#lae’zel is confused all the time but lets her anyway

[ayakapartx]

shadowheart has the shoujo filter on when shes romanced, laezel hijacked my brain and now shes taking over all the illustrations

I LOVE DRAWING GITHYANKI EARS

[thehistoriccemetery]

would love if you could do prompt 1! especially if tav is being a hard ass and trying to keep pushing themselves hehe :3

Companions with an Exhausted Tav

Three posts in one week?? I’m truly on a roll. (Nah I was sick this week so I was off work for two days.)

Anyway here’s Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheira with a very sleepy (and stubborn) reader.

Shadowheart

You usually go to bed quite a bit later than Shadowheart, but luckily she’s never awake to realize just how late you’re staying up.

Until one night you push your luck a little too far. By the time you climb into bed next to her she pops her head up and notices the sun is already starting to rise.

“Love, have you been up all night?” She asks. You decline to answer, and luckily she’s too sleepy to push the matter, for now. You both fall back asleep.

You’re livid when you wake up to the noon sun and find the adventuring party had already left for the day. Without you.

You find Shadowheart polishing her spear, as she decided to stay back today as well.

You approach her, but she doesn’t even look up at you. “Good afternoon sleepyhead.”

“What the hell were you thinking not waking me up this morning?” you say, clearly aggravated.

She props the spear up next to her. “I did” she says, finally looking up at you. “If you’re too tired to get up the first time I wake you, you’re too tired to go adventuring. Now go lay back down. You clearly need a nap.”

You soften, immediately realizing your mistake. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just…”

“Tired,” she finishes for you. “I know, love. Seriously, go back to bed. You’re so grumpy when you’re tired.”

“I’m not grumpy!” You protest. She morphs her face into an over exaggerated pout, and repeats your words in a mocking tone.

You can’t help yourself, so you laugh. “Whatever. I’ll go back to bed.”

Lae’zel

You wake up in a panic as you’re being roughly dragged across the ground by your ankles.

You flail and struggle against your captors strong hand, but you can’t get loose.

“Tskva! Stop doing that!” Lae’zel shouts. It’s only then you realize who your “captor” really is.

“Lae’zel?” You ask, confused. “What are you doing? Why are you dragging me across the- ow!” You shout as you’re dragged over a rock.

“Seems this is the only way to get you to bed,” she responds, unfazed by your outburst.

She only stops dragging you once you’re in your bed. You immediately sit up and try to escape.

She catches you and pushes you back down. “Lae’zeeel,” you groan exaggeratedly. “I was doing something important.”

“If it is important than you should be able to keep your eyes open while doing it,” she retorts.

Well fuck. She has you there. You have been having trouble focusing for the last couple hours. Maybe it is best if you just go to sleep.

You’re surprised when Lae’zel crawls into your bed beside you. She doesn’t usually stay the night. “What are you doing?” You ask.

“Sleeping. Just like you should be,” she answers. You sigh, thinking of all the crafty ways you could sneak past her once she goes to sleep.

She interrupts your thoughts with a “and if you think you’re sneaking out, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Karlach

You’re passed out over a desk when Karlach gets up for a little midnight snack.

“Oh love,” she sighs. It must be four in the morning. How long have you been up?

You wake up slightly and mumble something indecipherable. You can hardly lift your head up off the desk.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” she whispers, throwing your arms over her shoulders and picking you up.

You unconsciously nuzzle her neck and let out a soft “mmm” at the familiar scent of your lover.

She lays you down on her own bed, trying to keep you upright for long enough to get you out of your armor.

She tries to be quiet, not only to disturb you as little as possible, but also to not wake up the entire camp.

When you’re finally out of your armor, she realizes she can’t find your camp clothes. Eventually, she settles on giving you one of her shirts that’s way too big for you.

You smile and mumble something that may or may not have been a “thank you.”

She finally lays your head against the pillow and you snuggle into the soft sheets and warm shirt.

She crawls cautiously into bed next to you, trying not to wake you up.

She can’t quite tell if you’re awake or not when you climb up on her chest and mumble “mmm warm.”

Minthara

The thing about Minthara is she’s not going to argue with you about taking care of yourself.

You can eat when you’re hungry, sleep when you’re tired, and piss and when you need to piss because you’re an adult and you can take care yourself.

So when she catches you burning the midnight oil for the third night in a row she’s angry. Like more angry than you’d expected.

“Hold on, Minthara,” you say, knowing she about to make you go to bed. “I just need to finish th-“

“No.” You’re interrupted abruptly. “You’re going to bed and I’m not going to catch you out here like this again.”

“Minthara, there’s things that have to done-“

“They can wait till morning,” she interrupts again, trying to stay calm even as you’re testing her patience.

“Just let me-“

“You have to take care of yourself, Tav!” She shouts, finally loosing her temper. “This isn’t an endurance test, this is your life: the one you have chosen to share with me. And I will not have you squander it out here, night after night, robbing yourself of sleep.”

You sigh, taking her hand and pulling yourself to your feet. You don’t even realize how tired you are until you’re swaying trying to keep upright.

She picks you up unexpectedly. You would have never taken Minthara for the type to carry you to bed. She’s never carried you to bed before.

Still, you accept the rare affection and wrap your legs around her waist while your arms and head rest on her shoulder.

She gently lays you down on your bed and pushes your hair off your forehead before giving it a kiss.

She really does love you, and she’s doing her best here. You just gotta take care of yourself, okay?

Jaheira

“Am I going to have to set a bedtime for you like I do the children?” She half teases, surprising you as she approaches your half asleep body.

You groan as if she just woke you from deep sleep. “I’m awake, sorry what time is it.”

Jaheira smirks and bends down so she’s close to your face. “Well past your bedtime,” she teases before giving you a short kiss.

“But I haven’t finished-“

“You’re done,” she interrupts matter of factly. Clearly this isn’t up for debate.

You groan again and mumble “fine,” reaching your arms up for her to carry you to bed.

She laughs, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over her shoulder. If you’re going to insist on her carrying you, you’re going to deal with her doing it like this.

She’s gentle when she lays you against the bed, crawling in next to you and wrapping her arms around you.

“Wait, so if it’s so late why are you up?” You ask.

She chuckles. “Don’t worry about it,” she answers before kissing you behind the ear and falling asleep.

[purdledooturt]

WIP Wedneday

I got tagged again, and y'all... you may not know this but I basically bleed WIPs. I have nothing but WIPs. Sometimes they never become anything, and WIP Wednesdays are the only way they see the world at all. Thank you @cinnamontails-ff for freeing one of these boys from the jail.

In celebration of the announcement of the continuation of An Empirical Science, I would also like to contribute to the Holy Rolan Empire.

The door clicked closed – then, it clicked again. Locked.

“Drop the glamour, please,” Rolan all but growled, “before I do it for you.”

Tav gasped at the commanding tone, her heart seized by cold tendrils in confusion. Immediately, she did as he had asked, dropping the disguise with an exhale. “Rolan!” Her hand flew to her chest, trying to still her pounding heart. “It’s just me!”

“Tav!” Rolan gasped back, his expression going from dark and fierce and angry to something more akin to surprise and confusion and… suspicion? With one final once-over the expression melted into something more sheepish, as his shoulders relaxed with a sigh. “I’m sorry about that. You… you had triggered some alarms, so I…” He ran a hand through his hair, letting loose a few tendrils from his normally immaculately styled half-up ‘do. “It’s good to see you, though.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, pursing her lips together as she felt her face burn red out of embarrassment. Of course they would have security measures for disguises and seemings – she didn’t even think about it. “That was wholly my fault.”

To try and soothe the awkward air, Tav went for the first gesture she could think of: a friendly hug. Oddly, Rolan accepted – in fact, he damn near melted into it. She enjoyed his warmer body temperature, momentarily reminded of the piggy-back rides Karlach used to give her when they were racing Lae’zel. She rested her chin on his shoulder. “It’s good to see you, too.”

He pulled away from the embrace, examining her once again. “My reaction was completely unwarranted. I apologise, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just thought you… were someone else. Why were you in a disguise anyway?”

She looked down at her bag of purchases and sheepishly held them up to call his attention to them. Curiously, he peered in. “Last time I came by, Lia wouldn’t let me pay, so…”

He laughed. “You silly girl,” he said fondly, shaking his head. He gestured towards a well-lit seating area by the large floor-to-ceiling window. “Why don’t you take a seat over by the window? Let me at least get you a drink, and I’ll let Cal and Lia know you’re here so they can say hello.”

Tav marvelled at the room Rolan had claimed as his office – the walls were covered in books, from floor to ceiling, but unlike Lorroakan’s old set up it was much more organised and welcoming. Rolan had his books in shelves of polished cherry wood – she found that the desk, chairs, his drinks cabinet, and the furniture at his seating area matched, giving the room an elevated, moody, professional air. It was luxurious and neat – it was just very him.

“ I’d love a juice of some kind,” she called out over her shoulder as she settled down on the plush seat of one of the armchairs. “This place is beautiful, Rolan - you’ve outdone yourself!”

“I found the difficulty of furnishing a space is greatly made easy by having lots of money,” he said in his normal, sardonic, Rolan way, though there was markedly no bite in his tone. “I do hope this juice would do.” 

She’d turned to find him walking towards her with two glasses of wine and she laughed, leaning forward in her seat to reach for one. “That counts,” she joked, as she watched him take the other armchair across from her. She took a sip of the wine – chilled and sweet. 

Before he leaned back he reached into his pocket, pulling out a pouch which he’d tossed her way. It landed on her lap with a light jingle that betrayed its contents. “Say nothing,” he said, pre-empting her protest with a raised hand, “that should be exactly what you paid, and not a gold more.”

“One of the scrolls was on sale,” she mentioned – concern about being credited more than what actually paid oddly the first thing in her mind.

The second, she found, was amazement – the idea of Rolan just… casually calculating the cost of her purchases, just from that brief glance into her bag, just to refund her? Well, she knew he was a genius, but that was as impressive as Astarion’s one-handed lockpicking trick – it was another level entirely. “Rolan, really –”

He finally settled down in the armchair, waving her concerns away. “I’ve accounted for that, don’t worry,” he said, “just to keep the books clean for Bex.”

Ooh - why did he react so poorly? Who was he expecting? 👀

I am super excited about this idea so I am definitely motivated to keep working on it - I just want to have it all planned out before I commit (sorry). I have a prologue whipped up that explains the whole premise from the get go, but there's a whole lot of middle to work with.

[spicyraeman]

Re: the shadowheart/Lae’zel/Jaheira dynamic - I’m thinking abt lae and shad being together already and poor Lae’zel, who never imagined falling in love with even one person, meets Jaheira and is immediately smitten. Cue her realizing that, as they all travel together, she’s falling in love with Jaheira too, and not knowing how to talk to Shadowheart about it bc she’s scared of losing Shad. Of course Shadowheart is perceptive as hell and has been watching her girlfriend fall head over heels for this renown warrior and frankly Shadowheart can hardly fault her, Jaheira is beautiful and powerful, who could expect not to fall for her at least a little? But Shad doesn’t push, she knows Lae’zel is new to these kinds of feelings and she doesn’t want her feeling overwhelmed. Time passes and eventually Lae’zel can’t ignore how she feels about Jaheira anymore. Maybe her and Jaheira have a Moment after a battle and they almost kiss but Jaheira gently turns Lae’zel down because she’s like I know you and Shadowheart have something special, far be it for me to be the old woman who comes between you two. Lae’zel is distraught, tries to hide it, goes to shadowheart to try to fuck her confusing thoughts away, is wildly unsuccessful and ends up nearly in tears bc she’s in love with shad and she’s in love with Jaheira and what is she supposed to do? Of course Shadowheart is so gentle and patient and asks Lae’zel if this has anything to do with Jaheira. Lae’zel is terrified but she’s honest bc she can’t stand to lie about it and Shadowheart is like I thought as much. Of course Lae’zel is like you knew? And Shadowheart is like I’m not as naive as you think I am, love. Anyways Shadowheart gives lae her blessing to pursue Jaheira, as long as she promises to keep a part of her heart free for Shadowheart. And maybe Shadowheart and Jaheira get involved also but that’s another novel for another time lol.

