#expect more baldur's gate stuff soon!

[galaxymermaid214]

I saw @captastra posting this gorgeous meiker and could not help myself. Have some OCs, old and new!

Celestial Siren Aayla Ven (Outer Worlds)

Lei-Ra-Kai on a Moonlight Dance with Wyll (Baldur's Gate 3)

Golden Goddess Twinx Starlight (OC)

Princess of the Weave Lila Littleluck (Baldur's Gate 3)

[tripleyeeet-archive]

WHERE'S YOUR PATIENCE? (7)

SUMMARY: You and Astarion finally have the conversation. Among other things.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,912

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, teasing, little bit of hand stuff, vaginal sex, CONSENT IS SEXY, mentions of past sexual/physical trauma, potential spoilers for acts 1/2.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Say thank you to the 2 bottles of Corona and the tequila shot I took to loosen up my brain enough to write this smut. I couldn't have done it without them. (And also my bardic inspiration @imgoingtofreakoutnow)

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

The weeks following feel like an uphill battle —a never-ending course of constant information and action all tied into one long work month. Without warning, you find yourself overwhelmingly annoyed with the pace of it all. Not to mention the unwavering guilt, knowing that if you’re not fighting hordes of Absolute cultists or doing research on how to rip the Illithid out of your head, your time is essentially wasted.

Or at least, that’s what it feels like. 

Considering the severity of everything, even when you’re resting from a long day's work, you always find your mind wandering. Picking apart texts from old books you’ve found during infiltration missions. Oftentimes late at night when Astarion’s come back from feeding, you spend a lot of your time together relaying said thoughts. Using the late-night silence to fuel the drive that’s been missing throughout the day. 

By the time you get to the Inn within the Shadowlands, you’re surprised he’s not sick of you for it. Nowadays, just the mere thought of your own voice makes you want to rip off your ears, and although you know it’s crucial that you discuss things like this, you know there are other things that are important too. 

Like your shared confession. And your promise to talk of the past when you were both ready. 

Since that night you haven’t asked him about it. With everything happening so quick, it’s been pushed to the back of your mind —lost amongst the clutter of thoughts that you’re often forced to leave behind. Deep down, you imagine he’s somewhat in the same boat but still, there’s even more guilt that surfaces. Filling both sides of the spectrum like an overflowing glass of water —so much so that by the time you’re gifted a proper night’s rest in an actual bed you’re already too tired to care. 

As soon as you enter the Inn after your journey through the cursed shadows of the forest you head straight to the bar, barely batting an eye at the barkeep who looks you up and down, horrified by the state of your dress.

“Whiskey, please.”

“And… whatever else you got back there that doesn’t taste of fermentation.” 

You turn to see Astarion already standing beside you, moving his hand to the small of your back to usher you into one of the stools. Immediately, you oblige with a sigh, blinking back sleep as you rest your bloodied elbows on the countertop, earning yourself a look of annoyance that Astarion squashes with an unfriendly scowl, showcasing his canine teeth. 

If you weren’t so exhausted you probably would’ve laughed at such a sight, but considering you are, you instead let out a soft hum and down your whiskey when it’s placed in front of you, signalling for another. 

“I see you’ve already decided how you’re going to spend your night off.” 

Nodding your head, you barely register his words, slumping your damp forehead down against the counter with a groan. “How the fuck are we even alive?” 

It’s a fair question when you take into account all that you’ve been through. All the puzzles and battles and endless expectations to now save all of Baldur’s Gate just to get these damned Illithids out of your head. 

At this rate, you and everyone else should’ve been dead ages ago. Either murdered and looted for your tadpoles and their powers or already turned into tentacle-faced beasts. Not sitting next to Astarion, covered in blood, sweat and tears, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to keep going. How you’re meant to keep this unrealistic momentum of burnout over and over and—

He runs his palm along the base of your spine, drawing his fingers up and down as he takes a sip of his drink. “Hells if I know, darling.”

Feeling a bit delirious, you laugh and raise your head to look between him and the new drink in front of you. “We should’ve been dead by now.” 

“You? Perhaps. Me?” He pauses to dig his digits into your aching neck, making your head fall forward again in delight. “Well, I have far too much to do after all of this is over.” 

“Yeah, like what?”

When he doesn’t answer right away you remember the conversation. That moment by the fire where you kissed and confessed and told each other you’d talk about it. Immediately it fills you with anxiety, clouding your features with a worried brow and frowning lips as you crane your neck to the side. 

When you look at him you notice he’s not really there. His eyes sit in their normal position, staring back but there’s nothing. Not a thought or feeling; just two empty voids surrounded by bloodied dissociation. 

It pulls at your heartstrings far too much —makes you let out a breath and raise your frame to slip off the stool and move to hug him. Despite the lack of attention, he manages to follow suit as it happens, wrapping his arms around your neck as you burrow into his chest, once again sighing, wondering if you should apologize and offer your ear or merely forget the exchange entirely. 

Before you can even think to do either he’s standing up, keeping his hold as he grabs your other whiskey and proceeds to drink it down, barely batting an eye. 

Raising your brow at him, you feel his fingers dig into your neck again, rubbing rough circles that have you resting your forehead against his chest, trying to form any semblance of a thought. 

It makes him laugh and raise his hand to your hair, running his fingers through the roots. “Let’s get cleaned up.” 

You’re already off and climbing the stairs before you’re able to answer. Pushing through the pain that radiates through your calves with every step. Leaning against him with tired eyes that eventually open up when the door creaks open in front you of. 

Somehow you managed to earn yourself a private room. One that’s actually clean with a real bed and a tub —all of which almost have you in tears. 

“Nice of them to give us some privacy, hm?” Astarion smirks down at you as he speaks, watching as you roll your eyes and finally pull yourself away, reaching for the clasps of your leather vest. Like the rest of you, it’s coated in a thick layer of dirt and blood. All of it dried and coming off in disgusting clumps that have you scrunching up your face. Brushing off the top few clasps, you try not to focus on the way it feels against your fingers. How it collects under your nails as you narrow your eyes, struggling to get the damned thing off.

It makes him scoff and pull you back in, pushing your hands aside to undo the first clasp. “I feel as though I recall a time where you claimed to be patient?” 

As he moves down to the next one you shake your head and look away. “Emotionally, yes. Physically I—“

“I’d say you’re far more patient in that regard, actually.”

For a second you’re not sure what he means but then it hits you. He means sex. Physical intimacy. A line of which you hadn’t yet crossed due to several things. The main being your lack of conversation —your lack of focus to a promise you both said you wouldn't break. 

Obviously, the lack of time hasn’t helped either, but as you stand there, watching his fingers pull apart your top layer, you find yourself visibly frustrated. Angry at yourself for not taking the time to offer the piece of yourself you desperately want. 

After that night it was always your intention to go first. To tell him all about your past in order to open the floodgates. You figured if you were brave enough to do it —to be the one to bite the bullet— maybe he’d inevitably follow. 

But then life got in the way and now nearly five weeks later it suddenly feels like you’re stuck in this limbo. One where you’re dancing on the edge, teetering with bated breath. Wondering if maybe the time is right. 

As his hands move further and further you find yourself fighting your imagination. Brushing off the feelings that start to surface as you stare down at his hands, watching their delicate ministrations. 

It’s apparent then that he's no stranger to the art of undress. As his fingers twist and turn to work the clasps apart, you have to stop yourself from giving in to temptation, knowing that it’s wrong. Remembering the promise you made.

Moving your hand to stop him, you clear your throat and watch his eyes. Noticing the way they filter through the air to eventually focus on you, blinking as if he wasn’t there to begin with. 

“Can we talk now? Maybe?”

His hands sit against your leathers, gripping the metal with tightened fingers that still somehow manage to pale from their hold despite his complexion. “Course.”

Running your fingers along his knuckles, you slowly wrap your fists around them, bringing them up toward your mouth to place soft kisses despite the mess of battle that lingers. Then you drag him further into the room, placing him on the edge of the bed. 

“Do you know who Beshaba is?” you ask, plain and simple, unsure how else to start the conversation of your past as you sit beside him.

“The deity?”

You nod, slowly, letting your gaze anxiously fall to your lap. “I grew up in one of her churches after my parents died. Learned everything I know about the world from a priestess named Hessa.”

As you try your best to further collect your thoughts, Astarion leans in, narrowing his eyes at the way your hands start to shake against your thigh.

“Is she the one in your dream?” he asks.  

Without hesitation, you nod. “They thrive on infliction,” you explain after, watching him frown. Taking in the way his demeanour changes without warning to become something you’re not quite sure you've seen before. “Their doctrine revolves around fear. If you don’t participate you’re expected to endure only pain and misfortune.”

You remember growing up underneath all these women, listening to their cautionary tales of Beshaba’s terror. It instilled fear in you from the get-go —taught you that the only way to endure the horrors of this life was to devote yourself to her. To offer everything you could in exchange for peace, so you did. Unwaveringly so. 

“As a child, I grew up listening to these women scare everyone for the sake of their goddess.” You pause to swallow, feeling the memories of Hessa’s knife each time you later disobeyed, slice across your skin. “Then, as an adult, I followed the cycle.”

“Willingly?”

You shrug your shoulders. “At first.” 

You remember as soon as you were old enough you were sent out to recruit. To trick the minds of all the simple folk, weaving fabricated tales of disasters that were carried out by Beshaba’s hand. It was difficult to do. Seeing all those ruined minds come crawling to you for salvation —begging for forgiveness in the form of eternal loyalty. 

Thankfully though, it grew old pretty quickly. The formula of travelling Faerûn, following the endless calamity and blaming it on the lack of faith was enough to pull you out of the fog. As each day passed, it became increasingly hard to pretend your faith was still intact, so you formulated a plan. 

“When we arrived in Baldur’s Gate I tried to leave. In the middle of the night I abandoned my sisters —tried to run and never look back but…”

There’s a moment where your mouth just closes, trailing from the memories of your story; straying solely to the image of Hessa. To her hands and face each time she broke you apart and put you back together. 

Without even trying you can feel her next to you, whispering her teachings in your ear —touching your scars with calloused hands. Her voice still has that icy hold on you even when you’re far away, keeping you still as she forces you down to kneel on the stone floor and await your punishment. 

A punishment you’ll always feel you deserve. Even now that you’ve well and truly denounced the faith. Deep down you still feel the guilt of your exit. The pain of having to carry the trauma of an existence you never had the choice of living. To this day, it still eats away through the scars that line your stomach. Boring lines of betrayal across your skin.

The last thing you want to do is cry, but as the reminder of such abuse continues to penetrate your mind you find the tears falling anyway. Collecting at the edges of your eyes so quickly that you’re forced to close them in order to reset your vision.

