#and then she gives me a githyanki hiss

[ilikedetectives]

[nyrandrea]

Everything's Fine

As you try to deal with everything that has been thrown at you so early into your journey: forced leadership, mindflayer tadpoles and taking on everybody's personal problems, it all just gets a bit too much for you.

(Takes place during Act 1)

Word Count - 3.5k

Also available to read here on AO3!

Enjoy!

xxx

You felt your patience starting to wear incredibly thin when you realised Astarion had been staring at you for over five minutes now. 

Not directly, he would never be so conspicuous—at least, not intentionally— but you kept catching those fleeting glances he was throwing your way; the corners of his red eyes crinkling every so often before returning to whatever book he was pretending to read. It wasn’t one of those charming, smouldering gazes he would sometimes give you after a night of feeding, asking if you were alright, knowing full-well that your answer was a resounding ‘I’m fine’, and that you would provide for him again soon. 

No, what he was doing right now—very carefully—was scanning you, studying you,  judging you. It was as if he was trying to leer right through to your very soul. 

You almost had half a mind to stomp over to his tent and demand what his problem was, but there were other unfortunate issues to contend with. 

Namely Shadowheart and Lae'zel. 

“I already told you that the artefact is my responsibility,” Shadowheart said, her aloof demeanour and confident tone betrayed by the hand hovering over the hilt of her dagger. “This way it will protect us all, I thought we had already established that!” 

“We have established nothing,” Lae’zel hissed back. “We only agreed not to slit each other’s throats in the night, though...,” she grimaced. “I still have no reason to trust that you will not try again.” 

“At least there’s still some sense in that bullish head of yours.” 

“Tsk!” Lae’zel spat at Shadowheart’s feet, much to the latter’s disgust as she recoiled back. “However, the matter still stands that the relic you hold onto belongs to my people. Therefore, it should be in my possession!” 

The cleric sneered. “I would sooner slit my own throat.” 

“Then go right ahead. Nobody will stop you.” 

Rubbing at your temples to try and ease the incoming migraine that, for once, was not caused by the mindflayer parasite living rent-free in your head, you decided to step in-between the two women, not really caring about risking a gutting from their trigger-happy blades. 

“C’mon, we’re not seriously having this fight again?” You huff incredulously, the question already sounding stupid as soon as it left your mouth. Because of course they were having this fight again. They had it yesterday, and the day before that, and they were probably going to have it tomorrow as well. 

“We are, as it happens,” Shadowheart replied, her eyes flickering briefly to you before narrowing forward again. “Because this savage bitch won’t leave me alone!” 

Lae’zel bared her teeth in a cruel grin. “Better to be that than a revrykal of Shar.” 

At the mention of her Goddess’s name, Shadowheart practically lunged herself towards Lae’zel with an enraged scream, her dagger raised high with the intention of plunging it straight into the githyanki’s chest, who in turn raised her shield to protect herself. In that moment, you were nothing to them but a speck of dust in the wind. 

It wasn’t until your hand shot up in a blind panic when Shadowheart realised what she was doing, forcing her to suddenly pull back to avoid injuring you, only a moment too late as her knife slashed the palm of your hand. Blood sprayed across the ground as your short but pained cry echoed throughout the camp. 

“Oh Gods...” Shadowheart muttered as everyone was suddenly on their feet and crowded around the three of you in a matter of moments. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t... mean to...!” 

“What? Attempt to kill our leader in cold blood?” Lae’zel muttered as she took your trembling hand to examine it, you only stared ahead as the shock took a moment to wear off. You didn’t even register her uncharacteristically gentle touch as she turned your palm up. “Only a flesh wound, you will live.” 

“Still,” Astarion piped up from behind. “Perhaps it would be best to get that dressed up lest you attract any...*ahem* unsavoury visitors.” 

“It would seem we already have,” Lae’zel replied, to which the vampire put a hand up to his chest in mock offence. 

“Lae’zel, you depreciate me,” he pouted. “I’m hurt.” 

Astarion’s sudden cold grasp on your wrist startled you as he decided to examine the cut himself in a much less gentle manner than Lae’zel. “Not that I would be able to get much from this anyway, even if I tried.” 

You were slightly worried that he was pondering the idea the longer he stared at the wound; you could practically see him drooling. It wasn’t until you cleared your throat that he snapped out of his daze. 

“Well, we should probably get this cleaned up anyhow,” he finally said. “To avoid infection and whatnot.” 

“...You’re not gonna lick it clean, are you?” Karlach asked with a grimace. 

“Of course not!” Astarion bit back, much more flustered this time. “I’m not some savage beast, you know.” 

“That’s... debatable,” Gale piped in. 

“Well! It’s lovely to know that you all think so little of me; the feeling is very much mutual,” Astarion said with a fake smile before taking you by the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’ll have to nurse this poor wounded soul, as well as my pride.” 

He started guiding you away from the rest of the group, you only allowed him to because the whole situation had you in a bit of a daze, but not before Shadowheart tried to get in another “I’m... I’m sorry.” 

“It’s... I’m fine,” you replied with whatever level of composure you could muster up with a smile in a small attempt to reassure her before allowing yourself to be led towards Astarion’s tent. Your words seemed to satisfy her as Shadowheart returned a sorrowful but grateful nod, though her expression turned sour when Karlach stepped between her and Lae’zel. 

“Alright now, ladies, what do you two say we let out our pent-up aggression towards each other in a healthier and less murder-y way, huh?” The tiefling suggested before holding up her finger to not let the other two get a word in edgewise. “And before you ask, I will not be taking no for an answer.” 

A small smile graced your lips at Karlach’s enthusiastic yet surprisingly pragmatic way of taking charge, and it seemed to be working as Shadowheart and—to your utter astonishment—Lae’zel agreed to whatever training regimen she had in store for them.  

‘Perhaps Karlach should take over as leader...’  

The idea was extinguished as soon as it had entered your mind, replaced with thoughts of the tiefling messing everything up, of her killing you in your sleep, that you shouldn’t trust her to lead your party. The only one who should have any authority over these subordinates is you. Only you are worthy. 

The voice quieted down after a few moments, leaving you only with a pounding head—just another one of the many wonderful side-effects of the parasite. 

You didn’t take any heed of whatever thoughts the tadpole forced upon you. You knew that Karlach would never hurt you, or any of the others for that matter—not by choice, anyway. However, those flashes of betrayal and blood were starting to wear you down a bit, especially with the lack of sleep; the very notion of it had been non-existent since you escaped the nautiloid and accepted the leadership that everyone had practically forced upon you. 

You weren’t exactly a natural-born leader; hell, you barely managed to keep yourself alive never mind a whole group of people. 

“That’s going to need stitches,” Astarion said as he observed your hand more closely now that the two of you were in the privacy of his tent. Heat flushed around your cheeks at how close the two of you were. Flashes of that night you had shared a bed—or well, the forest floor—came to mind, and you hated how flustered it made you. It was a one-night stand, a bit of fun to ease the stress of adventuring; clearly it meant nothing. At least... that was what you were made to feel. 

What had been a night of passion for you, had been the same old dance for him. 

“Take a seat there,” Astarion’s said, his voice cutting through your thoughts like a knife. “I should have a needle around here, somewhere.” 

“You know how to sew?” You asked, settling down on a cushioned stool. 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said, and a sting of guilt surged in your chest. “How do you think I’ve kept these clothes looking so good for over two hundred years? Certainly not by magic.” 

“Why not just buy new clothes?” 

Your prodding seemed to hit a nerve as he paused for a moment. 

“Why waste the coin?” He finally replied, sounding a little dejected. 

“Sorry,” you said, biting your lip as you tried to think of a way to quickly rectify your carelessness. “You do look great, by the way—y-your clothes, I mean,” embarrassment takes over as you trip over your own words. “The gold embroidery is um *cough * it’s nice.” 

