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violetasteracademic · 30 days

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Why do you think gwyn would be added as a love interest for azriel if they don’t end up as endgame? Why complicate the love triangle between elain/lucien/azriel?

Hello my lovely anon!

It can sometimes be hard to tell where the anonymous asks in my inbox are coming from. It is never my intention to argue or try to convince any other ships why they are wrong. I tag my work very carefully, ask my beloved rebloggers to do the same, and just want to stay in a cozy bubble. I think all ships are allowed, and the time I spend here breaking down the text and providing analysis is only for fun and comfort. I don't ever want or wish for my posts to end up in the wrong tags. Now that I've gotten that disclaimer out of the way, this is an ask where I can't *totally* tell what perspective it is coming from, but I am assuming it is being asked in good faith and I will answer how I typically do.

Point blank, I do not believe G/wyn was introduced as a love interest. Only Elain was.

I don't really know that I have anything else to add to that conversation, because people either think it was romantic or it wasn't. But I will say that I assume we can all agree on all sides that the bonus chapter is what led to the fervor of the G/wynriel ship as G/wyn quite literally replacing Elain as the romantic interest and not just a fun, enjoyable ship for those who don't jive with Elriel and want to carve out a space for themselves in the fandom. And as someone who has read all of SJM's bonus chapters and not just this one, I'm going to provide side by side comparisons using *only* bonus chapters that I can almost guarantee many people have not read- since most people don't read the bonus chapters. I still get comments on old tiktoks every day asking what the Azriel bonus chapter is and where to find it. And not once have I ever been asked about the myriad of other BC's out there.

Crescent City Spoilers ahead:

House of Sky and Breath has three bonus chapters. There is one in particular that is almost a carbon copy of G/wyn and Azriel's portion in his POV bonus, and it is the Tharion POV chapter with Hypaxia:

^^Both men head to a place where they assumed they would be alone, minds heavy and restless and needing to work off some tension before they could sleep- only to find their space already occupied.

^^They both flounder a bit with social niceties, awkwardness, being polite, the other person clearly wanting to be alone, and yet wind up falling into a conversation anyway.

^^ Both pairs experience surprise at being asked questions no one has ever asked them before. They also reveal information about themselves- and notably- both bonus chapters reveal heavy backstory or indications about unique or hidden powers.

^^ Both men experience some sort of lingering sensation that they could have sworn was happening after saying goodnight.

And last but not least:

Both Tharion and Azriel end on a particularly strong emotional note. Tharion is passing notes through Fitz back and forth with Hypaxia. He notes how he has never had such an instant, honest, and deep connection. He won't let anyone interfere with her birthright, and if she was in danger, he would risk everything he had to protect Hypaxia.

Azriel is secretly regifting a necklace to Gwyn, and feels truly happy at the thought that it might make her happy. He likes and respects her and is glad to think of being able to make her smile. (I of course think there is a reason for this, which I've broken down here but I also don't think it's necessary to minimize their friendship for this post.)

If you look at these two bonus chapters side by side, they are literally a copy and paste. Two people needing to be alone and winding up together, talking about things they have never talked about anyone with, and both men really powerfully feeling the strength and depth of a connection. And if you read Tharion's chapter in full, there are actually way more details of him talking about how beautiful and gorgeous she is, and how he has to stop himself from going down that road. But did this set up Hypaxia and Tharion as romantic love interests?

Nope. Hypaxia is queer as queer can be. Kitty only on her menu. But they develop a very genuine and close friendship. Because the thing is, SJM writes an incredible amount of deep and meaningful friendships between men and women. And they are always a blend of emotion, intimacy, a bit fun and flirty, full of banter, and true trust and connection. So as far as BC's, Azriel and G/wyn and Tharion and Hypaxia are the only comparable ones in her catalogue. And they are pretty damn comparable. It's also important to note that the Tharion and Hypaxia bonus chapter was included in the book where she is very much revealed as 100% queer and not even a little bi, so it's not like SJM was trying to create a red herring or a conversation. That's just how she writes her hetero platonic friendships. Take it up with her, man.

Meanwhile, the things that make it clear that a romantic interest is being introduced occurs in the Elain portion, and can be directly compared to the Nessian bonus chapter. Both men being willing to beg on their knees for a taste. Both men absolutely losing their minds over Elain and Nesta's scents. Both men knowing it was wrong, it was stupid, but being unable to stop themselves anyway. Both men having issues of what their family would think if they found out introduced (only Rhys DID find out and laid down that forbidden romance hard.)

Here's the thing- many people read Elain and Azriel as romantic for over four books and there were people out there like, nah, I don't see it, they are more like brother and sister. And then the bonus chapter confirmed, no, actually, they are wildly down bad and desperate for each other. Wanting to taste and touch and kiss each other- romantic interest confirmation. Fun and banter-y conversation occurring because two people needed to be alone but actually wound up in the same vicinity as someone else and had a deep conversation and talked about things they've never spoken about with anyone before-Platonic friendship. You can disagree. But it doesn't change the fact that right now, a group of fans are interpreting G/wyn and Azriel's interactions as romantic, and preferring it to Elain and Azriel's confirmed romantic interactions.

Sarah did not add G/wyn as a love interest and complicate things. The fandom did. Until Azriel is not sleeping, not thinking clearly, down bad desperate to get on his knees for G/wyn- and until G/wyn leans into his touch and says yes, they are actually currently friends. Could that change in the future? Totally. But Sarah literally has not written it yet.

I don't mind that the G/wyn ship exists. I love her. I have real life G/wynriel friends who are not online like we are. They are good people with good hearts who have different taste in Azriel's potential romance than me. They don't ride at dawn for Elain like I do, nor are they violently misogynistic against her or being toxic and hateful towards other women online. They just liked G/wyn's story and want more of her. That's okay. But it is important to pay attention to what has actually been written vs. what is being assumed by a group of people that openly dislike the only female character remaining with a confirmed book and who has been confirmed as a love interest.

Read Sarah's other bonus chapters! They are fun. Azriel's isn't the only one that has ever existed, but it seems like that sometimes (and I'll admit, it's amazing and I love it so fair). And nothing happened in the bonus chapter that is going to change the course or foreshadow to anything new. Not everyone has access to them, and bonus chapters do not create new plot. They are just an incentive to make money and secure pre-orders.

I think that's everything! You guys are awesome for reading these insanely long posts and vibing with me here. ily.

#elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #tharion and hypaxia #elain and azriel

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erinwantstowrite · 3 months

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Let me just quickly say, cross-overs can sometimes get REALLY difficult to map out and write in a cohesive way but you have absolutely NAILED IT!! I absolutely ADORE LoF!!! I usually don’t even bother reading fics with the ‘Richard Grayson is Richard Parker’ premise cause I felt like they were super confusing and overcomplicated but this fic?? SUPERB. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE. OH MY GOD I ADORE IT. Everyone’s characterizations are so nice and wonderful aaaaaaah!!!! <33333

Ok ok I did actually have a question as well: would you be willing to share what your writing process looks like in terms of a chapter you’ve already posted? I was just wondering since I’m also currently working on my own fic (it’s been a few years but I managed to get fixated on an idea and it grew legs lol) and I’m currently fighting the organization of it haha.

How do you keep track of the plot points and/or foreshadowing you want to get a ‘lightbulb!’ moment for later? Do you have any tips?

Thank you so much! I absolutely adore your writing AND your art is so gorgeous omg it adds so much to the incredible story :DDD I hope you have a good day!!

I have a secret: I actually didn't like "Richard Grayson is Richard Parker' tag for a while for the same reason. Sometimes they felt like they missed the mark or it's just. A thing that's there? I almost didn't include it for LoF, but I'm glad I did because it changed the direction in such a big way.

Another secret: this made me incredibly happy because I have read so many wikis and scoured the internet to make sure that I had enough info on both fandoms so LoF could make sense to anyone who's reading it, whether they know Spider-Man, Batfam, or neither at all. Sometimes I worry a lot before I post that I'll miss a mark and will confuse people.

As for the question: I definitely am willing to share what my writing process looks like!

Be prepared for under the cut, I love to yap. It's in my blood to yap. And that's why it took a minute to get to this ask haha

(Spoilers for Leap of Faith!! Everything mentioned has already been published ((Chapters 1-11))

I had to go and find out which chapter I wanted to use as an example and I think we're gonna go with Chapter 5 for the most part :)

My writing process is, as described by alighterwood:

I think the description fits because while I'm all over the place, I have to be very detail oriented and I store everything in one spot.

Starting with the overall process, what I find is most helpful for me, when organizing, is having a notebook rather than doing it all digitally. I've been using a 70 sheet notebook that I had lying around waiting to be used, and as of yesterday, I officially filled the entire thing front to back. It's been an incredible help, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it's a lot easier to remember something I physically wrote down than it is to remember something I typed. I'm now on to my second notebook for LoF, and I might even have to get a third.

In another ask, startupkat asked me this:

And I shared a little about my outline process there, but I'll try to go into a little more depth here. Emphasis on little because this is so long.

I write a truly insane amount of outlines in this notebook.

This is just what I can show you, but a good chunk of the notebook is just outlines. Over and over and over again. That's because they're always changing/adapting based on so many different factors. Sometimes I get to a chapter I thought I had fully planned out and then realize it just doesn't work anymore. Other times, I get to the chapter and realize I don't want to write that anymore/isn't as interesting as I thought it would be. A few times I got halfway through a POV of a scene I was struggling on and decided to switch POV's, which will change up the outline for a chapter every now and then.

Which is why I don't write incredibly detailed outlines and try to keep it vague until I actually get to that chapter. It's a lot less daunting to rewrite a chapter outline than it is to rewrite the entire outline.

Fic outlines and Chapter outlines look a lot alike.

This is what I said in the other ask, but I didn't elaborate on it all the way.

I make a list just like that, and then I try to put it in chronological order/in an order that makes sense. I keep the Fic outline vague by writing down "Goals" for a chapter rather than scenes. But I also keep notes to myself if I really think something is important. The more important I think a scene needs to be, the more details I write down to make sure my future self recalls what I had in mind when I thought it up.

Really simple example:

Chap 1 Goal: Peter gets to Gotham and meets Babs while running around. Meet Nightwing too? Get shelter.

Chapter 2 Goal: Bats are like "???" about Peter. Batfam dynamic important... Peter stalking Batfam back? Peter meet Batman >:)

When I get to a chapter, that's when I make a far more detailed list of wants/needs/goals. It's the Step 2 from the Step 1. Here are some examples from Chapter 5:

Needed to have:

More POV's from universe 1299 (Peter's home universe)

Tony's POV more specifically, how he's doing/feeling, what he's figured out

What they've figured out on 1299 side vs what's going on in 1300 (Gotham)

Explaining more about Peter's trauma/his past

Dick learning more about Peter, and vise versa

Wanted to have:

Ned being a more central character

Natasha :)

Loki being a little shit

Tony and Cap bickering

Peter talking to Nightwing again

The last name Grayson

Gymnastics!!

(This is the shortened list, because the chapters are so long)

When I looked at this list before writing my outline, I had to figure out how I could incorporate everything. If I needed more 1299 POV's, and I wanted Ned, Natasha, and Loki, there's one scene accounted for. I had to get their side of things and wanted that trio together. I needed a Tony POV, and I wanted Tony and Cap bickering, so those went together, plus I got 1299's POV of Ohnn and his plans explained.

I needed to have Peter explaining more about his trauma, and Dick and Peter to talk/get closer. I wanted a Nightwing POV, to have Peter say his last name, and them doing gymnastics. I knew Peter wouldn't willingly talk about that, so I had him have a nightmare. Not only did it give readers perspective but it made Peter more susceptible to talking to Nightwing because he was more emotionally vulnerable/lonely, and that's how that scene came together.

That's when I would write down the chronological order of these events by writing out "Scene Blocks." (This is what I wrote down but my handwriting was so bad I can't subject y'all to it):

scene 1- Ned talking to Loki. Natasha should be nearby and observing Loki's behavior. They are not on friendly terms. Ned is more worried about Peter than he is as to what Loki could be up to, so Natasha takes on that role.

scene 2- Tony is freaking out about Peter being in an alt dimension. He should attack Ohnn when he's not prepared for it. Beat his ass? Beat his ass. Cap there too.

scene 3- Peter's nightmare. "Ben, where do you go when you die?" "Where do you think?" "With you. Where you went."

scene 4- Nightwing and Peter.

Of course, things come to attention when writing. Like originally, Tony and Cap were arguing in the Tower. But it was a little too much like his and Natasha's argument, and I kept in mind that Tony is smart. Sometimes I forget that the characters are smarter than I am, so I have to account for what they would figure out. So Tony would have picked up the puzzle pieces and come to more conclusions than I originally thought about, and I figured he'd be way more proactive about it than just. Being in the Tower and waiting.

Which means that that scene ended up being as listed above: having a squabble with Cap, learning more about Peter's dynamic with the Avengers in this universe, and seeing how Tony is reacting to it by throwing himself head first into trying to capture Ohnn.

I'll realize I need something else to be mentioned or put in and I'll have to shimmy things around, but that's basically how it goes.

As for other forms of organization:

Keeping a timeline is so important because it tells you a lot about the environment your characters are in. It's also important to remember what a character has on them, what money they've spent, who they've met/who you have mentioned, every alias that is being used, to read your work and write down edits you want to make before you make them, to write down ideas beforehand of situations you can use, and, most importantly: MAKE A MAP!! This has saved me so many times. Sometimes your brain WILL trick you or make it harder on you to envision a scene. Make a map of where your characters are physically!! It will save you too!!

As for foreshadowing and plot points, I'll let you in on yet another secret:

Your subconscious is doing a lot more than you think it is.

Sometimes when I foreshadow something, I didn't even know I was until I got to it. I very often go back to read chapters that came before this to see what I've mentioned and what I haven't, and when I do, I'll see something and go "I have to bring this back" or "I almost forgot about that!"

Other times, I am very aware of what I'm foreshadowing, and that's because I follow a mystery plot formula. You have to keep in mind everyone's intentions, all the time. How are they feeling? What are their motivations? And: what are they doing right now, while this character is doing this?

Like Beck and Ohnn. From the very beginning, I knew I had to make sure that it was obvious Ohnn wasn't working alone. From there, I had to weave through the story and slowly build him up as someone who's working behind the scenes. Even from Ned's first POV, I made sure to mention that this person knows Tony and is tech savvy.

My biggest tip is to make sure you reread your work or at least skip through it, because sometimes you don't even know that you placed something there.

And sometimes, it's very purposeful. :)

I hope this helped! I really tried to keep it short but I am insane and the process is sooooo long. It sounds complicated but it really is simple when you're actually doing it I swear

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aziraphales-library · 4 months

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hi! i don't know if this ask has been done before but do you have any comedy fic recs? i've had enough of angst for a bit and i just want to read aziracrow bicker and laugh out loud :))

Hey. We have #humour, #humor, #crack, and #bickering tags, for all your laughing needs. Here are more to add...

Seamstress of Soho by GayDemonicDisaster (M)

Season 2 spoilers! When Mrs. Sandwich spots a suspicious new guy apparently lurking on her turf, the misunderstanding leads to an unlikely friendship between the ‘seamstress’ and a demon. So in episode 6 we see that Mrs. Sandwich is clearly at ease with Crowley and he with her, enough to share a joke together. Combine that with the curious sign on her door which might just be referring to Crowley, and we have a little buddy comedy in the making. I decided to explore the backstory of how they came to know one another between season 1 and the beginning of season 2. While this little comedy is about sex workers, there is NO sex in it, and rated M solely for oblique references to things like contraceptive devices and so on - honestly it could get away with a “teen and up” rating but I like to err on the side of caution.