As you do you feel Astarion wrapping himself completely around you. Pulling you into his chest with heavy hands that feel nothing like hers. Reminding you that you’re safe. That you’re here with him and nobody else. 

“Is this wretched woman still stationed in Baldur’s?” 

You feel his fingers on your chin, pulling your face up so that he can see you when you nod, holding back tears. 

“Good. Then our destinations align.” 

His voice sounds different. Instead of the usual softness or flirtation, it’s spoken through clenched teeth that strain against his throat, somehow feeling almost like a threat. An unspoken but well-articulated phrase of warning that has you sniffing and wiping your eyes. “What do you mean?” 

At first, you figure he’s talking about the Illithid. The urgent need to get to Baldur’s Gate before time runs out. But then you’re ripped back to reality —to the moments where he’s briefly mentioned his desire to return home. To finish whatever business he has after this timely journey is over. 

“The person who sent the hunter—“

He practically spits out his name. Cazador Szarr. A man you’re unfortunately well aware of given his reputation. 

After arriving in Baldur’s Gate it was common knowledge to avoid him and his property. As awful as your church was about promoting the misfortunes of others, they made it very clear not to get involved. According to them, he was an unholy man —one that could never fully be understood due to the obvious seclusion of his person.

To this day, you've always wondered what lies behind those doors of his. What sinister things he was up to throughout the years. 

However, when you look at Astarion —when you see the way his rage suddenly seems to know no bounds, you know it’s bad. Worse than bad considering Astarion hardly ever gets angry. Sure, annoyance and frustration often come out but anger —real anger— never does.  

“When you told me that you wished I didn’t know what it felt like, I didn’t realize how similar our experiences were.” His fingers rub rough circles into your flesh, distracting his mind as he lets out a breath and continues. “I didn’t know the level of your pain.”

“I didn’t tell you.”

“I know.”

His voice cracks. Your heart breaks. Then, both of you sit in another wave of silence, letting the words previously spoken sit at your feet as you stare at one another, trying to gauge what happens next.

You don’t anticipate his hands moving to his armour. Nor do you retain any sense of restraint when you reach to follow them, both of you working to pry it off before he pulls his tunic over his head. 

Despite being on the road together for so long you’ve never seen him bare like this. So open and willing to prove to you that he's here. With you, here’s here and ready to share whatever you think you need. 

Embarrassingly, it makes you want to cry all over again, reaching for his face. Feeling that familiar coolness beneath your touch as he turns to rest both hands on your hips again.

“It’s been so long since I’ve willingly wanted this.”

“This?” You look at him confused.

“To be intimate.” His fingers tighten around your flesh, digging into the plush ever so slightly. “To share the act of sex with another rather than exploit it.”

There’s a small smile that creeps through then. An inkling of hope for the vampire’s happiness as you inch in closer, placing the softest kiss you can muster to his cheek. “But you’re nervous?”

“Terribly,” he admits with a heavy breath. “In the span of 200 years I’ve bed countless men and women —all of them willing. All of them happy to have enjoyed my body only to end up at death’s door.”

It’s a lot to take in —the admittance of his faults. As soon as the first detail is uttered it’s as if the floodgates open and he’s telling you everything. From the moment he was turned and forced to crawl from his grave to the years that followed luring person after person into the Szarr home for a master so cruel you immediately wish to kill him. 

“I spent so long under that bastard’s thumb that… I don’t even know who I am anymore. How I’m meant to be now that I’ve attained even the slightest bit of freedom.” 

You understand how he feels. Perhaps the levels are different but deep within there’s always been this nagging feeling of how you’re supposed to live your life. How you feel as though you should be travelling the world in search of a new purpose rather than once again fulfilling someone else’s. 

But then you remember what’s at stake. And how even someone else’s fate can affect your livelihood. Then it’s as if the cycle repeats itself, constantly reminding you that if you don’t participate then that’s the end. Your freedom is null just as Astarion’s, leaving you to wonder what’s the point of it all.

“I think people like you and I are just meant to live.” Your hands move up to touch his hair. Carefully, you grip his curls between your fingers, pressing the pads into his skull as you run them down, hearing him sigh. “To enjoy what little time we have.”

“Little?” He raises his brow with a smirk. “Darling, I’m immortal.”

“True but you could still become a Mind-flayer like the rest of us.”

“Fair point.”

He seems calmer now. The usual persona of his overbearing personality coming through, making you grin. 

Instead of tightly wound he’s relaxed under your hold, practically melting against your touch as he lowers himself to rest on your shoulder. As he does, you end up catching a glimpse of his back, fully seeing Cazador’s work in the form of rough, red etchings that coat his entire spine. 

You have to force yourself not to ask about them until he’s ready, tightening the hold you have around his head as you riddle his face in kisses, letting your lips linger against his temple as you close your eyes. 

“They’re not as bad as they look,” he says then, somehow reading your mind. 

As painful as it is to admit, you know he’s right. Compared to other scars you’ve seen his look undeniably perfect. The way they paint the image of what looks to be some sort of sigil against his pale flesh. Despite the violence endured to create such a piece, it’s obvious that there was care put in too. A meticulous hand working away with the precision of someone borderline obsessed. 

If it wasn’t the result of abuse you could even call it beautiful. But since it’s not, you only continue to hold him, gripping his face for dear life, wondering what kind of pain he had to suffer to earn such a massive reminder of his ownership. 

“Do you know what it is?”

He lifts his head, looking at you like he’s seeking the answer himself. “A brand I’m guessing. Not that I can tell. Unlike you I can’t use a mirror. Nor can I very well reach to trace the damned thing myself.” 

Your fingers twitch at his words, feeling the temptation to touch them grow as you remember your own scars. In terms of appearance, they’re much more rigid. Three jagged lines that cover the middle of your stomach, making sure you remember. Ensuring your mind that every day you live on this earth —every new moment spent thinking that you’re worthy of whatever this is between you— that you’ll never be normal. 

The moment they dug that first knife into your gut you were marked for life. Branded just like him. 

Swallowing hard you force yourself to slip away from his grasp, watching the confusion that erupts before the understanding starts as you shakily discard your leather layer and throw your tunic over your head. 

It takes everything in you not to put it back on when you see the look on Astarion’s face. How it studies you with knitted brows and a clenched jaw that makes you want to hold him again.

“Mine are just… lines. They don’t mean anything.” As you motion to the thick slashes that have been carved over countless times you catch his gaze twitching upward, taking in the exhaustion.

“She did this?”

After you nod you feel his hand move forward, ever so gently grazing the top of the centre line with curiosity. “How many times?”

“I don’t remember.”

“But you remember how it felt?”

You press your lips together, breathing through your nose. Sucking in the Inn’s dusty air before blowing it out as you nod, forcing back the memory. Pushing through the pain as your tadpole squirms, asking to let him in. 

Like all the other feelings you’ve shared as of late, it’s been so long since you’ve felt his presence like this. Even with the Illithid’s constant use outside of each other, when he calls out to you it’s completely different. The movement behind your eye doesn’t feel like an annoyance. It feels like a call. A tingle of hope that has you answering before you can even question what it is he might want. 

When you answer there’s a warmth that hits your skin. Enveloping you completely, you feel the aching of the heat carry through your extremities, cascading down in anxious pools that have you breathing rather hard. Closing your eyes, you see the image of Astarion’s hands in front of you. Slowly he wiggles his fingers and turns his palms, taking in the fact that he’s safely under the sun, despite what he is. 

You realize then that this is the first memory he has of freedom. Of a life where he truly believes the tether’s been severed. All the thoughts inside his mind are full of nerves. Building anxieties of the past and the future being interrupted by a present he never thought was possible. 

It’s a memory that stirs you to move. To guide his hands to your waist as you crawl into his lap and grab his chin. 

Touching his skin you feel that same warmth flow through to your core. Letting it take over all the thoughts of scarring and owners and the lives you’ve both lived to get to this point, it takes away your breath. Pulls from you the needs of anything but him. 

In this moment, none of it matters anymore. Every experience is nothing more than a dimming shadow compared to the sensation of his breath wafting over your face as you angle your head down to look at him.

“Do you want this?”

His tongue darts out to line his lips. His hunger growing at the sight of you —at the feeling of you moulded to him like melting wax just cool enough to touch. “Yes.”

“So it’s okay if I—“

There’s a hand in your hair before you can finish, forcing you down to his mouth. It’s rough at first but quickly softens once he’s got you where he wants you. Firmly set atop his thighs and in his grasp. Allowing him enough access to reach up and touch the edge of your neck, his thumb lingering towards the centre to press a soft touch —reminding you that you have to breathe. That the usage of your lungs is no longer second nature but something you actively have to think about through the open-mouthed kisses that work to take it all away. 

Your head dizzies at the feeling. All at once your vision blurs while your hands begin to roam, stretching over skin and bone, eventually hitting raised scars that make you kiss him even harder, knowing it’s what he needs. What he deserves after countless years of loveless encounters. After touches, empty of anything resembling the adoration you wish to offer him.  

While laying waste to his bruising lips, you clumsily slide down his lap so that you’re standing on the ground, tucked between his open legs and bending forward. 

Confused, you feel his face twist against your own, prompting you to pull away and lower yourself further, letting your knees gently come in contact with the floor. 

“I was enjoying you where you were,” he muses then, cocking his head to focus on the way your hands begin to slide up over his knees, resting on each outer thigh. 

“And now you’ll enjoy me over here.” You smirk.

“Cheeky pup.” 

“The cheekiest.” 

After that, you shuffle closer and reach for his belt, keeping eye contact every step of the way to make sure you aren’t stepping over any boundaries. 

The last thing you’d want is to make him feel uncomfortable —to feel used in all the ways he used to experience. So you combat all that by checking in; offering him subtle glances every time you take the next step. 

You can tell immediately that he’s appreciative. Whenever he nods there’s a faint smile that sits across his lips, offering you approval as your fingers knock against the metal clasp of his belt, shakily moving to open it up.

At some point he ends up doing it himself, leaning forward to kiss your forehead and laugh at the nerves that render your fingers useless. Nerves that only spread when you stare up at his face while his hands busily move the strap aside.

After tossing his belt aside he doesn’t let you go further. Instead, he drags you further between his legs, leaning down to cup your cheeks and kiss you all over again.

It’s distracting, to say the least. The feeling of his lips moving in tandem with your own as he reaches around to rid you of your bra with two quick swipes, leaving you just as bare as him. 

It sends a shiver down your spine that makes him smirk, his upper lip quirking against yours before he gently bites down making you groan. 

“Can’t let you be the only one with a view,” he mutters against you, making you awkwardly laugh as you watch his gaze lower to your naked chest. “Can I, pet?”