Astarion seems amused at your inability to grasp basic English as he chuckles, the sound deep and almost musical. “Why thank you, darling. I’m glad someone around here appreciates the finer details.” 

The vampire kneels next to you and threads the needle before gesturing for you to hold out your hand. “It has been a while so... let’s just hope I’m not too rusty, hm?” 

Those words don’t instil a great deal of confidence within you, but you won’t allow it to show, trusting in him to get the job done. If you ended up getting sepsis, well... Withers was always on stand-by. 

“Now, hold still,” Astarion instructed. “This may sting a little.” 

You nodded, only wincing a little when he made the first stitch, the pain became more bearable as you watched him focus with the kind of laser-like precision that only came with a practiced hand; it made you wonder how many times he had done this. His methodical movements almost lulled you into a sort of relaxed trance, had your mind have not been working overtime, you honestly might have fallen asleep: Gods know you could have done with a bit of shut eye. 

Ever since the ship crashed, your problems just seemed to keep piling on top of each other: Lae’zel was hellbent on getting to that githyanki creche, and there was the matter of Karlach’s engine, Gale was close to blowing to kingdom-come if he didn’t get another magical item to consume soon, Astarion would probably need another feeding at some point, not to mention the dog, Scratch, and the owlbear cub who had started hanging around the camp. A dog was one thing but how much did owlbears need to eat?  

It was fine, you reassured yourself. Everything would be fine. 

“There we go,” Astarion said, relinquishing your hand back, freshly stitched and cleaned. The pain was still there, dull and throbbing, but it wasn’t anything a quick healing spell couldn’t fix. 

“Not my best work but it will just have to do for now,” he huffs, as if he was annoyed with himself. “You’ll have to excuse the sloppy stitching, it’s... been a while.” 

“It’s beautiful work,” you can’t help but admire the stitching; it was flawless. “Thank you, Astarion.” 

His gaze remains on you for a moment, as if he were expecting some sort of quip or punchline, and his eyes widen slightly when he realises you’re being genuine. 

“I... uh... you...?” He pauses and squints; still nothing. “You are... most certainly welcome.” 

You raise an eyebrow; did he really think so lowly of you that he believed you simply weren’t capable of a simple 'thank you'? Or was it himself that he had no confidence in? Your thoughts turn to when you asked him about how he came about becoming a vampire. Astarion kept most of his history closed off from you but told you just enough to let you know that this ‘Cazador’ fellow had treated him poorly. Belittled him. Enslaved him. 

You couldn’t begin to imagine how horrible it must have been; no wonder he didn’t trust anyone. 

A part of you wanted to pry into his thoughts, to let him know that you were here for him should he ever want to talk, but a new figure entered the tent, startling you into closing your mouth. 

“Hello!” Gale cheerily greeted with a smile, his eyes latching onto you immediately. “How are we feeling?” 

“Oh, we’re feeling quite dandy, thank you,” Astarion interjected with a frown. “You didn’t think to knock before deciding just to barge in?” 

“Well, given the materialistic structure of this very sound establishment, I think you’ll find it’s a little difficult to uh...” Gale trailed off, attempting to rap the tent flap to no avail. “...knock on.” 

“Then why not just knock on the wooden beams with that...” The vampire waved lazily towards Gale’s staff. “Very large stick of yours.” 

“Duly noted, but I think we’re getting a bit off track here,” the wizard said before turning to you. “I need a word.” 

You were taken aback slightly by his bluntness, and you couldn’t help but notice the almost pained way he was wringing his hands and how his eyebrows subtly twitched. He looked incredibly... uncomfortable. 

His hand hovered over his chest briefly, just above the mark that glowed whenever he consumed magic. 

Shit. Was it that time already? But hadn’t you given him something only yesterday? Or had it been a few days now? With recent events, it was hard to keep track of the time anymore; day and night just meshed into one big messy blur. 

Judging by your panicked look, Gale held up his hands in a placating manner. “Now, I know you’ve had a lot on your plate recently but this little uh... situation of mine is growing quite dire again so... if you could just relinquish whatever magical artefact you have, then all will be fine and dandy.” 

“I... don’t have anything on me at the moment.” 

Gale’s expression dropped. “Come now, you must have picked up something along the way, surely?” 

You grimaced. 

“In a dungeon? Along the road? What about that little goblin camp you rampaged through recently?” 

His sudden passive-aggressiveness made you feel uneasy. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Astarion cut in, folding his arms. “But we were a bit preoccupied with fighting for our lives to be on the lookout for any magic boots for you to chew on.” 

Gale chuckled dryly and drew the vampire a dirty look. “I don’t think you quite understand the gravity of what might very well happen if I don’t find something to contain the beast within me very soon- “ 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, darling.” 

“This isn’t a joking matter!” 

“Ugh! Just shut up!” You snapped. “I do get it, Gale. Because you remind me Every. Damn. Day. About this big, scary, mystery catastrophe that might happen without actually explaining anything about it! A bit of context would go a long way!” 

Gale’s hurt wince suddenly had your stomach churning in guilt; you shouldn’t be snapping at people; you were better than that. 

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologised. “As soon as we’re out on the road again, I’ll make it our priority to look for an artefact for you, alright? You have my word.” 

Astarion scowled and Gale forced a smile; his lips too strained for it to be genuine. It seemed like you couldn’t please anyone today. 

“That’s all I can ask for, and I promise... all will be revealed soon, otherwise the tadpoles will be the least of our worries.” 

When Gale left, you plopped down to the ground and took ragged breaths to calm your nerves, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt as you nestled your injured hand in your lap. Had Gale only checked in on you so he could ask you for a magic item in return? Was he really that desperate? He must have been, seeing as you had completely forgotten about his predicament. 

What kind of leader were you? 

“You know, you can’t go making promises all willy-nilly like that,” Astarion said. “We have enough problems as it is without having to worry about...” 

His chastising faded into white noise as you grasped your head, the sting of your fingers curling and tugging through unkempt hair was just enough to distract from the pounding that came from within your brain. The ability to focus was suddenly lost to you as your heart raced, and dark emotions swirled within your chest like a wild tornado; it was tempting to let them sweep you away, to ride the waves into the unknown. To be anywhere but here without anyone depending on you for so, so much.  

“Hello?” Astarion drawled. “Are you even listening to- Darling...?” 

He moved closer to you; his steps measured and deliberate as he lowered himself down next to you, still allowing you enough space while being close enough to reach out a hand to your trembling shoulder, his touch cold yet oddly comforting. 

“Hey,” he spoke in a soothing, soft tone, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with unwavering support. “I’m right here with you, you’re safe, just breathe along with me, alright?” 

You nodded, albeit shakily, and tried to mirror his calm, measured breaths, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, attempting to regain control over your racing heart. 

Astarion’s voice never wavered as your frantic gasps slowly started to synchronise with his calm breathing. “I know things are tough right now, but these feelings will soon pass. You’re stronger than you think, darling.” 

He continued to gently rub your back, tracing comforting circles with his fingertips, a rhythm that matched the cadence of your breath. Your hands slowly unlatched from your hair as you felt Astarion’s reassuring presence and honeyed words grounding you. 

“There we go, you’re regaining control,” he encouraged softly. “Now, I’m going to get you a glass of water, will you be alright for a moment?” 

You nodded again, and with a quick squeeze of your shoulder, he left. As your panic attack started to ebb, your breathing evened and your heart slowed as you felt yourself returning to the present moment, the tension that had your body rigid starting to ease. 

Astarion was back by your side within moments, gently pushing a glass into your hand and helping you lift it to your lips for a small sip of water, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat. 

“How do you feel?” 

“I’m-” 

“And don’t you dare say ‘I’m fine’,” he scowled. "Because we both know you’re clearly not.” 

You racked your brain to try and find a way to explain that you were okay and that this was just a small moment of weakness, a blip in the road, that there was nothing to worry about and you had it all figured out. 

