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invinciblerodent · 6 months

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I've been thinking a lot about magic healing today.

Like I can't stop thinking about how much truly incredible medical knowledge (specifically what we now think of as folk medicine, or like... battlefield surgery) is rendered pretty much completely obsolete by the existence of people who can mend bones with a thought. About how rare it must be for someone to actually know about how a body functions, when among most adventuring types, there's... actually little practical use for such knowledge, with little motivation beyond curiosity to figure it out.

Like of course, I'm sure there are many settings in which those with magical talent are few and far between. I'm sure there are low-magic settings where having access to magical healing is rare, and/or comes at a prohibitively high price for most commoners. But I can't help but think that... in worlds where healing spells and broad-spectrum healing potions are found in the stock of pretty much every merchant and every thug's inventory, ready to be looted, the work of midwives, village wise-women, herbalists, field medics, surgeons, and a thousand other professions is made pretty much completely irrelevant to so many people, simply because clerics, paladins, druids and such, are able to just.... wave a hand, and eradicate diseases, mend bones, transfuse blood, restore limbs, and sometimes even raise the dead.

Being medically knowledgeable on top of being magically adept would probably not only be rare as hell (hello, Halsin), it'd also take a lot of dedication, and a lot of respect for the body and the natural way of things that... I don't know how many even among the best magical healers would actually have.

I'd imagine that many who usually have steady access to a healer don't actually know jack shit about their own health, and... maybe even those who rely on magic to heal, don't actually know what they're doing all that often.

Idk. I'm just rotating this thought in my head today.

#squirrel plays bg3 #just sat in the bathtub with this #thinkin' 'bout stuff n things #mainly how I had this thought that... it's weird how infrequent it is to see healer characters who do like. actual research #or study concrete things beyond a nebulous “oh they look into the magic of this thing”#like it could be me just being submerged in only one specific thing rn #but halsin is the only one i can think of who is cited as doing literal biological research on the tadpoles #there's malus thorm who knows about non-magical medicine #but... priestess gut? magic. nettie? magic (though probably Halsin's student). auntie ethel? never intended to help #clerics and druids and paladins don't NEED to know shit about the body #idk what to make of this #same with Ghustil Strognoss and... i actually can't think of more healer-type characters #which feels weird i mean why would there be no healer living in the lower city #all we really know is that Karlach's parents died because they couldn't afford one 10+ years ago #anyway i have thoughts on my characters as well but I'll maybe rant more in a reblog

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 6 months

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The Beast Inside

Werewolf!reader finally! I've been wanting to write a werewolf rampage for quite a while but never quite got around to it until now!!!

Summary: Reader loses control of the wolf and tries to come to terms with the beast inside all whilst taking care of Astarion.

The paladin’s blade comes down, swinging in an arc of light and you stand there, eyes wide with shock as the steel tears through your flesh, carving open your shoulder. Blood sprays from the wound, staining your clothes red with your own blood.

“Y/N!” You can hear the distant shouts of your companions, calling your name. Your wound burns, probably from the infusion of the paladin’s abilities in the strike that connected and blood roars in your ears. All you can think about is how that same paladin had captured Astarion, had their way with him, nearly killed your vampire lover, and the beast inside takes over, roaring in delight.

You will not lose him.

You feel your bones cracking and skin stretching as claws take the place of fingers, fur sprouting from your body. Your jaw lengthens, teeth sharpening into fangs and your nose becomes narrower. The wound in your shoulder begins to seal itself shut, flesh growing back and knitted by furred skin. The sharp metallic scent of blood fills your nose and you inhale it all. You can smell the fear in the air as the paladin shrinks back, greatsword pointed at you but the weapon is rattling.

That sword will never pierce you again.

The paladin’s hands shake as your wild gaze locks onto them, yellow eyes burning with an inhumane thirst for blood, saliva dripping from long thick fangs nestled in powerful jaws. A howl bursts forth from deep within you, claws flexing and you pounce on your prey, sending the paladin crashing to the floor. Armour is ripped apart like paper underneath the werewolf’s claws and jaws snap, crushing the helmet to reveal the paladin’s terrified face.

“Please –” Their cries are cut short as sharp claws tear open their exposed flesh, ripping their face in two. More blood gushes out and the paladin is already dead but the beast keeps going, jaws tearing the paladin’s body into a bloody mess. The werewolf stands back up in the sticky mess of blood and guts, crimson dripping from its muzzle and takes a step towards the paladin’s frightened companions.

The cleric drops to his knees and tries to scuttle away but the werewolf is faster, tearing open his throat with its jaws and devours the chunk of meat torn away. The werewolf snarls, reaching back into the convulsing body and rips away another chunk, sending blood flying everywhere. The body finally stills, having lost too much blood but the werewolf continues to rip at the flesh piece by piece, painting the entire floor a deep red.

Its nostrils flare, blazing yellow eyes turning towards the last member of the paladin’s party. The vampire hunter stares at the beast, shaky hands aiming a crossbow at its head. Its lips curl upwards, almost like a grin as it stalks towards the hunter, leaving a trail of bloody paw prints behind.

“You monster!” An arrow is fired, piercing through the beast’s face and causing it to stumble back, but it regains its footing just as quickly, its head snapping forward. The maniacal grin still remains, with the beast’s blood streaming from the wound. Crimson fangs bare at the hunter, yellow eyes gleaming as the beast reaches up with a clawed hand and rips the arrow free, laughing. The throaty laugh sends shivers up everyone’s spines as it devolves into a howl and claws swipe at the hunter, who barely manages to dodge the blow. The beast snarls, jaws snapping at thin air as the hunter moves out of the way, reloading his crossbow.