“No, I suppose not.” 

Your voice sounds anything but confident as his hands continue their descent, matching your previous desires when they linger at your belt, waiting for you to give him the okay. 

When you do he makes quick work, unclasping the belt with skillful hands before lightly smacking your ass, signalling you to stand before he carefully slides the rest of it down, thumbing the edges of your legs. 

You have to force yourself not to cry out right then and there, feeling overwhelmed by the soft touch of his fingers. How they barely graze the outer parts of your already parting thighs, stopping at your knees when he looks up at you with a smirk.

“You seem nervous, darling.” 

Rolling your eyes, you shove an open palm to his chest, pushing him back against the bed with a scoff. One that makes him laugh and watch as you kick off the remainder of the fabric, trying to appear brave. Something that proves to be harder than you anticipate when he swiftly follows suit, giving you a show of your own in the form of freshly exposed skin you’ve only ever imagined in the deepest corners of your mind. 

In almost an instant, the fabric slips away, revealing more of him than you possibly could’ve expected, making your mind wander as the building arousal between your thighs twitches with desire. Telling you that you need this. 

You open your mouth to ask for more only to be yanked upon his lap causing a yelp to fall from your lips that makes you both laugh. 

“You really are a marvel, aren’t you?”

With a smile, his eyes scan your naked frame. Up and down and back, they linger at every part as if he’s studying you for future use. Taking mental notes with each passing freckle or scar that lines the length of bare skin. “I mean truly, look at you.” 

As he speaks, one hand runs along your neck —over your shoulder and down your arm until it’s resting at your thigh, gripping you tight. “I’m not sure what God out there decided to make you but remind me to give them my utmost thanks after this is over.”

When he leans in you have to force yourself not to nervously laugh at his praise, once again feeling his lips find refuge on your own, driving you to take things further. Encouraging you to make him feel as good as he deserves. 

This time though, instead of asking for approval with a glance you do so with a touch, reaching down to grip the end of his length with gentle hands that make him moan. Ever so quietly, the second you hear it you immediately strengthen your hold, using your free hand to grip his shoulder as you work him slowly, noticing him push. Feeling the subtle arc of his hips buck against your hand, wanting more.

For a moment you think about doing it. Letting your hand tighten further while you pick up the pace. It’d be easy. Nothing more than a simple readjustment but something mischievous stops you from doing it. 

Remembering that night at the grove —the one where he relentlessly teased just to get a rise out of you— you find yourself smirking and pulling away, gripping his shoulder even tighter to keep him in place.

Almost immediately, he knows exactly what you’re doing. He can feel it in the way you languidly pull at his cock, barely holding on with each stroke. 

“You think you’re clever, do you?”

You quirk your brow and bite your lip, massaging the apex of his shoulder. “I have to be if I’m going to be hanging around you.”

Furthering his torment, you then tighten your grip for a couple more pumps before returning to your previous pace, eliciting a hiss of disapproval that has him gripping both your hips and maneuvering you to sit against his right thigh. 

“Oh really?” 

Pushing up into your core, Astarion shifts you back and forth with his hands, making your breath catch inside your throat once you realize what you’ve done. How you’ve instantly set yourself up for a failure you know he’ll only revel in winning.

Considering he’s more than capable of making you fluster solely with words, you should’ve expected this —saw it coming from a mile away. 

Continuing your ministrations as lazily as possible, he barely registers them as he glides your folds against his leg. Holding you down, he manages to apply the perfect amount of pressure to build the tension, making you press your lips tightly together, forcing back any sound that might be deemed a loss. 

Even though it’s anything but a competition. A detail that’s reminded once he maneuvers one of his hands to cup your sex, rubbing rough circles into your clit. 

It makes you lose all semblance of thought, forgetting the hold you have on his cock as you shakily reach for his other shoulder, steadying yourself against him. 

“Doesn’t it feel nice when you give in?” 

Despite the context, there’s surprisingly no snark to his words. No sarcasm or bite —just genuine thought. A question so true to its word that all you can do is pant through the building pleasure and nod; letting him raise you off his leg and station himself at your entrance. 

It fills your mind to the brim with needs and wants you never thought you’d feel again. Having been subjected to abuse and then forced upon a journey you’re still not sure you’re ready for, the thought of attachments like this never once crossed your mind. 

Even after everything you’d been through, you never thought Astarion was capable of such tenderness —of loving care and safekeeping. Of gentle touches that run across your aching skin as he looks at you and you at him, both of you deciding it’s okay. 

As soon as it’s given, he’s sliding into you. Painfully slow, he uses the approval to grant you access to your shared pleasure, pushing through the tightness just as you open your mouth.

“Feel alright?”

Your fingers press against his neck as they slide up to cup his chin so you can pull your foreheads together. “More than alright.”

Through an unsteady breath, he laughs and guides you further down, allowing you both to savour the sensation for a moment before pulling back out again. 

As soon as he’s missing you’re already longing for more. Desperate for the fill of his cock, prompting a whine to escape; earning yourself a tut. 

“Remember patience?”

You do. More than anything in this moment you remember your claim and how foolish it was to think he wouldn’t forget it. 

“I recall you saying—"

“Astarion, please.” 

You’re not sure if it’s the anguish in your voice or the squirming of your hips that does it, but almost instantly he’s giving in. Once again offering you exactly what you need in the form of a push and pull so viscerally satisfying you’re left slumped against his chest, keeping hold of his neck. Forcing his hand to grip the back of your head to see the way he ruts inside of you. 

It’s a sight that’s almost too much. One that makes you moan and close your eyes, allowing him to move your face to his. At which point you’re on the precipice of ruin. Both body and mind becoming a mess of everything and nothing, forcing your breath to falter. 

You can tell Astarion’s in the same boat, struggling to maintain his starting pace the longer you mindlessly grind against him, unable to contribute much of anything else.

Together, the two of you try to move in unison, pushing and pushing —inhaling and exhaling. Anything you can do to share the burden of the building pleasure that grows and grows until—

When it hits, it feels better than you imagined. Deep within there’s a blooming that unfolds, petal by petal, opening to reveal unholy tremors that make you release a heavy plume of air through your closed lips. 

Gripping you close, you can feel Astarion follow quickly behind, twitching inside before he inevitably spills out, making both of you groan and fall back onto the bed in a fit of nervous laughter before he cheekily suggests you make use of the tub. 

-

TAGLIST: @poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi

(If you'd like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form. Also, if your name isn't on here and it should be I couldn't tag you so message me and I'll try again next time!)

[sorceresssundries]

Gale sketches by @orangekittyenergy <3

CHAPTER 1 (of 2)

LINK TO CHAPTER 2 - NSFW

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: Set post-game where Tav did not feature in Gale's troubles in Baldur's Gate. A whip-cracking, fedora wearing, Indiana Jones inspired mini-adventure - where Professor Dekarios is tempted out of the classroom, and on yet another perilous quest. (Chapter 2 out soon)

Warnings: Chapter 1 is SFW, Chapter 2... less so.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Just a bit of a fun based on the Gale as Indiana comparisons. Also, he looks like a young Harrison Ford, how could I not? This is not the stuff I'm used to writing! But it's been enjoyable and nice to try something new.

Her forest was dying. Thaes’yána, a sacred patch of overgrowth within Elltavia’s home, had been under protection for so long that the Rangers of the forest no longer knew the reason why. Its guardianship had been passed down from mother to daughter for generations, and all Elltavia had known since being a girl was that entry was forbidden, and it was to be protected from outsiders. 

But now, an arcane rot had settled deep within, and was infecting further and further outside of its bounds. Animals, once serene, were being driven to madness if they got too close for too long. Among the forest-dwellers, whispers of unrest travelled, tales of violence and theft staining the once peaceful community. The responsibility had fallen to her to find help, and she had travelled far to ensure she got it. Just like her beloved forest, if the end was near, she would not be going gently. 

Her quest had led her somewhere unexpected, to the shadowy recesses of a sprawling lecture hall. She was nestled in the farthest corner, seeking refuge from the professor's unrelenting enthusiasm. From her observations, his class appeared to cleave into two distinct factions: the diligent scribes, feverishly scribbling down every word that spilled from his lips, struggling to keep pace with his monologuing, and the other group, who seemed utterly disinterested in the lecture material. Their pens lay dormant as they indulged in a different kind of attention; lingering onto his every subtle gesture and every inflection in his voice with wide-eyed fascination. There were a number of Tieflings in the class whose tails were swishing with telling enthusiasm. She imagined if she looked into their notepads, they would be laden with love hearts and romantic doodles.

She knew who Gale Dekarios was, of course. Word travelled, especially when one had command over birds to receive and deliver news from across the realm. Even as far away as she had been from the chaos and fire of Baldur’s Gate - she had taken up moonlit vigil to pray to Mielekki that the heroes' aim be true and their hope evergreen. And now she was sitting here, staring impatiently at one of the very people who had pervaded her prayers. He was more… academic that she’d expected, in his tweed blazer and bow tie. Rounded glasses perched on his nose, occasionally slipping down during moments of particular ardour, prompting him to deftly push them back up with his finger. 

His talking seemed to go on for an extraordinary amount of time, but maybe it just seemed that way because she could feel each precious second slip through her fingers like burning sand. Eventually, the class poured out with a mixture of yawns and giggles and she approached his desk as he scribbled frantically on the blackboard.

“Your dates are wrong.” she said. He flinched slightly, making the chalk jump.He sighed and wiped away his slip, having lost his train of thought. 

“Excuse me?” He turned to face her, his scholarly face frowning and making the lines between his eyes more pronounced. He looked much older when he was frustrated, she thought with amusement. 

She pointed at his scribbles; “The fighting ended in 1421 sure, but the peace treaty wasn’t finalised until the following year.” Her eyes met his, and she was struck by the depth of them. “You may want to correct your students' next lecture. Well… the ones who were actually taking notes.” 

She briefly cast her eyes over the picture frames on his desk. There was one of a formal looking woman with his tanned skin and warm eyes sitting on a sunlit balcony by the sea, and another of an unimpressed looking Tressym perched atop a pile of books.

It was the larger group photo that caught her attention, frozen in a moment of chaos.

In the centre of the frame, a flame-red Tiefling woman was mid-laughter, proudly displaying a crudely drawn portrait of a white-haired elf, the illustration nestling within an odd-shaped gap amongst the group. Behind her, a slight woman with a silver braid, was in the midst of being lifted by a huge, tattooed wood-elf, their collaborative efforts evident in their attempt to fit her into the picture. Next to them, an older woman in druid armour gestured animatedly, seemingly scolding a large, bald man who was earnestly attempting to position what appeared to be a hamster at the forefront of the group. Meanwhile, Gale, with his finger poised mid-sentence, was engaged in conversation with a handsome, horned man who stood with arms folded, seemingly annoyed. Amidst the chaos, only a Githyanki woman remained composed, her unsmiling gaze fixed directly on the camera, unaffected by the surrounding mayhem.

