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#they are a tiefling and they are afraid of getting close to people
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Hypersexual
Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1K WC
Masterlist
Warnings: reference to SA if you squint?, Astarion being soft, reader being defensive af, persistent Astarion, happy ending because I'm weak
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It was one of the first things Astarion noticed about you. Your bed was rarely empty. The Grove, the Goblin Camp, the Underdark, Moonrise Towers, etc. Everywhere you went you seemed to have a warm body beside you by the end of the night. Himself included. He pined for your attention. Feeding from you daily brought you close, sleeping with you brought you closer, opening up bit by bit brought you even closer. And yet, he could still find the occasional rando leaving your tent at first light. If he listened closely enough, he could almost always hear sniffles coming from your tent every time someone left. He typically ignored it, opting to not care so he didn’t get attached. Unfortunately for him, he was attached. He had been for a while and seeing people leave your tent was like a knife to the chest every time. He wanted to confront you eventually, so that's what he did. 
He walked over to your tent, hearing the sniffles intensify the closer he got. When he peered inside he saw your naked form, balled up tight, sobbing quietly. He saw the hickies and claw marks the tiefling from last night had left on you. “Y/N?” he whispered.
You swiftly wiped your tears away as you moved to cover yourself up. “Astarion, darling. It’s so early, is everything alright?” You threw on the best smile you could manage while willing yourself to shed no more tears. 
“Why are you crying?” he asked as he moved into your tent fully.
“Tears of pleasure.” you waved him off, doing your best to sound lustful.
“You’re a terrible liar, my sweet.” he said as he sat opposite from you but still giving you space. 
You sighed, rolling your eyes, “Why do you care anyways?” you cringed internally, that sounded harsher than you intended. 
Astarion’s eyes softened a bit, “Because I care for you.” he said honestly. 
“Because I’m your blood bag,” you scoffed. “Worry not, I’m well enough for you to feed so… get on with it I guess.” you said as you tucked your hair behind your ear, leaning in for him to chomp down on your pulse point. 
Yet you felt nothing but the cold night air. Your eyes found his after a moment of hesitation. “What?” you said.
“You are so much more than food.” he said, a guilty look on his face. Is that all you thought of him? Somebody using you? “Why do you sleep with them?” he asked suddenly, trying to connect the dots in his head.
Your eyes widened, “It’s none of your business.” you said, your voice wavering. “I like sex, so why not?” your eyes avoided his, afraid he would see the truth in them. 
“Terrible liar.” he whispered, his foot tapping against your knee trying to get your attention. 
“Because it makes it all hurt a little less!” you yelled, his consistent questioning pushing you over the edge. “Because it fills the fucking void somebody put inside me. They used me, they hurt me. So if I can be desired, even for a moment, I will.” you felt tears stream down your cheeks as Astarion watched you, his mouth slightly agape. “This horrible feeling sits inside me like tar. Black and oozing and there is nothing I can do to fix it. I sleep with them because I want to know I can still be desired if I cannot be loved.”
“Who said you cannot be loved?” he said, leaning forward to wipe a tear from your face with his thumb.
“I… I just can’t… nobody can love me after what they did to me. Taking my body, playing with it while I just laid there… frozen. I thought they loved me…” you mumbled, memories from your past flooding you. 
“I love you.” he said simply.
Your head whipped up to gaze at him, “You don’t even know what love is Astarion.” you turned away from him so he couldn’t see you cry. 
“On the contrary… I have seen lust. I did it for 200 years. But this ache I have inside me, the longing I have for you and only you. That, I believe, is love. And… I like to imagine you feel the same way.” Astarion put a hand on your shoulder, moving slowly when you initially flinched away. 
“How can you love me? Aren’t you disgusted?” you whimpered. You wanted to believe him so badly, but how could you? You were made to be used. 
Astarion shifted so he could see you as he tilted your quivering chin upwards. “For sleeping with others? Darling I have bedded thousands.” he rubbed your cheek reassuringly. 
“That’s different. You didn’t have a choice.” you said, your voice coming out strained.
“I would argue that you didn’t either. When someone violates you like that… I’ve seen it go two ways. You overindulge, or you isolate. Both are natural reactions. Yours was to try and find solace, penance in others. None of it is shameful… it’s just… how things are I suppose.” he said, struggling a bit to find the right words but you felt the connection he was trying to make. 
“Each of them took a little piece of my soul… I’m not sure how much is left of me to give.” you shuddered in a breath, trying to calm yourself. 
“I don’t want your soul… All I ask is your heart, in exchange for mine.” he smiled at you, moving to hold your hand while he cupped your cheek. You had never seen eyes with so much sincerity and kindness. 
“I… I’d like that.” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his for a moment before your eyes opened once again with worry. “Do we have to…” you motioned between the two of you and the bedroll.
“Not until you want to. Completely, freely.” he nodded at you.
“And if I never want to?” you asked cautiously.
“Then I will love you all the same.” he leaned in slightly. He could feel your breath on his lips but waited for you to close the gap. 
You kissed him softly. He could feel the fear and apprehension in your kiss. While you felt the patience and adoration in his.
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Naboo's Note:
Hello lovelies! Hope ya'll like this one as well. Two in one night? What a deal lol I really like this one. Is it a bit of a trauma dump? Yes but writing is how I get it out and Astarion would 10000% comfort me through any of it. We love a supportive king. What a guy. Anyways! - be safe everyone, see ya'll soon!
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thresher-art · 4 months
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The Mind Reader (Chapter 2)
Pairing: Astarion/AFAB!Reader
Eventual Background Tadpolycule
Chapter Summary: Astarion reaches a breaking point in trying to pretend he's not a vampire, unable to choke down food that tastes like ash to him night after night any longer. Especially when you are so close to him, smelling so terribly delectable.
Lucky for him, you don't mind helping him out.
Warnings: Smut 18+ content, dry humping, blood drinking, blood kink, telepathic voyeurism, masturbation. TW: mentions of past attempted sexual assault. (Full list of tags on AO3)
A/N: We've got our first bit of smutty-ness!
I've had Astarion try to jump my bones the second long rest I ever took in a playthrough without ever finding the exsanguinated boar, so I figured he wouldn't be able to wait too long before trying to come for a nibble.
I'm not sure if DnD rules state what happens when a vampire does eat normal food, so I borrowed this little bit of lore from Vampire: The Masquerade instead.
AO3
Previous / Next
By now, you're very familiar with your companion's minds.
You found Lae'zel along the way. You were able to talk the two tieflings keeping her captive into letting her go without violence, appealing to their current frightened state. Lae'zel's mind is the only one so far you can't even take a crack at - she thinks entirely in Gith, so you can only rely on the emotion behind the thought to try and see what she's thinking.
She's mostly annoyed at you istik. But sometimes, in the moments she is most abrasive, you can tell she's deeply, deeply afraid. She's so far from home, away from familiarity, in a world where everything is so different and wrong, and now she's at risk of turning into the thing her people may hate the most.
Gale's mind can get dizzyingly complex. He likes thinking himself into a tizzy, but the kind of tizzy that's structured to him and him only. You find snippets of magical tomes and other wizardry in there, but when his mind wanders, you catch him thinking about certain passages of particularly raunchy books he's read recently. When you can't sleep, sometimes you enter his mind just to have him 'read' to you.
Shadowheart has the most intriguing mind so far. She's admitted that she had a few memories repressed for the safety of whatever mission her goddess Shar has sent her on. That statement alone had made your mental fingers, as well as the tadpole, tingle in excitement. Repressed memories, or forgotten ones, are some of your favourite. You've helped people dig up ones they've lost - for a price, of course. You've already tried digging around in Shadowheart's head, only for some force to violently push you out.
Never had the divine intervened in your telepathic sleuthing, and the fact that Shar, of all beings, pushed you out of Shaowheart's mind makes you want to dig deeper all the more.
But Shadowheart is a pleasant companion, so you repress the urge to be as intrusive as you usually are. Besides - you don't want to risk a smiting just for being nosy.
Wyll - your newest addition - has a similar mind to Shadowheart's. You can tell he's a warlock - his magic doesn't feel innate, like yours, nor does it feel intricately practiced, like Gale's. Whenever you try to find why or how he gained his powers, you can hear a feminine giggle resonate in your mind, one scolding you for sticking your nose in places it doesn't belong like a bad little pup.
Clearly, Wyll's patron has no interest in satisfying your curiosity.
Astarion's mind is the one you usually haunt. It feels comfortable, really. His inner commentary is incredibly entertaining, to the point that you've had to stop yourself from bursting into laughter at inappropriate times.
Other times, you feel the need to scold him like a child. He's unhappy with you whenever you help or comfort others - namely, the tieflings you meet at the Emerald Grove. They're a lovely bunch of people, so you have no trouble helping out. Astarion whines and stomps his feet at that, complaining about why you would waste time caring for others. You're not sure why you need to explain to him that while yes, being nice to people makes you feel good and generally reduces the amount of awfulness in the world, people are also more inclined to assist you back once you've been kind to them.
Gods, he really is terribly clueless on how to build proper alliances or bonds beyond throwing his (admittedly very pretty) body at people. You feel sorry for him, that for how much he hypes himself up as some master manipulator, he really misses the most obvious path of them all.
There's one thought he has that shocks you straight out of your skin. It happens when you help Arabella get away from Kagha, who has a rat's nest of a mind all on her own, that you hear it.
'Of course, the first and only blasted time I meet a bleeding heart hero in two hundred years is when I'm already free.'
The thought chills you. It is tinged with sadness, with pain, with anger, twisting and roiling inside him, as if Astarion had wished you had met him much, much earlier in his unlife, if only to experience a speck of your kindness. You still haven't figured out what exactly Astarion has been through - you haven't dug deep enough. Eventhough he doesn't have gods or patrons blocking off his memories, you feel a different sort of blockade there. One that makes you understand that not even he himself wants to look at those memories. You get the feeling he's not ready to face the turmoil in his own mind yet - and cracking him open might expose him to it. You've no desire to fix his messes for him, so you leave him be.
He'll open up when he wants to. Which will probably be never, if his behavior is any indication.
You're surprised he's kept up with pretending he's just a normal mortal like the rest of you as well as he has. You can hear him talking himself through your nightly meals - Gale's cooking really is delectable, but Astarion may as well be gnawing at the burnt-out logs in your campfire. Every bite tastes dry and ashy to him, tasteless and horrible. It doesn't help that you know that Astarion usually excuses himself early to wretch up whatever he ate before he goes out hunting.
Astarion's restraint is hanging on by a thread. You see him hesitating for but a second anytime you come across some bandits or anyone else that seems...edible. Like he's contemplating blowing his cover just to finally get a proper meal in.
Not that his cover is particularly great. He talks about how much he likes his meat incredibly rare far too much for that.
It's not a moral code that keeps him at bay, you've learned. Any time he contemplates biting someone, you hear a voice in his head - and it's definitely not his own.
'Thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures.'
Astarion hears this sentence on a loop, increasing in intensity the closer he gets to biting anything sentient. His desire to obey it is wearing thin, however - he's so desperate for anything with sustenance, you estimate it'll only be a day or two until he slips up.
You had a long day today. You'd snooped through Kagha's mind, finding that she wasn't just planning of kicking the tieflings out to die, but was also planning to overthrow the whole damned Grove in Archdruid Halsin's absence - you plan to investigate that further, given the correspondences you've found in her things.
A cambion named Raphael ambushed you and tried to get you to sign some pact to get out of your tadpole situation. Fiendish minds are always a little tricky to read. You need to tread carefully, they can easily detect you, a lot of times, if they're not tieflings, they only think in Infernal, and somehow, reading a fiend's mind often leaves you feeling hot. Raphael appears to be like any other devil, ready to strike deals with those miserable enough to take them. You've no interest in taking him up on his offer.
And finally, you saved one of the tiefling children from being kidnapped by a bunch of harpies. It's been a turbulent day all around, and you're relieved to have finally made it back to camp, where Gale already has some delicious-smelling stew cooking.
Everyone's on edge. You've found no cure so far, every lead being a bust. You wish to seek out Auntie Ethel soon, perhaps after passing through the Blighted Village, because you don't want to leave any option uninvestigated - and because her mind was horrifying to you. She may have been nothing but sweet on the outside, but her thoughts were, as Astarion astutely put it, positively demented.
Lae'zel grows more agitated by the day, claiming you're all wasting time when what you really need is to be purified in the nearest Githyanki creche. She's been quite the headache for a while. You don't know why all of them have unanimously decided to make you their leader in all of this, but keeping this crew together can be a nightmare.
Gale hands you your dinner with a sympathetic look. You're aware that he's somewhat on to you and what you're doing, but he's been kind enough to keep your secret. It's an unspoken thing between the two of you - he's empathetic enough to understand that there has to be an underlying reason for you to be reading everybody's minds all the time, especially since you do it to just about anyone and leaves you be. He is, however, deeply concerned about you eventually getting exhausted and overloaded with the amount of minds you've been reading.
