#rat rites

[rat-cigars]

Idk kinda random matt x fem!reader

CW: 18+, suggestive themes

(If y’all like this I can actually make it into a fic and give it a proper title)

Your phone's alarm rang to wake you up as you sighed and rolled over to turn it off. You groaned, rubbing your eyes as you finally saw the time. “Shit!” You threw the covers off yourself and hurriedly got ready to go to set.

You had been filming for a new movie ‘Baseketball’ or something like that, and you had been lucky enough to book a nice size role. The only downside was having to be there at the crack of dawn to get makeup and hair done. As you scurried out the door to get downtown, you had dropped your script in the rush. Not even realizing it as you headed down the street, already a few minutes late.

Fortunately for you, the traffic had been light and the parking situation hadn’t been too terrible. You scampered to the makeup trailer, robing up and taking a seat. In the chair next to you was one of your co-stars “Hey, what’s up with being late? Long night?” Matt smirked and teased you, rolling your eyes at him in response.

“Yeah right, we were up till 3 am last night, be thankful I even came in.” You teased him back giggling a bit. The past few days on set, you’d been asked to film some intimate scenes with Matt, this often caused you to have to do multiple takes. Sometimes it would be you that would laugh and other times it would be Matt cracking in the scenes.

“Well, did you hear what we get to do today?” Matt leaned back in his chair as the makeup crew came in to apply foundation and fix his curls up. “No, what?” You raised a brow, getting your own hair done as he let out a mischievous chuckle. “The Hot Tub Scene.” Your face heated immediately after he spoke. “Oh God,” you sighed, cringing at the thought of being topless in front of everyone.

“Hey, we can figure something out if you don’t wanna.” He offered, genuinely trying to help. “Well, I don’t mind under the water.. but I don’t know about being seen by everyone.” You looked over at him, raising a brow. “Well, we can have you in a bikini top if you want and then you can take it off or not.” He shrugged, “I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable.” You smiled at his response and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine with that.” You almost saw a pink forming on his own cheeks, but that might’ve been his makeup.

The tension felt thick as your conversation switched from talking about your scene to talking about your plans after work. After about an hour in the chair’s, the two of you headed to film. Matt walked off to go speak with Trey and other crew members as you entered the hottub, slowly sinking in and adjusting to the warmth. It was nice after having to be on your feet all day yesterday.

“Mind if I join you?” Matt sunk in next to you, scanning your face. His brows furrowed a little as he spoke again, “Are you sure you’re okay?” He smiled. “Of course.” You smiled back, reaching behind your neck as you undid your top.

“Oh shit!” He jokingly cheered, trying to hype you up as you blushed and rolled your eyes again. “Whatever, let’s get through with this.” You giggled, getting into position for the take. It was still a bit awkward but you were comfortable with Matt and trusted the production crew. You and Matt locked eyes again as you began the scene, his arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in for a kiss. You returned the affections, slightly sitting on his lap as he pulled away to speak to ‘Coop’. You bit your lip while he trailed more kisses on your neck and shoulders, half speaking.

“Cut!” The scene was called for a moment and you reset with Matt. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you might actually like me.” You teased Matt, watching him bite his lip. “Oh whatever.” He chuckled, but you could feel his heart speed up with your hand resting on his chest.

[lyrker]

I really like Rat .

[toastsnaffler]

the fucking rat is back in our flat 😭

[authenticaussie]

One of my friends was talking about Jason and I said something about like, "Yeah considering I grew up with Dick and knew NOTHING about Tim before, what, May? I was not expecting him to become my little creature so quickly." And HE went "oh yeah no if I was gonna pick a Robin for you to be obsessed with it absolutely woulda been Tim. He's just, he's just your type of guy! He's your guy."

Something something the wonderful act of being known, etc.

BUT. Very funny that there was no further explanation beyond "you know how you said I'd like Mahito from JJK? Yeah it's like that, I just Knew. I knew he'd be your guy."

[citrusitonit]

little me seeign the biggestrat of my fuckign life at 11pm and beign so scared i had a brekdown n trauma

[lovelymelty]

Wish this was the stone age or something I wanna wander the earth and succumb to dysentery somewhere along the way

[big-daddy-moth]

“To everyone who keeps calling me a fucking rat--- I swear upon Lucifer’s name-- I will Big Dick Energy My way into ALL YA PANTRIES and fuckin RAID ya shit!”

[tanadrin]

There is a great engine beneath the North American continent that drives people to insanity and spits out new religions on a regular basis. Maybe the lingering tectonic energies of Yellowstone, worrying at us just below our conscious awareness and driving us to a quiet, gibbering fear like rats scurrying about just before an earthquake. Maybe a kink in the Earth's magnetic field that affects our brains in some way. Maybe just the shock of agoraphobia, of wandering out into wide open spaces and going mad beneath the vast and starry sky.

Over in Europe they spent a thousand years fighting wars and piling up the dead in hills of gore, all to determine trivialities like the true nature of the Eucharist, or who really had the authority to appoint bishops. Muslim kings killed each other by the score over who was the rightful successor of the Prophet. The scholar-officials of China carefully composed the orthodox interpretations of the rites and laws, and then the Emperor had everybody who disagreed beheaded. Oh, there were heretics all right, but the stakes within each tradition were low--is Christ of one substance or two? Which hadith are valid? Is there a true and eternal self, or no?

In the United States, though, people sought the edge of civilization, declared that here lay the Frontier. They stepped beyond it, and then they went stark raving mad. They declared the ghost of Ben Franklin was telling them how to build a mechanical Jesus. They said an evil scientist created white people as soulless devils on the Greek island of Patmos. That all our anxieties are caused by the restless ghosts of alien political prisoners, executed by volcano. That God was once a man, and we too might become gods someday, as long as we remembered that coffee-drinking was a sin.

And it's no coincidence that every major American religious movement seems to be founded by an obvious con man. I think that's the secret to being a prophet. You have to learn to lie. To lie so nakedly and so intensely that the things you are lying about appear before your very eyes, become tangible to you and to everyone who believes. Ordinary, simple, sincere faith will not do. You must learn to lie with such intensity that you can change the world.

[mccoyquialisms]

my fantasy high red-string-conspiracy-theory-board-of-the-main-mystery lore tracker (a long ass post) (because I love both mysteries AND organization of inconsequential information):

rough chronology of events:

In ages past there is a wedding attended in the Chaos Mountains by Sol and Galicaea of their sister the Witch Goddess to an unnamed giantkin god. This god is a summer god, sibling of the giant winter goddess Ruvina

Over centuries, the unnamed god's domain changes from the sun and summer to fire

This unnamed god is killed and their name was wiped from history. The other gods remember who this being is, but due to obliviati mori, cannot reference them directly to mortals. Red shatter stars appear around this time

850 years before present day, the Witch Goddess's name is erased by her followers (encouraged by followers of Galicaea) and she is transformed into the Nightmare King. Before she does she performs the 4 trans-substantiations to resist being "unmade". Her familiar Kalina becomes a plague and begins to spread through the mortal populace. These events likely happen after the death of her spouse, as there is no reference to a spouse when the Witch Goddess was previously mentioned

Roughly 4-6 years before modern day, the pit fiend Bakur attempts to resurrect his god, whose name was lost "so they could not be worshiped." The return of this god is felt to be a significant threat to the world. Lydia Barkrock and her adventuring party stop him by sealing Bakur in a red gem in Lydia's chest, where she keeps him imprisoned with her rage

The Ratgrinders, then called the High 5 Heroes, meet in freshman year and consist of Kipperlilly, Oisin, Mary Anne, Ruben, Ivy and Lucy.