I love this sm, I love lae'zel getting hit by Feelings™ and freaking out while SH's poly ass is just trying to quietly let her figure it out

also I saw your other ask, every novel length relationship hc / general hc ask I get feels like a blessing from the gods never be sorry for sending them

[smt4flynn]

embiggen, embolden

Rating: R18/Explicit (Minors DNI)

Notes: This is a story about misusing the enlarge spell to do some shenanigans with Astarion. I wrote this in the coffee shop where I constantly kept oscillating between being cold and EXTREMELY cold, so I lost steam a little bit, but I wanted to finish it!

On AO3 this is apparently 4K wordcount. Also, you can find this on ao3 under the same name, by ao3 user Voidromeda! =)

-----

This isn’t the first time you cast Enlarge on Astarion – during combat, of course, just to help boost his combat prowess even further (and it does terrify you how strong he quickly becomes, helped by the fact that he finally lets Lae’zel and Karlach be his coaches) – but you normally recall it fading away after some time. You do not recall it ever backfiring and making him even bigger, to the point that he is literally towering over all of you, and looking confused as he is.

“I have looked everything over,” Gale says after a while, stood in front of a sitting, cross-legged Astarion who is now almost thrice everyone’s size, his hands are clasped in front of him and he seems to be smiling too wide, “and my conclusion is this: assuming if, and if, you did all of the incantations correctly and used the proper gesticulations, and given that I was there to hear you do the correct chant, the somatic and verbal components should not be the issue at hand here. The only thing I can assume is that the materials used were at fault somehow, or that the weave decided today, of all days, to be a right petty bastard and Mystra wished to have a lark at your expense.”

Astarion huffs out in annoyance, his breath ruffling Gale’s hair, and he turns around to look at him with his own momentary irritation . Astarion throws his hands up in faux surrender. “So, to boil it all down for us little peoples,” his voice practically drips venom, “you have no clue why this happened and, for all you know, you have no clue when I am going to turn back.”

“Correct!” and you have to hold back a laugh at the fact that Gale seems to be enjoying Astarion’s mounting irritation a little too much.

“I am big enough to eat you.” he says.

“But you and I know you won’t do that, unless you want a netherese bomb in your body! And I don’t think you want to figure out how to vomit me out to resurrect me!”

“Or how to shit you out.” Astarion grumbles, but he is too big for it to be quiet, and Karlach snorts particularly loudly at that. Lae’zel looks disgruntled, as she always does, and she looks between you, Gale, and Astarion before letting out an annoyed declaration in Gith and decides to leave them at that.

Shadowheart eyes the (rather) giant vampire, then turns to Karlach as she says, “you know, now that he’s bigger than you, he could probably carry you around and withstand your engine.”

“OH. YOU’RE RIGHT.” Karlach says a little too loudly. A glare from Astarion has her hushing herself, “oh, you’re right!” she repeats, and Astarion pointedly pokes her away with an index when Karlach tries to climb up on top of him. He hisses a little, though it isn’t as bad of a response as the rest of you had to touching Karlach. That has her eyes alight with excitement, much to Astarion’s chagrin. “But, he’d eventually get burnt up, yeah? Probably ain’t a reason to bother ‘im, he already looks like he’s about to blow and he’s not the one with the engine. Dammon said, anyway, that we just gotta find one last iron.”

“You won’t be able to ride around on his back.” Shadowheart says with an arch of her eyebrow. “Unless, of course, you’d like to go find one right now so we can rush on back to Dammon and try out your newfound touch on Astarion.”

“Teeeeeempting, tempting, but I don’t think we should just rush ‘round for a bit, yeah? It’s so tempting though! Ugh! I hate making good decisions!”

She gives him a good-nature grin and Astarion puffs air her way, which happens to also ruffle your and Shadowheart’s hairs. Despite him not needing to really eat (“of course I can still taste food,” he says to you after you give him a piece of chocolate cake that you particularly really like, “it’s just dulled, and not at all nutritious for me, it’s not even a luxury . Your blood is like heaven on my tongue. Why would I want anything else? ”), his breath smells like some sort of rosy ale mixed with a vanilla pastry. It isn’t that bad, though it still is a bit unpleasant.

“And what of you, Halsin? What do you make of this?” Gale spins on his heel to point over to the druid who arches an eyebrow up at Astarion, just as puzzled as everyone else is that the vampire is now... large. Quite, quite large.

“Though wizards and sorcerers oft pride themselves on their honed control over the weave, be it granted, earned, or both,” Halsin says pleasantly, as though he is talking about the weather and naught else, “it is not so strange that even the most skilled of wizards and the most gifted of sorcerers, or others should they have a grasp of it, shall have their mind wander and for the spell’s consistency to slip. One’s tools can only be as consistent as one’s body and mind.”

“So you think I got distracted, and that led to the spell backfiring?” you question. You aren’t really offended by it; the last combat encounter you have, where this mistake occurs, is a hectic one, with reanimated corpses reaching out to grasp at you and try to drag you under. “That makes sense.” and Halsin nods thoughtfully your way. “So the best thing to do is to just wait?”

“Yes.” Halsin gives you a smile and you smile awkwardly back.

Gale takes this as his cue to leave, citing having found some new books that he would like to look through while they wait for Astarion’s condition to fix itself, and Karlach gets herded away by Shadowheart so that they can do something else. Wyll, who has been absent for most of this, suggests to the former two and to Lae’zel to go patrolling around the Shadow-Cursed lands, and the three women jump at the opportunity to leave.

When you look over, Gale disappears into somewhere and you think it best not to ask. Halsin, seeing that people seem to be leaving to do their own activities, excuses himself to go and look further into the Shadow-Cursed lands, to try and see if he can find anything now that he is more experienced. It is just you and Astarion now, the vampire staring at you with some mixture of interest and mischief.

“So!” Astarion clicks his tongue. You look at him a bit warily. He must be a bit angry at you, considering that you’re the reason as to why this happens, though you can’t see it anywhere on his face. That’s even worse, your mind supplies, because Astarion – for all everyone makes fun of him for being extremely obvious – can also be frightfully subtle when he wants to be. When he puts the effort in, you have seen him speak sweet little lies to some of the still sentient shades, encouraging them to curl further to Shadowheart before they melt painfully under her cast of daylight.

You think he does not try on the living because some form of guilt keeps him at bay. What happens when that bit of guilt is gone, you wonder?

“So.” you say when he stays quiet. Astarion smirks at your uncertainty.

When he comes to a stand, properly, you find yourself just a little below his crotch – Karlach, earlier, points and bellows loudly that she is ‘almost dick-height! Just a little above it, actually, that’s fucking hysterical!’ which is why Astarion makes sure to stay sitting for a good while. You, however, stand so close to crotch height it is mortifying. You have to take a step back and crane your neck up, almost painfully so, to be able to look at him.

It shocks you when he simply scoops you up into his arm, lifting you up on one elbow, and you are held up to his face rather easily. He gives you a cheeky grin. “Admittedly, I was miffed with you at first; it really is hard to be so,” he clicks his tongue, “stealthy when you’re a huge brute. But I think I’m beginning to see the upsides!”

“The upsides.” you say flatly. He chuckles, the sound seemingly louder because of his size, and he uses one hand to carefully cradle your head and bring you close for an awkward kiss. Your lips are so small in comparison to his, and it embarrasses you a little how tiny you feel. “Astarion,” you start, pushing his face back a bit, and you give him a half-hearted glare, “can you – can you not have desires right now when you’re way too big for me?”

“But darling,” and he drags it out just to annoy you, snickering at the little tick in your brow, “when will we ever get an opportunity like this again, hm? Us all alone, no one to bother us, especially when these lands are cursed as they are. Don’t you want to see how big I’ve gotten down there? I’m curious to see it myself.”

You want to say that you are a bit more forceful when you say no.

Astarion carries you away from the camp, blessed as you both are by Isobel’s magics, though you have a feeling that Selûne will more than likely disapprove of how Astarion is taking advantage of your weak protections. You aren’t really... isolated, given that Astarion is still so large and attracting attention, but nothing really wants to approach him when he is so, so large. Undressing you is extremely easy for him, and you find yourself being cradled gently by him. His eyes are wide, taking you apart, and the hunger on his face is even more unavoidable because of his size. His fingers, which have always been larger than yours, positively dwarf your legs when he helps hold you up in the air.

Holding you up like this, with his hands trying to cradle you while his thumbs attempt to spread your legs, you feel like a bug under intense scrutiny. He exhales out through his nose, instinctively despite the vestigial nature of it all, and you shudder from the way his breath washes over you. He leans closer to you, crowding you, and his large lips press a dainty kiss against your folds. You grab at one of his thumbs when it comes to rest on your belly, his tongue rolling out to drag between your soft folds.

You whimper; it is a lot of sensation at once, rubbing against your labia all at once, even when he tries to thin it, narrow it to press it against your hole. He pushes you closer lips completely overtaking your vulva, large tongue lapping mindlessly between your folds, and you moan loudly from the sensation. He hums approvingly, the vibrations all too much at once, head tilting to the side to mouth at your thigh.

“Do you trust me for a moment, darling?” Astarion says.

“For more than a moment.” you say, your voice a bit rough from your moaning, and Astarion grins ever so sweetly at you before his expression becomes thoughtful.

“I’m going to put you further into my mouth,” he warns, “nothing will happen to you. You’ll be fine. Trust me.” and you do, of course. You nod at him when he looks at you, verbalise it next when his expression grows sharp, and his tongue rolls out once more to give you a distracting, flat, broad lick against your swollen vulva.

His mouth opens over your vagina again, his tongue dragging from your swollen, emerging clit down to your puckered hole. He laps against you, quick, skilled flicks of his tongue even with his larger muscle, and you writhe and whine loudly. He pulls back for a moment, looking at you critically, before his mouth falls open and you try not to kick at him when his lips wrap around your feet, up until your ankles. He lets you slip further into his mouth – and it is so hot and wet inside, lips wrapped around half of your body, and your hands come to rest above his upper lip when he finally stops.

Wildness flashes briefly in his eyes before he squeezes them shut and opens them to look at you carefully. His tongue slathers his saliva against your legs, briefly exploratory, tasting your skin in a way that makes you shiver from the discomfort and odd excitement of being at his mercy in an entirely different way. The muscle flattens up against your vulva once more, pressing between your folds, swirling his tongue around before going back to tasting your legs, drenching you in his saliva.

Your hips jump up, trying to move in tandem with his tongue when he goes back to licking you mercilessly, the tip of his tongue swirling around your engorged clit. It lays flat, swirling and grinding against your clit, flicking it up and down, and you shake, shiver. You press your hands against his skin, unable to move your body much because of it trapped in his mouth.