They were the heroes she had seen in the papers, but here they looked less like champions of the Gate and more like a dysfunctional, loving family. She much preferred this version of them. 

“I was not aware I was being monitored today.” He took in her appearance, her dark braided hair was pulled up and away from her face, and she wore travelling robes and a worn cloak. She definitely wasn’t an academic, he thought. Though she certainly seemed knowledgeable on history. Her eyes looked much older than she did - They were the colour of summer leaves slipping into autumn and sparkled when she spoke. With her being an elf, it made sense that she was probably a lot older than she appeared. 

“How can I help you, miss…” 

“Elltavia Kidd’Alka.” Her tone was brusk, efficient. “I won’t waste time with small-talk. I’m here to request some assistance on an urgent matter.” 

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, as though this was a regular interruption to his workday. “Ah, well you can tell the guild..

“I’m not with the guild.”

His frown deepened, “Fine, the harpers…”

“Nope, not them either.” 

“Then please Miss Kidd… 

“I’m a ranger stationed in the High Forest. My home is being infected by a blight which threatens the lives of many who live there.  It is believed the cause is of arcane origin. I need your help to fix it.” She dumped a heavy, jangling pouch on his desk. “I think you’ll find this should be adequate payment.”

This woman did not mess around, he thought. She was refreshing, although he would probably like her more if she actually let him speak.

“I am a professor, not a hireling. I’m afraid I cannot help.”

“Completely understandable, Professor.” She offered warmly “After everything you’ve been through I can understand why you would prefer a quieter, more relaxed lifestyle. Besides…” She said with an exaggerated, compassionate sigh. “You’re not getting any younger.”

This appeared to have touched a nerve. “Listen, Miss Kidd’Alka - I'm sorry for your troubles, but my answer is no. Now if you’d excuse me, I have much to do before my next class. Apparently my dates need amending” He gestured with his arm for her to leave, and she tilted her head with curiosity. She was enjoying him flustered, and she did not move.

“You must feel very lucky to have such a comfortable position here at the academy. Especially with the influx of ancient artefacts that have been added to its custodianship since your arrival.” Her lips tilted at the sudden stiffening of his posture.

He remained silent, eyes narrowing as she sat down in his chair and put her muddy boots up on his desk. She removed a knife from a strap at her thigh, flashing her toned, supple skin and began to peel an apple which had been left for him by a particularly devoted student. He felt a familiar, but dusty feeling stir within him at the flash of her leg. His hand automatically flew to his chest, before remembering that was no longer necessary. Old scars run deep.

“It’s so strange how the discovery of these artefacts always seems to coincide with your sabbatical leave.” Her tone was playful, innocent, but her eyes were mischievous. She slowly let the peel fall away, her blade so sharp she barely had to stroke the fruit with the edge of it. She wasn’t even looking at what she was doing, her gaze was fixed fiercely on him. 

“Your implication is wasted here, I can assure you.”

“My apologies, Professor Dekarios. I meant no disrespect.” She took a sharp bite of the piece of apple speared at the end of her knife, and he watched with fascination and derision as she swallowed, the juice trickling down to her chin. “I just thought the rumoured artefact causing the problem may be of interest to you and your academy. But, never mind. I hear there’s a ex-Sharran cleric who is fond of adventuring, maybe she can help me out.” She could practically hear the thoughts bouncing around in his head as she stood up to leave. 

She was almost at the door when he gave a loud sigh. 

“Wait. Take a seat. I’ll see if I can get my lectures covered.”

She turned to grin at him, and threw the rest of the apple across the room and into a bin with alarming accuracy.

“Leave some milk out for your cat, professor. You may be gone a while.”

The journey back to her forest had been arduous, mainly down to the fact Gale could not get the elvish pronunciation of her name right and so had resorted to calling her ‘Kidd.’ Frustrating for a woman who was one hundred and forty years older than him. Luckily, his useful knack for teleportation meant that at least the journey was shorter than expected. 

They made it to the forest by the following morning, and Elltavia finally relaxed as the sound of songbirds and swishing trees soothed her tired feet and weary soul. She was home again. The plush canopy above them provided respite from the sun, but not the heat, and it wasn’t long into their journey before Gale had switched his slightly faded wizard’s robes into something more appropriate. 

He now wore a loose, tan coloured shirt, unbuttoned enough to display a smattering of chest hair and what looked like a faded, circular scar. His tight brown trousers were tucked into leather boots held up by a belt laden with supplies and potions, and he had a satchel slung over his shoulders. Atop his head was a weather beaten fedora. Typically, she was not a fan of men in fedoras, but the way it kept his hair back off his face and shaded his handsome features was an unexpected and pleasant contradiction to the professor she had first met. But, it was the sinuous coil of a whip holstered at his side, its braided leather worn smooth by countless flicks and flourishes, that caught Tav’s attention the most. 

“A whip?” She asked curiously, trying not to let any of the thoughts it inspired creep into her voice.

“An enchanted whip.” He replied smugly. “Much more useful than a staff, comes in handy from time to time.” To make his point, he unhooked it from his belt, swished it around his head once and then cracked it at a low hanging branch ahead of them. The tail of it curled around tight and sparked with electricity, zapping the dry wood into flame. It fell to the ground with a burning crash. He looked very pleased with himself as he extinguished the fire with a quick blast of conjured water. 

“Well…” She said in the smoky silence. “That was completely unnecessary” 

The mood shifted as they got deeper into the humid, overgrown forest. Leaves and foliage that was lush green and danced in the breeze suddenly became duller, the air stagnant and unbending. Birdsong had hushed, and the once vibrant heartbeat of the forest had suddenly stuttered and stopped.

They reached the centre of the blight, hidden amidst the greenery, to find an ancient temple almost completely swallowed by forest. Its crumbling skeleton had merged with creeping moss. Vines twisted round it like the lithe bodies of a hundred snakes, gripping and squeezing out any remaining life, pushing their way through the stone work until it was prised apart to fall to the forest floor. It once would have been grand, but now looked hollow and haunted. Elltavia grabbed Gale’s arm before he got any closer.

“Wait.” she murmured, crouching slightly. She drew out the sinuous bow from her back and notched an arrow. Her ears flicked like that of a cat surrounded by too much silence. There was something stirring, she could almost hear motes of threatening magic slinking together through the blighted air. Like heat gathering to form a storm. She could practically taste the thunder that had yet to crack.

“Expecting trouble?” Gale asked, hand now hovering over the whip at his belt. 

She did not have time to answer before a skeletal figure, clad in tattered monks robes lunged at them from the shadows. His hollowed out eye sockets glowed with an eerie blue light, and his bony fingers clutched an ancient staff, carved with runes that pulsed faintly with dark energy. As it moved, the sound of creaking bones and whispers of necromantic incantation surrounded it like diseased air. 

With a raise of its staff, a surge of necrotic magic crackled towards them. Gale dove to the side, rolling behind a fallen log, while Elltavia nimbly leaped into a nearby tree, her bow in hand.

She released an arrow in one swift motion. It whistled through the air and struck the skeleton in the chest. For a moment, the blue light in its eyes flickered, but it remained standing -  unbroken and unfazed.

The guardian turned its hollow gaze towards her and began chanting in an ancient, guttural language. The ground beneath the tree where she perched started to rot and decay. With cat-like agility, she jumped to another tree just as the first began to crumble.

Gale seized the moment, sprinting forward and pulling his whip from his belt. With a flick of his wrist, the whip wrapped around the monk's legs, pulling it off balance. The skeleton crashed to the ground, the blue light in its eyes dimming as it struggled to free itself.

The ranger leaped into action, her bow discarded in favour of a pair of daggers. With feline grace, she landed above the guardian and plunged her daggers into its eye sockets, and the dimming light was finally extinguished. 

“Nice whip work.  You get much practice with that thing?” Elltavia approached him, breathless and sweating, and blew away some dust which had settled against his neck. 

“Not as much as i’d like, Kidd.” He said, brushing away some blood from her lip with his thumb. “I’m just making this up as I go along.” There was a moment where their ragged breaths mingled, and their eyes held each other before she turned with a smirk, and headed towards the entrance the skeleton had been guarding. Gale realised, watching her sheath her daggers and count her arrows, that he was in more trouble than anticipated. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he wasn’t sure the fight was the cause of it.

They made their way down ancient, crumbling stairs flooded by spectral light from an imperceptible source, and Gale started to feel queasy and breathless. It was as though something beneath his skin, in his bones, was being sapped from him. It was a feeling he recognised. 

“Sussur” he murmured, and he noticed vein-like ridges running along the walls, thin and faintly pulsing with a moonlight-blue glow. He ran the pads of his fingers over them, and felt a dull burning sensation on his fingertips.

“it’s in the walls. Incredible. It is no ordinary magic emanating from this place.” He held his hand out flat and attempted to conjure a small flame in his palm. There was a crackle, but nothing more. “My magic won’t work here.” For the first time since meeting Elltavia, he felt unsure of himself. It had taken time, patience, an orb of devastation and a mind flayer tadpole for him to even consider that he was of any use to anyone with his spellcasting ability. It had taken his friends to talk him down from martyrdom, and then Godhood. They had  prised his own destruction away from him and cast it into the Chionthar. They had saved him, but some damage is irreparable, and some wounds will always scar.

“I didn’t come to you for your magic.” Elltavia offered behind him. “I sought you out for your knowledge, and bravery. I wanted the professor, not the wizard.”

He didn’t turn to meet her eyes, but his heart fluttered slightly at her words. He steeled himself, thought of the bravery of the Ranger who was fighting for her home, and pushed open the stone door at the foot of the staircase to reveal a giant, circular chamber. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and aged stone. The walls were smooth, carved with meticulous precision by hands long gone. Covering every inch of the surface were runes and writing, each symbol etched deeply and filled with a faint pulsing luminescence that danced over their skin. 

“Amazing”

As Gale worked his way around the room, he took out a pair of glasses to help study the variety of texts carved about the place. "I’ve read about this before. A long time ago. An order of ancient monks, secretive and nomadic in nature," he mused, and Elltavia observed the delicate dance of his fingers tracing the inscriptions, as though seeking enlightenment through tactile communion. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow, causing his spectacles to slip, and the subtle readjustment sent a shiver down her spine.

“Like the one outside?” She tried to draw on what little knowledge she had. She had limited experience with monks in her many years. Certainly she had never come across any in the forest before. 