They xp level up by killing rats, twig gremlins and other small magical creatures in the woods behind Aguefort

The events of freshman year happen and Kalvaxus is released. During prom, Ragh spots Jace Stardiamond talking to Arianwen. He is later "barbarian healed" by Porter and after this can see Kalina. Kalina finds Ragh later and threatens Lydia if he talks about what he's seen

Sophomore year spring break happens and the Nightmare King is transformed into the goddess now named Cassandra

At some point Lucy began to return to the woods after party sessions to revive the rats they killed. She did this long enough and with enough regularity that the rats remember her name/face well and think of her fondly

Paperwork is submitted for Lucy to change her god from Ruvina to a god whose name cannot be read, just before her disappearance. A few days later a second request is submitted to withdraw this change. Neither form was ever seen by Lucy's teacher Yolanda Badgood

Lucy was killed near Lake Shimmerstone by multiple assailants with both weapon and magical damage towards the end of sophomore year, in the period of weeks after grades were complete, but before summer break. The area has multiple uprooted trees, some of which were used to hide her body. Unholy rites were performed over her body to force her soul to the beyond, so she cannot be revived.

Lucy is reported as dead but her body was never found. She was described as "not alive in this material plane" via divination

Because of the timing of her death, her party was not moved to pass/fail as all grades for that year had already been submitted

Night Yorb and the long dark summer happens

Buddy Dawn, a cleric of Sol, is specifically requested by the Ratgrinders to be their new cleric for junior year

Also over the long dark summer, the Loam farmers are accused of embezzlement and the Frostyfair festival is moved from there to the Thistlesprings tree at the recommendation of Lola Embers. Sklonda Gukgak is assigned as the Loam couple's public defender

Kipperlilly finds or is found by the rogue teacher and has passed the whole of junior year

Junior year begins. On her first day, Kipperlilly questions Jawbone on where YES! was created

Kipperlily announces she is running for student body president and her primary platform is for uniform equity under the rules without "favoritism"

In the mall of the Synod, the event that kicks off the battle is Cassandra becomes angry hearing Kristen isn't coming to help find followers. She says "This isn't fair!" as a razor-sharp flickering star of red light emerges from her chest. 24-point, red shatter stars infect nearby wizards and turns them into rage-filled, violent, giant versions of themselves. The people taken over by the shatter stars are instructed by an unknown voice to attack Cassandra

Cassandra is able to be calmed by a high persuasion and when she does, she expels multiple shatter stars. She seems to recognize them and says "I thought you were dead.”

Before Kalina is taken over by the shatter stars, she looks to Riz and says "Ragh Barkrock". She then slits Cassandra's throat, triggering a new round of rage in Cassandra

Cassandra suffers multiple attacks and begins to transform into a giant, red raging version of herself and attempts to kill the party. Before she's successful, the gang are swept away in a time loop back to Spyre. The Bad Kids see the Synod is destroyed, and Kristen finds she has shards of Cassandra in her pocket

Kristen attempts to commune with Cassandra and hears a voice say "She is at my side once more." The voice then mocks Kristen with YES!'s body and then tells Kristen it is coming for her, and it will break her irrevocably.

Ivy sees Fig disguised as Lucy at the party at Seacastor Manor, and has an inscrutable reaction to it, but did not seem surprised

The cloud rider engine in Fabian's basement is broken and a piece is found missing

Kipperlily does the food truck event with the subliminal OK messaging on the packaging

Ruben Hopclap performs at FrostFaire when he is attacked by Principal Grix. Grix is eventually killed by Fabian. The Bad Kids determine Ruben was doing some kind of ritual with a song about anger above an arcano-tech array in a 24 point star pattern, successfully releasing a large amount of some type of magical energy.

Simultaneously, Yolanda Badgood is killed at Lake Shimmerstone by immense concussive force damage, and afterwards her body is expertly hidden. She is subjected to the same unholy last rites that Lucy was.

The Bad Kids find Lucy and Yolanda's bodies, and Kristen releases their souls, who travel to the beyond on a "trail of moonlight"

Sklonda's clients are found murdered

Mazey reveals that the Vice Principal (i.e. Jace) does not become the Principal, and it would be the student body president who becomes the new principal of Aguefort

additional info we can reasonably infer or that don't fit neatly in the timeline:

Buddy's grandparents, and likely Buddy himself, have a vested interest in his grandfather becoming the cleric teacher. He went to Aguefort and is familiar with the school. Presumably he wants this to be able to preach about Sol and spread his influence

At some point before her death, Yolanda told Jace about her concerns regarding Lucy's deity-transfer paperwork

Cassandra is not dead, but is "beyond reach"

Lucy and Yolanda were noted to be in "realms beyond", which Brennan specifically noted they were taken from and "whatever was happening there"

The Ratgrinders are gunning for the bad kids and seem to be orchestrating situations to try to get them to take drugs

Porter's philosophical discussion with Fig regarding the concept of protection and how that is often inextricably tied with rage, that one can act as a fuel for the other

Porter is a paladin of the ancestors, and at some point was mentioned to be a goliath, though this seems to be debated in canon. If true, it's possible he's a descendant of giants

Kristen bring's up Sol's wrath and Buddy does not refute this, agreeing Sol's wrath is a well known aspect of him and he has been quite angry because of the dark summer/night yorb situation

As above so below. What the gods do affect their mortal followers, but conversely, what the mortals who follow them do also affect the gods

A god can only come back from death in a place a god had been born or created, meaning Bakur's decision to try to revive his fallen god in the Red Waste was what doomed it to failure

Bakur's documents are written in the language of giants, and his deity is said to be from the same region as Ruvina. Combining this with Adaine’s research, and the “mitochondrial magic print”, Bakur’s god is Cassandra’s former spouse

The cloud rider piece was likely stolen by the Ratgrinders as Kipperlily asked Aelwyn to research schematics of the device

Kipperlily seems to be keeping information from some of the other Ratgrinders, telling Aelwyn she needs to "protect Oisin" from their shady deals

Kipperlily's mother works for the city treasury and her father is in real estate. Neither are super wealthy, but Kipperlilly has been paying Aelwyn large amounts of money to obtain arcane components. Given the timing of this with the disappearance of a large sum of money from the Frostyfair accounts, the timing of the murder of the people who were blamed for it, and that the new chosen location happens to be the home of one of the Ratgrinders rivals, the Ratgrinders involvement is thought to be likely

Cassandra's whispered clue of "spies, tongue, curse"

Places outside Spyre, like the Synod, are easier for dead gods to reach

For whatever the Ratgrinders have planned, a student being the principal of Aguefort is essential for it. A lot of people have had to be conveniently absent or dead for this circumstance to occur.

This is all not even touching Aguefort's whole journey through time and possible time quangle issue and whatever the fuck Fig's Bad Luck Thing is. I'm not convinced that these are related to the god stuff and are likely their own separate issues. also, I am tired lmao. If you want to hear my rambling theories, I'll be making a separate post.

[shadow-fell]

Notes on Cazador's Spawn

Mostly for my own reference but hey, someone else might find it useful.

Cazador Szarr becomes the Master Vampire of Baldur's Gate in 1276 (list of master vampires) completing the Rite of Perfect Slaughter on his master, Vellioth.

Astarion's gravestone gives his years as 229-268 DR. There are two assumptions we can make here: the first is that this is just being written without the 1, so he's turned in 1268 DR. The second is that it isn't DR, but instead meant to be Northreckoning - which would make the dates 1261-1300 NR.