It is when you are able to cum in his mouth, your whines and moans getting louder, shamefully so, that Astarion pulls you out of his mouth, murmurs a prestidigitation under his breath to wipe the saliva away, and you shiver at how suddenly cold you feel. He grins lopsidedly down at you. “See? It wasn’t that bad now, was it, darling?” and he presses a sloppy kiss between your legs, against your sensitive vagina, and you shiver.

He settles you down onto his knee, stopping you when you try to grind against him, and he clicks his tongue. You stiffen up, grasping at his leather trousers, bunching it up in your pathetically small hands. He works to unfasten his strings, pausing before he has to set you aside so he can undress himself. You can only watch as his body is revealed to you – blouse peeled off of his body, trousers shoved down and away, and embroidered underwear thrown aside to reveal his horrifically large erection.

It stands painfully erect before you, dripping copiously at its enlarged tip, and Astarion lifts you up again to sit on his abdomen. He leans back, his cock slapping against your back when you sit up, spreading his pre over you, and it feels like you are being marked by some sort of feral beast. Astarion chuckles at the look on your face, a fond expression overtaking him for a moment.

“You always were such a little thing.” he murmurs (he likes how small you are, how he can cage you in his arms and hold you, that you are the smallest out of them all and it makes him want to do terrible things to you while holding you in his arms), “but this is ever sweeter. Do you think you can take me?”

Looking behind yourself, to his hard, large erection that throbs and oozes more pre-cum from your gaze, then looking down at your vulva that feels like it will break in half, you know you can’t. “I will most definitely try.” is what you say instead, because you always want to please him, you know you do.

He helps you move up, his slender fingers wrapping around his pale, pretty penis; not a single hair anywhere, wonderfully thick and perfectly long, spreading you nicely before and now threatening to rip you in half, and he gives himself a few strokes just for some form of relief. You spread your legs, leaning back and his cock slaps against your back when he lets go so that he can instead press his fingers against your small hole.

One finger is a pleasant stretch. It sinks into you readily, making you huff and moan loudly from the sensation; you whimper with a bit of fear when a second finger presses against your wonderfully stuffed hole, his fingernail catching a bit at your rim before he presses it incessantly in. It takes some trying, your tongue rolling out from your panting; you struggle, muscles tensing and relaxing in short little bursts before you finally let that second finger in, and your eyes roll up into your head from the intense stretch.

It sinks in until the second knuckle, your mouth open with endless, whiny moans; it’s so much, forcing your stuffed vagina to accept even more in, and you wail when both fingers are pressed deep inside of you. His large thumb presses down on your sensitive clit and you make a strangled noise, hips jumping forward and you let out a soft squeak at the way his fingers feel inside of you.

“Good, good, you’re doing so good,” he murmurs, sick excitement painting his face and staining his voice as you fuck yourself on his large fingers. You pulse and flutter around his fingers, a shriek pushed out of you when he drags his fingers out just to thrust them mercilessly back in. You are most definitely going to gape the moment his fingers are done with you and Astarion seems to come to the same realisation with how roughly he keeps thrusting them in and out of you.

His cock twitches against you; his eyes are wild, staring down at your poor little hole that is going red from his attentions, stretched wide around his two fingers. When he teases a third one in, you babble incoherently – “I can’t take another!” you cry out and Astarion hushes you.

“You can darling, you can, come on,” he encourages, the third finger feeling almost impossibly too much, yet he still presses it against your fluttering, full hole. You don’t even know how he pushes it in – perhaps when he pulls the two fingers out and introduces the third amidst the soaked two, and it is shameful how much pre you yourself are dripping all over him. You don’t even get a second to register what is happening before he slams three fingers in and you are orgasming violently from the intense, almost-painful stretch.

Squirting copiously, you weep and beg when he keeps his thrusts going, extending your orgasm even as your cum begins puddling on his stomach, and it is only when you can cum no more and your voice is just pathetic whimpering that he pulls his soaked fingers out. His face is utterly wild, making him look almost feral, bestial, and he spreads your folds open further to stare at your gaped open hole.

“That looks like it could take me.” he says with strained breath, voice rough and a low growl, and he grabs you by the hips while you still feel insensate and boneless from your rough orgasm. The head of his cock feels almost comically large as he presses you against it, your hole spasming wildly, clenching up to drip more onto his erection and almost as if dreading how empty it is, before it relaxes open again and Astarion keens loudly.

He pushes you down, your hands flailing a bit before resting on his abdomen when he pushes down enough for it. He isn’t even halfway inside of you before you feel so stuffed, filled up with so much of his penis that you are surprised you haven’t torn completely open; perhaps it is a good thing he introduced the third finger, even though he no doubt adds it in because of the fact that he is lost in the sensation, in the moment. Your claws drag at his belly, sliding against your own cum and he giggles, your own much breathier than his own, because it is ridiculous how much he made you cum.

“You’re so – so – so incorrigible,” you slur out a little, your hole unable to even clench down on his fat erection, and his hands push down on your hips while you try to comply with him. It’s so much – he’s too much as he is right now, hands slipping on his stomach and you arch your back, thighs tensing up from the effort of trying to sink further, further down.

His fingers come to rest on your abdomen, his voice a bit awed as he says, “your belly’s bulging with me. You can’t take me.” but that doesn’t stop him; you look down and see he is right, his shape is poking through, bulging you obscenely with his erection. You feel like you are being hollowed out by him, and it doesn’t help when you aren’t even down all the way and Astarion is grabbing onto you and taking over.

All of your movement is abruptly taken away and controlled entirely by him. You scream so loudly that you are sure even the hunting team, so far away, can hear you; your tongue slips out again, your right hand slipping on his stomach before messily coming to your own clit to stroke and rub it as Astarion begins fucking you.

Both of you are just grunting, groaning animals, him growling exactly like one, and his eyes are wide and feral, focused on how your poor vagina can’t take all of him with how big he is. He babbles incomprehensibly at you, as if trying to praise you, though absolutely nothing he says makes sense, and you can’t help but laugh before it turns into a high-pitched whine.

“Please, cum for me, cum, let me see you cum around me,” Astarion says, the first coherent thing to slip out of his wet lips and his eyes shine bright now with love, and it is that begging, the way he looks at you, that sets you off again. Your orgasm isn’t as violent as the first time, though it still gets to you that you squirt again – far less copiously this time, but still enough to add to the mess already cooling on him, and he coos lovingly at you.

With your legs now shaky, body exhausted by your orgasm, he slows down, his thrusts lazy and leisurely before he digs his feet into the darkened lands with his hands dripping to claw at the earth before he cums deep inside of you. The amount inside makes you yelp – your belly rounds out with his spend and it ends up being too much to stay inside, squirting around him as it starts to escape, and he pulls out to let the rest of it land on your vulva, inner thighs, and even on your stomach.

You can’t clench your hole shut to stop his spend from just dripping out of you, forced into a rather big gape, and you just hum when he settles you down beside him and lets you try and catch your breath.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Astarion begins, and you murmur into his arm that he lets you use as a pillow, “I am aware it was… abrupt, and perhaps I may have pushed you too far, but you were a good sport about it.”

You nuzzle into his elbow. “I’m more glad that you wanted to do this with me,” you say, voice so sleepy, mind more than hazy, “I want you to feel safe to explore whatever you want.” and you don’t get to see his loving, fond gaze before you fall asleep, your body pushed beyond belief.

[When the two of you go back to the camp, way later when his condition seems to have finally faded, you are utterly shamefaced because you both look dishevelled and like you’ve been up to no good, though Astarion seems to be in very bright spirits about it. You try not to maul him violently when he ‘innocuously’ asks Gale if there is any way to adjust one’s size when enlarged. Karlach’s hyena like laughter at your embarrassment makes you wish you could just die.

You hate this vampling so very, very much.]

[gortrash]

I have managed to get my sweet, dear mother to play bg3, and it has enlightened me to paths I did not think were possible.

So right off the bat after crashing she neglected to free Lae’zel. She didn’t even manage to find her. She went back after I told her about it and she’s not even in the cage anymore, and you can’t talk to the tieflings.

She spoke to Wyll in the grove but never recruited him to camp. I have no idea what she did but she managed to get herself ‘banned’ from the grove (although she swears she did no killing or stealing or harm to anyone inside) because there’s thorns all over the entrance? Even though she disagreed with Kagha about the ritual.

So I was like okay that’s fine it’s just two people. You have a full party anyway. That was until Gale spoke to her about his requirements to consume magical items and she refused to feed him stuff, to which he threatened the leave the party, and she said yea alright. So now Gale is gone too.

So I said okay! That’s fine also! We can go pick up Karlach, you’ll like her. So she fights all those gnolls (for a very long time mind you) and she rolls up to Karlach, who INSTANTLY becomes hostile and refuses to join her because according to her my mum had slaughtered the grove…??

So I try and wrap my head around what the hell happened in the grove to warrant all these occurrences. She’s still got the grove quests so I’m like okay, let’s get Halsin.

Halsin is dead. I have no fucking idea how she has managed it, but her quest journal says that Halsin is dead. She hasn’t even gone to the goblin camp yet.

My mum is still in the tutorial part of act 1 and she’s managed to piss off/kill/drive away 5 of the companions. My mind is blown and I am beyond confused. At least she has Astarion and Shadowheart.

[archduke-enver-gortash]

i am so sorry for the amount i am about to send you. general 5, 8, and 9. story specific 1, 5, 10, and 11? you dont have to answer all of them lmao

zeke’s story will never be at full potential without the durge stuff and you didn’t ask for any durge related ones so i will just pretend that he’s still the most specialest bhaalbabe ever just as a companion lol. i’m gonna excuse this self-indulgence by reminding myself that i heard that default durge was supposed to be a companion early in development? anyways.

5. Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

surprisingly it would be pretty hard to get rid of him once you invited him to travel along with you. i wrote a little fic about this scenario a while ago and he’s just a massive self-centered dick when you recruit him but he’s also so insanely confused. not even mentioning the memory loss, he’s a sheltered, paranoid, stressed to hell and back guy who’s being exposed to a new environment and he’s clinging to anything that makes his confusion a little easier—zeke doesn’t know a life without being led by someone, so even if he thinks your leadership is lofty he’ll probably stick around for a while at least, even if you don’t exactly want him around, like a cockroach infestation.