You're no stranger to sensory overload. You always teeter right on the edge of it, anyway, especially living in Baldur's Gate. There's even more minds to read through there that being on the road like this has given you a much-needed reprieve. You'd damn near forgotten what silence felt like. You almost dread going home, because you're sure it'll all be too much.
You collapse into your bedroll. Lae'zel's mind is the one you chose to be in tonight. Her soothingly repetitive thought process while she's sharpening her blades - though in an entirely foreign language - are comforting. Like white noise drowning everything else out.
Astarion is stalking about the campsite somewhere. The two of you have been getting along like a house on fire, your 'heroic' tendencies aside, so you'd definitely miss his presence and the fun flirtations between you if something decided to snatch him up. He's safe for now, though, and that's good enough for you.
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You're not sure when exactly your telepathy had started subconsciously activating in your sleep.
It must've been years, now. Perhaps it had been when you'd fallen asleep under the tree in your parents' garden while reading, the gentle Summer breeze having made you drowsy, and had awoken to the neighbour's son sliding his hands up your skirt, the laces of your blouse already undone, that it had become a habit.
You'd singed half his hair off in a panic. You remember your mother promised she'd do much worse to him when his parents threated consequences. Their family moved away rather quickly - and it was only afterwards that your mother taught you how to cast curses on people.
Ever since, your mind has started listening out for things approaching you while you sleep. People's intentions are clear in their head, especially when going after a seemingly unsuspecting victim.
It's why tonight, you hear him approach.
It's the damned sentence he hears anytime he wants to feed on a humanoid, loud and pulsing in his head. That alone is enough to somewhat rouse you, though you're not fully awake yet, eyes still shut.
'Will you shut up?!' You hear him scream in his head. 'She's right there, fast asleep. She'll never even know I was here, I just want a nibble, I'm so hungry, and gods, she smells so, so, good...'
Astarion kneels down beside you. He inhales deeply, as if sampling the aroma of a good wine.
'Fuck, she smells...delectable...'
It's not a thought someone about to dig in to a lavish meal would have. This isn't just about literal hunger.
It's desire.
He wants you. In more ways than one.
You hear him shift. He's hovering over you, now, telling himself he just wants a little bite. You figure you've entertained him enough, cutting in when you hear him think about just how close he is to grazing his fangs against your skin.
"Aren't you going to take me out to dinner first?"
Astarion flinches back like he's been struck. He scrambles away from you, standing up quickly as you follow him, getting on your feet yourself.
"I-it's not what it looks like!" He insists, raising his hands defense.
"It's not?" You tilt your head at him in feigned confusion. "Am I to believe you had something worse in mind that biting me in the neck? A sneaky dip between my legs, perhaps?"
"No! I just...I just needed, well. Blood."
"I gathered as much. Didn't think you'd slink on by just to have an odd suck on my neck."
Your nonchalance confuses him deeply. He expected a stake through the heart, not witty banter.
"How are you so calm about this?" He asks. He's not sure if you've got nerves of steel, or if you're downright mad.
"Please. You're not very subtle," you tell him. "You're pale as everything, you have incredibly obvious scarring around the neck, talk about raw meat more than is normal, and you don't enjoy food. I'm not sure if you can even taste it, but poor Gale's been testing out every flavour combination he can put together out here to find something you actually like. It wasn't hard to put two and two together, really."
No, he hadn't been able to taste any difference. Ash tastes like ash. Astarion still struggles to find words to say, so you continue on.
"I am, however, a little annoyed you would just go ahead and chomp on me in me sleep. You really don't have any manners, do you?" You cross your arms, give him a mock pout. "First, you greet me with a dagger instead of a 'hello', and now you want to bite me without asking. Bad little bloodsucker. I've half a mind to splash you with some holy water."
You don't know why, but the phrase 'bad little bloodsucker' does something to him. It's not a negative emotion, outright, but it's like a shiver passes through his mind, as if he's not sure if he despises it, or likes it.
"How was I supposed to know you wouldn't simply shove a stake between my ribs on the spot?" Astarion asks, incredulous. "People don't trust vampires."
"Maybe not, but aren't we all such good, trusting friends here?" Your tone is flat. You may find Astarion attractive, but you trust him about as far as you can throw him - which isn't very far unless you use a Thunderwave spell. "If I wanted to stake you, I'd have done it days ago. So, do you want to have a nibble, or not?"
Astarion blinks at you. "You're offering? Just like that?"
"Just like that," you say with a nod. "You're getting sloppy out there. Your movements are slower, heavier. I'd like you to be able to perform your best out there. You're clearly starving, and while I do have a softer heart than most, I can't afford carrying dead weight around."
"Ah. Yes, of course."
Astarion seems happy to have found a way to be useful to you. You're not sure you like that line of thinking, so you try to redirect him.
"Besides, it's just fair, really. We all get to stay full and fed, you deserve to eat your fill, too. So, go right ahead - but don't take more than you actually need."
His ears twitch in anticipation. "You have my word. Let's get comfortable then, shall we?"
Astarion helps you get settled on your bedroll again. His mind sings with excitement - he's happy that seducing you is far easier than he ever dreamed of.
You're happy to let him believe that. The poor thing seems in desperate need for some wins in life. Especially after you've heard him try to seduce his way into Shadowheart's good graces. She'd been quick to put him down, exposing him for practicing his flirtatious lines. You can throw him a bone for once.
Astarion traces his hand up the skin of your neck. His touch tingles pleasantly, and you turn your head to the side to give him better access. He smiles at the courtesy, before he grips your shoulders and goes for it.
His fangs pierce through your skin. The pain is sharp and icy, but it quickly fades to pure pleasure. Astarion moans against your neck as he gulps down your blood like a glutton. He's got you caged in underneath him, and swift as anything, he's got your thighs hooked around his legs.
He's hard. Desperately, painfully hard.
His length presses up against you, grinding into your hips. Any other time, you'd be ready to shove your dagger into your assailant's flesh, but Astarion has no intent of doing anything to you that you wouldn't want.
In fact, he seems genuinely worried that you don't seem receptive to this.
'What...why isn't she reacting?'
There's a storm raging in his mind right now. He's frustrated that his plan seemingly isn't working out the way he'd hoped. He's concerned that you're so frozen, that perhaps you're genuinely terrified of him - that'd not only put a wrench in his plans, but...
...but that'd mean you may not even like him.
That panicked stream of thought intrigues you the most. It's the part of his brain that you can always hear when he's particularly drawn to your scent, a feral part of his vampiric mind. You don't know much about vampires, but you do know their olfactory senses are much sharper than a mortal's, and you have caught Astarion trying to subtly sniff at you when you're out and about. You're not sure if vampires have bonding or...mating habits, but Astarion seems distraught that you, who smells so alarmingly irresistable to him, could possibly dislike him. He ruts against you, in hopes of drawing something, anything out of you.
'Did I misread all of this? Did I do something wrong? Does she not want me, after all, even with all this flirting between us?' Astarion laps at your neck, brows furrowed in a strange mixture of confusion and bliss. 'Her blood sings for me, it tastes excited, electrified...surely, she must be enjoying this. Right?'
Poor thing.
You were holding yourself back because you didn't want to give him his 'win' too easily, but with the way he's thinking himself into knots, it's hard not to feel just a little guilty for being so mean. The next time he grinds his hips into yours, you relent. It feels good to have him rut against you like this, and you let out a soft moan, careful not to wake the others.
Instantly, Astarion's mind clears, elated that he's managed to pull through. His thoughts take a heated turn, now, as you realize he wants nothing more than to devour you whole while impaling you on his cock. He wants your whimpers, your moans, your voice screaming his name in total ecstasy.
You'd like that. Fuck, you'd like that. But your devious little fantasies are disrupted by the feeling of surprise on his end, as if it's the first time in a while he actually enjoyed physical sensations like this.
You shake yourself out of your lightheaded stupor. Your vision's already gone spotty a few times.
"That's enough," you say, gently pushing up against his chest.
Astarion's too blissed out to notice. Another way, then.
"Astarion," you husk, reaching up to ghost your fingertips over his pointed ear. "That'll be enough for today."
The sensation of your touch is like a shock to his system. You feel his length twitch in excitement against you. Interesting, that something like that could dismantle him. But it is enough, and Astarion quickly draws back after licking your neck clean and sits on his haunches before you.
"Right. Of course."
You sit up as well, watching in fascination as your blood trickles down his chin.
"That was...amazing," he pants.
"I'm sure it was."
Neither of you mention that you're the first sentient creature he's ever fed on. You reach your hand up to his face.
"May I?" You ask. He nods, though he's not sure what exactly you have planned.
You wipe up the blood spilled on his face with your thumb.
"Are you always such a messy eater?" You question, a smile teasing at the corners of your lips.
You draw back to admire the wet, scarlet stains on your hand, and Astarion's eyes follow you curiously. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, clearly, he'd rather not waste any more of your delicious blood.
You have a better idea.
You stick your thumb in your mouth and lick up the blood yourself, your eyes never breaking contact with his.
Instantly, Astarion is on you again. He wrenches your hand from you and instead engulfs you in a searing kiss. His arms crush you to his form, squeezing the air from your lungs as he plunges his tongue into your mouth to lick up the remnants of your blood combined with your spittle. His mind is not forming words - all you hear is a high, desperate sound, and feel a burning need in his brain.
He stops himself from doing anything further, though you can tell it takes every ounce of self control he has not to just take you right here, out in the open. He tells himself that his behavior must be terribly strange to you, and that he should stop if he wants his plan to keep working.
"Apologies," he husks after breaking off the kiss. "I got swept up in the moment."
"No worries. How do you feel?"
"I feel...strong," he says, as if not sure how to put his emotions into words. "Happy."
You have to bite your tongue to not add 'horny' and 'feral' to that list. You're happy he feels better, though.
"That's good. I hope to see you fighting at your best tomorrow."
"You have my word."
Your blood is rushing through him. He looks refreshed, his cheeks seem less gaunt, and you swear you see the hints of a flush dust across his face and the tips of his ears.
Astarion bows his head at you. "Now, invigorating as you are, I'll be off to find something more filling. Sweet dreams, darling."
"Happy hunting, Astarion."
He stops before he leaves you entirely. "This is a gift, you know. I won't forget it."
He stalks off into the woods while you crawl back into your bedroll. He tries seeming confident as he steps away, but you know better. Once he believes he's out of earshot, he plops himself down against a tree and undoes his breeches.
You can still hear his thoughts all the way out there. Astarion imagines what he would have loved to do while he had you beneath him. He envisions himself tearing the laces of your slacks, ripping them down your delightful legs, and diving between your plush thighs for a taste. He imagines the way you would writhe under his tongue, how you would whine and moan, as he pumps his fist around his leaking cock.
You try to block him out. It's not working. His mind is too loud to do so, crying out for you. You reach out to the others' minds. They're all sound asleep - Astarion was meant to be on watch.
Fuck it.
You cut your losses and slide your hand between your legs. You're absolutely drenched with arousal - you'd liked his bite more than you'd ever openly admit. It's no hard feat to reach your peak, with Astarion's fantasy of pushing you facedown into your bedroll so he can mount you like a beast in heat so clear in your mind. You only curse that your telepathy won't let you see through his eyes - you'd need the tadpole for that and then he'd notice you were listening in.
Astarion has no idea that, the second he climaxes, spurts of his hot seed spilling over his hand as he cries out your name and a series of curses, you are tipping over the edge yourself. Your panties are ruined with your release as you come, his name whispered like a secret into your pillow.
XxxxX
@hyperfixationwhore
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ineadhyn · 27 days
Text
Playing Astarion good aligned and what that meant for his character - a completely unnecessary but fascinating analysis
So the idea was: entirely good aligned Astarion origin playthrough
However I can't just do that, it has to fit into his character somehow. It has to make sense to me, so I did analyze and justify and this is what I came up and how it is going:
Normally Astarion escapes Cazador gets tadpoled and is a menace, a violent bastard who lashes out, barely contains how hurt he is and tries to get people to like him the only way he knows: through sex.
What if Astarion is the main character? The leader? If he figures people would like him if he is good or at least pretends to be. He notices quickly that people approve of good deeds and oh, how good the praise and gratitude feels. So Astarion tries being good for a change. People are easy to believe he's genuine because they want him to be, especially good souls like Karlach.
He still hooks up with Lae'zel, but figures quickly that his body is far less powerful than his arrow in the right throat. It's not worth it getting on his back anymore. Also he has set his eyes on the wizard (Gale was very suppportive about Astarion's vampirism).
As Act one closes he is too deep into the being the good person to drop the act now. Halsin is with him and he would annihilate Astarion if he ever found out how much he actually loathes the tiefling party. No, he is in this now, he has to carry on.
Entering the Shadow Curse and meeting Jaheira he remembers his own hero: Drizzt do'Urden and, now expecting more great things from himself and having to live up to the expectations of others, he tries to become Drizzt. His most asked question to himself is: wwdd - what would Drizzt do? It becomes his compass for decision making.
Gale finds himself in love with Astarion and Astarion is very pleased about that, a bit of genuine softness feels nice and also, hello, there's delicious hunger for power hiding under these purple robes amongst other things.