Pass the Remote, Angel by Mrs_Cake_Is_Here (M)

Aziraphale has returned to Heaven, leaving Crowley a tv binge-watching wreck. However, healing can come from the most unlikeliest of places. While Muriel has been instructed to provide daily reports of the demon’s emotional state, they find that sharing time together, even by watching a scary show, can be the catalyst that builds friendships. And they’d probably both be couch potatoes by now if the Supreme Archangel hadn’t just gone missing.

Christmas Lights by FuzzyGoblin (T)

Christmas Lights is on the agenda at the monthly meeting of the Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association, but it's not the only thing on Mr Brown's, of Brown's World of Carpets, mind. As he pines for the mysterious bookseller, his efforts are thwarted by the tall ginger goth.

The Book Thieves by ThingsJustHappenSometimes (T)

“Did they steal it? Professional book thieves, probably going around in their car stealing books.” Be careful what you tell an adolescent antichrist who has the ability to warp reality, he might just make things real. - - - Featuring: A confused ineffable duo in ridiculous costumes, a presumed relationship, overpowered magical books, meddling humans, multiple chase scenes, and a generally all around silly action-packed time. - - - [If you like 1920s Costumes, Indiana Jones, Isekai Vibes, and/or That-One-Auction-Heist-Scene from Uncharted 4, you’ll like this story.]

Rattle Those Pots & Pans by Mackaley (M)

“My instructions…” He parted his mouth as he searched for a word. “Instruct that I just get right into it. You all have been brought here tonight because you have one thing in common: you’re all being blackmailed.” A tense hush fell through the room. “You’re all paying what you can afford - in some cases I’m sure more than you can afford - to prevent your secrets from being exposed. And none of you know who is currently blackmailing you.” Gabriel scoffed. “This is ridiculous. I’m an upstanding member of the international finance community - what could I possibly have done to be blackmailed about?” “You’re a member of the international finance community,” Crowley drawled. ----- A Good Omens Clue (1985) AU

through the tides by viperinz (T)

With that thought, Aziraphale takes to asking experts if his feelings are something more or just love for his dearest, most sweetest friend. If he wasn’t sure himself, then surely the experts on the internet will have something for him. Which brings him to the front of his computer, ready to search something up on the search engine he has pulled up. He’s not one to ask too many questions, but he supposes it won’t hurt. He starts typing, and is satisfied with his search of "Am I in love with my best friend?" Straight to the point, and very concise. Aziraphale has no doubt he’ll find what he’s looking for. He presses enter on the keyboard, and a bunch of results flood in. “Oh, dear,” he gasps at the mass amount of answers. Where is he supposed to start?

Aziraphale discovers the wonderful world of online love quizzes and WikiHow, all in the process of wooing and confessing his love to Crowley.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #humour #mod d

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megamindsecretlair · 1 year

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Megamind's Secret Files

Formally posted on MegamindsLair.

All fics are Black/Fem coded. All fics are consensual.

Rules and Navigation:

Welcome! Thank you so much for being interested in my blog! I want to make this a safe space for everyone. Please heed all warnings on all my posts. Consider changing your icon and header to prove you're human. Add ages so I can be sure minors are not interacting with my blog.

Anon asks are turned on but don't abuse it with slurs, insults, or demands. Don't make me act out character because you have a stick up your butt. Scroll, move on, or block me. Simple as that. This is where I go to act up and I will not be bullied in my own safe space.

This is for GROWN-GROWN folks. I post adult content and it's incredibly rude to ignore my multiple warnings for minors not to interact.

Requests are tentatively open but please know that I have a hectic home life, a squirrel brain, and multiple issues that prevent me from getting to requests quickly. If you submit a request, I have the right to refuse, deny, or take my time to let the story marinate before writing it. I am not a machine. Please be patient with me.

I do not, have not, can not, and will not write for Michael B Jordan. Thank you for understanding 😗

My tags are all over the place. But generally, you can find:

#Megaminds Updates - general updates about my fics or life in general

#Megaminds Asks - useful for anon asks

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#Megaminds Reblogs - not sure about my stories? You can find reactions from lovelies who took the time to reblog and comment. May contain spoilers for the story.

#Megaminds Zooted Hours - I am unhinged during these hours. More so than usual.

Likes are always appreciated, but it's hard to know if you liked the story based on that. Please consider reblogging and commenting to support writers! Liking it means you like it and you're the only one who gets to see it. Reblogging it means you want others to read it too!

No Big Deal Original Writing

How to get on my taglist!

The Secret Loki Files

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WARNING: multiple uses of the n-word. Coded for Tyrone/Los Angeles

The Secret Tyrone Files

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WARNING: multiple uses of the n-word

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Warning - can turn dark but always consensual. When not stated otherwise, Ghostface is usually anonymous and coded Black.

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(all my white boys with too many fandoms to list)

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Thank you so much for being interested. Happy reading!

How to get on my taglist!

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fangsandfracturedhearts · 9 months

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Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 4: Little Lamb

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6K

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

As soon as you make it out of the city to a secluded spot, you fall to your knees brokenly and start to weep. Your body wracks painfully between your sobs, and your eyes burn as if they can’t shed the tears fast enough.

Of course, he had moved on from you and found someone else to entertain ... Ugh, even thinking the word sickened you to the very foundation of your essence.

Did I really expect any different?

Raphael’s words echo in your head, “The arousals of man will return to him.”

That had scarcely been the case. Except for the night you agreed to be his spawn, Astarion had barely laid a finger on you unless you specifically requested it, and you never did, knowing intimacy was complicated for him. Perhaps you duped yourself into believing that he just needed time, but you wonder if so easily agreeing to be his spawn had a role.

Or maybe he just prefers warm flesh. Now, he’s bedding that… that harlot!

Sitting on the hard ground, you bring your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs. Resting your head on them, you let your eyes drift shut. You’re too exhausted to fight it anymore, and you let the misery wash over and consume you.

How many times will I have to endure losing him?

The sanguine hunger is gnawing at your insides like a rabid animal. Your empty stomach spasms so painfully it makes you retch dryly between scattered sobs. Every muscle, tendon and ligament in your body convulses, making your limbs jerk sporadically, begging for sustenance. You should hunt, but instead, you choose to wallow in your dismal self-pity.

When did I become this hollow shell?

You have never lived an easy life. You’re not born of wealth, nobility or with a silver spoon in your mouth. You lived a challenging life. You were not prone to pathetic displays of weakness such as this. You had the blazing fire of your draconic ancestors coursing through your veins, and you always defiantly faced any hardships that came your way, whether by diplomacy, persuasion, or, if all else failed, scorching them from the earth.

When you met Astarion on that beach, that dagger of his threatening to gut you, you had been so close to turning him into a charcoaled husk until your tadpole resonated with his dousing your flames.

Now look at me.

You’re not sure when it happened, but that raging vigour you had possessed had been snuffed out. What was left behind was a yawning void where your willpower to survive once resided.

The next time you look up, you can see daybreak threatening on the skyline. You consider letting the daylight consume whatever is left of you, but you remember Shadowheart’s promise to Astarion if you didn’t return home.

“I will kill you, Astarion, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

She would make good on her threat, even if it got her killed.

Which it surely would.

Your will to live may be dead and buried, but your concern for your friend’s lives is alive and well. The dejection that kept your body planted on the ground all night suddenly lifts its burden, and you take off in a sprint.

You enter the house quietly, hoping that Shadowheart is still asleep, but you find her pacing in the large living room, muttering to herself. She jumps at the creak of the door, the radiant glow of divine magic on her fingertips.

“I was almost out of my mind with worry!” She says, distress rampant in her voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“Wait... what’s wrong?” Fury bursts into her eyes, “What did he do to you!?”

Your back slides down the rough wooden door, splinters catching on your robe as you just let yourself sink to the floor, “Nothing, I didn’t bring on myself.”

“Did he hurt you!?”

“No.”

Yes.

“You’re lying,” she knows you too well, “tell me the truth!”

“He didn’t hurt me.”

He broke me.

Her voice softens as she realizes tears have begun to spill out of your eyes, “Tell me what happened.”

“Another time. Can we... can we please drop it for now?”

You don’t think you could bear to speak any of it aloud, not right now.

Suspicion runs over her features, “Fine.”

You can see the anger in her eyes, her mouth set in a stern, grim line. Her heart is rattling around in her chest.

“Please do not go looking to start a fight with him.”

She huffs, “Why are you still protecting him? What has he done to earn such loyalty?”

“Astarion doesn’t need my protection or anyone else’s - not anymore.”

She folds her arms over her chest, “I’m sure he believes that.”

“Shadowheart, please.”

She sighs reluctantly, “Fine. How is your wound? Do you need more healing?”

“I will be alright. I heal fast.”

Or I should…

Your side still aches with a grievous burning that makes your eyes water.

An uneasy silence stretches out between you, “and the hunger?”

“Keep your distance.” It sounds more like a threat than it had in your head, and you wince at the severe intonation, “Sorry, that didn’t come out right.”

“I understand.”

You drag yourself off the floor, and your wound smarts in objection at your movement, “I think I’m going to go get some rest.”

“Good idea,” she brightens, “you look terribly pale.”

You smirk at her and make your way to your bedroom. Your trance does not come easily to you, and even when it does, you toss and turn as echoes of memories play out in your dreams.

You’re back in camp, curled up in your tent but unable to sleep. The city is close now, and your mind is troubled. Your draconic fire pulses and dances over your fingertips in a mesmerizing display. The glorious heat of your ancestors radiates from your skin. With nothing but your thoughts and control of the Weave, you will the flames higher, lower, brighter, dimmer, hotter, colder in a measured cycle.

“Neat trick. What other things can you do with that fire of yours?”

Astarion pulls back the flap to your tent. The reflection of your fire prancing along your fingertips highlights the vibrant cardinal red of his eyes.

“Can’t sleep?”

Relinquishing your hold on the weave, you let the flames sputter out, “No. Successful hunt?”

“Your necks may rest easy tonight if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Astarion, I didn’t mean-”

He chuckles low, “I’m just playing with you, my dear.”

He crouches down and takes your hand in his. His skin feels like ice compared to the feverish warmth your flame has left behind.

“Come, my love. Why don’t you join me tonight?”

"Join you? Where?”

“In my tent.”

You hesitate, “That’s not necessary.”

“Please?”

You eye him intensely, probing him, searching his body language, his expression, his eyes, for that well-practised, albeit false, veneer he wraps himself in.

“I’d really rather you disrobe me for real, beautiful. Come.”

Alarm bells blare in your head, “Astarion…”

“My sweet, sweet girl. Do I look uncomfortable to you?”

"No.”

It’s the truth; his expression is relaxed, and perhaps it’s part of the reason you feel so perturbed.

“I want you close tonight. Are you truly going to deny me the pleasantries of your fine company?”

You start to stand, and he rises from his crouched position with you. When you’re nearly on your feet, he gives your arm a quick tug, jolting you forward and off balance. You stumble and fall into him.

“You’re beautiful.”

His lips meet yours, gently at first, but the pace quickens to a ravenous frenzy as if he’s been starving and you’re the sustenance he needs to survive.

His mouth expertly parts yours, and you feel the groan rumble in his chest as his tongue explores, tasting you. Your body pushes into him further, and your arousal awakens in a visceral torrent.

When he breaks the kiss, you moan your displeasure with your eyes still closed, “Not fair.”

"Oh, darling. Don’t fret.” he leans close to your ear, “I’m not done with you just yet.”

Jolting awake, you nearly propel yourself out of your bed. You take deep breaths, even though you don’t need them. Your dead body seemingly has a hard time letting go of the comforts of life. The air fills your lungs with a whistle as the rigour battles with your panicked breathing.

He was so gentle, so sweet, and I ruined him.

With a groan, you lay back down. Holding up your hand, you stare at your unnaturally pallid skin, and you mourn the colour your complexion once held. Desperate to feel the comfort of something familiar, something tangible that you can control, you take hold of the weave. Blazing fire springs into life from your palm born of your draconic ancestry. You let the flame frolic and lick climbing up your hand, over your fingertips and back in a captivating parade.

This is something no one can take from me, not even him.

You register frantic pacing coming from the floor below, and you can faintly hear the elevated pulse of a pounding heart. You douse the fire still burning hot in your palm and relinquish your hold on the weave. Sitting up, the wound afflicting your side bellows in radiating bursts, but you push the sensation away and focus on the restless stomping below.

Something is wrong.

You stumble out of bed, momentarily confused by the clumsy feeling of your limbs.

I’m not graceful by any means, but tripping over myself getting out of bed, that’s new.

You don’t have time to consider it further, so you let it go. You scramble into your clothing and walk to the top landing of the staircase.

“Shadowheart? Are you okay?” You call down to her in a raised, concerned voice.

Even from this distance, you’re already fighting your bloodlust; your body tenses, shakes and trembles, waging warfare on your restraint. Squeezing your eyes shut, you pray to any God that will listen to grant you strength.

“No. I need to speak with you urgently. Can you come down?”

No.

“Yes, but-”

She cuts you off, “I will keep my distance.”

“Get your weapon.”

She scoffs, “I trust you.”

Gods, she has no idea how good she smells.

“Please, Shadowheart. It… It's really bad today.”

“Fine, if you insist, but I’m not scared of you.”

You should be.

Your hunger is frantically digging its talons deeper and deeper into you. It feels like it’s ripping you apart from the inside out. Your mind whispers repulsive thoughts, and you can feel it's starting to take any of the control you had away, draining it out of you.

The pain. Gods, the pain.

You descend the stairs with shaky steps as your stomach once again starts to convulse and cramp sickeningly. Shadowheart smells like fear, and her heart beats so fast it sounds like a roaring thunder. You can hear her lungs expand and contract with her rapid breathing.

This is how Astarion always knew when I was upset even when I told him I was fine. He could hear it the whole damn time.

He had explained this to you, or tried to, on multiple occasions. Experiencing it for yourself was vastly different. Suddenly, all his weird, often poetic metaphors make perfect sense.

As you get to the bottom of the stairs, you keep your hand tightly grasped around the rail, giving yourself something to focus on. The wood complains under the pressure of your clenching hold.

Shadowheart is standing on the opposite side of the room. Her weapon is in her hand as she promised you. It gives you a sense of comfort.

“Are you okay, Shadowheart? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“I received a letter from my parents. They have requested that I see them. It said it was an urgent matter.”

Shadowheart mother had fallen unwell some months ago, and she wasn’t recovering from whatever ailed her. You had tried to push Shadowheart to stay with her parents so she could help her mother, but she had refused.

“You need to go to them, Shadowheart.”

She nods, “I know, but I am not keen on leaving you.”

“I’ll survive. I am well equipped to care for myself, as you well know. Plus, if I remember correctly, a vampire spawn is difficult to kill.”

Her eyes narrow, “Not if Astarion comes for you.”

“Astarion has a new toy he’s busy playing with right now. I doubt he will give me a second thought.”

Shadowheart’s brows rise, “What? A new spawn?”

“No. She still possesses her life, so far anyway.”

Her voice softens, “Are you okay?”

She pities me.

“I will be. Go see your parents, Shadowheart. It sounds important. Please don’t let me keep you from living your life.”

“Yes, I think I should. I won’t be gone too long. Stay out of trouble, will you?”

“I can’t promise that.” You shrug, “Trouble seems to find me.”

Shadowheart gives you her best disapproving glower.

“I will stay out of trouble. Go.”

Shadowheart starts briskly moving about the house, collecting her belongings. Her heart’s pace picks up further, pounding in her chest until it’s the only thing you can hear. Your grip intensifies on the wooden rail, and it splinters.

“I’ll be in my room. Travel safe, Shadowheart.”

Returning to your room, you stuff your head under all the pillows you can find, trying to drown out the raging thumping in your head. You dig your fingernails into your skin, scratching long weeping lacerations up your legs, giving yourself something to focus on in a desperate attempt to remain in control.