8. What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp?  How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

“Pah, y-you think you and your sorry excuse for a brain up there would survive for A SECOND without my expertise? S-Suit yourself. “ *looks away from player pouting*

“Aha, aha, look who’s here again! Knew you’d crawl back to me. Yes, I suppose I could consider coming with you… Just say the words ‘You were right, Zeke.’ and my mastermind is at your side again. He-Hey! Wait! Don’t leave! For fucks sake, I’m right behind you…”

9. Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

oh god of course. it’s zeke hello. first off we have karlach.

act 1: i think after you’ve traveled with them both for a bit and have beaten the “paladins”/she has revealed her backstory, you get a scene in which you approach zeke like usual but see that his eye is completely blue and bruised, and if you press him he says “that brute devil attacked him for merely trying to have a conversation with her. his fault really, for assuming that she’d be good at anything but mindlessly bashing people’s heads in” (wild statement to make with 6 cha lol) if you then question karlach about it you find out that he was actually incessantly pestering her with questions about her past, completely disregarding her trauma or or discomfort. (this is because his like brain like. tingling? at the gortash mention but he doesn’t know that yet so neither does the player)

act 2/3: so, i haven’t used karlach beyond act 1 yet because i attacked the grove with zeke, so i can’t include anything about her personal quest, but i think they’d sort of. hesitantly grow together over act 2, only for that to get shattered on the big reveal tm at the coronation. there’s so much that can be said about this and i’m already rambling like crazy so i’m gonna summarize: karlach gets super duper fucking pissed, but also is probably smart enough to notice how gortash hurt zeke, not how he hurt her but not any less cruel, when zeke’s mental health starts to deteriorate after reuniting with him. so you can keep them in the party for a while longer together—until zeke straight up tries to murder karlach for being a threat to gortash in a weird panic attack induced mania. he will not have anyone steal his kill. you can either kill him then, let him kill karlach, or knock him out and send him away, but you cannot keep him in your party if you don’t kill karlach.

uugh yikes. shart time!

these bitches are also fighting tm. zeke in the early days essentially sees her as a rubik’s cube to solve, a way to distract himself from his own memory loss by seeking recognition in hers. so while his pestering of her is out of genuine interest, it’s certainly not any less annoying.

zeke also has a complicated relationship with shar. he can get behind the “shadows” aspect, loves those as a stalker, but he has the chronic need to solve mysteries, uncover secrets, know everything, so sharrans are obviously not to keen on him lmao

1. How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

zeke is incredibly distrusting of. well. anything really, so he will advise you to be wary, but he is also smart enough to realize that what they’re saying about them being the only reason they’re protected from the absolute is most likely true, so he tells you to keep them around for as long as they’re useful.

5. How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

asks you how it feels to be one step closer to squid town, then dismissively waves his hand and probably makes a comment how it’ll be fine: there’s not much up there to burrow into anyway. if your approval with him is high he’ll still say that line but sound notably different—louder, more venom, stuttering a lot more, trying to overcompensate for his clear worry for you.

10. How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

wants a bite! zeke is a full body investigator, meaning that he’s not above licking and sniffing everything that seems even mildly intriguing to him lol

11. What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

you don’t get approval or disapproval, when you first prompt him to go he remarks something along the lines of “of course you’d pick me! not like the audience would cheer for any of the other losers in our party” but when you actually force him he’s really nervous lol “o-obviously every good comedian re-rehearses their jokes before! wh-what? no i can improvise, it’s just- well- i’d be at an obvious disadvantage…” and so on lmao

[anabsolutefreak]

Chapter 12: You're Quite Unhinged. I like it.

This is a canon adjacent full campaign based story involving my original TAV character, the full BG3 crew and, of course, our favorite undead high elf. I created this story to help me get through an exceptionally difficult time in my life and so, you might notice Tav's story is a little more atypical than some. Be advised that the story I have created has some mature themes including violence, kink, mental health and self harm. I will be placing warnings on each individual chapter when any of these themes are included so please be aware. I hope you enjoy. Summary: Embrae wakes from her venom induced sickness. Astarion and she engage in a little harmless, entirely too wholesome playfulness which is, not in any way self indulgent on the authors part O.O. MATURE CONTENT: References to possible trauma. Sexual tension maybe but no smut... yet.

She was walking along the beach, the sunlight sparkling across the waves as they lapped at her feet. Her bare feet made impressions in the white sand, swept up behind her by the gentle water as she continued. Behind her, two children laughed, building castles in the sand next to a man with kind eyes. She smiled, contentment blossoming in her chest as they waved at her. Everything was alright today, she thought— perhaps everything would be alright. She lay down in the sand, allowing the waves to lap against her heels as she basked in the golden sunlight. She allowed herself to drift… Too long, she realized, she had lain there too long. It was dark now- the sun was gone- the water up to her face. But she couldn’t stand, couldn’t move. Pain shot across her wrists. 

Voices rose around her, menacing, accusingly. “What did you do?”

“No! Let me go!”

“What did you do?”

“Stop it!”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?”

“Please,” she whimpered.

“Embrae,” another voice commanded. “Embrae wake up!”

She shot up, lunging thoughtlessly at the voice in front of her, fists raised. A hand caught her fist as she tumbled forward, pinning Astarion underneath her. Astarion? She realized. She was at camp, in her tent.

“Well darling, that was a touch aggressive… not that I mind,” said the vampire shimmying underneath her suggestively. 

She sat back, releasing him. Not her tent, she realized— his? Yes, she recognized the mirror, the posh-looking cushions, and the ornate mirror he insisted on keeping for reasons beyond her understanding. He had all of the sides rolled up and she could see that the sun was high in the sky— and that they had moved. No longer were they in the lovely little spot they had been. Now, they were somewhere up against the cliffs. She could hear drums in the background— not the kind she normally did, she was reasonably sure. Someone was playing music.

“When did we move?” She asked, confused.

“Oh, you don’t remember!” Astarion put a hand to his mouth as though feigning shock. “Oh gosh. You mean you don’t recall us virtually carrying you out of Moonhaven? Having to gag you because you couldn’t stop insulting everyone? You very nearly got us murdered by a hoard of angry goblins when you called their leader a short angry muppet— whatever the hells that is. 

“What? No!”

“Yes,” he said. “Anyways, we had to have Karlach run ahead and fetch Shadowheart because you simply were being simply intractable. Lae’zel suggested knocking you out but your brain already seemed a bit, shall we say, addled. I thought perhaps we ought not to take the risk. Shadowheart healed you but she said you had waited too long for the antidote and that it would take a while for— whatever this is.” He waved vaguely at her, “to leave your system.”

“Damn it. So, um. How long?” 

“A whole day and a half. But don’t worry; we’ve gotten quite a lot done while you were gone. Let’s see— will and I scouted the Goblin Camp and even got us an invite for the party tomorrow. That’s where we are now, with their blessing— just outside their stronghold. Oh, and I found the druid— at least I assume it’s the druid. I don’t see any other reason they’d be keeping a giant bear in the worg pens.” He sniffed.

Embrae’s head was spinning with the information. “How did you manage to get an invite?”

He tapped his forehead. “Courtesy of this little bugger. Evidently, all true souls are VIPs.”

“Well, looks like you don’t need me around after all.”

“Oh don’t say that darling. It would be so terribly dull around here without you. Even tormenting Gale loses its charm after a while you know. And who else would ever call Lae’zel a lizard dominatrix?”

The blood left Embrae’s face. “I didn’t.” She said, horrified. 

“You did,” he said, apparently delighted. “I’d— steer clear of her for a bit if I were you. She didn’t find it as funny as I did… You really are quite unhinged at times you know… I like it.”

Embrae sat back, sighing. “Shit.”

Astarion giggled. “Here,” he said handing her a flask. “Shadowheart said to hydrate when you woke.”

Embrae took a long drink. “Where is she? Where is everybody?” She looked around but couldn’t see anyone except— “The dog!” She gasped, scrambling to her feet. Astarion didn’t stop her but followed her out of the tent. The white dog trotted up to her panting happily as he wagged his tail. She had found him a few days ago next to the body of his master. He had refused to leave his master’s side at the time, so she had used animal speak to let him know he was welcome to come find them. 

She kneeled, rubbing behind his ears. His eyes closed and his jaw dropped into a doggy grin. She looked at his collar. “Good boy Scratch,” she crooned. 

“Yes,” he sighed. “You’re tendency to pick up strays knows no bounds.” 

“Lucky for you,” she quipped. 

“Excuse me. If anything, I picked you up.”

“If you say so.” She gave Scratch a final pat and stood. She felt good— well rested actually. 

“So, where are the others.”

“Well, let’s see. “Gale and Shadowheart are off in search of a potent poison to spike the goblin’s beer tomorrow, whilst Wyll, Karlach, and Laezel, are using the time to search for infernal metal, I believe.”

“Poisoning the goblins. Huh, that could work. And what about you? Did you volunteer for babysitting Embrae duty or did you draw the short straw today?”

“Perhaps I just felt like playing the part of a man of leisure today.”

“And how’s that going?” 

“Terribly. You snore— when you aren’t talking or screaming.”

“I do not snore!” Her face reddened. “You could have left me in my tent. I’m sure I would have been fine.”

“My tent is bigger.” He paused. “What do you dream about anyway? It sounds positively dreadful.”

She sighed. “Different things, really,” she admitted. “But mostly they seem to end with me being immobile, bleeding— while people accuse me of doing something. I don’t know what— but whatever it was must have been pretty terrible.”

“Hmm, so those weren’t moans of pleasure after all.”

She laughed. “No… Your turn. What do you dream about?”

He scoffed and looked away. “Oh come on, don’t be like that,” she laughed. She nudged him playfully with her hip. “I told you mine… You can trust me, you know?”

His face became hard as he looked down at her. “No, I don’t know that,” he snapped. Embrae took a step back, hurt. 

“I’m— sorry. Of course, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” It had been a stupid question anyway, she realized. Shit, what else would he dream of if not his former master?

“No it’s—” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to— well, whatever this is.” He indicated between himself and Embrae. “I don’t— trust people and with good reason.”

“Yeah, I get that.” She did, of course, but it still hurt. She wanted him to trust her. Hadn’t she trusted him, after all? Stupid, she thought. Why did she trust the vampire who had nearly slit her throat when they first met, who had nearly drank her dry in the middle of the night?

His breath came out in a hiss. “I was thinking, now you’re up and about— would you do something for me?”

“Yeah of course.”

“I’ve been thinking about the scars on my back, trying to read them by touch… They may as well be written in Rashimi. Stupid, after all this time. Knowing what they say won’t change what he did to me but—”

“Did you— want me to take a look?”

“It— I know it isn’t your problem.” Why was he so agitated about asking for help? Because he doesn’t trust anyone, she reminded herself. 

“I know it isn’t. No shut up and show me.”

He looked at her, ruby eyes searching, vulnerable she realized. Then he turned, lifting the white shirt up and off of him and standing straight so she could see. 

She couldn’t read it. She didn’t even have the slightest clue what language it could be in. The symbols were strange, sharp, and vicious. She shuddered as she thought about the malicious hand that had carved them and the pain it must have caused. 

“Well?” He demanded. “What do you see?”

“I’m not sure but— I could show you, if you’ll let me?”

She reached out, touching his mind with her own. She felt her tadpole move in response. Understanding dawned in his eyes and he gave her an almost imperceptible nod as he accepted the connection. She shied away from his thoughts, although she could feel them on the edge of her consciousness, full of darkness and fear. She wasn’t doing this to avoid his privacy. Instead, she focused on his back, taking in the complex lines and shapes that covered it and allowing him to see. He gasped. “Is that— infernal?” She could feel his anxiety rising. “What did that bastard do to me?” He said it in almost a whisper and, she couldn’t help it, her eyes flicked up to his face, still craning towards her so that his profile was visible.

 Anxiety turned to shock as Astarion saw his own face and he turned around, eyes wide. She felt herself being drawn into his mind, despite her resistance— she tried to pull back but not quickly enough. She felt a sharp pain in her own back as the point of a blade dragged down. A strangled scream ripped from her throat that wasn’t her own— cold, malicious laughter, sharp as the knife itself, cut into the darkness. She pulled and broke the connection with a groan. 

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I wasn’t trying to pry.”

He waved a hand, his eyes absent. “It’s— it’s fine.”