Now we come to the core problem this version of Astarion has: His heroism is an act, a mask. He has picked it up so quickly he never had the chance to be terrible and start to heal. He is as full of fear as he was at the beginning of the game and desperate for protection. He's reaching for every straw that will give him an advantage not caring for himself in a healthy way. He's ready to make sacrifices. He bit Araj.
He encourages Gale to go for the crown. He even toyed with the tadpole's power. Not ready yet to give up his beauty and become half-illithid but maybe after the spawn attack he panics so much he'll consume it. (I wonder if Cazador reacts to that, seeing his spawn like that, his beauty ruined) What a powerful protection against being sexually abused again. Gale will still love him, no matter his appearance.
And most likely he will ascend and pretend it didn't affect him. He needs to keep the mask up, can't risk to fail against the Absolute and reveal the weak spawn he (thinks) he really is underneath it. He needs the praise to keep coming, he needs to protect himself and his lover and Gale needs to protect him. So ... god Gale is also very much possible.
I am now entering Act 3 and will keep this updated because it is an unusual but very fascinating path to me. Astarion, glowing on the outside, the hero of Baldur's Gate, the good vampire, the one people trust - but on the inside he's more rotten than ever, more afraid than ever. The only real thing about him is his relationship with Gale, he genuinely loves him, which sadly makes it worse for both of them.
Note that I do feel bad for him, but am too intrigued to stop.
Here he is, drizzting his way through my game. Nailing the hero pose, just as he nailed the smile when he lured a target:
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yandere-sins · 4 days
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i do love to see your view on shadowheart as a stalker. like i think she would really be trying her best to look normal meanwhile her brain is down BAD
I totally agree! She's just so well-adjusted to the role already without trying. Her name screams stalker yandere already, and I think the worst thing is her pining for her darling so massively that she doesn't realize how much it's changing her until it's already too late!
»»———————— ♡ ————————««
You get along with everyone, and it comes to a head at the tiefling/goblin party. You saved Shadowheart before, have shown her nothing but kindness and understanding even when she opened up about herself, and after traveling for days you have grown more comfortable around each other. So when you come to her—naturally, she's the first step on your journey around camp—Shadowheart invites you for a drink in private.
She's not sure what got into her (probably the wine), but you look so dashing, cleaned up, and grinning from the merry atmosphere. Hard times bring people together, but what she wants is a closeness that gives her goosebumps to think about. She really shouldn't. Every fiber of her being is trained not to want someone to get too close, yet she wants you. Wants you to know more than you should. Be vulnerable around you, even though she knows she probably can't.
Her inner conflict doesn't stop it from hurting like shit when you hesitate, smiling sheepishly before saying you'd rather hang out with everyone, but maybe later you can come over for a cup, or she could join the group. Shadowheart isn't sure she ever felt something as painful as your rejection. Whatever she wants from you, you don't want it.
Not yet, at least.
It's foolish and against everything she stands for. She wants to be tough and dutiful, deadly and unbothered by feelings of the heart. But she can't, not even in the days after the party. Because you are just so stunning, even bloody and sullied, still smiling like the sun even when you almost tumble off a cliff, thanking her profusely for saving you. Shadowheart wasn't trying to be helpful. She just happened to be there and grab you. Nothing more.
Certainly, she's not spending her days watching you. Always being together and traveling makes it hard to be a secretive stalker, and everyone in camp notices her constant and longing stares at your back—except you. Shadowheart picks up things too heavy for you to carry (before throwing them into Karlach's pouch) or is the first to volunteer to spend time with you gathering materials or combing through the loot. She's also the defacto map enthusiast ever since she met you, helping you read the map. Anyone else in the group could keep you guys on track, but she squeezes in between you and whoever is trying to get close to you. She's better at it than the others anyway. You should rely only on her.
Shadowheart is still telling herself it's all for the sake of getting rid of the tadpole.
She keeps you company in the evening, helps you repair equipment, and reads the books you two found, searching for hints on how to get rid of the brain worms. It's hard for Shadowheart to concentrate most nights, however, your expressions so amusing and delightful as you pick through languages you can barely read, misinterpreting them and getting offended. You even make her laugh with you, and you two bond over her translating the texts correctly for you.
Sometimes, your hands touch, or your knees bump into each other. Her heart makes a leap so far that she's afraid it might land in your lap. But you draw away before anything more can happen, and she feels emptier than ever as the awkwardness lays over you two.
She's not sure how to get closer to you. Shadowheart thought it would be enough to travel with you and spend some nights next to each other by the fire. But she's beginning to lose sleep over the thoughts of you—your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes shine—playing on repeat in her head. The feeling of warmth from your body from where you two touched and the way you clung to her when she saved you from a miscalculated jump are burned into her very soul.
Having to resort to unsavory things like stealing your shirts to sleep with and forcing interactions by giving you tasks to fulfill for her, knowing you won't say no, are all Shadowheart can do to keep you close to her and herself sane. She'd prefer a more natural relationship, but you are always hesitant to take it further for some reason. Even though she gives you the signs, you seem undecided. As if you had a choice. 
It makes her even more wary about the others traveling with you two.
Yet, if all she can be is your shadow, so be it. She doesn't mind trailing after you, always in reach but never close enough. It makes her bare her teeth towards anyone approaching you, the hairs on the back of her neck standing when someone dares to touch you, many, like Astarion, doing it just to taunt her. She's like the wolves she hates the most; hungry and territorial. Maybe she'll snap one day, and who knows what she'll do to you then.
But as long as you haven't rejected her completely, she'll be okay.
She'll be okay, she tells herself, even as she pins you to the ground, feeling completely mad with desire. But even with that tinge of fear and hurt in your eyes, you are still the most radiant and beautiful thing she's ever seen. You're her sun, and she can hardly stop herself from wanting to devour you so you may push away the dark shadows of obsession her heart harbors.
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queeronaquest · 1 month
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Ambivalent Blessings (Zevlor x AFAB Reader)
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TW: Pregnancy
Author's note: I have a lot of complicated feelings toward pregnancy in general, but I do think it's one of the coolest things a human body can do. I'm writing this with Tav as someone with AFAB anatomy, but no specified pronouns.
What happens when a certain commander gets an adventurer pregnant after a brief fling? We shall see~
(I know that there's nothing that definitively states how long in game events are, but I saw someone who mentioned Mayrina was pregnant in Act 1 and is close to her due date by Act 3 so I'm going kind of based off that. Vague time frame and suspension of disbelief, my lovelies.)
"Where is Zevlor?"
"Still in the caves."
"Alright. Thank you, Ikaron. I'll meet you all at the camp in a while. Just follow the others."
You circled around the grove toward the caves where Zevlor had set up for the duration that the tieflings' had taken refuge with the druids. Tilses turned toward the entrance as you slipped through, offering a knowing smile. You'd made no secret of your fondness for Zevlor, always ensuring you paid him a visit whenever returning to Arron for supplies. The only issue was that it seemed everyone but him knew of your affections.
"I'm heading out," she called. "I'll see you at the camp, Commander."
"Tilses," he sighed. "What have I told you about calling me tha- Oh, Tav. Is something the matter? I'm almost done here - just wanted to be sure I don't leave anything behind."
"No, nothing's wrong. I thought I might offer you some company."
His returning smile was endearing and weary.
"Your companionship is always welcome."
You hopped onto the stone table, legs dangling off the edge. He ambled about the room, tidying up as much as he could. When he'd tied his pack closed, he sighed, bracing his hands on the table beside you.
"If you would lend me your time and be my confidant for just a moment, I must confess that I am dreadfully tired. I know I must be strong for them, but I look forward to the day I can rest, no more battles to fight. I do hope that day comes."
You reached out to pat him comfortingly on the shoulder.
"It will. Give it time."
"I am grateful to you, you know. You've done so much for my people. I feel unnecessary now."
Your hand slid from his shoulder and across his chest. You gently turned his face toward yours. He sought your gaze, eyes softening on yours.
"Come now, Commander. You must know how much they rely on you."
His mouth twisted wryly, fighting a smile.
"Hearing you say it, I almost believe it."
His eyes flicked down to your lips as his body shifted closer to yours. He waited patiently to see if you would meet him in this unfamiliar territory. When your lips brushed lightly against his, he shuddered. He held achingly still, his kisses soft and hesitant. You nipped lightly at his lip, enjoying the light tremor that ran through him. He stepped boldly between your legs, his hands guiding your knees open wider.
The soft sounds of your kissing were quickly smothered by the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. You broke for air, cheek pressing to the side of his neck before pressing gentle kisses above his collar. His hands moved to your hips so he could tug you to the edge of the table and flush against him. Chills ran down your arms as his circled you, holding you to his chest.
When your face tipped up toward his, his lips covered yours, hungry. He kissed you desperately, seeking the connection that had grown between you, too afraid to speak and disrupt the moment. As your hands fumbled for the ties of his armor, he broke away with a gasp.
"Wait. The - the others will be waiting for us."
You smiled at him, gently nudging your nose against his cheek.
"Tilses will take care of it. They won't miss us."
"Tilses? How will she - have I truly been so blind as to what is right in front of me?"
You burst into laughter as he hid his flushed cheeks by hiding his face in your neck where he promptly began lavishing light kisses across your skin.
"Forgive me, Tav. I have been such a fool. Until today I did not imagine you coming to see me as anything other than simple kindness."
"Kindness, yes. But more… if you'll have me," you offered hopefully.
He looked stricken, his words gathering slowly.
"I can make no promises. My first duty is to my people. I know you have other priorities as well. I do not know where we will find ourselves when this is all over."
You held him close, your legs tightening around his hips.
"Just for now, then?"
"It has been so long, I - I feel as if I have forgotten how."
"Allow me to remind you, then."
"We do not have much time," he groaned as your palm pressed against his groin.
"You best move swiftly, Commander."
He gave you a reproachful look, but his eyes were full of mirth as he hastily undid the ties at his waist and allowed you to shove the chain mail down his legs. He kissed you sloppily as he removed his belt, parting the armor that hung around his waist.
"I apologize that I cannot remove the rest in a timely manner," he uttered against your cheek.
"No matter. I'm utterly enticed by the sight."
"Quite audacious, aren't you?"
Your only reply was to pull his mouth back to yours. You continued kissing him as you unbelted your own robes, shucked off your boots and wiggled free of your leggings with his help. He gathered you to his chest, his kisses burning hotter each moment. The feel of him in your hand was divine, his grunts as you stroked him even more so. After guiding him to your entrance, the head of his cock was inside you with a single quick thrust of his hips.
His groan reverberated against your clavicle where his face had fallen. He quickly adjusted you, keeping you at the edge and laying you back on the slab of stone. He hitched your legs tighter around his waist and slowly sank into your heat. Your head fell back as you breathed through the stretch. Your body welcomed his with ease, hips beginning to roll against his. A growl rumbled in his chest, startling you.
"Do not move in such a way. I fear I will not last."
"You've waited this long. You can wait a bit longer."
He thrusted sharply into you and kissed under your jaw.
"I did not expect that you would be so wicked, teasing and tempting me like this."
"Are you admitting you've been thinking about me, Commander?"
"Zevlor, please."
"Zevlor," you murmured.
He twitched inside you, a shuddering breath wracking his body. He pulled out nearly all the way, a whine slipping from your lips before you felt his hips return to yours. Your arms wound around his neck, your moans now muffled by his kisses as he continued to rock into you. His palms were flat on either side of you, arms quivering as you began to clench around him.
It had been too long since he'd had the comforting touch of another and now that he was experiencing you so fully, he could barely restrain himself. He vowed to remember this moment for as long as he should live, the two of you finding each other in the chaos and holding on for dear life.
He began to move in and out at a steady pace, his groans now surrounding you, and you marveled at how quickly you'd opened to each other, how quickly you’d become tangled up in his heated embrace. His breaths grew more hoarse and a new level of desire began to build within you.
When his cock began to pulse, he pulled out, turned to the side and came on the ground, legs shaking all the while. He did not leave you for long, tugging the chain mail leggings back up and tying them before he knelt between your thighs. His tongue was quick to overwhelm you, his groans vibrating against your clit as your hands wrapped around his horns and pulled him ever closer.
~~~
You returned to camp together, more than a few pairs of eyes alighting on your forms with a knowing glint. He stroked a hand down your lower back before stepping fully into the light and going to stand at Halsin's side. You made rounds throughout the camp to greet the tieflings and ensure they felt welcome for the night. The camp members you left until last, knowing their eyes would have seen too much, perhaps more than you were ready to share.
Shadowheart swirled her wine and grinned as you approached.
"Good for you, Tav," she teased.
You began to turn on your heel before her hand reached out to wrap around your elbow and pull you back.
"I'm only winding you up, come here."
She handed you a wine glass and clinked her cup against yours.
"You did well. I didn't expect to care so much for these people we barely know, but... I do. And you helped me see that. Thank you."
You glanced shyly at the ground and stepped from foot to foot.
"Embarrassed are you? As am I," she said before taking a full swig of her wine. "Off with you. Everyone wants a moment with you."