“Not like that one.” He said frowning in concentration. “That one was dead. Re-animated, as a trap.”

He explored the ruins with an elegance befitting a sage, a paradox of scholar and adventurer, warrior and pacifist, man and mage. She found him fascinating. Turning, he caught her in the act of studying him, her curiosity laid bare.

“Something caught your attention?” His gaze was burning, and his mouth was a cocky smile.

She did not blush, Elltavia never blushed, but she did pause long enough for him to move on without hearing her sharp answer.

"They are custodians, seekers of wisdom, guardians of ancient lore, and protector of magic" His voice was low with reverent contemplation. “There are very few of them, and legend has it the ones left are immortals. Chosen by the Gods to protect and serve the precious arcane knowledge which so often gets corrupted or destroyed.” 

For a brief second, his hand instinctively moves to his chest, to rest on the faded scar. He suddenly felt like a heretic defiling a sacred temple.

“You seem to know a lot about it.” She folded her arms with suspicion.

“Well.. I didn’t get tenure for nothing, Kidd.” His eyes flash at her with confident assurance. “These texts imply that they dedicated themselves so completely to their cause, to their life of protection, that they completely cast out all other distractions. They undergo a Rite, to prove their single-minded dedication. Apparently very few passed it.” He tried not to let creeping agitation wrap itself into his voice, if there was a test or a challenge to be taken for proving worth - he felt as though he was the wrong man for the job. He had cast aside the most luring and precious of temptations mortals could ever dream of. It was a test he’d taken twice, and only passed once. He didn’t want his weaknesses laid bare in front of him again. 

“What happens if they failed?”

 His answer was simple, but he feared what would come next would be less so.

“They died.”

[bbyquokka]

12:04 am (hhj)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | hwang hyunjin x gender neutral reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | timestamp, smut – 18+ is strongly advised!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | vampire hyunjin, human reader, established relationship, consumption of blood (hyunjin feeds), vampire bites, cock warming. ( if i missed any, lmk! )

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 | 1k ~ ( 1,041 )

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 | i've been playing a lot of baldur's gate 3 (can you guess who i'm obsessed with trying to romance 👀) and ig it inspired this lil thing? idk, i wanted to write vampire stuff soooooo

♡ m.list — ♡ you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

his unusually soft hands holding your hips. his sharp nails digging into the skin, threatening to break the skin and make you bleed. his pale white skin looking ethereal in the shimmering moonlight. his white, shoulder length hair that's half up, half down flowing with the gentle and cool breeze.

to a passing stranger, it simply looks like two normal humans making love under the moonlight after a date but oh no–this is much different.

his eyes shut tightly, plump lips parted as he moans your name in between the short, laboured breaths. his teeth all seem normal, human almost, aside from the two sharp fangs that threaten to pierce the skin of your neck at any moment. 

he loves you and you love him but neither of you should succumb to such feelings. humans and unnatural creatures intertwining with one is almost like a curse. but you taste so sweet and sound so sinful to him. your skin heats his cold, pale skin. your blood is so sweet, it's like drinking honey straight from a beehive. 

he rescued you. he found you in the woods one night whilst on a hunt. he smelt your blood from a mile off and rushed to the scene, hoping to feast. he didn't expect to stumble across your passed out body, bruises and cuts decorating your skin. 

you were running from something; but what exactly? a bear? a hungry wolf perhaps, either way hyunjin saved the questions for later–he had more pressing matters to worry about.

he smelt your blood but so did the other vampires in the vicinity. he doesn't know why but he scooped you up and carried you to his lair. he cared for you, nursed you back to health. when you awoke, understandably you were terrified to be face to face with a vampire.

but hyunjin felt different. he showed compassion which most vampires don't. majority of them look at humans and think ‘food!’ but hyunjin. he held no matter how tough it got for him. he let you stay with him until you had enough strength to fend for yourself but you both grew very close to one another and the thoughts hyunjin was having of feasting on you, shackled him with guilt.

he feasted on deer's, wolves and bears but his insatiable hunger burnt. it clawed its way at him, desperate to be fed what he wants the most and that's you. he's smelt your blood, he cared for you and knows what it looks like and, to him, it looks so delicious.

one day, you offered him your wrist. he's been feasting on nothing but animals for weeks, he's not getting what he needs. the hunger, the thirst; it burns. you found him on his knees in his bedroom in a cold sweat, panting. you didn't recognise him and it scared you.

his fangs on full display. hair sticking to his skin and his red eyes blown out, captivating you and shackling your feet to the floor with fear. he came crashing onto you as soon as you gave him the ok to feast on your wrist. the first time hurt and you were left weak and dizzy for days but the more you allowed him to feast on you, the more you got used to it.

“look at me.” you whisper as you cup his cheeks. his eyes slowly flutter open revealing those blood red pupils you love. “so beautiful.”

“says you. you look gorgeous underneath the moonlight. your skin is so pretty. i'm two thousand years old and i've never felt more alive.”

“s-sh.” you mumble before moaning as he thrusts into you from below. he sits up and wraps his arms around your back, holding you close to his pale chest. his body is decorated in deep scars and old battle wounds. two distinct circle scars on his own neck indicating that he once was human.

“yn, i'm hungry.” he whispers as he eyes the flesh of your neck. he can feel and hear the blood pumping through your veins. he wants it. he wants a taste.

“do you want my wrist, hyun?” 

“no. i want more.” you swallow and look at him. puppy dog eyes, those eyes you can't resist. he sticks his bottom lip out in a pout and whines softly. “please?”

“you know i can't say no when you look at me like that.” you mumble. hyunjin grins, his fangs showing. he stills his hips, allowing your warmth to pleasure him. 

you tilt your head to the side, extending your neck as hyunjin holds onto the other with his hand. his cold yet oddly hot palm setting your own skin on fire. he brushes his lips against your flesh as he inhales your sickly sweet scent that he's been addicted to since day one.

he grazes his teeth along the skin. you hold your breath as his fangs scratch the surface. he gives your neck a soft and gentle kiss before his fangs penetrate the skin.

you whimper in pain. the stinging sensation tingling up your spine and to your fingertips. the air being knocked out off your lungs as you gasp. you grip onto hyunjin as you squeeze your eyes shut. hyunjin's penis twitches inside of you as he drinks your sweet nectar. every pool of blood coats his tongue in a sweet and savoury taste making him want more.

he's addicted and it's dangerous. he could easily drink you dry. with each passing second, you feel your blood leaving your veins. your head dizzy and lightheaded, eyes fluttering shut slowly as all your strength depletes from you.

hyunjin drinks and he drinks some more. his penis twitching and orgasm threatening to hit him. he groans, his grip on you tightening. more is all he thinks about. more more more more!!!

“h-hyun jin…” you choke out. he snaps out of it, pulling from your neck quickly. he cups your cheeks gently, blood coating his lips and the tips of his fangs.

“yn?! oh fuck! yn, are you ok?!”

“fine. i'm fine.” you say with a weak chuckle. hyunjin chews his lips, watching as you reach up and wipe away the blood from his lips.

“vampires are so messy.”

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 (𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍) | @bintificreads ; @oshimee ; @septicrebel ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo ; @aestheticsluut ; @xcookiemonsteer ; @lilquokka04

[taki-yaki]

Sorry if this is random or comes at a time where you already have a lot of requests, but how do you think Astarion would react to a Tav who has to take care of/raise their younger sibling and has been trying to get back to them in Baldur's Gate the entire journey?

Hi anon, dw I don’t have too many requests atm. I usually get around 2 or 3 at most, sometimes they take a while since I’m usually trying to think of ideas for requests or just busy doing irl things.

But the idea of Astarion having to deal with a Tav with a younger sibling is unique. Also since I’m the youngest sibling in my family, I’ve got some personal tip bits to add.

Astarion x Tav w/ Younger Sibling Headcanons

Astarion usually thought charming another for protection was nothing but a simple task. Go in compliment them, say a few of his favourite lines and then his protection is secured.

But having to deal with your younger sibling is a factor he had not accounted for. Not that he had an issue with you having a sibling, but more of the fact of how much they intervened.

Whenever it seemed you had some time to yourself in the late evenings, when your sibling was ‘presumably’ asleep, he would attempt to make some moves on you, whether it was with some flirting or teasing. When it seemed that he would make some sort of progress with your relationship, the little imp would seemingly appear from nowhere to start asking all sorts of questions.

“What are you doing?, Can I join in? Why do you have white hair, Why are your teeth so sharp?”.

He would try and keep his distance from the child early on. Choosing to forget the last time he was near a child, forced to be reminded of the monster he was that night. The shouts of battle and the screams of the children he dragged away. So why would this one see him as nothing but a heroic adventure after all he only killed a couple of goblins with ease.

When the child discovers that he’s a vampire, along with the rest of the group. But rather than running away in fear, they seem to only be more fascinated by him. 

Of course, they make for a great night's entertainment, with the antics they get up to either blabbing on about the gossip they picked up or saying who they think is your new crush. Being perceptive of others. 

“I’ve heard Tav has been talking with the wizard man”

“Hmm and what have they been saying little one, will you lend me an ear?”

“Some stuff about how strong the strong red lady is, they think she’s foxy, but she doesn’t look like one”

Snickering to himself over the naive comments that they make.

The only moments of peace that he gets with you are when he’s out with you away from camp to help with fights. Leaving the child at camp with Halsin or Wyll to keep watch over them often. 

However, during the fray of one battle, a shrill voice pulled Astarion out of the chaos of battle. The little brat had snuck outside of camp mainly from all the stories that Karlach and Wyll had told them probably, wanting to see their older sibling in battle for themselves.

As they attempt to run over to their sibling, a Gnoll attempts to strike them down, seeing them as nothing but an easy target. Still, he didn’t know what came over him at that moment, either it was to atone for what he did for those gur children or just a gut reaction, he quickly rushed between them, taking the brute of the hit and protecting them, before swiftly knocking the gnoll out.

After the dust had settled, checking them over for any injuries, Tav approached Astaion, 

“I didn’t expect you to be the heroic sort after saving my sibling from doing something so stupid. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Well I can be surprising at times darling, if anything happened to the brat, then you would have been glum about it” before turning his head aside and muttering “And I didn’t want you to see you sad is all”.

Soon after that event, the tyke would badger him even more, seeing him as an idol of sorts. At first, he is miffed by this. But soon leans into it after seeing them attempt to mimic his roguish ways, teaching him how to lockpick chests among other things, which would lead to him being scolded by Tav. 

Although he would find their antics to be bothersome at first, he would eventually learn to grow a soft spot for them and a great deal of respect, with the patience you have for them, even when they’re troublesome, it reminds him of his “siblings”, even when they would give you grief, they would still be there to help in any way they can.

