#if the mind flayer says its fine just

[wisp-of-chaos]

Ok honestly, though. If Ansur just've listened to his friend and accepted its "I'm fine I don't need a cure pls stop" then we coul've avoided this boss fight with that stupid ass one-shot attack AND could've gotten a cool ass dragon ally.

But noooo, Balduran is now a mind flayer and suffering and the only thing to help them is to kill them.

Like, PLZ

[happy-beeeps]

Sweat it out

Summary: tav comes down with a nasty flu, and one of her travel companions begins to worry... and maybe realize his feelings

WC: 1.3k

warnings: none i think! idiots in love

f!tav x reader

It’s quiet outside Astarion’s tent as he paces back and forth. Halsin has been inside with you for far too long, and the lack of communication has him worried. How long has it been since he hasn’t ended the night with your words, your breath near his? Weeks, months?

He doesn’t like to think of it. In fact, he’s doing an excellent attempt at thinking about anything else as he paces, and fails to notice the clatter of their camp members walking over to him.

“Chin up soldier, the rest of us seem okay, it probably has nothing to do with her tadpole.”

“Karlach is right,” Gale agrees, “it seems unlikely that the rest of us would be spared the same fate if this truly was connected to our wormy affliction. She will pull through.”

As much as it pains him to admit it, Gale is right. For all logical sense, this should have nothing to do with the mind flayers—but the thought offers little comfort (few things hinging on Gale’s ideas rarely do.) 

It has started this morning, you had remarked how your head felt wrong. You felt wrong. You had ignored it, had soldiered on. As the day progressed, you complained of aches that had not been there, of chills that ran down your arms. Your skin grew pallor, covered in a sheen of sweat. By the end of the night, a cough ragged at your chest, and you could do nothing f else but whimper to yourself. The slightest motion had set tears out of your eyes, your skin burning itself to rid your body of whatever was happening.

Only Halsin, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart accompanied you now, the two healers were working overtime on an attempt to find your ailment, and Lae’zel was not easily persuaded to leave behind one of her dearest friends.

Astarion thinks of the dagger pressed to poor Wyll’s throat when he kindly attempt to guide her towards a spot nearest the fire.

He’s worried about you. This isn’t new, he’s made peace with the reality that he cares for you, he just hasn’t figured out how to say it. Now, he fears the opportunity may be slipping from him.

It’s Halsin’s booming voice that calms his nerves, he and the other two step out from the tent, his grin palpable even from where Astarion is standing. “She’ll be fine. It’s a nasty virus, I’ve given her a brew to aid in the healing, and I’ve created tonics for the rest of us.”

As he passes them out, Shadowheart walks up to Astarion, who is quickly making his way towards your tent. “You… don’t need a tonic. On the account of you being, you know. Not really alive.”

“You’ve got such a way with words, really,” he breathes, but his eyes flicker to the flap of your tent, “so I can go see her?”

Lae’zel speaks up, placing a firm pat on his arm as she walks by, “she’s certainly been asking for you.”

* * * 

You have two clear, feverish trances.

The first is of your mother. A memory that’s not uncommon, one you drift back to anytime you attempt to rest an illness away. Its familiarity brings comfort as you attempt to sweat this bug out, and ignore Halsin and Shadowheart’s proding over your body. 

The other is… newer. One you hadn’t expected. You’re in a secluded section of camp, feet tapping against the water, skin swathed in moonlight. Your wearing nothing other than a long, white shirt, unlaced dangerously along the neck. This is no more than two days ago. 

You follow the memory along, watch from your eyes as you trace circles along your bare thighs, until you look to your side. Astarion is there, eyes swimming with emotion, as he gnaws on his lip.

Memory Astarion reaches out, grabbing your hand, weaving your fingers together. “I’m glad you’ve convinced me to stick around after our escapades, you are entirely addicting.”

Memory you leans against him, pressing your weight against his. His skin is cool, the chill sending tiny bumps along your exposed legs. “I’m glad you’ve decided to humor me, Star.”

You’re mortified when your eyes flutter open, your mouth in the process of muttering his name, to realize he’s here. Next to you. In your tent. As you sweat through probably a third pair of smallclothes.

“You rang?” He’s cheeky when he speaks, but his hand goes to palm your stomach quickly, as if he’s checking to make sure you’re here, you’re still you. The concern is sweet, and it sends an all new kind of flush across your body.

“Feel so sick, Star.” Shit. Is that tiny little voice coming from you?

He moves then, gentler than he’s ever moved before, carefully contorting his body around yours and pressing you against him. In an instant, it’s like a salve to your soul. You’re covered in him—his smell, his weight, his temperature. The chill itself is a whole other soothe to your aches. 

“I know you are darling, but Halsin said you’ll be better soon.”

“Can’t get you sick,” a cough takes your lungs briefly, “who’s gonna pick the locks for us then?”

He laughs, and smooths a few stray hairs out of your face. “I won’t. Officially medically cleared, according to Shadowheart. On the account of my ‘not being alive.’”

You move to nod your head, but the pain makes you stop. Astarion is quick, and he cushions the movement with his hand before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I hear you were dreaming about me?”

“Maybe. Lots of trances. You know how it goes.”

“Was it particularly scandalous? Is that why my little love is so keen to swear?”

“Don’t have it in me to hit you.”

“You wouldn’t dream of it.”

It’s a calm silence that takes you next, Astarion stroking your hair as you listen to the distant clamor of your friends. You break it, after another moment.

“I remembered my mother.”

You don’t often talk about your family, and he knows this. He moved just slightly so you can see his face, curiosity and warmth covering his eyes. “What was it?”

“When I was little, I got sick, nothing bad but still sick. My mother, she’d rub my hair and sing to me,” you pause to close your eyes, as if you could will her here right now, “she’d go to our kitchens and shoo the cooks out, she’d make me her special soup, and when she brought it to me she’d promise me she’d teach me one day.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“She was. Smart too. She always knew things about me that I didn’t know.”

“Oh, like what?” Astarion’s face shimmers with a laugh and you use the last bit of your strength to attempt a shrug and burrow into his chest.

“She used to tell me she knew I’d end up with someone older. Don’t know if she knew how old.”

After your words, as if in cue, your chest begins its steady rise and fall, and Astarion recognizes the twitch in your fingers. You’re trancing again. Which means he’s stuck with your words and their heavy implications.

Still, with the way your overheating body simmers against his cold touch, he resolved that he doesn’t mind their weight, not at all. In fact, he’d like more of your burden.

You don’t slip out of your trance that night, but feel the briefest ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

When sunlight rolls around, your eyes blink awake. You’re weak, you can feel it, but better. You go to sit up, but realize quickly Astarion’s weight is still against you, one arm cradling your head to his chest, one arm twisted beneath you. 

You’ve never quite felt so comfortable, so held. You don’t remember what you told him last night, don’t remember exactly what he said. Instead, you decided to live in this moment now, and pray to all the gods you’ll get to relive it again soon.

[lexirosewrites]

Long time Listener, First time caller here when it comes to Slick Sunday, Here's an AU I've been playing with. Basically the thought process for this one was "Wow, S3 Steve is a bit of a bimbo --> I wonder why he's like that --> the Russians must have put something in the mall water" and then making that "something" ABO bitching juice (STAY WITH ME I PROMISE IT MAKES SENSE). So, here's how it goes:

Alpha!Steve gets the job at Scoops Ahoy, normal setup all that, and while he's there he's making ample use of the sink in the back of the shop to hydrate throughout his shifts, even though there's a sign that clearly says "hey man don't drink this". Robin thinks he's being an idiot but Steve says that it'll be fine, its not like its contaminated with anything. Over the course of the summer though, Steve gradually notices something is up. His scent is all fucky, he's tired, and omegas aren't responding to him the way they used to. But he brushes it off and thinks "ok its just because I'm tired" and carries on. This comes to a head when the Scoops Troop gets caught in the Russian base. During the interrogation one of them notices Steve's predicament and laughs about it before dumping him in the room with Robin. Steve doesn't catch much other than the word "omega" and "сука" (Which is Russian for Bitch). He sort of puts together what they mean, but it doesn't click until after the fight with the Mind Flayer (One notable mention about that, Billy survives with major injuries, this is a surprise tool that will help us later). Steve goes home, and basically the moment he feels even a tiny bit safe, his body launches itself into a presentation heat. Which obviously scares the fuck out of him because what the fuck, it's impossible for bitching to happen without another alpha, but here he is, with a brand spanking new cunt and a whole new set of problems to deal with. He and Robin work out that the forbidden sink water was probably laced with something meant to keep the people in the mall from noticing the weird shit that was happening, and by drinking it Steve may have ingested enough to make his dynamic shift. And not just shift, but shift HARD. See, Steve is now something of a super omega, he has stronger, more frequent heats, he's basically always in pre-heat, and according to the doctor who takes a look at him, they're not going to get any better. Oh and suppressants now do less than jack shit for him. So Steve is stuck like this, with no solution except the exceedingly notable exception of having a baby. The doctor says that if he's pupped, he may be able to control future heats better, and potentially return to normal baseline omega levels (returning to being an alpha isn't possible but Steve is not worried about that). After much deliberation, he decides that having a whole ass baby is better than the constant nightmare that is his heats, and so he hits up someone he thinks will be willing to hit it and quit it.

Eddie Munson does not want to hit it and quit it but the very pretty boy is basically begging him to help so he does, with the knowledge that Steve explicitly is not looking to be mated and will basically want nothing to do with him after, which is heartbreaking a little bit because Eddie wants to be a father SO BAD MAN. And if Steve had ASKED he would KNOW that but they're both idiots. So Steve is pupped, he's probably gonna get kicked out if he's unmated and he thinks Eddie wants nothing to do with him. He's not sure what to do about that until he's approached by Billy (Who in this au, despite being an asshole, is a morally okay guy who doesn't want to see Steve in trouble) Billy essentially offers to pose as the pups father, so Steve can have his damn baby in peace and get on with his life. Of course, he doesn't mean to catch feelings but we all know how this goes. Cut to a few months after Steve delivers twin pups, and who arrives at his door but Eddie, begging to see the pups and be present in their lives. What happens next is up to you, personally I am partial to Harringroveson (Metalsandwich) raising the pups together but there are opportunities for angst galore if you're down with that.

Happy Slick Sunday! Hope this is enjoyable lol :>

woohoo! accidentally bitching steve!🥳🥳🥳

[swervinonalatenight]

So many have interpreted The Emperor Balduran as a meta commentary on the how the player interacts with game characters and acts as a mirror of how you’re character acts to others. Which is super interesting and props to the writers for it.

But I always see The Emperor, “The Character”, which is its own can of juicy worms.

I should start off by saying this. The Emperor is NOT Balduran.

Ceremorphosis in its final stages destroys the soul of the host and replaces them with a mind flayer that has some of the memories and experiences of the host. They are not a transformed version of the original. (So sorry to pull out the rug on those who want to save Karlach with ceremorphosis, but that’s not Karlach anymore, it’s an ilithid based on Karlach.) They cannot be resurrected, they cannot be recovered. Their fundamental nature has changed from whatever they were, into a new mind flayer.

With this in mind, we can examine The Emperor from the start of your first meeting. The Emperor lies to you. He comes to you in a form of a dream guardian, someone who appeals to whatever you or your characters ideal is. He is everything you would want from the start and promises to protect you if you help them.

When The Emperor does reveal himself as a Mind Flayer, he doesn’t do it willingly, when you have grown to trust him and he you, it’s when he was forced to, when all options of hiding are gone. IIRC he never says anything about revealing it to you, if he could he would have kept lying to you for as long as he needed. He plays off his deceit by saying that he needed you to trust him, that you weren’t ready for the truth, shrouding you in wool of “forces beyond your understanding”.

He catfished you.

Then next you talk he tries to relate, tell you of his exploits as a human. A noble act yes, but again, shrouded in mystery as to who he was. He says he only killed criminals to feed off of, but never what kind of criminals. Were they murderers? Petty thieves? Gang members? Someone who stole bread to feed a starving sister and their son? He never says, just “criminals”. He worked with someone to make the place better, only to have it turn out he mentally controlled her to the point of making her brain dead.

His best friend, most likely lover, saw he was sick and went from heaven to hell to try and get him better, while he said he was fine with how he was, until the point where his lover was unable to accept him being gone and he killed him in self defense. Only, as it turns out, his lover may have actually been trying to stop him from doing something evil.

He says he has a troubled, but understandable past that you should sympathize with.

He then comes to you shirtless, ‘vulnerable’. He says there is a connection between you two that has driven you closer, that you understand him and he you. He gets you, and thinks you should “get to know him”. He seduces you, and he’s happy if you go along, but if you refuse he sounds miffed, like he was banking on it happening. And he says he knows everything about you and what you want.

He uses sex and a perceived attraction as a means of gaining trust, started with a false sense of vulnerability.

When you do as he says, follow his lead and “trust” him, he acts happy, overjoyed that you trust him and that you are following your best chance at salvation. That you see Balduran, not a mind flayer.

When you don’t do as he says, not necessarily distrust and go against him, even just thinking “maybe there’s a better option” he calls you a fool, and idiot, an incompetent who will damn themselves and everyone else because they don’t follow his vision. Even in the end, when you say you trust him but killing s bound and helpless man who he’s enslaved and exploited to get this far is wrong and that freeing him is best. He immediately cuts all ties and goes to a higher form of authority to get back at you. He exploits your desires about you, using the dream guardians as fodder. All your desires are nothing but tools to break you down. He knows you, but since you defied him, he will break you for daring tho think against him at all.

Really, The Emperor is an abusive/manipulative partner. He breaks down natural barriers of trust with his words and charisma of “trying to help you” and that you are the only hope (“I love you so much, you are so much better than me”). But only in so much as you follow his word. (Why are you doing this? Aren’t we partners? Don’t you love me? I’m the only one who can help/love you!) He isolates you from the others by talking to you alone, wraps you in six different kinds of lies to protect your sweet precious mind. (DW, it’s fine you don’t need to think that hard about it baby. I will take care of everything you just listen to me) And the moment you decide any other way than his way may be better, he goes against everything he has ever said to you and joins with the thing that enslaved him before just to get back at you, using everything you gave him against you. (Why don’t you love me!? We shared so much together?! Fine! Hope you love getting harassed and swatted bitch!)

The Emperor never cared about like he said. He’s a mind flayer, you are just, a really important thrall to him. That’s all you ever will be. A mind flayer mind is so alien to the thought of “other races are ok” that the closest they can get is “my favorite slave”.

He cares about you only in so much as you ensure his freedom. Becoming a mind flayer, is his way of gaining total control, as you are now HIS ideal, alone from anyone else that may care about you.

[alisha-is-sorry-for-the-emperor]

I'll be honest, I don't quite fit in with other emperorfuckers here because a lot of you seem to be trying to excuse it. Which is fine! But I like it as a terrible unfeeling manipulative abomination that maybe has some weaknesses (eg a really fucked-up affection for its thrall Stelmane). I like the horror of this thing that isn't Balduran gliding around with some of his memories and a perhaps-coincidental urge to protect the city at almost any cost (except self-preservation, and honestly I think self preservation is normally a good thing). I like the fact that allying with the Emperor does actually work, but it's almost certainly the morally wrong choice, if only because leaving the Githyanki people in the hands of Vlaakith is evil. That's not actually Emp's fault, tbf, I think betraying it is evil too. But I like that the game forces you to make a choice which genuinely has no no-regrets outcome, if you have any sympathy for the Emperor, as I obviously do. Whenever fiction asks the question "is this a person?" the answer is nearly always "yes" because the other answer is boring and dehumanising (which is a word that would presumably be hugely offensive in Faerun, I just can't think of a better one). But I am interested in the question - what makes a person? The Emperor doesn't have a soul, it may well be continually adjusting its behaviour for maximum emotional impact. How different is that from what people do, though? We calculate how something will be taken before we say or do it. Anyway I am noodling on a little fic about mind flayer Karlach meeting up with Omeluum after the final battle, to discuss matters of transformation.

[glitterandmoondustofficial]

And Onto Further Stillnes

Chapter 18

Notes:

Characters: Gale, Yrelia, Tara Rating: Mature Warnings: PTSD, chronic pain, slight body horror, sexual content Notes: the idea of the orb leaving Gale permanently damaged makes me rub my hands together like villain

Gale woke up with a gasp. His heart pounded, his ears rang, and his brow was sweaty. 