Astarion had mentioned that there were times he was so hungry he was all but robbed of speech and reason, and you wonder if you’re getting to that point.

Shadowheart knocks on your door, “I’m leaving now. I will be back as soon as I can.”

You groan at her closeness, “Go, Shadowheart. Don’t worry about me.”

You hear her bound down the stairs and out the door, leaving the house in a blissful silence. With her gone, the hysteria of your bloodlust fades just enough that your thoughts become your own again.

That was close. Too close.

Glimpsing at the window, you eye the boards nailed over it to protect you from the sun. You reach out and hover your hand over the rough wood. Slight warmth radiates off their surface, letting you know the sun still shines.

Your mind plays the memory of Astarion. His arm wrapped around you protectively as he held you firmly against him. The scarlet of his eyes alight while they gazed at you as his thumb swept across your cheek.

It’s a pleasant memory until - the mulberry-haired woman. Her sapphire eyes. Her triumphant smile. Her disgusting, sensual saunter.

You recoil, shake your head, and scold yourself for letting your thoughts run away with you. Moving away from the window, you stumble over your own feet again, your ankle rolling gruesomely to the side as you misstep.

It should alarm you. This new incoordination is bizarre, but you’re too fatigued to give it any pause. Energy feels like it’s being siphoned out of your body, debilitating you.

You drag yourself back into your bed and allow your trance to take you.

Your condition worsens steadily over the following days. Blood still percolates out of the wound on your side, with no signs of healing to be seen. Black streaks now stretch up your torso, down your side, and low into your thigh.

You’re disoriented and weak. Your vision is hazy, and reality feels like it’s ebbing and flowing like waves over a rough sea. Your legs feel feeble beneath you as you get up to check your bandages, which are once again saturated in blood.

I need help. Something is very wrong. Can I die from this? What ailments can kill a vampire spawn? There is so much I still don’t know.

But I know who does.

With shaky hands, you manage to re-bandage yourself sloppily and slide into a robe. You fiddle with the laces for far too long. You see double, triple, even quadruple, and your fingers grasp at nothing but air. It makes your eyes cross, and your head drum cruelly. Putting your boots on is challenging as your knees quack and you tumble to the floor repeatedly.

You should be terrified for your life, but you’re walking the fine line between delirium and complete incoherence, and you find it all rather… amusing. You giggle to yourself, grinning widely as you try and figure out which door handle is the corporeal one.

The walk to the Crimson Palace is long and arduous. You can barely pick up your feet, embarrassingly tripping over yourself repeatedly and falling to your hands and knees in the streets. Thankfully, there are few people out as most would be packed into the various taverns found in the city. Those who are around to witness your uncoordinated lumbering laugh at your ineptitude for walking.

They think I’m drunk.

The thought makes you giggle.

Rounding a corner, you prop yourself up on the wall for a second to catch your breath, only to laugh to yourself at such a silly notion. You don’t need to breathe anymore.

I’m dead.

More giggles.

Wait, where was I going?

You glance up and vaguely make out the shape of the Crimson Palace bathed in the darkness of a cloudy night, triggering your fading memory.

Oh, yes, to see my master, Lord Astartion.

You giggle again, rolling your eyes at the factitious thought. It sends your vision whirling, and you groan.

You look up at the Crimson Palace while you struggle to force your failing body to continue moving forward.

I wish I had reduced that place to nothing but a pile of rubble when I had the chance.

Through the murky darkness, a voice calls out, “It’s so nice to see you again.”

You know this voice, but you can’t seem to place it, and your brain makes sluggish attempts to connect that familiar tone with a memory. You have trouble getting your thoughts to form coherently.

You squint your eyes to peer through the fog clouding your vision and catch the colour of mulberry.

It’s her.

“Ugh. Go. Away.”

Not her. Anyone but her.

She blocks your path.

“You don’t look so good, sugar.” She says in that upbeat, harmonious tone that makes you want to puke.

I should kill her.

A sinister smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, and you try to stifle the feverish giggle erupting from your mouth. In the diminished and very nearly incoherent state you’re in, she would be more likely to kill you, but alas, it was a lovely fantasy.

You don’t bother dignifying her with a response and clumsily try to dodge around her.

“I can’t help but notice you appear to be walking towards the Crimson Palace. Are you going to see Astarion?” she pauses, “I’m not sure he will be up for visitors. We have been having a lot of fun every night. He is quite generous, but you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

No. No. No. No. No. No.

“Sweet thing, you do know what I mean by fun, right? Or would you like me to spell it out for you?”

Keep walking... just keep moving forward.

“Sex, sweetness. I mean sex.”

Despite your deranged state, your heart still breaks, and a single tear escapes your eye and rolls down your cheek, thinking of him and her together.

“I’d offer to buy you a drink, but it looks like you’ve had one too many already.”

Pure rage surges through your body, and in an instant, your palm ignites, and fire sways and oscillates over it.

“The only drink I would ever accept from you is your blood. Every. Last. Drop.”

You didn’t feed on the blood of thinking creatures, but you would exuberantly make an exception for this wretch.

You stand up straight, your fury parting the daze veiling your mind, allowing you to think lucidly for the first time in days.

You grin menacingly as you will the fire in your palm to balloon into an enormous glowing sphere, “Or I could just reduce you to an impotent pile of ash where you stand.”

The woman’s mouth drops open, and she watches the fire blazing on your palm, “Pardon me?”

“I’m sorry, sugar,” you mock her, “Do you need me to spell it out for you? I will kill you!” “Astarion will not be pleased if you kill his lover.”

Her emphasis on the word lover makes your stomach lurch, and you grit your teeth, your jaw clenching hard.

She’s trying to get under my skin, and it’s working.

A menacing laugh rises from your throat, and you fix an intimidating gaze on her, “Well, Astarion isn’t here to save you now, is he?”

Her confidence falters. The broad, toothy grin plastered on her delicate features dissolves under your dangerous glower. Her heartbeat accelerates, thrumming the chorus of a grand symphony in your ears. The smell of fear drifts laden in the chilled breeze.

To your immense dissatisfaction, she recovers her serenity quickly, and the beaming, albeit phoney, smile returns to her rosy lips.

She speaks to you pleasantly, as if you two were old friends, “I’m sure we will meet again soon.”

Gods, I can’t stand her.

It sounds reminiscent of a promise, and you pray it's not one.

“Surely, you should be in a better mood by then. Have a lovely night!”

The picturesque mulberry-haired woman swaggers off down the road, disappearing into the murky darkness of an alleyway. The fireball hovering above your palm burns out as your rage recedes. I should have eaten her.

The walkway to the palace door is long and meanders slightly uphill. The stupor clouding your mind surged forward as soon as your adrenaline fell, and you are once again in that dreamlike state. You hesitate at the door of the Crimson Palace.

This is a bad idea.

You have escaped him twice already. Now, here you are, willingly coming back to ask for his help.

He would probably slam the door in your face on the spot at best or throw you into the kennels at worst. The wound in your side aches maddeningly, reminding you of the reason you’re standing here in the first place.

Not possessing enough coordination to knock in the traditional sense, you slam the palm of your hand as hard as you can against the ornate door. It makes your fingers croon with a sweet sting. Quiet minutes tick by with no answer or sound of movement from inside.

Of fucking course.

You sag into the door dejectedly, closing your heavy eyes with a dismal sigh.

I am so tired.

The hefty door swings open abruptly, and you don’t have time to steady yourself. Without the counterbalance to keep you upright, you nosedive forward.

Astarion’s arms quickly slip under yours, halting your fall, “Little love, you simply must stop falling for me like this.”

He sets you back on your feet, keeping an arm out to steady you, but you push it away, still irritated by your exchange with that horrible woman.

Not bothering to wait for an invitation, you stagger weakly into the palace.

His eyebrow cocks at your awkward lumbering, “Do come in.”

“I hate her.”

“Who would you be referring to, my dear?”

“That... that fucking trollop!” You say spitefully.

The dim room seems to undulate around you, and your words are slurred, “I’m going to eat her one day.”

His eyebrows rise in a vexingly handsome expression, “Well, now I am intrigued. Do tell me who you are talking about?”

Jealous anger slithers hot through your veins, “Your.... your purpled-haired hussy!”

A wide grin crosses his face, “I see. I knew you were jealous but murderous?” He chuckles, “I’m impressed.”

His forehead furrows slightly, and he cocks his head, “although, you don’t look entirely yourself.”

“Something is wrong with me.”

"Now that, my treasure, is something we can agree on.”

Rolling your eyes, you continue, “I need help.”

“Petitioning me for help, are you? Cute.”

You huff at him, exacerbated, “You know what? This was a bad idea. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

You start towards the door, stumbling awkwardly.

“Wait.”

His hand reaches out and tenderly encircles your forearm, steadying you. Your eyes drift to his. Is that concern you see reflected in those deep crimson irises?

I must be truly delirious. "What's wrong?”

“The wound from the stake isn’t healing.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Show me.”

Your fingers fumble with the lace ties of your robe in uncoordinated rigour. Your vision sways, rocking like trees in a blustery wind. Cursing under your breath, you squint, trying to focus.

Astarion steps forward, coming close enough that you can finally see him clearly. He’s shirtless, and his trousers are untied at the front.

Good Gods…

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?”

The words spill out of your mouth dreamily, and you giggle at how free you feel. You’re no longer shackled by the fear or sadness that has consumed you and hollowed you out. You feel unencumbered, a great weight lifted from your shoulder.

“Yes, I think you have mentioned it a time or two, but please, do feel free to tell me again.”

You stop squinting and fumbling with the laces on your robe to look up at him doe-eyed, “You’re beautiful.”

“You are in quite the state, aren’t you?”

His hands brush yours away, and he starts to deftly untie the laces.

“Hey… Rude.” You stick your tongue out at him childishly.

Losing your balance, your hand finds the smooth skin of his shoulder to stabilize yourself. His body stills under your touch, muscles tense.

A sharp pang of guilt slides down your throat, “Sorry.”

You withdraw your hand. He catches it and places it back on his shoulder before undoing the remaining laces holding your robe.

Astarion gently slips your robe over your shoulders and lets it fall to the ground around your feet, leaving you in your underclothes. He eyes the blood-soaked bandages wrapped carelessly around your abdomen intently.

“May I?” he asks, pointing to the sodden dressing, “I need to examine it.”

“I can do it."

He scoffs, “My dear, you can barely stand. How about you just focus on keeping that pretty little face off my floor.”

You scoff back, imitating him, but nod your consent, “I hate her.”

“Yes,” he laughs lightheartedly, “we have established that.”

“Do you love her?”

The question erupts from your lips before you have time to stop yourself.

Do I even want to know?

The question makes him flounder as if he had physically tripped on your boldness, “Am I capable of love?”

“I don’t know. Are you? Loving your reflection doesn’t count.”

He smirks, “Hold onto me.”

“What?”

“Little love, you are not wearing these grimy boots in my house. They need to come off.”

“I’ll do it.”

“My dear, we’ve been through this. For once, will you just listen to me?” Astarion kneels before you, one knee on the floor, “Are you ready?”

You tentatively reach out and put both hands on his shoulders to keep yourself upright. Astarion lifts your weak, trembling leg and starts slipping off your boots.

“What are these?”

You glance down at your legs, where your fingernails ripped long, jagged cuts into them to fight your revolting temptations.

“They’re nothing."

Astarion looks at them studiously, running his fingers over the irregular long gouge. He leans in closer, and you try to pull back, but he grabs your leg and holds it firmly in place while giving you a stern look.

When you stop fighting, he leans in and places gentle kisses on those long wounds, slowly trailing them up toward the apex of your thighs, making you squirm. He stops short.

Moving onto the next leg, he repeats the process of sliding your boot off while you use his body to steady yourself and then trailing those long cuts with gentle kisses, once again stopping short.

You can’t help yourself, and you groan loudly.

Once Astarion has stripped your boots from your feet, he slowly rises to his full height so he doesn't throw you off balance since his body is the only thing keeping you on your feet.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He motions for you to follow him deeper into the palace, but your legs buckle under you. Before you can fall again, his arm hooks under your knees and the other cradles your back as he sweeps you off your feet effortlessly.

You struggle weakly, “I can walk.”

“Truly? Can you?”

He looks at you with an obvious imitation of melodramatic astonishment, and a laugh rumbles in his throat.

He’s having too much fun at my expense.

Astarion walks with an agile grace as he cradles you in his arms and carries you through the familiar dark halls you called home for a short while. The floor barely creaks, and his footsteps are all but silent.

Not fair.

Candlelight bathes the bedroom in a saffron-coloured warmth. The room smells pleasantly like finely aged brandy, bergamot, and rosemary. It smells of him, and that comfortable recognition envelopes you. Astarion eases you down on the fine, silk bed cover, taking care not to jostle you about. Grabbing a clean cloth, he wets it in the washbasin perched on a carved table. He crouches smoothly, positioning himself between your legs.

Oh…

Memories flash across your vision of him in the forest clearing, him in that bedroom the night he turned you, and heat pools between your legs. A needy groan escapes your lips as you tear your eyes off of him meekly. If your heart could beat, it would be battering against your ribs as if it were trying to rip itself from your bosom. A sensual chuckle rattles deep in his chest, fully aware of what he’s doing.

Oh no.

You are starved for physical affection, having spent the last year distanced from your friends or locked away entirely. They had tried to comfort you, of course, but you couldn’t be trusted to get too close to anyone with a heartbeat. Except for a few brief uncomfortable hugs or reassuring squeezes of your hand, you haven’t been touched since before you fled this place. You craved it like the desert sands crave moisture during a drought.

You struggle to push yourself further up the bed and away from him. You squeeze your legs together, trying to shut him out. You feel too vulnerable, almost stripped bare with your legs spread, and entirely too aroused, given the predicament you currently find yourself in.

His hand grips your thigh tenderly but firmly, keeping it to the side and pinning you in your place.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts, “hold still.”

You groan loudly and cover your face with your hands, surrendering to him.

“Good girl.”

With light, gentle strokes, he starts wiping the smeared blood from your midsection. He looks at the injury curiously, cocking his eyebrow. Blood continues to weep gradually from it, and the black streaking spreads out like inky tendrils across your ghostly skin. He pushes his fingers on the wound, coating them in your blood.

You wince at the uncomfortable pressure, “What are you doing?”

His crimson eyes meet yours with an intensity that makes you hold your breath, yet another reflexive habit. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he sucks on them while holding your gaze. It’s oddly sensual until his face contorts into a grimace. He spits your blood out into the cloth.

Well, that can’t be good, he would never waste blood.

“Poison. You need an antidote and rest, pet.”

“Don’t call me pet.”

“I’ll call you whatever I like.” He hisses.

“Why do you do this?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He pouts sarcastically.

“Don’t you? You swing from one extreme to the next so fast I can hardly keep up. You’re nice one moment, and treating me like a belonging the next.”

He frowns, “You do belong to me. I made sure of it.”

He’s trying to get under my skin.

“Yes, you did. Are you proud of yourself, love?”

“Indeed I am.”

You grumble, “Pompous prick.”

He laughs at you, “Sassy tonight, aren’t we?”

"You didn’t answer my question.”

A malevolent smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, reaching his eyes, “I do rather enjoy you like this, you know.”

You swallow hard, “Like what?”

“Nearly naked, laid out before me on my bed, and entirely at my mercy.”

Levelling a glowering look at him, “You don’t scare me.”

If nothing else, your incapacitated mental state gives you courage, or perhaps you are just too far gone to feel fear. Either way, speaking your mind feels magnificent. You have muzzled yourself too often around him, but the muzzle is off, and your fangs are bared - sort of speak.

“Oh?” he pouts innocently, “I suppose I will have to try harder then, won’t I?”

“I suppose you will if that’s what gets you going.”

“I would be happy to demonstrate what gets me going.”

