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oops-all-concrete · 8 months

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Hello lovelies! I have written more fluffy headcanons for you, this time in the form of;

Romanced Companions comfort Tav, who's in shocked after having to be revivified.

Essentially they're kinda shook/out of it, like, the other companions come back and tell the romanced companions "Yeah, they have been out of it since they got up. Idk what to tell you" (If it makes anymore sense, it could even be Tavs first reviving)

Prepare for fluff, hurt/comfort, lots of hugs, lots of sweetness. Essentially, all your Tavs are getting the princess treatment they deserve!

(ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE ON MY LAST HEADCANONS POST OH MY GOD?? 400+ NOTES IS INSANE)

Lae'zel -

Once informed Lae'zel becomes weary. Something must be wrong, Tav is never so- elsewhere. She goes out of her way go ask Halsin for antidotes, ask Shadowheart to remove curse, but upon going to ask Astarion if he can smell blight in their blood, he suggests dying and being brought back in any way can be challenging. "We're not made to come back." Now, comfort isn't her strong suit- but Gods she was desperate to aid them. She brings carefully decorated food (like a fun charcuterie board Gale helped with) over and helps them out of armour, massaging their tired muscles and feeding them by hand. She doesn't cuddle, but she stays all night, pressed as close as possible. For protection, of course. (The rest of the companions get a private earful about keeping them safe. She knows they're scared of her and will exploit it)

Shadowheart -

She gets a strange feeling before the group even returns- something in her feels off. So when she sees everyone back in one piece, she's relieved- until she isn't. Karlach tells her immediately, seeing her worry. "Only been revived in the last hour. Been real quiet too" Shadowheart can't stand her lover being so lost in their own eyes. Shadowheart gets an idea- and invited Tav to help her cook for the camp, but sulks at their mindless nod. She's not deterred- she holds up every ingredient to Tavs nose, gets them involved with simple tasks and gets them to taste test. Everything to get their senses wired until they come back to her. The minute she sees a smile on their lips again, she's kissing them too. "Thanks for coming back...would have been boring without you" She smiles into every kiss. (The food might be burning, but who cares?)

Wyll -

Wyll always greets Tav when they come back, happy to see them alive, but he can tell something is wrong immediately. "Tav is still adjusting to being alive again, I think. I don't know if they can talk right now" Shadowheart says. Wyll approaches Tav slowly, taking their face in his hands and gently kissing their forehead. "Hi love." He smiles. "Can I take you back to my tent? I'd love to get you into a bath, if that's okay?" He asks, trying not sound certain. Tav gets a small nod out, but Wyll asks again several times until Tav is in the bath, Wylls hands on their scalp, gently washing their hair and body of blood. He tells them about his day, a story he was telling Karlach- how glad he is to see them alive. Because they are alive. And Tav clearly needed to hear it. The reminder makes them human once again, settling into the warm water. He wordlessly, but diligently cleans them, head to toe, the odd kiss to their brow here and there.

Karlach -

When Karlach peers out of her tent and sees Lae'zel, Astarion and Wyll back, she frowns, not seeing Tav right away. She finds Tav with Gale, unsure what to do with them, and explains what Lae'zel told him. "Awful knock to the head. Went straight down, not even a yell" He frowns. Karlach wants nothing more than to throw her arms around them, but she gets a better idea, taking Tav to the lakeside and brings them for a swim. Wyll and Shadowheart advise against it, but Karlach persists. She strips them both and gently pulls Tav over herself to drift. They react immediately to the water but still and calm, clinging to her as they float. "It's alright soldier, you're off duty now. I've got you" She says, thumbing some of the dried mud off their face with a patient smile.

Gale -

Gale's a mess. I mean, specifically now. Tav looks like they're seeing the sun for the first time, and needs to be told not to stare. He gets them sat down and tries to comfort with words, but it all comes out as "Ah, needn't worry, you've got one of Waterdeeps finest, and I didn't fall asleep during all my herbalism and medical weave classes. I'm sure I have something- I know I have something-" And he sits beside you and reads in his tent, leaning Tav against his shoulder to keep them awake. He ruins his hair keeping it out of his eyes, throws off his bracers to avoid catching pages- and it takes him a moment to realise- Tav is asleep on him. He has bored them to sleep. Tav is drooling. And Gale is relieved. They look like themself again, pressing their face into his arm. The breakfast they're greeted with is almost worth dying, trust me.

Astarion -

Aatarion knows immediately, he doesn't have to be told. He knows that look and all the horrors behind it, not letting anybody get in his way as he got to Tav. But- well he doesn't know what to do, really, nobody did the right thing when Astarion had been "revived" so he didn't know what it looked like. But he had an idea. He slowly walks them to sit in his tent, strips their armour and asks them to wait. He's back 2 minutes later with a washcloth and water bowl in hand, and mid-way through washing Tavs face, Wyll brings some bread, fruit and orange juice. Astarion smiles and makes the odd "You must be famished" between pressing grapes to their lips. "I can see you've been doing your bloody best, as usual" he complements dabbing their cheeks. "You did wonderful today, darling" he praises. "...There's my Tav" He smiles like he's come home, looking at their now clean face.

Hope you all enjoyed, if you have any prompts/requests, let me know in the notes/in my asks! ♡

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bananasfosterparent · 6 months

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Update on my current runs!

Silkina the Bard Waveservant -

She got the Volo eye (not pictured) and has been helping her friends while looking for a cure. This is my first "good" solo run, so it's a lot of content, more than I'm used to! Definitely going slower than my usual, but still a lot of fun! Also never realized how funny Karlach is lmao. Just getting to the goblin fight so we'll see how it goes! Very excited to get Wyll's party scene!! Silkina is sassy, but kind and really an outlier among other waveservants because of it. Well, she's really good at connecting with others at least. Despite it being odd, since most Waveservants (especially clerics) are quite standoffish and introverted, Silkina focuses on making her outgoing nature work for her, sharing the might and fury of Umberlee with her words (and music).

Also.. after getting the Volo eye and almost everyone disapproving, I noticed Wyll didn't.. but he didn't have a ! either. I had her talk to him anyway and he was like "Welcome to the one eye club! A woman with one eye is very intriguing c:" and I giggled.

Efeniti (Spawn Astarion ending AU run) -

In the exact same place it's been for a few weeks lmao I have not touched this playthrough. I AM SCHTALLING. I know what you're thinking... because I'm an AA fan... but really, I just can't emotionally handle the break down scene after he brutally stabs Cazedor. Or the brutal stabbing. I am really not ready for that. I have my own feelings for why and what it makes me experience, but maybe if I actually go through with it this time, I can talk about it (it's not that bad, I'm just procrastinating).

This version of Efenity is who she would be if she hadn't lost the woman who was like a mother to her. If she had been able to have a somewhat normal life and become a private magic teacher in the upper part of the city. She's much kinder and able to temper herself much better.

Efenity (Canon AA romance run #whatever) -

This is idk like the 5th time I've played as Efenity. I've lost count 🤷🏽‍♀️ Most of these runs, I only got to Act 3 and only 2 I've gotten to the final fight and couldn't win it after trying over and over. This time I plan to finish it!!! I want my epilogue, dang it! I killed Minthara this time, at the party. There was a leftover from EA with a voiced Tav scene. If you killed Minty and the goblins at the party, that night or morning after(?) there's some conversation and Tav says something in the cut scene! ANYWAY... I tried it and it didn't happen 😭😭😭 I either did it wrong (I attacked before Minty had her murder cutscene) OR they patched it out of the game! I could go back and try it again, but I barely won that fight and it took me SO many tries (mostly due to needing to long rest).

But! Regardless! Even though I didn't get that cool voiced Tav scene... I have added Efenity killing Minthara and the goblins at the party to her canon story. Because it just makes sense that she'd do that. Originally, she just uses her to get to Moonrise but I scrapped that. While Efenity just sees the tieflings as collateral damage, she knows Shadowheart was struggling with that whole ordeal which did bother her... she cares for SH and she is her first real friend. And with Minthara insulting her for not wanting to sleep with her, on top of it...

Efenity was like OKAY. Time for you to go, ma'am.

Solenia Omraebra, the Drow Cleric -

I've only had her for about a week and I love her. She's also been through at least 6 different hairstyles 😭 Solenia is my newest Tav, a Drow and cleric of Eilistraee! She's very studious and scholarly. I don't know much about her beyond that yet. Still working on her backstory and whatnot, BUT she is good to a fault. She wants to save everyone, in every way that she possibly can. Even those she probably shouldn't get close enough to, to try to save. Even those she is told are irredeemable. She's romancing Gale! She's just getting through Act 1 stuff and almost to the goblin camp!

#silkina #efenity #solenia #just felt like giving an update lmao #I'll post more about Solenia and Silkina separately once I have a better grip on who they are #baldur's gate 3 #ascended astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #astarion x tav #wyll ravengard #wyll x tav #wyll ravenguard #wyll #bg3

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thelittlepinkwitchblog · 6 months

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THE SEAGULLS OF WATERDEEP - A ONESHOT

First off, hello I am not dead just inactive.

I don't usually post much of my writing but here I am, and I'll be 100% honest, this idea has been bouncing around my brain since i made that initial post I dont know when (idk how to link posts but its there somewhere), about the Seagulls of Aberdeen by Scottish comedy group Weegie Hink Ae That? With respect to the source of my setting (the person whose story has me in a vice grip), this one-shot takes place in sort of the “in-between-scenes” of a story like @galebrainrot2024 ‘s on-going series, a former school rivals to friends to more (?) Kind of story. Come into my mind scape, where Tav went to Blackstaff with Gale as kids, they were rivals, and for whatever reason Tav went on to multiclass as a Sorcerer-Bard in order to make a better living or fulfill a passion or whatever, I didn't really think about that until I'm literally writing this intro thing. I like my Tav being F personally but I wrote this as an genderless Tav so I hope everyone can enjoy ^_^

Setting - the party camps in a relatively safe area for the night, allowing everyone to relax a bit from the Ilithid problem, along with the array of personal quests to be fulfilled. Gale made a hearty stew and everyone decided that they should have a little bit of wine as a treat for their weeks of steady hard work. Karlach was the first companion found by Tav after the crash, and so she requested a song the bard had played before meeting the rest of the party. Takes place after the meeting with Elminster.

***

“Oh, oh, sing that funny one about the seagulls!” Karlach almost vibrated from excitement, the heat of her skin radiating more than the well tended campfire. Tav looked around, at the reactions of their companions. Halsin and Wyll both nodded at them encouragingly, Astarion shrugged nonchalantly. Gale had been quiet for days, as quiet as one could expect from him; ever since Elminster quelled the orb with Mystra's blessing, so that he could, well, never mind. Tav observed him as he ran his fingers over the hem of his purple linen chemise, a silent glimpse into the torrent of his mind. “You'll love this one wizard, it's about your home turf.” Having caught on to her friend's gaze, the teifling deliberately brought the wizard from his thoughts and into the circle of conversation.