Calm down. Calm down. If you don’t keep calm…

He looked around the room. It was practically spotless. It couldn’t possibly be this spotless. Not with his condition, not with the orb. With his heart racing he sat up. He ran his hand down his face and breathed deeply. He looked around the room again, looking for Tara. He blinked in surprise when he found Tara sleeping on the chest of a woman.

A woman?

Right, not just any woman, but Yrelia . His love, his fiancée, his savior.

The past year started to slowly play in his mind. The abduction, the tadpoles, Mind Flayers, falling in love again, finally feeling content with his life.

He let out a breath and laid back down. He watched Yrelia shift and bring her hand up to stroke Tara’s fur. A tired hum came from her throat and she opened her eyes. She looked at him in a sleepy, confused state.

“Gale?” She said softly. “What’s wrong?"

“It’s nothing, my love.” Her weary eyes focused and she stared at him with such clarity that he knew exactly what was going on in her head. He sighed. He reached out and brushed his fingers across her cheekbone. “Apologies,” he murmured. “I don’t wish to worry you.”

“It’s eleven months too late for that.”

He let out a breath that was close to a chuckle. “I suppose that is true. I am fine, dearest, it’s but a bad dream. Some memories of the past that felt all too real.” He ran his hand down Tara’s spine and her ears twitched. 

“I see,” Yrelia said. A slight frown appeared on her lips.

“Mister Dekarios,” Tara yawned and both Gale and Yrelia turned their attention to her. “It is unwise to ignore such an intense emotion.” She stood up on Yrelia’s chest and stretched. She flew up into the air. “I’m going to see if there are any pigeons who decided to find their way to our tower.”

Gale watched Tara fly out of the room before sighing. Yrelia sat up and turned to the lamp on her nightstand. She lit the lamp and a warm light made the room glow. The gold paint on the ceiling sparkled and the silver thread on the comforter shone. Yrelia’s little grey hairs were illuminated and the way a small curl bounced its way out of her braid was quite captivating.

Her cotton nightgown strap fell off of her shoulder as she sat against the headboard. Gale sighed and sat up next to her. They sat in silence for long moments. Which was Gale’s doing, of course. He needed to be the one to say something, he needed to initiate conversation about this fault of his.

Yrelia yawned and Gale could see how tired she was. He chastised himself for getting cold feet and avoiding conversation, making her stay up longer than she needed to be. He was the one who was always asking for more time in bed in the mornings. Yrelia was always up and ready to go when she had a full night’s rest.

He was always doing this to her. Always somehow waking her up when this happened. He sighed. How much more of a burden on her could he be? Wasn’t he supposed to take care of her in this life? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one who healed her wounds, calmed her soul, kissed her tears?

She took his hand in hers and brought it to her lips. She kissed his wrist softly. Gale felt himself becoming choked up.

“I can hardly believe this is all real,” he croaked. Yrelia tugged on his hand to pull him towards her. She laid his head in her lap and started to run her fingers through his hair. “It doesn’t feel real to be this content. When I dream of my time with the orb, it feels real. Perhaps that is my reality and this is simply a dream that I escape to when I can’t take the pain anymore. It would make sense that I would dream of someone who would tolerate my existence the way you do.”

“I assure you that this is real,” she said, caressing his cheek and rubbing his cheekbone with her thumb. “The orb has been removed and you’re safe at home.” He breathed and rubbed his chest. “And I don’t tolerate you. I love you.”

Love?

Yes, love. 

It was a sweet love. It felt new, refreshing, and so, so incredibly warm. He had never felt something like this before, no one had ever loved him so purely, so selflessly. She was his everything, his light in the dark, a helping hand as he gasped for air while being buried alive. Her unrestricted devotion, her stubborn dedication. He had told her he would do anything to prove himself worthy of her. 

And he had come so close to losing her because of his own hubris.

When she smiled at him, when she greeted him with a kiss, when she curled into him in their bed, he had to fight off the memory of her looking so hurt while she asked if a life together would ever be enough for him. To think he made the woman he loved so dearly feel as if she wasn’t enough…he’s not sure he could ever forgive himself even if she had. 

“I love you, too,” he breathed. “If not for you…” he trailed off before speaking up again, “I surely wouldn’t be as happy as I am now.” He covered her hand with his. 

“Where would I be if not with you?”

He let out a breath that felt like a pathetic chuckle. “I’m sure any one of our companions would have enthusiastically formed a bond like ours with you.”

Yrelia hummed. “I suppose,” she said thoughtfully. “But I wasn’t interested in anyone but you. Do I have no say in who I am with?” Yrelia laced their fingers together.

“Of course you do,” he said. “All I meant was-” 

Yrelia covered his mouth with her hand. “I know what you meant.” She uncovered his mouth. “Unfortunately for you, you now have to deal with the consequences of making me fall in love with you.”

“I don’t recall making you do so,” he said, starting to smile. “That was your own ill-advised decision.”

“Hm, good point. Well, next time a very cute and chatty wizard pops out of a glyph I will make sure to not fall in love with them.”

He chuckled lightly. ‘My lady…” Yrelia smiled down at him. She resumed running her fingers through his hair and he was brought back to his lesson. The simple image that he could only dream about was his reality. Yrelia was here. She was now. She was in his bed, in his home, in his life. She had followed him to Waterdeep and became a permanent figure within his tower.

Yrelia yawned again and Gale blinked. He had dozed off as his future wife ran her fingers through his hair. Gale sat up and rubbed his face. He looked at his tired partner and leaned in and kissed her lips. 

“You’re wonderful,” he said and she smiled. He laid on his side of the bed and opened his arms. Yrelia’s smile grew and she snuffed out the lamp. She curled into him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing a kiss into his throat. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she murmured. “Get some sleep, love. We don’t need you slipping into your old habits of staying up all night.” She kissed his throat again. “I like falling asleep with you far too much for that.”

Gale smiled. 

And he tried to fall asleep. He very much did try, but he needed to feel Yrelia in his arms. He needed to feel that this was his reality. That the orb was gone, that the tadpole was gone, that he wasn’t dead. It really was difficult to believe reality when everything had gone wrong so quickly, and then his suffering was so long.

And now…it just wasn’t that way.

He was home, he was engaged, he had coworkers, colleagues, companions, and friends. Tara was here, Morena and Lillian were safe, and Yrelia was holding onto him. She pressed kisses to his skin, she tiredly mumbled “I love you” to him.

All that should be left from his time with the orb was his faded scars.

“You’re scarred,” Yrelia softly said one night in an inn on the way to Waterdeep. Her fingers brushed against his cheek. She laid atop him, both of them calming down after they decided to not fall asleep once they laid in bed.

Gale gently ran his hand up her naked back, leaning into her touch. “I’m afraid so,” he said and smiled when she kissed his cheek. “I had hoped that this wouldn’t be the case but it’s to be expected.” 

Yrelia fingered his neck. “I suppose you’re right,” she murmured. “Still, I had hoped that it wouldn’t leave such scarring. The color is gone but…” she sighed.

“Magic rarely leaves things unscathed,” he said. “It’s as dangerous as it is beautiful.” He kissed her. “Much like someone I know.”

She chuckled. “Hm? And who is this someone? I think I’d like to meet the person who caught Gale Dekarios’s eye.”

Dekarios. 

The way she said it sounded so sweet. He could practically taste the sugar in his mouth as she said his name that had almost been forgotten to his ambition. 

Gale brought his hand up to her face and cupped her cheek. “Well, she might be in this very room,” he whispered. “And for some reason or another she agreed to spend her life with me.”

Yrelia’s eyes softened. She smiled and kissed him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Gale stared at Yrelia’s soft face as she slept. The sun shone on her face as she slept peacefully. Perhaps he should wait to bring her breakfast. He had assumed she would have awoken by now. 

She shifted in her sleep and her nose twitched. She hummed and took in a deep breath. She blinked open her eyes and stared at him. 

“Beloved,” she yawned. “You didn’t have to.” She smiled as he placed the tray in her lap after she sat up. 

“Ah, but I wanted to,” he said and kissed her temple. “I’d hardly call myself the perfect husband if I can’t present you breakfast in bed every once in a while.”

Yrelia hummed and then kissed his cheek. She lifted her coffee mug to her lips and sipped. She closed her eyes with a smile. “So you couldn’t get back to sleep then?”

Gale opened his mouth and closed it. “How did you know?”

“You look exhausted,” she said and sipped her coffee again. “And you don’t do breakfast in bed very often because you like to sleep in.”

“My lady,” he groaned. “Please don’t point out one of my many flaws.”

Yrelia laughed. “Gale, it’s not a flaw. I think it’s cute.” She pinched his cheek. “You’re not perfect and I like you that way.” She kissed him. “Thank you,” she said warmly. “This was very sweet of you. I am so lucky to be marrying you.”

He let out a breath. He was actually the lucky one. He watched Yrelia take the hair roller out of her bangs, making them sit perfectly on her forehead. Her pretty black hair with little bits of silver. He understood why she liked his grey hair so much, he loved hers. Little strands that let him know that she had lived for three and half decades, that she had aged gracefully, that she had wisdom from her experiences.

He wished he could see his own grey with such positivity. Now it just reminded him of his folly, of what he once was, of his trauma and stress.

“What’s with the look?” Yrelia said as she ate her omelet. 

“Look?” He questioned.

“Yes. It’s the one you get when you’re thinking too hard about something.” She looked at him with a smile, her laugh lines were so cute.

“I am…thinking about aging,” he said. 

“And what about aging?”

“Well,” he said and sat on the edge of the bed next to her. “I like your laugh lines,” he said and her smile grew. “And your grey hair.” 

She chuckled. “Well, I’m not so sure the more prominent grey is from aging, to be honest,” she said and started to take her hair from her braid. “Some of it is, but I did raise a child.”

Gale felt that foggy awkwardness in his chest, like he always did when she mentioned raising someone. It was strange, it really was. His love was thirty-five and she already raised a child into an adult. She had spent so much of her life raising someone while Gale was able to be young, reckless, and was able to have fun. Cyr was a well behaved, well respected young adult and it was because of Yrelia’s efforts that he was so.

Yrelia spoke to Morena and Lillian about raising children. She gave advice to Lillian so smoothly, so expertly because she had raised a child. She went through picky eating, scraped knees, and stubborn teenage years. She had wisdom that Gale would never achieve because it was something he didn’t want. He knew if Yrelia changed her mind about children that he would as well. He had thought about raising a child with her but it was just a fleeting thought. Just a simple curiosity and nothing more.

He was happy with just the two of them.

“I know,” he said softly. He reached up and took a curl into his finger. “And it’s quite admirable that you did so.”

Yrelia laughed. “I suppose,” she said. “It gave me grey hair, newfound patience, and an appreciation of peace and quiet.”

“Two of those things you need for your husband.”

She laughed again. “Darling, you are nothing compared to a fourteen year old who became so embarrassed and mad at me because I caught him trying to skinny dip with the cow farmer’s daughter.”

“What did the cow farmer say?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell him. I just told the kids that they better get dressed before they learned the meaning of naked and afraid. They did because they didn’t want him to know.” She finished her omelet. “Cyr didn’t speak with me for almost two days out of embarrassment.”

“Can’t say I’d blame him,” Gale said flatly. 

Yrelia laughed. “Well, either way, he ended up thanking me for not telling her father. Now those two kids have their own kid to raise.” 

That’s nearly six years, Gale realized. Cyr had been with Amber for six years. They were still young, of course, but it made Gale think of when he teased Yrelia about meeting each other when they were younger. He was certain that she would have been good for him. He knew that they would be together for the rest of their lives, but it didn’t stop him from wishing he had met her when he was still figuring out his life. He was certain his life would be far different.

Then again he supposed he would have become a father at that age, which Gale wouldn’t have wanted. More depressingly, he would have looked right through Yrelia if she had had Cyr on her hip despite him being her brother. And Mystra had already become his teacher, no doubt she already had plans for him in his younger twenties so…

Gale sighed and pressed a kiss into Yrelia’s temple.

“You’re thinking too hard again,” Yrelia said with a smile. “You know, my love, I don’t mind when you speak your thoughts out loud. I actually enjoy it.”

“It's nothing I would enjoy speaking about,” Gale said, hoping he didn’t sound too short with her. “I was thinking of my younger self compared to yours. You were far more mature than I was.”

Yrelia laughed. “Well, I wish I hadn’t been,” she said. “I would have loved to be reckless and have fun.” She sighed. “But that was never the life for me. It probably isn’t what the gods intended for me, either, if they even had a say in it. I stopped caring about what they thought about me long ago.” 

Gale had only very recently begun to stop caring about the gods and their whims. It’s hard to find purpose in worshiping when the goddess you dedicated your everything to wanted you dead. Now Gale had nightmares and phantom pains because the goddess he had loved so deeply abandoned him when he truly needed her.

But, he supposed, that despite the hurt, the abandonment, and the loss of his prowess, he had Yrelia now.

And Yrelia was worth all of that.

“Ah, it’s really coming down,” Yrelia said, looking out of the window in the kitchen. She wore comfortable loungewear and Gale’s housecoat.

Gale walked up behind her and looked out the window. “Hmm, so it seems,” he said. “This heavy snow does seem a bit early for the beginning of winter.” He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. He stared at the quickly falling snow with a cold wind. “How’s your hip?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she said quietly and Gale knew that was her way of saying that it could be much worse. “How are you feeling?” She asked as she leaned into him.

“Better,” he lied. “I have you to thank for that."

Paying for mistakes was a given in Gale’s life. To say he regretted the orb would be an understatement. He has carried on, however. With the orb removed and his new appreciation for life, things have improved significantly. 

The unfortunate problem was some of those side effects never completely left. Between realistic nightmares, phantom pains in his chest, and the unavoidable chronic pain he had developed, it was hard to act as if the orb hadn’t completely been erased. He knew the damned thing was removed and appearances wise the fading scars were all that was left.

If it was only that easy.

A small smile appeared on her face and her brows twitched. “All I’ve done is eat the breakfast you made for me,” she chuckled. She turned and kissed him. “I better get dressed,” she said. “I need to go to the market and pick up some ingredients for dinner. I planned on a nice, warm meal for everyone tonight.” She kissed him again.

“I’ll go,” he offered like an idiot. “There’s no need for such a beautiful lady to go out in this weather.”

Yrelia laughed. “Gale, I’ll be fine. I can handle this even if I’m not used to it.”

“My lady, I must insist,” he said like an idiot again. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “How could I not stop my darling future wife from braving this weather?” He picked up her warm and rough hands and kissed them. “I am far more accustomed to running around in this weather than you are.” Yrelia smiled at him softly. “Please, stay home and relax by the hearth, I will be back shortly.”

She stared up at him for a moment before kissing him. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said with a smile. “I want nothing more than to take care of you, Lia. If that means making a hard trek into the Trades District then that’s what I’ll do.”

Gale had to think of Yrelia’s smile and kiss as he walked through the snow. This was a particularly nasty early winter storm. Snow squalls, blistering winds, devastatingly cold temperatures, and the daylight was completely clouded over. It had him wishing that he had stayed home with her, insisting that they didn’t need this special meal to feed the two of them and their family.

He looked at the list that Yrelia had written out for him. Pumpkin, broth, leeks, cream, even more flour than they already had, no doubt she would be using the herbs, onions, and garlic from her garden, and of course the spices from the variety in the cupboard.

So she was making pumpkin soup and a loaf of bread. That sounded…heavenly. 

The idea of coming home and having a partner fix him a warm meal while he let a warm hearth sink into his bones was something he was sure he would never achieve, but here he was, buying groceries for his fiancée. Granted, he was in pain and exhausted, he probably should have just let Yrelia go shopping instead of trying to be a gentleman, but her food was always worth it.

He didn’t stop at groceries, of course. He went to the bakery, drawn in by the lovely smell of vanilla. The baker grinned at him and asked if he was buying something for Yrelia again. He offered the citrus cake and the cinnamon rolls. He even offered a nice lemon pie that Gale was certain Yrelia would love.

He decided on the citrus cake, the idea of a nice upside down cake was too nice to leave behind. 

He gathered his cake and the groceries and started on his way home. He was ready to be home. To lay his head in Yrelia’s lap as she ran her fingers through his hair. Perhaps that would make the pain and exhaustion disappear.

Today…was not a good day, he realized.

Barely any sleep, constant and annoying pain, and he was starting to understand Yrelia’s negative attitude about going out in the snow. He was used to calm days in his tower during the snow. Sitting fireside, drinking warm cider, a warm blanket over his lap while he was engaged in a book.

Yrelia had worked in cold weather, she had taken care of a child in cold weather, she had to make meals in cold weather.

