Thinking about a collection of folktales I read years ago. I think they were Trannslyvannian? I dunno why, I think I was on a folktale/folklore kick at the time and didn't feel like reading the classics. Anyways this collection had a couple of stories that are stuck in my brain to this day.
- 7th bastards of 7th bastards are cursed to become werewolves. Dude finds this out the hard way when he kills a werewolf that was one of his kids and turns into a werewolf himself.
Werewolves are fully wolf-shaped in this folklore collection btw.
- a flamewheel/firewheel wolf (werewolf technically) lures to kids to a mansion Hansel & Gretel style for a vampire to eat. Turns out flaming wheel wolf and vampire were cursed brothers. Curse gets broken. Evil brother now dead and Good brother like "Yeah, we made our problems everyone else's problem. Sorry about all the terrorizing and near death experiences kids."
- unknowingly (???) austic coded protag story. Protag hears the princess has lost her dream (wish? Something like that) and goes on a journey to find it. One of the people he meets along the way is this dude stomping about because he lost his temper. Protag finds prickly fruit like thing he assumes is angry dude's temper but cannot locate guy to return it. Eventually Protag locates princess's dream (or whatever) and return to castle only for a dragon to be there. Kills dragon by tricking it into eating temper-fruit.
Anyone know this collection? Amd can point me to book? I would like to reread.
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hurt comfort with the astarion guy pls I don't don't know anything about the game I've just seen clips of him on youtube and I love him
you aSK AND YOU SHALL RECIEVE i love him
Blood is Rare and Sweet as Cherry Wine
Character: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)
Warnings: reverse hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol (reader doesn’t drink), general astarion backstory information but it’s nothing super specific. not proofread
Notes: almost cried writing this. im sorry. anyway I'm a hozier lover what else is new.
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Astarion stared at the fire, leaning back against one of the boxes under his tent. There was something serene about this area—they’d never been attacked at camp, and it comforted him to know he could let his guard down somewhere. If only slightly.
He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you walking up to him until you spoke.
“Astarion?” you asked, voice softer than he expected. “Are you alright?”
He must have looked upset—he didn’t need your pity, though, so he tried to shake himself back to reality. “What can I do for you, my dear?” he asked, sitting up a bit straighter and taking a sip of the ale next to him.
You paused, looking at him with your eyebrows furrowed slightly, then finally decided to sit next to him. He offered the ale but you declined. Instead, you turned your body to face him and slowly, gently, brushed a bit of hair out of his face.
And he flinched.
You quickly pulled your hand away from him and rested it in your lap. He stared, wide-eyed, terrified of his own actions. He’d inflicted pain on countless others and never felt guilt for it, but such a simple gesture broke him.
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice small and quiet. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Astarion was always so eccentric, so proud, so…unafraid. This was an entirely new side to him, and he was even more embarrassed to show it to you. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide, but he didn’t have the energy to make his feet move. To make anything move.
There was a beat of silence, where the two of you only listened to the crackling fire a few feet away. Then, you spoke. “You don’t have to apologize for anything.”
He didn’t understand how you could be so kind to him. There were so many things wrong with him as a person, or things from his past—he’d hurt people, tricked them, found ways for dear Cazador to turn them into mindless little puppets. Like he was, before all this mindflayer business.
There was so much wrong in the world, and there you sat. His ray of sunshine—his hope. Somehow with you, things seemed a little less dreary. True, there was some mystical dream-being that followed you around keeping everyone from sprouting tentacles, so that was something positive. But your general disposition, the way you smiled at him when you caught him staring at you, the way you snuck away from the rest of camp with him to watch the stars…all these things made him fall so hopelessly in love.
He couldn’t be that person for you, though. He never learned how to make big, romantic gestures or show his affection in a way that made sense. A way that made sure you knew he adored you in your best and worst moments. Cazador had ruined him—he’d ruined any semblance of having a normal life. On top of being a vampire spawn and ripped away from his life before, he was stuck in an endless loop of servitude and puppetry or constantly fearing for his life. He never learned or could afford, to just relax. You deserved someone who could love you whole-heartedly, not the monster he’d become.
“I care for you so, so deeply, my dear,” he all but whispered, voice tight with emotion.
“I know.”
“I cannot, for the life of me…” he trailed off, quickly wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “I cannot understand why you care for me.”
His head hung low; you stared at him, shocked and unsure how to react to his words. He felt embarrassed, he felt small—there was nothing he could do, it seemed, to pull himself out of this rut he had himself stuck in lately.
Then he heard your words.
“Can I hug you, Astarion?”
He glanced over to you, seeing teh pleading look in your eyes. You’d asked. Maybe that made him feel a little more normal, a little less messed up. Hesitantly, he leaned into your embrace. The moment he felt the warmth of your arms around him, though, he melted. He laid his head on your chest, his full weight falling into you exponentially by the second. And with it, he began to cry.
It was heart-wrenching sobs that felt like someone stabbing him through the heart every time, but he couldn’t mistake the comfort of your hands running through his hair. The soothing, repetitive motion calmed his nerves more than he thought possible. After what felt like ages, he began to sit up, trying to put himself back together like that hadn’t just happened. His eyes looked slightly irritated, but he tried desperately to wipe any evidence of his outburst from his face—
Suddenly, he felt your hands around his face, thumbs running over his cheeks. He stopped—his hands slowly fell, and he relaxed into your embrace once again.
“You do not have to apologize for feeling things, Astarion,” you said softly. “And you certainly don’t have to hide from me. Not your thoughts, not your emotions.”
He nodded, turning his head slightly to the side to kiss the palm of your hand. His voice was hoarse but surprisingly gentle. “Thank you. I don’t deserve you.”
“That’s the thing. You do.”
He smiled softly—it had been a long time since he felt like he could do so freely.
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