“Honestly, I would love to hear it.” He did his best to smile, to seem like his usual self, but Tav could see a forlornness deal within his eyes, having taken root in his heart since the orb was silenced.

“Yes, Tav. Do indulge us.” Shadowheart added, taking another sip of wine.

Tav waved their hand, silently summoning a lute with their Bardic Arcana, an act of casual magic that made Gale's heart skip, though for a moment he thought it was the now slumbering orb. Checking the tune with a single strum across the cords, Tav's lips curled into a cat's grin, obviously pleased to have been asked to provide entertainment during their rest. “Alrighty then, if you know the words, sing along.” Playing a simple intro, Tav began to sing, their accent, what dear readers would recognize as Scottish, clearly audible. “Oh the seagulls o'er in Waterdeep, have you seen the fucking size of the seagulls in Waterdeep?” Expecting a ballad that was aforementioned funny, Gale surprised himself when he burst out laughing with everyone else after the first crass line.

“Oh the seagulls o'er in Waterdeep, I watched one fight a granny at the Harbour in Waterdeep.”

Karlach joined into a rough harmony, Tav altering their pitch to accommodate the joyful teifling. “I thought I must be Water-dreamin’ up I wasnae, the big ol' bastard's devil eyes staring right through me. I thought I must be Water-dreamin’ but I wasnae, the big ol’ bastard chased me down and tried to kill me.” Shadowheart, Wyll, and Halsin all joined in with the chorus, Astarion enjoyed the spectacle too much to join, Lae'zel had left to train, and Gale was too busy marveling at how easily Tav smoothed over any friction that may have arisen during the day; any disagreement or tension between comrades was quickly forgiven or forgotten the moment they sat by the fire with their lute and vocal chords. As the bridge came and Tav's voice easily shifted higher, their eyes met for a single moment before the bard turned to Karlach, saying something quickly between verses. “Oh the seagulls o'er in Waterdeep they scream. Karlach, make the seagulls noise! Oh the seagulls o'er in Waterdeep they scream,”

“Wawa wawawa wawawa wawawawa!” With her whole chest, Karlach did her best seagull impression, flapping her hands to imitate wings.

“Oh the seagulls o'er in Waterdeep they scream,”

“Wawa wawawa wawawa wawawawa!” Shadowheart had joined Karlach's impression, her cheeks red from the wine most of them had consumed with the dinner Gale had prepared.

“Oh the seagulls o'er in Waterdeep,” Slowing the tempo, none knew the final line the Bard would deliver, the final blow to a song that almost had tears of laughter flow. “I watched one bust a nut at the Harbour in Waterdeep.” Shaking his head as Tav flourished on the lute in finality, he struggled for breath as his fingers clasped the bridge of his nose.

A moment of applause rang through the clearing as Tav said their thanks and seemed to humbly accept whatever praise or criticism came their way. Though no complement could surpass Gale’s; Tav's heart swelled almost painfully at his breathy laughs as he muttered to himself with a half smile, almost hiding his face in his hand to suppress himself. “Oh sweet Gods above, I needed that.”

***

please be kind to me with criticisms, be constructive but I'm sensitive k thanks

Okay, I love you, Gods bless ♡ bye ♡

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate gale #gale dekarios au #wizard of waterdeep #baldurs gate 3 #weegie tink ae that?#seagulls of aberdeen #gale x bard tav #gale x sorcerer tav #gale x you #gale x tav #i am not dead #hello i am not dead

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tealfling · 9 months

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A/N: It’s the first day of winter break and I’m sick (hope it’s not that flu that’s going around).

Let’s do that sick character trope everyone likes. Let’s go with Amaranth bc she’s still my favorite girl and bc she’s a cleric. Kinda proof read.

Probably going to strain canon a little bit, maybe bring in some more DnD concepts. Idk.

Astarion x Amaranth (named f!Tav), references to previous sexual encounters, but not smut 18+

S: Amaranth gets a little spell sick from a flower, Astarion fusses over her, and keeps her company until she feels better.

Unwell

It got worse so fast. Amaranth thought to herself. It hurt to think. There's an invisible pressure in her skull. Like her head was held in an ogre's grip and he means to crush her. Amaranth was lugged onto Wyll's back. It was so hard to focus. She couldn't make out their words. Her throat hurt. It was so dry. It pricked. Every attempt to speak failed. Her chest was heavy and her breathing labored. I just want to lie down.

The sun hung low preparing to set as Wyll's call cut through camp. Shadowheart. Not a good sign if the party enters camp calling for a cleric. Wonder who's hurt. Astarion thought amused. But then he remembered the other group cleric should be with him.

"A little help here!" Karlach's voice calls. Not a good sign at all.

Gale and Shadowheart were the first to meet the party. Astarion was in his tent finishing washing up after his supper. He flung the bloody rag in the wash basin and pulled on a fresh shirt.

"What in the hells happened to her?!" Gale exclaimed upon seeing Amaranth. The tiefling's normal deep amethyst color was so paled she was almost lilac. She was limply laid over Wyll, her tail nearly dragging the ground. Dark circles hung from her eyes.

"I'm not sure. She seemed fine, then suddenly she had trouble talking, and then this." Wyll shrugged.

Shadowheart lifted the back of her hand to the tiefling's cheek.

Amaranth whimpered in relief. "C-cold." Her word broke in her dry, raspy throat while she leaned into the half-elf 's delicate hand.

"Lady of Sorrows guide us. She's burning up. Almost as much as Karlach," Shadowheart stated, placing her other hand on Amaranth's face. Radiant light filled the raven haired woman's eyes and her hand glowed warm with healing magic. But the purple tiefling didn't respond. "It didn't take," whispered Shadowheart.

When Astarion had exited his tent, he had every intention of teasing whichever new found friend was foolish enough to get injured on what should have been a rather easy mission. Wyll, Karlach, and Lae'zel were all a little bloody. He could smell their dry crusted blood from his tent. What he didn't understand was why Wyll had a pale purple tiefling draped on his back. The pit of Astarion's stomach twisted. He couldn't smell a fresh wound from her, but she wasn't moving. Why was she so still?

"What's going on?! What's happened!? What's wrong with her!?!" He demanded storming toward the group.

In her feverish daze, Amaranth locked onto his voice, even if he was only a white blurry glow.

"Not to sound- ungentlemanly- but could someone else take her? She's a bit heavy," Wyll whispered.

Amaranth mustered all her strength to push off of the warlock's back, attempting to mutter apologies for her weight as she tried to slide off him. Her balance was completely off when she freed herself and she swayed wildly.

"Pay no mind to him, he can hardly lift his own blade," Astarion hissed at Wyll as he deftly grabbed Amaranth by the arm and pulled her into him. Gods. Her skin was so hot it surprised him that his own flesh didn't sizzle. "What's going on with her?!" He barked again, petting the back of her hair and caressing a hand on the back of her neck while she leaned into him. He cupped her feverish cheeks in his hands looking her over. She looked positively ill. He returned his hands to her neck and forehead in some pathetic attempt to cool her down.

Amaranth hummed in relief. Astarion's body was always perfectly cold. When the hand on her neck slid up to her forehead it felt the pressure in her skull ease. She lifted her face to him. There was a weak smile on her lips and her gaze seemed hazy, unfocused. She gripped Astarion shirt with one hand for balance as she used the other to rummage in the dagger pouch on her hip. Astarion was supporting all of her weight when she pulled out a blue dagger. She flinched. It was quick, almost missable. "I made this for you." Her voice was hoarse and broken, not its usual canter. He lightly pried it from her fingers.

"Oh," he paused, unsure of what to say. He really didn't need another dagger and currently was more interested in whatever ailed her. "Thank you, Darling."

"May I see that?" Gale asked with an outstretched hand.

The vampire eyed the wizard narrowly, "She just handed me this gift and you already want to eat it? I think not. It's mine."

"For Mystra's sake. I'm not some carnival sword swallower, I don't want to consume your new dagger. I just want to inspect it. Something doesn't seem right." Gale said exasperated.

"Ugh, fine." Astarion dexterously flipped the blade in hand offering the handle to Gale.

"Thank you," Gale said, grabbing the dagger in hand. He immediately winced in pain with an ah and let it fall to the ground.

Astarion protectively pulled Amaranth into him further, turning her away from the dagger. It hadn't been painful when he held it.

Gale looked at Wyll, "Where did you say you went today?" The wizard rubbed his aching fingers.

Wyll explained the teleporting to and from the Underdark, and how their leader had figured out how to use the forge at the Blighted Village.

"That certainly explains things," said Gale stepping back from the dagger further. He continued, "Sussur Trees are known for their anti-magic fields. The blooms will leech magic from mages and silence their ability to cast. Did you not feel its effects, Wyll?"

"I never went near the tree. There were Hooked Horrors surrounding the tree that we fought off while she collected the bark."

Gale sighed, "Of course she did. Alone. Short term exposure to the tree or any part of it like blooms or bark are easily recovered from, just a temporary gap in casting. But it sounds like our leader carried the bark of tree then the dagger made of it's essence for sometime, essentially magically exsanguinating herself. So worry not Astarion, I'll have nothing more to do with that new dagger of yours. I hope its service in your capable hands proves worth the effect it took to obtain it though. As for Amaranth, no amount of healing magic will help her just now. Luckily for her, this ailment is akin to a flu or pneumonia. Rest and fluids are the key! She should be right as rain in a day or two. Best get her to bed."

The crew divvied up. Gale put himself on soup duty. Shadowheart took Amaranth to her tent to help her out her armor and wash her up. Astarion only relinquished the tiefling bc he felt like she'd be more comfortable with Shadowheart undressing her. Ripping off her clothes in lust was one thing, this was...a different kind of intimate. He wanted to do it, but he wasn't sure he was ready to unpack all the implications that would come from the act. Or if Amaranth would want him to do so.

Astarion instead got everything Shadowheart needed to prepare Amaranth for bed, then he gathered his new dagger from the ground. It was weighted well enough, with an interesting tree pattern, and a faint blue glow. Dangerous to magic casters, huh? She'd made this for him and made herself ill in the process. Why was she so damn stupid? That's why using her as a target was so easy. There's no way she had it that bad for him, surely. Astarion knew he was good, but not 'make one senseless and stupid' good. No, this was all her own foolish habit of people pleasing. Something she didn't have to go through such lengths for, certainly not for the likes of him. He decided to hide the damned thing in his tent for now, he couldn't look at it while she was so sickly.

He returned to Amarnath's tent, pacing outside until Shadowheart called him to get the water bowl to fetch fresh water. When he entered, Shadowheart had the other woman cleaned and wrapped in blankets on the bed roll. Amaranth for her part, was weakly trying to kick off her covers. He wasn't sure if her brow glistened from being washed or sweating, those extra quilts surely weren't helping.

Astarion tsked. "You know she hates that! That's far too many blankets," he fussed kneeling to adjust the bedding. "Don't wrap her so tightly. You need to leave room for air to circulate."

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. "Well, if you can do better, why don't you?"

