 

Druid? Had the goblins taken any hostages? By the looks of the bloodbath outside, it hadn’t seemed like there were any survivors to take a hostage. 

Astarion closes the space between them even further as she steps up to the plate. She could ask about the druid, point out her astute observation, but her quick tongue works faster than her mind does. 

“One fight just ended, and the two of you are already picking another one?” she questions, eyeing both of them in disbelief, “Relax.” 

Astarion snorts at that. Ever so helpful. 

“Tell that to the dead at the gate,” the tiefling snarks back in a low tone, his glare hardening further on the human before him. 

“Shut it, horns. I’d be lying dead at the gate next to the goblins if you’d stalled any longer.” 

And- well, the human has a point. Aruna has no idea what dynamic is at play here, but the human would have been dead if everyone inside the safety of the gate that had chosen to aid them had put off intervening any sooner. 

She’d also be dead, possibly. Astarion as well. The thought alone sends a shiver of fright up her spine. 

“My duty is to this camp,” the tiefling anger grows to palpable levels, enough that Aruna is carefully taking the slightest step back. 

Unfortunate for her, her shadow seems to be getting more comfortable with impossible closeness. It’s a small step that would’ve gone entirely unnoticed, but her foot finds purchase on top of his as her back brushes in near collision with his chest. She’s quick to glance over his shoulder, expecting some sort of reaction, but he’s still as stone. If her stepping on his foot has caused him even the slightest bit of pain, she can’t see it as his focus remains entirely on the fight in front of them. She even glances down to see that his palm is already hovering over the hilt of one of his daggers. 

Yes, indeed. Having a dagger-happy friend on her side was going to be very beneficial. 

“God forbid you risk your precious tail,” the human sneers, and Gods, she notices all the jabs he’s making endlessly at the other’s race. Low blow after low blow, she’s starting to wonder if these two men even have any sort of alliance to begin with, “But I shouldn’t be surprised. Foulbloods ain’t known for courage.” 

She has no memory nor reason to feel defensive over tieflings. She’s unaware of the deeper history at play. But as far as she knows, tieflings are nothing more than another race in this world that she’s being forced to relearn. Horns and tails, sure, but foulblood? 

It’s as if Astarion can feel her defensiveness beginning to boil beneath the surface. 

“Do not,” he whispers to her in a low tone, face still impassive as he presses himself just close enough so that she’s the only one that can hear him, “Get involved in this. Unless, of course, you’re going to swing on one of the poor saps. In that case, I fully support you, my dear.” 

It’s certainly a tempting idea. Part of her wonders how it would feel to crack her knuckles against the face of the human, to wipe the indignation right off his face. But he has a point. And so does the tiefling. She can’t just pick a side – she can’t just choose given what she knows of the situation.

Aruna is well aware that Astarion’s insistence for her to not get involved is probably to avoid him having to carry any extra load, to have to come to her rescue if her punch doesn’t land. He couldn’t care less about the entire ordeal. It’s not his problem unless Aruna makes it his problem. 

If she doesn’t swing, however, she knows one of the men before her will. She can see it easily in their faces. Both twitching with anger, both buzzing with hatred. She needs to diffuse the situation, and quickly.

In her most persuasive tone she can muster, she interjects, much to Astarion’s disapproval, “More violence won’t bring back those you lost. Stop and think.”

She ends the plea in a bit more desperation than she means to, but only because her mind has begun to run a mile a minute in considering what a fight breaking out between the two might mean.

More danger. More fighting. More possible situations in which she’s supposed to save Astarion. 

“You’re right,” the tiefling’s eyes flicker to her as he sighs, and she’s realized that her words have worked, “There’s too much at stake.” 

“Worried about your precious hides. The both of you.” 

Her words have worked on the tiefling. Not the human, clearly. 

She braces herself as the fight begins to feel just a little too inevitable, and out of reassurance to herself, she decides to glance back down at Astarion’s hand by his dagger. It’s no longer just hovering – he’s fully made contact, fingers curling eagerly around the leather grip. He’s tense as ever, but not with the same anxiety that Aruna is. His tenseness is simply readiness. It dawns on her momentarily that whoever wrote that note to her, whoever tasked her with saving him, is an absolute idiot. It’s becoming abundantly clear with every moment they spend together that Astarion is the one more equipped to save her than she is him. 

She’s so caught up in the thought that she misses the resolution of the argument, some exchange of words that unexpectedly lead to both men walking away. And embarrassingly, she only notices when Astarion’s fingers release his dagger, flexing for a second, before wiggling as if taunting her.

“See something you like?” he practically purrs, suddenly too close for comfort.

She jumps, stepping forward into the new empty clearing before them and giving herself a little space to simply breathe. Shadowheart looks entirely unimpressed when Aruna looks to their companions for help, and Gale only shrugs. 

She spins to face Astarion head on now, trying to even her breathing, “Never. Someone just has to make sure you don’t go on a stabbing spree for your own entertainment.” 

“Oh, mother may I?” he taunts, stepping forward and making her effort of space entirely useless. He’s fast to unsheath a dagger, twirling it in his hand, blade flashing in the sunlight. She knows he’s not going to do anything with it, though. Not when his face melts into something a little more serious, a little more genuine, “You do realize we’ll never find a cure to our little…. problems if you try to involve yourself in every fight we come across?”

Yes. “It might do us well to have a few favors to call in. Just in case.” 

“I highly doubt either of those men would offer us a favor for your interjection.” 

“Guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?” 

The tiefling is hanging back, not far off from there, and she senses he’s only staying back for the time being due to the way Astarion still holds his blade, carelessly letting it wave around during their conversation. And she’s starting to sense it’s purposeful on Astarion’s part. 

He presses his lips together tightly as he looks down at her, garnet eyes flashing momentarily before he simply gives in. He’s picking his battles to win the war. “I suppose we will. And I do suppose you’re wanting to talk to that tiefling now, aren’t you?” 

She answers wordlessly with a smile as he sheaths his dagger. He’s learning quickly.

[rat-butch]

also tumblr stop putting self righteous 16yos in my dash challenge!!! i literally could not care less what people you find disgusting or what kink you deem right or wrong, learn to use your fucking block button instead of accusing other people of vile shit because they ship certain people together