We have a few choices here: if it is in DR, either the 1276 date is wrong, or Astarion was somehow turned before Vellioth was killed. Because of that, I think it's a bit easier to assume NR, especially since he's "one of the first" and not "the first". But this is a bit nitpicky.

For the rest of the spawn:

Petras is around ~1390 ("one hundred years eating rats and dogs" from the Flophouse convo)

Yousen is around ~1430 ("only sixty years" after Cazador's defeat)

Dalyria was Physician General to the Parliament of Baldur's Gate (journal). The Parliament of Peers was founded in the mid-1400s, so she would have been turned after this point ~1450

Leon is at least from 1486 (6 years of favored spawn) maximum 1480 (turned while Victoria is alive based on diary)

Violet and Aurelia have nothing that concrete. However, Violet does offer a prayer to Kelemvor after Cazador's defeat, so I'm going to assume she didn't pick up worship of a new god as a vampire, which makes her turning after Kelemvor's ascension in 1358.

This leaves us with like a century gap, with Astarion (and maybe Aurelia) being turned around 1300 and everyone else in the 1400s. But there's an answer to that as well...Jaheira and Astarion have a party banter

Astarion: Cazador always warned us to stay clear of this neighbourhood. Never said why, though. Jaheira: The last spawn who tried was sunk into the cobblestones and left for the sun to find. I had an unfortunate taste for theatrics, in my youth. Astarion: Ah. Yes, that was probably it.

The original BG games are set 1368/69 - so probably around then or shortly after is when Jaheira killed at least one of the spawn; we can assume there's a few more that got killed and replaced in the 1400s to get back up to magic number seven.

(more on the Szarrs below the cut)

The Szarrs were a merchant family. In 1479, they had been wiped out in an attack that destroyed their home in Tumbledown in the Outer City, leaving only Cliffside Cemetery within large caverns, and which were home to strange lights that could be seen from the river. Rumors about the Szarrs being seen as ghosts were commonplace.

The crypts under the Szarr Mansion we see in BG3 are the Tourmaline Depths, discovered by Donnela Szarr the architect - based on the article while she was Master Vampire in 1138-1204, but potentially earlier. I think it is reasonable to assume that the Depths are connected to the Cliffside Cemetery and Szarr family crypts underground (deeper than the Sewers or Undercity).

Amanita Szarr, or Lady Inconita, has a series of journals dated to 1477 recounting her turning.

Alturiak: describes that she was raised near Anga Vled, and rarely visited her 'Uncle' Cazador

Tarsakh: summoned on her thirteenth birthday

Mirtul: references every living (well, vampire) Szarr as Uncle Cazador, Granddam Fistula, Great-Aunt Dralia, and Cousin Blovart.

Kythorn: describes being turned, imprisoned in the attic. for refusing to participate. Then she drank human blood, and at least a year later, sent up a captive.

Flamerule: "succumbed" and declares herself Lady Incognita.

These span over 6 months (skips Ches after Alturiak). Reasonably, I think these were written during the period of the "captive" sent up, which puts her turning proper probably in 1475-1476, born ~1462. We can probably date the death of her parents to be the killing of the Szarrs, while she was very young. About 15 years before 1479 is perfect time for a ghost story to develop while gangs to take over.

(Anga Vled is a gnomish village between Baldur's Gate and Elturel, along the Risen Road - so not far at all from where Act1/2 are set)

If we assume that the relations Amanita describes are accurate, the tree would look like this. Given that they're an elven family (or at least, Cazador is elven) that means we have a lot of space to work with, timeline wise, but the quotes around 'uncle' might mean he's actually Dralia's son or Amanita's great uncle, to give a bit more space.

??? (Donella Szarr?) |-------| Dralia Fistula |-------|--------| Cazador ??? ??? | | Blovart Amanita

The question is: if the Szarr family are all vampires, then what does it mean that they haven't shown up? And that Vellioth was apparently not a Szarr but was still the Master Vampire (and definitely in charge over Cazador?) Who turned them?

My personal theory goes something like this:

Donnela Szarr, wealthy (but not Patriar) elven merchant has at least two children, Dralia and Fistula (probably not real name because come on)

some time from 1019-1138, Donnela Szarr, while investigating the tombs below her family's estate, encounters Hideous Gathwycke and is turned as his spawn.

1138, Donnela Szarr kills him and becomes Master Vampire

Donnela turns Vellioth

Donnela potentially turns her children to grant them immortal life

1204, Vellioth kills Donnela, becomes Master Vampire

Vellioth takes control of the Szarr family (intimidation, magic, or potentially turning Dralia/Fistula, if they're his spawn and not Donnela's)

Cazador is turned by Vellioth (at least 1260, probably earlier)

1276, Cazador completes the Right of Perfect Slaughter

~1460, other Szarrs die; Amanita sent to the countryside.

~1475 Amanita turned

I imagine that Cazador was fairly young when Donnela was killed (young enough to not be turned yet), and new Vellioth already, even if it might have been some time before he was turned. I'd put him at no more than 100 when Vellioth becomes Master Vampire; their relationship feels very 'strict teacher' which makes me wonder if he was a tutor beforehand.

The debate is whether the Szarrs were killed for mundane reasons (rival merchants), by vampire hunters, or by Cazador himself. If he killed them, it might be for refusal to let him turn them into vampires (Blovart as the exception), or some level of sibling rivalry? Amanita's parents are presumably not vampires since she was turned, but that doesn't remove the chance of monster hunters.

Based on the timeline, Blovart may have died sometime after Lady Incognita's entries, placing Leon as his replacement for the seven spawn (maybe the Favoured Spawn room was his by default, and became a competition after? The fact it only goes back 6 years is interesting). Perhaps related to how she left or died herself.

Dralia and Fistula's absence might be that they don't live with him, but I could also see if they discovered the Rite of Ascension and tried to usurp him and got killed for it. Cazador is fascinated by the idea of family, and I could see him very much wanting to keep his family intact but also has no qualms about killing his own mother / aunt.

All of this + the Lady Incognita stuff is very rough, presumably a lot of it having been cut with the Upper City/shift in direction for Cazador's story.

[rat-cigars]

Part 2 of my Matt Stone x fem!reader story

(I still don’t have a name but if you have an idea drop one)

CW: 18+, a touch of smut, boner alertz

Throughout the rest of the shooting for the scene, you had been smooching up with Matt for what seemed like hours. His own lips had even started to turn a light shade of pink from your lipstick. Trey was the one who had kept resetting the scene, getting in some good shots. You weren’t gonna complain, you would happily sit on Matt’s lap all day if needed.

“Hey, when are we getting lunch?” One of the background actors had asked, “Um, how about we do one more take and then we can break for now.” Trey looked at Matt who nodded in agreement. The crew nodded and set to take their last shots. “After this, we should run some lines during lunch.” Matt offered, once again wrapping his arms around you.

His fingers felt so plush against your skin, fitting perfectly around your bare back. “Yeah, would you mind sharing your script with me though?” You blushed in embarrassment looking down. “I must’ve dropped it earlier..” you sighed but Matt chuckled and nodded, “Of course. Let’s finish this strong.” He smirked getting into position with you.

This time as your lips met, you could feel his stubble rub against your face. His eyes were fluttered nearly shut as he pulled you closer into him, even moving his hands to your arms to hold them. The moment Matt had broken away to speak to ‘Coop’ you missed feeling his warm lips on yours.