"I can and I will. Your service is no longer needed," he snapped.

"Fine." Shadowheart flipped her ponytail and left the tent.

Amaranth shakily grasped Astarion's hand when it was within reach. "My Star?" She croaked.

He paused. Something squeezed in his chest before he responded as cheerfully as he could muster, "Yes, my pet? How can I help?" He brought his other hand to her cheek. She leaned into his cool palm, but her glassy eyes stayed in him. Each breath a struggle. Her skin was nearly uncomfortably warm. This was terrible. How could those idiots let this happen? They should have been paying more attention. He should have gone. If only he could make her better. Seeing her like this was.... distressing. Knowing no healing they had at their disposal would help was--awful.

Through unsteady breaths Amaranth said, "Can you h-hold me? I know you don't like to be t-touched and I-I hate to ask, but I just really want to snuggle with y-you." Her eyes watered a little and her voice cracked as she pleaded. "Your cold feels n-nice," she added, as if there needed to be some reasoning excuse for him.

Gods. That was heart wrenching. He was beginning to think he'd made a grave mistake. This woman would be the death of him. He'd chosen the wrong target. As true as her statement might be, she was also wrong. He craved her innocent soft touches. Time and again her tender caresses had shown him that she could melt him, break him down, and re-forge him into something new. He liked her touch, it's the fact that he wanted it so badly considering what he was doing to her that repulsed him. But she never touched him like anyone had before, in fact this was the first time she'd ever asked him for anything. Even then, the look in her eyes told him she'd already resigned herself to be denied. As he should, it would be the right thing to do. But Astarion wasn't known for being selfless, he liked when she allowed him to be selfish with her.

"Oh, my poor little sweet, how could I say no to you in this condition?" He purred. There was a flicker of joy in Amaranth's eyes as she smiled weakly, a glimpse of her normal brightness. That in itself had been worth it to Astarion. She feebly tried to gather and rearrange pillows, but Astarion was quick to move in and overtake the task. Her pillow collection had grown increasingly since his nighttime visits had become more frequent and prolonged. He could scoff at how she always accommodated other people (even him) over herself, it made him fluff a pillow a little too aggressively and Amaranth had noticed.

"Astar-?" She started worryingly.

"Shhh, my dear, you want to snuggle? Come closer," his said velvetly, snaking one arm under her neck while using the other to pull her close. He allowed her to adjust for a moment, somehow she found a way to bury a horn beside his neck so she could rest her cheek on his throat. Once that was settled she quickly tangled her other limbs amongst his, locking her legs over and under his, curling her tail around his calf. Karlach had said tieflings didn't like their tails messed with because they could be easily broken and they only touched their tails to their most trusted friends- or lovers. Astarion felt like his heart was in his throat. Amaranth trusted him, actually trusted him. He hoped her blind faith didn't come back to haunt them. She grabbed his hands, smacking one to her forehead with a delightful sigh. The other she laced her own behind his and placed his palm through her opened shirt on her chest, just below her throat. He could feel her heart, thumping, hard at work trying to gather the energy to heal. Astarion gently smiled, pressed his hand to her chest, and squeezed her fingers as if encouraging it to heal quicker.

He rested his chin on her head, taking in her minty scent, feeling her heart, listening to her breathing. Counting the moments until she finally settled into some form of sleep. Astarion felt so warm. And not just physically. This was a first. No one had ever asked this of him before. She had wanted this to comfort her, but it was oddly comforting to him as well. He unexpectedly, released a small kiss on her forehead and risked waking her by embracing her in closer. If only this moment could last forever.

Shadowheart threw open the tent flap. She halted, absorbing the scene before her to insure she was seeing correctly before commenting, "My, don't you look comfortable."

"Well, when our fearless leader requests a cooling touch, who am to deny her? It is an honor and a privilege to play 'personal icepack' for our incapacitated leader. At least someone gets to benefit from my undead chill," he said pompously, lounging back further. "And for my part, I get to relax on a bed of pillows- exempt from all camp chores, mind you- while lying under the most beautiful woman in Faerûn? Please. Of course I'm comfortable. I can't think of a place I'd rather be," Astarion boasted. "So don't think if asking to trade places."

Shadowheart rolled her eyes, "Well, then, here's fresh water, towel, and Gale says the soup is almost ready," she paused looking over the pale tiefling. "But I think we should just leave her be. She can eat after she rests."

"Of course she can! I'm not disturbing her for Gale to stroke his culinary ego." Astarion bit, quietly stroking at the back of the sleeping tiefling's sliver head. There was a slanted look from Shadowheart instead of a reply. Her eyes trailed down from Astarion stroking Amaranth's hair to the parts of their limbs exposed from the sheets where a purple tail tied around his ankle. "What?! What are you looking at?"

"Oh, nothing," Shadowheart hummed mischievously. "But you might want to be careful, Astarion, or people might get the impression you have a beating heart." She teased over her shoulder, exiting the tent. Gone before Astarion could find a free pillow to chuck at her.

Amaranth squirmed on Astarion's chest. "Hush, my sweet, go back to sleep." He shushed, gathering her close.

"You think I'm beautiful," she meekly questioned. He could feel her lip move over his throat, her warm breath ghosting over chest.

Shit. She was awake? It'd be easy enough to play off. "Of course, Darling. I'm a man of exquisite taste. Would I settle for anything less? You're pure perfection."

"You're the only person besides my father that's called me beautiful."

How depressing was that. What was he supposed to say? Every day he noticed something else about her to admire. He didn't know which god had sent her down, but they had definitely put in the work. "Then I suppose it's to my benefit that other people are blind. Your beauty is mine to relish in and I don't plan on sharing." Astarion huffed. He didn't really know what to say. He really did find her utterly, devastatingly gorgeous, but how was he supposed to explain it all. Doing so would only complicate things anyway. Either way, how could he just picking things about her that were wonderful? She was a better mirror than him. Oh. He lifted his finger to the tip of his ear, sure enough there was a wayward curl wrapped around it. This is her favorite one. He thought, twisting the curl around his finger. A fluttery feeling danced in his stomach. Shit. Her and her poetry.

"Do you like the dagger?" Thankfully her hoarse voice ripped him from the rabbit hole he was crawling into and broke him back.

"You mean the thing that drained you of your magic more grievously than I've ever drained you of your blood? Yes, let's talk about that," he sneered.

Amaranth pushed off his chest to face him. "You don't like it?" She sniffled.

"Oh no you don't! You put that pouty lip away right now, sweetheart." Astarion grabbed her shoulders to help keep her up right. He made an exasperated noise with his tongue when he saw her eyes water, "I never said I didn't like it. It looks like a very nice dagger and I'm sure I'll use it to violently end the lives of many wizards- while imagining they're Gale, of course, but Darling. Look at you." He grabbed her face. "Look at the state you put yourself in to get a dagger of all things. You're practically a shadow of your former glory. Luckily, Gale says you'll regain your magic, but who knows how long you'll be indisposed. It was an absolutely inane thing to do to mess with something you're unfamiliar with alone. Gods, it's hard enough with you triggering traps all the time, now I have to worry about you touching plants?" He grazed a hand over her head, her fever was coming down. Astarion grabbed Amaranth's water flask and held it to her lips.

"You worry about me triggering traps?" she asked before taking a sip. The first one went down smoothly so she braved a larger gulp.

That made her cough and Astarion pulled the flash away. "Darling, if you blow up in a trap, I will also, blow up in a trap, and I'd rather not. Honestly." He thumbed the remaining water from her lips and swept the silver hair from her face. "No, the lesson here, my love, is that I need you to be more selfish. You care too much about other people, and I need you to worry about yourself more."

"But I wanted you to have a new dagger. One isn't even enchanted and the other we found in a roast. When I saw the instructions for the forge contained a dagger, I just...thought of you," Amaranth fidgeted with her hair.

"And now I'm one dagger deadlier and you're missing your healing abilities that I've come to rely on so dearly when all the stabbing goes wrong. If you want to think of me, think like this: How can I keep my beautiful vampire companion alive?"

"But I'd thought it's pretty."

"It is pretty, but I don't see what that has anything to with this. Honestly, you don't normally worry about such things, that flower must have really done a number on you," Astarion said.

"I just wanted you to have it because I know you like pretty things," she replied softy.

"Yes, well, I could just grab you the next time I want a pretty thing to fi-," Astarion cut off his sentence with a cough.

Amaranth's eyes widened, wondering why Astarion cut off his sentence. His pinking ears confirming it would have been racy.

"Ahem," Astarion collected himself, "It seems like you're feeling a little better. If you're well enough to argue, you're well enough to eat." Astarion elegantly popped to his feet. "I'll fetch you dinner. Hope you're prepared for Gale's soup."

"I guess. You'll come back right?" Amaranth seemed worried.

Honestly, she was acting more clingy that normal. Astarion smiled, "Of course, Darling." It was a nice stroke to his ego. He tried not to dwell the other brain stroke he almost had.

Astarion went to grab her supper, but ended up arguing with Gale over his choice of tea. Amarnath doesn't care for tea so why bother preparing something if it's not the kind she likes?

Amaranth was sitting up when he entered her tent. He fussed as he tried to make sure she ate while the others kept popping in to check on her. Eventually, she tired, re-tangling herself around him as she drifted off to sleep. Astarion ran his fingers through her hair until he entered mediation.

In the morning, Amaranth popped up cheerfully planting an exaggerated kiss on Astarion's cheek.

"What was that for?" His groan obviously fake, as he stirred.

Amaranth planted another one closer to his ear, "Thank you."

"For what?" Astarion said propping himself on an elbow. Amaranth admired his disheveled look.

"For staying with me, obviously," she rolled her eyes. She lifted her hand. He brow pulled as she concentrated on something and a golden spark sputtered from her fingers, but nothing more happened. "Tank's not full yet I guess, but I feel it, it's there." She said softly. When she went to stand Astarion grabbed her arm.

"Where in the Nine Hells do you think you're going?" He snapped.

"Um, out?" Amaranth tilted her head and scrunched her face.

"Why?"

"Um, because we have a list of shit to do to free us of these parasites?" Amaranth tried to stand again.

Astarion pulled her back into bed, "You're not going anywhere until you can cast something. I don't often agree with listening to Gale, but here I must concur that you need bed rest until you're up to your normal capabilities. If that means another day in bed then so be it."

Amaranth pouted, then smiled, "Will you stay with me?"

"Why, so I can wait on you hand and foot again? Like some nursemaid?" Astarion said pointedly.

"Didn't you say you liked lying on my bed of pillows? Free from the burden of camp chores?" Amaranth wormed her way around Astarion where she could whisper in his ear, "Under the most mildly attractive women in Faerûn?"

Astarion flipped Amaranth to the side so he could face her. "Don't you dare misquote me. You know I think you're beautiful, almost as beautiful as myself and I won't settle for less," he preened. "But... That is a thought. I can think of several activities to do under a beautiful woman that don't require magic, and several more over them." His eyes darkened and his tone lowered as he pulled her body close, nuzzling into her neck.