“No—” she snapped. “It’s not.” She could still feel the shadow of the knife, and hear that evil laughter in the back of her mind. “What’s infernal?” She asked, rubbing her head. 

“The language of the hells,” he said thoughtfully.

“Could you read it?”

“No.” 

“Did he— I don’t know, do the same to any of his other—-?

“His other spawn?” He finished for her. “I’ve no idea. Not that I noticed. But— it’s possible.”

“We could ask the others. Maybe Karlach—”

Panic touched his eyes and he shook his head. “No, let’s just keep this between us— at least for now. Gods… Two centuries carrying this and I could finally see it. This is— well it’s something, I suppose.” He looked up at her with a small smile and offered a small bow. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “Was that— is that really what I look like?”

“You didn’t know,” she realized.

“Well of course not. I haven’t seen this face since it grew fangs and its eyes turned red.”

“I mean, I think it’s a very nice face,” she hedged. 

“Very nice!” He huffed. “Is that really the best you can do darling? Try majestic, heartbreaking,— be creative.”

She giggled. “Is that all you want? Shallow praise?”

He grinned at her. “Oh no darling,” he said waving his hands theatrically. “There’s also blood, gold, revenge, power— quite a list really. But in the absence of those, I will always settle for shallow praise.”

“Well, I’m not that great at shallow,” she said smirking. “But for you, princess, perhaps, I can come up with something.”

His red eyes widened. “Princess!” he gasped at her in mock outrage. “Take that back at once.” 

“Or what?” She grinned wickedly. “You’ll bite me?”

His eyes gleamed seductive. “Oh no, no, no... You enjoy that far too much. I’ve got something far worse planned for you if you don’t take it back.” He sank into a crouch. 

She stared at him, considering. “In that case-” she leaned closer to him, taking in his scent as she whispered into his ear. “I am so very sorry.” Then she nipped his neck— hard, eliciting a yelp of surprise and outrage from the vampire. Then, she bolted towards the river. 

She didn’t hear him behind her but she knew he was there, likely silently gaining on her. Her heart beat frantically in her chest at the thought and adrenaline coursed in her veins. I might have taken that a little far, a small part of her worried. She pushed the thought back. If the man couldn’t handle a bite, he was definitely a princess… and a hypocrite. She had reached the water now and panting, she looked over her shoulder— The light was fading, shadows cast by several large, gnarled trees near the shallow water. She stopped and looked around, a growing sense of trepidation in her chest. “Astarion?” She called out uncertainly. There was no response, no sound at all. Fuck.

She took a few uncertain steps forward then yelped as a sudden weight dropped down on her from a large tree. Astarion’s eyes gleamed red in the now-fading light as he smirked at her, his legs straddling her as he pinned her to the ground. He tilted his head, considering. “I thought we were supposed to ask before we bite, darling,” he purred. “Yet, twice now, you’ve broken that rule.”

“Oh come on now,” Embrae giggled beneath him. “The first time doesn’t count.” 

He ignored her, dipping his head towards her neck and inhaling deeply as she squirmed beneath him. “Shall we settle the score then, you delicious thing?” He crooned brushing his teeth against the skin of her neck.” She fought back an embarrassing whimper as her heart pounded in anticipation at the thought. but he pulled his teeth and, without warning, dug his fingers into her ribs instead.

 She yelped, writhed, and gasped beneath the elf as he tickled her relentlessly. “Astarion—” she gasped between giggles. 

“Say sorry,” he ordered. She could hear laughter in his voice as his fingers continued their relentless onslaught at her sides. 

“I’m— I’m sorry,” she pleaded breathlessly as she tried to fight him off between peals of laughter.

His fingers stilled and he bent down again, nipping gently at her ear. “Are you though? Are you really? Then say it properly.” His breath tickled against her skin. They were right at the bank of the river now, the water flowing but shallow beside them and Embrae grinned, seeing an opportunity. 

 “Astarion,” she said, forcing penance into her tone. He pulled back to look at her, waiting. “I am so sorry,” she said, her eyes wide and contrite. Then, using all of her strength, she rolled them both into the cold water.

His yelp of surprise and outrage was worth the cold shock, she decided, as she stood laughing in the shallow water. He stood a couple of paces away from her completely soaked, looking remarkably like a cat who had just been forced, unwillingly into a bath. His clothing was waterlogged and covered in mud and his white curls lay flat on his head. “You little—” he gasped. Embrae was gasping for breath, doubled over as she laughed at his waterlogged outrage. He looked at her sullenly which only made her laugh more, hilarity taking over her body completely. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed— really laughed. When the giggles finally subsided, she looked up. The vampire was standing in front her her, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. She nearly dissolved into giggles again. 

“Well,” he said. “If you’re quite finished, I think I’d like to go dry off… the others will be back soon and wondering where we are.” He squelched out of the water with every ounce of dignity a wet feline could muster. She followed him out of the water, still chuckling. Once they were both on solid ground he rounded on her, grasping her arms. “You know,” he said, “Now you’ve got me chilled to the bone with no natural body heat of my own, I believe you owe me a drink.”

She tilted her neck up agreeably. “Fair enough— but be careful. All this laughing, I’m afraid I might taste… funny.” She snorted at the hilarity of her terrible pun. 

Astarion rolled his eyes and groaned in chagrin. “I really should just drain you dry for that one.” Then, he bent and sank his teeth into her neck. 

Later, when the others arrived back at camp they found the elf and the half-elf deep in their respective trance and slumber. They were covered in mud and lay side by side next to the fire, not quite touching. 

“I told him to hydrate her, not drink her,” groaned the cleric as she took in the fresh bite marks at Embrae’s neck. 

“Perhaps— and this is just a thought,” said Gale dryly. “A vampire is not the best choice to leave with the sick and mind-addled.”

“Aw, look at them though,” said Karlach. “How do you think they got covered in mud?”

“I’d really rather not know,” scowled Shadowheart. 

Lae’zel tutted in disgust and turned towards her tent. "Idiots.”

[rottenbrainstuff]

BG3 playthrough: DONE ACT 1

Major Spoilers!

One important note to start: I see a lot of people say they’re not sure if they should give the gith egg to Lady Esther or not, they feel uncomfortable, they feel like they’re going to experiment on it, I saw someone say. Experiment. I’m kind of disappointed in these reactions… Lady Esther says, they want to take the child and raise it out of its culture to see if it can be “cured” of its “violent nature.” This should really be immediately reminding North Americans of the native residential schools. That was literally the reason they were started, that was literally their mandate. I’m kind of disappointed any North Americans playing this game didn’t automatically see the enormous red flag there and think of residential schools.

My oldest kiddo has started the game and I’ve been comparing notes. It seems like the latest patch might have fixed some frustrating weirdness, ie, some approvals have been fixed so you always get them instead of having to pick extremely specific, non-obvious dialogue branches sometimes, the owlbear cub now seems to show up at the goblin camp if you use speak with animal on the mum whereas before it would only show up with a handle animal check, etc etc. Little housekeeping things. That’s neat. So keep in mind, things I noted in previous posts that would only work if you did X or Y now may work much more broadly.

Anyway the rest of the crèche. Well, fuck me.

So previously I dicked around and did all the fun stuff in the crèche: defacing portraits, Ko’kuu and the unhatched egg, Varrl, comparing dialogue when I spoke to people vs the reactions Lae’zel got… fun, cute. I even blew everything up with the blood of lathander to see if I could get that cutscene where Astarion throws a fit (note: he must be resurrected by Withers, if you bring him back with a scroll he doesn’t have the dialogue, for some reason)

Now I went back to try to do the plotty stuff, the zaith’isk and the inquisitor. Fuck. Everything here is a clusterfuck and there are no good outcomes. I feel so bad for Lae’zel, and my brain is going crazy thinking about things.

So the zaith’isk: man. You can either insist that you’re going first without any good reason, or you can let Lae’zel go first like she wants. The zaith’isk is going to cause some REALLY awful PERMANENT stat damage if you fail some rolls, and the damage might not be immediately obvious. (One unfortunate player said they only noticed the damage 12 hours later!!) If Lae’zel goes, the DC rolls to prevent the damage are horribly high. If you go, the DCs are lower, but the dialogue convincing her to let you go first sucks. And whatever happens, Lae’zel is still clinging to her faith in vlaakith and it’s horrible to watch. Sadly, roleplay taken into consideration, time wasted rerolling a million times taken into consideration, in the end I decided to let her go first and let the first check fail, so that’s a permanent -2 to int for her. I dunno. I think it makes story sense for all of this to leave a permanent mark on her, and gameplay-wise, an intelligence hit won’t be too critical for her, being a fighter. I made the next check because it gave a deception option and my check for that is higher and got her out of that fucking machine. Harrowing. It was never designed to heal anyone in the first place. Even Astarion was yelling at me to get her out of that thing.

And then the inquisitor.

Dream guardian spoilers below - this is the one area I wish hadn’t been spoiled for me before I started playing, so read more at your own risk.

So man, this all is really interesting. I’ve read general spoilers about the dream visitor, I know about the Emperor, but knowing this I think is actually just making me even MORE confused. (But in a good way! It’s amazing that even though I’ve read end-of-game spoilers, I still don’t know what’s going on, and I’m still surprised at what is happening. I think that’s the mark of really good writing) So look, I just found two secret forbidden books about Orpheus, I just talked to a cute githyanki kid about Orpheus, I’ve heard about his history and the heretical story that he’s actually the rightful heir and Vlaakith is a usurper. And now guess what, suddenly everyone is saying there’s a person trapped in the prism, suddenly everyone is trying to find them, suddenly everyone is saying they have a secret that will cause a revolution against Vlaakith, suddenly I go inside the prism and whose ass do I meet while I am there… Is the Emperor / the game actually trying to trick the player into thinking he is Orpheus? Do players who haven’t read any spoilers think the dream visitor may be Orpheus in some way? When Vlaakith is talking about needing to kill the one inside the artifact because they are lying and corrupt, who is she actually talking about? Orpheus or the dream visitor? When Voss says he wants to free the tenant of the prism, does he have any idea that there’s apparently two people in there? Why the hell is the guardian even there at all? What is he doing? Why is he fighting Orpheus if they both appear to want the same thing? Hey on that note, why does the emperor glance at dead mindflayers on the nauteloid in the starting cinematic before the dragons have even attacked the ship at all? Why is he not on the ship during the escape? What exactly is happening in that beginning cinematic????? WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON??!??

I have so many questions! (Good questions! It’s fun to think about! Please don’t tell me any answers. I’d rather find out the rest through the game now, if I can)

And god, Lae’zel was still clinging to some last little shred of hope that this is all still just a big test for her to pass. Man. What a clusterfuck at this crèche. I was not prepared for everything that happened. I loved all the parts where Lae’zel was yelling at me to do things and the dream visitor was yelling at me to stop, one in each ear like damn I don’t know who to trust and I don’t know what to do. Everyone stop yelling at me and let me think for five minutes would you??? Incredible.

And then after all that, Voss shows up!!! That was hilarious, because I wasn’t expecting him. When I woke up, I thought maybe Lae’zel wanted to get busy again but no, it’s his old face and troll doll-ass hair. He’s also talking about how he’s been searching for aeons to find the prism and free the one that’s trapped inside it. He must mean Orpheus, and the dream visitor seems content to let us continue down that path of assumption. Even Lae’zel thinks it’s ok to trust him now! She used to the be the one the most sure that it was all a mindflayer trick! How fascinating!