[podcastenthusiast]

So that scene where you ask Astarion for sex and he breaks up with you in Act 3 if you slept with him in Act 1 but somehow missed his Act 2 romance stuff/character development.

This scene here:

(Sorry I could only find it on Tiktok. Not my video.)

What I find interesting about it is how unnecessarily mean he is. Personally I think he's trying to avoid a much more difficult conversation.

"I never slept with you for pleasure alone. Couldn't you tell?"

...Yikes. Yeah. I could tell.

"Back in the forest, we both came out on the winning side. The game was clear."

But it wasn't, though. He almost makes it sound like they both had a deal here but he was manipulating Tav, using himself like he always has, and it's like he's angry they never cared enough to notice that.

"You get a moment of escape with a world-endingly beautiful vampire. I get someone to defend me from Cazador."

Something about the way he refers to himself here reminds me of that line he says when he's bitterly lamenting the way everyone just wants his body. "There's nothing more desirable in the world than a vampire, is there?"

"I don't think, honestly, that your services are worth the cost."

...What cost, exactly? He really emphasizes the word. Plus, focusing on Tav's "services" as a protector shifts the focus away from his role in things. Astarion was the one knowingly, well, offering a service, for lack of better phrasing. This reminds me of another line of his, too, if you tell him after Araj he doesn't have to keep using himself like that, and he says "It isn't worth the scars anymore."

"This is what I do. Who do you think you were dealing with? Some fairytale prince? Haha! You are one of a tiny number of people I've slept with who aren't dead. Cheer up! It's quite the achievement."

This is so over the top extra rude. He even does his most fake laugh. Brings up his victims like that as if he killed them when we all know he was forced and there's layers of guilt, disgust, and self-hatred there.

He's trying so hard in this conversation to present himself as the monster he expects the world to see. He's saying 'yes, I'm exactly as cold and heartless as a vampire should be so don't look any closer' because in his mind it's too late to be anything else. They're in Baldur's Gate or near enough and he'll have to face Cazador soon. This is Astarion in full advanced survival mode, imo. Nothing matters but his revenge and the promise of power/safety.

He can't afford to let feelings distract him, even if that means burning some bridges with Tav. He can't be vulnerable anymore, because Tav hasn't shown him by now they could be a safe person for that.

[electrozeistyking]

I just realized what "The Amalgamation" reminds me of. The Slayer form in Baldur's Gate 3

Funny that it somewhat resembles it given I had the idea for two particular DDs I made to fuse into one being that was a giant version of a similar form. Just less surgical and more "magical".

While I'm here I wanted to say the design for it is sick. Body horror is my jam so this "little" guy was quite cool to see. Curious if you're gonna do a fic with them, would absolutely be down to read it if you did. A lot of the fics I read don't really incorporate the body horror elements of MD and it makes me a little sad since it's one of the things that drew me to the show. But I imagine you're quite busy with the Ghost Drone AU so I don't really expect it.

Also I might take a crack at drawing The Amalgamation but don't expect it to be too good. I may be able to draw horrors beyond human comprehension but limbs STILL get me. Like, how does the hand attach to arm, why are fingers so round...WHO DECIDED NECKS SHOULD BE LIKE THAT?!

I also considered drawing Beanie with one of my OCs but...almost all of them should NOT be within 500 miles of her. Two of them are literally The Boogeyman (even if Erik wasn't at one point) and the other two are loyal DDs. Yen would be sweet though, so maybe some art with them would work but I think they'd be too distracted by N's hot single dad vibes.

idk I just love your art and I want to pay tribute to it in some way because it's so awesome and super well made. Love what you're doing and hope you do well because of it!

(also sorry for the long ask I just started thinking stuff I wanted to say and putting it down)

Pal. Buddy. I absolutely LOVE writing nightmarish/horror sequences, I just don't often get a chance to flex that ability. You better believe that I'm planning on writing something about the Amalgamation! I even have a co-writer to help me with it... heheheh.

Don't worry, nothing's actually written yet. Those "excerpts" I posted were literally just me writing short little stories on the concept, seeing as I wanted to get them out of my brain... though, I may actively include them when I actually write about the Amalgamation? Too soon to say....

Also hey, don't worry if your art looks "bad" or "good!" So long as you make it, I'll love it either way! And don't worry, I love the lengthy ask! It was a delight reading all of your thoughts. :3

[noname-nonartist]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers ♡

Ooooo!!! Hi CC!!! ^w^/

Thank you so much for the asks!!!

Hmm okay! So 5 things that makes me genuinely happy…. Okay! Let’s go!!!

1. Project Sekai!

Atm, it’s my current hyperfixations! An Shiraishi and Mizuki Akiyama has my heart and soullll!!!

2. Drawing!

Whenever I have the energy (and if I ended up liking the drawing enough to post it lol), I do enjoy drawing a lot! It’s like. One of the only hobby I have since childhood tbh lol~

3. My Past Hyperfixations!

This would include Marigolds by Colbub, Persona 5, Baldur’s Gate 3, Jujutsu Kaisen, Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, Genshin Impact, Ace Attorney, One Piece, and Fire Emblem Awakening!

Of course there are a bunch of other things I got super hyperfixated about (heck, technically I always go back to Pokemon and Digimon since it was like my childhood), but these are the ones I remember being hyperfixated for monthsssss and so much so I would spend hours on ao3 reading fanfics of it!

(The expectation being marigolds since that’s technically an ao3 fic, A REALLY GOOD ONE, but I am in the discord server for that fic. :3c)

4. Cute Plushies (And I guess Merch of my Hyperfixations too lol)

Luckily I don’t really go on a spending spree… that often! (sometimes the AHDH impulse wins, don’t worry, my max is $150, and even then I don’t reach that limit, and I only do it at least every few months) O3O;

But I do occasionally enjoy getting a cute plushie at an arcade, in fact my bed has a good amount of them (mostly from my siblings winning them for me or giving it to me lol).

And now that I’m an adult (Oh god… I’m an adult), I do have a few Merch that I’ve bought! (A few of them were also gifts from friends and family)

The merch being about Jjk, Persona 5, Genshin Impact, Digimon, and Pokemon!

Watch me. I’ll soon get some for Project Sekai too!!! I just keep spending my Project Sekai indulgence savings on the costumes within the game lol. I’m responsible I swear!

5. Friends and Family!!!

I’ve been pretty lucky to have pretty good siblings. Of course, we didn’t always gotten along while growing up and we’re still not perfect, but I do really love them and really appreciate every thing they have done for me. :’3

And I really appreciate my friends too! Both online and in person too!!!

In person due to me being friends with them for so long, (and a few more recent ones too!) who I’ve always enjoyed being around with and makes my day better! ^w^/

And my online friends! While it’s some times hard for me to always DM them/interact with them due to real life stuff (sometimes I be reallly tired from work rippp X-X;), I always cherish our interactions and always wish you all the best days since you all deserve it!!!

Okay! That’s all now it’s time to tag! But since I’m super shy, I don’t wanna tag peeps who had reblogged my stuff. >x<;

So instead, I’ll just tag my online friends who had reblogged my posts in the past! That counts right? :Dc

Again, no pressure!!! ^w^/

@melodiclune (lol yep, ya count too~), @hxhhasmysoul, @himi-wiz, @tinyballerinadancer1, @sabrondabrainrot, @wrathofnature, @majycka, @olasketches, @thedemonreblogs, @blizzardream, @chocodajib

[kurohtak1]

The Tiefling of Purple Flame

Here is a sneak peek of my ongoing fic for my perfect playthrough of Baldurs Gate 3! (Art coming soon) Tell me what yall think so far! Another update will be coming soon!

Summary: Tavros Blackbriar is the golden child of the Blackbriar family, the pride and joy of the Baldurs Gate elite. We follow their story as they fight to survive the extraordinary circumstances they find themselves in.

Authors Note: This is a fun fanfic I may work on from time to time as I obsess over Baldurs Gate 3. Essentially, this is a more dramatized version of my playthrough, the events that follow, and some added sparkle to make myself happy. It also gives my Tav a personality instead of the more clear-cut options the game gives you. While we all know the main adventurer's name is Tav, my specific character is Tavros “Tav” Blackbriar. Tav is their nickname. They are a Mephistopheles Tiefling and a powerful Storm Sorcerer to boot (Tav started with 17 in Charisma). Tav is short, like 5’2, and has dark brown skin instead of the purple skin that a Mephistopheles Tiefling's would have. Tav also has purple hair and eyes. Their makeup is purple as well, paired with glossy black lipgloss and dark eyeshadow. Tavros is a nonbinary lesbian here and uses They/Them pronouns. The romance Tav follows is with Karlach Cliffgate, with a more intimate relationship with Lae’zel and Shadowheart. Hopefully, I’ll have some art and small doodles to draw along with this fanfic that I’m excited to share with y'all. 

Side Note: I do take a lot of liberties and may change up some lore and stuff about the world. So remember, this story is just for me to have fun, so enjoy.

Chapter 1:

No One Back Home Will Ever Believe This

My teacher always said, “If you’ve seen a day, then eventually, you’ll see it all". What it means is that if you live long enough, then there’s no telling what you’ll see. And Faerun, in all its magic and mystery, has a lot to offer in terms of amazement. But surely, I’d never expect this. Something cold and ominous wrapped around my body, my mind weakened and fatigued. I would fall in and out of consciousness, and through my blurry vision, I could barely make out the landscape of the room. The walls pulsed and writhed, it glistened with an odd substance. The technology around the room was strange, a blend of something metal and flesh. Dark and sharp and cruel looking. The smell was horrendous, like rotting flesh. My stomach turned, but I bit back the bile rising in my throat, focusing the little strength I had at finding a way out. My hands numbly felt around, and the walls felt oddly warm, before I could ascertain what I was trapped in, my attention was pulled away by the sound of someone moaning in pain. Craning my neck to look through a tiny window, I could barely make out the face of another person. She had pale yellow skin with black marks across her face. Her nose was small and thin, her eyes green and calculating, fighting back the haze and assessing her surroundings. She was trapped, same as me, in a mysterious and cruel-looking pod. It was then I knew that it would be impossible to escape, at least for the moment, so I focused on regulating my breath, taking in as much as I could. It was clear we were on a ship of some sort, as I could make out the hum of machinery and the faint hiss of wind against metal...

And that's it! More coming soon! And feel free to share around!

[unseasoned-brain-worms]

Jailbreak - Oneshot

Dirk's been back in Baldur's Gate for an hour, and she's already gotten arrested. Some things never change.

She was trying to investigate a murder!  If the stupid Flaming Fist could be arsed to do their stupid job then she wouldn't have to be in here.