Gale took in a deep and cold breath that felt like his lungs were filled with ice. Yrelia had done so much more in cold weather than he was currently. He would make it home and spend the rest of the day ignoring the pain. He’ll be fine. He could just take a potion for the pain when he arrived home.

He walked into his warm tower, the fire in the sitting room roaring. It sank into his bones, slowly but surely thawing them. He took off his hat, coat, and boots and let out a sigh.

“Lia?” He called. No answer. Gale hummed, knowing she was probably in the garden. He walked into the kitchen and placed the bag of groceries and the cake on the counter.

“Ah, Mister Dekarios, you’re home,” Tara said from the counter, standing up to stretch. “You look positively chilled to the bone!”

“It is absolutely horrid,” he grunted. “It seems Waterdeep mid-winter has become early winter.”

Tara stared at him for a moment before sighing. She opened her mouth but was interrupted by Yrelia walking into the kitchen. 

“Welcome home, love,” she said and placed her hand on his back, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He hummed and she grinned, allowing him to kiss her lips. Her sweet lips that tasted of cinnamon and coffee made his heart pound and his lips warm. Had they been alone and had he not been in pain he would have deepened the kiss, kissing her like he’d never do it again. 

But he was in an uncomfortable amount of pain. 

It wasn’t a horrible amount and he had been in far worse pain. No, this pain was subtle, it was under his skin, pricking him, his blood felt like broken glass, his lungs still felt like they were filled with ice. It was exhausting. Coupled with his aching hands had made it seem all the worse. 

So the orb permanently hurt him; chronic flare ups were hardly uncommon but then with his back that was known to spasm, his aching knees that just seemed to never go away, and then his hands, his hands, that were starting to ache and cramp more and more, he understood that perhaps he would never achieve again what he once was. 

Which he had accepted long ago and with Yrelia by his side saying she loved him as he was, that he was what she wanted, it didn’t particularly bother him. 

But he was a wizard whose hands were cramped .

How unreasonably embarrassing. 

“I made more coffee,” she said, breaking his thoughts. “You look like you need some.” 

“Yes, you are without a doubt correct,” he breathed out and walked to the carafe. “What are you making for dinner?” He asked, despite knowing what she was making. Anything to change the conversation from his current state.

“I thought I would make my pumpkin soup for you.” She grinned so cutely. “Cyr used to beg me for it all the time, even when pumpkin was out of season,” she said fondly. “I wrote down the recipe for him to make on his own but he said that it wasn’t the same,” she laughed. Gale sipped his coffee. He planted a kiss right on her forehead. She smiled. She tilted her head up and he kissed her lips. Her brows rose as they parted and she took his cold face in her hands. “Gale, you’re freezing, go stand by the fire and warm yourself.” They kissed again. 

He smiled and stepped away from her, setting aside his mug. He walked to the fire in the sitting room and stuck his hands out, feeling the heat from him. His face twitched as his hands starting to spasm. He rubbed between his index and thumb with a pained expression. 

He heard a sigh and saw Tara’s concerned expression. 

“Mister Dekarios,” she called. “You need to take better care of yourself. Have you told Miss Rosewood about your hands yet?”

Gale frowned, making a fist slowly and then releasing. “She doesn’t need to concern herself with simple matters such as this.”

Tara sighed again, this time with disapproval. “She will be most upset if she finds you’ve been hiding something from her.”

Gale was silent because he knew Tara was right. He could practically see the crease in Yrelia’s brow, the way her lips would twist into a small frown, somewhere between concern and disapproval. He didn’t answer Tara and she sighed for the third time, clearly frustrated with him. 

Yrelia walked into the sitting room with a warm but concerned smile. “You look exhausted, beloved,” she said softly. “Why don’t you rest your eyes? Everyone will be over for dinner tonight and I doubt you’ll want to deal with small children and a four month old baby while you’re tired.”

He let out a sigh because Yrelia was one hundred percent correct, but he also needed to prove to himself that he could power through all of this. It had been months since the orb was in his chest, why did it still have to plague him the way it did? And, gods, his hands really hurt.

“Lia,” he said. “I’ll be alright,” he said like the air had been stolen from his lungs.

That smile faded and her brows twitched. Something flashed her eyes that told him that she didn’t believe him. “Gale, please don’t lie to me. I only wish to help,” she said, her voice gentle but still firm. 

He swallowed and let out a breath. The idea of Yrelia being upset with him was enough to make his heart still and his stomach churn. That was far more important than any pride he managed to cling to. 

He heard Tara sigh from her spot on the couch. It was a sigh that very much told him “I told you so.” He stared at Tara annoyed and she stared at him back, a familiar parental stare letting him know she very much disapproved of his decision. He hadn’t seen it in so long…

Gale sighed, massaged his hands, and opened his mouth. “Lia,” he called her. Her brows twitched. “My lady…” he trailed off. She stared at him expectantly. “I shouldn’t hide this from you.”

She relaxed. “I know,” her gentle voice said. “I know you’ve tried to fight this for some time now, but it’s time you allow me to help you.”

Gale blinked. “You’ve known of my…issues?”

“Yes, I have.”

He stared at her, not really sure why this shocked him. Of course she knew. She was so damn smart. “I…why hadn’t you said anything…?” “Hmm, Gale, do you really think that out of the two of us I should be the one answering that question?” He bit his lip. She turned. “Come into the kitchen with me.” He did so following after her much like a hurt puppy. He watched her open the cabinet where the potions and medicine were kept. She pulled out one potion for pain and then another jar he didn’t recognize. “I went to the apothecary the other day.”

“The apothecary?"

“The apothecary,” she confirmed. “You see, my beloved, you think you can hide what’s going on, but I’m far more perceptive than you’re giving me credit for.” 

He clenched his teeth. “Lia, I hadn’t meant to make it seem like you weren’t…” he stopped talking, worried about saying the wrong thing to her. He had a talent for putting his foot in his mouth when he spoke to her.

“Gale,” she said his name like a caress to his soul. “You’re in pain. I see it in the way you breathe. The way your brows furrow together like you’re concentrating on just getting through your next step. You’ve been taking more potions for your pain lately and you’ve been trying to massage your hands without me noticing.” He looked at his hands and sighed. “Please don’t hide this from me, Gale, I’m here to help.”

He chuckled bitterly. “This is ridiculous,” he said. “You needn’t worry about me.”

“Well, that’s too bad because I’m worried about you frequently.” She walked over and handed him the pain potion. He sighed and drank it. “I have no idea what kind of pain you’re in but I know it’s not your age and not the weather. Not completely, at least. I know those two aren’t helping.” He sighed, trying not to seem as pathetic as he did. “This is something that my father uses for his arthritis,” she said. “I was able to tell the apothecary the basic components and he was able to figure it out.” She showed him the jar. 

He took the jar into his hands and looked it over. His thumb rubbed the label as he read the ingredients. Arnica, camphor, hemp, menthol, peppermint. He opened the jar and stared at the cream. He sighed. “When did you notice?"

“I noticed your hands after the orb had been stabilized,” she said. “That’s one of the reasons why I was always trying to hold them. I wanted to help in any way I could.” Gale thought back to during the quiet moments, she had always grabbed onto his hands, rubbing them, playing with them, and it had helped significantly. “I noticed your body fatigue on a day you went to the Academy. I had thought at first that it was you recovering from the adventure, just like I was doing but…it was different from me. You seemed so tired and you had taken a potion for pain right as you woke up and right before bed. I remember thinking how out of character that was for you so I paid closer attention to when you were like that. I noted the time of day, the temperature, whether it was a clear day, raining, or snowing. I evaluated your mood and how talkative you were. I also made sure to check your appetite and if you had been drinking water, which made me research what foods could help inflammation.”

He breathed. “I don’t know what to say. To know you’ve paid so much attention to my issue, how you’ve already put forth effort into helping me…my love, I am truly unworthy of you.”

“Don’t say that,” her voice was still so gentle. “You’re my love, the one I’ve chosen to be with for all eternity. Do you really think, after everything I’ve told you, that I would choose someone unworthy of me?”

“No. No, of course not. I am…simply not used to someone being so genuine with their care. Aside from my mother, of course.” Tara cleared her throat. “And Tara.”

Yrelia smiled. “I know. You deserve such care. You deserve to feel the efforts made towards you and feel nothing other than love for it.” She sighed with a tired smile. “I wish you would have told me, but I always understood why you didn’t. I didn’t want to push you to explain everything to me when this so clearly pains you.”

He sighed, nearly all of his strength leaving his body. “Yes, I…” He was silent as he stared at her, watching the encouragement on her face, the softest smile, the comforting eyes. He closed his eyes and let out a short breath. “I’m ashamed,” he whispered. He opened his eyes when she didn’t respond, knowing that she meant for him to continue. “I’ve gone from a powerful archmage to a wizard whose hands spasm and cramp. How frightfully embarrassing.”

“Oh, darling,” she said softly. She took the jar from him, her fingers brushing against his. She held his hands in hers, squeezing in a soothing way. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about, these things happen.” He sighed, wishing that it was that simple. “But it’s not just your hands, right? It is far more than that.”

“Yes,” he breathed out. “It goes far deeper than hands that like to go numb.” He frowned. “The orb changed my body. I’m still not sure how greatly it affected my body. My blood stings, my body aches, sometimes it feels like I will spiral into a heart attack because of the pain in my chest. It’s as if small needles are pricking the inside of my skin repeatedly and there’s nothing I can do about it.” He felt Yrelia squeeze his hands. “I made a foolish, awful, and nearly irreversible mistake and now it’s following me around like a demon on my back. This is so damn infuriating and I had felt that I would burden you with this knowledge. I had hoped that I could take care of myself alone rather than admit to you that I damaged my body in a lasting way.”

She took in a deep breath and let it out. “Okay,” she said and reached out for his face. “Okay,” she said again, pulling him into an embrace. “You’re not going to deal with this alone because you’re not alone. I’m here for you. For every ache and pain and for every feeling of shame and resentment, I’m here. I love you, I’m going to help, and I’m going to take care of you.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m relieved that you’re here. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

They silently stood in their kitchen at midday. Yrelia gently stroked his back and he did absolutely everything to not break down into tears. 

Overwhelming grief, guilt, and exhaustion made his heart fill with so much pain. She had known of his pain and had been trying to help him, and he had just…elected not to ask for her help. In fact, he had changed the subject almost every time she had tried to press him further. 

Yrelia pulled away and smiled softly at him. She kissed him. “Come, let me rub the salve on your hands and then you’re going to rest your eyes.”

Gale followed her into the sitting room, holding onto her hand as she led him along. Tara watched them carefully, a worried light in her eyes as she stared at him. 

They sat on the couch and Yrelia kissed his hand. She opened the jar and smelled it before gathering some on her fingers.  

“This doesn’t take much,” she explained. “I’ll show you. My mother used to rub this into my father’s hands. I watched and saw how much to apply.” She set the jar aside and held out her hand. He stared at her hands. “Darling, I don’t bite.”

“You absolutely do.”

She snorted. A bright and warm smile spread across her lips and it made his heart want to dance. “Gale, just give me your hand.” He placed his right hand into her left one. She slowly started to rub the cream on his hand. He clenched his jaw as she massaged a particularly sore spot. 

“I never thought this would happen to me,” he admitted after some silent moments. “I never thought about something so detrimental when I was young and full of ambition. How could anything stop Gale of Waterdeep? He was untouchable.”

She was silent for a moment, focusing on his hand. “When did this start happening?”

He sighed. “I can hardly remember if it was before the orb or after.” He stared at the hand she was rubbing the cream into. “I do know that after the orb it became…apparent, and when we were in the middle of our adventure it became a greater issue. We didn’t exactly have the luxury of shopping around for a balm,” he groused. His hand twitched as she rubbed it. “I’m definitely not who I once was.”

“You aren’t,” she confirmed. “But I don’t really know who you once were aside from the little bit I saw when we first met.” She looked at his face with a smile. He relaxed at her smile. “Besides, you have me to take care of you now. I think I know you well enough to know that you didn’t have someone to rub your hands for you then.”

“No. There was no one.”

“Well, because of you who are now, you have me. And I love you very much.” She leaned in and kissed his lips. “I know that this must be hard on you, but at least now I’m here to take care of you. And remember, I’m always willing to fuss over you. I’ll continue to take care of you everyday, every tenday, every month, and every year that passes us by. Even when we’ve left this world after all our years together, I will find you and continue to take care of you.”

A small smile appeared on his lips. “All our years…” he said lightly. “To think after all this time I’m thinking about growing old, let alone growing old along with someone.” He sighed. “Aging is complicated,” he said to her. She cocked her head. “A chosen of Mystra typically is granted immortality.”

She rubbed his hand, her rough fingers so delicately caressing his skin. “I see.” She had a thoughtful look on her face. She rubbed his wrist with her thumb. A small smile grew on her lips. “Immortality seems lonely, don’t you think?” She asked. “You live forever, but won't the people you love always die?”

“I’ve never thought of it that way, I suppose,” he said. “I was so sure I deserved it. Think of everything I could accomplish with that time. All the power I could accumulate. It never once occurred to me that things would go so poorly.”

She was thoughtfully silent, the way she always was when he spoke about his past and how he used to be. He could see the wheels turning in her mind, thinking of what to say and how to say it. “And you didn’t find any of it lonely?”

“No,” he said with a sad smile. “I had Mystra and Elminster when he decided to show up hungry. Tara, as well, but I had removed her loss from my mind. Of course, once the orb was in my chest I realized how alone I actually was. Even Tara hadn’t been around as often as I had wanted as she was out looking for artefacts for me.” He watched as a sad look grew in her eyes, knowing that she knew exactly how lonely he had felt, because her loneliness haunted her the way it haunted him. “I love you,” he professed. “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome, beloved,” she smiled. “I’m happy to do this for you. What is love if not taking care of each other?” He watched her face as she rubbed his hand, putting pressure down on rough spots. “Now,” she said when she released his hands. “I’ll make sure we keep this stocked up for you. Just ask me whenever you need it and I’ll rub it into your hands.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. 

“You’ve already thanked me,” she said and kissed his wrist. 

“I know, but you deserve to hear it again,” he said. “And you are right, I was unsatisfied with my life before. Almost everyone I knew wasn’t enough for me,” he sighed. “But you…” he breathed. She was his everything. He cupped her cheek. “I love you, more than I ever thought I was capable of. If all this despair and heartache I’ve gone through means that I met you then it was all worth it. I would go through it all again if it meant you would be here to rub a salve into my hands.”

She blinked. “Truly? Everything?”

“Without a doubt, yes.”

She stared at him silently, clearly thinking about what he said. She let out a breath and then smiled. “I feel the same about you. You’re worth everything to me.”

Gale pulled her in and kissed her. He told her over and over he loved her with his kiss. He loved her more than anything, more than he had ever loved Mystra, more than he could comprehend. He let out an exhausted breath and Yrelia smiled. “It appears that I am more fatigued than I had initially realized,” he mumbled.

“Then I must insist that you take a nap,” Yrelia declared.

She stood up and walked to the armoire where all of the blankets that she had been collecting were. She pulled out a blue wool blanket and walked back over to him. He let out another tired sigh and she leaned in and kissed his forehead. He hardly remembered laying down or Yrelia spreading the blanket over him. He had fallen asleep quickly, only feeling Tara laying on him at some point.

There was faint tapping and clinking of dishware, there was the smell of woodsmoke, and there was the warmth of the hearth. They were all so calming sensations. It made his tower feel like a home. Noises, feelings, smells; things he hadn’t understood he had missed while being a Chosen.

He remembered comforting nights in his mother’s house during the winter. He remembered holidays where almost all of the Dekarios clan came together, drank wine, and celebrated. He remembered being young, still a bit of a scamp, meeting new people, hoping that he would one day find a love to bring to his mother’s house and to family holiday parties. 

He hoped to forget the feeling he had while involved with Mystra. That feeling of thinking that all of those memories of warmth and family, of love and care, was something he no longer cared for. How could a Chosen and lover of the goddess of mysteries ever want anything else? How could anything be better than that?

Gale hummed when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He blinked open his eyes and stared at Yrelia’s kind face. He looked her over. She wore a green wool cardigan over a white button up top and a white bow around her neck. Her green, plaid skirt came to her knees. Her hair was nicely curled and half up with a green ribbon. She even had a bit of makeup on.

She wore her union ring around her neck over her clothes. It settled nicely on her chest, proudly displayed as if it was a medal of honor.

“Forgive me, my love,” she said with an apologetic smile. “Everyone will be arriving in a little over an hour. I thought it would be best to wake you so you could get ready.”