But the words never came, instead you draw your knees up and hug them close to your chest as if to hide away from his piercing gaze. 

Astarion lingers by your side for a moment, his expression unreadable. 

“Would you like to stay in here for a while?” 

Unable to find the energy to speak, you simply nod. 

“Then come on, scooch over.” 

As you shuffle slightly to the side, Astarion sits down next to you, draping an arm over your shoulder and allowing you to settle your head into his side and cling to his shirt in a way that a child might cling to their mother. 

“...I’m sorry." 

From the corner of your eye, you could see Astarion’s expression soften as he waved a nonchalant hand. “Oh, you have nothing to be sorry for, dear. If anything, I should be the one apologising, who knew being in my mere presence would be so breathtaking?” 

You managed a small chuckle at that. 

“But in all seriousness,” he continued. “I know a thing or two about putting on a façade and... well...,” he paused. “Just... know that if you ever want to talk, I’m all pointy ears.” 

You hum in acknowledgement, though you can tell by his undertone that he’s being disingenuous, kindness wasn’t exactly his forte after all, but you appreciated the attempt all the same. But you were just content to sit in his arms for a while, and he seemed pleased enough with the silence. So, for now, you inhale the comforting aroma of bergamot, rosemary and brandy, letting yourself get lost in his comforting presence. 

And exhale. 

xxx

Hellooooo Baldur's Gate 3 has me in a chokehold and the brainrot is real. I'm only in Act 1 hence why this fic takes place so early in the game but this idea wouldn't leave me alone so here we are. Apologies for any inconsistencies :'3 Let me know what y'all think!

*Edit - since this has been pretty well received, I've opened up requests! Pop me an ask if you would like one :)

[cactusnymph]

kiss 41 shadowheart/lae'zel please :o)

Shadowheart wishes that she could control her dreams. If she were able to Lae'zel would certainly feature in none of them—except maybe in those where Shadowheart gets to kick her ass. Sadly those dreams never seem to visit her in her sleep. Instead Shadowheart finds herself betrayed by her own subconscious as it keeps dragging the memory of Lae'zel kissing her to the surface.

That forked tongue in her mouth shouldn't make her feel as excited as it does and it definitely shouldn't keep invading her sleep—Lae'zel pressed up against her, her long tongue in Shadowheart's mouth, licking the side of her throat, wandering lower.

If anyone told her at the beginning of this insane journey that she would have wet dreams about Lae'zel she would have laughed and left. Now she finds herself with soaked underwear in the morning and a burning anger and shame in her guts whenever it happens.

The bandage around her palm is still there and Shadowheart should probably have ripped it off by now. Instead her fingers keep touching it, pressing against the rough fabric, feeling the seams of the wrapping that has gotten more skillful over the past few days since Shadowheart started teaching Lae'zel first aid—or, how Lae'zel keeps referring to it: Patchwork.

Shadowheart can tell that the others are eyeing this new development between the two of them wide-eyed (Gale), disbelieving (Wyll) and amused (Karlach). Teaching a githyanki warrior about medicine and how to close a wound instead of cutting into it deeper is a surreal experience. But Lae'zel seems determined so Shadowheart refuses to be left behind.

In the next dream Lae'zel is on top of her completely naked, pinning her to the ground with a knife against Shadowheart's throat. There's something to be said about the state of her mind and specifically her subconscious that this is something that gets her going. But right now everything is hazy and hot and there's that forked tongue right next to the knife's edge and—

When she wakes up the knife is still there and so is Lae'zel—although in the real version of it all there is no tongue at her throat and Lae'zel is fully dressed.

Lae'zel sneers down at her.

"You've been feverish and making pained sounds in your sleep. If you're turning into a ghaik I'll give you a quick death", Lae'zel hisses and the blade presses against Shadowheart's skin like a promise. Despite the seriousness of the situation she almost has to laugh. Maybe there should be fear lingering underneath all of it, but all Shadowheart can really focus is on the cold steel on her skin, the weight on top of her and the heat between her legs.

Great.

"I'm not turning into anything, you absolute lunatic", she hisses back, heat rising into her cheeks as she tries to struggle against the iron clad grip of Lae'zel's hand.

"There is sweat on your brow", Lae'zel prompts. Shadowheart thinks that Lae'zel must be the stupidest person she's ever met.

"So what? You never sweat in your sleep? Are gith above sweating now?"

She could swear that Lae'zel is inhaling. Shadowheart thinks that maybe she has to ask Karlach to hit her really hard with a hammer so she can stop being insane about damned Lae'zel.

"Then what of the noises?", Lae'zel asks and she leans even further down as if she's trying to find a Mindflayer staring back at her from the depths of Shadowheart's eyes. Shadowheart is mortified enough about having been found out while having a wet dream about Lae'zel of all people, but the fact that Lae'zel makes into so big a thing is really starting to annoy her. Why can't Lae'zel mind her own damn business?

"My noises are none of your concern", Shadowheart presses and struggles again. Lae'zel's pupils widen.

"They are when you keep me from sleeping."

"I didn't think a small whimper could disturb you this much."

"It does when it's coming from you. You are the most—"

Shadowheart doesn't allow Lae'zel to finish. She surges upwards and presses her lips against Lae'zel's, causing the knife to dig deeper into her skin. The second their mouths collide, Lae'zel drops the knife and then they're kissing again.

Gods, it's so much better than it's been in any of her dreams. Lae'zel's tongue slides into her mouth and Shadowheart opens up willingly, wrapping her legs around Lae'zel's waist to pull her down. Lae'zel's breath is coming in short pants and Shadowheart is pleased to know that she's just as affected by all of this.

"So my noises keep you from sleeping?", Shadowheart pants into the kiss. Lae'zel snarls.

"Shut your mouth."

"Why don't you make me shut it?"

"Guys, please. Please find a tent", Gale's tired and strangled voice comes from his bedroll and Shadowheart can feel Lae'zel tense and pull back and before Shadowheart can say anything Lae'zel is gone.

[itsclydebitches]

The Ring

Summary: Omeluum gifted them one ring of protection... and seven people need it. Pairing: Gen, but there's Tav/Astarion if you really squint Word Count: 1,491 Part of the Little by Little, Step by Step collection

“So,” Karlach said, knocking her boots together. “Who gets to wear it?”

Everyone sat in a circle around the fire, staring at the ring Tav had set delicately on a pillow. It was an ordinary trinket by all appearances. Brass. Small, emerald insets. Yet they could feel the Weave pouring off of it—wave after wave of tingling energy that set their teeth on edge and left a chill sinking into the back of their neck.

Tav couldn’t be sure if they had an innate aversion to the ring simply by virtue of not practicing magic themselves... or if that feeling stemmed from the parasite lodged in their brain. They suspected the latter if the others’ expressions were anything to go on.

Halsin coughed. “I really have no say in the matter...”

“Don’t you?” Wyll lifted his head so that the fire left warm shadows across his cheeks and sparks settled on his horns. “You are a member of this party, are you not? You may not be infected, Halsin, but you reap the benefits of our triumphs; you suffer the consequences of our mistakes. You have as much right to help us decide this as anyone else.”

Lae’zel released a low growl in the back of her throat. “What is there to decide? The ring goes to our leader.” She stuck her nose in the air, a gesture which Tav had learned wasn’t a haughty expression, but one of respect for the Githyanki. “You demanded the right to be cleansed first and instead suffered a psionic attack within the zaith’isk. You drank the Mind Flayer’s toxic brew and came out the other side alive, but with your parasite stronger than ever. You alone have the honor of receiving that which might cure us—or destroy us.”

Well, that was certainly one way of putting it. “Thank you?”

“You are welcome.”