I need my oldest kiddo to hurry up and get to this point in the game. As far as I know she hasn’t read endgame spoilers and I desperately want to hear her thoughts about the dream guardian at the end of act 1.

It all reminds me a bit of the faun from Pan’s Labyrinth, and how each meeting with him made your feelings about him swing back and forth between trust and distrust.

Last note: I seem to have found an infinite backpack glitch at the very start of act 2. Too bad it’s not an actually useful / valuable item, but it still made me laugh. I wonder if I should collect a whole bunch of backpacks and make a backpack shrine somewhere…..

On to act 2! I can’t wait to see what my lovely tiefling friends have been up to, I’m sure they’ve all been traveling SAFE AND SOUND on the road!!

[the-apocryphal-one]

Next of Kin

Summary: A special kind of pain squeezes her heart. The soft question that emerges from her lips is only natural. “Do you have any family?”Astarion x Isaniel

Also available at AO3 and ff.net!

-

A/N: Merry Christmas to all your lovely readers!

-

She should have done this before now. She knows she should have.

But there just hadn’t been time, at first. In the earliest days after her infection, she’d been teetering on a tightwire of panic and desperation, hastily cobbling together plans to get this thing out. Even when they’d stopped to eat or make camp, the thought of writing a letter to her son had never entered her mind—much to her shame.

Then, as days passed and nothing seemed to happen, she’d grown complacent. Maybe their parasites were defective. Maybe the ceremorphosis had failed. Maybe they could walk away from this with nothing more than some trauma and psionic abilities.

Then the sickness came and slapped her in the face with the reminder that nothing about these parasites is normal, nothing can be taken for granted, and nothing is all her son will know of her fate if she’s not careful.

But how do you do it? How do you say goodbye to your only child across hundreds of miles with no body language or facial expressions?

For the past few nights, Isaniel has been trying and failing to figure that out. Each time, she has pulled out parchment, stared at it for an indeterminate amount of time, laboriously pushed out a few words, stared some more, then folded it back up and returned it to her pack.

Tonight, she vows as she sits near a large, flat rock that will substitute as a desk, she’s not getting up until this letter is done. She pulls it out of her jerkin, smooths it out, places it on the rock, and uses a few pebbles to hold the corners down.

Selakiir, it says.

If you’re reading this, I’m very likely dead or worse. We can never foresee our fates, but I have a reasonable certainty as to what my particular ‘or worse’ is. The details are included in an additional, enclosed letter. That had already been written, perversely coming easier than this one. You may ignore it if you wish. I would not hold it against you if you did.

That was as far as she’d gotten. Now, she dips the quill back in the inkpot, sucks in a breath, and pens, I hope that the person who delivers this will be able to give you a first-hand account of my fate, so they can

Soothe you? Selakiir is bafflingly, wonderfully outgoing…but he is also private in his grief. When his father died, he withdrew from adventuring, his friends, even her. He’s not the type to accept banal well-wishes, especially from strangers.

answer any questions you have.

Her quill stalls. She stares at the drying ink, trying to muster up something else to say.

When she writes letters, they always end up much like her: detached and logical. But this is supposed to be a goodbye letter. The last thing her son might have of her. It…it has to be right. She can’t leave him feeling like she saw this as some sort of duty. If there’s one thing she’s always wanted to make sure Selakiir knew, and was always afraid he didn’t, it was that she loved him.

Remember: my love for you is like the moon. There are nights when it doesn’t know how to show all its self, but it is always there.

No, that should be in the closing paragraph. It’d be more final, more poetic. A lovely note to leave things on. But she can’t make herself scratch it out. There’s this foolish, superstitious fear that Selakiir will find out and be hurt. Isaniel grimaces, struggling to wrestle small talk, emotion, something onto the paper so it’s more than this dry thing.

It’s almost funny that I ended up adventuring like you

We’ll meet again in Eilistraee’s

I’m sorry I won’t be there for your wedding. The present I was making is in

Don’t you dare try to avenge me. Stay far away from

Isaniel presses her head against the heel of one hand and bites down an uncharacteristic scream. The paper’s empty spaces and crossed-out lines mock her.

“If you stare at that any more intensely, it’ll burst into flames.”

“Iblith!” she curses, startling so fiercely she upends the inkpot. She’s still thinking in Undercommon, so her next few words come out in it before she catches herself and switches back to Overcommon. “Dos olist mzild taga���stop that.”

Astarion is bent double with laughter, guffawing so hard some of the others are glancing their way. There are actually tears in his eyes. “And miss out on the chance to see you jump like a wet cat? I could never.”

Gods, he can be so juvenile sometimes. Something dangerously close to affection laces that thought, banishing the bitter frustration of failure.

Ever since that day he recoiled from her hand, Astarion has haunted her thoughts more than she would like. She has sought him out more frequently, asking questions, trying to understand him, trying to sort out what she should feel. He is dark and dangerous and cruel—and yet there is something in him, raw, genuine pain that mirrors what she once knew, that she cannot turn away from.

So, Isaniel is not surprised that Astarion’s bouts of childishness have become something she can think on with almost-fondness. Empathy, revulsion, confusion, curiosity already spin together in a whirlpool; what’s one more emotion on the pile?

That doesn’t stop her from shooting him a dour look as she rights the inkpot, though. “I will remind you that I have a rapier and that someday, I’ll be so startled I’ll stab first and ask questions later.”

“Ha! Duly noted.” Astarion gingerly—because of course he’s still worrying about getting stains on his clothes—sits next to her. Unabashedly, he peers at her pathetic letter. “What are you writing?”

She lets him peek. There’s no way he knows Undercommon…and even if he does, he won’t break her cipher. “A letter to my son. In case I die or transform.”

“Your son? That is a very important letter. Who will you entrust with its delivery?”

“Whoever among us is still alive, I suppose.”

“My, don’t you have a low opinion of our abilities.”

It’s not quite that; more like she’s just not picky. But he’s clearly preparing to launch into some spiel, so she chooses to simply wait rather than argue the point.

He doesn’t make her wait long, gesturing dramatically with his hands as he speaks. “Not that you’re wrong. Without you keeping his thirst for revenge and delusions of grandeur in check, Wyll will run off and get himself killed. Lae’zel and Shadowheart will kill each other before the sun goes down. Gale—” He chuckles. “Well. Need I go on?”

Irritation nips at her. Eilistraee knows her companions’ colorful range of personalities have given Isaniel more than one headache, but she still feels protective of them. “Yes, actually—or am I supposed to believe you wouldn’t be leaping into situations fangs first?”

“Ah, but if there’s one thing you can trust me to do, it’s survive those situations. I can see that letter to your son, darling.”

She snorts at his transparency. “You just want to read it.”

He just shamelessly grins, unapologetic about being found out.

Isaniel toys with and discards the idea of chastising him. The matter is too small to make a fuss over, and his cat-like tread and nimble fingers mean he can very much lift the letter off her if he wants. Although…hm. Maybe she can twist this back around on him. She shrugs with feigned disinterest. “Well, it’s not like you could, anyway.”

Astarion inspects his nails. “Oh, I’m sure I can get a scroll of Comprehend Languages somewhere.”

“It’s not just in Undercommon. It’s encoded too.”

He’s visibly taken aback by that. It’s childish of her, but she can’t help thinking, That’s a point for me. Gods, it’s too fun to match wits with him. “You write to your son in code?”

“It was a game we played when he was little.” It had simultaneously been a way to teach him and soothe her paranoia. “We’ve kept it up since.”

In a calculated move, Astarion twists and leans in close. His voice drops, becomes husky. “You do know there’s nothing more tempting than something you can’t have, yes?” His eyes deliberately trace a path up her neck and settle on her mouth.

He’s trying to knock her off balance. Isaniel would rather walk barefoot on hot coals than let him know he has—though not, she suspects, for the reasons he intended. Let him stare at her mouth or neck, he’s a flirt and a vampire spawn. No, the feel of his breath tickling her skin, the way his hand is almost but not quite brushing hers, is more alarming. It’s too intimate. Distracting.

She hastily delivers the coup de grace before he can spot the rapid flutter of her pulse. “What better way to guarantee your delivery? Stubbornness or curiosity will make you hold onto it until you crack it. But you won’t, so you’ll have to bring it to Selakiir to find out what it says.”

A heartbeat. Two. Then Astarion laughs, throaty and deep, sits back, and shakes his head. “Well played, my dear.”

With fresh distance between them, Isaniel exhales in relief. She hastily tries to cover it up by pretending to shift in her seat, but there’s a certain twinkle in Astarion’s eyes that tells her she failed. She clears her throat, praying that her face doesn’t betray her fluster. “I’ll give it to you when I’m done.”

She expects that to be the end of it, for Astarion to fire a parting quip and wander off to tease someone else. But her surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he props his chin in his hand and studies her.

That look in his eyes…is that actual curiosity?

Like paper thrown into fire, her own is fanned. She hasn’t bothered to ask how old he is, but she can make an educated guess. The Underdark’s abusive culture forces drow to mentally mature well before their twenties; surface elves like Astarion can afford to wait until their first century or so. Of course, magistrate isn’t the type of position you typically get straight out of adolescence, so there could be anywhere from a rough fifty years to another two hundred on top of that. For some reason, she doesn’t peg him as any more than three hundred, pre-turn. Post-turn adds another two centuries.

For humans, several hundred years encompasses several generations. But for an elf… His parents and siblings could still be alive. So could his possible children. Unless he, like her, had a half-human child. They would have died in the time he spent enslaved.

Selakiir’s warm brown eyes and smiling face flash across her mind. A special kind of pain squeezes her heart. The soft question that emerges from her lips is only natural. “Do you have any family?”

A shadow briefly flickers across his face; then, like a rat fleeing for its life, it is gone. He smiles brightly and waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, let’s not exhume the past. There’s nothing interesting about it.”

Isaniel furrows her brow, but before she can say anything, Astarion rises, brushes his trousers off, and struts away. As is all-too-common of late, her gaze lingers on him until he disappears inside his tent. She exhales slowly. If he departed with such alacrity, it’s probably for the best she didn’t get to push him. Eilistraee knows how well that went over last time, and she’d just been clumsily trying to comfort him.

She glances down at the letter. Inspiration strikes. Spontaneously, she pens in another sentence. If accompanying this letter is a pale, white-haired elf named Astarion, point him to the Dancing Haven.

It’s unusually risky of her. If Cazador really will stop at nothing to get Astarion back, she could be bringing a vampire lord down on her congregation. And Astarion just might be callous enough to repay them by selling them out or abandoning them. He does not deserve such risks, the old Isaniel insists.

But then, she wouldn’t be here now if an Eilistraeen hadn’t taken a risk for her over a century ago, when she hadn’t deserved it.

She adds, I don’t know if he’ll actually go there, but like me, he’s fled some sort of dark past. I hope that, in absence of my aid, he can at least find refuge.

Bantering with Astarion seems to have unlocked some wellspring of words from deep within her; the mention of her past gives her the subject. Speaking of which, you may have all my belongings, including the forge and the new house. The password to disarm the magical traps is the same as our old one—I hope you remember it? Your father was always fondly exasperated by my insistence on having them, but you loved to show them off to your friends. My memories of you two are the best in my life…

-

The next day, she hands Astarion several pages and a “thanks” that holds more meaning than he knows.