Amaranth leaned back palming his chest, weakly pretending to keep him at bay. "Sorry, Darling, my nursemaid says I'm not cleared for such strenuous activities." She teased dodging neck kisses.

He rested his head on her shoulder with a sigh. She was right. Her body needed rest to recover. He would feel worse afterwards if she was weakened again. "Fine. You're right." He said finally into her collar bone.

Tsk. "Awe. You gave up so easily. It's fine though, we can just cuddle." Amaranth said petting his white curls. "After breakfast though, I'm really hungry."

Astarion laughed, "Of course, my dear. You need to regain your energy. Maybe we can revisit your restrictions with your nursemaid later when you're more- energized." He pecked her lips before leaving to get her breakfast.

#bg3 tav #astarion romance #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #astarion x mc #tav #tiefling tav #bg3 fanfic #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #tav fanfic #tiefling tav fanfic #bg3 fanfiction

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carryoncastiel · 1 year

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Thinking thoughts about Wyll and his story. Two things I've gathered 1. His character has been completely rewritten in developement. 2. General consesus is that something is missing from his story.

Now, I haven't played early access and I don't feel like going through old content so this is just the conclusion I came to playing the game as is plus little mentions of things I saw in tumblr posts.

So Wyll is 17 when Mizora comes to him and makes him sell his soul to defeat Tiamat's cultists that want to destroy Baldur's Gate. In this fight he gets pretty badly injured on his face, losing his right eye and sustaining noticeable scars.

We can assume he went back to his father right after the fight and Ulder seeing his 17 year old son, his only child, missing an eye and probably still bleeding, does not listen to his explanation at all (if Wyll even gets to say anything) (edit: I forgot: Wyll actually tells you that he couldn't tell his father about his pact and he tried to show him the battlefield but there was nothing left to show. Still...what did he think was the reason Wyll made the pact then?) and just banishes him from the city for daring to make a pact with a devil.

After that the story gets a bit murky. Wyll tells you how he saved a boy from goblins and that gave him the calling to be the blade of the people. Throughout the game he will casually mention heroic fights he had and you and the other characters take it at face value because there's nothing telling you you shouldn't believe him - but it also doesn't really lead anywhere storywise. He just is the Blade of Frontiers and he does heroic deeds.

What kept bothering me in my first playthrough is that Wyll will casually flirt with Lae'zel and Shadowheart at the beginning of your journey. And it feels very random. The natural conclusion would've been (for me at least) for him to very obviously flirt with the player character too but he doesn't really do that. You have to ask about the dancing and you have to convince him to get one kiss. Even if he's drawn back for other reasons it still doesn't add up.

And of course once you start romancing him you find out he gets all giddy and blushy after that one short kiss at the party and he's a pure romantic at heart who wants to do this the proper way like the bards sing about in old ballads and he won't do anything beyond kissing until he literally proposes and you say yes. Also if you don't romance him and Lae'zel mentions being interested in him at the party, then next day she will lament that they spend the night together but he literally just wanted to talk (did I mention I love Wyll a lot).

The other thing is what Mizora says when you rescue her from the mindflayer colony. She tells you about asking Wyll how they met and the way she says it made me assume it would make Wyll look really bad. But then you hear the story about him saving Baldur's Gate from cultists and there's nothing bad that Wyll did here (besides selling his soul which duh).

Idk much about early access Wyll as I've said but I think he was supposed to be a huge liar. So I assume that actually Wyll was supposed to have made the pact out of seflish reasons and/or making the pact had major repercussions for other people. If for example innocent people died as a consequence it would also seem a tiny bit more reasonable for Ulder to not want to listen to Wyll's reasoning (still a shitty father move though). Now, he would've still been a 17 year old, a child essentially, getting tricked by a devil into selling his soul without realising the full impact it would have. But he would also feel incredibly guilty about it and then lie about it being his proudest moment that he never regretted to mask that fact.

Then he would go on to create The Blade of Frontiers, this huge legend that does every heroic deed you can think of. The flirting with every pretty woman he meets then also would make more sense in a "that's just what heroic male characters in stories do" way.

He would still be a good and heroic person at heart but some of it would be an exaggerated persona he created out of the guilt and shame of what happened when he made the pact and also the feeling of abandonment he got from his father banishing him.

I like Wyll as he's written now but I'd be lying if I didn't say he's missing some depth and giving him more flaws than just "he made a deal with a devil (out of completely selfless reasons no less)" would make him a more interesting character.

#wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate wyll #bg3 #my thoughts

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lagncx · 11 days

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Stink bomb kisses pt2

Tw: body horror: zombie reader: Mention of Cazador: Astarion being captured: Astarion being a bit ooc: corny. Idk…

Wc: 3k

Enjoy.

Song quotes for this “fuck the rest of them, fuck em all, fuck em all but us.” Watermelon- Jane and John Q.

——-

Zombie reader

It was food time. Karlach sat on the ground next to the cooking pot Gale was tending to “Star coming?” She asked laying back with an omphf and a crack in her back Gale sighed “Don’t know…he’s been isolated from us since Tav and him separated.” Gale shrugged. Tav had separated with Astarion; their relationship was rocky. Tav didn’t really seem to show much interest in his needs disregarding his new freedom of choice.

The last straw was when Tav told Astarion “It’s not that big of a deal, love just drink her blood. You do it all the time” Astarion had dropped his mouth open, his eyes wide and glossy looking at Tav…the hurt, the pain was on his face and Tav just stared at him. Asshole.

Gale sighed, setting down a bowl in front of everyone “maybe I should bring him a cup of wine.” Shadowheart said, her eyes scanning the camp to see where he might be.

But where is he?

Alert rose in everyone as Shadowheart shared her thoughts through the tadpole. Astarion was missing. Karlach looked at her “hells? What do you mean he’s missing!” she said out loud. Shadowheart scratched her head “He’s been a recluse recently but never completely off grid!” Shadowheart reasoned.

Wyll stood up “Everyone search everywhere! I don’t care how long it takes to look in every nook and cranny till you find him! If you can’t find him, bring a piece of his damn hair. We already knew Astarion was at risk.” Wyll said hurrying off into the direction of the woods calling for Astarion. Everyone dropped their food and did the same, Gale sighed sadly at his bowl before taking one last bite and putting it down and joining the search party.

When he wasn’t found they came to the conclusion that He was kidnapped by one of the gur or Cazadors lackeys.

So it was time to plan “With his hands on Astarion we have limited time we have to move now!” Shadowheart pointed out. “Yea but how the hell do we find him?!” Karlach yelled she was burning up anger seethed through her. Gale hummed “Maybe…no.” Karlach growled “spit it out!” Gale sighed “It’s a small hope but scratch won’t be able to track him. There is… stinks.” He said, clearing his throat. Everyone looked at him “stinks?” Karlach said “it’s been weeks since they kinda exploded. Can we even get them back, and what makes you so sure they can find him?” Shadowheart said

Gale chuckled “stink is one of a kind…we can bring them back and now that I know more than I did before I think I can bring them back permanently and I know for sure they could find Astarion if he was an ant in a colony.” Gale hummed “Their name is all I need and a grave.” Gale smiled feeling smug.

——

You were stuck in your own repeating hell. It played the same Astarion hugging you and turning you back into the pile of nothingness you once were, just a zombie. “No importance to him” he would spit, “something to use.” He would laugh as you rotted down to the bone, your eyes oozing pus and tears. Over and over again. You sniffled as your body regenerated “no more please. Why am I here? What did I do to deserve this purgatory?!” You yelled defeated. You sighed it was the same you would call out to yourself and then Astarion would call out to you. You would be torn on where to go whether to choose yourself or Astarion and you always ran to him.

It’s pathetic really…you didn’t even know who he was before he brought you back as some zombie soldier yet you still clung to him in this fantasy turned nightmare. So you ran his way things could be different…no they couldn’t it was a loop. You ran towards him, seeing him in the distance before you fell through the ground, the combined body fluids and goop sucking you down into the soil “Astarion!!” You screamed before being put on the ground. The air was fresher and the smell wasn’t so damp. You felt intact. “<💙> ?” You gasped you stayed still waiting for them to say it again “…<💙>” you pushed yourself off the ground with a grunt, you pushed your tongue against the familiar stitch that Astarion put to keep that tear in your jaw in check. You looked at the wizard “Gale!” You gasped he smiled “look at you! I did a good job.” He sighed. You looked down at your clothes…your skin. Still slightly green but you looked..less decomposed your flesh still different colors in certain places but it doesn’t fucking matter.

You hugged him tightly “thank you thank you thank you for getting me out of that hell!!” You sighed. You opened your eyes seeing the group surrounding you “guys!” You smiled looking at everyone “hi <💙>” tav said. You upturned your nose as if you weren’t just smelling your own top lip. Tav rolled their eyes.

Before things could get off track wyll came up to you “listen <💙> we need your help, that’s why we brought you back and you're gonna be here permanently.” You turned to him “So who odo I thank?” You smiled. Gale raised his hand “yes yes…” wyll sighed “Look we’re cutting on low time. We have an issue and it’s about Astarion.” Almost like time went slow your eyes twitched faster than anything “He’s not here.” You whispered Gale waved at you with his hand looking at shadowheart “what I say. She can track her way to him…like a weird…soul bind thing.”

You furrowed your brows “He’s nowhere near here…What happened?! Where is he?!” You talked so fast your body of very little health still hasn’t caught up with gales spell making you bite off a chunk of your tongue falling on the ground. Honestly you don’t even notice. Halsin mouths drops and he just lets out a quiet sob. You look down at your tongue twitching around before grabbing it and shoving it in your pocket.

Everyone clears their throat. Wyll sighs “I’ll fix it up for you while we talk about what happened.”

You sat at the campsite while they all sat around you. You gulped mucus awkwardly “you guys…want me to…find him?” You said struggling a bit. Halsin nodded “yes, and soon. We’ll be right behind you. But we need you to find him.” You bit your lip piercing the soft yellow green flesh “I don’t know if I could…I’m not. His.” You frowned “soul tie…if he doesn’t want me around anymore it’ll just fizzle out. I knew he wasn’t here because I didn’t smell him.” You have had a great sense of smell since becoming undead. You've loved feasting and the smells were so distinct. But now you're here permanently. Still a zombie but less pus bubble waiting to explode.

“He still wants you around…cried for days when you took yourself out.” Wyll said “never seen him cry before.” Gale hummed. You looked down at your hands thinking of all the times Astarion would have you hold any books he found on his travels.

Or him humming a soft tune while he pushed your fingers back and forth cracking your knuckles to get that rigor out of you.

He was never afraid to touch you or disgusted by you. You loved him for that…love…that was all you needed.

You immediately scurried towards the fire on your knees and closed your eyes. Gale looked at you “Oh stink…you're doing it now.” He said excitedly everyone was confused so Halsin explained “a soul tie is fragile like a string to an instrument when you pluck it it rings and vibrates she's the string and she vibrates over the space and it can ping Astarions soul. It’s beautiful.” He sighed dramatically

You took a deep breath “Show him to me…please” you whispered to the gods above.