“You’re right,” he said while he stretched. “I appreciate you waking me.” Yrelia’s smile grew as he sat up. He reached out for her face, caressing the soft skin of her cheek. “Your outfit is quite sweet.”

She chuckled. “You think?” She took her skirt in her hands and spread it out. “I saw this whole outfit in a thrift shop and I thought it was cute so decided to try it on.” She grinned. “And it fits perfectly.”

“You look lovely,” he said and she smiled. “Now I must decide what to wear so that we both look appealing. I wouldn’t want to look a disheveled mess compared to your magnificent beauty.”

Yrelia laughed. “Darling, I think out of the two of us you are the one who has far more well put together outfits. I’m still trying to fill the closet with clothes I like and also clothes that fit.”

“In due time,” he said and kissed her. “I will be just a moment. I will rinse off, get ready, and come down to help you in any way I can.”

It was when Gale was almost half way up the stairs did he realize how wonderful his tower smelled. A fresh loaf of garlic herb bread, caramelized onions, salt, nutmeg, and mulled wine. He nearly felt guilty about not helping Yrelia cook their meal for their little get-together but he had desperately needed to rest his eyes.

He showered and dried off. He stared at his clothes, wondering if there was anything similar to Yrelia’s so that they could look like they planned their outfits. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much that matched his love, aside from a whimsical emerald green sweater that had some golden thread stitched patterns. 

He grabbed a green ribbon from Yrelia’s vanity after he was dressed and walked to the kitchen. He watched Yrelia at the stove, leaning over the pot of mulled wine. She hummed softly as she took a whiff of the concoction, then she tasted it. She picked up a jar of cinnamon sticks and threw another in. She stirred, still while humming and with an absolutely breathtaking smile on her face.

She blinked and looked at him, her smile warming him far better than the stove. “You’ve caught me staring into the wine,” she chuckled. 

“I caught you mulling over the wine.”

Yrelia snorted.

As he started to walk to her she started speaking again. “I used to make this,” she said. “When I was younger the woman I was in love with taught me how to make it. I would make it for my friends before they moved away,” she explained. Gale leaned in and kissed her nose. “There’s also some cider for Amber and Cyr. He may be an adult now but he still hasn’t grown into alcohol.” She laughed softly. 

Gale took her hands and pulled her away from the stove. He lifted her hand and twirled her, her skirt dancing as she did. “And now you’re making it for our family. I’m sure everyone will be pleased with your wine,” he said and her smile grew.

“Hopefully it’s to everyone’s taste,” she said as he placed his hand on her hip and then started to sway. “Now that I’m here, I have new spices to play with. I wouldn’t have believed anyone who told me I’d one day own multiple sticks of cinnamon, let alone anise.”

Gale hummed. “It smells wonderful, my sun. Though, I wish you would have woken me. I could have assisted in your merry kitchen.”

Yrelia laughed and took her hand from his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I didn’t want to wake you,” she said with a concerned smile. “And how are you feeling?”

“Better,” he admitted. “Still sore, but it’s hardly what it was before.”

“Good.” She kissed him again. “I also had the apothecary make a new bath soak for you.”

“Apothecary?” He questioned, feeling like he was repeating himself. “Why not the soap maker or the perfumer?”

“Because it’s a medicated soak,” she explained and pulled away. “It will be good to help ease your pain.”

“Something your father also uses?”

“Not just him, I used it as well. Working long hours doing manual labor is pretty painful,” she said with a soft sigh.

“And how has your pain been since living with me?”

“Much more manageable,” she said with a smile. “I think there are parts of me that are permanently damaged but for the most part I’m doing far better.” She leaned in and kissed him. “Now I can have you use the soak, hopefully it helps,” she said before her brows knit together and a worried smile spread on her lips. “Of course, I have no idea if it will. Your pain is far different than my own.”

That was a very good point, Gale realized. Much like how the orb changed him, how it corrupted and contaminated him, it wasn’t a “natural” pain. It wasn’t pain from overworking, it wasn’t pain from a blade, it wasn’t even something as truly excruciating as a paper cut, it was a magical effect within his body, within his blood. Bile, toxic waste, corrosion; his body dissolving from the inside out.

The punishment for his hubris will follow him around for the rest of his life, even possibly after death. 

“Gale?” Yrelia called, that worried expression became more intense and her smile faded away.

He gently took her hand. “I’m alright,” he said but it sounded far more full of ridiculous and unnecessary despair. Which of course only made her more worried. Gale swore that half of their relationship was the two of them worrying about each other. He brought her hand to his chest and placed her hand over his heart. “I’m alright,” he repeated softly, far more calm and confident than before. She let out a sigh. “I hope that it does work,” he said. “But let’s not give each other false hope.”

Yrelia removed her hand from his chest and reached for his face. She pulled him down so that his forehead rested against hers. “Whatever it takes, I will make this easier for you. Even if I have to slay a dragon or two.”

He chuckled. “Well you certainly won’t be doing that on your own. A wizard at hand is good luck, you know.” Yrelia smiled softly, accepting his kiss. “I love you,” he kissed her again. The doorbell rang. “And it seems the first of our guests have arrived. Here,” he pulled the green ribbon out of his pocket. “Do you mind?”

Yrelia grinned. “Not at all. Turn around, I’ll make you look very pretty.”

The evening was…it was magnificent. It was a warm hearth, joyous laughter, and overwhelming love. The food and drink were perfect, and Morena and Lillian teased him quite a bit about Yrelia being the one to make their meals and drinks while he took a nap. 

“My word! Are you being a chauvinist, Gale? I thought I raised you better than that.”

And,

“Oh, Lia, you need to squash this behavior early. Make him do all the dishes on his own!”

Yrelia had laughed and rubbed Gale’s arms as he sighed in defeat. They ate cake and Yrelia pulled out a nice sherry and poured it for everyone except Amber and Cyr. Yrelia brought them more cider but not without laughing at her brother for still having the taste buds of a kid. 

Gale realized how happy Yrelia was. He watched her glow. Her perfect pink lips had an almost permanent smile and her eyes were shining like starlight. As Gale watched her he realized that this was everything she had wanted while alone on her farm. She wanted a family who loved her, friends who enjoyed her company. He knew it would take years to rid her of her impulse to overwork and take care of everything, but she seemed so happy to host such a gathering. 

Gale was able to give her something that she had deeply longed for in her loneliness. He did that. He had given her something to make her float on air. He could scarcely believe that someone as unworthy as him was able to make the one he loved so dearly enjoy her life. 

“Ah, beloved, there you are,” Yrelia said with a grin as she walked into the kitchen with two empty bottles of alcohol. Gale wiped his misty eyes and smiled at her. She blinked, setting aside the bottles and walking towards him. She reached out for his face. “Now I know that’s not faux happiness on your face,” she said and nuzzled his nose.

“No, it’s quite real,” he chuckled and took her elbows in his hands. A large, content smile grew on his face. Just a small moment where they left their guests. He was sure they would understand that he needed a small moment with his fiancée. 

Yrelia’s smile grew and she rubbed her nose against his. “I love you. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

And he was. In the midst of happiness, warmth, and good food, his pain had subsided. He didn’t feel like hunching over in pain and the numbness in his hands had disappeared. “I have you to thank for that, my love. I will find a way to properly express my gratitude to you.”

Yrelia grinned. “Oh, my love, I believe I’ve already told you what I desire from you.”

“More kisses, yes? I think I can accommodate that.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. Just a sweet, chaste kiss that made his heart swell.

Yrelia’s affectionate smile graced her lips. It was one that he knew was just for him, he had only seen it as she gave it to him. She took his hand. “Come, beloved, let’s say goodbye to your family. I’m having Cyr and Amber stay in the guest room tonight. I’m afraid I will not allow them to walk home with their daughter as the snow picks up.”

“Yes, of course, my darling.”

Gale watched as Yrelia stood at the balcony windows in their bedroom looking radiant. The full moon shone through the window and reflected off the snow and some drift globes had found their way to his tower. They illuminated her body through the sheer robe he had gifted her to tease her. Gale swallowed as he stared at her, this beautiful woman in his bedroom, staring out of his windows. Her long hair traveled down her back, past her hips, and the curve of her sides looked absolutely irresistible. 

He let out a heavy breath and walked towards her. He gently took her hips in his hands, pulling her against him. “Tell me,” he breathed in her ear, “what could be on your mind as you stare out at the sea?”

She turned in his arms and took his face in her hands. She rubbed his cheeks with her thumbs. “You’re on my mind,” she said before pulling him in for a long kiss. She pulled away slowly, breathing on his lips. “I love you,” she whispered to his lips. She kissed him, running her fingers through his hair. 

He wrapped his arms around her, holding onto her firmly. The way she felt in his arms was so intimately unreal that he spent a not insignificant amount of time trying to convince himself that this was real, that she was real. And it hit the hardest after nightmares like the one he had the previous night. He pulled away and stared at her with stars in his eyes. He loved her, he was so completely and utterly at her feet, he loved her.

She blinked before smiling. “Don’t look at me like that,” she chuckled softly. “You’re going to make me feel important.”

He nipped her bottom lip. “It seems I’ll have to put in more effort if you don’t already feel that way.”

She laughed as he kissed her. She hummed as he untied her robe, letting it fall loose against her body. He absolutely, unequivocally loved this woman. He loved her kiss and her tongue. He loved the softness of her breasts and the curve of her hips. Everything about her drove him wild. 

He oh so gently started to push her back towards the windows. She broke the kiss and breathed. “Gale, don’t you-” He cut her off with another kiss. He smirked against her lips as he pressed her against the window. She practically jumped as her body touched the cold windows. He laughed as she stared at him. “Oh my gods,” she pushed off the window and his laughter grew louder. “You know, I’m sure the neighbors got a nice look at my ass, Gale of Waterdeep.” He grinned and she sighed. “You better be glad you’re cute,” she said as she leaned in again.

“Everyday I thank my lucky stars that I am.” He accepted her kiss with a grin. “I must say,” he started when she pulled away. “The way you look is intoxicating.”

“Intoxicating?” She questioned.

“Hm? Would you prefer another word? I do have many of those.” She snorted. “Let’s see exhilarating, pleasing, charming, enchanting…” he grinned at her laughter. “I am completely in awe of your beauty in the moonlight. Utterly enraptured.” 

“So you say,” she said with a giggle. “Truth be told, I would like to not be by the cold window anymore.” She stepped forward and he took a step back. He reached out for the heavy curtains and closed them over the windows. The moonlight disappeared from the room and all that lit up their bedroom was the low burning hearth.

He waved his hand and a gossamer hand started adding more wood to the fire. Yrelia hummed and Gale couldn’t but stare at her. Such a difference was the warm firelight compared to the cool moonlight. The moonlight was godly, it was ethereal. It had made her eyes and skin glow in an otherworldly way.

But the firelight…

The firelight brought warmth to her eyes, it made her skin beg to be touched. She looked ravishing and welcoming. She looked raw, warm, human . Even his feelings of insecurity seemed to vanish when he stared at her in the warm light.

“I love you,” he breathed. He took her elbows in his hands and pulled her with him towards the bed.

She smiled at him. “I love you, too.” He sat down on the bed. She took his face in her hands and kissed him. “And it seems that you have something on your mind,” she said lightly as he pushed off her sheer robe.

“My lady, you’re not so subtle yourself,” he said. 

“Oh?” 

“You are, no, were wearing that robe, and you typically always try to seduce me when you do.”

She blinked. “Do I?”

“Based on the evidence…”

“Alright, I’m going to have to mix up what I wear then. I’m thinking of something totally different, perhaps a baggy pair of pants?” They laughed as he laid down and pulled her on top of him. She straddled his lap and smiled so softly down at him. “You know, we’ll have to be quiet since Cyr and Amber are sleeping downstairs.”

“This is my own home,” he said with faux protest and she chuckled. He grabbed her hips. “I’m suddenly remembering last spring in a terribly uncomfortable tent where you had to tell me that we needed to be quiet every time.”

Yrelia laughed again. “Oh, that’s not very accurate, is it? You wouldn’t let me be on top then.” 

She snorted loudly when he blushed a deep red. “My lady .” She snorted again. “I don’t take kindly to being made fun of.” He sighed as she laughed. “That was because it had been so long and I was so in love with you that the night would have ended far too quickly if you had been on top of me.”

She grinned and had a wild look in her eyes. “Then we should have done that position more often. I know I would have been happy about it.”

“Lia,” he let out an exasperated sigh and she laughed, “I’ll have you know that I wanted to spend as much time as I could trying to make you come undone rather than skipping to the finale.”

“Yes, I remember how enthusiastic you were,” she giggled softly. She reached out and lifted his shirt above his head. “And how nervous you were.”

“That circles back around to being completely in love with you.” He reached up and cupped her cheek. “The last thing I wanted was to disappoint you.” 

Yrelia giggled. “You’d never disappoint me, my love,” she said warmly. “I was also completely in love with you, if you recall.” Gale smiled up at her and accepted her kiss. “Now remember, Gale, you are quite tired and need to relax. So the least you can do is lie back and let me take care of you.”

He laughed, grabbing her hips and squeezing. He gave in to her and her touch. Who was he to argue with the beautiful woman who he loved so dearly? The one that looked so magnificent. The way she moved and breathed and moaned his name as she came undone while on top of him. Good gods, he absolutely loved her. 

“How are you feeling, beloved?” Yrelia asked softly, her voice soft but strong

“Much better,” Gale mumbled to Yrelia’s skin. His face was buried in her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair. The rise and fall of her chest relaxed him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said. “Get some sleep, Gale, we’ll see how you feel in the morning.”

He placed a lazy kiss on her skin in response, too tired to say anything. He breathed for a moment, his eyes closing. He swiftly fell asleep in her arms, settling into a dreamless sleep.

He blinked his eyes open and breathed for a moment. He felt…good. Still a bit sore, like his body was still sleeping off the pain, but he felt good . He looked around the room and saw that Yrelia was not in bed. He started to get out of bed when the door opened.

“Good morning, my love,” Yrelia greeted from the bedroom door with a tray of food. “Now I have brought you breakfast. We still had some pumpkin left from the soup I made so I made you some pumpkin ricotta toast. There are also two soft boiled eggs, a wonderful cup of tea that will help with inflammation, and some nice crispy bacon.” She walked over and kissed the top of his head. She placed the tray in his lap and kissed his temple.

“My lady, you’re quite the wonder,” he said dreamily, thinking that she must be from some dream or fantasy of his. “Have you eaten?”

“I did with Cyr but I will stay with you as you eat.”

“Good, because I believe I owe you many good morning kisses. Thousands of them in fact.”

Yrelia laughed. “And I can’t wait to receive them!”

Gale sighed so joyfully. Yrelia sat next to him, wrapping her arm around him and rubbing his shoulder. He loved her. He loved her so completely, so deeply. He felt refreshed thanks to her. He felt more energetic due to her fussing over him.

And he knew that thousands of good morning kisses were just the start of his gratitude and celebration.

[icantpickafictionalman]

New flesh

Adam x Fem!Reader

A/n : you remember that scene in stranger things season 3 where El gets a piece of the mind flayer stuck in her leg, and she uses her powers to get it out? Yeah, it's that (kinda)

Context : Reader is a different kind of seraphim, one capable of chaos beyond anything imaginable. She could bring universes to downfall, and despite her mighty power being forbidden to use, decided so by Sera, the head seraphim, there come times when it is the only answer. Although readers powers span as far as collapsing worlds, a given is her talents when it comes to telekinesis. During the battle in ep8, we see reader draw the final straw, and give into her powers.

Tags: heavy gore, Angst, knifes, descriptive injuries and pain

(PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE)

"Wait!" Adam screamed, as he watched his lover, who had come to help in the battle, descend into her truest form. (Name), one of the angelic seraphim, was powerful. So powerful, that she would hurt herself in the process of using her powers.

When she had fully reached her chaotic form, a bright light blinded almost everyone watching. All of hell experienced momentary sunrise, and even heaven saw a bright, white flash.

The battle was done. Everyone had been stopped, however, as (name) fell to the floor, Adam rushed to her side. Soon, everyone gathered to watch.

"What- what the fuck were you thinking?!What have you done?!" Adam screamed in between fast and short breaths, just now noticing the huge gash of flesh ripped out of (Name)'s knee.