-

Drow isn’t officially a language in 5e, but it was in older editions. So even though Isaniel was technically speaking in Undercommon for a bit, I went ahead and borrowed words from their dictionary. Rough translation:

Iblith: shit

Dos olist mzild taga: You stealth (intended to be akin to sneak or skulk) more than— (“a drider” is what she would have finished with)

Also Overcommon is just Isaniel’s name for Common.

[timeforelfnonsense]

Lost and Found

Astarion x Dafni 

Rating: T

Hurt/Comfort

TW for depression mention 

Ao3

I’ve been working on this bad boy for a month and it’s done at last!

 An important note: There is some reference to the Lolth Sworn drow in this and I feel the need to clear the air and state that I have some issues with the way WotC characterizes the drow as inherently evil. My house rules are that none of the races are inherently evil because the broad strokes in the source material as problematic af. So while the followers of Lolth might be evil I want to make it clear that doesn't equal all drow are bad. Dafni holds all varieties of elves in tender regard. As an eladrin of the fey wilds and a follower of Corellon she understands that fluid and changing nature of all living things. Life is messy and people do not fit into boxes, very few folks are all bad or all god. Not every elf worships the Seldarine and that’s ok. A fundamental part of Corellon is freedom and choice therefore it would be foolish to insist her path is the only right one. Her issue is with Lolth not the drow as a whole.

The Underdark was a horrid and forsaken place. A shudder ran down Dafni’s spine as she rubbed away the gooseflesh cropping up across her arms. Lolth’s influence hung heavy in the stale air. She would have to step lightly. A cleric of Corellon would be a great prize to the followers of the Spider Queen. She missed the warm sun on her face, the feeling of grass beneath her bare feet. She could feel herself wilting under the oppressive darkness that surrounded them.

Anxiety was a strange and forging feeling. The majority of her 160 years had been spent embodying the playful delight of spring. Perhaps it was on account of her relative youth. Or, maybe it was the influence of Corellon Larethian, whose wild and wonderful influence she had felt all her life. He had looked out for her. Cared for her as a father would his child. Truly, Corellon felt as much a parent to her as her mother, Thesmia did. A meek half-smile tugged at the corner of her lips. He had given her a reason to leave home when the wanderlust became far too much for her to contain. If she was to flourish as both an elf and a divine servant, Dafni would need to truly know herself beyond being Thesmia’s shadow. Absentmindedly her fingers reached for the familiar crescent moon that hung from her neck.

Her feet skidded to a halt, her trembling hand pulled away empty. Her blood turned to ice. An agonizing dagger of guilt pierced her heart and she felt as though the ground beneath her would open up and swallow her whole. Part of her wished that it would. She had carried the holy symbol since she was a young girl. Though she knew in her soul it had been her’s even before that. It had served as her connection not just to her god, but her heritage and primal spirit- The very essence of her being. 

“I lost it.” Her voice was less than a whisper, stunned and distant. Tears began to well up in her eyes. The world around her was growing colder by the second. “My amulet is gone.” Her breath began to come out in heaves and she began to sob in earnest. “It- It must have gotten lost when the minotaur tossed me!” 

 Her sharp cry stopped her traveling companions in their tracks. Each of their faces dressed in varying degrees of confusion and concern. Gale began to speak but his words were drowned out but the low ringing in her ears. A dizzy, sickening feeling bloomed in her gut and the edges of her vision began to blur as the darkness she had so feared gripped her soul.

They had doubled back to the old Selûnite fort. The others were still there setting up a temporary camp. Shadowheart hadn’t been able to find anything physically wrong with her aside from the normal bumps and scrapes that were to be expected on an active adventurer. 

Astarion felt truly helpless for the first time since he’d escaped Cazador’s clutches. It had been an hour and Dafni had yet to wake. He clasped her hand in his. A soft blue had slowly been spreading over her sage-green skin, creeping its way from the tips of her fingers to the crown of her head. Her locks were shifting at the root from rosy pink to a frosty teal. The flowers that wove through her loose ponytail had all weathered into dust. 

He squeezed her hand, “Come on Daffodil…”

Gale had been fairly positive that this was, to some extent normal for the eladrin of the Feywilds. Something about a book he’d read by some notable wizard? Truth be told Astarion hadn’t been paying much attention. He was too busy staring down Lae’zel, who’s paranoia filled gaze had been locked on Dafni’s sleeping form from the moment they’d returned. 

He should have been annoyed at her. The loss of some silly costume jewelry had caused her to swoon like a high born lady. He knew she was made of stronger stuff than that. Her little spell had put them all behind and left them without a healer the whole trek back to the fort. Yet, try as he might Astarion couldn’t seem to conjure up the ire he held for those too weak to survive hardship on their own.

 He groaned, letting his head hit the wall behind him with a soft thunk. There it was again- That damn sentimentality! By the Hells, he was a vampire, not a nursemaid! What had gotten into him? 

“You should rest.” Wyll placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll keep an eye on her for a bit.” 

His eyes went narrow, a low growl rumbling in his chest. The idea of leaving her while she was vulnerable made his blood boil. 

I’ll watch your back and you watch mine…

Her promise echoed through his thoughts. Dafni had held her end of the bargain with unwavering resolve. If he left now it would feel too much like betraying the one person he’d allowed even a fragment of trust in the past two centuries.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t an appropriate reaction.” He muttered while he whisked away an icy tear from her cheek. “I’m just a bit... Out of sorts.” 

Wyll nodded, taking a seat on the dusty floor beside him, “Hey, she’s tough. She’ll pull through, whatever this is.” The warlock gave him an almost smug look, “You really care for her don’t you?” 

“I hardly see how that’s any of your concern.” He sneered with a wave of his hand, “Besides, my concern is simply a matter of pragmatism. Our little band of misfits can’t afford to lose our best healer-” Astarion hesitated for a moment before adding, “Don’t tell Shadowheart I said that. We need not add my body to the pile- Should things go poorly.” 

“If I promise not to sell you out will you take a break?” 

For the first time since she had fainted, he noticed the scratchy dryness in his throat. Astarion scowled, there was little in the way of appetizing food that he had seen but he would just have to make due. He was loathed to leave her side but Wyll was a good man, a better one than him in truth. He would keep her safe. 

“What’s this? The legendary Blade of the Frontiers, stooping to common blackmail.” He tried to keep his tone flat but he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips, “Fine, I’ll take a break. I’m a bit parched anyway. I suppose I’ll try to track something palatable down here. Unless…”

 He arched an eyebrow towards Wyll who moved away with an overstated scoot. 

“Not a chance, now go!” 

Cold. 

A crushing, all-consuming chill wrapped its arms around her spirit. Spring had left her. Now she stood alone in the isolating melancholy of winter. She reached out for the familiar warmth of The Protector but here- In this cursed place his influence felt far and foreign. If only she had her holy amulet. It could have served as a compass leading her back to Corellon’s embrace. She would simply have to press on. She had put them behind already and there was no time for sentiment. She wouldn’t be able to cast spells until she found a replacement and the chances of a spare symbol of her god in the Underdark were laughable. Dafni tried to sniff back the tears pricking at the edges of her eyes but it was no use. They rolled down her baby blue cheeks freezing before they could fall to the ground. She glanced up at Astarion, who walked a few paces ahead. While Gale and Wyll had spent the better part of a day coddling her, he had remained distant. 

Maybe he didn’t want her like this? Her sadness threatened to consume anyone near her and he had enough grief of his own. He had admitted once that he enjoyed having her near. Whispered in her ear that she was sunlight and happiness made flesh as he took her in a flower patch of her own creation. 

The feeling of a gentle hand pulled her from her thoughts. Gale offered her a small smile before speaking, “Are you all right?” 

“Oh-” She sniffed, whipping away another frozen tear, “I’ll be alright. I just don’t feel much like myself right now.” 

Gale nodded in response, “Yes, I can see that. Perhaps we shouldn’t have brought you here. The Underdark does seem quite at conflict with the very core of your being.”

A mournful laugh escaped her aching chest, “I don’t think we’d have had any better luck with that shadow curse above ground. No, my sorrow isn’t a good enough reason to risk the rest of the group’s safety.” She brought an icy hand to Gale's cheek, causing him to shiver, “I appreciate your concern but really I’ll be alright. We eladrin are ruled by our emotions, a shift of season was inevitable at some point or another. It’s unfortunate for the rest of you it had to be winter. Things are dire enough without my sorrowful presence bringing you all down with me. Perhaps it would be best for all of you to keep your distance.”

 She sighed, her eyes falling on Astarion, who lingered just on the edge of the bitter cold her sadness created. While it pained her to say it, she knew he was right to keep away. The others should do the same if they were wise. Gale gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“He’s a funny one, Astarion.” Gale mused, “Wyll told me he had to resort to extortion to pry him from your side while you were out. Yet, today he acts as if you have the plague.”

A small snort of laughter broke past her tears, “Extortion?” 

“I believe comments were made comparing Shadowheart’s healing abilities to your own. Wyll offended his silence in exchange for Astarion taking a break.”

“That’s not fair to her.” Dafni sniffed, “She’s not a life cleric, she does her best.” 

“You have a good heart, Dafni.” Gale said giving her arm a squeeze, “My point is I think he cares about you, in his own odd way. At the very least he’s far more pleasant when you are around”

“You really think so?” 

“I do,” Gale assured, “he’d have to be the biggest fool in Faerûn not to see how wonderful you are.” 

Dafni felt a bit of warmth return to her heart. Not enough to thaw her sorrows but it was a start. Gale’s words helped her sort through the chaos of her mind as they had so many times before. He was a loyal and kind friend, as was Wyll. Shadowheart too despite her evasive and secretive nature. Even Lae’zel had warmed to her as best she was able despite their differences. There was a solace to be found in the support of her peers. She wasn’t so alone after all.

The sound of her laugh hit Astartion like a battering ram. She seemed to be in slightly better spirits since arriving in the Myconid Circle. She floated about the fungus folk with an easy familiarity. It seemed being among the vibrant plants and creatures of grotto had offered her some sense of normalcy. He looked over his shoulder to see what had coaxed a giggle from her (no matter how pitiful and melancholy it sounded). A sharp twinge of jealousy ran down his spine as he watched Dafni stroke Gale’s cheek with a somber smile. 

He bit the feeling back. It was better for them both if he kept his distance. Gentle kindness was hardly his strong suit. Gods, he was a disaster. How many times had she offered him comfort even when he spurned her? She had given so freely to him, her kindness, the warmth of her bed, the very blood in her veins. And there he was relying on someone else to comfort his lover.   

 Dafni was a resilient little thing. So optimistic and sweet it made his teeth hurt. It was disorienting to see her so morose. He had learned the boundaries of her emotional aura rather quickly. He had noticed an unfamiliar warm feeling that first night at camp. He found himself lingering near her as often as he could after that. Savoring the tender happiness that radiated from off of her. She had told him it was simply part of her nature. A charming quirk he’d grown to enjoy a great deal. But now he could feel her heavy sorrow as if it were his own and he longed to make her hurt go away.  

Damn sentimentality.

He had his own worries. He didn’t need to take on hers as well. She didn’t need him to coddle her. And more importantly, he most certainly was not beholden to her contentment for his own survival despite his halfwit heart’s insistence to the contrary. She was making him soft. It was ridiculous! He was far too old to be fretting over her like a lovelorn sprat. 