…just one more time…help me. Help him.

Suddenly like a drop of fresh water you felt it wash over you like a droplet landing on the soft silk of a spider's web you felt a chill run down your spine. You opened your eyes and turned towards the hill that overlooked the grand city.

“I can feel him. His soul is still tied to mine.” You got up almost lunging yourself down the hill before feeling hands holding you back “woah there!” Halsin hushed you. You scoffed “there’s no time to wait!!” You growled pulling against them, their fingers digging into your skin easily like putty.

Wyll pushed you on your ass. “I hear you. But listen.” You growled fussing under your breath “shut up and listen” Karlach whispered as kindly as she could to you. You closed your mouth and it twitched slightly.

Wyll sighed “When we get there our goal is to rescue Astarion…but when Astarion gets free he will want to take on Cazador.” You looked around the group and shrugged “Fine! That’s fine! We can beat him!” Wyll shook his head “Astarion will be deathly ill since he’d be so starved and beaten he won’t be able to fight like he can on a full stomach. And we have no right to take that revenge from him” you laughed “I’ll just give him my blood.” You said and everyone just sighed La’zel grabbed a dagger and sliced your face, hells you couldn’t even feel that.

“Foolishness! You do not bleed! You can’t provide that for him!” She reasoned with you.

Provide? I can’t…provide.

You pushed your tongue against the inside of your cheek, the skin peeling back and breaking from the force easily. Your tongue felt the air of the outside while it wiggled around…you were nothing more than some dead pound of flesh…

That’s why we can’t be in love…I’m disgusting.

You sniffed and pulled away “Then we’ll bring him back here…kicking and screaming if we have to.” You stood up silently. Everyone seemed pleased and Gale, Wyll, And Karlach joined you. “Sniff him out for us soldier! We’re right behind you.” Karlach said.

———

Astarion jolted awake the small dozing off between this torture of not being able to let his arms rest was starting to grow annoying. Astarion wasn’t sure what to do, if he should kick and try and get out or if someone would come for him. Why should they? Not like they could find him anyway. He grumbled trying to pull himself up but he was weak…tired. In times like these…he could really use you. He hated the way it felt when he was searching for you, calling you chewing on his lip when he started to consider if Gale had put an end to you and dumped your stink somewhere else, but he went to the same spot you both sat and looked at the stars where you promised to keep him safe more than his…”partner” had done. You cared and never saw him as selfish. He missed you…

Almost as on cue he felt something so familiar tug on his cold still heart…his soul had felt a vibration ring out. Yours…you were still bound to him which means you’re…here. Alive!? Not alive but on this plane!

He laughed to himself, tears falling off his cheeks…you were up and searching for him…course you were.

——-

You busted into the manor ignoring the shock gasps and yells from the servants. Karlachs heat melted their damn mouths…not actually but her aura was hot enough. You made your way to the room with the big door but you pulled away and looked around you like a fly was buzzing you saying “Fuckkk youuu”. You mumbled to yourself, Gale turned to you “what? What is it?” You backed up through the hall and your head turned to the wall and you immediately fell against it. “star….he’s in there.” You whispered. Before pushing down on the wall opening it and there he was bloody and beaten like a wilting rose you felt your legs crumple but you had to be strong you whimpered as you nearly ripped the rotting metal from his wrist. He was on his feet this whole time. You had your hands ready to catch him if he fell but he seemed to be alright with standing.

“Star?” You whispered your voice filled with the sound of mucus in your throat. He stepped towards you, his voice small and shaky. “…stink…you came.” Then he fell into your arms. You held him close, his body limp against you. You panicked and it was evident in the way your started to pick at your skin on your arms. Gale came up to you and whispered “it’s okay…just pick him up and we’ll head back to the camp. Quick as a fly.” He smiled reassuring you.

You smiled feeling Astarion cling tighter to you as you carried him in the safety of the familiar alleyways of the city. You decided to split from the rest since it would draw less attention. But before you took another step you sat Astarion down using one arm to help him stand “Star…hey, wake up.” You pulled out a spare shirt from your very very old pack. And put it on him “Raise your arms.” You whispered, pulling it over him. You weren’t sure if his…scar made him feel self conscious or if he didn’t like peering eyes. You weren't sure how to comfort him or talk to him so you chose to stay silent.

You made the shirt even and turned around hoisting him up on your back. Bless the gods for your zombie strength. Astarion wasn’t some small guy. You sighed softly and continued your way to the outskirts of Baldur's gate. You looked down

I cant provide hes probably starving.

You were lost in those thoughts before getting pulled away at the feeling of lips against your neck “I can walk on my own darling…please don’t pamper me.” He whispered. You shook your head “I’m not I’m not…it’s just you collapsed

immediately.” You said but let him down without any fuss. He wobbled slightly but held onto you. “So…where are we…” you shrugged “a trail back to camp.” He nodded and started walking. It was a comfortable silence to him but you looked troubled. He didn’t even need to ask

“I’m sorry.” You said that feeling rising the first time you exploded when you got sad, leaving this realm. You stopped walking feeling your skin rot almost like it was melting the way your skin dropped off your muscle and muscle to bone.

“I’m sorry I even left, and you got captured. I’m sorry you're starving and I can’t feed you…cause I’m not alive. I’m useless. And…that’s why you can’t love me. Because I’m not good enough. I didn’t think when you pulled me back to this ground to this realm that I’d…fall for you.” You felt yourself sinking like the ground was pulling you in. You remember this feeling…when you pulled yourself back to the realm of the dead. You accepted the comforting pull back into the cold void of your own thoughts remembering being curled up stuck in a loop of running to Astarion only for him to never be yours. He’d never be yours.

Suddenly you felt everything still..your thoughts, body, the world…your soul.

Almost like your soul was being washed over with cold water you felt the familiar weight of the world on you…the world…your world, Astarion. His arms held you tightly so tight you thought you’d pop like a stink bomb. You laid your head on his shoulder. It was like this for who’s counting…4 minutes

“I don't need you to make decisions for me.” He said softly, pulling away you saw his eyes a brighter red than ever before…side effects of hunger you guessed. “I don’t need you to pity me or feed me like I’m a newborn.” He frowned, making you look down “I’m sorry” you whispered. You felt hands rubbing the back of your knuckles massaging the bone, the soreness, the stiffness of death leaving those joints…just like when he used to before. “I don’t love you.” He said with a smile. You almost flinched away so hard you swore the rushing water in the river looked inviting.

“But…I want to.” He whispered softly his fingers letting go of your knuckles and intertwining with your fingers. “We truly have all the time in the world to get to know each other…and Gale got you cleaned up…you're not exactly…well rotting corpse. Unless you do that breakdown thingy again. But you won’t. I won’t let it get to that point again. And I want to know it all, what you like to do, your past, your future other than me. All that stuff. And I’ll tell you the same.”

You felt like your heart was beating…it wasn’t but gods it felt like it was racing. You nodded eyes wide open. “Come darling, let's get to camp”

—-

You sat down the chubby badger next to him “good?” You asked, Astarion laid in his tent “Hm?- what in the hells! Don’t- don’t put it in the tent!!” He grumbled pushing the dead animal out the tent starting to burn some type of incense “Were you raised in a barn?!” He scoffed. You looked at the badger carcass in front of you “blood is draining from it. You might want to eat it.” You blinked blankly making him snort and sigh, deciding to enjoy this meal. You turned your head away from his feasting looking down at your knuckles “Getting stiff my dear?” He hummed “no…you asked if I was raised in a barn?” You smiled at him.

Astarion looked at you, his face covered in that delicious forbidden red sauce. “Was I right?” He chuckled, you shrugged, “Well no, I was raised in a castle.” You said your fingers traveled from his neck where he slightly bent it from the ticklish feeling, you brought your fingers up to his face wiping his lips with your thumb before putting it in your mouth humming in pleasure at the semi rewarding taste of something more…organic. You opened your eyes seeing Astarion looking at you “alright first, that was hot. Second, The hells do you mean a castle?! And how the hells did you end up here!!” He yelled

— maybe…you both could work.

((((Uhm so this is for my person who requested a part two for the zombie reader headcanon it was way longer than expected uhm I’m tired help. Uh expect a Karl Heisenberg fic and I think breaking will continue.)))))

@chaoticbardlady99 (for u! 🥺💙)

#writing #fanfiction #x reader #fanfic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin x reader #x female reader #astarion #zombie #zombie reader #astarion x you #astarion x reader

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pouroverpaloma · 3 months

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yellow and white!! :)

Hey thanks, this was fun!

💛 Yellow: Do you ever alter, highlight, or de-emphasize certain canonical traits in a character? If so, why and describe how.

Oh, god yeah. I feel like I give SO much energy and space to Gale’s trauma—it’s something only touched on in the game that I wanted to see explored narratively, and I felt like I could do it well.

I grew up in a pretty intense, charismatic kind of Christianity that was focused on experiencing the divine as a two-way personal relationship. Gale’s relationship with Mystra reflected a lot of the anxieties and fears I had growing up as an evangelical teenager—what if I was so good, that God chose me for something important? What if it was awful? What if God is cruel, actually, and I don’t find out until it’s too late? How could I escape someone omnipresent and omnipotent? Idk, his story hit me VERY hard as an exvangelical, and I feel like that heavily colors the way I write him. I just want to make him a spicy margarita and play him Ethel Cain’s entire catalog; it would fix him.

Also, I think anyone who’s read my stuff, especially this beauty that pleases too well, has probably guessed that the way I portray his survival of intimate partner violence is born from experience—but this is a tumblr post about a fictional wizard, so I’ll leave it there, except to say that I got my happy ending and it brings me a lot of joy to do that for him too.

Also also: his crow’s feet. If I’m writing him, you WILL see and appreciate the eye crinkles.

🩷 Pink: Do you find a certain character (or characters) easy to write? More difficult -- and if so, do you avoid writing that character (or those characters) when possible?

Shadowheart is so difficult to get right!! Done well, she’s dry and haughty but secretly having a great time fucking with you. It’s so easy to steer too hard into the skid and make her either boring or so snarky she’s unlikeable. You have to write her well enough to get her timing. She’s too much fun to leave out entirely, though, so I’m working on it.

I find Gale extraordinarily easy to write, probably because we’re both terminal nerds who overtalk to fill time. It’s like confronting my fucking Jungian shadow self, but in a horny way that I am in no way prepared to unpack.

I like writing Astarion, but I just never feel like I make him enough of a bitch. He deserves to be full bitch. The height of his powers. I can, should, must, and will find a way to let him be an emotional terrorist (affectionate) moving forward.

#paloma answers #asks #thanks this was really fun! I’ve never done one of these before #gale bg3

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fireheartedpup · 3 months

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The thing about the Volobotomy is that you pretty much have to forgo any sort of sense to get it, and I don't think any of the main companions would actually go through with it unless they were well and truly desperate.