Astarion rises slowly from his crouched position between your legs. His hand holding your thigh starts to glide leisurely up your body, delicately skimming over every curve. You try to push him away, but it’s like a feather trying to push over a brick wall.

His knee nudges your legs further apart, and he pushes his hips into you, anchoring you between him and the bed. The friction is serene, sending waves of need rocketing through you. You would be lying if you said his proximity was entirely unwelcome.

“When did you eat last?” he whispers as his lips ghost over yours.

What a weird question.

“Why? What difference does it make?” You squirm under him, the pressure of his body overwhelming your senses.

“I have my reasons, darling.”

Your eyebrow pulls down slightly in confusion, “Which are?”

“None of your concern.” He says curtly, “When did you eat last? I won’t ask again.”

Do I dare?

Yes.

Yes, I think I dare.

You meet his gaze, dead on, challenging him, “None of your concern.”

Astarion scowls harshly, “Shall I force you to tell me, my sweet, sweet spawn?”

You scoff, “Oh, spare me the bullshit, Astarion.” You roll your eyes at him, but it makes your stomach lurch. You fight the wave of nausea and continue, “If you’re going to force me, then just do it already. I’m beyond sick of your threats.”

He pushes himself back abruptly, ending the decadent feast of friction you have been savouring. He paces back and forth menacingly in front of you. A terrifying expression is painted across his face.

Did I push him too far this time?

Astarion strides over to a cabinet and flings the door open, nearly pulling the door straight off, grabs a bottle and comes back to you. He looks at you with animosity brewing in those cold red eyes.

“Drink this and get out.”

He throws the bottle on the bed beside you.

You finger it hesitantly, “What is it?”

“Antidote. Drink it and leave.”

“Fine.”

Astarion leaves the room and fades into the dark hallway. You swig down the bottle of antidote as fast as you can, trying to get the least amount of it on your tongue as possible. The taste still makes you want to throw up.

It works fast, and you can already see the constant dripping of blood from the wound start slowing, and the black streaks start to recede slowly. The haze clouding your mind dissipates, and you are once again lucid... mostly.

You manage to get yourself up off the bed, but your limbs are still weak, trembling and not complying with the orders you’re giving them.

Astarion returns with your robe, chucking it to the floor at your feet. By the time you manage to get your boots on and out the door, you realize that dawn is not far off.

I don’t have enough time to get back.

“Astarion, dawn is soon. I’ll-”

He cuts you off, “Burn, yes. I am aware.”

I pushed him too far.

His brows pull down, low in a sinister glare, “Run, little lamb.”

Big thank you to everyone who takes the time to read/follow/like/reblog/comment/etc -- I hope you're enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it :)

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I have another with Spawn Astarion x Tav called -Shadows of the Past

AO3 [Crossposted]

#bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion x you #astarion x reader #ascended astarion #bg3 #astarion smut #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin

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callsigndragon · 2 years

Text

Seeing Red | Ch. 5: Used to it ✍️

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x ex-wife!Reader (Call sign: Red Queen)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: sassy red, jake being an ass, more mav and jake being father and son, mentions of dead, some ex-wife/ex-husband unresolved tension, and... Liam's reveal.

A/N: I literally wrote this in 4 hours i was REAALLY obsessed with this idea and here it is. Comments are welcomed and THERE'S AN AUTHOR NOTE AT THE END THAT EXPLAINS A BIT SOME PARTS OF THIS BUT IT'S IN THE END TO AVOID SPOILERS.

(Whoever wants to be tagged, comment down below!)

Masterlist on pinned

When you walk out of the base towards the tarmac, you see Jake talking with someone. He seems older. Both of them turn toward you, Jake attempting to flee as soon as he recognizes your presence, but the other one stops him, both of them approaching you. Once they’re close, you remember who the other man is.

"Captain Mitchell?" you ponder, covering your eyes with your hand because the sun is shining brighter than usual.

“Red Queen! It’s been a while. Last time we worked together, you weren’t even married.” He says, Jake groaning beside him.

“If you told me that I would get married and divorced in the span of three years, I would have said that was bullshit.”

“How many times are you gonna mention it?” Jake protests, taking off his glasses.

“The same amount of times I tried to call you and text you after you left the fucking divorce papers on the kitchen counter.” You challenge him, waiting for his reaction.

“I guess they were a lot.” Maverick adds, making Jake cover his face in disbelief. “Anyway, Cyclone told me that you were doing a dogfighting exercise, so I thought I could join."

“Mav, did he give you the green light, or are you trying to make me break some rules on my first day?”

“Well, maybe he didn’t agree 100%. But I want to help you!”

You’re about to protest when you feel your phone ring in your pocket. “I’m gonna take this call and go ask Cyclone. Wait for me to come back, and I’ll let you know if you can fly or not, Mav.”

You turn around and get inside the building, answering the call. You don’t even need to check the screen to know who it is.

“Hey pretty boy.”

“So… you fucked up real good, buddy.”

“Oh yeah? I didn’t notice.” He is tempted to walk away, but then he hears Red talking.

"Hey pretty boy"

"Pretty boy?" Jake mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Looks like she has moved on." Mav whispers, patting Jake's back.

"No, Liam, we can't have a cat. We have a dog, and that's a lot of work already."

Red enters the building, and Jake stays there, completely astonished. "Who the fuck is Liam?"

"Your replacement?" He shrugs.

"Fuck off, Mav"

And just like he did hours ago, Mav smacks Jake's head again. "I'm not the bad guy here, son. And I don't know if you're allowed to be mad. You asked for a divorce."

"You know why I did it."

Mav sighs, taking off his glasses. "Yeah, I know. And I told you there may have been other ways to solve the problem."

"I couldn't find any other one. Look, I can tolerate being around her at work. But she's gonna be friends with all the team because that's how she is, just the purest human being to ever walk on earth. I'm telling you now, if I have to see her walk in the Hard Deck hand in hand with an asshole that doesn’t deserve her, I'm asking for a relocation."

"And you think you deserve her? Jake, I know better than anyone how you feel. I let Penny slip away from me many times, and I came back many more. I just—" he looks around, as if trying to find the right words. "I just want you to remember that you vowed to be together for better and for worse. And when the worst came, you didn't tell her and made a decision by yourself."

"You think I don't know that?" He takes out his phone, showing the lock screen to Mav. "I never changed it. I couldn’t. It's a reminder of what I had and what I lost. A fleeting glimpse of the only happiness I've ever known, and an endless torment of what I lost."

Mav scoffs. "You sound like that guy from Pride and Privilege."

"...you mean Pride and Prejudice?"

"THAT ONE!"

"Really, Mav? One of the greatest books to ever be written, and you don't even know the title?"

"Have you even read it?" The older man mocks.

"Yes, I did."

"Bullshit."

"It's true, I bought it for him," Red says, walking past them. "Get in your plane, pops. We're going for a ride."

Jake watches Red jogging towards her plane, new letters added to the side, her name and call sign. And his last name. Seresin, in big black letters.

“Why did she keep my name?” Jake ponders.

“What?”

“Look." He points at Red's aircraft. "Seresin. Why is she using it?”

“I don’t think I have a good answer for that, son. Come on, I have to fly.”

It's all good until Jake's turn comes. All of them are amazing pilots, of course, they're the best of the best. You didn't expect anything different. Rooster is the fastest to take you out. Mav explains to you how, until a few years ago, he was afraid of his own potential. You can hear how proud Mav is now, as if Rooster were his own son. In a way, you know he is.

"Hey, Red. Can I ask you a question?" Bob mutters through the comms.

"You just did, Bob." You laugh. "Of course you can."

"Why Red Queen as a call sign? You don't seem like the kind of girl that chops off heads."

You laugh again, turning to be closer to Phoenix's plane. You wave at Bob and he waves back with a chuckle. "It has some resemblance to the Red Queen, but not entirely. Have you heard of the Red Queen hypothesis?"

"Not really."

"According to the Red Queen hypothesis, a species needs to evolve and adapt in order to survive because its competitors are doing the same."

"Did you evolve and adapt?"

"Yep. Being an aviator wasn't in my plans." You confess, remembering the old times.

"And what were your plans?"

"She wanted to be a lawyer."

"I don't think they were asking you, Seresin." You retort, moving your plane to an inverted position, and flying above Jake's plane. "If I want you to talk, I'll let you know."

"I think you're abusing your power, Commander," he mutters, looking straight into your eyes.

"I'm just giving you as many chances to talk as you gave me, Lieutenant."

You move your plane away, the radio has become silent. "But yeah, I wanted to be a lawyer."

"What changed?"

"My dad died in Iraq when I was a teenager. His plane crashed. He wanted to defend his country so much that he died doing it. And I took his place."

"Adapt in order to survive." Bob mutters.

"That's it."

“It says a lot about you, Red. Your father will be proud.” Mav comments, moving to your right. “Anyway, are we gonna play or what?”

“Yeah, we’re in the right place already. Okay, Phoenix, Jake, you have thirty seconds to fly away from us. After that, fight’s on.”

“Aye aye, Red”

“Yes, Commander.”

A tiny part of you almost feels bad that Jake has to address you by rank.

Almost.

You wait thirty seconds. Mav immediately goes after Phoenix, and you know he’s giving you the chance to see how Jake reacts. Instead of going after Mav to ‘free’ Phoenix, he leaves his wingman alone. What the fuck does he think he’s doing?

“Phoenix, Mav, stop right now.”

You see both aircrafts slowing down. “Did something happen, Red?” Phoenix asks, flying back to you.

“Lieutenant Seresin, I want you to fly back to the base right this instant and wait on the tarmac until I finish all the exercises of the day.”

“Can I ask why, Commander?”

“You’re not leaving your wingman alone, not under my command. If I have to be paired with you on a mission because Cyclone ordered me to carry your ass everywhere I go, you’re not gonna fucking leave me alone so you can make some maneuvers and take the glory.”

“Red, I work better like that.”

“First of all, it’s Commander for you. Second, you’re gonna work as I say, cause I’m in charge here, not you. Not anymore. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You whisper. “I should be used to it by now.”

“Used to what?” he asks.

“To you, leaving people behind. Everyone back to the base. We’re done for the day.”

It takes all your power not to cry. The idea of being on a mission and having Jake leave you behind, just because he has the biggest ego ever known in human history, makes you shiver. Being abandoned is a feeling you don’t want to experience again.

You spend the rest of the day in your office, working on the report Cyclone asked you to write. You don’t want to be that type of ex, but you have to write a bad review of Jake’s work. He only needed ten seconds to abandon his wingman. How has he been working here for so long? It’s a complete mystery to you.

You’re printing it up when you hear a soft knock on your door. “Come in.”

“Commander”

You should look up from your work the next time someone knocks on the door. “Do you need something, Seresin?”

“Actually, yes. I have questions.” He says, while closing the door. He takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of your desk.

“And what makes you think you have the right to ask anything?” You question, collecting all the sheets of paper from the printer.

“Why are you still using my name?”

“It became mine too when you married me. Just never thought about changing it.”

“That’s not it, Red. We both know it”

“Whatever my reasons are, I don’t have to explain them to you.” You argue, getting up from your chair and collecting your things before exiting the office. Jake follows you, seems like he doesn’t want to end the conversation there.

“I think I deserve an explanation. It’s my name, after all.”

You stop in your tracks, turning around so fast that your body collides against Jake’s. You look up, all the hurt, pain, and fury accumulated over the last three years lighting a fire in your soul that must be visible to him, because he moves a step back. “Jake, it’s just a name; don’t be such a dick about it. It’s not because I still love you or whatever stupid idea you have running around in your head. It was a lot of paperwork that I didn't want to deal with. Happy? Now wait here, or do you want to enter Cyclone’s office? I heard it’s like your second home”

You enter Cyclone's office. He told you before that he had to leave to attend to some important matters, but you could leave the report on his desk without problem. You take a moment to breathe deeply, your hands shaking with the many unsaid words that you have kept in your chest for far too long. But you know you can’t tell him what you want to. Not now.

When you walk out of the room, he’s still there. “You’re really annoying, you know?”

“I want my answer.” He insists.

“Why do you care so much, Jake? You left me, you literally abandoned me and never looked back, and now you are demanding that I answer your questions? Fuck off.”

You hurry out of the building, looking for your car keys in your bag, when you see a familiar blue car parked in front of you, a woman in her sixties helping a small kid get out of the backseat.

No. No. No.

“What are they doing here?” you whisper under your breath.

“Red, wai- Charlotte?” Jake recognizes your mom in an instant. The woman in question turns around and waves at Jake with a gleeful smile.

This has to be a fucking nightmare. You stay there, completely frozen, knowing that there’s no way in hell you’re getting out of this. You see your kid walking towards you, making grabby hands and giggling. You haven't seen him in two days, having to leave him with your mother to prepare everything in this new base, this new home... You couldn’t bring him yet.

“Liam wait!” Your mom yells, but he doesn’t stop. He has seen someone he knows very well, but has never met in real life. Someone he has seen a lot of photos of. The man that appears in the photo frame placed on his bedside table. It’s a photo of your wedding.

“Dada?”

“What did he say?” Jake whispers, standing at your side as frozen as you are.

“He called you dada.” You declare, already giving in. If this is happening, you're gonna do it right.

Liam stands in front of him, tears in his eyes, as he watches Jake. “Dada is you?”

“I—I don’t know.” He turns at you, fear in his eyes. Oh Lord, what have you done? “Am I his dada?”

You kneel down, taking Jake’s hand and dragging him down with you, both now at the same height as the little kid, who looks at you with a confused expression and wet cheeks. “You want to know why I never got rid of your last name? Well, Jake. Let me introduce you to Liam Alexander Seresin.”

“Oh my god, y-you were pregnant; that’s why you-” He starts to hyperventilate. “Y-you signed the papers to protect him?”

You can’t believe this is happening. This isn’t how you planned to tell him. “Jake, calm down. I didn’t know I was pregnant, I swear, but I need you to calm down.” You don’t want him to have one of his panic attacks in front of Liam, it would scare him.

"Dada, don’t cry.” Liam pouts, his chubby hands rising to touch his father’s cheeks.

“C-can I hug you, buddy?”

Liam throws himself in Jake’s body, the pilot starts crying when he realizes what he had done. He didn’t just leave his wife.

He left his wife and his unborn child. She had to raise him all alone.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats over and over again, his head buried in his son’s hair. Liam smells like her; he’s a miniature version of her with his eyes and nose. It’s everything he once hoped to have.

And he had missed his first steps, his first words, and his first laugh.

Just because he thought that by divorcing her, he could save her.

How wrong he was.

A/N: THERE HE ISSSSSSS. Yes you guessed it, Liam is Jake and Red's son. And here is the explanation you need.

Jake asked for a divorce three years ago. Like actually, is going to be almost three years in a few days (fic time). Liam is a Valentine baby. Jake asked for a divorce on May, Red didn't know she was pregnant until a few days later, when she started to feel sick. She signed the paper's almost immediately after Jake left them in their house, and gave them to her lawyer. They never saw each other again. The reasons why Red didn't tell Jake about the baby, are part of the fic so, I won't tell.

But as it has been hinted, Liam knows who his father is, Red has a picture of him placed in Liam's room, and she tells him about him whenever he wants to know about his dad. Red having Jake as her lockscreen pic? So Liam could see a pic of him every time he wanted.

Liam is now two years and a half. He has Jake's eyes and nose, but is as sassy as his mom.

More details about him will be revealed in next chapters. This is only the beginning of the journey the seresin family will be going through.

And that's all. Have a good night/day!

-Jinx.