There's a reason, she thinks, that heroics don't suit her.  

But everyone else made a clean enough break.  They're probably all back to The Elfsong by now.  And Dirk, well she's very familiar with the layout here.

Hells, she knows the locals.  

“Hey Skittle.”  She says as soon as she hears a chitter.

The rat is about the first thing in this whole stinking city who's happy to see her.  

She can't help but smile at the way the rodent's tail is swishing Back and forth.  

“Anything worth having in stock?”  She asks.

“Rat-urally.”  He answers, and disappears into a nook in the wall.  

“Only finest for an honorary rodent.”  

Her smile grows a bit at that.

Some small objects are pulled from his nook.  Potion of invisibility, she pockets that immediately.  

A Dagger, more of a pen knife really.  She'll pass.  She has better weapons in evidence.  And lock picks.  She takes them, not that she needs them.

The rodent looks at her expectectantly.  

“The guards took all my shit.”  She says flatly, pauses, looks at the expectant rat and adds hastily.

“Just give me a tick and I'll get you the biggest wheel of cheese you've ever seen.”  

The rat taps his foot in thought.  Weighing the promises she's making. 

“Since you're usually trustworthy.”  He accepts the iou after a moment's thought.  And Dirk scratches him behind the ear to sweeten the pot.

“They block the pipe yet?”  She asks, still watching the guards aimlessly make there rounds.

She was here last month.  Before all this.

It's a weird feeling being back.  

Not that she has time dwell on that particularly messy mix of emotions.  She has a jail break to get too.  She's still scratching Skittle behind the ears when he answers her.

“No, but you know how the big folks are.”

“Careless,” Dirk agrees.

She checks that the coast is clear.  The guards are inattentive, always have been, The Steel Watcher though…That iron monstrosity, oh that's a hammer in the works. It's careful work waiting till that thing's back is turned.  Then Dirk is shifting, compressing and there's just two rats in an otherwise empty jail cell.

She squeaks another thanks at Skittle.  

Then she's off through the pipe, dropping the wild shape to chug her potion when she comes out on the other side, and she's picking locks to grab her stuff, it's a breeze really, all told the work of less than a minute.  

She gathers her things, and makes sure to leave ample payment for Skittle, a ring of pass without trace, some ham, and a bit of Gold, and of course, a wedge of fancy cheese, tucked neatly in the corner where the guards won't notice it. 

Then she disappears down the manhole.

It's nice to know The Steel Watch is about as easy to skirt around as their human counterparts at the end of the day.  That some aspects of the business never change.  That she can still go overlooked and unnoticed.

The sewers are also exactly what she remembers.  Moldy, miserable, and as close to comfortable as she ever gets.  

Maybe by the time she gets back to The Elfsong she'll have figured out what that says about her.

[rielzero]

Just a little headsup for my tiny amount of followers

idk who on here reads my webcomic or comes for my other posts, but given that my autism is currently freaking out over baldur’s gate, my energy and interest for other things is very suppressed right now. I have not gained a new hyper-fixation that has excited me to these extremes for YEARS. 

ITS ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT.

The last time this happened was when I started collecting and reading comic books (Mostly marvel.) But Marvel is very restrictive in how fruity it allows itself to be if you catch my drift. And I haven’t watched secret invasion because of the stupid AI shit they pulled. Writer’s strike/actor strike is happening. I feel very disillusioned with the MCU even if I still enjoy it.

I’m craving something more appealing right now which is much more satisfying.

I’ve been craving something like Baldur's gate for YEARS and its finally happening?? Huh?? I’ve also been very excited about developing this character for the game that I intend to play and have played in the early access. I crafted this elaborate backstory for him (Which might change a tiny bit if the character customization would have me adjust it.)

I honestly have wondered if something like this would ever happen to me again. I used to swap hyper fixations almost weekly when I was much younger, then marvel has kept my heart for a long time- and then my own stories.

I have not lost interest in those other things yet though, but looking at this realistically I cannot force myself to work on things when my brain is freaking out like this- the only result would be that my interest for something will lessen if I force myself.

Given my floppy health, and my insecurity with my webcomic (I do wish to draw more mature looking things) it might be best to put it on hiatus while I work this out with my new hyper fixation, else I’m going to break my brain.

My Warlock Character is a Half Elf Urchin named Locke, and I’ll likely be obsessing over him and bg3 for some time, and I’ll likely end up drawing tons of stuff and practice drawing certain things with it. I see this as a good time to pick up experience perhaps. Maybe some comics strips inspired by it. I’m stoked.

TLDR: My stupid gay brain too fixated on BG3, do not expect anything from me for a while, except for maybe art inspired by my soon to be BG3 playthrough(s)

COUGH also don’t be afraid to ask about my TBA Tav insert (Isn’t that what they call it?) I want to ramble about my evil blorbo so badly ASJGhgjgh

*dies* can someone revivify me thanks

[zydrateacademy]

First Impressions - Starfield

I have a friend who once told me that Starfield is a game of compromises, but I can't deny that an open world Bethesda game still scratches an itch that does not get satisfied very often. The likes of Cyberpunk 2077 (which is already three years old, ho' hell...) and Baldur's Gate 3 come along to scratch my back but I still always hold hope for the next Bethesda game. So while I enjoy the game for what it is, this review might have a lot more bad to say than good, because the good is just 'good' and there's just a lot more to say about the bad.

The good here still works. Running around in a new world, picking everyone's pockets (oh yes, the "stealth archer" archetype is just as valid here if a bit twitchy), fiddling with gear and the like. It doesn't quite scratch the same tech/tactical shooter that I eventually turned FO4 into with mods but I think it has the potential when the modding tools are released soon.

Now that is always an ongoing debate. Modders should not be tasked to 'fix' a developer's game, and the baseline game has to be good and enjoyable enough to attract said modders to eventually spend years of their life toiling. As of this writing, Skyrim has 500 new mods published -this week-, and that's not even bothering to look up what's been updated as well. All that said, it still most certainly helps.

The general gameplay loop still works, generally just looting and shooting and slowly upgrading my gear as the enemies acquire better stuff while I level up. I enjoy some of the spaceflight but it's more thin than I expected. Spaceflight is not a "pick a direction and go" but more when you fast travel to planets there may or may not be some kind of encounter, between fighting mercenaries or having your cargo scanned for contraband. Once you're done with the encounter, it's done, and there's no reason to continue flying around.

I still really enjoy spaceflight and I truly wish there was more of it. But so far in ~20 hours it has mostly amounted to "kill three ships, now land on the planet towards your objective".

There's a contraband feature I'm a bit mixed on. Every now and then, notably when you're exploring "abandoned" structures on planets (so far, always occupied by pirates), you'll find some very high-priced illegal item packs you can take to the Trade Authority to hock. Unfortunately this is basically just a special item with extra steps. There's only one or two viable places to go to, to avoid the authorities scanning your ship and I've found a backpack full of high-priced guns can yield more cash than the specialized contraband which has an expected huge markdown when I go to sell them anyway. It's a fun idea but not implemented as well as it could be.

Very quickly, I am hit with this strange double-triple-unlock perk system. Things like upgrading your weapons and gear are behind a tiered wall so you might have to dump points in a line you're hardly interested in (I don't really care that my scanner gets 10 more meters, I'm running towards the thing I'm scanning anyway) just to be able to get the capability of upgrading your own stuff. After that you need to 'research' your ability to craft these things. At a certain point I might just cheat in 100 units of various materials just to skip the research part.

It's basically Fallout4's system but worse, with extra hoops to jump through. At least in FO4 your perks were just locked behind the attribute level and nothing else. But in order to fly the 'best' ships you will need a bunch of perks in the tech tree, for a game you really don't spend that much flying in.

I think the game has a scaling problem. While you can't fly planet to planet manually hoping to run into random encounters (ala~ random spawns on the roads of Skyrim that are different on every playthrough), it also has trouble with on foot traversal itself. People complained about planetfall on the first Mass Effect as just amounting to a square foot space to run around and explore in but I think Starfield would have benefited from that system here. So far in my experience I have simply done the Mass Effect thing and explored the three or four points of interest on a planet and left it at that. You can choose a point and land anywhere on planets and maybe establish an outpost but there's very long expanses of nothing and running between PoI's made me wish for some kind of hoverbike. Or a Mako.

Minor nitpick: Beth games really need to give their merchants more money. Scrolling through some reviews there's one that formatted very simplistically. Perfect? No. Overhyped? Sure. Fun? Yes. A lot of that I agree with. I won't deny Bethesda has some real work to do here (with a major patch coming in a couple of days) but I'm still enjoying the experience.

So here's a thumbs up if you're anything like me and are just suffering from the general dry spell of open world RPGs. It'll do for now.

[simptasia]

aaaah iwas just counting the days until the neil newbon astarion posting began!!! i recognized him from detroit become human when my friend showed me a video and thought oh sapphire will like this <3 as a connoisseur what do u like most abt his performance in baldurs gate 3?

thats so funny because as soon as i started reblogging him i could feel people thinking "yep there it is"

years ago i saw audio clips of neil as astarion and was like "oooh neil as a flirty vampire i love that" because that man is Made to be a vampire. but then time passed and my neil newbon crush went dormant

then this game came out

sooo my friends and dash have been going ham for this guy but i've been rather,,, distracted this month so the Thirst was only allowed to manifest a few days ago

at first i was like "neil as a slutty bitchy vampire is perfect and i love that" plus i love neil himself getting the attention he fucking deserves. however the love of astarion really Hit when my dear friend katie gushed about him to me and revealed to me his depths

the trauma. the abuse. that got me. i did Not expect what they did with this character. i thought he was the horny flirty vampire stereotype but turns out he's a deconstruction of that

turns out it's not fun being defined by how fuckable you are

annnyways. first things first, i love the body language of his performance. in game and out, seriously it's so fun to see neil do the voice in real life because he immediately adopts the fruitiest ponciest manner of moving. the cadance is so like, foppish (caught me off guard) in a way that should be annoying but it works? somehow? it's just a fun voice to listen to. dude's funny and bitchy. but it doesn't hinder the performance, like, when this dude sounds hurt/betrayed/angry, it's fucking... raw. it's painful

also i've watched some videos of his more vulnerable and romantic moments and oh yeah. thats the good stuff. at the start of this i never would have expected this character to be so damn, like, soft and giddy for the concept of like, a typical romantic relationship?

i wuv him. i wanna hold him and sleep in a bed with him and also fuck but that can come later when starry feels comfy

[ryttu3k]

Fic/writing meme, and AO3 Wrapped! Doing the former slightly differently this year, with writing listed by month. Completed stuff has links. Here's last year's, for comparison purposes!