The kisses he left on you this time felt more genuine, had some more passion. You sunk deeper into his lap, suddenly feeling something that poked your inner thigh. You couldn’t ruin the shot though, especially not wanting to embarrass Matt either. His kisses trailed a little lower on you chest as you leaned into him, giggling in character. “Cut!” Was called once again and it was finally time for lunch.

Trey politely called for a robe for you as you sat on Matt’s lap still. “Hey, you might not wanna get up yet..” you basically whispered it to him, gesturing under the water. Matt’s eyes widened and his face really went pink, “Ugh, I’m so sorry..” he groaned, hiding his face for a moment. “I didn’t say I was uncomfortable..” you smirked, teasing him as you put on your top under the water.

Matt rolled his eyes waiting a moment after you got out. Taking the robe and putting it around yourself, “Whatever, I’ll meet you in your trailer.” You chuckled, leaving to get some lunch before heading to his room, walking in and seeing it was empty. Shrugging as you set your food on his trailer's table and sat on the couch, waiting. Soon enough Matt was in there to join you, still in his swim gear.

Your robe laid loosely on your body, revealing more than you expected but still teasing Matt a little. “H-Hey..” he smiled seeing you on the couch, walking over to join you. You didn’t even need to say anything back as he leaned in with you to meet lips. “Are you okay with this?” He asked, pulling away for a moment. You nodded, “I’ve wanted this for a while..” you confessed and quickly removed your robe. Matt smiled at your response and leaned back in as you pulled his curls. His kisses trailed from your lips down to your chest, causing you to shudder in pleasure.

“Matt..” you breathed, his green eyes peaked up at you, his tongue starting to lick a line from your neck down to your breast. “Yeah?” He smiled at you, starting to kiss your breast as you whimpered under his touch. “I want you to fuck me.. like really fuck me.” You couldn’t even look him in the eyes as he chuckled nodding. “I think we could do that..” Matt leaned back up to kiss your lips, now trailing his hand down to your thighs. Feeling his hand gripping your thigh, his nails slightly digging in made you gasp.

Unfortunately this also caused you to choke on your own spit for a moment, suddenly opening your eyes to an empty room as your throat cleared. It had been some sort of messed up dream, but it had still been exciting. You groaned, checking the time and seeing you’d only been out for a little while. “Are you ready to run some lines?” Matt had finally entered, just in time to share the rest of lunch with you. “Yeah, what took your goofy ass so long?” You laughed, ignoring the lingering wetness between your thighs and coming back to reality. “Long line, gotta make sure the crew eats, duh.” He joked back, sitting next to you on the couch. “How sweet.” You smirked and leaned in with him to start going over some scenes, bumping shoulders as you practiced.

[mazeyphaedra]

brennan is so intentional about the things he lets slip about the ratgrinders that i refuse to believe ruben’s in space no one can feel you dying is about him being a bad boyfriend. it’s about lucy frostblade

heads up this is gonna be a very surface level assessment lol i hate making definitive statements if there's the slightest chance im wrong. oops! also none of this takes into account the devil’s honey, ruben’s dream, or ivy’s reaction to seeing “lucy”. (lyrics from FHJY ep3, Not All Who Wanda Are Lost)

Your boundaries slit my veins

this makes me think lucy really didn’t want to change her deity to ankarna, that she was pressured into it (still can't pinpoint a reason but probably has smth to do with the ratgrinders wanting a big bad to resurrect and fight). they fought about it and ruben got cut.

Your no thanks killed my family

in her defiance, and probably the fight and death that ensued, the high-5 heroes broke up. (raises an interesting point re: mollykiggins wanting to protect oisín. was she always like that or was it something that came up bc nothing must go wrong. she lucked out that the debacle with lucy happened after finals, but what if something happens within the year? the strength of the hero is the strength of the party. she needs to protect her party.)

And when you asked for space the space you made was outer space

lucy, lucy, lucy. principled, noble, 'she stuck to her guns' lucy. i think she asked out of the high-5 heroes and little miss overachiever was like you know too much that cannot happen i would rather you die. and in the fight, some portal or other was opened, allowing her allies or co-conspirators to do the unholy last rites. if you push a soul back past the point of raising, they can't rat you out! duh!

Can you hear me screaming

yeah ruben it's kind of embarrassing. everyone at the bus stop is staring at you and now none of them are gonna mob you for autographs

crossing my fingers for ruben on the complicated women podcast next ep!!! i need to know what happened to this made up group of high-schoolers like i need my next breath. like a normal person. see u at basrar's! <333

[marvelstars]

Tatooine and Skywalkers

I was thinking about Obi-Wan, Luke and Tatooine and realized that despite Obi´s constant complains over the planet and uncle Owen, it was Obi-Wan´s idea to bring baby Luke to Tatooine and make him survive the planet because Anakin was able to do so as well, so Luke had to show he could, as preparation to be able to defeat Vader acording to ROTS novel.

Obi could have chosen literally any other planet, Alderaan, Corellia, etc and even bring over Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru to take care of Luke but no, Luke had to survive Tatooine as a rite of passage or something like that.

So while I feel bad for Obi here you kind of made your bed mister.

About Luke and Anakin experiences on Tatooine:

While Ani certainly liked to have his own adventures and play with Kitster and Wald, he had more than enough being a slave, having a bomb inside his body, hidding threepio from Watto, developing his own detector of bomb chips to take out his and his mothers, escape with his mother in a podracer, of course until QuiGon and Padme told him they needed help, protecting himself from your usual pirates, hutt soldiers, tusken raiders who are always around Tatooine and protect his Mom from abusers while he was at it. He used the same slave system to protect her and others "It´s a shame you can´t kill me because then you would have to pay for me"

It´s LUKE the wild one who believes Tatooine is boring and he absolutely needs to have adventures elsewhere, join the imperial army and the rebellion after that, because he just had enough of shooting at giant rats from a distance and being given shores on the farm by his uncle. Sure there are Hutt soldiers around sometimes but there are also imperial soldiers so the Hutts no longer have as much influence on the planet as they used to have. Luke only comes back to Tatooine to rescue Han and turn Jabba´s base of operations to ashes before going to DS II to talk his Dad out of the darkside.

Like I love Anakin and Luke´s similarities but something I also love about them are their differences.

Anakin is totally willing to work within a system he doesn´t like if he doesn´t have other choice and he can adapt some of it´s characteristics to his and his loved ones benefice until he can fix it enough to make it better for everybody.

Luke is of the mind that if he doesn´t like a system he is totally willing to leave it or bring it down, with explosions if he can involve them.

Tatooine was instrumental in teaching them this. I love that for them.

[pursuitseternal]

“Arising” to the climax of “Our Blood is Thicker”

Astarion x Cordehlia (Named Tav) | E | 3.6 K

Love to @marimosalad , my illustrator and co creator

Summary: Cazador’s dungeons, where his love is reduced to a hostage to ensure his willingness in the Rite of Profane Ascension. The Pale Elf and the Bone Picker are faced with an even more desperate choice in that glow of Infernal magic.

CW: violence, angst, Pale Elf Quest spoilers, heartache, impossible choices, Catharsis, and near death experiences.

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 18: Arising…

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Dagger bit flesh, one last werewolf felled in the Ballroom. Blood everywhere, it covered them all, but Astarion grinned in wicked delight as he took in their progress. The Palace would be gutted, and she would be saved. Cazador would be dead, and with any luck, he might just ensure immortality and power and prestige for them both. Forever.

He looked into the faces of his friends, all just as bloodied and breathless as he was.

And what was more, they all grinned back, panting and bent over with exhaustion some, well, Gale unsurprisingly. But they all were with him.