"I'm- I'm fine! Fuck- Aeugh!" She cried out, pain soaking through her skin and forming itself into words. "Where does it hurt?!" He yelled, trying his best to put an end to his beloved's anguish. "Everywhere! Fucking- Adam it's in me!" She screamed, throwing her head back so that she didn't have to look at the golden blood pouring out of her leg any longer. "What? What the fuck do you mean 'it's' fucking in you! What is!?" Experiencing pain beyond imagine, all (name) could muck up the strength to do was point to her leg. When Adam looked, he saw a lump, moving around under (name)'s skin, making its way from the bottom of the wound, to further up her leg. "Fucking Christ! What the-! I need, I need something to get it out of her!" Nearby, Adam watched as Nifty pulled out a knife and offered it to Adam. "Fuck, yeah okay!" Turning back to (name), he held her hand. "Look, this is only gonna hurt for-" but he was cut off by (name)'s excruciating cries. "Get it out! Get it out of me!" Wincing, Adam held the knife at an angle, and began slidinb the knife down from the top of her leg to the opening of the gash, trying to push the creature out, but it just wouldn't work. "I'm gonna have to cut your leg, you'll be okay, just.. oh fuck!" Adam tried his best not to hurt her, but piercing her with a knife and slowly making the hole bigger was no use. "Fuck, fuck just- just let me- Agh! Let me do it!" Adam threw the knife to the side, not wanting to cause her any more pain. Slowly, (name) raised her hands above the wound, and started to focus, until, the creature could be seen being dragged slowly but surely back down to the wound. As (name) continued to wail, everyone around her was silent. But more specifically, Adam was silent. He was shocked. Scared. Confused. Suddenly, as (name) gave one last blood-curdling scream, the creature was released from her leg, and immediately Adam pounced at it with the knife. He couldn't even say anything. Just grunt, as he tortured and pulverised the creature who had caused his love such suffering. (Name) was silent too, partly recovering, partly stunned. She had never seen Adam so... violent.

As the two left, Adam carried (name) through the portal back to heaven, and made sure to find her immediate medical attention.

"I don't know how you done it." He whispered, sitting next to her hospital bed where she lay, drifting in and out of sleep.

"Done what?"

"Yanked that thing out of you like it was nothing. I struggled to get it out of you myself. Must've hurt like hell."

"It's better now."

"You sure?"

"Promise."

"I love you."

"I love you too Adam."

[slothquisitor]

What Moves in the Dark: Chapter Four

A post-campaign Baldur's Gate 3 eldritch horror AU.

Chapter Summary: Liv and Astarion continue their investigation at the Wide.

Read from the beginning.

Read on A03.

_______________________________________________________

Liv can’t get away from Astarion fast enough. She barely gets the shop door locked behind her and up the stairs to her apartment before she collapses on her hands and knees. She’s been shaky since the fight, since the rush of adrenaline had faded and the horror of what she’d done had sunk in. She’d volunteered to go get the Fist to get away from the harrowing scene as quickly as possible. Once she was sure Astarion wouldn’t notice, she’d ducked into an alleyway to pathetically retch against the stone wall. 

There has always been much in Liv’s life that was out of her control, but her magic was never one of those things. She calls and it answers. She has spent her whole life learning magic, studying spell theory, practicing drawing on that well of power within her. Her magic is an extension of herself. There is something comforting about a spell, about the precision required. Say the right words, form the correct somatic gestures, and the outcome is always what is expected. She has always liked owning that sort of control.

So, of course, she had known that her magic could be used to destroy, to snuff out life. But it is one thing to know that and another entirely to hear a person’s screams as her fire scorches their skin, burning them alive. She had told herself it wasn’t killing when it was mind flayers, that it was in self-defense, that mind flayers might have once been people but weren’t in those terrifying moments when they transformed and attacked. But those cultists, she hadn’t even tried to reason with them. Did they deserve to die? They were people, with entire universes: friends, families, people who cared about them. When had she become judge, jury, and executioner? 

It’s difficult to breathe on her apartment floor. Her heart is racing, and she can’t seem to get enough air. She wonders for a moment if she’s dying before she realizes dimly that she’s having a panic attack. It’s funny, even knowing what is happening doesn’t seem to stop it. She’s home and she’s safe, but she can’t quite seem to convince her body of that. It’s been months since the last attack like this, and she feels a profound sort of disappointment in herself. Why isn’t she past this?

She presses her hands more fully into the rough wood of the floorboards to the point of pain, feeling every bit of the wood grain. She focuses on her breathing, letting this thing run its course. At least she’s alone. There’s nothing worse than an audience when you’re falling apart. 

When it’s finally over, she kicks off her boots, shrugs out of her cloak, and crawls right into bed. She doesn’t care that she’s still fully dressed because her bed feels safe and secure and she just needs a moment to come to terms with what she’s done. With who she is now. 

Those cultists had come to them with the intent to kill them. And Astarion hadn’t hesitated to draw his daggers. She fought effectively, she can acknowledge that much. But she hopes he didn’t realize just how much it affected her. He’d known something was off, of that much she’s sure. He had stared at her like she was something fragile, liable to break. She can’t let him see just how out of her depth she is here, doesn’t want to risk being sidelined. She’s spent her whole life being told she’s not capable, not competent enough. Moving here, helping at the shop, it’s shifted things somewhat. She gets to be someone else, gets to be free from the expectations, or lack thereof. But she doesn’t want Astarion thinking she can’t hold her own. Because she can. She’s fine. 

She’d tried to keep from looking at him. Her mother’s voice had been echoing in her head, telling her that her emotions are always evident on her face. Tomorrow night she’ll be better. A lifetime as a Vires has taught her more than just magic: she knows how to pretend to be unaffected. 

But tonight she doesn’t have to, so she cries into her pillow until she falls asleep. 

In the morning, she wakes up and opens the shop like she didn’t just kill two people the night before. She eats freshly baked blueberry muffins that Wynn sent with Kharis, and she lies when he asks her about her night. They have a few of their usual customers and some new faces, and Liv whiles away the hours studying books on healing magic and blood diseases, writing down notes, and wishing for a larger selection of tomes to choose from. She closes the shop, and Kharis bids her goodnight. 

And the world doesn’t end. In fact, for all of her panic of the night before, she feels…steadier now. She’s not necessarily interested in getting into another fight, but she’s been thinking about how she could have incapacitated instead of killed, and the guilt has faded. It’s been replaced with a grim determination to do better next time, to not lose her head. To prove that she can do this. 

With sunset not far off, she sets off for the Wide. The Upper City has a strict curfew, but it’s the warm season and a fine evening, so she expects the Bailiff won’t begin clearing the market until the stars appear in the sky. She’d been in such a hurry the night before that she and Astarion hadn’t made plans for where to meet, so she just wanders the crowds, looking for any sign of his silver-white hair.  

The Wide is always busy, crowded with the din of people and smells and business. When she was a child, the Wide had seemed to be the most beautiful and glamorous of places. Colorful stalls to browse, exotic goods to buy, and above it all the beacons of the pole-carters weaving through the crowd, goods attached to tall poles that darted in and out of the maze of people.

The Wide is no less magical now, but it’s Liv who’s changed. The press of people no longer seems exciting, but rather oppressive, and the stalls are still beautiful, but she wonders if it might just be a lot less work to buy from somewhere else in the city. She’s not sure when the shift occurred when a place like the Wide is no longer touched by promise and possibility and instead feels irrevocably tainted with the grime of the city. 

She’s turning a corner to wander down another crowded line of stalls when Astarion falls into step beside her with such a suddenness it makes her jump. “And here I didn’t think you’d show up.” He’s smiling, but it’s a sharp thing, full of briars and teeth. The comfortability they’d sunk into the night before is gone now. A small, quiet part of her that remembers exactly what he is whispers: run. 

“It’ll take more than a few Bhaalists to scare me off,” she replies, voice firm and even. She keeps her chin high and maintains eye contact as if challenging him to tell her she’s not cut out for this. 

Her response doesn’t seem to be what he’s expecting, his eyebrows raise in surprise. “Well, I believe we have a job to do and not much time to do it?”

“After you.”

Astarion leads them down a wide, crowded aisle. And she’s once again baffled at how she didn’t know him for exactly what he is when he first entered the shop. He moves with a preternatural grace that no one could mistake for mere mortal. He’s wearing the same clothing as the night she met him, fine and expensive, but this close she can see the way the golden thread of the embroidery is unraveling. 

 “So, say we do manage to find someone who meets our…parameters, what exactly is your plan then?” he asks lightly. 

“I figured we’d talk to them, tell them what’s going on, and ask them for a sample.”

He laughs. “Darling, take it from someone who knows, most people aren’t quick to offer up their blood simply because they’re asked. Besides, do you really want to incite panic in the common folk?”

“Gods no. I didn’t think we’d tell them everything, just enough. But…I suspect if someone…meets our parameters they’ll also have other symptoms. I brought tinctures and potions and balms.” Her bag is packed with anything she might need, including needles and vials. She also prepped a few more offensive spells, just in case. But she doesn’t tell him that. 

“So what? Free healing for blood?”

“I’ve heard of worse deals in the Wide.”

“And if diplomacy and bribing don’t work, I can always knock them out and drag them into an alley for you.” The smile he gives her is all fangs, eyes bright. She realizes then that there’s some part of him that revels in the chaos; he’d enjoyed the fight last night. 

She’d been so caught up in trying to hide her own reaction, she hadn’t been paying attention to him. But now that she plays it back, she can see it, the smile he’d tossed her at the end, the self-satisfied way he’d drained the cultist before realizing she’d seen. She wants to ask him about it, but she doesn’t. 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Oh, you’re no fun,” he complains and then seems to consider his own words before turning to her more fully. “But really, you’re no fun at all, are you? This is three evenings we’ve spent together and you haven’t mentioned a single plan to move or engagement to reschedule. You’re too young to never have plans.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not that young, and how do you know that my social calendar isn’t just very flexible?”

But she’s simply confirmed his suspicions rather than refuting them and she knows it by the way he smirks and leans conspiratorily toward her. “Forgive my assumptions, what plans did you put off to be with me this evening then?” There’s an amusement in his eyes, and she wants to play along, laugh and joke and flirt back. 

She doesn’t.

There’s something about the way he flirts that feels like it is borne more out of habit than any real feeling. So, she sidesteps it entirely. “Are you paying any attention to the people around us? The Bailiff is going to close this all down very soon.”

“Please darling, I’m very good at multitasking.” He puts emphasis on the last word, says it like a promise. 

Somehow, she very much doubts that. “I could say the same about you though. You’ve also not complained about moving any plans around.”

“My social calendar is very flexible. As am I.” He flashes her a grin, to which she responds by looking unimpressed. He sighs and grimaces, waving his hand in defeat. “If you must know, since we defeated the Absolute, I’ve found myself a little at a loss for how to spend my time.”

Liv adds this moment to the tally she’s subconsciously keeping of the times he’s dropped the too-smooth facade, when she glimpses through the cracks something that feels real. That feels true. She refuses to wonder what game they’re playing or why she’d even want to keep this tally at all though. “Understandable. What were you doing before?”

He looks away from her, scanning the crowd. “Bending the knee to my master’s every whim. So no, I will not be going back to what I was doing before.”

She’s said the exact wrong thing, and she can feel his defenses building back up. She scrambles for some way to save this moment, to prolong the truth of it. “I’m sorry, I-”

But then he freezes, head twisting to the right. “There it is…”

“Really?” 

He pauses and then turns down a crowded alley. “This way.”

She sticks close to him as he weaves through the crowd. He’s walking with intense focus, nostrils flaring as the people move around them like some slow-moving river. He pauses in front of a stall, covered in a canvas of deep blue. The counter is a collection of meticulously organized wooden plates and bowls and other carved goods. The two women at the stall look tired, bored even, as they converse quietly. There’s no one giving the stall a second glance. 

“I think it’s her, with the dark hair,” Astarion says. “I’ll need to get closer to be sure.”

“We can just watch for a moment,” Liv says. 

The two of them pretend to peruse the goods offered at a spice stall across the way while taking turns watching the women. No one makes a purchase at their stall, though a few people stop to admire a plate or utensil. While they watch, several young people dart in and out of the closed-off portion of the stall. 

“What are they doing?” Liv asks under her breath. 

“I’ll find out.” Quick as a whisper, Astarion makes his way toward the stall, but somewhere in the crowd, she loses him entirely. She doesn’t want to draw undue attention to him or the stall in question, so she continues to browse the nearby stalls, keeping an eye out for any sign of Astarion. 

A few moments later he reappears at her side, flickering into view like a specter. “Well, what are the chances that the one person we find with questionable blood is also fronting a stall for the Guild?”

***

Astarion had thought it was going to be more difficult to suss out what was going on in that stall, but the second he’d slipped inside, he’d recognized the man at a table: Uktar. The same man who had told Tavren about Minsc and the Counting House. Bursar to the Guildmaster, and he was sitting in a stall taking payments run in by children who could skirt the marketplace more easily than any adult. 

Uktar’s blood had smelled fine, it was just the woman’s at the stall that seemed off. Something about this is ringing alarm bells in his head, but he’s still not quite sure what about it feels off. Uktar hadn’t liked their group but had seemed at least marginally grateful to not have been killed by the Zhentarim, so he hopes that goodwill will extend a little further because Liv is already walking over to the stall. 

He grabs at her arm, pulling her back towards him. “What are you doing? We need a plan.”

Liv pulls away a bit, and he releases her. “I have a plan; I’m going to talk with her.”

“Have you ever dealt with the Guild? This isn’t going to work.”

She sighs. “The first person who died was a runner for the Guild.”

Ah, he sees the connection now. She’s going to leverage it. It would be nice to have all of the information at some point, but it’s clear Liv is playing some things rather close to the chest. He tries to disguise his annoyance, but he’s sure he’s not successful at it. “Well then, you hardly need me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Without you, I wouldn’t even know they were members of the Guild.” 

Before he can reply, she approaches the stall and offers a friendly smile to the woman. “Hello.”

The woman smiles in response, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s glancing between him and Liv with suspicion while the other woman remains silent and watchful beside her. “Can I interest you in some hand-carved plates and bowls? Artisan made.” She sounds like the worst salesperson in existence. Is this really the best front the Guild can muster?

“I’m actually here to see if you might be Alfran’s friend?” Liv asks, her voice is light and the question is asked gently, but the effect on the woman is immediate. 

The woman’s smile drops. “I don’t know who you’re referring to.” It’s a clear lie. 

Liv’s calm demeanor doesn’t falter. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to scare you. My name is Liv. I’m a healer; I was treating Alfran.”

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” the woman replies simply. 

The other woman is doing a better job of looking aloof, but it’s clear that this exchange hasn’t gone the way they expected. “If you’re not here to buy, kindly fuck off.”

This is going south very quickly. He’s pretty sure if this woman holds fast, Liv won’t press, and he’s getting impatient. “Come now, we’re not with the Fist. The disease that killed Alfran, we think you might also have it. Do you know him now?”

Liv’s glaring at him, but he simply shrugs. The woman’s demeanor changes from suspicion to fear. “What do you mean you think I’m sick?”

“This is much easier to explain somewhere more private.” Liv is oscillating between trying to calm the woman and looking like she wants to set him aflame. He flashes her a gleeful smile. 

The woman nods to the back of the stall. “Come on back then. If you knew Alfran, then you know who we work for.”

They follow her into the back area that Astarion’s already explored. Uktar is sitting at a low table, small pouches of money spread out in front of him. He has a book open and a quill and is marking down amounts. His mask glints in the candlelight. 

“Ah, you again. Come to sell me more keys?” Uktar says. 

“You know these two?” the woman asks, clearly surprised. 

Uktar looks between Astarion and Liv, but he’s difficult to read through the mask. “I know the elf. We’ve done business.” 

“Well, good. Now we don’t have to kill you,” the woman says. 

Astarion refrains from pointing out that he’s pretty sure that Uktar couldn’t hurt a fly since he’d cowered during the entire fight with the Zhentarim. But that wouldn’t help, so he keeps his mouth shut. 

“I’m feeling at a bit of a disadvantage here,” Liv says with a strained smile. 

“I’m Moira and that’s Uktar. Now tell me why you think I’m sick.”

“Your blood. It smells awful,” Astarion offers helpfully. 

Uktar laughs from his desk. “I’d trust that one on that,” he says giving him a significant look. 

Moira, for her part, seems to miss the implication. “My blood smells bad? How…”

Liv steps in then, guiding them away from this particular topic. “I think Alfran died of a blood disease. I’d like to take a sample of your blood if that’s okay. Have you been feeling odd lately? Headaches, dizziness, ringing in the ears?”

Moira shrugs. “A little, but that’s normal when my monthlies are approaching. Right? Listen, I can’t be sick, not like Alfran was. I’ve got to work.”