“Yes, just take the thing, darling.” Astarion waved a languid hand towards the ring. “The Gods know I don’t want it. A bauble that interferes with the influence and powers of the tadpole? No, no, no. You won’t catch this vampire handing over any weapon in his arsenal.”

“It is not a knife,” Shadowheart hissed. “It is not a sword, or a spell, or anything else we can wield with confidence. You think of the parasite as a key but it is truly the shackles that bind us!”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed. He smiled, but there was nothing there except the glint of a fang. “Do not talk to me about shackles, little girl.”

Tav saw Shadowheart’s dominant hand twitch and instinctively threw out an arm between them. They’d learned the hard way that Shadowheart could be goaded into a fight with almost no provocation and she wasn’t above cheating to win. Clashing that against Astarion’s own dirty style and supernatural advantage was a recipe for disaster. “You can have it then,” they said, noting that the others had begun preparations for an intervention as well. Tav re-directed their barrier hand to nudge the ring towards Shadowheart.

All at once the fury on her face melted away.

“Ah... no. No thank you, I suppose. It’s just... well. I’ve already lost so many of my memories. I don’t relish the idea of putting another barrier around my mind. Even one that Lady Shar would approve of.”

Astarion let out a dismissive scoff.

Determinedly ignoring him, Tav let their gaze drift to Karlach. She immediately threw up her hands.

“No way, soldier. There are three things I never touch: cursed books, watered-down beer, and Mind Flayer rings dosed with enough magic to give you a headache.”

Oh, Tav had a headache all right, but it had more to do with this conversation than the ring. They cut their gaze to Wyll.

To his credit, he seemed to give the offer some thought. “I stand by what I said before,” he finally said, nodding towards Halsin. “What we do we do as a group. We share the wealth we accumulate, the armor collected, the reputation earned—and any chance at salvation most of all. It does not sit right with me that only one of us should be protected.”

Astarion scoffed again. “Seriously? If we can’t all survive we should just die together? What sentimental rubbish.”

“So I take it you’d like the ring?”

“No. I just need you to understand what an idiot you are.”

Tav resisted the urge to rub their eyes. “Astarion, play nice or I’m not feeding you tonight.” Ignoring his head whipping around in shock they nudged Gale’s knee with their own. “Any chance we can... duplicate it? Or divvy up the magic somehow?”

Gale had been staring intently at the ring this whole time. Now he gave Tav a familiar look. It was his You Know Shit-All About the Weave and Are Embarrassing Yourself look.

“No,” he said shortly. Then he continued because Gale, by his own admission, had never been concise a day in his life. “If rings this powerful were easy to replicate don’t you think everyone would be doing so? Just imagine it. Instant protection! Instant profit! No, Omeluum was right when he said that this artifact is nearly priceless. Dividing the power? Well, then we’d have seven rings, each with a seventh of its former protection... and functionally useless. Even if such a thing were possible it wouldn’t benefit us. As for whether I myself would take it," Gale smiled sadly, gesturing to his chest. "A bit of a moot point, don't you think?"

Silence descended.

Astarion practically crawled over Lae’zel—eliciting another growl of disgust—and squeezed himself between them, swinging an arm over Tav’s shoulders. “I think what our dear leader meant,” he said, “is that not everyone has a Gale to do the duplicating and that this ring is clearly so powerful that perhaps splitting it would be negligible. Isn’t that right, darling? The boorish, downer wizard just didn't catch your brilliance.”

“Sure,” Tav drawled. “Also, your attempts to butter me up aren’t subtle.”

Halsin let out a sound suspiciously like a cut-off laugh.

“Whyever would I need to butter up so talented, intelligent, and gorgeous a specimen as yourself? On a completely separate note, I couldn’t help but hear the words ‘nearly priceless.’ If none of us will wear the damn thing, why not sell it?”

Wyll immediately shook his head. “And draw that much attention in the process? Not a wise decision, my friend. Besides, who do you propose we sell it to? No one we know would be able to afford it. A buyer might be found in Baldur’s Gate, but...” He spread his hands and as one the group let out a sigh. Yes, if they were in Baldur’s Gate many more problems than just a ring would have been solved already.

“Can't we just... give it back?” Karlach asked. “I felt kinda bad taking it in the first place.”

Astarion gasped. "Give it back?"

“I doubt Omeluum would accept it." Shadowheart worried at her bottom lip. "We traded for it fairly and though I know little of Mind Flayer honor—”

“They have none,” Lae’zel spit.

“—I would assume it wouldn't allow one to re-take what was given in good faith.”

Astarion swept out his arms, nearly whacking Gale in the face. “So let’s trade it back! I’m sure that tentacle-y scholar is loaded with interesting goodies. Oh yes, we could squeeze a fortune out of the squid."

Tav watched fondly (despite themselves) as Astarion seemed to sink back into the shadows after speaking, the move as thoughtless as it was effortless. It was a real shame they hadn’t had a chance to make use of his skills lately.

A real shame he’d been pissing them off too.

“I have a better idea,” they said sweetly.

***

Omeluum paused in the act of casting. Something was... different about the Weave around it. It didn’t take long to pinpoint the source and Omeluum lifted a familiar ring from the folds of its robs.

“Fascinating,” it murmured.

Blurg hustled over at the word, like a bloodhound on the scent of intellectual discovery. “What is—oh. Didn’t you give that to our mutual friends?”

“Indeed.” In fact, it had seen the band of adventurers just fifteen minutes before. They had been purchasing supplies from Blurg before seeking the duergar across the lake. The invaders’ defeat was a perilous task they had agreed to undertake and Omeluum had noted, in a detached way, that they seemed to be missing their vampire. Surely they would need him to return victorious.

Evidence. Hypothesis. Proposed conclusion: the vampire had indeed been among them, performing an action quite contrary to its nature.

“I believe,” Omeluum said, holding the ring up to one of the crystal’s light, “that I have been given a gift.”

Blurg smiled up at it as Omeluum slipped its ring back onto its chain. As the familiar weight of magic settled around it, it felt a stirring of... something, deep within it.

An emotion, it thought, though not one it had any name for yet. It was warm, and heavy—like a well-made bedroll—and it was, unfortunately, quite distracting.

This required further study then. Clearly. Omeluum only hoped it met the adventurers again soon so that it could continue such interesting research.

[cassiefromhell]

Astarion Rewrites 01 - "The Meeting"

Series Summary: This is a new series, in which I rewrite classic Astarion scenes in short bursts (like when tav meets him, tav discovers he's a vampire, those key moments) because I need more chaos in my Astarion experience. So I'm writing it. If you have a particular moment you want to be written, comment or request it! I'm gonna try to write a gn!tav, but it might lean a little towards fem.

a/n: brainrot brainrot brainrot brainrot brainrot brainrot brainrot i just need chaotic tav

warnings: mention of violence, slight lae'zel slander. if he's ooc im sorry T-T

“Oh dear lord,” you grumble, tugging on Shadowheart’s arm. “Look. See that man? I’d bet you anything he was on the ship,” you whisper, pointing at a white-haired, pale elf. He’s glancing around nervously, and then he spots you, and you flinch. 

“Ah, shit,” Shadowheart mumbles, but begrudgingly follows you forward as you approach.

“Hurry! I’ve got one of those brain things caught!” The man hisses, gesturing towards the bushes. “There, in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you?”

You give him a once-over. And again. He’s too pretty to let die, but there’s something about his demeanor that’s got you narrowing your eyes at him. You’ve had too many fast ones pulled on you in Baldur’s Gate to fall for this one.

You put on your best heroic smile. “Of course, sir. But I’m afraid I dropped my weapon a bit back— could you lend me yours?”

He shakes his head. “What? No, I don’t have a weapon. Why do you think I’m asking you to kill it? Quick, before it gets away!”

“No, silly, I mean the weapon you meant to hold against my throat. Perhaps a dagger, or a shortsword?” your smile broadens, and you wiggle your fingers. “C’mon, I know a good ol’ Baldurian heist when I see one. Give me your weapon, and I’ll take a looksies at your runaway brain problem.”