You spent the rest of the evening checking in on your companions who promptly teased you about Zevlor in their own ways. As you went on, your irritation and embarrassment slowly slipped away, the wine doing its job. Perhaps it was also because you'd finally found somewhere that you fit - found people that you might call family.
Halsin's smile as you approached was kind and warm. Zevlor watched curiously from where he was perched on a crate nearby. Your lips pursed as you tried to work up the courage to speak to the towering druid. It's just sex. Normal. Part of life. No big deal.
"Halsin, could I speak with you?"
"Of course," his smile softened. "Whatever you require I will do my best to provide."
His response and easy demeanor instantly comforted you and you began to smile in return, noting the miffed expression on Zevlor's face as he watched you on your way to becoming a bumbling mess under Halsin's direct attention. You twisted toward him and gave a quick wink, setting the tiefling's heart alight. He chided himself for his jealousy and admired the way the campfire light danced along your skin. Halsin noted the interaction, his brow lifting as he smiled wider at you.
"I assume it's alright if Zevlor overhears what you wish to speak of."
You nodded and pulled out the journal you'd been keeping in your pocket on your journey and flipped to the page at the back.
"Do you have these herbs or know where I may collect them? I want to make them into a tea to... erm... prevent certain consequences."
Zevlor was surprised at how deeply his cheeks burned, matching the heat within your own. Under Halsin's instruction, you set to work, off to gather herbs and make the tea to drink that very night.
~~~
It was bittersweet the morning after the tiefling party. You'd woken early enough to wish them farewell with Zevlor pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before he led them away. The day before had held many memories you'd treasure for the days to come, knowing they would see you through.
Returning to the goblin camp had been an experience to say the least. While Astarion had poisoned the goblins' drink, not all had partaken of it. After dispatching the enemies that were waiting, you hunted for the entrance to the Underdark that Halsin had spoken of.
Your hands shook as you climbed down the seemingly never-ending ladder, nearly collapsing in relief once you got to the bottom. The next few weeks were spent exploring the Underdark, being surprised by too many enemies, and freeing the deep gnomes from their duergar slavers.
An exhaustion began to creep over you. So much had happened so far and still, there was more to go. After defeating the guardian of the Grymforge, your party had decided to return to the surface. You and the others desperately craved the sun and after all, you had promised Lae'zel to go to the Crèche when she'd heard her kin were spotted near the mountain pass.
It took longer than expected to make your way through the monastery the githyanki had taken over, especially after you denied Vlaakith the death she demanded of you. It was clear that Lae'zel did not fully understand why her people had turned against her even after she shared your thoughts, but Voss' visit had solidified what you'd shown her and given her much to think about.
~~~
The Shadowlands were full of monsters. Everywhere you turned, there was someone, something coming after you. You longed and prayed for a day when your biggest problem was what to eat for the day. Thankfully Gale had that covered most days. Lately, however, nothing sounded appetizing. Your meals consisted of bread and fruit as everything else was making you nauseous.
You knew the stress would catch up with your body eventually, but you'd hoped to put it off for longer. You began tiring more easily, attributing it to the accumulated stress and lack of sunlight in these barren lands. The others were worried for you but of course everyone had their own demons to contend with, literally and figuratively, leaving minimal energy to continually check in with you.
One night a wave of nausea coursed through you, sending you stumbling to the edge of the trees where you began retching. Halsin hurried over to you, having followed behind you, worry creasing his face. He placed a soothing hand on your back, staying by your side.
An unfamiliar tugging occurred at that moment in your lower abdomen. Were it not for the barrage of symptoms you were currently experiencing, you would have paid it no mind but a panic overtook you. You did a quick calculation in your mind of when your last cycle had occurred and the horrifying answer presented itself with undeniable clarity.
You looked up to Halsin, hand clutching your lower belly and ground out a single word.
"Fuck."
***
Taglist:
@capbrie @justlilpeaches21 @im-eating-rn
*if you don't want to be tagged in future parts, let me know & if you do, let me know as well. <3
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parkkiablah · 5 months
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odd request but could you do a zevlor x human reader (age gap? i think YES)
in which hes a little insecure about the reader not wanting to be seen with a tiefling/knowing his species is despised and being afraid you‘ll hate him after people start to treat you differently for your relationship to him
then maybe comforting him and assuring him he deserves all the love <333
Judgement (Zevlor x human reader)
(Thank you so much for your request! I hope you like it and enjoy reading 🧡)
When you woke up that morning you already felt something was missing before you even opened your eyes. The bed was unusually cold and there was no tail wrapped around your leg.
Opening your eyes and pushing your legs out of bed you got up, rubbing your hands over your face to get the tired feeling off of you. When you walked out of the bedroom you noticed him putting on his shoes, his bag with him he was obviously leaving to somewhere.
"Where are you going?", you asked. Your voice still tired from just waking up, your hair probably a mess and most of your clothes still gathering on the floor somewhere in your bedroom.
"I just wanted to buy something for breakfast, but the plan was to be back before you wake up.", he said smiling and walked over to you. His hand moved to rest on your waist, his lips finding yours.
"Let me join you, I'll just get dressed.", you said and quickly searched for your clothes.
He leaned against the door frame waiting for you until you were dressed, smile on his face while he watched you.
Once you were done you stood before him, taking his hand.
"Lets go."
Hand in hand you walked towards the stores, enjoying the feel of palms pressing against each other, both a smile on your face.
Thats until an old woman in front of you dropped her bag when she saw you two. Zevlor reached to pick it up instantly, offering help whenever he got the chance to, when she suddenly started screaming.
"Get your hands off my bag, devil!", she screamed. "And you better get your hand off of them too! You should be ashamed, obviously manipulating someone so much younger to be with you!"
She pulled on your arm, Zevlor's hand instantly fell from yours and you looked at him in shock. He was too stunned to even say something, to even move.
You freed your arm from her grip, moving closer to Zevlor again.
"He is no devil and I assure you he did not manipulate me. You should know better than to judge so easily.", you shouted angrily, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along.
He followed you but he seemed so deep in thought you weren't sure if he lost his mind on the way.
When you got back home and the door closed behind you was when he finally did speak up.
"We should end this.", he said, looking at the floor with no emotion showing on his face. His face was blank and you just wished to be able to look into his mind.
"What?"
You looked at him in disbelieve. Was he really considering ending your relationship just over some strange woman?
"She wasn't wrong. I am a tiefling, no human and I am much older than you are."
"I am aware, so why do you want to end this?", you asked him.
You knew who he was and that was exactly who you fell in love with.
"You should not be seen with someone like me."
"Oh, you mean someone caring and gorgeous and reliable and strong..-"
"No, I mean someone old and with horns, tail and claws. Someone who you will be judged for.", he said as he has turned his back to you.
"You know, you see the problem while I see the solution it offers as well. Tieflings live longer than humans do, so the problem you have with our age difference just solved itself.", you walked closer to him, your hand reaching for his shoulder, trying to offer some comfort to him.
"It doesn't change the judgement you will face because of me.", he turned just enough to look at you, his face showing how conflicted he felt. He wanted to be with you but he didn't want to bring you down. He didn't want people to look down at you for being with him.
"I don't care for people's judgement. I'd rather be by your side and get judged then be by anyone elses side."
"You don't know how it is to be constantly judged wherever you go and whatever you do."
"You are right, I don't know how it is. But I don't want you to face it alone anymore."
His eyes found yours, affection showing through and yet he was still hesitant.
"I know you always want the best for me, but I assure you that you are who I want to be with. You are the best for me and I would rather be judged for who I love, than act like I love someone else just to please other peoples views.", you told him. Your hand moved to the side of his face, gently caressing his cheek.
"You are choosing a life with people staring at you and whispering behind your back. They will treat you very differently just for your hand in mine. Is that really what you wish for?", he asked you, his face concerned.
"You are all I ever wished for and if being judged is the price for it, I will gladly pay it."
"Gods, you don't know what you are getting into.", he said, his hand resting above yours on his cheek.
"I don't need to know, all that matters is that we go through this together. You deserve to be loved and I don't mind our differences. Our hearts beat the same rhythm and thats all that I need."
Your hand rests on his chest and you stand on your tiptoes to push your lips onto his.
He instantly melts under your touch, lips softly pressing against yours, his hand moving around your waist to hold you close.
"Thank you.", he said once you broke the kiss.
"For what?", you asked. Both of your hands rested on his shoulders.
"For reassuring me."
"Nothing to thank me for. I will reassure you as many times as you need me to.", you said smiling. "And you know I can be very stubborn."
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momolady · 2 years
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Avi the Tiefling
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Do you like modern monsters? Do you enjoy reading the childhood friends to lovers trope? Do you like good banter? Maybe do you often enjoy a red skinned tiefling? Well lucky you, this is the perfect story to enjoy during these hard times.
Female Reader x Male Monster ====================================
During high school you had to transfer due to your mother’s job. It was hard; you went from having a really close friend circle to having no one at all. You were a wallflower, a silent onlooker to everything happening in that new and strange land. You tried to make friends but it was awkward. You were pretty smart and a rumor got started that you’d do people’s homework for them. You got absorbed into a rather strange clique, made of some of the popular kids at school who were on the mean side. You were lonely and afraid so you sort of just fell into it.
Midway through this new school year you were at a breaking point. This supposed friend group of yours was taking advantage of your kindness, but you had been too afraid to step in and do anything about it. One day, you had broken down in one of the bathrooms, unaware that someone was hiding in one of the stalls behind you. You sobbed and cried, vented your frustrations to the terrified girl in the mirror, and left.
Later that same afternoon, as you were having lunch with your group, this tiefling appeared. You knew about him and heard rumors spread about him. His name was Avi and he had a reputation of being a wild animal.
He had messy, short black hair with two different shaped horns. One was corkscrew and straight up, the other curved outwards. He had deep burgundy skin with dark freckles along his cheeks and shoulders, but it was his eyes that were strange. They were wide almond shapes that always seemed on high alert. They gazed at you, making you shake to your core. They reminded you of a wild animal. He approached the table and sat down right next to you, shoving someone else out of the way.
“So, I heard you are a real smarty pants.” he grinned at you, leaning over across the table to block the others from you. “What sort of material are those kinds of pants made out of eh?”
“I uh-” You answered shakily. “I don’t know?”
Avi laughed, almost sounding maniacal. “It’s a joke, smarty pants. Get with it!” He slapped your back and inched in a bit closer. “So tell me, whatcha eating there?” He went on like this until lunch was over.
After that, he started appearing wherever you were, hanging around you, talking to you. He found the strangest reasons to talk to you. Whether it was about video games or cartoons, he always seemed excited to bring something up.
One of the guys of your ‘Friend group’ told him to “Fuck off, weirdo,”
The look in Avi’s eyes changed. They had always seemed wide and strange, but now they looked vicious. He snapped his neck around to look at the guy. “What’d you say?”
“I said, fuck off. You fucking weirdo.”
“How come?” Avi stepped away from you. “What’s it matter to you?”
The guy smirked back at his friends, you knew he was eager to push Avi around. “That’s our nerd. Get your own.”
Avi popped his neck and scoffed. “Oh I see. My mistake. I thought she was just some cute girl up for grabs. I didn't realize she was a nerd.”
Your guts churned but you remained silent. You ducked your head down, your eyes already brimming with tears.
Avi got up into the guy's face and grinned. “How about we fight over her.”
“What?” the guy huffed and others from the group began to join.
Avi’s grin grew and his eyes got wider. “You heard me. I’ll fight you for her. Unless, that is, you wanna just hand her off to me. It might be safer that way.” He tilted his head and popped his neck again.
“Just fuck off, you freak!” Avi was shoved back, but that didn’t bother him at all. Avi struck, clocking the guy in the jaw and starting a fight. Both were suspended for a week, but your friend group began avoiding you to get away from him.
“It’ll be okay,” Avi said one day. His face was bruised from the fight. There was even a cut along his forehead that would leave a scar. “I’ll take care of you, smarty pants.”
Something about this feral cat didn’t seem so feral anymore. “What do you mean?” You asked.
Avi looked at you with those strange eyes of his and he grinned. “What do you think it means?”
You sniffled and looked down at the floor. “Why’d you do that?”
“The fight? Isn’t it obvious?” Avi tilted his head to the side. “You were miserable, so it was worth it.”
You rubbed your eyes. “What?”
Avi shrugged as he folded a piece of paper this way and that. “That day you were crying in the bathroom, I was hiding in one of the stalls.”
“That was the girl’s bathroom!”
Avi shrugged. “Yeah, and?” He smirked at you. He inched in close and put his arm around you. “You ain’t got a thing to worry about, smarty pants. From now on, I’ll keep you safe. No one will use you like that again while I’m around.”
You ducked your head down and nodded. It felt nice to hear someone say they’d protect you. After how long, you felt so lonely and afraid in a crowd.
Ever since that day, he’s kept that promise. He became your best friend and was always by your side. Despite his reputation, he was really sweet and fun. He brought you out of your shell.
The two of you now share an apartment together, which you have done since college. Back then, Avi worked as a mechanic in order to pay for an apartment while you went to school. You’ve been working hard to pay back his kindness since then.
“Hey, smarty pants.” You looked up from your book to see Avi looking over the top of the chair at you. “What are you doing?”