It took a matter of moments for them to find the way to the dungeons, his stomach sinking, his undead heart somehow racing, almost tangible again in his chest as they lowered to the crypt.

Foul air hit their faces, rot and putrefaction and mold, a place he didn’t even know existed. And yet, somehow, the perfect place for Cazador to wallow and bait his trap. The sewer rat that he was.

Cells lined the walls once they reached the bottom, hundreds of glowing red eyes staring at him, clamors of parched voices, some that had haunted him for centuries.

“Are all these…?” Shadowheart’s question died on her lips as the answer became too clear.

“Targets… Victims…. More… spawn….” Astarion kept his eyes fixed ahead. “They should have been dead, drained and dismembered,” he hissed, betrayal upon betrayal festering in his stomach now. “He must need them, must be part of his plan….”

“There must be hundreds… thousands…” Halsin’s voice almost shook at the atrocity.

But atrocity had been a daily part of his life for all his years enslaved. Astarion could only push forward, unable to look or listen at the faces he still saw in his nightmares, those torturous visions that plagued him any time he wasn’t dreaming about…

“Cordehlia,” he froze outside a cell, empty and blood spattered. Crouching, he touched his fingers in the red pool of sticky blood and licked it. “Her scent is here,” he whispered, pressed and taught as every instinct to kill began to take hold. “She was here, but it’s not her blood,” he stood smirking. “Ghast and werewolf, at least she put them through the hells, by the look of it. Unarmed too.” He absentmindedly tapped the dagger at his hip.

“Of course she did,” Karalch gave a small, slight laugh, unusual for her. “That’s our girl.”

“But it doesn’t tell why so many other victims, why so many monsters,” Wyll’s voice sliced through as sharp as his blade.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance….”

The scent of brimstone and sulfur, the sting of Infernal magic in the air, that velvet baritone voice, only one Cambion would offer help one last time… just a small, black and molten form hovered at their eye level. Slowly, those dark sunken eyes, that hard-lined face materialized before them all. Half-formed from the neck up, that familiar face smirked at them.

Raphael.

“What the fuck do you want?” Astarion rounded, fangs bared and fists clenched. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit too busy to thank you for gracing us with your presence, devil,” Astarion snapped, sarcasm dripping from his words as he gave a subtle bow of his head. “If you slow me down now, you’ll find yourself short not two… but three horns someday….”

He didn’t mean horns alone. That made Karlach snicker.

But Astarion couldn’t enjoy the mirth, not when he was so very close now. That hurried bite in his words, he met Raphael’s black stare with disgust. “I don’t know why you think we might need assistance, what with facing down my old master with his army of an untold, unknown number of spawn, oh and he has the love of my life somewhere here….” He sneered, feral and fangs flashing. I think we have it under control, Raphael, so you can burst into mist and let me keep… going.” Spit flying, he snarled by the end.

“The spawn are not an army, my toothsome friend, they are his offering to Mephistopheles, the seven-thousand souls required for Cazador’s Ascension, in addition to your siblings’ and yours of course.”

The information smacked him in the chest. And every one of his companions seemed to stop breathing. “Seven-thousand souls…” Gale barely whispered in horrified reverence. Astarion rolled his eyes, of course the Wizard couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“But there is more you should know, my friends. Cazador has sampled some, a mere sliver, of the power the Vampire Ascendant will possess once the Rite is completed. That’s how he faced the thin light of dawn, how his spawn could appear in your rooms, how he could subdue that menacing and beautiful future bride of yours, Astarion.”

“I’d prefer if you quit spying on us, strange devil,” Astarion’s nostrils flared. “But since you’ve seen so much, any last warnings or advice for once?”

The black, molten form of Raphael suddenly looked very serious. “Take care of his bite,” he warned with deadly tone. “One fang through the skin, and the necrotic magic of the Ascendant will take hold, death will be slow but inevitable, allowing for the Vampire Lord enough time to decide, to torture or to turn his victim…. But there will be no amount of magic that can prevent that fate.”

Every breath held tight, even Astarion. Dread formed over his slow-beating heart, arms aching to hold her one more time. Heavy silence fell, once again broken. “By Silvanus,” Halisin sighed.

“Just remember, it wasn’t Silvanus who warned you, Astarion, it was me…” Raphael’s rippling voice chuckled into nothing as the apparition faded as well.

“For fucks sake…” Karlach bemoaned their situation as she loaded arrows into her crossbow. “Nobody is getting bitten today, dammit.”

“No,” Astarion rolled his shoulders and flashed them a smile… the deadliest they had ever seen, more fangs than mirth, more darkness in his eyes than crimson as he glanced one more time where his love had been held. “But someone is going to be turned inside out for what they have done to me and my love.” He unsheathed his shortsword and her glittering dagger with a hiss of metal. “I can promise you that.”

Air stung with magic, stank with rot. He could feel the scars on his back stinging, glimpsing the way his six siblings hung suspended by magic, their own scars aglow with infernal power.

But that wasn’t what his eyes searched for. The second he spied her at the bottom of the stairs, her skin pale and fiery hair tangled, he couldn’t stop. Astarion flew headlong into the danger, the second her silver eyes locked into his, a smile of love and relief and bloodlust crossed her own face, he only hastened all the more.

Cazador held her firm, her body clutched against his chest, arms bound before her with simple rope. “The prodigal son returns,” his Master called, even as Astarion panted and rushed with blade and dagger drawn. “You're so predictable, boy, so easy to break and crack into pieces.”

A roar in his throat, her bright dagger raised over his head, he was ready to strike. Until Cazador waved that massive staff, a wall of hot magic, singeing and red, slammed into him. He was so close, barely an arm’s reach from her… from him. But glowing red sigils burned around his wrists, his breath catching as it scorched in his throat. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“Only if you don’t let me do it first,” Cordehlia hissed and thrashed, elbowing the vampire in his chest. To no effect.

“It’s going to be quite hard to do that, now that my will has wrapped itself around you again, boy.”

The circlets of red grew brighter, Astarion grunting as he bit his teeth firmly shut. He wouldn’t give Cazador the satisfaction of another scream or grunt in pain. “Fuck you,” he ground out against the agony rushing through his body. “You have me, let her go, you bastard.”

“I’ll let her go, once she witnesses you fulfilling your true destiny, thankless child.” Cazador cackled, waving that fearsome staff of his to intensify the hissing sounds of flesh burning, increasing the glow of those shackles on her love’s wrists. “You were made to be consumed.”

“Astarion!” Cordehlia cried, wrestling against the iron hold around her frame. “No, you were made to destroy, my love. You were made in the darkness under pressure like adamantine, just like me. You were made to avenge yourself against him….”

“Shut up, you whore,” Cazador gripped his hand around her mouth, but she bit through his pale, flaky skin, only to yell louder once that vampire squealed in pain.

“He killed your parents, he beat me from your memory, used you, defiled you, and yet we found each other again. You will fight, my love, fight and win, Astar—“

That cold, steely grip clutched around her throat, and Cordehlia sputtered for air beneath it.

Astairon’s body writhed, twisting and strengthening as he grit his teeth and closed his eyes. Every iota of his love for her boiled to the surface, every bit of his rage burst from inside him, his need to be free, to be with her exploded from within. Hissing, shattering, the binding magic broke from his wrists. The sigils of his infernal scars decimated in an instant, and Astarion stretched his arms and bared his fangs. The only thing brighter than his teeth was that dagger still held firmly in his fingers.

Freed.