He blinks. And then blinks again. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Oh,” you laugh, pulling out your own dagger and twirling it around your finger. “This is cute. You’re cute, really. And you’re a good liar, I’ll give you that. Just… not good enough to pass by me.”

From behind you, Shadowheart gives a low whistle. 

The white-haired elf narrows his eyes, and then smirks — recognizing that he’s met his match, no doubt. He holds out a hand. 

“Astarion. And you are?”

You give him your name, shaking his hand.

“I saw you on that ship, didn’t I?” Astarion asks, glancing between you and Shadowheart. “Both of you. And some… green creature.”

“I do have a rather memorable face, hm? I’m sure you did see us— and that green creature is a cranky githyanki named Lae’zel,” you pause, considering that for a moment. “We’re not… actually sure where she went,” glancing to Shadowheart, you rub the back of your neck.

“How curious,” Astarion’s eyes rake over you.

“Well,” you turn on your heel, marching towards the wrecked ship. “Let’s go try to track down Lae’zel.”

Shadowheart shrugs and follows you, but Astarion stays behind.

You pause, looking over your shoulder at the pale elf. “You coming?”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times before speaking. “Why would I be following you?”

“You mean you don’t want to join us? I thought that’s where this was headed; you talk to us, we do introductions, you become our newest travel companion… would you rather be left out here alone? With the brain things?”

“Well, no, of course not.”

“Then come on.”

You continue walking, and this time, Astarion follows close behind.

[vale-writes]

smutty lae’zel thoughts…

it’s canon that sex with lae’zel is.. rough, to put it lightly, so i think having sex is less lovemaking and more fist fight. knowing that battle and seeing you after one turns her on was giving me Ideas that i just had to get out. also i’m assuming githyanki have human enough anatomy for this to work.

tags: gender-neutral reader, reader has a penis/strap, reader penetrates lae’zel, blade play if you squint, oral, kinda rough sex, unprotected sex, switching dom/sub

lae’zel would never let you dom without a fight. victory over you was always sweet, but there was something that burned hot inside her stomach when you had her pinned with a knife to her throat. even if she won your spars (which was often), seeing the sweat drip down your face and hearing your grunts of effort with every clang of steel made her legs tremble. it wasn’t weakness. it was an itch. a need to pounce on you and ride, taking everything and then some.

“best me in combat and i will let you dominate.”

“we just got out of battle, darling. i desire you, but can’t we skip the whole fighting thi-“

a swift kick to your gut and a leg swung behind your ankles sent you straight into the dirt. a wheeze ripped through your lungs as the weight of your “hot githyanki girlfriend” lae’zel straddling you hit you in your stomach. you couldn’t even open your mouth to say you weren’t ready for her to hit you before you felt her blade at your throat.

“chk. you are making this too easy. there is no pleasure in dominating you if you simply roll over. challenge me.”

her eyes flicked over your face for a moment before her gaze softened. lae’zel’s cold steel left your throat as she asked, “unless.. you are not wanting of this? is that what you meant to say? you said you desired me but i suppose i acted too hast-“

it was her turn to get cut off now. you kicked your left leg into her right, flipping her over and landing on top of her, between her legs. she let out an almost imperceptible gasp before reaching for her sword, which you quickly snatched and threw out of her reach. she snarled and began to get up before you grabbed her by the wrists and pinned her back down.

“and i’m the one making this too easy?”

“silence. you tricked me, using my respect for you against me,” she hissed.

“a warrior should have a mind sharper than their sword, love.”

“i said silence.”

with your groin right up against hers, you could feel the heat of her arousal through your trousers. why did gith armor barely cover up those areas? you gritted your teeth and ground into her, letting out a hiss of pleasure when she wrapped her legs around your hips and pulled you in. your lips locked with hers, tongues thrashing in each other’s mouths while you both rocked your hips together like animals.

“take this burdensome armor off already,” she commanded while unbuckling her own. you flipped her over onto her stomach suddenly, raising her hips up to meet yours and continuing to grind.

“why? i can do everything i want with it on,” you flipped the leather tassels up, exposing her barely clothed cunt to you. “and i’d be lying if i said these leather straps on your skin weren’t.. enticing.” your finger traced along said straps that crisscrossed over her inner thighs, making her shiver. she went to snatch your hand away from it, only to get her wrists pinned to the small of her back. you placed your other hand onto her pussy, slowly grinding the heel of your palm into it. leaning over, you licked a stripe up the back of her neck, tasting the saltiness of her sweat. her hips rocked against your hand and she let out a few quiet, pleasured grunts.

“you’re making this too easy, lae’zel,” you murmured in her ear. “i don’t think you really wanted a challenge at all. you want to just give in now?”

you could see her bite her lip in frustration on the ground. you slipped your hand into her underwear and slowly ran your finger along her hole. she let out a quick gasp and tightened her hands into fists.

“yes or no, darling?”

“chk! fine. i will allow you to have your way. but waver for a moment and you’ll find yourself below me.”

you bit back a “wasn’t so hard, was it?” knowing that would only set her ablaze again and prolong your “fight.” you slowly pushed a finger in and tried to stop your grin when you felt how wet she was.

“i can feel you smirking. you know that your fighting excites me. i feel no shame in this.”

you dug your other hand into her hip as you pushed another finger in. she let out a loud, unabashed moan at that. her hips rocked against your hand as you pushed it in and out of her, her wetness getting all over your palm. gods, if the rest of the party knew that you had lae’zel of creche k’liir pinned and moaning like this..

you moved your hand on her hip to her clit and admired the crescents left on her hip from your vice grip. she always told you not to go easy on her. you pushed a third finger in and her legs started to shake. you rubbed lazy circles on her clit before replacing that hand with your tongue. gods, her moans. she never lae’zel never held back when you were rough with her. her knees started to buckle but you simply grabbed her by the hair to keep her up.

“enough,” she said through a whine. “put yourself inside of me. now.”

you decided to push your luck. “say please.”

you shouldn’t have pushed your luck. she let out a growl and swung one of her legs around, landing in your lap once again. she attacked your neck with her lips, biting and sucking on your skin between her sharp teeth. you inhaled sharply from the shock and pain, but could do nothing as she pinned your arms down.

“if you won’t listen to me, i’ll do it myself.”

she tore your pants off and ripped the armor off in the blink of an eye. she took your cock and pushed it in, sitting firmly in your lap as you squirmed in pleasure.

“stay put,” she snarled. you nodded, unable to speak from the sudden pleasure. lae’zel started riding you while keeping your arms down. her golden eyes burned into your own, her slitted pupils blown wide in lust. she enveloped you so well. she was tall and deceptively thin, but she was pure muscle. seeing her like this reminded you of just how easily she could take you whenever she wanted. you tried to ignore how much more that turned you on.

she panted in your ear and sped up while grinding herself onto you whenever she snapped her hips back down.

“start bucking your hips into me,” she commanded. you were happy to obey. you pushed deeper inside of her and she tightened and whined in your ear. she bit down on your shoulder. you could feel her moans vibrate through your chest, her song of pleasure moving through you. you were close too, and trying desperately not to cum before her.

“finish with me.”

you nodded and bucked up further into her. her head fell back with one last sensual cry before she came around you. you gripped her hips and pushed up into her before cumming yourself.

you both panted for a while. she let herself lean forward and rest her head on your bitten shoulder. she traced her fingers along the marks she left behind on you. a reminder that you were hers. githyanki didn’t do love. she knew you could never really be hers. not while she served her queen. but maybe, just until the bruises faded and the cuts healed, she could have one teeny, tiny, little love.

[newtabfics]

I Didn't Mean To Drop A Building On You. Tav x Astarion Drabble

So, it was definitely me during this scene, just so you know. I was like OH NO I FUCKED UP I FUCKED UP cuz I happened to be out of revives.