“Reading, why?” You placed a bookmark into the seam and closed the book. “Are you bored or something?”
Avi smirked, “or something.”
You smirked and set your book aside, standing up as Avi stepped aside. “Well, what did you have in mind?”
Avi rubbed his hands together as his grin grew. “I was thinking we could go out for a bit. Just drive a little, maybe do some shopping. I just wanna get out for a little bit. We haven’t gone on one of our drives in a long time.”
“That could be fun. I was thinking we’d have a nice quiet day at home, but I suppose we can do that anytime.” You looked him up and down. “Is there something you’re wanting to do?”
Avi’s cheeks darkened. “No. I just wanted to hang out with you is all.”
You smiled at him. “Aww, well aren’t you cute?”
Avi glanced away, his smirk softening at the edges. “I have my moments, pants.”
You took hold of his hand and kissed his cheek. “Okay, let me get ready and we can head out.”
Avi grinned, tightening his hold on your hand. “Will you wear that cute red top I like?” His free hand tugged at the hem of your tee shirt.
You arched a brow. “You want me to look good for you?”
“Not that you don’t all the time, I just thought...I’d wear those pants you like on me!” Avi was blushing and floundering. It was so cute you could barely stand it. You kissed his cheek, standing on tiptoes to reach.
“I love you,” you murmured to him.
Avi sighed and relaxed. “I love you too.”
You got dressed and wore the red top he liked. It had a low cut neckline with criss crossed strands across the chest. Avi wore the pants you liked on him. He had such nice, long legs, and these pants really showed that off, including his small, cute butt.
“So, which way are we going?” You asked him.
“I dunno, let's find out.” You got into the car, which was an old model that Avi had completely rebuilt himself. Back during school he had started working on it, and the first time he drove it was when he picked you up for prom. He’d worked on it since then, making it something really nice and special.
That prom you had agreed to go together as friends, but before the night was over you and Avi were much more than that. You danced together, you left before prom was over, and drove all night until you passed out in the backseat.
“It’s such a nice day, it seems like a shame to just sit inside.” Avi looked so proud behind the wheel.
“You’re right, what was I thinking?” You chuckled. You placed your hand on his thigh, slowly rubbing up and down. Avi flinched and glanced at you from the corner of his eye.
“Whatcha doing, pants? Looking for quarters?”
You shrugged, slowly moving your hand further in. “What? You think I’m doing something?”
Avi looked down at his lap then back out at the road. “You’re up to no good. No good I tell ya.”
You scooted closer to him. “What, me?”
Avi bit his lip, trying to keep his focus on the road. His hips wiggled as your hand squeezed onto his thigh. He moaned softly in the back of his throat as your fingers kneaded into him. You kissed his neck slowly, feeling him tremble under your touch. Avi chuckled, turning to steal a quick kiss.
“When you said a cozy day at home, I thought you meant something else.” Avi rolled his hips, adjusting them to accommodate your advances.
You ran your fingers along the growing bulge in his pants. “I like you, what can I say?” You unzipped his pants. “Sometimes I just can’t keep my hands off you.”
Avi chewed on his bottom lip as you grabbed him through the fabric of his underwear. “Dammit, pants.”
You kissed his jaw and giggled. “What? No good?”
Avi’s wild eyes looked soft and sweet. People often said he had crazy eyes, but you knew what a kitten he really was. “Too good. You make me happy and horny. That’s dangerous.”
“You know exactly what to say.” You tugged down his underwear, pulling his cock out. You licked your palm and wrapped your fingers around him, jerking him gently as he continued to drive. His cock had this wonderful curve to it, and the glans were nice and wide at the top. You smiled sweetly at him as you stroked him, his pulse throbbing against your fingers.
“Whatcha thinking?” Avi moaned.
“Oh, I dunno.” You glanced down to his cock. “Lots of things.”
Avi swallowed. “I’d like to know, pants. Tell me.”
You bit your lip. “Well, for one, I think you’re very sexy right now. Also thinking about how much I want to make you come.”
Avi whistled. “You’re so sweet to think of me.”
You kissed his cheek then ducked your head down. You kissed his cock from head to base, dragging your tongue back up and he moaned. He put a hand on the back of your neck, kneading as you teased him.
“Ah! Fuck-” Avi snarled. “That’s my pants.”
You tease the tip with your tongue then pushed the tip between your lips. You sucked and slurped, tasting that first dribble of precum. You moaned against him, taking more of him into your mouth. Avi hissed, gripping his fingers around your neck tighter.
You bobbed your head slowly, taking your time with him. He throbbed against your tongue and you took the tip all the way to your throat. You choked, pulling up and slurping spit back into your mouth.
“You feel so good,” Avi pants.
You chuckled, stroking him as you leaned in to kiss him. “So do you, big boy.” You went back down, gobbling him up again. Avi’s moans and grunts filled your ears and you felt him make a sharp turn. Moments later, he pulled off the road and parked the car behind some trees.
You giggled as you lifted your head. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
“I ain’t a young man anymore, I can’t focus when you do that to me.” He kissed you hungrily, rolling his tongue around in your mouth. He bit your neck and shoulder as his hand reached up under your shirt and unhooked your bra with ease.
“You could have fooled me, you’re acting like you did in high school.” You took off your bra and tossed it into the backseat.
“I didn’t know what I was doing in high school,” Avi’s long tail flicked behind him. He pushed his hair back from his face and looked down at your shirt. “That’s what makes this so much better.” He tugged the neckline of your shirt down so your breasts were exposed.
“Is this why you like this shirt?”
“Same reason you like my pants so much, pants.” He kicked off his pants entirely. “Now, take yours off.”
You lifted your hips and wiggled from your pants, tossing them to the floorboard. Avi pressed your back against the door and thrust his hand down inside your panties. He kissed you hard as his fingers found you wet and warm.
“Oh fuck, pants. Did sucking that cock turn you on this much?” He teased you.
You scoffed and tangled your fingers into his messy hair. “It always does.” You had grown a favor for it during college. Avi worked to afford the apartment while you went to school. You had started giving him blowjobs regularly as a way to thank him. To your surprise and his pleasure, you found a talent for it. Not to mention a deep appreciation for it. Who knew the shy wallflower would turn into this?
Avi kissed you so sweetly it almost took your breath away. “What was that?” You murmured.
“Thank you for loving a weirdo like me,” he murmured. “I know I’m not much to look at, and you’ve put up with me all these years. It still amazes me that you and I are like this.”
You kissed him again and wrapped your arms around him. “You’re what I want to look at. You’re my weirdo, always have been, always will be.” Your heart was beating so fast. “I love you, get over it.” You pushed him down onto the bench seat and climbed on top of him. His eyes grew wide in awe as he looked up at you.
“Oh my, pants, what are you going to do to me?” He tittered.
You smirked, easing down on top of him. You took his cock inside, both of you moaning as he went inside deep. That wonderful curve hit exactly where you needed it to and you threw your head back as you rode him. His hands wrapped around your hips, holding you tight as you moved. His tail curled up around your leg and was pulsing squeezes. His expression was pure bliss, lips parted, eyes focused upon you. His breath synched in rhythm with your movements, gasping and panting with each heavy thrust.
You pressed your hands to the roof of the car for more leverage, thrusting down upon him as that curve ground into you. You cried out, panting hard as cars drove by on the road. Maybe they could see you, maybe not.
“I’m gonna come!” Avi whimpered. “Oh fuck, oh fuck-”
You bent down, kissing him and biting his lip. He thrust upwards, slapping hard into your thighs. He snarled and moaned into your ear, making desperate sounds as his climax grew closer.
“I’m gonna come! I’m gonna come!” He repeated over and over into your ear.
You kissed him, moaning against his lips. “Right there! Right there! Oh fuck!” You cried out.
Avi flipped you over, hiking up your hips and entering you from behind, he went harder and faster this way, pressing himself deep inside you. You moaned into the seat, shaking as you felt yourself draw to the end.
“I’m coming I’m-” Avi’s voice choked off, his body twitched, his tail coiled tighter on your leg. He spasmed inside and your legs twitched. You stretched and kicked, crying out as the heat from him flowed into you. Your body arched and you struggled to keep your voice in check. Avi panted, slowly slouching down until he was laid right on top of you.
“That was so damned good,” he breathed.
You chuckled and rolled over. His face planted between your breasts. “That was. I still can’t feel my toes.”
Avi kissed you then glanced out the windows. “We should probably get out of here before this seems suspicious.” He tugged down his shirt. “Where’d my undies go.”
“Good question, what’d you do with mine.” You then flinched as you felt his come dripping down your thigh. “Do you mind cleaning up your mess?”
Avi chuckled, taking a napkin from the dashboard and wiping you up as you grabbed clothes from the back seat. “I really did leave a mess behind.” He kissed your ass then slipped his fingers up inside you. “A big mess.”
“Easy there,” you huffed. “I’m still-” You bit your lip, struggling as Avi continued to finger you. “Oh fuck!”
“I knew you had another one in there.” Avi moved his fingers inside you, his thumb caressing your clit.
“Fuck, fuck-” You cried out, trembling as another small climax pulsed through your body.
Avi chuckled in triumph, leaning down to lick you clean. His moans against your folds sent tremors through your spine. You could barely sit up straight after that.
Avi put his pants back on while you still held yours in your hand. “Let’s go on down a little ways and find a nice place to eat.”
“I wouldn’t mind a drink,” you said with a gulp.
Avi smiled dreamily at you. “I love you, pants.”
You leaned into his side, snuggling up to him on the seat. “I love you too.”
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commander-krios · 1 month
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Get to Know Your Tav!
I was tagged by @charmedslytherin and @my-favourite-zhent, thank you, my friends!
Tagging: @starknstarwars, @eluvisen, @cr-noble-writes, @antivanbrandy, @thegoblinwitchqueen and @jbnonsensework
Juniper
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What is your tav’s….
favorite weapon?
Her words. She's witty, sarcastic, quick with her words and most people are more afraid of what she'll say than what she'll actually do. Her ability to talk herself out of trouble is her best and most useful weapon.
style of combat?
Juniper is a mix of a wild magic sorcerer and a bard. She uses her lute to help focus her magic but it doesn't always work and the wild magic surges are usually not hurtful, but more annoying than anything else. Sometimes, they come in handy. But mostly, she uses spells.
most prized possession?
Her lute. It was a gift from her father after she left bard school, and it goes with her everywhere. It also has her second most prized possession too: A brooch made by Dammon given to her by Rolan with a warding spell on it. She has the brooch inlaid into her lute's fretboard so she can keep both close to her.
deepest desire?
To find a place where she belongs. She grew up in Neverwinter, had a loving family, but she's always been an outsider in many circles, mostly because of her and her mother's reputation for being wild magic sorcerers. But she finds that in Baldur's Gate, with her friends and Rolan.
guilty pleasure?
Romance novels. She keeps a collection of them in her room in Ramazith's Tower, Cal borrows them frequently. (So does Rolan, but he'd never admit that).
best-kept secret?
The origin of how tiefling entered her family. Her mother's grandfather, a high ranking human who lived in Daggerford, made a deal with Raphael to bring magic (which had been lost decades ago) back to his family. He wanted power, he didn't care how to get it. When his granddaughter, Elara, was born, she was born with great powers but she was also born as a tiefling. No one knows the truth about this besides Elara, her immediate family, and Juniper.
greatest strength?
Her compassion. Many people wouldn't think that was a strength, but she loves people, loves life, and is willing to make sure everyone has the means to achieve their goals. She goes out of her way to help people, to make them feel good and happy and loved.
fatal flaw?
Also her compassion. Sometimes, people take advantage of it. Sometimes, it gets her into trouble that she has to fight out of. But she refuses to change because of it.
favorite smell?
Lilacs. They were her favorite flowers in Neverwinter and Rolan tries to find the flowers or even perfumes with the scent for her as gifts.
favorite spell or cantrip?
Vicious Mockery
pet peeve?
People interrupting her or someone else who is talking.
bad habit?
She tends to turn herself into a cat (or set herself on fire) quite a bit. She doesn't mean it, it's just something that happens thanks to her magic.
hidden talent?
She can also cook. Her father taught her many amazing recipes, her best being his sweet rolls with simple syrup.
leisure activity?
Reading. It's her favorite thing to do when not working and she'll sit around for hours reading if she's found a particularly excellent book.
favorite drink?
Wine made from flowers and berries. She doesn't drink often but it's one of the only indulgences she splurges on.
comfort food?
Sweet rolls with simple syrup. It reminds her of home.
favorite person(s)?
She has many favorite people. Obviously her father, Feanor, is one of her top favorites. He always provided for her, loved her, helped her find her love of music.
Rolan. She loves him more than she's ever loved anyone before and while she drives him insane, he can't help but enjoy it.
Karlach, her bestie, her sister, her favorite friend.
Cal, Lia, Lakrissa, Alfira, and the rest of the tieflings. They become her family in Baldur's Gate.
The tiefling kids, particularly Ide, Mirkon, Matthis, Silfy, and Arabella.
favored display of affection (platonic and/or romantic)?