“Impossible…” Cazador snarled, his fingers releasing from her throat enough for Cordehlia to gasp in some air. “Even now, you resist? Foolish, stupid boy and his foolish, stupid whore.” Long fingers gripped into her hair and pulled her head sharply to the side, her neck bones almost cracking at the force. “You should have known your place, child.”

Astarion’s eyes seemed to watch it all happen so slowly… the way her hands opened, her eyes locked on her dagger in his grip… the narrowing of her gaze, ordering him to toss it wordlessly….

It happened so quickly, so slowly at once. That bright dagger sailed through the air, unwavering from his dexterous grip until it landed square in her outstretched hand. A smile crossed his face as she held it firm and fast, turning it to sink it into the soft belly behind her. A satisfied slick noise filed the dungeon as it sank home.

But her face flashed from triumph to agony. From bloodlust to torment. Astarion’s eyes flew from her perfect lips, her shining eyes to the set of fangs that now buried in her neck.

Watching in horror as Cazador sank his deadly fangs in her flesh.

Instantly, he released that bite, dagger buried in his gut through his ostentatious jerkin. The vampire stumbled back, that nefarious staff of his falling to the ground. But as their companions descended on his old master with light spells and damaging blows, Astarion could only move slowly, as if trapped in quicksand, reaching to catch her.

Her body was shaking, necrotic streaks already darkening the shallow bite on her neck. Perfect pale skin stained dark, her beautiful face gathering beads of sweat as the poison already crept through her veins. Astarion could only cradle her, warm tears finally dripping down his cheek, lips unable to say much of anything but the music of her name over and over again as he held her against his chest.

Throat bobbing, she swallowed through the agony, “I got him, didn’t I?”

“Yes, my love,” a feeble smile and tear streaked voice replying as he stroked her hair. All he could hear was the slowing beat of her heart, the din of battle beyond them so distant, so… unimportant compared to finally holding her once more.

Maybe only one more time.

Halsin crowded over them, “Bring him here,” he ordered to the rest of their party. Scuffling and dragging, slung between Karlach and Wyll, Cazador hung limp, but still alive. Or undead. Halsin pawed at Astarion’s shoulder, something warm and assuring and irritating about it all at once. “It’s for you to decide.”

Astarion looked up, eyes burning with hate as he locked his gaze on his old master. But he couldn’t bring himself to let her go, not with the way her arms clung around his chest, the way her heart seemed to slow beneath his own ribs. “Do something, Cleric,” he snarled, gesturing with his head at how his love began to visibly shiver.

“Astarion…” Shadowheart tried to cajole, but he would not take that patronizing tone.

“Halsin, Gale,” he snapped their names. “What good is all that magic and faith if you can’t heal her.”

“The devil said it wasn’t curable, but I could try to slow the poison,” Halsin finally sighed. “But there is only one solution to this…”

“My death,” Cordehlia shuddered, teeth chattering as her flesh began to grow impossibly cold. “I can… feel it. Have dreaded this for so long…”

“Or your undeath….” He whispered, just to himself. Astarion glanced up, taking in the carnage and misery and atrocity around them. Blood-slicked stone, throbbing infernal magic still holding his siblings bound by their scars. That one missing space meant for his death, waiting to be filled to complete the Rite…. “Do what you can to buy us time, Druid,” he ordered, lifting her shaking body towards the Elf, to place in his arms, carefully like the tender babe she was to him. “I have matters to attend to.”

“Astarion,” Cordehlia moaned as she was moved. “What are you d-doing?”

“What I promised you,” he knelt as Halsin rested her against him on the ground, cradling her in his large, warm arms. “I’m going to save you, to protect you, to make you my Bride.”

“Seven… th-thousand…” she managed to say before a wrack of pain shot through her body and made her teeth snap tight.

Her love’s palm cradled her cheek, his breath cold on her lips as he kissed her so, so softly. “Seven-thousand souls is a small price to pay to save your one, beautiful one,” he murmured.

“A-starion…” she managed to hiss through her torment.

“Yes, my darling?” he replied, lips still brushing hers even as they, too, grew cold.

“Use… my dagger,” she swallowed.

Astarion smiled, a kiss on her forehead, cold and wet with her body’s agony. “Anything for you, my treasure.”

Standing, he crossed to that monster, his former tormentor, and threw Cazador’s tunic up over his head. Raising at last, he found Gale’s hand so close, that bloodied, bright dagger in his offering palm. “Use the tadpole,” the Wizard nodded. “See your own scars, and it should suffice to appease the Infernal contract.” He winced as he heard his own words. “Do it for Cordehlia.”

Never before had he disrobed faster, armor and shirt lying at his feet as he took that warm blade in his hand. Astarion could say nothing, had to ignore the way he could just see from the corner of his eyes at how the Druid tried every kind of magic to draw the poison out. Shaking his head, he kept that focus locked on the sight of his own back, seeing his scars through Gale’s eyes. But all the while, he kept his pointed ear trained on Cordhelia’s heart, how it sometimes raced and sometimes slowed. And it only spurred his own markings to be that much sharper and more precise in that monster’s flesh. A matter of moments, and he finally pronounced his work completed.

He picked up that horrific staff, ignoring the way it vibrated in his hand, overwhelmed by its rush of magic as it coursed up his arm and down his spine. Power like nothing he could have ever imagine flooded his body, instantly his tongue danced over the words of the Profane Rite, put on his lips by the magic in the air. He could have watched with twisted pleasure as Cazador’s nearly-broken body flew to be suspended in his own place. He could have savored the way magic raced up and down every nerve as the spell tripped off his tongue, as the staff seemed to move his body of its own.

No, all he could watch was Cordehlia’s silver eyes fluttering, fighting to stay open to watch him ascending. All he could savor was the way his heart filled with the promise of a power so overwhelming, he could finally do something worthy of her. Finally able to save her. Feeling it finally begin to beat for her again.

The world around him seemed to still, to sharpen and explode all at once. Dropping that staff to the ground, he rushed to her once more. Her hand trembled in his grasp, skin waxy and cold. Halsin’s big green eyes looked back at him, grief stricken and saying more than words could. He passed her feeble body into Astarion’s outstretched arms as he crouched on the dirty floor beside them. Her head lolled against his shoulder, silver eyes half shut, forced open to looking into his handsome face until the end.

“You’ll have to fight poison with poison,” the Druid smiled weakly, trying to reassure the Ascendant being before him that radiated magic, Astarion’s skin paler than death and eyes glowing like demonic flame.

Astarion nodded, he didn’t want to do this here. Not in a dungeon, not in his old home of such torment, and certainly not in front of all the others. But there was no choice now, and the price paid was too great to fail now. “Cordehlia,” he whispered in her ear, “thank you for trusting me, I just need you to trust me a little further.”

She managed a nod with her eyes still barely opened.

Blood filled his mouth, and fangs sank into the holes Cazador had made. His mouth sucked the tainted blood from her veins, almost souring his stomach as he drank until the taste of that monster’s magic was gone from her body.

Until there was only the taste of her on his tongue again.

And yet, even as she showed all the signs of being bloodless, her heart beat steadied with his magic now in her veins. It would be enough for now, enough to start her own rite, enough to keep her from true death for a while. He stood, feeling waves of power rippling from his muscles in new and strange ways. Suddenly far too aware of the way his heart thumped in his chest again—rapid and alarmed and living. Too ironic, too sad to be truly appreciated as her own pulse continued to slow. “We have to get her back to the Elfsong,” he pronounced, blood dripping down his chin, standing to carry her tenderly in his arms. “I will need to complete my work in privacy.”