Spoilers for BG3.

Btw, this is my Tav :D She's a half-wood-elf ranger! This photo is uh...pre-Volo surgery.

"Tav, breathe," Shadowheart said gently as she shakily handed over the gold to the Wither.

"Give her a break," Karlach muttered softly. "It's not easy losing your first soldier. Should be lucky this dried up jerky is helping us. Ah, no offense."

The Wither simply shook its head with a smile on his face as he worked. With a bright glow, Astarion suddenly stood before everyone, gasping and patting at his chest.

"Alive, alive!" He muttered before locking onto Tav. "What in the sweet hells were you thinking, activating that lance? I was right there!" He stomped his foot almost childishly as he straightened. "Gods, do you have any idea how much that hurt?"

Tav's eyes watered as she smiled shakily, relief flooding through her. "I'm sorry," she croaked. "I'll be more careful next time."

Even Lae'zel flinched (if you count narrowing her eyes as flinching) when Astarion snapped on her, "Next time? No, no, no. If there is a 'next time', I'll be the one activating the all-powerful weapon, thank you"

He huffed and shifted as he tugged on his gloves. "Although, I do appreciate you trying to fix your mistake. Just don't do it again." He smiled tightly at her, almost relishing in the whimpering she let out. "Now, shall we go? Or do you have any other chaos you wish to unleash here?"

"Knock it off!" Karlach snapped, approaching and giving him a shove.

Astarion hissed softly at the heat from her palm, glaring at her. 

"She gets it," She snapped, looking at the small half-wood elf. 

The vampire studied her. In the corner of his eye, he saw the mace of the hour scattered near the bedrolls. Everyone was still in full gear, most were looking towards her with worry. Even the Githyanki stayed nearby. 

"She knows she messed up. Just let her hug you now," Gale said, smirking at the vampire.

He let out a huff. "Oh fine. Whatever. Get over–Oof!" He grunted when her body slammed into his chest, hugging tightly.

"Cute," Wyll chuckled as everyone eased up, returning to their tents.

Astarion swore he felt his dead heart flutter as she held him tight. It was as though she were afraid of letting go. This couldn't have been because–

No. He refused to let himself think it was because of the intimacy they shared once. She's just always been a kind and gentle soul. Fitting of a ranger living as an outlander. 

He tried to shove off her arms after a moment, grimacing when they refused to budge. "Release me, you vice," he hissed out.

"Five more minutes," She mumbled into his chest.

It was then he realized he smelt her tears, not the distant sea. She was crying for him. He sighed and bent, lifting her up, almost as though he were carrying a princess. Her grip quickly readjusted and he caught a glimpse of her panicked expression before it hid against his shoulder, refusing to give up the warmth of him.

"Let's at least go to my tent then, Darling."

"Sooo cute," Karlach cooed as he walked off with her.

"Fuck you," He shot back with a smile.

[faerunsbest]

ma'nas family is cold and loving

very similar and entirely different from githyanki

they devote themselves to family not out of any sense of supremacy but because they have no one else.

the day would come when Ma'na must confess to her mother that she cant go home

her mother with skin as dark as plums an eyes like glowing evergreens. she is violent and viscous and unrelenting.

and one day ma'na would fail, fall down low, desperate to defend rolan and his marvelous strange family.

Ma'na would call out a spell that opens a door and out steps her mother,followed by siblings cold and outraged that they'd been left behind and without warning they overtake the field and most ruefully the battle would end.

Rolan would have to9 look up and see ma'na sobbing on her hands and knees before her mother begging to be permitted to stay behind to finish her mission.

to save her friends herself and most importantly her love. rolan has to listen while she cries out to someone hes never seen with a face not unlike cold steel that she loves him. That hes worth her love.

He has to listen to the snap of skin across skin when ma'na is scolded for leaving her family behind. he has to listen to her shriek that he worth her heart. and cold as she is this cold unrelenting woman knows that feeling and says so low only a breeze could carry that tone to rolans ears.

"blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, bone of my being and heart of my Would how say you that you love him? he that crumbled under fire, he that failed under pressure... how could you love him?"

"am'ma, all that i am- i would give. Am'ma... his every breath commands my heart to beat. He is fire and my soul is steel as you have made it- my love it gives my form and purpose. am'ma, please. i love him."

"daughter mine, you would devote yourself to the weakness of his flesh?"

"am'ma i have seen what love is. it is fiery iron as you are for ap'pa and i beg you you- i beg you let me know this. let me know this for him- i would give it all for him, every drop in my veins, every fiber of my being. i give it to him."

now imagine after hearing all this, for this woman to come come to rolan and grip him by his face, to pull his weakened body up to eye level.

"you, you that could do now more than feed worms. what say you? Would you make yourself worthy of my daughter?"

And theres rolan a sagging heap in her grip, looking at this woman, suddenly ma'na makes so much sense to him and fool that he is, he speak honestly.

"is that not every mans purpose? to be worthy of his love?"

The woman, ma'nas mother looses her grip and lets him crumple to the ground. she goes back to her still kneeling child.

"dear daughter, you say i have shown you glory. Be as i have made you."

magic unfurls with a hiss and a snap and the woman is gone. they are left to sit in the wake of their confession. Rolan and ma'na have clarified their devotion before a witness and now, they are left to each other.

[commander-diomika]

Fandom - Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing - Lae'zel/Shadowheart Words - 660 Tags - kinktober, baldur's gate kinktober, hate sex, object insertion, scratching, blood (but just a little bit) Summary:

Irresponsible use of weaponry whilst trying not to let any of the other peacefully sleeping party members hear them.

Notes:

Sometimes you don't write anything for two years then a friend reminds you it's Kinktober on this, the day that the prompt is hate sex and you've just played the scene where your favourite girls try to kill each other. Sometimes it's fate. This is not me committing to Kinktober but I will hopefully get a few more in when they catch my eye!

Shadowheart glanced down at the bright red claw marks, fresh and vivid across the swell of her breast. Neat lines marched across her nipple, now welling with blood. She flicked her eyes back to her own hands splayed on the rough wood of the barn wall.

The soft suede of her shirt was rumpled, yanked aside messily for her scratched breast to be freed, and she burned, a flush escaping her face and down the pale skin of her décolletage.

“Do you want it?” rasped a voice, close, too close, into her ear.

“Hurry up and do it already.” Urgent, quiet. The last thing she wanted was to raise anyone down at the fire and have them see her torn apart and unraveled with the githyanki at her back

Lae’zel’s only response was a short catch in her throat. Laughter, maybe, or a growl that didn’t quite bloom into full throatiness.

Rough hands yanked at Shadowheart’s trousers, unbothered by the soft snap of a seam wrenched past breaking point, pushing them down around her ankles. Legs, trapped, though with just enough space between them for a rough knee to intrude, shoving the thighs apart.

Shadowheart didn’t resist. She didn’t even turn her head. A hot, sick lump rose in her throat as something cool touched her inner thigh.

“Fuck you, gith.” The words hissed past her lips as she realised it was not clawed fingers teasing through her slit, but something hard and cool.

This time the laughter did blossom from Lae’zel’s throat in a bloom of steel and velvet.

Shadowheart gasped as the sword pommel teased at the slick rim of her entrance. For all the disdain in Lae’zels laugh, she had put aside her roughness. Instead she enacted a different cruelty, letting the rounded bauble of steel encroach and retreat, without fully breaching the warmth there. Shadowheart pulsed, feeling herself twitch against the rapidly-warming metal.

Her feet slid in the dirt, as though trying to drop her hips down.

“Stop that-“ and Lae’zel spat something guttural in her native tongue that was clearly not a term of endearment. “You do not take from me. You do not decide when or how I take from you.”