Tag list: @purplevortexx @shrimping-for-all @caitsymichelle13 @callmemana @abaker74 @starkleila @topgunmenbefinebruh @blue-aconite @tayrae515 @alexxavicry @xoxabs88xox @mercurio23 @smells-like-perfect-senses @dempy @djs8891 @indynerdgirl @countryclubswifey @lauenderhaze @avaleineandafryingpan @poppyalice2001 @emorychase @wildxwidow @agentwayne17 @shanimallina87

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deerspherestudios · 1 year

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How do you organise the process of creating a character? like, to me its too confusing, i dont know what i do first because there are TOO MANY THINGS TO DO, like backstory, personality, looks, what they like, so what would be the “steps” to make them?

(Since @isabellaswork asked the same thing recently I'm tagging you here, hope that's okay!) Omg I'm flattered I'm the person you'd wanna ask such a big question ;v;!!? Honestly the process is different for everyone, but I'll give it a go <3 This is how my process usually goes:

Personality first, backstory later. Flesh out the concept of the character before deciding their origin story if that makes sense.

Build a moodboard for your character! The more ideas the better!

Time for visuals! Sketch out multiple iterations, looking at the moodboard for inspiration. Colors go last.

Finalize! Once you've got your final sketch + colors, draw a proper illustration and see if you vibe with the design. Repeat previous steps if necessary <3

Extra: Since you've got the design and story down, add some fun facts. This is where interests, likes and dislikes go!

I'll use my VN characters as examples below in case someone wants it in more detail! Mychael (Mushroom Oasis) and Alma (Lift Your Spirits spoilers!! + horror imagery) process ideation under cut:

Usually I start with personality first. Because for me, when you first meet someone, you see what they're like in the present; their past doesn't matter as much until you get to know them. I can decide the backstory later so it doesn't limit the personalities I'm playing around with. Of course I must have gotten the idea from somewhere so these two things work in tandem most of the time.

Then it's just a matter of how they look!

After deciding on personality traits, I start by collecting references from everywhere, even the smallest of things. I think of how I want them to look plus how they would dress. Anything goes at this stage, so just go buck-wild gathering ideas!

Here's a moodboard for Mychael:

This one was for Alma, from their normal self to their monstrous self:

Then it's time for drawing and doodles. As I sketch, I look back at the moodboard I've made and pick out things I like, while drawing things really loose. Copy paste if I need to!

I've shared the ones for Mychael here, here and here! Here's some sketches for Alma from last year:

This part takes the longest but is always the most fun! Don't feel limited by what you had initially, just test out ideas! Here are the final designs!

Mychael(s):

Alma(s):

Then once I'm happy with the design I can flesh out the backstory as much as I like!!! so long as it fits the presentation of the character in current time. Of course this process can differ when you already have a story in mind and need characters to carry out the plot, but I'm definitely not big-brain enough to make an all-out story like that </3 I just enjoy designing characters visually haha

Oh and just for fun, I like to sprinkle in some extra (but kinda unnecessary) background info. It can be the most mundane thing but it gives them more life (to me at least!) Maybe they drink flat orange soda, or enjoy riding trains at night, or hate the smell of french fries, or think apples are disgusting etcetcetc.

Of course there's like, tips for professional character designing like silhouette, shapes, proportions but I assume this ask was for a more casual approach <3 That's all I could think of if I were to describe my process,,, I hope that answers your question!

To recap:

Start with personality traits and decide backstory later. Or work them together as one. It's more concept than visuals at this stage.

Assemble a moodboard for inspiration. The more ideas the better! Look up anything that might relate to your character if it helps.

Sketch, sketch and sketch again! Keep things loose and free. I usually start from the face, to clothes to accessories. Colors go last.

Finalize! Put everything together in one rendered drawing, and see if you vibe with it. You can always go back to previous steps if you're still not happy with it.

And you're done! :-)

#mushroom oasis vn #lift your spirits vn #bts #cheea chatter #i rambled so much so i hope the TLDR helps fhjds #q

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sinistergooseberries · 9 months

Text

SALAAR (SPOILER ALERT)

continuing my tags from a previous post (sorry 😭 @deadloverscity) : like i said, i do think salaar is a good story so far. I like the world-building, I like the tribe coalition system that becomes a background for our story, and i like the fact that varadha and deva are in a toxic yaoi relationship.

im not gonna lie tho, i just haaaate the cinematography and lighting in prashant neel's movies. it's always a bad time there. It's like slapping a vignette over every frame of the movie, and it takes away any colour whatsoever. I understand that he wants to go for a dark vibe, but trust me, dark vibes can be achieved even without making the entire movie dark and invisible. I literally cannot see the actors doing any action! It's bad! It's not enjoyable. As a typical Telugu moviegoer (and assuming the movie was made for a predominantly telugu audience), I enjoy a somewhat vibrant colour scheme. So far, in all of our movies and even the mega movies (if you have watched RRR and Baahubali) there is a lot colour and imagery going on in the movies. I think in Prashant neel's cinemas, all of this is taken away. He has a set of colours that appear in his films consistently - which are black, grey and red. This colour scheme i feel, if repeatedly used, can be a bit boring and may take away the vibrance of the story. the stark contrasts (imo) do not emphasise the story, they overshadow it. still, take this w a grain of salt.

However, considering the fact that this is just his fourth film, ill cut him some slack. But man, if he is going to make movies for a telugu audience, i hope he lets go of the vignette filter.

next, the worldbuilding. i like it - here is a country that is completely separated from india, yet dictates certain aspects of it. i like that they chose an isolated place that evolves in parallel with the mainland, but retains the values of the tribes, making this place mythical and real at the same time. i was really intrigued by the tribe lore - about how the mannars ousted the shouryangas, and how rajamannar basically went against his own father's rule-book and is now facing dire consequences from bharava, whose tribe has the right to the throne right now. i also love love love loveeeeeee the fact that deva is the rightful heir to the throne - and also also the fact that whether he knows about this or not is left ambiguous. i love how this adds another layer to amma's hatred of khansaar and OH. MY. GOD. chef's kiss i love it.

as a personal taste, i don't like violence and epic fights tm overshadowing the narrative, which i feel the movie does. however, kannada film-making might be different. idk, i havent seen many kannada films other than kantara and kgf. the former is good i absolutely love it - the story is fantastic, the fight scenes are chumma, ufff i can praise it for days. the latter is pretty meh for me.

another thing i love about the movie is.. well, varadha and deva. dude, what is up with telugu guys unintentionally making queer movies these days? what is up with that yallll??? ohmygod. when i tell you that i smelled the romance im not lying. dude. dudeee. the whole friends to enemies to (maybe) friends/lovers arc theyve got going on? oooh baby i can feel the fanfics writing themselves. the whole soaked in blood-fighting-together scene? it was a miracle i wasnt jumping up and down on my seat. the dialogue in that scene 'i have friends more handsome than you' and then varadha getting kinda jealous and shit. lovely. the whole don't touch him thing that deva has got going on - baby boy just kiss him. and man. it's beautiful tragic and im writing a fanfic.

soo yeah this is my rant about salaar. im expecting something from it lol.

#salaar

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imagineitdearies · 4 months

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Do you have any writing tips when it comes to building tension?

You are so good at it! I see the happy ending tag, I know the happy ending is coming and yet I've never been so stressed out.

Hi anon! What a great but complicated question 😂

Tension is intrinsically tied to so many other aspects of a story. For instance, you have to spend time on character development--if your readers don't care about the character all this is happening to, why would it matter what they're facing?

Another big one is to develop a conflict that continues to raise the stakes--in Perfect Slaughter, Tyrus starts out with the conflict of Cazador forcing eternal slavery on him, right? But that's only the beginning. Tension rises as he develops a relationship, because then the antagonist can also threaten the one source of joy/love he has, which is arguably even more important. Giving your protagonist more to lose throughout a story really heightens the stakes!

I'll cover just a couple more: foreshadowing and pacing.

Foreshadowing is a huge tool, because how else would the reader know what to fear/anticipate? I like to create conflict even in my foreshadowing, too. In Perfect Slaughter, there's all kinds of story beats and scenes where having hope and doing good increases love/happiness (at a cost), and succumbing to corruption and evil helps you gain power (at a cost). These two different truths battle each other a lot and sit in conflict with each other, building up the tension as readers wait in anticipation for which truth the narrative will follow and which cost is worth it. Sidenote: when you have two threads of foreshadowing that seem irreconcilable, having a third, more subtle truth that trumps them both at the end really pays off the tension in an exciting way.

When it comes to pacing, you can add tension if you vary the fast action scenes and the slow, contemplative scenes, because readers can always be anticipating a change (when it's slow, it's about to ramp up; when it's fast, they can reward themselves with a cooldown if they keep reading). If it was high stakes all the time, that would get boring pretty quick.

And one more thing about endgame pacing--keep a "rule of three" when it comes to failures in building up tension for the final conflict, though I would personally say "at least three," haha. And if it's a long story, you can mitigate that by having overarching failures as well as failures in the climax itself. (spoiler warning for recent events below!!)

Some overarching failures in Perfect Slaughter include but are not limited to: 1) Tyrus forms an alliance with Ulma, but it goes nowhere, 2) When he tries to slow down the Ascension, Cazador quickly learns and intervenes, and 3) When he starts enacting his plan, the other people involved in it change things up!

Failures in the climax: 1) Lady Amanita, 2) Cazador coerces Tyrus into drinking the sick victim, 3+) **Pending** lol.

These should be broken up by successes, of course, like Tyrus learning how to control Chatterteeth, allying with Lady Incognita, marrying the Ascension rite and Perfect Slaughter rite together, etc. Basically crafting a "Will they, won't they?" of the highest order with your main conflict!

There's so much to story crafting, so others can feel free to add commentary/advice! But I hope this was helpful 💙

#ask me anything #writing advice #I'm happy to expound on this if you have further questions #it will be easier to give examples from PS once it's finished of course!

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thewertsearch · 11 months

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Ask Comp 19/10

That's true - we don't know for sure that Trollian can fully emulate Sburb's surveillance capabilities.

If the trolls were sufficiently motivated, though, they wouldn't actually need to. Sollux could probably hack one of the kids' computers, to gain access to their Sburb viewport - although if he did, he wouldn't need a camera to snoop on their messages.

Is there a paranoia Aspect? I think I've finally found my calling.

anonymous asked: heya! ive just finished re-reading your ENtIRE liveblog and i to send asks about some stuff but i waited to finish so im sendind everything at once! (im gonna send stuff in a bunch of small asks so cat can stop just one instead of the whole thing in case of accidental spoilers) (aslo hi cat!) (also its ninnoy, havent sent an ask in a while but i changed my pfp to something slightly more spoilery so im in anon now) [...] the jade pen pal thing, do you have any new theories on who it could be?

None! I'm sure that it's someone derived from Grandpa Harley, but everything else is a mystery.

I have no particular theories about who he is, how he knows Jade, where he got his hands on so many endgame weapons, or why he's got such an antiquated accent if he's watching movies from the 80s. I assume time travel is involved, but that doesn't really narrow anything down in a comic like this. He (she? they?) is a complete enigma, and I'll just have to wait to learn more.

ALsO WHEREs YOUR sONAs? we havent seen them in so long im afraid sahlle might have actueally died of meteor strike (joking of course) also have you realized that "sally" and "cat" are both one letter of from a valid kid name? you could lend her one of your "L"s

I've actually been workshopping some Quest stuff for Sahlee this week! I suppose I'd need to figure out her Title first, though, and for that, I'd need to get a more solid idea of her personality, and how her experiences on Alternia have shaped her.

in one of your last posts you seemed to imply that the multiverse exists inside the timeline, but ive always read it as the opposite, the timeline inside the universe that would explain why the trolls can pick any time from the humans universe to talk to them but cant have private conversations with their own futute/past selves, its not an inherent part of trollian, they are just outside the human timeline (the memos are still trollian being time fucky) dont know if that makes any difference but its a thought also i realize the tag may be unecessary due to my quirk, but its too late to stop now

(NOTE: quirk omitted for readability, but the substitutions are [t -> 7, s -> 2] - sort of a variant of Sollux's quirk. I actually don't think we've seen any quirks which add a 7, so the voice here is distinct from any trolls we've seen so far. I like it!)

Originally, my assumption was that each timeline contained a duplicate of the entire multiverse. Doomed timelines don't seem to let you communicate with other universes/dimensions, though, so they don't need to contain other sectors of reality. I'm currently of the opinion that doomed timelines only contain an instance of the dimension they were doomed in. The only timeline which contains the entire multiverse is the Alpha.

This mechanic keeps doomed timelines simple, but in-universe, I don't know why it exists. Much like the Alpha itself, it's a mystery I can only speculate about.

has the shipping chart been updated since the last time we saw it? also you (at some point) said that equius<>feferi was a controversial ship so i had to go back to check the notes and i was the only person i found talkig about it so i guess im the whole controversy? if thats the case i would like to thank you for recognizing me as the equius<>feferi number 1 hater (all jokes of course)

I got a few skeptical asks about Equius<>Feferi, but you're the only one who discussed it on the post itself. I guess by some measures, you are the most dedicated hater, because your hate was posted publicly! 🤣

I could make one or two changes, but I don't want to post a new chart until the kids meet the trolls in person, hopefully at the end of the Act!

The Scratch, naturally - but I'm also looking forward to seeing exactly how WV was Exiled. He's currently on Skaia, and Jack has lost interest in him, so who's actually sending him through the portal?

Tavros is barely a presence on the Land he's ostensibly the hero of, and all of his actions are being dictated by a third party who can physically control his body. This third party does not acknowledge or respect Tavros's own desires, effectively forcing him to play the game in a way that she personally approves of.

She claims it will make him stronger.

@bladekindeyewear submitted: That was a long, thorough, and fantastic response! It's fascinating seeing your opinion on these things-- and I'm glad to see that considering the questions we've given you seems to have made you more paranoid. But I'm just not entirely sure you're paranoid ENOUGH. Not yet. Much like how you just found that "BREEZE" quote in your Breath research, back at around the time you've now reached in the comic, we had dozens of theory-miners combing back through everything that had been said and shown in Homestuck, over and over again, searching for anything we might have missed that might have been of some importance. [...] So, uh….. how do I put this… Would you prefer to strictly handle that sort of thing all by yourself, as you've said? Which I'd agree is still the best way that you should keep to, for the most part? Or would you mind if I gave you just a CRUMB of an example, only one? A tiny bit of text that we in the theory community only found at about the time you've reached in the comic, even though it was more than a thousand pages earlier?

Shit, this is such a dilemma. I'm honestly really torn.

See, I'd probably find old fandom theories absolutely fascinating to analyze. I'd love to know how closely my ideas align with those of the early Homestuck fandom, and whether I'm saying anything really out-of-pocket. My analysis of Sollux's ~ATH script was apparently an original theory, and it's honestly one my proudest moments.

But that's also sort of the problem, isn't it? If I dive too deeply into other people's fan theories, they'll start to affect my own - and if I'm introduced to a really compelling fan theory, it could end up replacing any homegrown theories that I could have developed in lieu of it. If someone had send me a well-reasoned ~ATH theory before I did my own analysis, I'd probably have been less motivated to make the analysis in the first place. After all, many of my questions would already have been answered by a clever theory I just read.

People are free to send me their own off-the-cuff opinions on what's happening in the comic, or their own takes on any meta I write. I get a lot of asks like that, and they're some of my favorites. There are also asks which spoil a little too much, but I'm still interested in their takes, so Cat's saving them for later. We don't really delete asks - we just delay the ones that aren't necessarily appropriate for a blind liveblog.

Obviously there's a fine line here, and whether a given ask is a theory or just an opinion is a little subjective - but in my opinion, the influence that asks and submissions have had on my analysis has been relatively minor. I don't think many of my theories have been spawned from an ask, or killed by one.

This is a little different, though, because it's part of a theory that was crowdsourced over several years. It doesn't sound like something that could be inferred by an individual, so I'm not sure if it's something an individual liveblogger should necessarily know about? If I start crowdsourcing my analysis, my theories will be less Wertsearch and more fandom consensus, and I don't think I'd enjoy that as much.