Hugs, hand holding, kissing (on cheek for platonic, lips for romantic).
If you're her significant other, she'll lean on you, brush her hands along your shoulders, lips linger on your cheek, fingers play with your hair.
fondest childhood memory?
Waking up early in her home in Neverwinter to the smell of hot tea and warm sweet rolls, sitting in front of the fire while a snowstorm rages outside, listening to her father play the flute.
free-response! Is there anything else about your Tav you'd like to share?
Juniper is chaotic, but well intentioned. She loves life and is willing to make everyone happy, even at the expense of herself (much to Rolan's grumbling)
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oceanmusings · 4 months
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Kiss It Better
Pairing | Shadowheart x Prisma
Content Warning | some spoilers to Shadowheart story (act 2? I can't remember when the source of her pain is revealed.) Prisma wants to comfort her lover. She also confesses her love to Shadowheart. I didn't plan on it, but Prisma wanted it to happen. This is Fluff/Comfort really.
Word Count | 1.2K
Summary | Prisma knows Shadowheart feels these pains in her hand and she would rather all of them ignore it, but Prisma can't help but want to comfort the half-elf she cares for. Especially after she just confessed her love.
Masterlist
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The first time it happened was at The Emerald Grove, standing in the Druid Quarters as Prisma convinced Kagha to let the little Tiefling child go. It was common for children to steal - even ritual artifacts - but they were children and given the option to grow and learn from their mistakes. The wood-elf watched the little girl run out of the quarters before Prisma’s eyes darted to her new dark haired companion yelp out in pain, clutching her hand. She raised an eyebrow to her, curious what had happened. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, it’s just an old wound that hurts me from time to time. Nothing to be concerned about.” Shadowheart assured her as she rubbed the hand. Prisma finally noticed the black spot on the back of her hand. “It’s just something… I have to live with.”
“Dose it hurt?” Prisma asks, then immediately cringes as she realizes how stupid of a question that was. The woman just yelped out in pain, of course it hurts. “Sorry- that was a stupid question.”
“It’s okay.” Shadowheart muttered. “It hurts quite a lot, but it passes quickly. So I can manage.”
Prisma left it at that, but the more it happened, the more it pained Prisma to watch each flinch and yelp. Sometimes when she would smile at Prisma, her hand would flash and the smile would drop. A pit quickly developed in Prisma’s stomach, she wanted to make it better, especially when she was the source of making Shadowheart smile or laugh. The reveal of it being the act of her goddess Shar as a motive of punishment fueled that pit in Prisma’s stomach. She realized she wanted to make Shadowheart happy, to be the source of her smile, but without any involvement from Shar. Anytime it would happen too Shadowheart would request they ignore it, it moved on quickly and she didn’t want to put any attention onto it. As much as selfishly Prisma wanted to make it better, she respected that wish.
Once the two had become more than friends was an emotional day for Prisma and Shadowheart. It surprised Prisma she truly did feel the same connection, but was elated she wanted to pursue that feeling. But seeing the shock of pain now being Shadowheart’s lover brought a pain to Prisma as well. The last thing she wanted to do was make Shadowheart’s pain about herself, so she kept quiet, respected her wishes on ignoring anytime she heard the woman she cared for deeply yelp out “it hurts!” But watching the person you care for going through a pain caused by another just “because” was a pain Prisma didn’t know how to deal with. So she buried it, it was the best she could do.
“I-I haven’t said this to anyone before.” It was dark out, the stars twinkling above them as the moon watched the two lovers sit by a lake by themselves. Prisma had asked Shadowheart if she would meet her here at this lake when they got back to camp. Spend a night without the prying of their friends back at camp, and it’s been a while since it’s been the two of them. Besides, Prisma wanted to talk to her without anyone overhearing her.
“I’ve told people I care for them, that the care I feel for them is deep. But these certain words always get stuck in my throat. Never able to be uttered to anyone.” Prisma nervously picked a daisy close by her, holding up the tiny flower and rubbing the stem between her fingers to have the flower spin. “These words are terrifying, if I’m perfectly honest. I was afraid to say it to anyone. But… No matter how little time we’ve been traveling together, I can’t help but find myself not terrified to say it to you.”
“What are those words?” Shadowheart whispered, like she spoke any louder she would spook off the druid.
She looked down to Shadowheart, the beautiful woman lounging with her at the edge of a lake. Her chest bloomed happily the more she looked at Shadowheart as she patiently waited for her lover to speak. Prisma raised her hand, tucking the daisy behind Shaodwheart’s pointed ear.
“... I love you.”
She swallowed nervously as she watched for any reaction from Shadowheart, the tiniest out, any moment of rejection that could be coming her way. But all she found was a smile that pulled at her lips, making Prisma’s own smile grow.
“I love you, too.”
Shadowheart scooted closer to the other woman, slotting herself against Prisma’s side. Raising her hand to cup her cheek, brushing her thumb across the apple of Prisma’s green freckled cheek. It was either the relief or a magnet that pulled Prisma into her and pressed her lips against her lovers. She didn't care which it was.
Kissing Shadowheart had quickly become a favorite thing for Prisma to do. Typically in front of the others, the ones they would share in front of the others was soft, Prisma’s hand gently on Shadowhearts waist to pull her in as they make the kiss quick. But these ones, without anyone to see or interrupt, were the best ones. The way she slots herself against the wood-elf, leaving almost all her weight to be supported by her lover. Sometimes nipping at her lips just to cause a giggle to rise out of Prisma was adorable at how satisfied she was with herself. Shadowheart lets Prisma run on of her hands from her cheek to cupping her neck, able to feel her heartbeat faintly against her thumb as she deepens the kiss between them.
Prisma could do this forever.
Slowly she reluctantly parted the kiss, a joyous smile on her lips as a new euphoria filled her. The girl she told she loved, loved her back! This was the first person she’s ever truly meant it and knew that’s what she was feeling.
But the elation quickled faded.
Shadowheart let out a yelp, her hand jumping off of Prisma’s cheek to grasp her left hand, a pained expression as she whines, “it hurts!”
It was quick to fade but the smile didn’t return to her face. “Sorry- must’ve gotten too happy.”
An anger flared in Prisma’s chest. This was unfair. This was a happy moment for them, Prisma was not going to let Shar let herself be involved in this moment.
She gently touched Shadowheart’s left hand, taking over on rubbing it over before moving to link their hands together. “You shouldn’t be feeling pain just because Shar wants to punish you.” Prisma says as she gently rubs her thumb across her soft skin.
“It’s okay. I told you, I can live with it.” Always trying to assure everyone she was fine. Not to fuss over her comfort.
“I know,” Prisma whispers, looking down to her hand and rubs her hand across the black spot. “But you shouldn’t have to.”
She raised their linked hands to her lips and began pressing small kisses across the top of her hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to kiss it better.” Prisma stopped for a moment to speak. “I know I can’t take away the pain and you prefer we ignore it… but… please let me, I can do this rather than just stand back and watch the woman I love being in pain. No matter how short it happens.”
Shadowheart seemed to be in awe, maybe a bit surprised, but a soft expression was there as she see’s how deeply her lover wants to look out for her. She knew Prisma wanted to help anyone’s comfort, but anytime it was to herself it was still a bit of a surprise. “Well- I won’t stop you.”
Prisma grinned and brought her hand back up to her lips.
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neofeliis · 4 months
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Death's Eyes
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Pairing: F!DurgexAstarion
Summary: Death walked side by side with Astarion every day as a vampire spawn, it was only a matter of time before he met the child of murder. In the worlds both of them are confined to, it's not unlikely the two would find each other more than once in the underbelly of the city. What was unlikely, was just how far those coincidental meetings would go.
Note: I have NOT been able to get this out of my head. I love a good "We knew each other before and then SURPRISE amnesia" trope. Enjoy!
Read on Ao3 here
----
Blood covered every inch of the young tiefling the first time he saw her.  The first fingers of dawn crawled across the damp cobbles of the city streets, placing an impenetrable line between him and the dizzying elixir that was like to go to waste.  All the sense in the world told him it was past time to retreat back to the palace for the day, but harsh as the lower city could be it was not every day something this brutal made it to the light of day.
By all accounts, she looked like a child, standing stock still outside a house somehow quieter than death.  With a sight like this, someone somewhere should have been fussing over whatever scene she had stepped out of.  Most of all the youngling, who should have been screaming, sobbing.  Afraid of whatever had dressed her in crimson.
But not a sound escaped the girl, and not a single tear fell from her wide, unfocused eyes.  Shock, he mused, pushing his luck with every second he remained on the spot.  That was the logical conclusion, yet something in the scene scratched at his mind.  Something, other.  Her hands did not shake, her tail did not writhe.  Everything he knew of tieflings told him their tails were oversized mood rings, and hers hung limp on the stones behind her.
Astarion was perilously close to losing all darkness when her eyes flicked up, meeting his like she had known exactly where to look. The cold that twinged just beneath his skin and prickled his flesh rooted him to the spot a moment longer than he should dare. Hunger. Ravenous, greedy hunger festered there. 
Those eyes, dark enough to not betray their color, would not soon leave the elf’s memories. Not an ounce of panic worked its way onto her features, and he wondered if she was looking right through him. Instead her mouth moved to speak into the fading dark, but the sound barely carried over the breeze that swept between them.  What she had actually said would flit in and out of his memories in the weeks to come as he recalled the scent that assaulted him with that wind, but he was never quite sure if he heard her right.
“Father says I'm not allowed to like them..I liked them.”
*
The smell of bloodbath visited Astarion a few more times over the years, but he would not seek it out again as he had that one night.  The pressure to bring back warm bodies for his master had only increased, and he’d had his share of stealing children.  He needed living souls, and if he knew what was good for him he would steer clear of the stink of death.
Still, he kept an ear out for the rumors that followed. A string of sporadic murders uncharacteristically brutal in nature kept the underbelly of the city on edge. The more there were, the more color the rumors took on. A serial killer, a demon, a Bhaalist insurgence.
He did everything in his power to not roll his eyes listening to his latest target, a half elf woman, prattle on about her own theories. She was shifty, unable to hold his stare, and his charms along with the alcohol were not working as easily as they usually did. Whatever this is, is making my job a lot more difficult, he thought bitterly, trying to school his glare into something cool and indifferent.
“--but so many of them are families,” she continued, having barely stopped since he made the mistake of asking what she thought. “I heard from my brother, who heard from his friend Cyllo that many of them were people who were known to take in strays off the street. That this was what they got for bein’ bleedin’ hearts. But my brother says he bets it's some baby-faced halfling from the Bhaalist underground pretending to be a street urchin.”
Astarion could only stare, and she took his silence as an invitation to keep talking. 
He went home empty handed that night, and took lashings in excess for it. 
*
It would be some time before he saw the tiefling girl again.  She was somewhere in her teens, by his best estimate, when he found those eyes once more in the dark. Prowling these alleys was second nature, and anyone with sense knew not to be caught alone in the way she was, sitting without a visible concern against the wall. Nearly everything about her had changed enough to make recognition near impossible for someone whose only job was to pile innumerable bodies in the palace foyer.  But the eyes had it; that was all Astarion needed to see to remember the red child outside the quiet, dark home all those years ago.
Blood ran in swathes over her arms, like paint strokes he thought, coating her hands entirely.  A few splashes kissed on her face, but the rest of her was notably cleaner than the first time. It seemed she had grown out of the wide-eyed shock that held her in her youth, and it had instead morphed into mirthless exhaustion, and something familiar he couldn't place. She looked as though sleep had not found her in weeks.  Hunger? Maybe? Or was it mania?
This time, the moon hung high and bright in the night sky, and dawn was a long ways off.  This time, he could take her, if he wanted.  The shadows sat darker on nights like these, and the elf settled into the comfort of cover as his hungry stare found its way again to her fresh accessories.  What design of misfortune is yours to be such close friends already with bloodshed, little one?
Again, her eyes found his with sharp precision. His muscles locked, only because he was certain he’d been hidden entirely.  He glared, cursing his own carelessness, and considered again making her his target for the evening.  For several long, twisting moments, hunger clouded his thoughts.  The blood was right there, blood he could accidentally have for himself before bringing her home. An absentminded cleaning of his fingers after touching her hands. Master need not ever know, it could be something just for him.
Astarion took a single step forward, and without the tiefling moving a muscle, a deep sense of foreboding fell over him like ice water.  In an instant the murderous hunger vacated his body and with a single curl of her lip seemed to wrap itself around her instead.  Like a loyal pet.  His mind shifted to acute, cold clarity and he blanched a step. When recalling why he went after different prey that night, he would remember the shadows around her shifting as though alive, and swearing he heard a goading voice speaking somewhere near her. 
*
Forcing down the rats never seemed to get easier.  Once, after a year of starvation, he was convinced they would taste divine, but the disappointment for that came and went quickly.  The best he could manage were fresh caught on the streets when Cazador was merciful enough to rescind his “you only eat what I give you” rule for a night or two.  When it came down to the carcasses that were provided, and the one he could catch himself, the difference was marginal.  But all he had in life was what he could eke out in the margins.