“That’s why I’m here, by the time Alfran came to us it was too late. We’re hoping we can help you sooner if you’ve even got the same thing. I’ll need to take a sample of your blood to confirm it. Is that alright?” 

Moira nods. “Fine. What do you need?”

“Just access to your arm.”

Astarion doesn’t necessarily want to watch the process. Open wounds can be their own sort of challenge, but this woman’s blood is rank enough he’s not sure he’d even be tempted by it at all. Besides, he wants to see if it behaves like the other blood Liv has shown him. If they are in fact onto something. 

Liv asks the woman banal questions he doesn’t bother paying attention to, but he realizes that she’s good at this…at people. She’s charming and comforting while still being genuinely warm. She reminds him of Tavren, of the way they were so quick to take care of people. Liv doesn’t owe this woman anything, but she’s kind and reassuring. 

She’d surprised him by showing up at all after last night. He was sure that she’d been so put off by him that she wouldn’t. But she hadn’t just shown up, but she’d made some comment about the Bhaalists not being enough to scare her off. It was…nice. Seeing her with Moira, extending the same kindness she had to him, rankles. There’s nothing special about her care or warmth, it’s just the way she is. His immediate impulse is to be as cruel and unpleasant as possible, to see just how far her limits extend, but instead, he just shifts his attention off of her.

While she works, two more runners come into the tent dropping off pouches of gold to Uktar, and Uktar marks the names off in his book after counting the gold in each pouch. The amounts are small, and Astarion realizes what the money is for: protection bribes. These runners aren’t just to bring money, they’re to keep an eye out for thieves and likely alert whatever merc group is patrolling the Wide that day. The stall owners pay a tax for protection, and at the end of the day, the runners bring in the gold for the Guild.

It’s efficient. Clean. Astarion almost admires it. 

“Was Alfran doing anything peculiar or special for the Guild? He told me he was a runner, but that’s all.”

“I’m not about to air the Guild’s business.”

Liv is bandaging up the woman’s arm, gentle as always. “Fair enough. Any recent injuries? Exposures to anything odd? Were you and Alfran ever in the same places together?”

Moira shakes her head. “Just here. I cut my hand open a couple of weeks back. All healed up now though.” Moira holds out her hand, revealing a reddened scar between her thumb and forefinger. 

Liv reaches into her bag, producing a couple of bottles. One looks like a healing potion and the other he can’t identify. “You seem to be doing just fine, Moira. But, if you start feeling worse at all, I want you to drink both of these and then come see me. I’m at The Shadowed Quill, do you know where that is?” Liv is lying; this woman is sick. A part of him wants to call her on it in front of Uktar and Moira, but he can’t quite get the words past his tongue.

“Course I know about it. You should’ve led with that. We all know what you do for folks in the Lower City.”

Liv’s answering smile is the first he’s seen entirely free from strain. “We are trying.” 

“But I’m not sick?” Moira asks. “Even if my blood..smells bad?”

“I wouldn’t take it personally, not everyone’s smells like a delicious bouquet,” he smiles, allowing his fangs to show. 

“We’ll be going now,” Liv says. “Thank you for your help.”

Moira walks them to the tent flaps. “Thanks for doing what you could for Alfran. He was a good kid.”

Uktar steps close as Moira and Liv step back to the front of the shop. His voice is pitched low, barely louder than a whisper. “She’s not your usual ally, and I’d be careful with her if were you.”

Is Uktar really warning him about Liv? She’s handy enough in a fight, he supposes, but he’s still pretty sure he could take her out should the need arise. And it won’t because she’s too boringly nice. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t come back here. Either of you. I’ll be sure to send Moira to you if she needs anything.”

His curiosity is piqued, but what is the point of pushing? Uktar has clearly given him every bit of information he plans to. And Astarion trusts the bursar about as far as he can throw him, and that’s not far. 

He follows Liv out of the tent and back into the crowded market. He waits until they’re very much out of earshot before he leans down close to her ear. “You lied to her.”

Liv looks up at him with confusion. “What are you talking about? No, I didn’t.”

“Her blood smelled just awful. She’s going to die, just like Alfran.”

Liv pulls the vial of blood from her bag with a shake of her head. “Her blood is normal, Astarion.”

He takes the vial and examines it. There’s not a single hint of tendrils. “Shit.”

“I’ll take it back to the shop and spend some time with it, but whatever’s wrong with her…her blood isn’t doing the same thing.” Liv looks lost, unsure, and disappointed as he hands back the vial. She looks like she’s on the verge of apologizing, and for some reason, he doesn’t want that. 

“We probably need a larger sample size before we come to any conclusions, yes?” 

She looks relieved and strangely grateful.  “Yes.”

Then he gestures down another aisle. “Shall we?”

[ficbrish]

Snippet Saturday

[06Jan2024]

This is from one of the posted one shots in my Kinktober collection.

"A Ten Year"

snippet is mature, 18+

bg3 spoilers!!! (takes place post-canon)

[Astarion and Vistri stay at Gale's tower to experiment with magic]

[[tw/cw: alcohol]]

“Hello, darling,” Astarion greeted delightedly as she entered their rooms.

Together they made ten years fly by, yet Vistri felt like she was beholding his face for the first time, only just now becoming acquainted with his voice. She still felt like that when they reunited after being apart for any amount of time. Even just within the space of half a day.

Vistri pouted, “I think he hates me.”

Astarion affectionately pretended to be fed up with her, “What’d you do this time?”

“I… teased him a little.”

“Oh, come now! If he was ever going to hate you over that, we wouldn’t ever be invited to stay.”

Vistri laughed, and its ugliness made her the most precious thing. Astarion had no choice but to wrap his arms around her and feel her convulse against his chest.

His eyes were soft, “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Vistri closed hers to soak up the heat and sincerity in his tone. It was sweeter than a song.

Their tongues did the rest of the talking. Then they found each other’s skin underneath their fine clothes. Passing breath back and forth until they eventually sunk to the floor and melted into each other.

Afterwards, they gazed in amazement while their chests wracked like stormy waves. Vistri wiped a drop of sweat off Astarion’s brow that threatened to fall into his eye.

“Let’s take a bath,” she purred.

When they all met for dinner later Gale was no longer peeved, but he had a look of madness about him.

“I’m feeling inspired,” he announced, raising his glass, “To us! And the pursuit of…”

“Debauchery,” Astarion offered.

Vistri smirked.

They clinked and sipped. Gale excitedly took over the conversation with theories on mimicking the psychic link of a mind flayer. Another elixir was obviously out of the question. One would just cancel out the other. And they’d already ruled out the use of more than one scroll.

“—but what if it’s something we wear?!” he exclaimed, the punchline to his lecture.

“Well, I like it,” Astarion said in a high, breathy tone. Then tilted his head and lowered his voice for dramatic effect, “Question is: What should we enchant?”

Undergarments would be the most fun, but those would probably end up discarded, breaking the effect. Any sort of necklace or diadem was a bad idea for the same reason. So, they went with the most basic answer, a ring.

“Boring, but sort of perfect,” Vistri said, “In theme with our little get together—It reminds me of that ring Omeluum gave us, the Ring of Mind-shielding, but—”

“Ring of Mind-flayer,” Gale joked.

Vistri chuckled, “Exactly. I think it could be nostalgic. Don’t you agree, love?”

Astarion swallowed a gulp of… well, somebody’s blood, and set down his goblet to take hold of her reaching fingers.

He nodded, “The rings themselves make splendid gifts.”

“Party favors!”

“Yes, dear,” Astarion patted her hand, “Party favors.”

Gale chewed thoughtfully and hummed, getting ready to say something.

“Do you think everyone will be ready to turn into mind flayers? Even though we wouldn’t be actually turning into one—I mean, we worked so hard not to after all. Now we’re making it into a game.”

“A sex game,” Astarion clarified, just because Gale’s reaction was always priceless.

“With your brilliant ring idea, anyone can skip the mind flayer bits and still have a blast” Vistri said, “But that’s the draw of it for me, personally. I like to face my fears in the bedroom.

“Really puts the whole vampire companion into perspective,” Gale muttered into his wine.

“I think it has the potential to be quite healing, frankly,” Vistri went on, “You know: Take control of the thing we used to not be in control of.”

“And fuck it,” Astarion added.

“But not… At the party. Right?”

“No, Gale!” Vistri scoffed, “Do you tend to host orgies at your other family reunions?”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled, “But you both better remember that. I’ll have no illithids at the party proper! Not when it’s my turn to host.”

The first tenday was a disaster of failed attempts. Their unique shapeshifting spell was easier said than managed. The rings ended up being the simplest part. After all, it was just a stack of enchantments: Warding to connect the pair, mind reading, and a mix of charm and psionics for the transfer of sensation and feeling. Those only took time because they had to be bonded pairs. The elixir proved to be just as tricky as the scrolls, but after Gale remembered to enchant the mushrooms, they had something viable.

Just in time, they pulled it off. The only thing left to do before the party was to give the whole experience a test run.

[Read more: AO3 | Tumblr]

[blackjackkent]

In some ways, I feel like Rakha's liveblog ends up being a lot more streamlined than Hector's bc I have a lot less writing about "Here's how I solved this puzzle for the first time." :P

This puzzle, for instance. Not a particularly interesting one, if I'm honest. The interesting part is what lies behind the door it unlocks.

Another brain to talk to in Gortash's machine, and an enormous carved mural labeled "Desecrated Relief."

As Rakha halts in front of the relief, her mind spasms again in her head and the voice of the Absolute booms through her.

"--OUR -destiny----- DESIGN- downfall....---"

Narrator: Your tadpole echoes. Not with presence, but memory - tinged with loss.

"-THE GRAND DESIGN----- -order--- --perfection---- ---- UNITY--- every plane AS ONE--- every being- ---IN THEIR PLACE---"

Narrator: That loss blooms into a sudden fury, burying claws in your mind.

Pain - agonizing pain and grief and loss, as real in the moment as if she were feeling it herself.

"---taken--- --corrupted--- --GONE-----"

The Absolute screams in her mind, a wail of anguish... and then fades.

Narrator: And just as suddenly, pain and memory are gone - leaving only stone once more.

"The Grand Design," Lae'zel mutters icily. "It is every githyanki's duty to ensure the ghaik empire is never reborn."

"The Grand Design," agrees the guardian, whispering through their minds, a soothing balm after the Absolute's screams. "The restoration of the mind flayer empire. The dream of all illithids."

Rakha nods slowly. She feels rattled and unsettled by this glimpse into the Absolute's thoughts, by its visceral grief at the loss of its own tyranny. While the memory had control of her, that grief and rage was hers, just as the beast's violence is hers in the moments it takes control of her.

She shudders. Will there ever be a time, she wonders, when my mind is mine alone?

She picks up the heavy jar with the brain and drags it back to Gortash's machine.

-----

This one is labeled "Waking Mind," and it is remarkably composed when Rakha activates it.

"Hmmmmm," it says thoughtfully, squinting at her. "Fine bones. Sharp jaw. Some variety of elf?"

Rakha considers correcting it, then decides not to bother. Half-orc. That's what Gale says at least. She remembers nothing; for all the connection she feels to that particular identity, she might as well be an elf.

The head is still talking, anyway. "Pretty enough for a flesh-prison," it says briskly. "If not the noble githzerai features I was born with. I'd guess you're no willing guest of the ghaik either. Perhaps we might aid one another."

"You called yourself 'githzerai,'" Rakha says slowly. "Is that some kind of githyanki?"

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Lae'zel roll her eyes with a muted chk.

The head is equally unimpressed. "Oh, for a set of hands to slap your face," it snaps. "The yanki lost their way the moment Gith threw down the ghaik empire. Only we zerai continue the war to end the ghaik forever. Only we fight them on their own battlefield - the mind."

Rakha rapidly extrapolates a few things from this. The zerai and the yanki are similar but not the same - splintered factions of Gith's whole. Perhaps like those who follow Orpheus, as Lae'zel has described. But she also discerns - this brain is not like the others. It knows its state; it knows it has no body.

"You're remarkably sane," she says matter-of-factly. "For a pickled brain."

"A githzerai's mind is not so easily cracked," answers the head curtly. "Our discipline was the very reason we were attacked. My order taught a psionic technique much-feared by the ghaik. They destroyed us for it and kept me as a trophy. I never broke, but... I've spent all these centuries awake. Aware. So here is my offer. Use your tadpole. Erase me, and I will pass my technique on to you."

Rakha's eyebrows lift thoughtfully. A gith mental technique designed to fight off illithid influence. Something that might push back the tadpole, perhaps? Might help her carve out peace in her own head?

The idea is tempting, as anything that might quiet her mind always is. And yet...

Narrator: [INSIGHT] You catch the lie - the monk isn't telling you everything.

It's subtle, a slight flicker of the eyes away, the minutest hint of indirection. But it's enough.

Her jaw sets in a scowl and she clenches a fist at her side. "If you want my help," she growls, "then tell me the truth."

The head shudders and its eyes go very wide. "All right!" it wails. "I-- the ghaik did not find my monastery. I led them there! They promised me immortality and they gave it! I have been their rotting trophy for centuries!"

Narrator: As her agitation swells, so does her latent psionic power. To your tadpole, that guilt and terror are almost... fragrant. You realize the illithids locked her away not as a trophy, but as a fine vintage.

"Please..." the head pleads desperately. "Touch my mind and purge it. The moment you do, my knowledge will be yours."

The beast would enjoy this mind's death, she thinks vaguely, but only as a by-the-way sort of thing. There is no blood, little pain. For once, this time it is the tadpole that is hungry; she could reach out and consume rather than purge, draw its energy into her by force.

It takes all the strength in her to resist that instinct, to simply reach out towards the other mind and brush against it, gently, gently...

She is so tired of having to fight down the things that would have her rip and tear like a mad animal...

[ILLITHID] Reach out and purge her mind.

Narrator: The awareness that floods you is nothing like the tadpole. It is tentative, and tinged with the loneliness of eons. It fades beneath your touch, but you feel something left behind. A fragment.

"It is only knowledge yet, without comprehension..." whispers the head, its voice fading with each word. "But when you use it, you will... see... and I... I see..."

Its voice drifts into nothing and the head again goes still and slack.

For a long time, Rakha stands very still with her eyes closed, looking inward. The knowledge the zerai gave her had no answers in it, not really. But it settles in the back of her mind, a stabilizing force, a new pillar, a new retaining wall. It is not peace, but perhaps a new glimmer of strength.

"Are you all right?" Wyll asks.

Rakha shrugs.

"Chk," Lae'zel mutters. "A githzerai monk. And a traitorous one at that. What good to drag its little secrets from its broken mind?"

Rakha speaks - a little slowly, as if she is swimming back from the bottom of some deep pool and reacquainting herself with the air. "It... had suffered enough," she says haltingly, and her eyes flick to Wyll in a silent question. A request for confirmation.

He nods, takes her hand and squeezes it gently. "Yes," he agrees.

[thiriann]

Extraterrestrial - Chapter 3 "Insecurity"

My Githyanki playthrough inspired me to write a fic about my gith, Ilaara and Astarion's adventures. Haven't written in over a decade but Astarion got me to try again. Astarion POV for most of it.

This is a continuation of an ongoing fic.

You can also find me on AO3

Pairing: Tav X Astarion, F/M.

Content: Githyanki Tav, Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Alien Cultural Differences, Cleric Tav, Astarion Being Astarion, Flirting, Seduction, Biting,Vampire Bites,Blood Drinkin, no sex in this chapter but will be in later ones. Ongoing fic

Words: 2k

Summary:As the group readies to depart from the grove, Astarion finds himself wrestling with the mystery that is Ilaara.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The previous night had been incredible, but in the light of day, he could admit he had gotten carried away.

The irony was not lost on him—the first gesture of kindness he'd received came from someone not of this world.

As she woke, he approached, trying to gauge her feelings now that she’d had a few hours to mull things over.

“Good morning. How do you feel?” he tried to make his tone sound caring, yet there was an undercurrent of caution.

“I'm fine, I just feel a little woozy.” she replied, her rigid posture and stern expression belying her words.

“It'll pass. Just be glad I'm not a 'true' vampire. A bite from them and you might wake up as a vampire spawn, like my good self. All of a vampire's hunger, but few of their powers.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressed into a thin line. That confirmed it—he was a vampire; that's why he needed blood. She struggled to recall what she knew of his kind—so many creatures in this world, and his was not well-known. Fortunately, he seemed willing to share details of his condition.

Before he could decipher her expression, she asked ,“Any other drawbacks I should know about?”