I really want to know, but I think I'll enjoy the liveblog more if I don't. When I finish the comic, I'll gleefully analyze any fan theory that anyone sends me - but for now, I'll just have to wonder, and come up with theories of my own!

Yeah, we've really been getting into it with Vriska lately. I've enjoyed trying to explain and predict her actions, and I'm glad people don't think I'm going overboard when trying to analyze her.

When a character does something interesting, I don't like to move on until I have a theory about why they did it. Sure, it may be refuted later, but it needs to be something that's consistent with what I currently know about their personality.

Vriska takes a particularly long time to puzzle out in this way. Her motivations are derived from a complex web (lol) of factors, including Scratch, Spidermom, her rivalry with Terezi, her horrendous relationship with Tavros, classism, teenage hormones, quadrant politics, highblood society and the Alternian culture of violence. They all inform her decisions, and any combination of them could have been the catalyst for the latest Vriska Incident.

I want characters to make sense to me, and Vriska is written to deliberately challenge my attempt to achieve this. Her meta is fun to write, so I'm glad it's also fun to read!

#full liveblog #asks #act 5.2

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uraberika · 4 months

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First impressions of Victory Road by someone who has never played any of the inazuma games. I am halfway through watching a gameplay but I just had to share so BEWARE (MILD) SPOILERS AHEAD

the rock-paper-scissors gameplay is absolutely hilarious and i am so here for it and all of its unexplored potential

contrast that with the story which takes a very wild and serious turn from the beginning which is so spot on for the inazuma franchise i actually gasped. it is genuinely the most inazuma thing ever, i swear

the characters seem to evoke other characters but not enough to feel like copy-pastes which i really like

Sakurazaki looks like a mix between Kidou and Gouenji which i appreciate

Unmei is such an awkward little emo boi, i love him already. he still has the drive to protect ppl like Endou but without the sunshine attitude; he is way more analytical which is honestly sooo refreshing i could cry

speaking of sunshine, Kisoji is a 10/10 character already, instant fave, precious boy, must protect, and i have not expected him to become so relevant so early (i thought the others like that long haired goalkeeper would be in the forefront rather)

there are few girls but you can already see the ones who might become relevant to the story: Juno is Haruna/Akane coded, while Lilac evokes Natsumi for me but we shall see if they become relevant later on

pls pls let that female teacher be their coach, i have been missing women coaches from inazuma

i don't mind the simulated social media in it. it doesn't add much for me but it also helps in establishing how far away from the og series we are, which i appreciate

og characters becoming coaches was a top tier idea in GO too, i'm glad they kept it

i have said it before and will say it a hundred times, endou's kid being uninterested in soccer and being a little brat in the field is a genius move and whoever came up with that should deserve a raise. it seems a bit self-evident but when you think about it... endou had met and recruited/shown the ways of sakka yarouze to many such kids who did not care about football the Right WayTM and for his son to become the antithesis of his own philosophy... *chef's kiss*

i am gonna lose my mind because of the names though... like i will end up referencing half the cast in japanese bc that is how i learnt their names before the game came out but now i only know many other character's translated names so... my tagging system will be a mess

#inazuma eleven victory road spoilers #victory road spoilers #labs talks

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litgreadersroom · 9 months

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How To Use AO3 Tags

Want to find a fic but have no idea how to get started? Are you writing a fic and don't know how to tag it? Don't worry, you aren't alone. Tagging is hard and people don't always follow the same rules. But hopefully this will give you a place to start!

Relationships

Character/MC: romantic or sexual pairing with the fic's main character, may be named or referred to by pronouns or MC

Character/OC or Character/Original Character: romantic or sexual pairing with a named individual created by the author

Character/Character/OC: romantic or sexual relationship containing three individuals all involved with each other (note: this is not the correct tag for a love triangle, in that case, both relationships should be tagged separately)

Character/Reader: romantic or sexual pairing with an unnamed main character (you or Y/N), meant to feel as though the person reading the fic is in the story

Character & MC: platonic or familial relationships with the fic's main character, may be named or unnamed and referred to using pronouns or MC

Character & OC: platonic or familial relationships with a named character created by the author

Character & Reader: platonic or familial pairing with an unnamed main character (you or Y/N), meant to feel as though the person reading the fic is in the story

General: there are either no relationships of note in the fic or the fic does not focus on any relationships

Multi: often used for one-shot series or multiple POVs, should be used when there are 3+ pairings essential to the fic

The big question is always 'how many relationships should I tag in my fic?' Especially in villa fics, there are multiple pairings and the relationship tag can get convoluted. There is no set answer to the question, but the general rule of thumb is that if it's not a key plot point of the fic, don't add it as a relationship tag. In a villa fic, there are going to be multiple relationships, but other than the main pairing, tagging those relationships doesn't add anything. There's nothing more disappointing than looking for a fic for a specific ship only to learn that it's a background pairing you rarely see. This includes one-off sexual relationships and villa couplings that aren't romantic (and if you want to include those, additional tags are your best friend!).

Rating

General: very rare in LITG, but basically, any fic you'd be okay with a child reading

Teen and Up: fluffy, romantic fics with NO smut

Mature: implies the presence of sex or violence without going into detail

Explicit: detailed description of sex or violence

Not Rated: author did not select a rating, could be any of the above ratings

A lot of people get tripped up on the difference between M and E. When it doubt, think about the envelop analogy: a mature fic tells you that the character sent a letter in an envelope. An explicit fic goes into detail about how the character did it including describing putting the letter into the envelope, the taste of it as they licked the seal, etc. These lines can blur when it comes to chaptered fics; some authors may chose to rate a fic as mature but include explicit scenes, so be sure to check the additional tags.

Archive Warnings

Graphic Descriptions of Violence: gory and descriptive violence, it is up to the author as to what exactly falls under this category

Major Character Death: one of the main characters dies, does not have to happen 'on screen' (note: just because this tag isn't there, doesn't mean that there isn't death, just that the author doesn't consider that character to be a major character in the fic)

Rape/Non-con: pretty self-explanatory, does NOT include consensual rape play (although that SHOULD be included in additional tags)

Underage: any sexual activity in which one or both characters are under the age of 18, does not include kissing

Author Chose Not To Use: one of the above warnings might apply, either the author isn't sure if their content qualifies or wants to avoid spoilers, PROCEED WITH CAUTION

No Archive Warnings Apply: none of the archive triggers are included in the fic, does not mean that there are no triggers, but does not have any of the ones listed above

Characters

This is a section for you to include any characters included in the fic. The parties to your pairing should be included here, as well as other characters they interact with. General rule of thumb: if they're just mentioned in passing, you don't have to tag them, but if they have a conversation, it's worth a tag. The big exception to this is villa fics: obviously in a S2 villa fic, every S2 character is going to be mentioned, so you might not need to tag every S2 character unless they contribute to the plot in some way (and there is a tag for 'other love island characters' that exists to capture this). This is entirely up to the author's digression, but as a reader, please remember that just because they're mentioned in the character tags does not mean they are necessarily in a lot of the fic.

Additional Tags

Any tags that don't fit under the other categories. This is where an author can truly tell you what is going to be included in their fic, including any additional triggers that don't fall under the AO3 archive warnings. The nice thing about AO3 tag searches is that it is not exclusive, if you want to filter your search for an alternate universe, AO3 will include all variations of the tag in your search (i.e. AU, alternate universe, and alternate universe-sports AU will all come up on a simple AU search). This is the space to include tropes, triggers, setting, smut/kinks, etc.

Fandom

For the most part, the LITG fandom contains exclusively Love Island The Game-Video game tagged fics. But you will run into the occasional crossover or fusion fic. Crossover fics should be tagged with both fandoms as they contain characters from both. Fusion fics should be tagged with only the LITG tag as they contain exclusively LITG characters in the world of another fandom.

#litg #litg fanfiction #ao3 tagging #fic tagging guide

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dianneking · 1 year

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Loving You - Angsty Larissa/Reader Songfic

Summary: The night when Larissa faces off against Laurel is her wedding anniversary. Her wife is waiting for her, mulling over the hardships in their relationship. Angst. Hurt no comfort.

Tags: Songfic, Angst, Hurt no comfort, regrets, relationship struggles, mentions of cheating and divorce, pov 2nd person, spoilers for end of season 1, implied character death/serious injury, one single swearword, it's just a big pile of sadness, really.

Wordcount: 1200w.

A/N Hi. Sorry about the heartbreak. You can blame this fic on @weemssapphic , who challenged me to write a angsty fic with no happy ending. I had this song in my head for a long time and I was biding my time for the right angsty moment for it - the song's in italian, but I've put the English translation of the lyrics in the fic, to allow you to better grasp the mood. As always, you can listen to it as you read, or ignore the song altogether. AO3 link in title, and here's the cover by Maneskin of the song, Amandoti.

youtube

Loving You (Reader/Larissa)

Loving you tires me out.

You looked at the wax droplets, slowly making their way down the candles you had lit.

Drip, drip, drip, they incessantly marked the passing of time. You didn't stand up when the evening slowly turned to night, when the food grew cold and the candles slowly consumed themselves until they were nothing more than stubs.

You didn't even care about the wax falling on the table cloth anymore, even if it had been the good one, the one for special occasions.

It drains me inside

You didn't care about a lot of things anymore. Things that used to fill your heart with joy and sunshine suddenly were just activities you did on a routine, without feeling anything anymore.

Something that’s almost like laughing while you cry.

Like cooking for her. It used to be so much fun, flittering through the kitchen, mindlessly humming to the tunes coming from the radio. Larissa sitting on her favorite stool at the island counter, sipping on a glass of red, telling you bits and pieces of her work day, the conversation light with banter and shared jokes.

Light with your love for each other.

Loving you makes me tired

It hadn't been like that in a long time. She hadn't looked at you like that in a long time.

Melancholic

Even when she didn't pull an all-nighter at Nevermore, she came home so late and so tired and wound up from the day, that she usually chose to sit on the couch and mindlessly stare at the fire dancing in the fireplace you always made sure to have lit for her.

What can you do about it, that’s life

After getting one too many "Same as always, I don't want to talk about it", you had even stopped asking her how her day had gone.

You didn't know what caused the crease between her eyebrows these days, and you didn't dare to try to kiss it away anymore.

That’s my life.

The last time you had tried, she had pulled away, an apologetic smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes.

"I'm sorry, love. It's just… everything is a lot right now. Crowding me doesn't really help."

You had pulled away, of course. Boundaries had always been important in your relationship, and you'd be damned before you pushed her when she was having such a hard time at work.

Love me once again

You had swallowed your heartbreak, because you didn't want to add to the burden on her shoulders - you had to be strong for her, right? And she already had so much to worry about, without you being needy on top of that.

But seeing her recoil from your touch, a touch she used to crave, a touch that used to bring her relief from stress, not to pile more on her… It had opened a wound that had never fully healed again.

Do it tenderly

You just wished, for once, that she'd look at you like she used to. To see the spark in those blue eyes when they found you from across the room. To see those lovely lips curl up in a slight smile almost on instinct upon meeting your own gaze. One part complicity, one part attraction, one part inside joke… All wrapped together by warm love.

For one year, one month, one hour

Desperately

"Do you think she's cheating on you?"

The question from your best friend had not surprised you when the both of you had talked about it over coffee.

You had been asking yourself the same thing, after all. Maybe someone at school had caught your wife's attention, maybe all the late nights were not due to work alone…

Love me once again

But no, you didn't think that was it. Larissa had always been a woman of principle, and didn't seem the type to let lust dictate her actions.

Although that new addition to the staff, that redhead…Marilyn. You had seen the way her eyes sized up Larissa the few times you had gone to Nevermore since she'd become a teacher there. There was always a dark intensity to her gaze when she looked at your wife.

Had it been want? You weren't sure you remembered it well.

Do it tenderly

(You barely remembered the times when you'd go up to the school every day to have lunch with Larissa - they feel like a dream now. A happy, distant, unreal dream. That had been years before Marilyn ever stepped foot in Nevermore, back when your marriage was young and you were both in love)

Just for one hour

Desperately.

The last time you went there, to bring her some papers she had forgotten home, Larissa had been in a shouting match on the phone with Sheriff Galpin, and had not even acknowledged your presence.

You had left the papers and went back home, your heart heavy.

Loving you comforts me

You finally stood up from the table when the candles burned out. The house was dark, but you moved with the ease of someone so used to the space that even in the dark no stool was in your path, no corner jutted out too far. The darkness mirrored what you felt inside, and wrapped around you comfortably like an old friend.

In the sleepless nights

Mechanically you picked up all of the untouched food, trying without success not to let the traitorous tears trickle down your face.

It hurt.

It fucking hurt.

Something that fills old burning affairs

Even with all of the difficulties you both had had of late, you didn't expect her to simply not show up for your anniversary dinner. And without having the decency to call or text you or let you know anything at all.

Loving you comforts me

Had she forgotten? Had she been so overwhelmed with work that she had fallen asleep at her desk, as it had happened time and time again as of late? With no thoughts spared for her wife, waiting for her at home?

It makes me happy

Maybe she had fallen asleep in another woman's arms.

What can you do about it, that’s life

That’s my life.

Or maybe she wanted to send you an even clearer message. Maybe it was her way to tell you that your marriage was done. Maybe in the morning she'd send divorce papers over instead of coming back herself.

Love me once again

Do it tenderly

And you would sign them. Of course you would. Because you still loved her fiercely, painfully. And you'd never want to shackle her with your relationship. You didn't want her to grow to resent what you had, to resent you.

You'd set her free if she asked you to.

Just for one hour

Desperately

Because you loved her still. With all of your heart. Desperately.

Loving you

Is my life

It was in that moment that the phone rang, and you picked up without even checking the caller ID, forgiveness already on your lips, because surely, she was going to apologise and tell you it was all a misunderstanding, surely this time you'll be able to talk to her and tell her how much you loved her and maybe maybe that would be enough…

Love me once again

Do it tenderly

For one year, one month, one hour

Desperately.

Love me once again

Do it tenderly

Just for one hour

Desperately.

Loving you is my life

"Mrs. Weems? This is Dr. Miller, from Jericho hospital. It's about your wife."

Liked it? Here's my fanfiction masterlist to read more of my stuff!

#larissa weems x reader fanfiction #dianneking fanfiction #dianneking writes #dragonmist fanfiction #Larissa/Reader #Angst #larissa weems angst #the angst fairy strikes again #Youtube

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gaming-thoughts-by-an-idiot · 6 months

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Okay so this is prob a baldur's gate 3 spoiler so if you haven't # out that tag, then uh? Yes.

This is also obviously a rant.

So I'm on my 4th playthrough, and my take on the guardian/ emperor changed. Very. Fast. And not in a very nice way.

So the first time I was in love with my guardian, I was in a romance with Astarion, but holy shit I would give the world to my guardian, so yes u can imagine my fucking heartbreak of the moment I saw him, like I had to stop gaming cuz I felt so betrayed.

And then I obviously were just hurt and whatever but nice about it to him.

Then I decided I would actually romance him as my second character, mage dude, and well....

Things happened, and I got the same story he had like "Nobody knew who I was, I had so many friends" bleh bleh, and I remember feeling pretty like 🤨 when bone daddy- I mean Withers, said that mindflayers don't have souls like? Excuse you what about the emperor??

And I ofc slept with him, which u can do, and I obviously don't kink shame if you're into it, but i was not

I was hiding my face, peeking through my fingers, and then just regret everything ever.

And like? Romance was fine, and I didnt turn into a mindflayer at the end, cuz I was also dating Karlach and well... can't be a mindflayer then.

And the whole thing that HE was the founder of Baldur's gate? That HE IS him??? Honestly?