Lae'zel is FRANTIC to get the tadpole removed and is willing to undergo torture or kill everyone just because it's there, so she's probably the most likely. That said, she does not suffer fools. At all. She would prefer to make Volo cower.

Shadowheart is also very impatient with people who don't know their shit (see: her calling you a donkey because you can't remember Gale's very specific instructions for retrieving his scroll of resurrection), and she's suspicious besides. She might suffer through it because loss or something, idk, but she'd be insulting Volo's intelligence the entire time.

Astarion has more patience, but he REALLY doesn't want to get hurt anymore. Also, he likes what the tadpole is doing for him. I don't think he'd go anywhere near Volo, honestly.

Gale might entertain him because he doesn't see an alternative and he feels he has nothing left to lose, but again--these are smart people. Volo's eye removal conversation has SO many red flags.

Wyll doesn't have an eye to remove. I think he'd have ethical issues with Volo, but also he might be the most likely to take a "why not" approach to the entire thing, so it's a little ironic.

Karlach's already been torn open and forced to accept foreign bodies as a part of her anatomy. I think if she did go through with it, it might trigger her very badly and give her nightmares. If she did go through with it then I think she'd take "I guess..." approach.

Minsc might. I don't know him well enough yet.

#bg3 #Baldur's gate 3 #volobotomy #eye scream #eye horror #body horror

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choccy-zefirka · 11 months

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I am absolutely baffled that this opinion is getting hatepilled, but can't people see how gatekeepy "specific Tavs" are? Say, I want to read a romance fic with Shadowheart, whom I am currently pursuing through act 2. My Tav is a curly redhead human woman. Another person's Tav may be a tiefling with blue hair and purple eyes. Or a yellow dragonborn. In a good fic, the writer would be considerate of that and leave Tav/"you" undescribed so that we can easily put these characters in their place. But if I open a fic and the Tav there is "a big green Orc man with such and such tattoos and piercings". That automatically excludes all readers whose Tavs do not look like that, which is probably 99.9℅ of them. That is poor practice that alienates the readerbase.

Anon... I mean this in the kindest way possible... How do you read published fiction? Even the blandest of everyman protagonists, like idk, Bella Swan, have some sort of defined appearance and interests! (Usually English literature lol)

Also, I will use this opportunity to point out that it's not just about appearance, but about backstory and character dynamics. Who is this big green Orc? Is he a gentle giant that grows comically shy and flustered around Shadowheart? Is he a boisterous noisy bard that causes her to roll her eyes but also endears himself to her, coaxing out a laugh? Is he quiet and stoic, never prying out her secrets? Is he an edgelord who pushes her to become a Dark Justiciar?

I suppose it does not matter that much if the fic is pwp... Or does it? Maybe it's a kinky Orc who wants nothing more than for Shadowheart to step on his throat/forbid him from climaxing until she tells him to/etc etc? Maybe he is asexual and is content letting Shadowheart spend the night with Halsin and then return to him with stories? Or maybe he's allo but a virgin, because people were too appalled by his appearance for him to find a lover?

I am sorry, this response got away from me because I obsessed with his hypothetical Orc now. I am not sure if the point I was trying to make came across well or not. My intention, when offering custom Tavs, is not to gatekeep people whose Tavs are different; it's to tell their unique stories (whether or not I can do it as well as Larian is, of course, up for debate). Just as I would have loved to hear about your Tav, she sounds super-cute!

#this is rambly i am sorry i am sleeby #bg3

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optiwashere · 10 months

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What type of nerdy is Asheera when it comes to the Grymforge?

Is it like How can I make this better? Or

Gushing about what is already there?

I feel like it would be like a jock at a gym sizing up other people their and anime smirking to themselves hypothosizing how they can do better than them. But like in a more reverent way rather than like a smug wizard way. Like after Shadowheart waxes poetical about her Sharty cult, it's Asheera's turn to talk her ear off about what she would have done to keep the forge running to this day, preserving minthral veins for future use, having a Grym off switch so it doesn't have to be rebuilt each time. All the while her ruddy marbles sparkle for the first time in a while not just from the insane magma luminescence but from being able to be unabashedly passionate about something that is so definitively her.

She's too busy wildly gesticulating and pointing at fadded parchment and scribbled schematics to notice how Shadowheart's gaze never leaves her. How she thumbs the idol in her pack looking at the pure genuineness gushing from the half orc and wondering to herself. Why can't she have both?

Or maybe Asheera just likes the forge idk nvm

First of all, the vibes of this ask are immaculate.

It's a mixture of awe and mild disappointment because it's all been left to sit there. She'd never seen anything like it before, not even in the High House of Wonders back in Baldur's Gate.

To add onto that prior ask response here, this is something that would live well in fics as a brief moment. Something kinda like this?

She was a vision in battle and she spoke kindly of others, but Shadowheart couldn't recall a time when Asheera was this interested in something. She'd only known the paladin a short while, but the change was charming in its own way. Usually focused otherwise on the tadpoles and guiding the party through dangers untold, Asheera's eyes darted every which way in the sweltering heat of the colossal forge. Sweat flecked her brow, but she didn't seem to care. It was all second nature to her, Shadowheart realized. It was likely why she didn't mind being near Karlach when they all ate together. "The High Artificer back in Baldur's Gate will never believe it," Asheera muttered. She tapped her tusks against her lips in concentration. "Adamantine... there's mithral veins here as well?" As Asheera rooted around the long worktable, opening scroll tubes and sighing when dust was all they contained, Shadowheart watched while, beside her, Gale continued to cool himself with breaths of frost. Watched as Asheera unfolded schematics of some sort, a smile on her face as her eyes roamed every inch of parchment. The heat from the magma swirling around them in rivers warmed Shadowheart's face. Surely it was that. She thought of the stone idol Asheera had given her as they took a brief rest on the cliffs overlooking what appeared to be a massive temple to the Nightsinger herself. Where should I put it in camp? There's room for it... if I just move... Remembering the gift, her face burned again. All from the forge, naturally. The sound of a throat clearing next to her startled Shadowheart from her thoughts. Astarion examined her with focused eyes, not a drop of sweat on his face that wore a knowing look. "Why do you stare at me? Some of us actually still sweat, you know," Shadowheart said instinctively. "Oh, we're trying deflection are we?" A laugh tittered from his parted lips. He tapped his tongue on one of his fangs before continuing. "For your information, I'm not staring at you. I'm looking in your direction. You wear projection as well as you do all this dreary black." He walked away with a flash of a smile, giving Shadowheart time to curse him and his vampiric paranoia for seeing things that weren't there. It gave her plenty of time to watch Asheera scribble down notes, copying details from the schematics she pored over like a giddy adventurer who found a hoard of magical artifacts. Plenty of time to consider where the idol would go so that Asheera could see it in camp. That was a worthwhile gift in return, wasn't it?

An aside: there's also a Gondian temple in Waterdeep called the House of Inspired Hands (had to look at my old Waterdeep sourcebooks to remember that lol) and I like to imagine Shadowheart has to endure going there every time they visit Gale.

#hey you can ask me things!#accidentally became a ficlet whoops #bg3 fanfiction #shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #oc: asheera #my fic #anotheropti prompt fics #I'm gonna tack it onto that tag bc I plan on putting this in the AO3 collection I'll make for those later (sometime in December? idk)

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blackloki · 3 months

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Astarion x Everyone (idk)

Astarion wakes with a start. If he had anything to regurgitate, the smell of the soggy room that traps him would've engendered a gush of moltenous vomit; hot, sticky, and with the all the qualities of spoiled milk.

God, he wished that he could cry. He was so scared. Where even was he? Maybe if he pled to Cazador, he'd get out sooner.

'He'll never be satisfied until I be good. He doesn't love me anymore...' Astarion thought. His skin felt utterly unrecognizable to his sense of touch. 'I must be quiet if I expect him to come get me. He's coming back just for me.'

"Astarion~" The way that his name was said made him clutch closer into himself. "I'm here to make you feel better. Have you been my good boy? Tell me you haven't embarrassed me in front of my friends."

Fingers dug through his curls and Astarion shuddered. "I'm your good boy.. "

Cruel giggles could be heard just above him. Astarion zoned out and before he knew it, he was sitting on the floor of Cazador's carriage. Muzzled, but dressed. Astarion took comfort in the feeling of having clothes on, despite the heavy weight of the light bruising across his body.

"You know, pet, you're quickly becoming my favourite." Cazador began. "You've grown so well under my care and now I don't have to worry about you misbehaving anymore. Keep along this path and you may win my heart just yet."

Astarion didn't know if it was joy, disgust, or hope that sparked in his chest at the thought of winning Cazador's favour. He could either be tossed around or kept directly under Cazador's watchful eye; both options kept him leashed to the pure personification of horror. Honestly, he's not sure which he would rather prefer. He's sure at one point, he had enough bite in his heart to say 'neither'.

If Astarion of then could see the Astarion of now, he wouldn't recognize himself. The thought nearly brought Astarion to tears despite his incredible thirst.

Cazador's heated fingers ghosted over Astarion's face. He tried not to tremble to much or even pull away noticeably, but he couldn't stop his breath from catching painfully in the junction between his throat and clavicle. So painful that his heart even began to feel discomfort.

"Star..." Cazador's voice said, "Kar.. Karlach says she adores you. She thinks that your curls are as soft as a licking flame."

'Karlach?' Astarion thought. 'What's Cazador doing to my friend?'

"And Halsin says that he thinks your smile is like the sunlight peeking through the leaves." Why is Cazador telling him this? He looked to Cazador and realized he wasn't sure if he was really there. "Everyone else is here, too."

As the words were spoken, Astarion realized he must've been dreaming. Cazador's disgusting face had was wrenched itself into his waking nightmare. Gosh, he hates being alive.

As his eyes cleared, finally coming to, his eyes first landed on Gale who's worried face sat directly above his lap. Gale, the annoying wizard, was kneeling at his feet, peering into his face, hoping above all that he was okay.

"Gale says he likes your laugh. He thinks it's the best when you laugh so genuinely that it knocks you back a bit."

Astarion could barely register what was being said beyond names. He wasn't actively processing words at all, just processing faces. What did all these faces mean? What did they mean to him?

"And Shadowheart says you make her heart soft. Even though everyone knows you're her soft spo- ack!" He imagines the speaker has been wacked and it almost grounds him.

"Lae'zel says she likes your voice." A hum of approval follows the statement. "She thinks your voice is calming, soothing to hear. I think so, too."

Someone outside of the speaker asks a question. The speaker answers all the same. "I think you’re incredible. You make the best out of all situations and you deserve more appreciation and support on that."

"We care about you, Astarion. You just gotta depend on us, even if just a little bit."

Astarion's eyes drifted over Gale's face again. The wizard sitting so sweetly, not daring to touch even Astarion's hands. It grounded Astarion completely. He was here with his family. The people he loves the most. People who value him and his autonomy. People who would never have used his vulnerabilities against him. He was safe.

A tear salted Astarion's cheek as he leaned slowly towards Gale, who rose quickly to meet him halfway. Inside of Gale's warm hold, he wept.