It must be the tadpole. Her compassion must have wormed its way into his brain somehow. That was the only logical explanation.

He needed to clear his head and get some distance between them so he could feel more himself. He wandered aimlessly about the grotto as he attempted to show away any feelings of softhearted sympathy but it was no use. He rubbed his temples and let out a frustrated huff. He should never have taken that first taste of her. She’d become an irresistible craving from that moment on. It wasn’t just her blood, but every aspect of her that called to him. Inviting him to take refuge in her affections. He could feel himself lowering his guard a little bit more each day despite his efforts to keep her at arm's length. She’d flash him that beguiling little grin, her topaz eyes brimming over with admiration and he would find himself tempted to let her just another inch closer. He’d known she was dangerous from the moment he clapped eyes on her in the wreckage of the crash. He’d prepared himself for a stake to the heart but the infatuation she had inspired in him was infinitely more frightening and possible just as deadly.

He made his way to the alcove where the Society of Brilliance had set up shop. The strange hobgoblin had mentioned something to the party about being a collector of magical items and oddities. Walking had failed to rid him of his frustrations perhaps shopping would. 

A glimmer caught his eye as he approached the cluttered stall. There, on the table was a familiar silver amulet. He was going to get it back for her and pray the gesture was enough to curb his need to see her happy. He could swipe it easily enough but he didn’t want to draw trouble to Dafni if she was spotted wearing it. No, charm and a dash of intimidation would be his best shot.

“Excuse me,” He smiled wide allowing for a slight flash of his fangs, “I was hoping you would be willing to part with that necklace.”

“A vampire interested in the acquisition of a holy symbol?” 

“Yes, it’s very ironic.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Now, how much do you want for the damn thing?”

“Well, first time for everything.” the hobgoblin shrugged, “You have a good eye, this is very unique. It’s forged from mithral and inlaId with sylvan moonstones. The holy symbol of Corellon is more commonly depicted as an eight-pointed star these days rather than the crescent moon. Meaning this item is very old indeed! It was brought in just yesterday. I would be hesitant to sell it but my research does require more funding. How does 900 gold sound?”

“I hate to be the one to tell you but ‘very old’ is a relative term when it comes to items of elvish origin.” He kept his tone flat and unimpressed, “Long-lived people do tend to hold onto things.” 

“Ah, but you’ll find this is more than your average antique! Judging by the craftsmanship I would say it dates back to the time of the primal elves.”

Shit. 

Of course, her necklace had much more than sentimental value. He had hoped for a quick haggle but it seemed he was going to have to work for it. He really didn’t have that much coin on him, nor was he inclined to spend it on something that was not rightfully the hobgoblin’s to sell. He raffled through his mind searching for a thinly veiled threat or convincing argument to lower the price until the perfect mixture of the two dawned on him.

Astarion let out a droll hum as he checked his nails with casual disinterest. He spoke in a low, blasé voice, “You said before you weren’t much for combat? Don’t you think it’s risky, carrying around a holy item of Corellon in the den of the Spider Queen? It would be such a shame if something were to happen to you at the hands of a zealot. Really I’m doing you a favor by purchasing it. I’ve crossed swords with the Lolth sworn before they are merciless and skilled fighters almost as dangerous and bloodthirsty as vampires.”

He let a wicked bark of laughter. A bemused expression flickering across his face. He could smell the fear stirring in the timid merchant. It would seem he hadn’t lost his edge after all.  

Blurg swallowed hard before mustering a response, “ Ah- I hadn’t thought about that...”

Dafni sat cross-legged on the ramparts of the fort fletching a new batch of arrows. She’d need more to compensate for her lack of magic for the time being. She’d spent the whole trek back to their camp scanning the ground for her necklace but it had all been for not. She’d just have to accept the fact it was gone no matter how much it broke her heart. 

“There you are, darling. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

 The sound of Astarion’s voice caused her to jump, tossing her arrow down with a start. Dafni clutched her chest shooting him a sharp look. He only laughed, his infuriating gorgeous face fixed in a grin that reminded her of a satyr who stumbled upon a river of bathing nymphs. He dipped to his knees placing a hungry kiss on her scowling lips. He couldn’t be serious. All-day she had been desperate for his attention and he was completely uninterested but now that he had an itch to scratch he was searching up and down for her. Unbelievable! She shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn’t as if he’d ever promised her his undying love and devotion. Still, she had thought him tactful enough not to proposition her after the hell she’d been through that day. 

“I’m not really in the mood right now.” She scolded, “You’ll just have to entertain yourself tonight, you egotistical lecher!”

“That- Isn’t why I sought you out. But, if you truly don’t want my company I’ll leave you be.” He shrugged his tone flippant despite the flash of vulnerability in his ruby eyes.

“I- I’m sorry that was really mean and uncalled for. Please stay.”

Stupid impulsive girl.

She slumped forwards, hiding her face in her knees. She could feel the icy tears threatening to spill over for the hundredth time that day. He’d come to check on her and she’d cut him down because of her own insecurity. The bitterness had gotten the better of her and she had unwittingly discouraged his attempt at compassion. 

“If you think the accusation of being a rake is the most heinous insult that’s been hurled at me I’m afraid you’ve missed the mark by quite a lot.” 

He sat down beside her, placing a hesitant hand on her back. She could sense his uncertainty. He was nervous and clearly out of his depth but he was trying. His cautious fingertips moved slowly across the expanse of her back, tracing nebulas shapes and patterns as she drew short, shallow breaths. She couldn’t bear to look at him. She just knew he was staring at her with the same wide, gentle eyes he had when she’d offered her neck to him that night in the woods. If she saw him like that the dam would break and she’d be an utter mess. 

“I still shouldn’t have said it.” Her voice came out shaky and quiet as she peeked over the top of her knees at him. 

“I think I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you.” He leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “I have something for you. Now, stand up and close your eyes.”

She arched a questioning brow but compiled, hopping to her feet. He pushed her ponytail to one side. His touch lingered on her jumping pulse causing a shiver to run down her spine. A warm chuckle falling from his lips in response. The cool feeling of metal draped across her throat, an otherworldly comfort hummed all around her as the delicate weight of a pendant fell against her chest. 

“Where did you find it!!” Dafni gasped, “I thought I had lost it forever! You can’t fathom how much this means to me.”

“It’s a gift, to repay you for all the ones you’ve given me.”  

It probably seemed a small thing to him but he’d returned a missing piece of herself. Words felt woefully inadequate to express her gratitude. She threw her arms around his neck, sending him staggering back a bit. She hardly noticed. She stood on her tiptoes placing gentle kisses all over him. First over the bridge of his nose and then his cheeks and down his neck. Her fingers laced through his soft curls tugging him close, her lips brushed against his. Astarion’s hands fell to her soft waist, his mouth ever so slightly parting for hers. Dafni sighed, running her tongue along the warm seam of his lip earning her a satisfied purr. His hand ventured to the small of her back gently coaxing her closer. She took in a deep breath, the dizzying blend of leather and patchouli making her weak at the knee. She could have stayed like that forever, pressed safe and content against his solid chest. The feeling was big and terrifying but magical and perfect all at once. 

Drat...

She was falling in love with him.

[thehistoriccemetery]

How They’d React to Your Secret Fear of Thunderstorms

It’s raining here and this may or may not be a self insert.

Headcannons for Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheria. The reader is gender neutral.

I tried to write the men but I just don’t know how.

——————————————————————

Shadowheart

She’s praying when you come in. She opens one eye slightly when she hears you enter, motioning over to the bedroll.

She thinks you’re just coming in to get out of the rain at first; you are the only one without a tent, afterall.

It isn’t until she’s done praying that she realizes you seem to be hiding inside the bedroll.

“Are you… looking for something in there?” She asks, pulling back the top of the bedroll.

The look on her face lets you know you’ve been caught.

She sighs and scoots into the bedroll next to you. She’s not much of a cuddler, but this counts as an extenuating circumstance. You snuggle up next to her and thank her.

[Tiefling] She won’t even say anything when she feels your tail around her waist.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel also fucking HATES thunderstorms. She wouldn’t dare say she was scared but she doesn’t care for them at all.

She already pissy by the time you get to her tent. “I don’t understand why the sky in your ‘faerun’ finds all this noise necessary. If I wanted to listen to insolent shouting, I’d talk to Shadowheart about the Selunites again.”

She makes fun of you if say you’re afraid, but you see her jump a little bit every time a particularly violent crash rings through camp.

She won’t try to hug or comfort you in anyway, but she inches closer to you every time the ground shakes.

Ya know… for you protection

Karlach

She is somehow asleep despite the all the noise.

You move into her tent with Scratch at your heals and gently shake her awake.

“Hey Solider,” she says, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Is everything alright?”

“I… um… Scratch is actually afraid of the thunder,” you say, pointing accusingly at the confused dog.

Karlach smiles a tired smile “well then I guess I’m left with no choice.” She opens the bedroll to welcome you in. The dog happily trots to her feet and curls up.

“Hey um, Clive’s actually pretty scared too. He could probably use a nice tight squeeze,” she says handing you the stuffed bear.

You happily snuggle up to her warm body with the bear wrapped tight in your arms.

You instinctively bury yourself in her chest when thunder booms so loud it sounds like the sky may crack. Your face runs hot, and you refuse to lift your head.

She kisses you gently on the top of the head. “I adore you, ya know?” You can feel her ‘you’re so fucking cute I’m gonna explode’ smile.

You decide you’re actually just probably gonna melt right there from the embarrassment.

Minthara

Minthara doesn’t like the rain at all. Something about her feline nature. But she doesn’t mind the thunder and lightning. She actually finds it sort of calming in a way.

When you come into her tent, she’s reading on a pillow. She doesn’t look up. “You can take the bedroll. I don’t mind.”

You hurriedly take the invitation, shoving yourself as quickly as possible into the bedroll.

She continues her reading for a few minutes before looking up. “You’re shaking the whole tent. Are you cold?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer. She unfolds a blanket and moves to throw it over your shaking body. That’s when she realizes you’re trembling, white-knuckling the blanket.

“Oh,” she pauses, unsure of what to do. “Something has you frightened?” It doesn’t occur to her that the thunder could be scary.

“It’s the storm. I don’t like it,” you say weakly, refusing to meet her gaze.

She silently moves her reading pillow closer to you, sitting down cross legged right above your head. She drags your shoulders so that your head is in her lap. She plays with your hair, hands moving protectively over your ears at the start of each rumble.

Minthara thinks it’s kind of silly and juvenile at first, but her attitude changes as she watches you visibly calm. It actually makes her feel kind of powerful. She’s protecting you from the sky itself.

Jaheira

She’s lounging just outside her tent, still covered by the awning. “It’s a beautiful night, no?” She asks as you approach, staring up and watching the lightening crack across the sky.

You look at her aghast, standing in the rain like a drowned rat. “Oh, come in, of course.”

She gives you some rags and helps dry you off. She helps you out of your soaked clothes and into something dry.

She notices the way you jump at the thunder and close your eyes when the lightning flashes.

“Do not worry, cub. This is nothing to be afraid of. It is just the *explains in science terms how the thunder and lightning works*”

She seems to notice that her extensive explanation did little to soothe you. She doesn’t really know what will soothe you though.

She ends up sitting down next to you on the bedroll, allowing you to rest your wet hair on her shoulder if you so choose.

She settles for telling you stories of the Harpers and other heroes. Her tales serve as a distraction enough to get you through the night.