“Oh, I've no idea. For two hundred years, the sun would have turned me to cinders. Until the crash, when I woke up bathed in its light.” he shared, revealing the thoughts that had plagued him since the crash “Someone - or something - wants me alive. They've changed the rules.”

“Standing in the sun, wading through a river, wandering into homes without an invitation - they're all perfectly mundane activities now.” he continued, his voice tinged with wonder.

“As for my other quirks - well, we can figure those out in time.” he concluded with a salacious wink.

“What's causing this? The mind flayer's parasite?” Ilaara inquired. It was highly unusual for the tadpole to cause such side effects, but then again, they hadn't encountered many of his kind who'd been infected.

“That's my theory, but who knows?” he mused. She hummed under her breath, this was a fascinating revelation indeed.

“I'm just glad you're being sensible about these revelations. I was worried people might turn up with torches and pitchforks.” he admitted.

“Although there's still time,” he added, glancing nervously over her shoulder.

Their teammates were approaching, standing by her side.

“A vampire among us? So be it.” Lae’zel declared sternly “For his sake, he best not develop an appetite for githyanki.”

She eyed Ilaara, her judgment clear. If all Githyanki tasted like her, resisting would indeed be a challenge—not that he would dare risk Lae’zel's wrath.

“Given our group's nature, I don't see much harm. We're each monsters in the making, after all.” Shadowheart chimed in.

A flicker of pain crossed Astarion’s features. It really was all he was in the end. Just another monster.

“Enough,” Ilaara cut through the tension “I trust him. He won't hurt us.”

“Quite the opposite. I'm here in the spirit of openness and honesty, to work together as a team.” Astarion asserted, hoping to bolster Ilaara's defense of him.

“Fine - he stays, 'til he's no longer of use. Besides, my flesh is not so easily tasted.” Lae’zel declared, her gaze lingering on Ilaara before she turned away.

“You say all the right words, but I'm not so sure you mean the right things. Still, I will respect the decision that was made.” Gale remarked, his skepticism apparent as he left.

Alone at last, Astarion exhaled a sigh of relief. One more hurdle avoided, for now.

---------------------------------------------------------

Luckily the day carried on.

Ilaara had refused to get involved in the squabble between the druids and the squatting tieflings insisting they didn’t have time to be sidetracked. True enough they could turn into mindflayers at any moment.

“We should gather supplies from the grove before we set to the road” she proposed, leading them to spend the day haggling for supplies bartering for goods.

“Ah, if it isn't the talk o' the camp?” greeted one of the grannies, her tone a blend of surprise and delight.

“It's a rare day I see one of you lot about. Thank goodness you came along when you - oh!” she gasped concerned “You look more green then yellow, petal! Are you hurt? Cold? Feverish?”

“Auntie Ethel will sort you out. I've lotions and potions galore!” she assured, bustling with an array of concoctions.

“Why she sounds positively demented.” Astarion mused with a grin “I love it! Let's tell her everything.”

Ilaara shot him a sceptical glance.

“She is not to know of the... our ailment. Only a gith healer may make us pure.” Lae’zel chimed in, scolding him.

“You could be friend or foe. Why should I drink anything you prepare?” Ilaara challenged.

 “I know githyanki make a habit of paranoia, but 'tis just a healing potion.” the granny retorted.

“A being like you knows of the gith?” Ilaara probed, suspicion lacing her tone.

“Yes, and you're as grumpy as I remember. No offence, love but...” Auntie Ethel deftly sidestepped the question “...you don't look well. Are you all right?”

“My health is my concern, not yours.” Ilaara snapped back, her patience wearing thin.

“Ah, don't be grumpy, petal. I only want to help.” The granny offered cheerfully.

“I've got a mind flayer parasite in my head.” Ilaara stated bluntly.

Auntie Ethel noded along - her eyes wid. “I see no sign of a tentacle yet, but that could change in an instant. You need help, serious help.”

“I've ne'er a potion or lotion here that could do it, but...” she trailed off thinking “...yes. I may have something at home!”

“You'll have to stop by my house - just at the edge of the forest! Let me mark it on your map. I'll be heading back soon, so I can meet you there.” She marked a spot on Ilaara’s map with haste.

“See you around, petal,” she called out, departing with a wave.

“We don’t have time to be paying house visits.” Lae’zel said pulling Ilaara to the side. “Our kin offer the only cure.”

“That is true.” Ilaara nodded in agreement. “We cannot trust this woman. But she was rather…unusual.”

“You there! Saw you fighting those slimy bastards.” an older tiefling bellowed,“Fancy a bowl?”

Ilaara arched a brow, intrigued. “This is a delicacy in your land? I’ll try anything once.” She said, accepting the gruel.

Astarion grimaced at the sight.  It appeared more repulsive than he remembered solid food being and smelled awful. His vampiric diet suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

“Ha! That’s a good attitude.” the tiefling praised. “Here. Have some more. We’ll need every bit of strength to make it to Baldur’s Gate. Trust me.”

---------------------------------------------------------

They’d managed to pick up the famed Blade of Frontiers as part of their little group, much to Astarion’s dismay. He was chasing some devil from the hells, and Lae’zel claimed they didn’t have time to help him in his mission, but Ilaara had insisted they needed to help every infected so as not to spread the mindflayer infestation. Even in the middle of the wilderness, they’d managed to take into their camp the first monster hunter they’d found.

At least everyone knew Astarion was a vampire now, so he wouldn’t have to worry about their reaction, but having Wyll at the camp still made him feel very unsafe. Ilaara had protected him after he’d bitten her, but for how long would that continue before she found him a threat? She would undeniably stand against him if he told her he intended to take control of the tadpole instead of getting rid of it.

He had to hurry up his plan and win her over to his side.

Still, despite her unexpected generosity, she seemed rather unimpressed by his charms. He could hardly tell on her face, always scolded in a neutral expression, a true soldier she was.

He had the urge to ask her to Three-Dragon Ante, just to see who'd give away less out of the two of them. But he tried to push aside notions like that and focus on the task at hand. As time went on he slowly started noticing the small shifts in her expressions, the briefest changes really, but he noticed. All the time spent  studying her was paying off bit by bit. He had to know though, if what he was doing was getting to her. He supposed he could always take a small peek inside her mind and confirm or deny his suspicions. But the sheer thought of going into her head, her mind uninvited, repulsed him.

Doubt crept in. Usually, his charm and a few flirty lines were enough to get potential targets at least partially interested. Should he switch things up? Attempt a show of martial skill, or... gods, what did gith even find appealing?  Maybe it was the nose? He had overheard Lae'zel talk about it, calling it a mistake.

That brought an interesting idea to mind. The following day, he procured what he needed. As the camp settled into rest, he took out a mirror he had stashed from one of the vendors they encountered. He had often wondered about the face so many raved about, the one so many drunken songs were sung and poems written. But much to his disappointment the tadpole hadn't affected that – he still didn’t possess a reflection.

Bitterness swelled within as he gazed into the void.

“Looking at something?” he asked, noticing Ilaara's approach.

“Just looking. What are you doing?” she asked.

“I'm looking too, but not seeing very much. Another quirk of my affliction.” he sneered at the mirror.

“Vanity is a weakness.” she deadpanned, not really surprising him with her declaration.

“It's an indulgence, I'll grant you, but a weakness? A well-presented face can open a lot of doors.” he said, swifty changing his expression to an easy, welcoming smile with ease.

“Not that I've seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and its eyes turned red.” 

“What colour were they before?” Ilaara asked, perplexed. She had no idea eyes could change upon this kind of transformation.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she made a note to document the vampire-specific detail she was learning into the tir’su slate.

“I... I don't know. I can't remember.” he confessed, surprising them both.

“My face is just some dark shape in my past. Another thing I've lost.” he hissed, throwing the mirror in anger.

Unexpectedly, she leaned into him, catching him off guard.

“What?” he asked, confused.

 “I'll be your mirror. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see.” he implored.

“An elven vampire spawn, approximately 5'11", medium build...” she began listing.

“Gods above. Would it kill you to dispense a compliment?” he scolded.

He felt a twinge of delight at the panic that flashed in her eyes. Her composure faltering for just a moment.

“When you smile, your face wrinkles. It is comforting.” she said finally.

“Excuse me? I'm an eternally young vampire, not your doting grandmother.” he retorted, pretending to be insulted. “You can do better. What else?”

Her eyes twinkled with understanding before she answered, “That dangerous smile.”

“Very good. Now just tell me I'm beautiful and we can call it a day.” he waved, pleased.

Ilaara gave him a strange look then, a little half smile on her face. She’d never called anyone beautiful before. Physical appearance had never mattered much to her people and neither had observations regarding it. But as he stood before her now, she couldn’t deny his enchanting features.

“You're beautiful.” she conceded.

“Observant.” he stated “Mirrors aren't much use, but being reflected in someone else's eyes?”

“ Well, I could do worse.” he smiled, clearly pleased with their interaction.

He watched her as she walked away. It seemed his little experiment had proven successful. With a significantly boosted ego, he strolled out of the camp preparing to hunt.

[asphaltvalkyrie]

I had an extremely slow day at work today, so I chose to look busy by writing about BG3. Someone smarter than me has probably had this revelation before, but it gave me pause enough for me to feel like I need to share it.

I decided to romance Gale in my 2nd playthrough, with the intent of letting him get ahold of the Crown of Karsus, and its making me Feel Things.  I like this walking apocalypse of a wizard a lot (he and Karlach are my easy faves,) but its taken romancing him to really see that

tl;dr Gale's backstory really makes a handy allegory for gifted kid burnout.

From the beginning he was special, a golden child, someone who would do great things and go far. So, he ended up building his entire personality on that eventuality.  Older authority figures took a special interest in his talent and he immediately wanted nothing more than to please them, at the cost of making friends or learning life skills (well, except cooking apparently?) 

(Then there's the whole issue of him developing a sexual relationship with Mystra who was without a doubt considerably older than he was and had that "but he's so mature for his age," mindset and all the fuckery that comes with that holy shit I can't even begin to desconstruct how much that would fuck someone up.)

Then he makes a mistake. He breaks a rule he didn't know existed. Why doesn't he know that rule existed?  Because no one told him.  They conflated his intelligence with maturity and his self-confidence with knowing his own limits. They forgot that he's basically a kid compared to them. (Elminster is what, centuries old?  And Mystra is a fucking deity.) He lacks the emotional maturity to understand why what he did was so bad. 

Gifted kids know.  Among the absolute worst thing an adult can say to you is "I expected more of you," or "you should have known better." Which is pretty much what Elminster and Mystra said to him. And then they not only withdrew their attentions and support, but they also refused  to help him deal with the orb - an omnipresent physical and spiritual reminder of his trangression. After that... he just has no idea what to do with himself. He sits in his wizard tower until the Mind Flayers get him.

By the time the others find him, he's realized that the talent he used to get by on no longer serves him, but since he built his whole personality around it, he doesn't know how else to act.  So he maintains the bluff and bluster of a child prodigy, but he's now keenly aware of how pointless it is. He seems insufferably arrogant at times, but there's a razor-fine edge of self-loathing to that arrogance that he couches in self-aware humor. Over the course of his short time with the party he starts to feel like he's cared for and among friends, and even proves himself an attentive, affectionate and very grateful partner if you romance him.

Then Elminster shows up and tells him to atone for what he did by suicide bombing the Elder Brain. Bam, there goes his hope of finding a life outside of that "greatness" others told him he was destined for.  Once a gifted kid always a gifted kid.  Destined to be a human sacrifice on the altar of someone else's expectations, for good or ill. 

And in a semi-related note, when you take him through the Dryad's trial, the answer to the question "whats his biggest flaw" is that "he thinks the world would be better off with him dead" and he says that its very true, but he didn't realize it until you said it.

Then you find the Annals of Karsus, and what does he say he wants to do with it? Reforge the Crown of Karsus with it so that he can obtain godlike power and make the world better for mortals, and he wants to share it with you.  With how smart he is, he really should know thats a terrible idea. But he doesn't, because of a combination of hubris and naivete.  He learned absolutely zero lessons from the orb debacle because he hasn't really been allowed to learn any lessons beyond "I just have to do the thing I'm good at, only I have to try harder this time."

I'm only on the second netherstone, but I have a feeling that this is going to end very badly.

[brionysea]

okay SO. @madwheelerz' manifestation theory. in trying to wrap my head around it, i have come across some THOUGHTS

season 1

mike wants will back. the universe rearranges itself to give him this. i find the first season the easiest to understand in terms of mike's internal world being expressed through the supernatural, because of its relative simplicity

season 2

mike wants el back. the universe, again, rearranges itself to give him this. the new supernatural threat draws el out of hiding and back to the party

there's also a lot of talk about trauma this season. a lot of it is limited to what they knew about PTSD in the 80s but i find it really, really interesting in this context

owens: it's called the anniversary effect. we've seen this with soldiers. the anniversary of an event brings back traumatic memories. sort of opens up the neurological floodgates, so to speak.

hopper: so what does this mean for the kid? he's gonna have more episodes, nightmares?

owens: yeah, that. maybe some personality changes. he might get irritable. he might lash out.

will's anniversary is around the time the second season picks up, but there's another one that flies under the radar: mike's. lucas and dustin were with mike when the demogorgon cornered them, but they're fine. they're having fun with max. they're vibing. meanwhile mike is acting out, being abrasive and argumentative towards absolutely everyone, shutting himself off in his basement even when his friends spend all day trying to reach him

what owens said above doesn't really apply to will at all, beyond him literally acting like a different person, but it applies perfectly to mike. mike, as of season 2, according to the show's own definition, is traumatised

owens: just treat him normally. be patient with him. don't pressure him to talk. just let him lead the way.

joyce: i'm sorry, what you're saying is it's gonna get worse and worse and we're just supposed to pretend it's not happening?

owens: it sounds counterintuitive, i know. but i assure you that is really the best thing you can do for him.

this is the approach the wheelers seem to be taking. i'm reminded of karen saying mike would "come to them when he's ready" when ted asked if he should go talk to him after will's body was found. joyce does the exact opposite of this at any given opportunity, but karen seems to buy into it, and ted follows her lead

a year later, nancy's not better yet. mike's not better yet. that's to be expected, but i think the way those facts are treated is pretty reflective of the emotional situation in their household. will has endless support from joyce and jonathan, to the extent he feels suffocated by it, but mike just gets told to suck it up and stop making his parents look bad. nancy clearly understands this more intuitively from how she isolates herself before letting herself express much of anything unless she's drunk (and even then, she didn't start laying into steve until they were alone). their reputation is more important than their mental health

the demodogs, as an antagonist, are a physically smaller (but larger in numbers) retread of the demogorgon. almost like when something traumatic happens and your brain keeps going back to it in bits and pieces. and who got directly traumatised by the demogorgon? who thought they saw their friend get taken away by it right in front of them? mike. that scene in the middle school was very obviously traumatic for mike and mike alone

owens said that more episodes should be expected close to a traumaversary. and when's the last time mike was as upset about anything as he is about el being gone, one year later? when will disappeared. so he did something about it without realising again

season 3

following the pattern of the upside down being used as a tool to address lingering trauma: the mind flayer comes back

again, the mind flayer being will's trauma is more obvious. it took control of his body. it used him to kill dozens of people. it used him against his friends and family. but another thing that flies under the radar is the fact that mike witnessed all of it

mike saw will get taken on the field. mike saw will's nightmares. mike saw will's seizures from the tunnels being burned. mike saw will screaming. mike saw will slowly becoming less and less of himself. mike was the only (conscious) child trapped in the lab with the demodogs

if you think that just witnessing things like that isn't enough to count as traumatising, allow me to remind you of something this show's certified Trauma Monster has said:

vecna: i just want you to watch.

just watching is what got max killed. just watching is what got fred killed. just watching is what traumatised mike the first time around. just watching is what traumatised lucas and dustin. experiences like this do not have to be firsthand to be harmful

mike's more clued in to the wheeler rule of acting like everything's fine this time around, but he's still... not quite himself. he's ignoring most of his friends. he's extremely anxious and panicky about the idea of seeing el die again. he's denying himself things he used to love. he went through hell to get will back and keep will and now he's suddenly pushing him away out of nowhere. things like that don't happen without a reason

he's got even more trauma now than he did before, and when you're a 14 year old boy who can't go to therapy because it would make your parents look bad, that's not going to go away just because you act like it's not happening

season 4

being the Trauma Season, this one's source is more unabashedly, purely emotional: the relationship drama

last season, el took max's advice and dumped mike. while they were broken up, they started having friendly conversations again and both seemed happier and more comfortable, both as individuals and with their relationship. then the whole "because i love her" mess happened and they got back together, notably without any input from mike at all. immediately after that, the byers and el moved halfway across one of the biggest countries in the world

here's mike's issue: he's not aware that you can Not Date someone and also Not Lose them. el saying that she loved him back recontextualised all their interactions when they were broken up as romantic, and made him think that if he isn't el's boyfriend, he can't have her in his life at all. this is unacceptable to him for obvious reasons

so mike, knowing full well what he's doing, tries to give el what she wants without lying to her. obviously, this doesn't end well, but it also has a massive impact on mike's mental health in the meantime, which is only compacted by the distance from el and will. he's not eating. he needs constant reassurance. his bedroom and basement are messier than we've ever seen them. mike, much like max and chrissy and nancy, is not okay

mike sees things in a very, very black and white way. good and evil. monsters and superheroes. that's why he was so weird about el hitting angela: good guys protect, bad guys hurt. mike rarely thinks violence is justified, even in self defence when it comes to his own bullies, and el's physical safety wasn't being threatened

now put someone with a mindset like that into a situation like the one we've laid out

mike isn't an idiot. he's young and inexperienced and doesn't have a clue how to handle his emotions, but he's not unintelligent or lacking self awareness, and he's not this dense. he knows what he's doing. he knows he's not okay. he's just not doing anything about it, because that would mean hurting el, and mike would always rather get himself hurt than another party member

and isn't it convenient that the latest supernatural threat is one that says, "admit you're not okay or die. get better or die. fix this or die." doesn't that sound like exactly the kind of thing that mike, when backed into a corner, with his binary viewpoint of how good people and bad people act, would think of? doesn't it sound like his subconscious telling him this isn't right? to get his act together and stop pretending?