At that point I felt even more upset, and disgusted. Not only cuz of what he did, but just... him. And ugh. (I didn't do that quest the first time, cuz I didn't know)

Then come me as durge...

First of all... I've never loved a character more, maybe Gage from fallout 4, than my durge, a queen like wow💅🏻

And with her I was just done with the emperor, like... I expected him to be the same, ya know?

But no.

No.

He was NOT!!!! the same.

And this game have sent me on so many rollercoasters I wanna lie down and never get up

I feel so betrayed? So... stupid I feel so fucking stupid, cuz Withers SAYS mindflayers don't have souls?? And I????? Believe this tentacle monster????? Like wtf

And then only to learn that his "friends" were actually NOT???? But basically possessed to "hang out" with him?

And yeah he claims that he ate "only criminals" but how do we know??? If he lied about that? He probably ate other people too, he probably didn't even spiderman/batman himself around like he said/showed us he did.

As I played more and more durge I just felt disgusted and a fool, like?? I do talk, rant, to friends and yes even family, when I'm either yay obsessed about the game/character or to upset rant, and everybody knows about the beginning and end and on actually how much this hurt and I know its so stupid

But o m g I am so??? UGH

I hate him, like I fr fr fr hate him.

I'm playing as a Githyanki now, and I'll find out how that works out, but bruh.

Istg if I find out more shocking things, I will just nap for 3 days...

And I'm trying to stay as much gith as I can, but also how mellow my dude is, but yeah...

I fucking hope I don't have more to add to this, cuz that's gonna be in all capital letters istg

#gaming #gaming rant #baldur's gate 3 mindflayer #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #bg3 spoilers #spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 tav #baldur's gate 3 durge #bg3 oc #bg3 emperor #baldur's gate 3 emperor #baldur's gate 3 guardian

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fangsandfracturedhearts · 6 months

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Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 12: Catharsis

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6.3k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

"Then say it, Astarion,” she urges him. Her lower lip trembles. She unconsciously bites it to quell the movement. A single fang peeks out and glints in the sunlight, white as the purest snow. “Open the bond and say it.”

“I…I-” he trails off with a rasp and cracking voice. The words are lodged in his esophagus and anchored on the tip of his tongue. That presence in his mind tugs at his psyche, grappling for control. It speaks its ethereal omens. “ She will be your end. She spins her web of destruction even now. When she snares you, she will crush you in her grasp, and when you finally break, I will be there to claim you once again." He grimaces at the ill-portent and cedes, “Perhaps you are right. This is a conversation better had at home.”

She nods, crestfallen and stares at the lake with a longing look that he does not like to see upon her face. It’s the look of defeat. All hope is lost and withered away. She yearns for stillness and obscurity to quiet her mind. Yes, he knows the expression inlaid on her features well.

Is he putting her in further danger if he says it? Could the voice in his head be speaking truths?

He’s said it before. What stops him?

Is it a lie? He is no liar.

He said it before….

He said it….

Gods. It’s hard to think clearly with this tittering in his head, defiling his thoughts with its blighted ballad. The presence screams that she is a threat. She has cast some sort of spell on him. “A trick!” It chimes, “A clever, beautiful trick by a clever, beautiful sorceress. She means to unravel you! She means to break you apart, crumble you into pieces and dance on your ashes!”

She would not do such a thing. Would she? Could she? He has used his beauty to mislead many in the past centuries. Is it possible she is doing the same? She cannot scourge him physically, but mentally… well, that is a fate far worse than even death.

She would not trick him. She need not trick him. He already lov-

Hells below, he cannot even think it, let alone say it aloud.

He can force her. He can make her his with naught but a thought. She already belongs to him. He can pull her strings and make her dance, a puppet upon his world stage because he is the Vampire Ascendant, and he can take anything he pleases.

No. He grimaces at the sadistic notion and how good and powerful it makes him feel. His thoughts become contorted and serpentine too easily these days, a pit of snakes twisting themselves into tangled knots.

She wants something real. She deserves something real, but what in the Hells does real look like? Is it supposed to be like in the silly stories he’s read? Surely not. Those are just a conglomerate of lovely words, trussed into pretty lies that the eyes can view.

He hears them before he sees them. They stand idle in the shadows, trying to hide their heartbeats behind the thundering hoofs of the horses and the wind whipping through the trees. They do not smell like powdered iron-vine.

They are learning.

They should not know he is here, but he does not have time to ruminate on it. His heart detonates in his chest, leaping around like a frightened bird in a cage. The presence in his head serenades him, pulling at its chains, pleading to be unleashed. He needs to get her away from here, from them and himself, before he sinks.

“Run!” He commands.

She hesitates, her pouty lips set into a hard line while she scowls at him and protests his commands. She draws the Weave. It shimmers around her like a vapour in the air. She is beautiful.

She challenges him at every damn turn. He loves it. He loves her for it.

He loves her…

She will not leave of her own accord. Even if he begs, an army cannot make her leave his side, and he knows it. He knows what he must do, but he does not wish to do it. Taking her control from her, forcing her into servitude, the idea used to thrill him. When did that stop?

Yet, he will always do what he must, even if it pains him as he has always done.

He confiscates her control, “Run to the manor as fast as you can and stay there until I return. You will stop for no one and nothing.”

She’s going to berate him later for this, but at least she will be alive to admonish him.

She sprints, and he summons every werewolf, every bat, and every ghoul he can, “Follow her!” He sends several away as the hunters rush him. He parries and dodges, sinking his blades into ribs, necks, and chests. “Protect her at all costs. Signal me when she is out of the forest and return here.”

Gods, his head hurts as he’s torn, the rattling of chains in his head splitting his concentration, but he must make sure she makes it out before he can give in and be overtaken. What will he lose this time? Whenever he drowns, something is stolen from him - a memory becomes snapped and riven like looking into a broken mirror, another part of the real him lost.

Once he hears the baying signal, he lets go and allows himself to be consumed, and all is black, black, black.

Shadowheart tugs on your limbs and clothes, wrapping her arms around your waist and heaving with all her strength. Her voice resounds, but it sounds like a faint, distant whisper, like the sigh of a weary breeze over barren plains. You feel like you’re staring at yourself from a distance. Fatigued, faded and lusterless, you’re a relic of what was and what could have been, just another corpse littering the earth. The skyline is the indigo and blue hues of impending dawn, and the stars no longer stare down on this tragedy as they wink out like eyes shutting against an unexpected bright light. When the sun rises, you will float away and be forgotten in the sands of time.

You were so close. Gods, so fucking close. In the end, Astarion had been right. Love hailed itself a saviour and became your destroyer.

“The sun is rising,” Shadowheart pants, panicked as she tries to pry your fingers from their clutch on Astarion, but they might as well be fused to him. “We don’t have a second longer to lose.”

Each time you blink, a new memory appears and plays in your mind’s eye. Some good. Some bad. Some terrible. Is this what they mean when people say your life flashes before your eyes at death? The reliquary opens, and your hopes, dreams and broken pieces are laid before you to gaze upon.

“Astarion would not want this!” Shadowheart raves, agitation and dread, making her voice tremble. She shakes your shoulders and hauls on them. “He would not want you to die!”

I am already dead.

The first thin golden strings of the newborn sun weave their way through the trees, a grand lace of radiant light that falls upon your pearlescent, colourless skin. Shadowheart screams, her heartbeat pounds in your ears, her blood a tidal wave through her veins as she tries to cocoon you with her body and limbs so the light cannot consume you.

“I’ve got her, Shadowheart,” Astarion’s faint voice charges the air. “I’ve always got her.”

You barely catch it, another whispering flutter in the air, but his chest shudders underneath you, and you’re plunged into your body. Your eyes snap to his, which are open in a hairline split. Crismon barely peeks through behind thick lashes, but somehow, you know he’s looking straight at you.

You grab his hands, interlocking your fingers with his, “Astarion?”

He does not answer, but his fingers twitch, and his grip tightens, if only by a barely perceivable fragment.

Shadowheart clambers, her hands glowing the baby blue hue of her magic so brightly that she could rival the sun as she focuses every morsel of power she has left. She slams her splayed hands onto Astarion’s chest with a thump that makes him wheeze and cough, and he’s bathed in vivid blue.

“You’re not burning.” Shadowheart’s chest swells and recedes like waves over a storm-tossed ocean with exertion, “Is he?”

Astarion stills again, eyes closed. Yet, you do not burn as the rays of light prance over your skin. Your ears perk and quiver as they catch the faint, feeble beating in his chest.

You smile at Shadowheart and throw your arms around her, “His heart beats. He lives. Thank you, Shadowheart. Good Gods, thank you.”

You sit cross-legged on the bed beside Astarion and fixate on him. Shadowheart helped you get him home and into bed, but he’s still not stirred more than some muttering and twitching in his sleep in three days. You’ve not left his side to sleep or eat, and you’re getting hungry. Very hungry. Shadowheart refuses to leave despite your insistence that she is not safe with you. With each passing second, it gets harder and harder to ignore her presence. Astarion’s heartbeat is of no concern to you, but hers… good Gods. Hers sounds like a culinary delight being offered to a starving ogre. You forgot how hard it was to be around the living with their delicious-smelling blood and beating hearts, begging to be tasted.

I’m a monster.

Shadowheart knocks and lets herself into Astarion’s bedroom. She yawns and stretches. You can hear her bones cracking and grimacing at the sound assaulting your ears, “Still nothing?”

“No,” you mumble, clutching fistfuls of bedsheets to stop yourself from scratching your skin in front of her. “His heart sounds stronger and beats more rhythmically, but he hasn’t woken.”

Shadowheart nods toward him, “May I?”

She’s been continuing to heal him every day as much as she can until she needs to sleep and recuperate. You’re surprised she’s putting so much effort into helping him. You thought she hated him, but there is worry etched into the lines of her expression and sadness you did not think you would see, at least when it came to him. You push yourself against a wall, splaying your hands against the wood. You cannot let her get too close to you. You are dangerous. Being a vampire spawn has not been as easy as Astarion made it look. Although, it is substantially less difficult when you’re well-fed.

“Go ahead,” you nod at Shadowheart with a small smile, “but always be wary of me. I cannot be trusted.”

She scoffs, laying a hand on Astarion and reciting incantations in a repeating melody, “You lived with me for a year, and you only tried to kill me once. I trust you. You have better control than you believe, but I will be on guard.”

You wince at the memory. It had been only a few weeks into living with Gale and Shadowheart after they found you in the sewers, starving, writhing and feral with hunger. Astarion had made being a spawn look easy. He could be around blood and gore, and it barely seemed to affect him, but you learned quickly that it was not as simplistic as that. Shadowheart and Gale could not understand why you would not leave your room or why you barricaded yourself in there with every spare piece of furniture you could. One night, you had ventured down, and Shadowheart had been cooking after having had quite enough of Gale’s dry and tasteless food. She nicked herself with a knife chopping vegetables. A small wound, but the blood in the air sent you into a feeding frenzy, blacking out everything but that delicious sanguine tang and you had lunged at her. Gale cast sleep on you before you could bite. Shadowheart laughed it off, but it was a wake-up call to you.

You are dangerous. You cannot be trusted, and you cannot trust yourself. Bloodlust overrides everything else far too easily.

Shadowheart’s magic washes over him again but with little noticeable effect, and she frowns at her palms as if somehow it’s her fault.

“He’s improving,” you assure her, disheartened by her sullen look. “Every time, he improves. His heart beats stronger.”

She clenches her fist with a nod and a grin, walking over to the chair at the other end of the room. She gives you once over and states, “You’re hungry.”

You swallow hard, crawl onto the bed and place your hand on his chest. You can feel his heartbeat in your palm, and it comforts you, “Yes. I’m very hungry,” you don’t bother trying to conceal it. “You should leave Shadowheart. I know you mean well, and I am grateful for all your help, but I am not Astarion. I do not have the control he does.”

“He keeps you well fed,” she points at Astarion. It’s not a question, and you cock your head at her, “You were skin and bones when you left, but you’re looking healthy again. You’re looking like yourself. I imagine you’ve not gotten much better at hunting, so he must do it for you.”

Your fingers curl into him, “He’s trying to teach me,” you laugh lowly for the first time in days. “He says I’m atrocious. I believe he called it an affront to the gods themselves,” you try to mimic his voice while rolling your eyes. “He takes me out every night, usually.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Shadowheart’s brows pinch. “You said you didn’t have time to explain it, but we have nothing but time while we wait on him. Gods. Is he always this lazy?”

She’s trying to cheer you up, and you giggle at her. You’ve missed her. Shadowheart was not overly pleased when you showed up as a spawn, but she accepted it when you told her it was what you wanted. Shadowheart has been the only one, other than Astarion, who you can be brutally honest with regarding your morbid urges.

“He always did enjoy his beauty sleep,” you shrug with a giggle, and she grins. “The Rite had more consequences than we assumed,” you sigh, “Not entirely surprising. As for what exactly, I cannot be sure yet, but I think it would be best if he tells you himself - if he wants to.”

“I understand. If he allows it, I will help any way I can,” she nods. She will not pry because she would want the same choice if it were her, and you would never give away her secrets, just as you refuse to give away his, “You need not be alone in this.”

Hells below. Shadowheart never fails you.

“I could hug you right now, Shadowheart.” You smile, fangs bared, because you do not need to hide from her, “But can we perhaps wait until I’ve eaten and you’re not looking so godsdamn delicious?”

“I’ll have you know that I am as delicious as you are pale. I will have to tell Astarion to get you out into the sun more often,” she giggles as you groan. You’ve had enough sun for a while after your last dalliance with it, “I will take the hug when you’re feeling less peckish. I like my blood in my veins.”

Peckish is an understatement. You could eat a bear, or two, or three, or perhaps an army of them right now. Those hunger cramps and spasms in your muscles are starting to make themselves known and hard to control. Your mouth is a salivating spring, and you have to swallow excessively lest you drool. If Astarion does not wake soon, you will have to push Shadowheart out with physical force if she does not heed your warnings.

“You really should think about going home, Shadowheart,” you urge with a plea that wobbles your intonation. Your hand hovers over bandaged wounds. The superficial ones healed long ago, but these. Gods. Any of these would have killed a mortal man instantly, and he has several, “Astarion just needs time to heal, I think.”

Shadowheart’s eyes flash with that pig-headed defiance you’ve come to know, and she sniffs, “I’m not leaving until he wakes,” she smirks as you grumble under your breath at her, “Is there anything you can tell me about what is going on with him?”

“I know this will be a challenge for you,” you smirk at her with a knowing glower, “But when he wakes, try not to make him angry. You two have always been like cats and dogs, but try not to push him too far. When he gets angry…. Well, let’s say he is not himself.”

“Don’t make him angry?” Shadowheart scoffs, crossing her arms and turning her nose up with a brashly twisted mouth, “Gods. That will be quite the task. He can be exceptionally insufferable.”

“I heard that.” Astarion grumbles, clicking his tongue while opening his eyes sluggishly, “I am a positively magnificent bastard, aren’t I?”

“Astarion!” You nosedive into him, wrapping your arms around him and basking in the warmth of his skin.

“Well, hello, little love,” he purrs comfortingly. His arm wraps around you and compresses you against his chest with his nose in your hair. He thrusts you back with one arm and scans you, “You are alright?”

“Me!?” You fight the overwhelming desire to shake him. He’s just woken up, and he’s asking about you? “You stupid, foolish idiot! When you are on your feet, you and I need to talk.”

He chuckles, running his fingers through your hair, “I expected as much.”

Shadowheart stands, “I hate to break this up, but may I?”

She gestures to Astarion, and you nod, pulling out of Astarion’s grip with a reluctance that makes your skin crawl. Astarion arches a brow at your retreat. Shadowheart’s magic infuses his skin, healing him slightly further, and he looks at her confused.