The low words were accompanied by clawed hand gripping the meat of her ass, both holding her in place and-

Shadowheart swallowed as a sharp fingers slipped past the underside of her buttock, hooking into one sensitive lip and opening her cunt for Lae’zel to-

“Hnnghk!” She nearly nearly took off a chunk of her lip, biting back the cry as the round pommel, slightly too wide, slightly too much, popped though and inside her.

Knees wobbled, trying to give way, but that wretched hand now clamped into the soft flesh of her ass, holding her in place.

A curious, if maybe even approving “chk” sounded from behind her. She felt her lips stutter along the leather grip as Lae’zel pushed, the shortsword hilt nothing compared to the girth of the pommel, the leather too dry and rough.

Shadowheart had been keeping her hands splayed, elbows locked, but without a thought crossing the starry sky of her mind, her arms folded. Her upper body flowed forward and she muffled the sound of her cry into her forearms.

Lae’zel levered the hilt, just a touch, the pommel now flesh-warm but broad inside her, invasive and hot, pressing forward enough for Shadowheart to feel that sickening jolt through her again, shame swirling, breath catching, low moan in her throat escaping past any defences and oh god- if anyone saw her like this-

“Good.” Lae’zel muttered. “Now just grateful that this is the end of my blade that you receive, hmm?” The cup of her fist, firm around the haft, met Shadowheart’s lips as she pushed the sword hilt, deeper this time, as deep as it would go.

Shadowheart nodded, the motion shaking loose a bead of sweat from her brow, mocking the cool night air.

[blackjackkent]

Like so many others before him, W'wargaz and all his training is still nothing before the dark urge. Rakha gives herself up to the anger that has been bubbling within her ever since they entered the creche, ever since the zaith'isk's cleansing turned out to be a convenient lie. She destroys the githyanki inquisitor and leaves him a smoking heap on the floor.

We will leave this place now. Halsin was right after all. We will traverse the Underdark and go to Moonrise Towers. We will find the heart of the cult and we will tear a cure out of their skulls.

But before she can speak - before she can even clear her mind of the slowly fading bloodlust... a new voice speaks, from the empty plinth that stands in the center of the room.

"Inquisitor W'wargaz was potent," it intones - a deep contralto, booming like thunder. "We are impressed."

The room flares suddenly with intense light like a supernova, then slowly coalesces into the enormous image of a githyanki woman clothed in armor and a silver crown. Her face is pale and alien and Rakha recognizes it - the image from the painting outside the ghustil's chambers.

Vlaakith.

Lae'zel's eyes go wide. Her sword falls to her side and she drops to her knees, trembling. "My Queen..." she whispers shakily. "Shkath zai!"

"You are permitted to look upon me," the githyanki queen says coldly. Her eyes narrow at Rakha. "You are invited to kneel."

"The Deathless Queen has spoken," Lae'zel hisses. "You will obey."

Rakha does not move, but stares up at the god-queen's image appraisingly. Once again, she finds herself wondering about the past that she has no memory of. Was there once a god she looked at with such reverence? A force for whom she would have fallen on her knees as Lae'zel does?

She finds it hard to fathom. This goddess speaks with a voice that can be heard, a face that can be seen. Rakha owes her no more respect than she owed the thunderous tones of the Absolute in her head.

After all, it was in Vlaakith's name that the ghustil almost killed Lae'zel - almost killed them all.

Stay standing, exactly as you are.

Vlaakith's image scowls. "I expected little of istik education," she snarls. "But here we kneel before our Queen!"

The image moves, shifting past Rakha and focusing on Lae'zel behind her. Vlaakith lowers herself slowly until her enormous face is directly in front of Lae'zel's.

"Your choice of allies is most vexing," she says. Her voice still booms like thunder, even though it is lowered. "They do not become you - Lae'zel."

Rakha can see Lae'zel's olive skin go pale. Her eyes, impossibly, seem to widen further.

"Ch'mar zal'a Vlaakith..." she whispers. Rakha has never heard her voice so shaky. "You know me."

(A/N: God, look at her FACE. Poor Lae'zel. :( :( :( She's so fucking young and is being faced with the upheaval of everything she's ever known and she already knows, deep down, where it's going... but Vlaakith herself is speaking to her and how can she not listen, even after everything...)

"Urlon of K'liir speaks most highly," Vlaakith says gravely. "As did Al'chaia before him." She draws back and looks the group over coldly. "You seek purity. I may yet grant it."

She turns her attention back to Rakha, who has not moved a muscle since the conversation began.

"Istik," she growls. "You bear that which is ours. But are you friend, or are you thief?"

The flat truth of the matter is that she is neither. She did not take the artifact from the githyanki - but nor is she a friend here. W'wargaz may be dead but the danger lingers.

Vlaakith is lying. I may yet grant purity, she says. But Lae'zel made it clear this was supposed to be a protocol, something granted by default. And who is to say Vlaakith's purity is any different from that the zaith'isk offered - an agonizing death?

"Neither," she says bluntly. "It is mine by rights." Not strictly true - but as true as Vlaakith's words, at least. More so, really, for the artifact returned to her deliberately, when she tried to give it away.

"No!" Vlaakith roars, straightening abruptly. The room's temperature seems to drop several degrees. "It is not yours. To own something is to know it! That weapon you carry - the Astral Prism - it is corrupted."

"I will cleanse it for you, my queen!" Lae'zel cries eagerly. "Tell me how!"

Vlaakith lifts a hand. Pale light sprouts between her fingers - an image of the Prism rotating slowly over her palm. "There is someone inside," she says. "Their mind is warped, broken - a blight. They are an agent of the Grand Design, sent to sabotage the Astral Prism - our last defense against the return of the Illithid Empire. As long as they live, the Prism is corrupted."

She snaps her palm closed around the image, shattering it apart. "KILL THEM!" she thunders. "Do this, and I will cleanse you and your allies. Do this - and ascend!"

Lae'zel has begun to tremble all over, the whites of her eyes showing on all sides. "Ascension?" she murmurs. "My queen... an honor gained, a burden borne..."

Then she hesitates. Her eyes flick to Rakha... and her gaze clears, just slightly. She remembers her words only a few minutes earlier. Your path is mine to follow...

"Choose," she says hoarsely. "But know this - the cost of refusal is great."

"Not merely great, Lae'zel," the goddess says icily. "Eternal."

Rakha says nothing for a long moment. It is difficult to parse out what is happening here, what bits of this are truth and which are falsehood.

Vlaakith is describing the guardian, certainly - but the guardian has shown no signs of corruption. The guardian has protected them. The guardian has calmed both the worm and the beast in Rakha's mind. Meanwhile, Vlaakith's people have tried to destroy them.

Frustratingly, she finds her concern keeps coming back to Lae'zel. She should be - she is - angry with the young githyanki for bringing them here in the first place. Why is she still concerned for Lae'zel's well-being?

It would be easier if she could simply turn the beast loose, carve their way out of this place and leave it behind. But she is still bound to Lae'zel, whether she likes it or not.

"I can't do that," she finally says slowly. "The person inside protects me from the Absolute."

"YOU ARE BEING LIED TO!" Vlaakith roars, seeming to swell to even greater size. "I WILL BE OBEYED!"

"Tsk'va!" Lae'zel cries out. "Do not defy my queen!"

And there's something new in her voice now. Not the eager obeisance, and not her normal cool confidence either. Something else.

Fear.

Lae'zel is terrified.

Again Rakha hesitates. Her fists curl at her sides. Her eyes flick to Wyll on her other side, uncertain, questioning. But he just shrugs. He doesn't know what to do either. They are trapped - as they have been from the moment they entered the creche.

Rakha draws a slow breath, lets it out between her teeth. Fine. "Yes," she says evenly. "I will enter the Prism and kill the occupant."

She has no such intention. But Lae'zel is on the edge of panic. And if they can enter the Prism, if they can speak to the guardian... she will have another moment of peace, of her mind clearing, another moment of safety, and perhaps the path will become clearer. Perhaps the guardian will know what to do...