When he felt like he was done crying, despite his eyes having more tears, he sat up. Before even saying anything, a wipe appeared in front of his face.

Wyll was watching him closely, centering Astarion under his protectionin that moment.

"Can I clean your face, Star? I know how you are about that pretty face of yours." Wyll took the time to glance away, like he was trying to give space to Astarion without moving. Even if for just a second. "I'll never understand how someone who's perfect can be so anal about appearances."

Astarion smiled a bit and prompted Gale to sit next to him. "You think I'm perfect?"

Wyll smiled so softly it hurt to look at.

"Who wouldn't? After getting to know you, I'm surprised if someone managed to think you were anything but." Wyll's breath caressed his face as he leaned down, his warm hands cupping Astarion's face. "You're everything beautiful. Maybe not good or nice, but beautiful."

The wet cloth felt amazing against Astarion's skin; making quiet the pinpricks and static seated just under it. Wyll as always was gentle with Astarion. Taking his time to make Astarion feel just that bit cleaner.

"Now, Wyll, what about me?" Gale grinned, his arms looped around Astarion's waist. "Aren't I beautiful? Look at me!"

Wyll just rolled his eyes, pecking Astarion's lips as he stood up. "You're everything beautiful and Gale is everything annoying."

Astarion scoffed at the both of them now bickering. His spirits lifted by his friends.

"Are y'all in here bothering, Star?"

"That's not fair, I wanna see Star, too!"

"Yes, we are ready to help him feel better!"

"I just want my spot back."

As the ruckus started back up, Astarion felt better about asking them for protection. Watching them all fight over his time and company was reason enough to find comfort in them. He doesn't know when he'll find the courage to tell all of his companions about the nightmares. Hopefully, he'll still have his companions, even when the nightmares eat him alive again.

All of his friends are insane and he loves them so deeply. The only people he feels protected by are ridiculous and loves them so incredibly. The only people in the world who matter to Astarion are so caring and he loves them so fiercely.

#halstarion #it's okay #i'm not totally in love with this story #but i gotta get this draft away from myself

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kittenintheden · 1 year

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Not Your Sweetheart, Chapter 1

Evening rebagel along with some actual text idk I haven't used this site to post for a thousand years.

This is also on AO3 if that's your preference.

AN: The one where I absolutely delight in reminding everyone that Astarion has a dead average 10 charisma and an 18 CHA Tav gives him a run for his goddamn money in all the best and most angsty ways.

AKA "gets away with it bc hottie w/a body" meets "wins every social interaction and is also troubled and hot."

AKA the seducer gets seduced and he's mad about it, until he isn't.

But also it's a whole campaign? You know.

Orianna wakes flat on her back and surrounded by fire.

She immediately rolls to one side, head throbbing, and spits a mouthful of blood over the dark ground. No, it can’t be happening already. Can it? It’s much too soon. It can’t.

Her fingers go to her mouth, exploring. There’s raw pain there, but it’s the sort that comes from a badly split lip, not the sudden onset of tentacles. She closes her eyes and heaves a shuddering breath.

Right. On her feet, then. The fires aren’t close enough to burn her, but she’d rather not wait for them to spread.

It’s more difficult to stand than it should be. Everything hurts. What happened? She staggers forward through the wreckage around her and tries to remember. Finds an instrument on the ground, miraculously intact, and picks it up with shaking hands. Lashes it to its place on her back.

Pieces of a nearby pod bring back memories in fits and starts. The nautilus. The mind-flayers. The tadpole, its circular mouth full of razor teeth coming closer and closer. She goes to her hands and knees and vomits stringy bile. There’s nothing else in her stomach.

She’d been falling. How had she survived? How had any of this…

Nearby, there’s a soft groan, and Ori struggles to focus. There’s someone else there, humanoid in shape. She gets back on her feet and stumbles closer to find the other half-elf she’d met on the ship, the dark-haired one that showed such immediate distrust for the githyanki in her company.

The gith. Where is she?

A look around the immediate vicinity reveals nothing, so she turns her attention back to the half-elf, who's coming back to consciousness. Helps her up. They exchange words, none of which really matter beyond their agreement to form a tentative alliance amid this hellscape.

They pick through the wreckage, collecting anything useful from the corpses strewn about and feeling no sorrow for it, for they’re already dead and gone. Once or twice, they smash a surviving intellect devourer to paste a bit too forcefully. Neither of them comment on the darkness in the other. It’s simply known.

When they make it to the far side and see the blue sparkle of water, Ori releases her breath in an exuberant exhale. The world she knew does, in fact, still exist, and the sea air on her skin is a balm. Blinking into the bright sunshine, she and her companion – Shadowheart, she calls herself – follow the winding path until they come across another lone figure, backlit against the cloudless sky.

Ori takes in the eccentric clothing of a noble and a flash of whitish hair before the man turns and she sees red eyes and a liar’s practiced mask.

She knows that mask. It’s the same one she wears every time she catches her reflection.

***

Astarion quiets the howling panic clawing at the inside of his skull as soon as he catches the two hapless women coming toward him out of the corner of his eye. His muscles, still coiled tight with the urge to fight run scream sob flee begin to relax because this is something he can do. He can lure. And lure he shall.

They may not be able to help, but if nothing else, they’ll make an excellent apology gift when his master finally finds him and twists his ear clean off, dragging him back to the dark.

As they draw closer, he recognizes them. They ran past his pod on that aberration’s ship, the creature that let that toothy little horror make a home in his eye socket. Definitely not the worst pain he’s ever endured, but hardly pleasant. They’d managed to escape, then. Or perhaps they were never prisoners to begin with.

His spine straightens. That makes them potentially useful. Or dangerous.

He shifts his focus to the underbrush, schooling his expression into one of concern. When the pair come close enough, he acts.

“You, there,” he says, waving a hand. “I’ve cornered one of those brain things. Help me take care of it, will you?”

He looks to them, allowing them to see what so many others have seen before: a beautiful man on the wrong side of the tracks, so out of his element and so in need of their charity, their care. Maybe there’s a reward in it for them, if they play their cards right.

The dark-haired one looks skeptical and hangs back while the other takes a few steps closer. He focuses on that one, the light gray-skinned drow with a shock of pastel pink hair plastered to her head with muck and blood. There are two small black bumps protruding from her hairline, which confuse him for a tick before he puts that thought at the back of his mind to focus on his current problem.

“Come on.” He waves her over and points at the brush. “I saw you kill some back there.”

Her eyes narrow and her jaw sets, and in that instant he knows he’s lost her. Unfortunate.

“You look capable. Take care of it yourself,” she says, turning to walk away.

“Pity,” he sighs. “I was hoping for a kind soul.”

He moves lightning quick, but even so, she spots the flash of his dagger before he can get the better of her and whirls, catching him with a forearm to the chest and shoving him back.

“What did you do to me?” he snarls, brandishing his weapon as she raises her own knife. He hadn’t even seen her draw it. He’d be impressed if he weren’t so confused. “I saw you up there, running free while I was trapped. You and that tentacled freak, what did you-”

A pulse sears through his brain and he cries out, hands going to his temples. He barely registers her doing the same before memories that aren’t his flash through his mind almost too fast to register. Blurry images of being inside a pod, of another tadpole, of walking dark streets and feeling angry scared vengeful twisted inside before vanishing in a cloud of scattered ash.

They blink at one another, slowly drawing back to their full height and recognizing what’s happened.

“They did it to you, too,” he says, filling the silence and stilling the dark-haired half-elf, who readies her shield and brandishes a mace. “Put one of those crawlies in your brain. Huh. And to think, I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards.” He slowly sheaths his dagger and inclines his head. “Apologies. I’m called Astarion.”

The drow, or… he cocks his head to regard her again. Half-drow, maybe? Either way, she takes a moment before she decides he’s no longer a threat and lowers her own weapon. She regards him cooly and says, “You wouldn’t have gotten that far. But apology accepted, I guess. I’m Orianna, and I’m watching you.”

“Well, of course you are, I’m a vision,” he says, but he tucks his dagger farther into his holster and holds his hands up in supplication. "Do you happen to have any idea what they did to us?"

The pair of them explain mind-flayers and parasites, along with the big reveal that they'll all likely be monstrosities in a few days' time unless they find a cure. Of course. Just his luck.

He looks them up and down again. “You know… I was going to go it alone, but I think there could be benefits to running with the herd. You seem surprisingly capable. What do you say?”

There’s an extended stretch of quiet during which Orianna continues to glare at him. Just as he’s sure she’s going to say no, she instead says, “Fine. We need to get out of here, so we’ll take whatever gives us an advantage. So long as you walk in front, that is.”

He sighs. “Fair.” To the other woman, he says, “Kindly make sure she doesn’t put her dagger through me, won’t you?”

She simply shrugs.

“Fantastic company,” he mutters as he passes them to take the lead. “I’m certain I won’t regret this at all.”

One of them gives a soft snort behind him, though he can’t tell which one.

They scout along the coast for anything useful and come upon camp supplies and a door built right into the sea cliff. When they find it locked, he has a go at picking it open, but his tools aren’t quite right.

“Damn,” he says, shaking off the sting from his pinched finger. “Not this way.”

When he looks back, he sees the maybe-drow-maybe-not regarding him carefully.

“What did you say you did, exactly?” she asks. “For a living.”

“I’m a magistrate back in Baldur’s Gate,” he lies easily, tossing his pick in the air and catching it. “Standard training. Never know when you’ll need to access an arrestee’s home.”

“Sure,” she says, continuing to stare for another moment before she turns away to look through some abandoned crates.

She’s very clever. Surprises upon surprises. He’ll need to watch himself around her. As she turns her back to him, he notices the instrument strapped there for the first time. He’d missed it when he’d simply been interested in putting a dagger to her throat.

A bard? Intriguing. Most bards he’d known were very fun but very dim. Made it that much easier to lure them in. This one, though. She’s got a brain and a honed sense for danger. Bet she’s got a hell of a story.

The other woman – Shadowheart, he’s learned – walks up to them, brushing sand off her hands. “I don’t think there’s another way around,” she says. “We’ll have to go back through the wreckage.”

There’s nothing for it, but the wreck isn’t so bad now that most everything’s dead. When they enter a larger chamber, they freeze as they spot an illithid splayed on the ground. It glares at them, tentacles floating weakly, but doesn’t move to stand or cast.

Astarion’s pulling out an arrow to put through its eye when Orianna steps forward and blocks his line of sight like a complete fool. She walks toward the thing and Shadowheart follows her. Clearly he’d misread both of their mental fortitude.

He’s about to duck behind a pile of purple something as they get themselves killed, but pauses when the bard raises her boot and smashes the thing’s face in with it. The expression she wears is one of pure hatred. He winces as the tadpole in his head squirms. He gets the distinct sense that the mind-flayer is trying to say something to them, but then the boot comes down again and it’s gone.

Orianna reaches into a pouch on her belt for a pinch of something that looks like ash and throws it violently down at the body before looking around and gesturing him back into position.