Halsin cocked a brow. “Very well,” he nodded, leading them all back through the halls until they could reach the brush of daylight once more, followed by a simple teleportation back to their suite of rooms.

Not a second was wasted. Not now that he was so close. Ascended. Freed. More power at the tips of fingers than any of his kind had ever possessed. And yet his happiness laid unmoving against his chest, nearly lifeless against his now-beating heart.

Astarion kicked open the door to a set of rooms apart, setting her on the dark, postered bed. Quickly, he bit her wrist, sucking more and more of her sweet vintage straight from her veins.

His heart broke at all of what could have been, at all the various futures and paths that faded from view. She wasn’t even conscious to enjoy this union, to feel the way their essences combined into one, stronger and equal and powerful the more he drank her down. She couldn’t hear the little praises he poured over her, her ears deaf to every time he called her his love, his darling, his treasure, the mate of his heart and soul…

But he poured them over her barely-conscious face all the same, peppering her face with bloodied kisses even as it grew white as a sheet.

One last bite was all it would take. This love of his life, near dead and almost lost to him a second time, she would be his forever.

As his fangs sunk into her neck, marking afresh the scars that had formed there over their weeks reunited, he drank his fill. Breaking away at last once she neared the very dregs of her life, Astarion stopped. He was breathless, his stomach full to near bursting, even though it no longer throbbed with a spawn’s hunger.

Hand shaking, he brought his wrist to his teeth, tearing a slit in own flesh to place against her chalky lips. He could sense it entering her body, dripping down her throat to pool in her own belly. But he held his breath all the same.

Body rigid, he had never been more afraid than right now, not as his love’s life hung in the balance, not as she counted on his power to bring her back into the same realm as him, even if it was under the veil of undeath.

Her lips stirred first against his wound, just a little movement, just a slight suck. Crimson eyes flashed open were once silver ones shined at him, and Corehelia smiled as she sucked down his blood.

Astarion finally breathed, his chest easing at last.

His bride was arising.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

I do know that Ascension can be divisive, however I hope this gives some firmer ground to stand on… spoonfuls of “Burn the world” for his love and “Touch her and you die” make it go down smoother, I hope. No more long lost love💞

Aeterna Amantes

3 more days until Chapter 19: Dark Kissing, when she awakens🩸💞🗡️

[abigailmoment]

In The Absence Of Stars

Tags: Tragic Kindness, Post-Solitary Confinement, Disassociation, Vampire Spawn Culture, Terrible Hurt and Strange Comfort, Starvation, Healing from Trauma, Polyamory, Community Building, Eating Disorder, Codependency, Self-Harm Through Neglect, Prevented Suicide Attempt, Familiars As Service Animals, Learning, Getting Better, Hurt and Actual Comfort

-

Astarion's neck prickled and his hands tightened around his mug. He knew he had limited time. And he knew he was doing this wrong. He was at a table in the back corner, and that was wrong of him. He should be at the bar. He should be on display. That's how you drew people. Pretty didn't work if it was hidden in a corner.

Pretty didn't work if it was hidden under stone.

"Are you all right?"

Someone was close. Someone had gotten close, and Astarion hadn't even noticed. Something inside of him flinched, but the impulse didn't make it to his body. There was a strange delay between mind and movement.

When he did move it was to look up and try to make sense of the shape next to him. Tall. Green. Teeth.

"You're not all right," said the half-orc.

-

This was inspired by this story by @ineadhyn.

I made the Samaritan a half-orc because I needed someone who would be completely unafraid to walk someone else home at night in Baldur's Gate. By the end I realized that the kind but assertive voice I had for him was based quite a bit on Finch, who belongs to @everchased and who therefore should be credited for inspiration.

It obviously isn't actually him, because that would be unbearably hideous, and also he's in the future, smiting evildoers. Possibly this is some great grand-uncle.

-

Astarion couldn't talk properly.

He was out, but his voice was back in the crypt. Trapped under a slab. Dusty and broken.

He ordered a drink by pointing. He had coins in his pocket. He had found them months ago. There was loose change in tombs, if you looked hard enough. For long enough. Funerary rites. Coins for the dead. Meant for a different corpse. His now.

Five copper for a year of solitude. Not…not a very good price.

It was enough to buy a very cheap drink that he didn't want. A necessary prop, he remembered.

He remembered the rote things. The need to get a drink to justify existing in this space. He remembered where this space was. The taven's name had changed, he was fairly sure, but it was much the same. Dingy, but not filthy. Populated by few groups, mostly solitary drinkers. Poorly lit.

Even the dim lantern light made his eyes hurt. Everything seemed so bright.

The light was better than darkness, anything was better than darkness, but it had been so abrupt. Nothing and nothing and nothing and then an assault of light and hideous movement. Dragged out by Godey. Washed by Aurelia. He had mauled a rat to tatters and not had time to pick the skin out of his teeth before he had to leave. He had to find someone. As he always did. As if it hadn't happened. As if the last year hadn't happened.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to fold down on the floor and cry.

He took his drink and went to find a place to sit. He held it with both hands. His grip was about as reliable as his voice. He found a table. He held his drink as if it meant something to him. He sat still.

This was…this was bearable. This moment. Sitting here. Away enough from the lanterns that they didn't blind so much. There was movement and noise, which was good because if it got too quiet he might actually scream, but it wasn't all around him, like it had been on the street. It wasn't doing anything to him.

At the moment.

Astarion's neck prickled and his hands tightened around his mug.

He knew he had limited time. And he knew he was doing this wrong. He was at a table in the back corner, and that was wrong of him. He should be at the bar. He should be on display. That's how you drew people. Pretty didn't work if it was hidden in a corner.

Pretty didn't work if it was hidden under stone.

"Are you all right?"

Someone was close. Someone had gotten close, and Astarion hadn't even noticed. Something inside of him flinched, but the impulse didn't make it to his body. There was a strange delay between mind and movement.

When he did move it was to look up and try to make sense of the shape next to him. Tall. Green. Teeth.

"You're not all right," said the half-orc.

He leaned over and Astarion didn't know what to do. Scripts were jumbling together in his head. There were all sorts of things he was supposed to do when someone leaned into his space and he wasn't doing any of them. Just sitting there. Like a mouse. Or a statue.

"I think you've had a little too much…" the half-orc was saying, because he was leaning over to look at Astarion's drink. He stopped talking briefly when he saw it was untouched.

"…something," he still maintained, with a fair amount of confidence. "Are you here with anyone?"

Astarion shook his head. Always no to that.

The half-orc looked relieved that he'd actually responded, and eyed him critically for a moment. Then he sat down in a chair across from Astarion.

"Did you drink something?" he asked Astarion. "Or eat something?"

A rat. It had been a moment of abject ecstasy and nowhere near enough. But that's not what was meant. Astarion shook his head.

"Did something happen to you?" the half-orc asked.

Astarion didn't shake his head. He didn't nod. What was he supposed to say to that?

"There's a Fist officer on the street outside," the half-orc said. "Do you need me to…?"

"No."

Then Astarion coughed, because there was still dust in his throat.

"Okay. Okay." The half-orc was holding his hands up. "Not that. That's fine."

Astarion finished coughing. He took a drink of pointless liquid. His hands were shaking. He was so useless right now. If even this was too much, he had no idea how he was going to…

"Do you live nearby?" the half-orc asked him.

That ticked a familiar note in Astarion's brain. That was part of a script, but it wasn't part of this script. Whatever this was. Astarion just stared at him.

"Look. I'm going to get you home, all right?" the half-orc said.

Something inside of Astarion froze. It couldn't be this easy. It was never this easy.