Blood and viscera dripped from his chin, his body hunched like a feral creature over the drained animal in his hands, when the smell of death not of his making crept into the filthy alley.  Death was no stranger, not on these streets, but this blend felt far more familiar than it should.
The hair on the back of Astarion’s neck prickled, and a snarl rumbled reflexively in his throat. Someone was coming, and by the sounds of it, keeping quiet was a natural skill.  Not good enough to hide entirely from him, but better than the common folk.
Woe be upon anyone who interrupted him here when desperate hunger burned the back of his throat. It was never enough, they were never enough. Rats were sewer water, never filling, never curbing the burn, the ache. Nothing, nothing ever soothed the ache.  
He waited for the steps to come just a bit closer before he whirled, spitting mad, with a dagger at the ready in his fist.  If he sliced them violently enough, maybe he could cover his face, his lips…
The hooded figure did not blanch, and made no move to draw a weapon. Instead they paused at the crossing of the alleyways several feet away, clearly moving in their own direction before the snarling of a wild animal halted them.  An inconvenience.
Long horns curved out through cut holes in their hood, and a lithe tail swished once as the hooded figure turned slowly.  Astarion’s blood cooled as their eyes met his, and though he could see no other features of their face, the eyes of murder were indisputable.  Thrice now, Astarion had found death in this unknown tiefling, even if tonight no blood stained her person; the stink of it still followed her.  A constant companion, it seemed.
There was a moment where she stared at him, then slowly tilted her head in recognition.  In the following seconds she moved faster than he could predict and in a blur of dark cloth she was upon him. The rogue found his bearings in the final split second, just as his back impacted the wall with a grunt. When stillness fell again, both had respective knives to their throats. 
Astarion, here, found himself the closest he had yet been to the eyes of murder. He was more than familiar with the city’s worst, sitting under the thumb of one.  There are those who adopt power, who learn to be cruel, how to take a life. But never in his life had he seen what looked like, felt like, innate nature. 
With a hiss he tightened his grip on his dagger, and in perfect rhythm both pressed just a fraction more against flesh, just shy of drawing blood. He was certain he was the image of indignant frustration, but in her eyes there was the quickest flash of unrestrained glee. Then every second after that passed bloodlessly, he saw it. Hunger. 
Astarion blinked as though staring into a mirror for the first time.  Never enough, never ending, the constant ache of starvation. The burn, the need. Roiling in her stare like a wild beast that thinned the air between them.  With a twitch of her lips, she pushed the tiniest bit closer into his unyielding grip, and a thin red line bloomed where it made contact with her flesh.  A single, warm drip ran down her skin, settling and pooling into the hollow of her neck. 
The panic rose faster than he could control it off of his face, and there was nothing that could be done about his traitorous eyes fixing on the forbidden sustenance. Too close, it’s too close, he thought, his mouth going painfully dry.
The tiefling’s face was not that of someone looking at their only natural predator. Instead, she looked expectant, waiting for him to take his chance.  In that moment, he realized that she knew what he was.  But as much as he wanted it, as close at it was, as easy as it would have been to do something about her idiotic bluff, his master’s command rang like a death bell though every fiber of his being, and he remained frozen. 
The woman gave him one final dip of her chin, a final dare, with nothing in response.  Then, it was gone, and a mask of cool disinterest settled onto her hood-darkened face.
“Disappointing,” she said casually, eyes fixated on the blade edge poised against his flesh. It was the first time Astarion had heard her voice clearly, and could barely see the angled lines of her adult face under the hood.  “What a pretty corpse you’d be, were you not a slave to another,” she continued, a voice of smooth velvet, “Someday, when you become your own blood-artist, I will kill you. Fortunately for you I'm indebted to another tonight, so our dance will have to wait.”
Before he could retort, before he could move to defend himself, the shadows around her whirled, and she and her dagger were gone.  When he fled the alley, he left behind his bloodied dagger, finding himself in need of a new one entirely.
Astarion would not see death in the form of the tiefling woman again in the streets of Baldur’s Gate, and the whispers of slaughter and murder-plots would grow ever quieter. He wondered now and again if she had met her own end, but something in his heart told him she was far from done with this world. That, and the scent of walking bloodshed that never quite seemed to stop following him. 
*
A plan, he needed a plan.  In an unknown land, beneath the warmth of the sun, with a splitting headache from the creature within.   He needed to come up with something fast. But plans came easy to Astarion, and it seemed that for once in his life he was in a position to follow them through however he wanted. The rules had changed. The sun warmed his skin, his will felt like his own. 
When footsteps and two talking figures began to make their way up the path, the plan quickly took shape.  A quick lie, a turned back, and like breathing his knife found its way to the unsuspecting tiefling’s throat.  The threats to their companion rolled off his tongue like the master he was, feeling fully in control of the situation.  This was his path to information, to finding out just what had happened on that ship, and perhaps securing some gullible help towards whatever laid before him now.  It was a seamless plan in what would be a long line of easy manipulations to get him where he needed to be.
Until he looked back at his squirming hostage–a female tiefling–and met their eyes.
Wide, bewildered, and unmistakably familiar.  The smell of death wasn’t just the nautiloid, it was the woman in his grasp.  Dulled, but there if he really focused.
She sensed his surprise, the falter in his grip, and took her chance to roll away from him to safety.  In this moment, he let her.  
Both jumped to their feet, poised in a standoff, and Astarion took this opportunity to study her face in new, vivid, sunlit detail. She had been just a few years younger when he saw her features last under the shadow of a heavy hood.  The tone of her skin, the color of her hair, the curve of her horns, all of them pointed to the woman he had seen in the street, who had held a blade to his throat just like he'd done now.
The eyes.  The color was the same, the way his heart seized when he saw them, the same. But the way she looked at him, the way they widened and studied him with careful assessment, that was markedly different.  The darkness that had been festering there even as a child seemed to be all but gone.  He recalled her final words to him the last time they crossed paths a few short years ago, but by the way she was looking at him she did not seem to remember them herself.  After two brief meetings in passing, she had remembered him the night she threatened him, but here in the light of day not a shred of familiarity was there. 
He wondered, initially, if it was a trick. But even when she was a child he felt that oppressive feeling of woe that surrounded her. Here, now it was quiet. 
Which meant, she had no idea who he was, or that she meant to kill him. 
As Astarion smiled sweetly and sketched a bow of introduction, he felt the thrill of the upper hand, of an even better plan unfolding.
*
The elf rarely took his eyes off of her, Tav, she had introduced herself as.  Memory loss was always a convenient excuse, which she had said plainly enough when pushed in conversation. But it remained to be seen how true it was.  Sooner or later, she was going to slip up.  Her gaze would cast ice into his veins again and he would know on the spot that she was just as much a  liar as he was.  
But, he watched her be, kind.  He watched her choose, actively, to help others, and then leave without so much as using their trust against them.  He watched their companions, most of all the insufferably pathetic wizard, fall into reckless comfortability with her.  Tav nurtured it at every turn, she held the line in battle, and came quickly to their aid.  She opened their camp to an entire stranger, and an insufferable bard no less.
What game are you playing? he mused from his bedroll, watching her bed down for the night.  
Astarion’s breath hitched when her eyes flicked to his, and deja vu wracked every part of his body.  There you are, show it to me.  Show me what a liar you are, he goaded, a small smirk curling on his lips.
But just as quickly as Tav had found his stare, she looked away, her hands fumbling with the rest of her bedding.  He blinked, completely puzzled.  The darkness wasn’t there, foreboding did not lie down to rest around his heart.  She looked flustered, in the same way he was so very good at making his targets feel.  
For a night, he fell asleep doubting that she was faking her convenient memory loss.  He drifted out of consciousness with the sweet taste of I know something she doesn’t on his tongue, and how that would serve him.  
And then they awoke to the corpse of the brutalized bard in the middle of their camp, and the waves of death stink rolling off of her were unmistakable. There you are, he thought with gleeful satisfaction.  The body, the apprehensive party, and only Astarion knew with almost certainty who could have done it.  He could have exposed her right there, outed her little game, but the temptation of watching her sweat through it was too great.  Because what greater upper hand than a secret that could oust her from the only hope she had at ridding herself of her parasite?  
He had to admit, he was impressed at how quickly Tav had cleaned herself when he had never known her to care before.  He was even more impressed at how easily she talked herself into innocence.  Good, so the secret remains ours then, he thought.
“It’s time to start talking,” he cooed at her when the others had left earshot.  What good was blackmail if someone didn’t know you had it?  And what was more satisfying than the look of someone who was caught in a snare?  She’d gotten the upper hand on him once before, toyed with him when he was a lesser man and made sure he knew it.  The look of frustration on her face that those tables had turned would be sweeter than anything he’d been afforded in recent decades.
But disappointment seemed loathe to take its claws out of Astarion.  Because instead of baring her teeth like a trapped animal, genuine fear bloomed on her features.  Sweat beaded on her brow and her entire posture slumped.  He didn’t know if a tiefling her color could look green, but whatever shade she turned was about as close as she could get to it.  Her words came out in a stammering, pathetic jumble of ‘I swear it wasn’t me,’ and ‘I don’t know what happened,’ and then finally a shred of something useful: ‘Please don’t tell the others.’
A slow, sinister grin spread on his face.  It may not have been what he was hoping for, but this? This he could work with.  
“Oh, darling, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with a sympathetic tilt of his head, the charm coming like second nature.  “Your secret is safe with me.”
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dxnse-macabre · 14 days
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GET TO KNOW YOUR MUSE BETTER
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✩ — 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒.
▸ IS YOUR MUSE TALL / SHORT / AVERAGE? : tall, at least according to the dnd player handbook. the average height for elves ranges from under 5' to above 6'. he's on the taller end of the scale.
▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT ? : yes!! he loves being able to look down at others, gives him some feeling of superiority.
▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE? : white, curly. he puts a hint of product in his hair so it at least stays out of his face when he fights (his secret is aloe. both serves as some sort of shampoo/conditioner and hair gel to keep his hair in place.) if you run your hands through his hair right after he took a bath without any aloe, it's very soft.
▸ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR / GROOMING? : of course! you will NEVER catch him with greasy hair, unless it is right after a fight-- but the second he's back at camp, he's the first person in the river bathing. while he has fun killing and gutting others, he doesn't like it when he feels sticky, sweaty, and gross.
▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE / WHAT OTHERS THINK ? : the one thing he has left that is his is his appearance, so of course he'd be very particular about it. he relishes in the fact that he's very attractive, and holds it very dear to his heart (that's also why he refuses to take the astral tadpole)
✩ — 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒.
▸ INDOORS OR OUTDOORS? : outdoors. he can get claustrophobic if indoors is too... indoors.
▸ RAIN OR SUNSHINE? : he loves the sun. he misses it.
▸ FOREST OR BEACH? : forest. he doesn't like sand; it gets in places you never want it to be.
▸ PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS? : gems. he would love to rock some rings with precious stones on them.
▸ FLOWERS OR PERFUMES? : perfumes. he loves smelling amazing.
▸ PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE? : personality. he doesn't care if you're a dwarf. he doesn't care if you're an orc. or a tiefling. or a gith. he finds his partners sexy either way, so as long as they respect his boundaries and listen to him
▸ BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD? : depends. he likes to be the life of the party and draw everyone's attention. but being alone?... sometimes he needs a moment to think by himself. but he's also afraid of dying alone, so...
▸ ORDER OR ANARCHY? : anarchy. let's fuck some shit up
▸ PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES? : white lies. he'd lie his ass everywhere he goes if that meant that he lives or that it saves someone from a moment of hurt. he really believes in the whole, "ignorance is bliss" thing.
▸ SCIENCE OR MAGIC? : magic. he gives gale a lot of shit for being a magical wizard guy, but... truth be told, he's pretty jealous. he wishes that he could just burn everyone that touches him in a way he doesn't like.
▸ PEACE OR CONFLICT? : conflict. he loves the drama
▸ NIGHT OR DAY? : day. night is nice, but he relishes the daylight when he can.
▸ DUSK OR DAWN? : dusk. this is the prime time to get up to no good
▸ WARMTH OR COLD? : warmth. he needs a hug
▸ MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS? : few close friends. he needs them. he has too many people that know his body, but not who he is.
▸ READING OR PLAYING A GAME? : reading. you guys know the idle animation LOL
✩ — 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄.
▸ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS? : he's a, "glass half-empty" kind of guy. he's inclined to be very self-centered and pragmatic, and also jealous of those that tav helps out. it always goes back to the whole, "why weren't you there so you could have helped me when i needed it most" kind of thing.
▸ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM? : his family. his friends in his past life. his mortality. he lost so much, and he has to live with that for however long he has left. he's afraid to watch all of the companions live out their last days, due to his immortality.
▸ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS? : honestly? he doesn't have much. the new memories that he makes now are the best memories he has. if he tries to think of the past, his good memories from his life before... he can't remember.
▸ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL? : yeah. it's too easy for him to take away a life. he's been doing it for so long, he often forgets that the people he killed had lives that they left behind.