Perhaps she will finally have answers, at this moment of crisis.

She can see Lae'zel relax slightly, and Vlaakith smiles harshly.

"Use the planecaster's power to enter the artifact," the queen instructs. "Be wary of the creature's lying tongue. Cut it out if you must. You will not leave this room until it is done."

"Ba na'zin," Lae'zel agrees. Her voice is suddenly tight with control again, her eyes narrowed. "Our each step with purpose. Vlaakith has spoken - do not leave this room except to enter the Prism. Turn your back on me, and you will feel my blade against it."

Rakha looks back at her steadily. You threaten me again. But do you mean it?

It is tempting to simply go, to find out for certain whether Lae'zel's words have bite as well as bark. But... no. They will enter the Prism. And one way or another... she will find the answers she needs, and then she will act.

[ellekhen]

Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 31 - Our Friend, the Ra'stil

Chapter Summary: Betrayed by their companion, Church, Astarion, and Shadowheart have no choice but to meet both the kith’rak of the crèche and the inquisitor himself — as well as another unexpected guest who bids them on an unexpected journey… with an impossible task.

Pairing(s): Astarion x Male Tav (Main); Past OC x Male Tav Rating: Explicit Length: 131K+ words; Chapters 31/54

Excerpt below:

“No,” Church says firmly aloud. “I won’t let you take it.”

Lae’zel glowers at him, grasping hold of his robes and yanking him close as she hisses into the tiefling’s ear. “I warned you. Do not try me. Hand over the artefact, or die by my hand.”

Church gazes back at her witheringly. “For fuck’s sake,” he thinks into her parasite. “I know that you know what you saw in the zaith’isk. No matter what your scriptures say, no matter what your jhe’stils told you to believe — trust in yourself. Believe in yourself, for once. Listen to your gut that I know tells you that these gith can’t be trusted.”

He sees the doubt flicker in her eyes and pushes forward. “…and trust me, too. I want all of us — including you — to get out of this safe.”

“Istik!” the inquisitor calls sharply. “My patience is wearing thin. Give me the weapon, or I will have your head.”

Church continues, eyes never leaving Lae’zel’s. “But we are all going to die unless you trust me to do what is right for us NOW.”

Lae’zel shudders, doubt clearing her widening eyes of their zealous wrath. “The zaith’isk…” she clenches her eyes shut, brows furrowed. “Tsk’va!” she snarls into his mind. “I hate that you speak the truth.”

Church smiles shakily at her as she releases his robes. “I think you like me a little for it.”  

Lae’zel glowers at him as she thinks, “Fine. Choose. Your path is mine to follow.”

“What’s going on?” Astarion barges in petulantly. “What are we doing?”

The warlock briefly straightens his robes, eyeing the impatient inquisitor.

“Get ready to attack,” Church replies to all of them. 

At the same time, his cold voice declares aloud before all the other githyanki —

“No. We are keeping the artefact.”

From within his mind, Church hears Lae’zel send up a prayer, “Our fate is forged. Mother Gith, guide us!”

Ch’r’ai W’wargaz smiles viciously, a manic light in his narrowed eyes. 

“What a pity — to come all this way, only for your illustrious adventure to end here! Hta’zith! ” he spits, signaling his detail. “ Crèche Y’llek! With me — to the death!”

Read from the beginning!

[delta-lethonomia]

WIP Wed-....Thursday

But his attention set upon her once more, locking eyes, and despite his calm facade, she knew that he was furious. “Lae’zel speaks to me of Vlaakith and calls her a god. I am Githyanki: should I not follow the lich-queen herself as Lae’zel suggests? As you suggest, Shadowheart? Her teachings are familiar, I read tir’su script like my mother tongue. Shall we find this crèche tomorrow and give them the artifact, all in service to a mild sense of familiarity, of belonging, as you would do once we reach Baldur’s Gate?” V’dek leaned close. His breath was startling against her face, his snakeskin eyes bright and luminous, his pupils nothing but thin slits in the dark. “Shall I treat you the way Githyanki treat pretty little istik?” he hissed, echoing in her ears.

poured another 2k words into this beast last night. I swear this oneshot is gonna end up being 15k 💀

[blackjackkent]

Resuming Rakha's adventures.

Left off yesterday on a bit of a tense note after the zaith'isk attempted to fry Lae'zel's brain (and partially succeeded) and then exploded. Rakha is pretty pissed - not only because this means they can't actually get the worms out of their heads, but because it means Lae'zel has been wrong this entire time. Rakha believed Lae'zel had all the answers - but it turns out Lae'zel is just as lost, after all.

For anyone in a normal situation this would, perhaps, be a less earth-shattering realization, but Rakha remembers nothing before the nautiloid and was very much depending on Lae'zel as a source of truth, and it feels like one of the major pillars of her world has been kicked out from under her.

Her greatest anger at the moment, though, is for the ghustil who betrayed them by trying to put them in the brain-frying machine. So she's pretty irritated to realize that when the doctor left, claiming she was going to "fetch her tools," she also locked the door behind her.

"Shit," Wyll says uneasily. "I don't suppose that means anything good."

"Break the door down," hisses Lae'zel. "We must find the ch'r'ai. The ghustil must answer for her crimes."

Rakha shrugs. Lae'zel is convinced that the ghustil acted alone, tampered with the zaith'isk to make it deadly, but Rakha doesn't believe it. That was a device made for killing; she still remembers the images of so many dead that have passed through it.

It was beautiful... murmurs the beast urge in the back of her mind. So many deaths, so many broken minds... pure artistry...

She shoves this thought away forcefully, and distracts herself by slamming her quarterstaff into the thick wood of the door.

----

There's chaos outside. The ghustil has summoned some half-a-dozen other githyanki officers to assist in finishing them. The fight is short and brutal; the gith fighters are cold and methodical, hardened by the same training that produced Lae'zel, but they are in the end no match for Rakha's pure bloody rage.

The ghustil herself is the last to fall, collapsing in the pool of blood left by her fellows. Rakha crouches over her fallen body, one hand around her throat, staring into that ridiculous contraption she wears over her eye.

"Nothing left to save you," she growls hoarsely. It is half the beast speaking, thrilling in the violence and death of the battle - but her own anger is mixed in too, a desperate fury borne of confusion and fear.

Her fingers flex, feeling the gentle give of the ghustil's blood-drenched skin.

The doctor, already fading, summons up the energy to spit sharply in Rakha's face. "You destroyed my life's work," she whispers coldly. "Someone... will make you pay..."

"Let them try," Rakha mutters. "But you shall pay first." Her wrist flicks and there is a sharp snap as the doctor's neck breaks. Then silence.

-----

Rakha sits down heavily as the blood-rage starts to drain out of her, and she stares blankly at the ghustil's dead body.

"Well," Wyll says cautiously, after the silence has stretched for a moment or two. "I guess we can safely say this hasn't gone according to plan."

Shadowheart snorts softly. "To put it mildly." She glances past Rakha at Lae'zel, who is sheathing her greatsword with a flat, hard expression. "What exactly did that... thing do to you? We felt it, some of it..."

"It attempted to kill me," Lae'zel rasps tightly. "A traitorous doctor - and her co-conspirators, no doubt." She jerks her head to indicate the other bodies strewn across the floor. "They have defied Vlaakith's protocol. This cannot stand."

"Lae'zel..." Wyll says carefully. "Do you... think it's possible that perhaps this was always what it was meant to do?"

She rounds on him sharply, lifts a hand as if to strike him. "Impossible," she snarls. "Such a thing would mean--"

She cuts herself off sharply and nudges her boot into Rakha's hip. "Get up, t'rac'shka," she mutters gruffly. "I tell you we shall speak to the ch'r'ai and the matter will be settled."