[space-fox-writes]

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Summery-Reader mourns the death of her love, Billy Hargrove after his death in the Starcourt Mall Incident

1.3k words

Billy stands from kneeling over Eleven, facing the Mind Flayer. Eleven starts to back up, Y/N reaching out to grab her and help her up, but is distracted by the long tentacle-like arm that comes out of the monster's mouth. Before it can grab onto Eleven, Billy takes hold of it, pushing back on it. More tentacles emerge from its body, slamming into the teen's body, first on his left, then his right. Another two to his back. Billy lets go of the first tentacle, screaming in pain. Y/N wills her body to stay put, knowing she'll only make it worse if she tried to make it release her boyfriend from its slimy grasp. 

Billy falls to his knees, looking at the monster head-on, almost as if he's asking if that's all it's got. Black goo and blood oozes from his mouth, rolling down his chin and neck, down to his white muscle shirt. 

The Mind Flayer opens its mouth once more, another tentacle arm coming from its mouth, shooting out and embedding itself in the center of Billy's chest. The troubled teen falls quiet, slumping down and to the side when the tentacles let go of him. 

Y/N is the first at his side, her hands falling to his blood and goo-covered cheeks. Billy sputters, spitting blood and goo onto her face, but Y/N couldn't care any less right now.

"I love you, Y/N/N." Billy whispers to her, giving her a gentle smile.

"No, no Billy, come on, we gotta get you out of here." She says, trying to get the boy she loves to move. Max falls at her side, telling Billy to get up. 

Billy looks at his step-sister once before uttering his last words, "I'm sorry." Y/N watches as his chest stops moving, his eyes becoming unfocused and glazed over as he looks at the ruined ceiling. 

Y/N's eyes shoot open the moment she wakes up. Her body is drenched in a cold sweat, soaking through the thin layer of clothing she has on and into the bed sheets under her and blankets around her. A harsh breath leaves her trembling lips, her eyes momentarily closing to try and fight off the tears filling them.

The shaking girl pulls herself out of her bed, throwing on a random sweatshirt from the floor and grabbing a pair of shoes. She treads lightly down the stairs and out to the driveway to the car awaiting her. She quietly slips into the driver's seat, pushing the keys into the ignition, listening to the engine's roar as it comes to life. The newly fixed blue Camero is quickly backed out of the driveway and tearing down the roads of Hawkins in a matter of minutes, driving to the only place the driver can think of.

The Quarry

Y/N steps out of the Camero, sitting down on the hood, looking over the cliff's ledge. The screams from her dream comes back, running through her head again. She closes her eyes again, trying to will the tears away, but it doesn't work this time. Salty tears roll down her cheeks, falling onto the sweatshirt she's wearing, which she just noticed was Billy's. The tears flow harder down her cheeks when she sees the police lights roll up behind her. It's only about a minute between the tires coming to a stop and the door of the Blazer being opened before Chief Jim Hopper is standing next to the hood of the Camero, letting out a sad sigh.

"Max call?" Y/N asks, looking out over the water instead of the chief.

"You know she did. She heard you start the Camero and drive off. She called for me to check on you, make sure you didn't wrap yourself around a tree." Jim says from next to her, taking off his hat and tossing it onto the hood in front of Y/N.

"Yeah, well you can go now, Chief. As you can see, I didn't wrap my car around a tree, so you're free to tell her I'm perfectly fine." Y/N said, a slight edge to her tone.

"Look, you and I both know you're not fine. Max, Steve, everyone knows you're not fine. We know you lost someone, but so did Max, Joyce did last year, and Nancy did two years ago. You're not the only one who has lost someone in this mess. You're not the only one hurting, so maybe you should stop looking at it like you're the only one hurting, 'cause you're not." Jim said but immediately felt guilty as soon as it left his mouth. A tear slid down Y/N's cheek when she looked down at her lap. "Y/N, I didn't mean it like that." Jim tried to backtrack, but it didn't work.

"Leave," Y/N whispered, still not looking at the chief.

"Y/N, c'mon, you know I didn't mean it like that." Jim said, reaching out to rest his hand on her arm. 

Y/N flinches away from the contact, raising her voice to get her point across. "I said leave! You can see I'm fine so leave me alone!" She yells, her voice echoing around the quarry. Jim lets his hand fall from her arm, backing up and back to his Blazer. Y/N watches as he drives back down the road, turning around when she can no longer see the large vehicle.

The mourning girl is quick to jump off the hood of the Camero, standing there and staring out at the blue water before she screams. And screams. And screams until her voice cracks and breaks, until her throat is raw. She falls to her knees on the rocks, letting sobs rack her body. She's uncaring of the way the rocks dig into her knees not covered by her pajama shorts. The pain shooting up her legs from the rocks is nothing compared to the pain of losing the one she loved the most. 

Y/N is unaware of the BMW pulling in behind the Camero, a concerned Steve and even more concerned Max step out. She has no idea how long she sits on the ground and sobs. It could have been minutes, hours, or even days, she doesn't know. All she knows is as she's crying, warm arms wrap around her from behind, pulling her off her knees and resting her butt on the ground. She begins to cry harder when she hears the sweet and soothing sound of Steve Harrington talking to her gently.

"I know, Y/N. I know you're hurting, I know. I'm so sorry." He says, repeating how sorry he is for her. Not long after Steve embraces her, Max is wrapping herself around her brother's girlfriend like a koala. Trying to soothe her cries.

Y/N is once again not sure how long the three of them sit on the ground in a tight embrace, but her cries eventually slow to small sniffles. They continue to sit in silence for a few more minutes before Max pulls away, looking at Y/N. "Let's go home Y/N/N. Billy wouldn't want us out here this late at night." Y/N nods her head, letting Max up first, then Steve, and finally, Steve pulls her to her feet. Max walks to the passenger back seat, sitting down in the car, waiting for the other two.

Steve pulls Y/N into one last bone-crushing hug. "You have no idea how sorry I am Y/N. I want nothing more than to bring Billy back, even if I hated his guts. I hate seeing you in so much pain. I wish there was something I could do for you." Steve says, ending his words with a kiss pressed to Y/N's hairline.

"I know, Steve. I just need some time." She says, squeezing his middle one last time before she lets go and walks over to the BMW. The Camero would be picked up later when Y/N was a little more stable.

The Camero would be just fine in Billy's favorite place. Just for one last time...

[melachonyof-lilies]

Fm!Gnome Tav x Astarion

Summary: Astarion doesn't feel oh so bad drinking from a gnome. He could hardly say they are above animals. But life just hits him with a mind flayer ship, a tadpole in head and a leader for a gnome, a rock gnome at that.

...

Gnomes are paticular creatures that are describe by many short tinkers and annoying. Forrest gnomes are magical rare sights but they pale when it comes to elves. Deep gnomes lives in the underdark though many wonders how the drows not deal with them yet. Lastly and the worst, the rock gnomes. They are everywhere in Faerun and their tenacity for adventure and hyperfixation of certain things are well tiring. He would be happy if the rock gnomes were arses but most are positive idiots. They are not people but a lesser one in that.

But who would have thought he had to travel along with one, as fortune ran out, its a rock gnome.

"What?! You're joking! What do you consider an animal?" Last night wasn't his best, hunger kicked in and no animals went through the forest.

The first one in his sight was the magic bursting gnome. The plan didn't panned out but he did get permission to get a bit of blood from her.

"I mean elves and humans are already out but goblins," His eyes flutters of the delicious option he has now.

"Kobolds, gn- haflings?" He bit his tongue though his slip up did not went unnoticed.

"Really? gnomes? Is that why you didn't hesistate to bite me of all people?" A tiny smirk untangled.

"Well you do look a fine snack, how couldn't i?" She expressed silent bewilderment on his excuse but after her lips betrayed her and spits out a chuckle.

"Fine, you can feed on me tonight." She was right, the first one he did think about feeding was her, maybe because she was gnome or she was much of a sucker to let this one go.

Either way he got the very best outcome he could get.

...

"The only reason why i couldn't get this damn chest to open, is because you drank too much of my blood!"

"Dear, with your stature, that was less than enough!"

"But its still a 75-25."

"Yes but i'll be getting the 75,"

"I found it first!"

"Im the one opening it!"

"Well you..."

Wyll and Karlach has been hearing this round of bickering for half an hour. The barbarian sighed and she lifted the chest from her shoulder. Both gnome and pale elf looked offended. Wyll shook his head and explained.

"Its almost sundown and it might well be time to go back in camp,"

"You greedy goblins can fight about this later, ill keep it safe for now," Her palm played a rythmitic tune on the chest while walking through the exit with her warlock companion.

"If you weren't too childish-"

"Oh i don't want to here about this from a person who is the height of a child!"

"I'm at least 50 years old and wiser."

"Not wise enough to lockpick a simple lock,"

They would bicker about treasure and gold through the way. A gnome will have certain obssessions through their craft or things. This gnome loves gold.

...

A somber night embellish after the meal. Most head along and slept like lambs. But the gnome has been trying her hands on chest right after she finishing her meal. Astarion smirked at her failed attempts. She needs him, and thats all the more reason he stayed by her side, irritating her with his presence, the skeleton key.

"Can't you just meditate or something?"

"I couldn't sleep for someone might want my help," She puffed her cheeks and glared at his amusement.

"Ugh, fine, i've been at it for two hours,"

Tav moved aside and left the rogue do his magic. It didn't take a minute until they heard a click. The chest open wide.

"Easy~" She rolled her eyes.

Her hands was at the lid, lifting it until his hand cover hers. She raised a brow.

"I have a new deal to propose," Her ear twitches when she hear deal. Its like her magic word to listen.

"I'll won't take the treasure, its all yours, the next treasure i open to the next," She waited for his next words, he articulate it quite slowly.

"All of the gold and richest of the chests we find will be in your hands but, you will have to let me feed on you for every one i opened," His eyes smirked, this deal is quite appetizing for both. He knows her kind well, if anything she wouldn't hesitate on her answer.

"No, deal"

"Good so- wait, what do you mean no deal?!"

"Its quite obvious is it not?" The pale elfs eyes falter, it was a bit much. Being bloodless was not anyones dream after waking up. She noticed his frown and completly abondened the chest in thought.

"When i say its obvious, i meant that its unfair of me to take advantage of your needs," He waited for her next few sentences, curious on her babbling.

"You want a deal that give me my wants in exchange for your needs, i don't know much about vampires but blood is important for you to be healthy," As much of a gold horder she was, her morality is quite cucumbersome. He curled her voice and leaned unto her ear.

"It quite is, and darling if gold isn't enough, i could offer something pleasurable," She was taken aback, but she hold her comcerning yet firm eyes on him.

"Astarion, i love to make deals with peoples want not needs, and you shouldn't let anyone take your needs for their wants, no one should," It wasn't registering, her words couldn't make sense. He laughed it off, it might have been Wyll's heroism rubbing off on her.

"How noble of you to think of that way, here i thought it was a burden-"

"It is honestly one, don't get me wrong but," Her playful tone stopped and she reached out for his hand and squeezed it lightly. His breath sharpens, focusing on her hand.

"Its a burden i'm willing, friend,"

Her touch was warm against his pale skin, her smile lifted his heart of something, something heavy since his journey began. He didn't like it.

Astarion retreated his hand and turned his back against her. He felt warm all of a sudden. It was embaressing how the greedy gnome could make his thoughts awry.

"Keep your damn treasure, im going back,"

"Wait, but the deal-"

He couldn't stand and listen any longer. Rolling his bedroll to the floor, he meditates. What in the nine hells happened? That interaction was a complete blur. Talking about wants and needs, From the experiences he had, he should have mastered it. Then why was he so tounge tied with that conversation. It has been long since he haven't thought of Cazador, mind flayers and the gallery of villains they will face or the anxiety of being alone.

It was the first time he was thinking something other than dread tonight.

...

The next morning, he saw a bag of gold and a suit of armor in front of his tent.

"Astarion, have breakfast with us! Gale made boar blood soup, its splendid!" Tav swag her arm beckoning him while he glanced back at the fortune he got.

This gnome would be more trouble than he thought.

[bugisawesomeasf]

Yo if you have the energy for stranger things, full on Nancy wheeler character analysis please?

uhh lol wasnt expecting this tbh but uhh sure !

so i think the main thing about nancy is that shes just idk sort of selfish in a way even if she doesn’t like mean to be, she just is (and thats fine! character flaws are cool.)

like i can’t remember what episode but i know it was before barbs death she was complaining about how inconvenient will going missing is or some shit. which yknow not the best way to react to your brother’s friend going missing (yikes)

i think like barbs death is an obvious example of her being kind of selfish, but when she realizes oh shit barbs gone shes literally does everything she can to save her (also note thats when she got involved in wills whole situation)

she gets to kill the demogorgan and it feels good getting revenge for barb

but its still not enough her best friends gone but will isnt will got saved.

and idk i think thats sort of the reason why shes very distant towards mike (why do you get to keep yours and i have to lose mine?) obviously she cant be mad at will so she has to be mad at mike.

in season 2 she like very obviously does wanna be with steve because barb’s basically haunting that relationship. she cant look at steve without feeling bad about barb (not to mention she literally has meals with barb’s parents with him)

and the her and jonathan find some sketchy shit the governments doing and so nance is like maybe if i like expose this i can avenge her again and i can stop feeling guilty all the time so she does that and she feels good for awhile but its not permanent and before she knows it she feels shitty again

in season 3 she’s dealing with alot not only is she dealing with the guilt of barbs death now she’s dealing with the patriarchy (cant she catch a break)

another thing to add is how she selfishly plans to investigate the rat thing (i forgor what exactly it was) and gets herself and jonathan fired. and her whole argument with him which was genuinely so awful of her.

she has a cute little girl power moment with her mom (its weird tbh because on one hand slay feminism on the other its like girl 🤨)

and she starts investigating again then the mind flayers back and i genuinely think a part of her was like maybe if i kill it i can actually avenge barb this time.

then her and jonathan reconcile which btw she doesn’t apologize about her oliver twist comment (idk who to blame her or the writers)

but along the way mike argues with max and yknow instead of defending your brother like a normal sister, shes on maxs side. and its just heartbreaking to see honestly.

they’re literally siblings but they act like they only know each other through a mutual friend (if that makes sense) and i just know in some universe her and mike stop talking. she has a positive relationship with literally everyone in the party except her brother :(

oh and in season 4 her whole plan to kill vecna she was like hey this is the real bitch who killed her let me avenge her again so she makes a plan where she can be the one to kill him so she can be the hero it doesn’t work

(also note the fact that she doesn’t hug mike when they reunite)

idk if i did her justice with this ‘analysis’. idk my thoughts are really scattered when it comes to her also i haven’t rewatched this show in so long so

also wanted to say this i feel like the fandom has a really black and white sense of morality when it comes to the characters which is weird because whats the fun that like flaws make character’s really good also theres this added element of her being a girl and how girls are literally not allowed to be given flaws or else they’re immediately categorized as a bitch by people