Another arrow is fired but the beast dodges in time. Its clawed feet dig into the ceramic floor tiles and it launches itself with terrifying speed at the unprepared hunter. Claws slam into the hunter’s chest, sending him crashing into the wall behind and knocking all breath out of his body. The werewolf bares its bloody fangs, jaws clamping around the hunter’s throat to crush through flesh and bone alike, coating its chest in the blood that sprayed from the fatal wound. It tears into the corpse, ripping it apart with ferocious savagery and gorges itself on the flesh until it is satisfied.

Then it turns to Y/N’s companions.

A soft growl rumbles from its chest and it stalks towards where Astarion lies, curled up and shivering. Lae’zel takes a step towards the beast, ready to strike it down before it can harm the vampire but Halsin holds her back, giving a shake of his head.

It feels its bones cracking and skin stretching once more as its body shrinks back into its human form. Claws shorten back into fingers and toes, its furred chest shrinks back into a female’s chest, its jaw shortening back into a human mouth. Fangs recede, making way for human teeth and pointed ears round themselves again to nestle behind hair.

But the blood remains.

“Astarion,” you whisper, reaching out to him with your bloody hand. He flinches when your fingertips bump into his skin, a quiet whimper escaping his lips and you immediately pull back. You sit on your haunches, at a loss of what to do. You want to help, you want to pull your lover into your arms and hold him tight, whisper away all his pain but you can’t even touch him.

“It’s me, Y/N,” you try again. You ignore the sticky feeling of blood that covers hands, feet and chest and hold out a hand with your palm upturned. “You’re safe now. No one can harm you anymore, I won’t allow it.”

“Don’t look at me,” Astarion croaks. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“It doesn’t make me love you any less,” you say firmly. “I’ve seen you at your lowest and I’ve seen you at your highest, neither has changed the fact that I love you. Nothing ever will.”

You sit there, patiently. “I didn’t want you to see this either. The beast that lives inside me, the real me. I hate it, that part of me. We all have at least one part of ourselves that we hate, maybe we even hate all parts of ourselves, but what we do with that part makes us who we are.”

The rest of your companions quietly make their exit, giving the two of them some time alone. You give them a grateful nod as they leave and turn back to Astarion who hasn’t moved an inch.

“You’re strong, Astarion. Far stronger than you think, far stronger than me. You accept the part you hate about yourself and live with it while I pretend it doesn’t exist, suppressing the beast. I wish I could be like you.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. “I admire you, and love you no matter how much you despise yourself.”

Astarion curls tighter into a ball, burying his face into his knees. You gently place your blood-stained cloak over him and simply continue to sit there, facing away from him to give him some privacy whilst keeping an eye on him via your sharpened hearing. You hear him drawing shaky breaths out of habit, miniscule sobs slipping past his lips on occasion and your heart breaks. If only you were stronger, faster, more powerful, then maybe he wouldn’t have had to suffer like this, maybe you would have been able to prevent all this from happening.

Your thoughts begin to devour you, thrusting you into a swirling haze of self-hatred and self-doubt. They crowd out everything else, ensnaring you in their web and trapping you in darkness but two quietly spoken words pierce through the cloud and the dark haze begins to part.

“Thank you.”

You sit up with a start, turning to find your vampire lover has shifted into a sitting position, cloak still firmly bundled around him. He looks at you with tear-stained ruby eyes and shuffles closer, leaning against you and burying his face into your shoulder, ignoring the blood that coats it.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “For yelling at you.”

“All’s been forgiven long ago,” you hum. Your arm hovers around him, unsure of whether he would welcome a hug but he pulls your arm around his waist, washing away all doubt immediately.

Astarion relaxes in your embrace, the warmth a stark contrast to his cold skin and rests his head against your chest. The steady thumping of your heart sends a nice strange feeling surging through him and a soft sigh escapes his lips. He lets you rest your chin on his head and the corners of his lips twitch upwards when he hears a familiar rumbling sound coming from your chest.

You wipe your hand on your pants to try and get rid of the blood before running your fingers through his hair, gently unknotting it as you go along. Your breath hitches, disgust bubbling to the surface when you realise you’re still getting blood on his silver hair despite your best efforts. The wolf had spilled that much blood in one fight. You swallow the bile rising to your throat, Astarion comes first, he is the one who needs to be taken care of, your problems can wait another day.

He shifts slightly, giving you a better angle to comb through his hair but you can still see a hint of trepidation in his eyes.

“If you want me to stop, just say it and I will stop. I promise.” You remove your hand from his hair, concerned. You know Astarion likes to keep things to himself, but so far he has been open about his likes and dislikes to you, understanding that you can take no as an answer.

“I…don’t stop. Please,” he whispers. “I don’t want to associate this with anyone but you.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words and press a kiss to the top of his head to hide your embarrassment. Despite knowing what you truly are, he still chose you and found safety in your arms. Maybe, if he could accept you as you truly are, one day you could do the same. A vampire spawn and a werewolf, what a couple the two of you made.

“As you wish,” you murmur and the both of you remain like that for some time before Astarion stirs once more, untangling himself from the safety of your bloodstained arms.

“We should get going before the others fall apart trying to settle dinner,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“We don’t have to move if you don’t want to, the others can wait for all I care,” you huff.

“As much as I love you darling, I would much prefer cuddling in a bedroll than on this hard ground.” A small piece of light returns to his eyes when he hears you bark a laugh at his words, his favourite grin of yours splayed on your face.

“Your wish is my command,” you chuckle, giving his hand a small squeeze. He grasps your hand tightly, whispering something inaudible even to your sharp ears before looking at you with a fondness you can’t quite describe.

“Thank you,” he breathes. “For everything.”

“Right back at you, Star.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion x werewolf!reader

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