January: 10,301 (This Train Terminates Here: 4,564, Observations: 5,737)

February: 8,695 (This Train Terminates Here: 1,738, The Body Concentric: 6,957)

March: 3,242 (The Librarian: 3,242)

April: 6,943 (The Librarian: 6,943)

May: 5,088 (The Librarian: 5,088)

June: 2,275 (The Librarian: 2,275)

July: 5,038 (Inarticulate: 1,834, Möbius Strip: 1,059, The Librarian: 2,145)

August: 4,886 (The Librarian: 2,014, untitled Astarion fic: 2,872)

September: 3,729 (Untitled Astarion fic (scrapped): 1,728, Warm: 2,001)

October: 11,411 (Driftwood: 3,351, Burning, Burning: 1,869, A Collection of Critters: 2,659, Sweet Things: 3,532)

November: 8,198 (Sweet Things: 8,198)

December: 21,781 (Sweet Things: 3,930, redacted: 2,866, this is a gift (it comes with a price): 8,782, also redacted: 6,203)

Total: 91,587

Current WIP lengths: This Train Terminates Here (draft 3): 36,306, The Librarian: 21,707, Sweet Things: 17,465

Fic/Writing Meme

1. Favourite fic you wrote this year

Oh, hmm. I'm really pleased with how The Librarian and Sweet Things are coming out, but they're not actually finished, so let's say… a toss-up between Driftwood (the post-Cazador hurt-comfort found family scene I desperately wanted to read but couldn't find so I wrote it instead) and The Body Concentric (Sascha in full Meat Criminal mode).

2. Least favourite fic you wrote this year

Ehh, I guess A Collection of Critters was a bit lacklustre.

3. Favourite line/scene you wrote this year

I really liked the bit in The Body Concentric that got this response 8D

"Anyone who thinks jump scares can't exist in a text medium is FULL OF SHIT. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

4. Total number of words you wrote this year

91,587! Last year was 81,285, so some improvement!

5. Most popular fic this year

Driftwood, with 2,880 views, 79 bookmarks, 424 kudos, and 15 comments. I guess everyone else wanted post-Cazador hurt-comfort with found families too, haha.

6. Least popular fic this year

lmao Möbius Strip. Niche ship, even more niche genre. Currently on 129 views, 1 bookmark, 15 kudos, and 1 comment.

7. Longest completed fic you wrote this year

this is a gift (it comes with a price) came in at a whopping… 8,782. This is very much a oneshot year, apparently.

8. Shortest completed fic you wrote this year

Möbius Strip was a teeny 1,059.

9. Longest wip of the year

Currently TTTH, although I'm not 100% convinced I'm going to pick it up again. Man idek.

10. Shortest wip of the year

Sweet Things is currently sitting on 17,465. Looks like I've been finishing the oneshots but not so much the longer ones?

11. Fandom you enjoyed writing for the most this year

It started out Vampire the Masquerade as usual, took a brief diversion into Zelda territory, then hard swerved into Baldur's Gate 3. Whoops.

12. Favourite character to write about this year

Astarion has booted out Sascha. Pensive emoji.

13. Favourite writing song/artist/album of this year

I get into a fairly good writing rhythm with Godspeed You! Black Emperor, I find!

14. A fic you didn't expect to write

The, uh. Möbius Strip. Haha.

15. Something you learned this year

Writing as a character you actively dislike (Etrius, in The Librarian) is really irritating. His section was 3,807 words, the Dracon's was 11,467, the latter I got through so much quicker and so much easier.

16. Fic(s) you completed this year

11!

17. Fics you'll continue next year

Sweet Things and The Librarian. I'm… still unsure where TTTH stands.

18. Current number of wips

Two active, one I'm undecided on, one that's been sitting since, like, 2021 so I may just stick on an ending and call it good?

19. Any new fics to start next year

I have. A list.

20. Number of comments you haven't read

None, I read all as soon as I get them. I may not reply immediately, but I certainly read them!

21. Most memorable comment/review

This one, from TSATFB:

"This fic is over a decade old but I need to tell you it is probably one of the most influential pieces of media I have ever read in my life. When I first read this fic I was younger than the characters in it, and coming to terms with growing up and my changing identity. Sheik was an extremely important character in discovering myself, and this story and your beautiful, complex, characterization of him was so formative for me as an artist, a writer, and a person. It's really surreal for me to reread this story so many years later as an adult and relate to it differently as I did then, but still feeling the absolute love and emotion I've always held for it. Whenever I play a Zelda game, I always think of how you've written the Sheikah's relationship with Shadow, and it's become a headcanon so inherent to my experience playing that it all feels like fact. When I write my own personal stories about the Sheikah I find that I'm always unconsciously influenced by your depiction, and I always feel my thoughts are the richer for it. This is a long rambling comment but I just really want to thank you for making this, and I want you to know how it has really impacted me and made a marked difference in my life. I am so grateful for it!"

I fuckin' cried.

22. Events you participated in this year

None, alas.

23. Fics you wanted to write but didn't

I continue to have a list.

24. Favourite fic you read this year

Oh goodness I'm actually going to make a BG3 fic rec list in the new year so. Pending!

25. A fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

As above!

26. Number of favourites/bookmarks you made this year

I'm pretty bad at bookmarking, alas. As in, the last one I bookmarked was July… 2022.

27. Favourite fanfic author of the year

See 24, again!

28. Longest fic you read this year

It's still in progress (now in act 3!), but Tale of the Star is around 250k right now.

29. Shortest fic you read this year

There were a good handful of 100-word drabbles.

30. Favourite fandom to read fic from this year

lmao you know it's BG3.

-

AO3 wrapped

(Some of these are answered above, will strike those through.)

1. How many words have you written this year? 2. How many works did you publish this year? 3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)? 4. What work of yours has the most hits?

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

Driftwood kinda exploded?

6. Favourite title you used

'The Body Concentric'. It has layers.

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist's songs did you pull from the most?

Astonishingly, I only used one this year! …But yeah, it was Florence + the Machine again, haha.

8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

Honestly pretty varied? I think it'd actually be the platonic combination of Astarion and Karlach.

9. Favourite pairing you wrote for this year?

As above. They emotionally ruin me.

10. What work was the quickest to write?

Warm just kinda happened.

11. What work took you the longest to write?

I started The Librarian in March. Stares into the middle distance.

12. How many WIP's do you have in your docs for next year? 13. What's your longest work of the year? 14. What's your shortest work of the year? 15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

16. What's your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

I'm not sure about just for 2023, but Vampires has 18 works and Angst With A Happy Ending has 13 and those. Continued.

17. Your favourite character to write this year?

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Fucking Etrius.

19. What's one pairing you want to explore next year?

Definitely want to write some Halsin/Astarion. They have a nice friendship going on in Sweet Things but I haven't written them as an actual ship yet.

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

lmao Driftwood.

21. How many kudos in total did you get this year?

1,599! Technically the year isn't over yet, granted.

22. Which work has the most comments?

Currently, this is a gift with 20 threads.

23. Did you do any collaborative works this year? 24. Did you write any gifts this year? 25. Did you receive any gifts this year?

Nope to all three of these!

26. What's your most common category?

It's actually pretty varied this year! F/F has one (Inarticulate), NB/M has two (Body Concentric and Möbius Strip), M/M has two (this is a gift and Driftwood), and Gen, astonishingly, has three, kinda four if you include Driftwood being heavily gen as well and the ship (Astarion/Gale) being more background! (The others are Warm, Burning, Burning, and A Collection of Critters.) Also, one of the redacted ones is F/M and the other has multiple ships!

27. What do you listen to while writing? 28. Favourite work you wrote this year? 29. Favourite line/passage you wrote this year?

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

Baldur's Gate 3's plot is deeply appropriate because it definitely gave me brainworms.

[hopefulstarfire]

Okay this is what I'm looking at for my schedules for weekly stuff after I move into the house.

Monday -> Either Pokémon Infinite Fusion OR Randomized Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky. After I finish one, I'll go to the next.

Tuesday -> Writing! This will be script writing for the podcast, along with working on original projects, i.e. Crossroads, Astrarium, and more. And also trying to work on the yugioh oc fic (though the gc and I talk about these ocs and the show daily)

Wednesday -> I'm thinking Stardew and digging deeper into the mods, i.e. the Ridgeside Village and the Expanded mod. And also my Zorro mod. Bc I love Zorro. It will be either that OR Baldurs Gate 3 bc my husband has told me I am playing it as soon as we get our desks and computers set up lol.

Thursday -> Also a writing day, but this will be the day I post up new episodes of the Court Jester of Games podcast. If I decide to get another podcast going, that podcast will update on Tuesdays.

Friday -> Haven't picked yet! I'm thinking I may do one of my switch games, I just haven't yet decided what that'll be yet. I'm debating bw Persona 5 Royal (one of my favorite games), Fire Emblem Engage, Phoenix Wright and Breath of the Wild.

Saturday/Sunday -> My off days! I may once in a blue moon do a stream but that's if like. The hubs wants to stream on his days off or if some of my friends that'll be off on weekends want to. But I plan on just relaxing and watching shows those days lmfao.

I'm expecting September to be when I start. I gotta get everything set up after we're settled in and get some hands on learning with set ups (esp since I'm starting out with just one monitor bc it's more cost effective) as well as get internet set up and all that. But I would say give me until mid September before content starts coming out!

[valiantvillain]

I knew visiting my ailing grandparents would leave me feeling kinda unsettled but I didn't expect it to just take so much out of me. We got back home last night and I didn't sleep entirely well, and now I feel like I just have a physical, emotional, and mental weight pressing down on me. Grandma still has her anemia of yet-to-be-discovered origins and isn't using her oxygen like she should and her piece of shit husband (whose negligence of her health is the reason she needs oxygen 24/7 now bc a case of pneumonia she had in November got so bad) still isn't prioritizing her frail health. Meanwhile, the grandpa my mother decided not to speak to for forty years for reasons I still do not entirely comprehend has stage 4 pancreatic cancer and I just met him for the first time yesterday. And he will be undergoing chemo soon not to cure it but to just buy himself 12-15 more months. And after seeing them both I just feel this listless heaviness. Like, is this what anticipatory grief feels like? I dunno but it sucks.

I apologize for getting serious on a blog that has been mostly about fun and fandom especially since recently I know a lot of people have followed me for Baldur's Gate 3 stuff. Fandom has actually been my little escape away from reality lately so I've kinda thrown myself into it on the daily as it lets me forget about the stuff going on with my family. It's been this little outlet where I can be silly and just sorta absorb all the excitement like a sponge to feel better. But uh...I just kinda had to get this off my chest because outside of my family I haven't really talked about this stuff to anyone yet.