He nodded.

And it was easy.

Astarion was helped to his feet. He was steered very gently around the tables, chairs and other solitary drinkers. The door was opened for him.

They walked through the dark streets. No one bothered them, because one of them was six feet tall and had tusks. Astarion didn't even have to talk. He just pointed down the streets where they needed to go.

The half-orc kept a hand on Astarion's arm. Not possessive. Astarion knew possessive. It was like he was concerned Astarion might fall over and wanted to be in a position to do something about that if it happened. And it had been a year. A year since any kind of touch like that. And it was light enough that it didn't overwhelm, and Astarion felt like his body was somehow devouring it through the point of contact on his arm. Like the rat. Abject ecstasy and nowhere near enough.

And Astarion kept pointing down streets leading them closer and closer to his home.

It felt like there was a mortar and pestle inside of his chest. And every step he took turned the pestle and ground away at something. Something slender and enduring. Something that he hadn't realized he still had, didn't remember the name of, and that he was slowly destroying by doing this. A feeling like watching the night sky and seeing stars winking out.

They stopped at the base of the main stairs, that led up to the familiar mahogany door of the least convoluted entrance.

"You gonna be okay from here?" the half-orc asked.

He sounded a little intimidated. Because Astarion had led him to a castle.

And there was a moment, when the dying, ground down thing inside of Astarion's chest fluttered. A keening desire to do something, anything, other than what he was currently doing. But it was an impulse that didn't translate into motion. A death rattle. Because he was fresh from a lesson about sentiment. And the night sky was black, like the inside of a tomb.

"Would you mind…" Astarion started quietly, and stuttered, but managed to thread the words together in the end: "I may have trouble with the stairs."

"Sure," the half-orc said, immediately.

And he helped Astarion up the stairs and into the Szarr Palace.

-

This was supposed to be a short story about the POV character.

It is now an ongoing series about the half-orc. There are going to be about twenty chapters. I have all of it outlined and much of it written.

Gods preserve me. The rest of it is on AO3. -

[gingerbloof]

Glimpse of Us (An Ascended!Astarion x Spawn Fem!Tav Ongoing Series)

summary: When Tav helps Astarion complete the Rite of Profane Ascension, she realizes that he is no longer the man she had fallen in love with. However, she does her best to make her true love happy. But will the cost of her self worth and identity prove too much to pay for the price of love? contents: 18+, blood/blood drinking, hurt/no comfort, tragedy, manipulation, abusive relationship, anxiety, panic attacks, eventual smut, major character death chapter word count: 1,019

chapter 1: The Day of the Ascension

“Ecce dominus, Has animas offero in sacrificio, Nunc volo protestatum quam pollicitus es mihi!”

Tav listened to the foreign, dark words that left Astarion’s lips as the blinding red light surrounded him. His arms thrown out and his eyes glowing a terrifying hue. She watched as all his siblings’ bodies burst apart, their blood pooling down towards him.

Her eyes were wide with bewilderment. She was so proud of him… Everything he ever wished for was coming true, and that’s all she ever wanted for her love. So why did she feel like something terrible was happening?

She briefly heard Shadowheart shout, trying to stop him. A low growl left him as he stared at her angrily. “Don’t you dare,” He said, his eyes glowing ever brighter. “I can feel their power flowing into me!”

Cazador was the last one to burst. He let out a deafening scream as he did, his blood flowing to the sigil that Astarion stood upon. Soon enough, the light dimmed down and Astarion let out a sigh of relief. “I… I can’t feel it,” He muttered breathlessly. “The hunger, it’s gone! I’m free!” The smile on his face could bring light to the darkest day. Tav had never seen him so happy, and she was happy for him.

“You did it! You really did it!” She smiled wide and ran to give Astarion a big hug. He smirked devilishly as she did, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “I did… We did.” He said, placing a soft kiss on her head. As she let go and turned around, she saw all the disapproving faces on her other companion’s faces. Shadowheart looked undeniably hurt, and Gale shook his head as he looked at her with furrowed brows. But she didn’t care what they thought. As long as her love was safe and happy, she would do anything for him.

Astarion holds his hands in front of him, that devilish smirk still pinned to his face. “This is it…” He said triumphantly. “The hopeless dream dreamt by all my kind… I am the greatest vampire to ever walk this land!” He grinned a fang filled grin. Tav smiled back at him, getting ever so lost in his happiness. “You are magnificent,” Tav said in a whisper. It was true, though he looked the same there was something very different about his stature, the way he held himself. He had more confidence than she had ever seen in anyone. He deserved to feel this way, he always had.

“I felt so very little, for so long…” He said, his voice starting to twinge with sadness. “My edges dulled over the numb years rotting in the boudoir and kennels,” It was true. For so long, too long, Astarion was only ever made to be consumed and to consume. He never had any ounce of self worth these last 200 years, and now he was finally, truly free from it. 

“Now…” He began, a growl in his voice. “I can hear it at last… See it at least. How all the lowly creatures of this plane are begging to serve. How to call upon them.” These words made Tav’s heart drop. Lowly creatures? Serve? Maybe he was still chasing the adrenaline high from achieving his goal… This wasn’t Astarion at all. 

“Scurrying footpads in their safe-houses, rats below our feet in their filthy holes, the crows in the night above! They will… Obey.”

Tav’s face began to grow with worry. What in the hells was Astarion talking about?

His eyes met hers for the first time since the Rite began. His eyes grew with hunger and demand. “In you, too,” He said, pointing at her. “I can tell… Your heartbeat races. You go quiet when I speak… You await my command… The world will stir with fear.”

Tav started to slowly back away from her love, her heart aching at his words. He was so different… Too different.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she spoke, slow and wary. “Star… You’re starting to scare me…” She expected him to stop this dramatic, power hungry speech when she said this. She expected him to realize what he was saying, but unfortunately he didn’t. He continued, not even batting an eye to the fact that he was striking fear into the one he loved most. “Our lives will never be the same again. Everything will be our’s. Everything. I can already hear the world whispering in sweet surrender. And I feel alive!” He chuckled darkly, closing his eyes and basking in his new found power. It was as if he was the only one in the room. He paid no mind to show concern when Tav began to shake with fear at the sight of her lover, completely reborn. He was unrecognizable.

She let out a nervous chuckle, trying her best to not overthink about what her love was saying. “I’m just happy you’re happy, Star…” She said with a sad smile on her face. “You deserve nothing more than to be free.” Astarion smiled and walked toward her, placing a searing kiss on her lips. She kissed back reluctantly, getting lost in him. He pulled her in by her waist with one hand and cupped her face gently with the other. He broke the kiss quickly, staring into her eyes hungrily. “My treasure,” He said, the new pet name surprising Tav. “You are going to be wonderfully obedient.” 

He let her go and started to leave the palace, leaving Tav and his other companions behind, still acting like he was the only one who was there. The way he let her go was almost like batting a fly away. Dismissive, and crude. Tav felt her heart crack and splinter a bit at his words and the way he let her go. It felt as if he only acknowledged her when it benefited him.

As the rest of the party slowly left Cazador’s palace,Tav stood there silently, looking back at the gruesome scene behind her. There was only one thought drifting through Tav’s mind…

What have I done?

authors note: trying out a chapter by chapter series :') it's my first one and i'm so excited to see how it turns out! i have also decided to make a special playlist for this fic series! each chapter is going to have a song from the play list associated with it, and i will link it with each chapter that i post! i am planning on releasing a new chapter every friday, but if that falters i do apologize. i hope you all enjoy! reblogs and comments are much appreciated