“Thank you for taking care of her, Astarion,” Shadowheart emphasizes with a genuine smile. “She’s looking well. I owe you gratitude for that. She would not tell me what’s happened to you, but I would like to help if I can - if you will accept it. I don’t need your answer now, but think about it.”

“Uh,” Astarion is taken aback by Shadowheart’s authentic appreciation, but he recovers his detached mask quickly. “You’re welcome,” he says cooly, “I will think on your request. Please tell me this does not make us,” he cringes, “friends.”

Shadowheart scoffs, “Gods, no!”

“Good,” Astarion giggles. “I do positively enjoy our squabbling, after all.”

Astarion’s eyes swing to you, pressed against the wall as if you’re trying to melt into it. Your jaw is clenched hard, teeth rasping. Try as you might, you cannot hide the discomfort you’re feeling, and you look away from him, uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze. He will recognize bloodlust.

Astarion pushes himself upright, “How long have I been out? Please tell me she’s at least tried to eat.”

Shadowheart answers before you do, “Three days and no. She has not left your side,” she points at you with a scowl, “Despite my insistence that she do so. You know how stubborn she can be.”

“Hells below.” Astarion is out of bed before you or Shadowheart can comprehend what’s happened, and he pulls you close to him with a tight grip on your waist, “I thank you for your assistance, Shadowheart, truly, but you should leave. It’s not safe for you to be around her. I will think about your offer and walk you out.”

Shadowheart puts her hand up with a shake of her head, “That is unnecessary. I can show myself out. Take care of her, Astarion. Do not make me regret saving your hide.”

Astarion chuckles, “I can only promise I will take care of her. You have my word."

Shadowheart smiles at you, “I will be expecting that hug once you’re feeling better.”

The shattered glass crunches under your feet as you walk through the shambles of what remains of the mirrors, vases and paintings you ravaged. Little pieces of mirror reflect the candlelight, spraying it in a flickering array across the walls and ceiling like a conglomerate of stars. Your fingers tremble over the curtains, but the anguish is fresh in your mind, and you can’t get yourself to open them. It feels grave to be away from Astarion, even though he’s upstairs, and you keep your hearing trained on his heartbeat, afraid that if you don’t, it might arrest.

With a sigh, you bend down and start to collect the broken fragments of the mirror that spurns your existence and remains empty despite your fingers gripping the surface. You breathe on the glassy surface. You know nothing will happen, but for a reason unknown to you, the refusal to acknowledge you sways you in a sudden grip on anger. You squeeze it, and the sharp edges slice into your fingers. Blood wells up, gliding and smearing on the surface, and you grin as if you’ve forced the damn thing to accept you are real.

“Decided to do a little redecorating, I see,” Astarion chuckles, arching a brow at the mess.

You whirl, compressing the pieces of mirror in your hand so hard they start to buckle and splinter further. You want to berate him for sending you away, screaming at him for compelling you and scolding him for dying and almost leaving you alone for eternity, but once your eyes meet his, the anger is washed away by relief. He’s alive, and for now, that’s all that matters.

I have an eternity to chastise him for being an idiot.

“Sorry.” It’s the best you can do.

Astarion walks toward you, and even though the floor is littered with rubble, his footsteps still make no sound. His fingers slip down your arm to the hand that’s clutching those broken pieces, blood still rolling down the surface.

“It’s okay, little love.” He coos, taking the fragments from you and letting them fall back to the floor. He kisses your blood-smeared fingers, “It was all horrific. Wasn’t it? We can redecorate.”

We?

Gods. He talks as if nothing has happened, and it vexes you, but you slip your arms around him, push your ear to his chest, and enjoy that steady and strong beat almost stolen from you.

Astarion kisses your temple, then forehead and then tilts your head up and moulds his lips to yours in a lingering kiss before pulling back and scowling at you. His voice is coarse and booming, “What you did in the forest was bloody stupid! What in the Hells were you thinking? You would have burned to death had Shadowheart’s damn wailing not roused me.”

“You don’t get to lecture me on stupidity.” You push him away and meet his ire with your own. “You should not have sent me away! I could have helped.”

“It’s not your problem,” he shakes his head.

“Oh, Gods,” you scoff at him, fingers curling into fists at your side, “Not this bullshit again! Your problems are my problems. When will you learn that?”

“No.” He hisses, “I failed you once, and the Gur nearly killed you. I will not fail you again.”

“You imbecile!” You scream, starting to weep, and you put your hand on a wall to keep yourself steady as the leaden weight of everything that’s happened descends, “You died! You were dead! You… you almost left me here all alone.”

The blaze of anger in his eyes winks out, sterilized by grief. Astarion’s brows rise, and the corners of his mouth turn down, “Oh, love, no.”

Astarion’s arms fold around you as your knees give out, and he braces you against him with a hand at the back of your head. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles with his lips against your forehead.

You almost want to push him away, to give yourself some distance, because you are falling too hard, too fast, but he guides your head up, and warm ruby eyes unite with yours. The connection with him croons the invitation to open, and you don’t hesitate to answer. Everything floods in a downpour. All your nerves, synapses, and neurons buzz with the efflux of information. You squeeze your eyes shut as your body attempts to orient itself. You inhale several shaky breaths as his heart beats inside your chest. It’s uncomfortable, but Hells, you will gladly take that pain.

The flood eases and becomes pleasant, languid streams that cross softly, slowly, and you are one. You are whole. You are complete.

Before you can open your eyes again, you feel Astarion’s lips ghost over yours, and you part them for him in a gasp as you feel his desire ignite. A raw, almost feral passion, unbridled and uninhibited. It’s so potent it’s intoxicating, and your yearning bursts and throbs between your thighs. Astarion kisses you with ferocity, and his tongue darts into your mouth. His taste is rich, deep and dark, and you moan as you drink him in. His fingers slip into your hair at the back of your neck, holding you firmly while he pushes your back against the wall. He grinds his hips into you with a resonating growl as he pins you.

Good Gods. With the connection to him open, you feel everything. His pleasure. Your pleasure. All brimming and teeming as one ocean of bliss you’re going to drown in. Without his smooth skin against yours, you feel painfully bare, and you rip open his shirt, flinging buttons askew. Astarion slips your dress from your shoulders with a smug smirk and lustfully hooded eyes, and it pools at your feet as Astarion lets his shirt fall.

Pushing yourself against him, you sigh with a pining whimper. He feels pure and warm as sunshine, and he is the light that parts the gloom of sorrow that has clutched your heart for the past few days.

Astarion parts your folds, spreading them and stroking the slickness. He is not slow this time. He is not teasing. He is feverish in his need for you. The pads of his fingers find your aching center, swollen with want, and quickly settle into a rhythm that makes your body twitch and spasm with white-hot pleasure, making you arch off the wall. You moan loud and animalistic, whimpering his name like a verse that’s stuck in your head, and his throat steals your moans with his lips on yours as if he can taste the euphoria in your cries.

Tension coils in your belly, and Astarion moans deep and velvety smooth as you crest and dissolve for him. He doesn’t waste a moment. You can feel his urgency from the connection, and it makes you just as rabid. You need to feel him stretching you, massaging your walls, making you his.

With a quick snap of his wrist, his trousers are below his hips. His cock is hard and yearning, twitching in the candlelight. Astarion grips your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist, and he buries himself into you with one quick thrust.

The pleasure is so intense, either his or yours or maybe it’s both combined, you do not know, but you clench around him so hard he hisses when he inhales and groans, bracing himself with his forearm on the wall as if he might fall over.

“F-fuck,” he pants. He pulls out slowly and slams back into you with a snap of his hips. “Tell me you love me,” he commands with another pump, plunging himself deeper.

Your ears barely perceive the words he’s saying while you sink into your mind-numbing ecstasy, but you know what he wants intuitively, “I love you,” you whimper, lacing your fingers into his soft curls.

Astarion’s pace increases, uncontrolled and more frantic, as he rears his hips back and drives into you. He pushes himself as close as he can possibly get while he pumps his into you.

“Again,” he instructs huskily as he finds a pace that snares all your senses. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” you breathe, panting, bucking your hips to push against his thrusts, rolling them in the way you know drives him crazy. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” you repeat a whispering hymn.

Every nerve quivers in bliss, and your eyes roll back. You clench, gripping his cock tighter and tighter with every thrust.

“Come,” he growls the command darkly.

Your lips crash into his as you comply, your body submitting to his influence. It feels like a dream to obey, and you crash into your orgasm like a wave crashing upon a rocky shore. You cry out, fingers raking his skin, thighs squeezing him as you’re cast upon that shore time and time again.

“Good girl,” he purrs. His hips stutter as the tremors massage his girth. “Again,” he barks with a groan, his breath hitching as he plunges into you erratic and needy.

Every pump of his hips is an ode to possession. Every twitch of his cock is a chorus of control. Every time he drives you to your peak is a sonnet to claim.

He owns you. You belong to him. You are his.

Yes, take me and make me yours.

You don’t know if they are your thoughts or his, but you hear his answer in your mind as it drifts on the slipstream of your bond.

“I will.”

Good Gods. Astarion means to make you shatter around him over and over until your body cannot possibly splinter any further. He means to take, take and take until you have nothing left to give, and even then, he means to take more.

And he does.

The smell of Honeysuckle, Vanilla and brandy is heavy and prevalent, arousing you gently back to your senses. Your eyes remain closed with lingering fatigue. The muscles in your body ache with an obnoxiously constant pang, and you groan and grumble under your breath at the sensation. There’s a serene tranquillity rife that you cannot quite explain, like a peaceful and undisturbed pond. You’re warm as if swaddled in a blanket made of sunlight.

Sunlight. Sun…

No. You should not be in the sun!

Your eyes snap open, and you flounder, graceless and clumsy. Steam rises all around you, and water swooshes and splashes over the sides of a ceramic-tiled tub, splashing against the floor.

“Easy, love,” Astarion chuckles, pulling you against his chest to stop your inelegant lumbering. “You’re alright.”

Your head quirks up, and your eyes meet his gaze. Candlelight treads and sways in the sanguine sea, and kindness coruscates, making them radiate softly.

You blink, and your hand slices through the water, “What in the Hells?”

“A bath,” he grins handsomely, sweeping wet strands of hair from your cheek and behind your ear tenderly. His fingers trace your jaw, “Apologies. I may have gotten a little… carried away.”

Carried away is one word for it, I suppose.

“Oh,” he giggles, beautiful and lighthearted, as careless as a child at play. It makes you smile. You came so close to never hearing that sound again. “And what’s the other word for it?”

Shit. He’s still in my head.

“Yes,” he kisses your temple, hugging you tighter. His fingers skim across your skin comfortingly, “I am still in your head as you are in mine.”

“You put me in a bath?” You arch your brow at him.

“It was necessary,” he smirks arrogantly. “I made quite a mess of you.”

Astarion reaches down, his fingers parting your folds, and you jump, confused at what exactly his goal is. “Relax,” he purrs. “This is not about sex.” His fingers rub over you gently, washing you and easing that soreness his enthusiasm caused. His feelings of affection and genuine, thoughtful compassion roll through the connection. “Unless you wish to go for round four? Or was it five? Or six? I could be persuaded.”

You groan and slump down further into the bath. Despite your exhaustion, your body responds to his touch as it always does, fire igniting within your stomach and desire making your skin prickle.

“Good Gods, Astarion,” you mumble with a sigh. “No more.”

“I thought not.” Astarion lathers his hands with soap and starts washing your arms, chest and back. He massages your stiff muscles with perfect pressure.

Should I be angry with him?

“Oh, don’t be sour,” he tsks, clicking his tongue and nuzzling your cheek. “You enjoyed yourself. I felt it. I felt it every godsdamn time. I almost couldn’t contain myself. You’re lucky I have such excellent control. That would undo a lesser man immediately.”

“You are full of yourself, aren’t you?” You laugh. Astarion’s cheerful mood is infectious, and you can’t help but feel a little bubbly with happiness yourself.

He shrugs, “Can you truly blame me? I am rather impressive.”

“I think it’s me that’s impressive,” you smirk with a wolfish grin, “If the exultant Vampire Ascendant could barely contain himself.”

“Sassy girl,” he tuts with a chuckle. “You are inconceivably enchanting. Even with an eternity, I could never get enough of all this.” He gestures over your body with seductive eyes but becomes more serious, “And whatever this is, between us, I could never tire of it, my love.”

My love…

The words descend in your mind, slow and tortuous like a feather falling from a great height. He does not love you. He said as much himself, and his silence and reluctance when you pressed him only cemented that. Yet, his actions speak different words, and his thoughts and feelings that you can feel utter different syllables. You don’t know which language to believe.

“I do,” his answer floats in your head, not out of his mouth.

You push away from him, whirling around in the enormous tub, splashing additional water over the edges. You need to see him, be able to watch and look in his eyes. His brows furrow in confusion, and he looks at the swaying water, “At least, I think I do.”

“What happened downstairs was not love. You want to possess me, control me and claim me. You want me to belong to you. I felt it,” you frown. It’s all so godsdamned confusing. “You craved ownership, not a partner. Is that love to you?”

Astarion’s eyes widen, and his hand reaches for you, but you bat it away, and he stops his advance. You need distance if you have any hope of keeping your wits about you.

“You want to be taken and claimed. You want to be mine,” he snarls, but there’s a sorrow weaved in between that choler. “I felt it. I heard it. I do not understand why you deny yourself these truths. Why do you continue to fight me?”

He’s clever, always able to take your questions, skirt them artfully and turn them around on you, but you know his tricks. He’s partly correct. You do want to be his, to belong, but you do not want to be owned and controlled.

“You didn’t answer the question, Astarion.” You retort bluntly, narrowing your eyes at him.

You have to tread carefully over these hot coals. If you challenge him too much, you’re likely to be reacquainted with his anger made flesh.

Astarion takes a deep breath, calming himself and smoothing his severe expression, “I already admitted I got carried away and caught up in the intensity of the moment. Sometimes, my thoughts become twisted. What more do you want me to say?”

You can accept that sometimes his thoughts are out of his control. You’ve heard the chittering yourself, and it’s like a flesh-eating infection that grazes upon contemplations. If you want him to continue being open, you must be able to withstand his darkness.

You can and you will because you must.

Always the lovesick hero.

“You know what I want you to say,” you whisper with a tear glistening in the corner of your eye. You know he won’t say it. You can feel his aversion as if it were your own.

“I can’t,” Astarion says flatly. He does not offer a reason. His fingers comb through his hair, and he shudders as if ice was suddenly thrust upon his warm skin. “You want something real? I’m not entirely sure what real looks like, but I will try. For you, I will try. But I cannot say what you’re asking right now.”

“Then I think this conversation is over,” you growl bitterly while climbing out of the bath.

Water drips down your body as you wrap yourself in one of the plush towels. You can feel his pain through the bond, and it’s tearing you apart on the inside, but you cannot fathom being his pet. You are not an object to be owned and flaunted, and no matter how badly you want him, you cannot allow him to treat you as such.

He does not speak as you walk away, your feet leaving wet marks across the floor. You don’t turn when you speak. You cannot see the sorrow reflected in his eyes, “And Astarion, if you ever compel me like that again, I will walk out and never return.”

His answer is calculated and numb, “I will do what is necessary to protect you.”

“Then you better be ready to lose me,” you snarl. “I am not an object you can wield when it suits your needs and put away when you’ve finished with me.”

“So be it,” he concludes quickly.

This time, you close the door in your head, although you’re reluctant to do so as you tread the hall back to your room. You are hollow once again, but you fill the void with hatred. You will find out how the Gur knew of your whereabouts and descend on the wings of death.

You know exactly where to start.

Elowyn.

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, I hope you enjoy this, darlings!

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

I felt terrible for the cliffhanger, so I spent much of my free time writing this week so I could keep mostly on schedule :)

#astarion fanfic #ascended astarion #bg3 #astarion x you #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion smut

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