He does so, but as he walks by, he gives her the same scrutinizing look she’s been giving him. Her face remains passive but for the slightest tick on one side of her jaw.

Very interesting bard, this one.

They make it up the incline and through the last of the broken ship. There are well-worn paths on the other side, so they choose one and start walking, remaining on alert. When it becomes clear that the immediate danger has passed, Astarion allows himself to lower his bow and take a moment.

He’s… walking in the sun. He’s alive and walking in the sun. Transferring the bow to his off-hand, he holds his palm up and looks at it. His skin is unmarred, but also a color he never gets to see. He hasn’t seen his skin in natural light for more than a century, nearly two.

The sun feels warm. Warmth is something he rarely experiences outside of being threatened with fire.

And he can’t sense Cazador.

That’s the part that really sits like molten metal in his gut. His master is always lurking, always watching. He knows each and every thing Astarion does. The bond between them grants Cazador total dominance over him, a lesson that he has learned again, and again, and again.

Yet here he is, walking free. No snake hissing into his ear, no compulsion forcing his feet toward the palace. No one telling him that he can no longer stand in the sunshine.

He would go on reminiscing, but they’ve just come across an arm sticking out of a glyph on a rockface.

One confusing conversation later, they’re watching a man in blue robes that Orianna just pulled from the portal explain how he came to be stuck inside a wall. Astarion doesn’t track much of the following verbal onslaught beyond the fact that this man does magic and he also has a tadpole in his brain, just like the rest of them.

The bard smiles warmly at the rambling wizard, allowing him to carry on for a while before she diplomatically stops him and agrees that he can tag along.

“Introductions are in order. I’m Gale of Waterdeep,” the new recruit says, inclining his head.

“Orianna,” the bard responds. “You can call me Ori, if you’d like.”

“Ori,” Astarion says. “Cute. I rather like that.”

The sparkle leaves her eyes as she gives him a withering look. “Not you. You don’t get to use nicknames until you make up for trying to stab me in the back.”

Astarion rolls his eyes dramatically. “For fuck’s sake, you already accepted my apology. And I wasn’t going to stab you. Not right then, anyway.”

“Do I… want to rethink my decision to stick with the group?” Gale says, looking between them. “Are you actually a band of murderers and villains?”

Orianna says, “Would it really matter if we were? We’re the only ones here who can help one another out.”

Gale raises his brows and nods. “An excellent point. Onward, then.”

It feels like moments later that they’re standing in a pool of tiefling blood and letting a lady githyanki, of all things, out of a hunter’s trap. The women seem to know one another already, but given the variety of looks ranging from relief to disgust they keep throwing at one another, the relationship is a complicated one.

Astarion wipes off one of his blades while Gale prestidigitates the blood off their shoes. Orianna is speaking to the githyanki, Lae’zel, in low tones. He catches her saying something about leaving no one behind.

“Oh, I get it now,” Astarion says, tucking away his weapons. “You have a savior complex. It all makes sense.”

Orianna looks most unimpressed with him. She shrugs a pack off her shoulder and tosses it his way.

“Tell you what,” she says. “The four of us will scout out that monastery back there for anything worth having. You go ahead and set us up a nice camp somewhere, hm?”

“Is that a joke?” Astarion says.

“No,” she says, walking past him with Shadowheart, who’s obviously infatuated, and the githyanki in tow. Gale gives him a perplexed look before shrugging and handing him a small stone – something, something, locate object spell, blah, blah, blah – before following the ladies.

Honestly, he’s legitimately tempted to steal this pack of supplies and go… where?

He sways on his feet.

Where would he go? And how long would it take Cazador to find him there?

A full-body shudder passes through him and for one terrifying moment, he’s convinced he can feel the creeping chains of his bondage closing around his wrists, but then the feeling’s gone.

“Right,” he says, swallowing thickly. “Set up a camp. Never done that before.”

***

Hours later, he’s watching the sunset from the low branches of a tree when the others stumble upon him. They look very much worse for wear, covered in blood and bone dust. All except for Lae’zel, who seems quite at ease. Still covered in blood, of course, but how much of it is hers, he can’t rightly say.

They drop their belongings and all but collapse beside the fire he started – thank you, elven bloodline, for that handy cantrip. He did all right, he thinks. There’s a fire, he set out some bedrolls, he even made a little hor d'oeuvres plate with the meager rations from the pack. They’d given him enough time to procure a snack of his own, so they were welcome to them.

Gods, it had been alarmingly satisfying to drain a pair of plump rabbits instead of a diseased slip of a rat.

“Long day at the office?” Astarion sing-songs from his perch, leg dangling over the branch. “Do my darlings need a foot massage?”

Gale doesn’t look up from his hundred-meter stare into the fire and responds, “I mean, if you’re offering.”

Astarion chuckles to himself, refocusing on the sun sinking below the horizon. He’s legitimately sorry to see it go. Who knows what the morrow will bring. Today could be the one and only time he ever gets to stand in the light a while.

Below, his tenuous allies eat their meal and retreat to the various nooks they’ve carved out for themselves around the clearing Astarion's found them. They must be exhausted if they’re willing to pass out with no one but him around for security. Idiots.

Some time later, he’s startled out of his jumbled thoughts when a throat clears nearby. He checks the short drop down to find Orianna looking up at him. She’s clean of blood, her hair damp and unmatted as if she’d found a stream to wash up.

“Come on down from there,” she says. “I think we’ve some things to clear up.”

He’s tempted to ignore her out of pure spite, but no, it’s in his best interest to play nice. As nice as he can, anyway. So he holds on to the branch and drops himself to the ground, landing noiselessly beside her.

“What things would those be, pet?” he says nonchalantly.

She jerks her head toward the fire. “Let’s talk over there. It’s cold.”

“Lead the way.”

They sit on the makeshift log bench next to the campfire and he watches her stretch her legs toward the flames, closing her eyes and heaving an exhausted sigh. After a moment, she reaches toward her pack and pulls out the instrument he’d seen earlier. She sets it across her lap and begins to test it.

“Are we going to have it out, or am I here to listen to your rendition of Wonder’s Wall?” he says, looking as bored as he possibly can.

“Let’s start over,” she says.

“Beg pardon?”

She fiddles with a knob on the neck of the instrument, plucking a string and listening. “We’ve just been abducted, submitted to involuntary eye surgery, ripped across a few planes, and landed in a fiery crash. On top of that, we’ll likely be mind-flayers in three days' time if we can’t find a cure. It’s been a bit of a mindfuck. So, let’s start over.” She puts the instrument aside and turns toward him on their log, meeting his eyes. “Hi. I’m Orianna. You can call me Ori, if you’d like.”

He regards her, taking her in fully before he answers. In the light of the fire, he can see freckles smattered across her face and shoulders, adding dimension to her warm-toned gray skin. Her hair remains that unusual pastel pink, but now it’s washed and falls in damp ringlets to just below her chin. Lavender eyes watch him for a response, and near the dip of her throat he sees the beginning of fine line floral tattoos weaving across her collarbones and traveling down her upper arms before disappearing underneath her loose linen top. The thin vines and flowers wind over her forearms as well, all the way to her ring fingers.

“Ever so nice to meet you, Orianna,” he says. “I’m still Astarion.”

She hums an affirmation and picks her instrument back up, apparently satisfied with this exchange. As she begins to softly pick out some chords, he asks, “What is that, anyway? It’s too small to be a lute.”

“It’s a mandolin,” she answers. “They're common where I'm from.”

“I see,” he says. He takes a closer look at the two short black protrusions at the front of her skull. “And what are those horns about?”

She stops her picking and glances at him, but this time it’s with a look of bemused exasperation rather than disdain. “Not one for politeness, are you?”

He gives a short laugh. “Propriety is a sham. The only reason anyone is ever polite is because they want something. Better to just lay the obvious on the table, I say. Did you make a deal with a devil?”

“That’s a bit racist,” she scolds lightly.

“You will notice I asked ‘what are those horns,’ not ‘what are you.’ So? At first I thought you were drow, but that’s not quite right. There’s no tail, so I don’t think you’re a tiefling.”

“I’m not,” she acquiesces. “I’m half-elf. Shadow Fey on my mother’s side.”

He leans back and grins. “Shadow Fey! As in, of the Shadowfell?”

“Well, not me personally. I grew up in the Underdark. Mostly. Either way, the horns are natural.”

He reaches up to run a hand through his hair. “And the pink? Is that… natural?”

“Impolite and cheeky,” she says.

“See, you know me so well already.”

Orianna sets her mandolin aside for good this time and gets up to stretch. She looks down at him and says, “I don’t mind the people around me keeping secrets. Gods know I’m good at it. So, keep your secrets, and I’ll keep mine, and the others will keep theirs. So long as it doesn’t interfere with this convenient little partnership we’ve got going, I think we’ll be fine. Goodnight, Astarion. Wake me when you need to trance and I’ll take watch.”

He tuts at her. “Now, now. I’m an open book.”

She says, “Sure you are, love.” Then she walks off into the dark.

After another few minutes beside the fire, he gets up himself to go lay out his bedroll for later. He walks by a large tree, looks around, yells out, and stumbles backwards into the main clearing.

“Whassat?” the wizard says, eyes gummed shut with sleep as he raises his head from his bedroll. The githyanki is already on her feet with sword in hand.

Astarion whirls on them. “Was anyone going to tell me that there’s a sentient mummified bone man standing by the supplies?” he yells.

***

Beyond the glow of the campfire, Ori sighs to herself as Astarion and Lae’zel escalate to a screaming match on the other side of the clearing. These are going to be the longest three days of her life. The lot she’s wound up with are all capable, certainly, but even if they survive this parasite, it seems unlikely that they’ll survive one another.

Not that it matters. It’s the option available to her, and she hasn’t survived this long by overlooking useful resources or refusing to ask for help.

The tadpole rolls behind her eye and she grits her teeth, rage burning anew at the invasion. She’d only needed one more day. One more fucking day, and she would have accepted whatever the universe decided she deserved. She’d been so close.

“I hate seeing you so angry.”

She closes her eyes, unsurprised at the familiar voice behind her shoulder. Rather than turn or acknowledge it, she kneels and fusses with her bedroll.

“Your laugh brightens the world. I wish I could hear it, still,” the voice says.

“You shouldn’t be here, Elias,” she whispers, finally glancing over. “You can’t be here.”

The figure that sits cross-legged beside her gives a familiar smile. Human, with black hair cut short and hanging shaggy in their golden brown eyes. “I’m not the one who won’t let go.”

“You know what I have to do,” she says, hands clenching into fists.

Elias leans forward. “You don’t have to do anything. You want to do it.”

“She has to pay,” Ori spits. “And yes, I want to make it hurt.”

The figure places a hand over hers. She sees it there, but feels nothing.

“Then I’ll help as best I can,” they whisper, their voice breaking like spider silk on a breeze.

When Ori looks up, Elias is gone, and her new companions are still yelling. She curls up on top of her bedroll and shuts her eyes.

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