▸ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN? : it's emotional, explosive. if he's angry, he has angry tears running down his cheeks. don't trust him with a knife or anything else, because he will stab someone/something. if it's a depressed breakdown, he falls to his knees. he might even slam his fists or claw at the ground if he feels like he's been wronged and doesn't feel like he deserved whatever he got. then, there's a calm after the storm. he goes catatonic for a while and tries to process what happened.
▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE? : he's afraid to, but he's capable. you need to get through several barriers first before he takes it in stride. he needs to trust you first. otherwise, he'll think that you're trying to force him to be indebted to you.
▸ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE? : he's afraid. he's afraid to see how it ends up, afraid to fuck it up, but he's also so certain that it's what he wants. he holds it close, but holds you like porcelain. i like to think that the real astarion, the mortal one from almost 200 years ago, comes back. he learns how to live again. he learns that he isn't just an object. he learns that he's more than what the world made him out to be, thanks to you. he will search far and wide for something that can "cure" your mortality without giving your soul to the devil... but if he can't find that? he's still happy that it happened, and will want to die by your side once you two have lived a happy life together.
tagged by: the one and only @wildskissed tagging: @crimesought @murderbled @nightsdogma + anyone else that wants to do this!
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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 2 months
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Humanity
Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.3K WC
Masterlist
Warnings: TW!! self harm, blood, cutting, soft Astarion, not glorifying self harm it is a real problem people struggle with myself included, angst, hurt/comfort
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Astarion constantly smelt blood when he was around you. Given all the adventuring and your general clumsiness he assumed you always had a scrape somewhere. You were quite odd to him. Skittish, afraid of the world. And yet, you were kind as could be. Always helping, sometimes to your detriment. He couldn’t quite discern what he felt towards you. You annoyed him beyond belief. But heaven forbid anyone say anything remotely negative about you and suddenly he had a knife at their throat. You were… complicated. To say the least. 
He saw the pain in your eyes, the same pain Abdirak mentioned the day Astarion met you. He knew how introverted you were and how the smallest things could have you blushing. He often used it to his advantage when he needed to persuade the others. You almost always sided with him, naively. He couldn’t tell what you felt for him, which frustrated him further. You never fell for the obvious seduction. Even when he asked you to his bedroll at the tiefling party; you blushed violently before stuttering an excuse to get away from him. He didn’t see you the rest of the night and when you were at camp the next morning he thought nothing of it. He noticed how often you were alone, how distant your face looked when you thought nobody was looking. He could always see the lack of sleep under your eyes, the hollowing of your cheeks as your eating was disordered. You had an air of melancholy around you when you weren't actively being the sunshine of camp. He never knew how to approach you when you were so obviously in pain. He wanted to care, but he himself was afraid of what caring for you might stir inside him. 
Tonight he sat at his tent, reading and drinking his usual red. Everyone had seemingly retired for the night, only his and your tents remained illuminated by candles. He glanced at your tent every now and then, wondering what you were up to. Suddenly, he watched you walk out of your tent, you headed for the lake. Astarion assumed you were going to wash so he left you be. That was until he smelled your blood, fresh. So fresh you were likely still bleeding. He listened closely as he stood to make his way to you. Your heart beat was even. How were you so calm if you were bleeding? He made his way to the lake stealthily. Not wanting to alert whatever was hurting you so he would have an advantage over it. 
What he saw stopped him in his tracks. There you sat, your legs partially in the lake while you sliced little cuts into your right thigh. With each new cut you watched the blood trickle and ooze before splashing your leg with water and repeating the process. He could hear your random sniffles, he could see the tears that flowed down your cheeks shine in the dim moonlight. 
“Oh my sweet…” he gasped out before cautiously making his way to you. 
You heard a twig snap a few feet from behind you. Your first instinct took over and you immediately cast sanctuary on yourself. There was no way you could fight something with muscle right now. All you had was your magic. Your eyes widened in horror when they met Astarion’s. 
He tried not to look, he really did. But your flowy white night shirt was seeping up the blood from your upper thigh, while the lower cuts bled down your leg. He was horrified in his own way. The purest soul, so selfless and sweet, insufferably kind - was hurting themself. He opened his mouth before shutting it again, not knowing what to say. He tore his eyes from your leg. Your eyes were round and full of fear. Your waterline was ready to burst with tears but you willed them to stay put. 
“Please don’t tell the others.” you whispered after a moment. 
Everything was so still, except you. You were shaking. Astarion carefully stepped towards you. When you didn’t retreat, which he fully expected you to do, he softly held your arms. Supporting you physically, he could feel the way you trembled. You reminded him of a frightened animal. And here you were being supported by a natural predator. His throat clenched despite him having no intention of biting you or drinking from you. His pupils dilated, the smell alone called to his savage, vampiric nature. 
“I won’t.” He said back sincerely. “What happened, little love?”
You nudge your head into his chest, unable to speak with the current lump in your throat. You weren’t brave enough to look at him. You didn’t want to see the pity, or disgust. Astarion slowly walked you back a few paces to sit you on a rock. 
“Stay.” he said before you watched him use transmutation to blink to gods know where. He vanished for only a moment before he reappeared in the very same fashion he vanished. He held a small parcel in his hand. You shifted your legs facing them away from him. He put a gentle, cold hand on your knee, tilting you to face him. 
His fingers worked diligently. He focused on the larger cuts before the smaller ones. “You wont need any stitches…” he said, mostly to himself but smiled slightly when he saw you watching him. 
You closed your eyes, slightly relieved. “I… I’ve been doing this since I was 12. But this is the first time someone else has… seen them. I thought I was so clever…” you finished with a watery laugh. 
“You don’t owe me an explanation, darling. Pain is pain. It manifests differently in us all.” he whispered as he laid the large pad of gauze over your cuts. You winced, sucking in a sharp breath. “I know, I know sweetheart. Just breathe for me…” he said, holding your leg in place as he gently but quickly wrapped your leg in gauze. Your small whimpers that you tried to hold back were like a hammer to his heart, cracking a little more with every whine. 
“All done.” he said, letting go of you. You hissed as you pulled your knees up. 
You felt the angry red skin beneath the bandages, heat radiating from it. You nodded at him, “Thank you…” you mumbled. 
Astarion finally felt his thirst subside slightly. He sat across from you, waiting for you to speak, if you wanted to. 
“I feel like I’m getting the bad out when I do it. All the hate and malice and pain… just goes with each cut.” you mumbled, not looking at him, your hands fidgeting with your sleeves. 
“I understand. I think most people hurt themselves in one way or another to relieve themselves. Life is too difficult not to. Your preferred method is just a bit more obvious than others. This doesn’t make you bad or unworthy. This just makes you… human.” Astarion said, sincerity laced every word. 
You stifled a small laugh, you weren’t human, but you understood the sentiment. He understood your humanity. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with all this…” you said, your heart hurt just thinking about how strange and possibly traumatic this is for Astarion. 
He waved his hand absentmindedly, “Think nothing of it, darling. I am always happy to be here for you, in any way you need me.” he gently took your hand. 
You smiled at him. He stood before he picked you up bridal style, his inhuman strength on full display as he carried you back to camp. You watched him look between your tents before he walked to yours. Placing you gently on the bedroll, careful not to bump your sensitive leg. He started to get up but your hand caught his wrist. 
“Could you stay?” you asked, not entirely sure why. 
“Of course. Sleep now, and in the morning I’ll buy you a delicious little health potion and…” he said, eyeing you to see what else you could want.
“Cake?” you said.
Ah, your sweet tooth, another trait he secretly adored. “Cake it is, dear one.” he watched you wrap yourself around his waist before drifting off rather quickly. He watched you fondly, moving a bit of hair from your face every once in a while.
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Naboo's Note:
Hello all! I hope everyone is well. This is a bit of a heavier fic but I think it might be a new personal favorite. Quite a bit of the behaviors described are derived from reality. Felt a little therapeutic to write this somehow? Idk if it is weird let me know an I'll take it down ASAP. Thanks for the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests. XOXOXOXO!
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ilikedetectives · 3 months
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Spell your url ✧˖°.
Spell out your URL using song titles that can describe your muse/OC, then tag as many people as there are letters in your URL!
Thank you @horsyunicorn for the tag! This is for my Tav, Kalius, a criminal ranger Mephistopheles Tiefling whose moral compass is Minthara. Note: lyrics in "" are direct quotes and those in [] are translations stitched together. And "you" in these songs are referring to Minthara in Kalius' POV OwO
I - I Feel Immortal - Tarja Turunen "Whenever I wake up / I’m lost and always afraid / It’s never the same place / I close my eyes to escape / The walls around me" L - LMLY - Jackson Wang "Don't leave me, loving you / Whatever you do / Don't leave me, loving you / If you tip toe out in the morning, I need a warning" I - Imaginarium - Nightwish K - Kizuna No Kiseki - MAN WITH A MISSION x milet [For who do we carry on our lives for / Intertwining fates / Road of the serpent, countless sins / Cut them all down] E - Eyes, Nose, Lips - Taeyang [Your eyes, nose, lips. Your touch that used to touch me. To the end of your fingertips, I can still feel you.] D - Devil - Super Junior [Everything, even kneeling before you feels so natural now...You're cold and hot, devil, like a midsummer rain shower. After drenching my hot body, you burn up my throat again. You make me taste a moment of pleasure, then you burn up my throat again.] E - El Dorado - Two Steps From Hell T - Tempo - EXO [I wanna be the only one hearing her, she's my melody...Your scent is in my heart. Striking like a wave...Don't slow it up for me.] E - End of All Hope - Nightwish "It is the end of all hope / To lose the child, the faith / To end all the innocence / To be someone like me" C - Chân Ái (Vietnamese equivalent of Alurlssrin) - Orange x Khói x Châu Đăng Khoa [Since the day you arrive, dawn suddenly comes to the sky. Like a ring of melodies when all beings are moved. You are the symphony that evokes emotions in the human/mundane world.] T - Truyền Thái Y (Summon the Imperial Doctor) - Ngô Kiến Huy x Masew [You finally notice me. Coming closer, the captivating fragrance blooms. Wait for one minute, I want to say. Summon the imperial doctor, I'm so drunk I already lost my way back.] I - I Think I - Super Junior [The dream that is becoming more distinct...I'll stretch out my hand to catch the perfect moon. Your entrancing dance and eyes that dominate me...Getting drunk only on the entrancing rhythm, I engulf you completely. Getting drunk on you.] V - Vì Yêu Cứ Đâm Đầu (For Love, Dive In Head First) MIN x Đen x JustaTEE [I want to be bounded in your embrace / I want to listen to every breath surrounding me.] E - Ever Dream - Nightwish "Would you do it with me? / Heal the scars and change the stars / Would you do it for me? / Turn loose the heaven within" S - Sha fa (杀伐 / Kill and Conquer) 司空先生 x 苏子凡 x 岚之调 x SESE鱼 (this version specifically x) [It is the hells that invite me, glancing at the flaws of artifices in this world. Dye river with blood in exchange for a heaven and earth without flaws.]
Tagging, if you would like to, no pressure at all ^o^ @minthara, @wyllravengard, @miyku, @userkarlachs, @orphiceonian, @blacksalander, @jove999, @usurperss, @mistress-light, @onewingedangels, @jujoobedoodling, @vikingnerd793
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tricksterrune · 8 months
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Rogues playing DnD: Classes
I fully admit that this is based on my limited experience of DnD, mainly through season 1 of Vox Machina, The Gamers 2: Dorkness Rising and FrasierDnD Twitter, specifically this. I also used to play The Dark Eye from which I steal aspects. And WoW
for @belphegor1982
Piper: DungeonMaster
He brings them together. They call him a nerd for it, but it sounds like fun so they all join in. But while Piper is the most experienced as of now, he hasn't played since college and wasn't the dungeon master, he isn't 100% in control and improvises a lot. At first he tries to keep them on the story path but learns to relax and let go. He used to have a high level bard in college and frequently uses that character's relatives as npcs.
James: hmmmmm
In the Dark Eye there were classic fae changelings. Fae could take a child and leave a changeling in its wake. And you could then play as the child that was taken which grew up in the fae realm, learn magic and becomes fae-like (If I remember correctly). James would play a character but never actually clarify whether he was the original character or the changeling pretending to be him.
Or I go with my initial answer and say that he roleplays as someone who does not fit into the world of DnD (as I once played a whole quest trying to be Indiana Jones). Half-elf...alledgedly
Mick: Monk....now
Mick's character became a monk later in life and starts as a veteran character (is that a thing in DnD?). Which means that he starts stronger but his character is old. He'd be a Dragonborn because they look badass. He is always super-prepared and carries endless supplies.
Mark: Wizard, elf or human
I hc Mark as someone who likes reading and not just Mark Twain, who was overshadowed by his gifted brother who was into natural sciences. He probably loves fantasy books but never engaged as a teen, wanting to appear tough. He has big ideas but hasn't read the rulebook too closely, just stories and wants to be a wizard who can do everything, mainly throw fireballs at people. Piper has to remind him frequently that he can't do the thing he just announced he was going to do. "I cast Firestorm!" "Do you know the spell?" "No?" "What about your spell slots?" "My what?"
Roscoe: Artificer, human
He sticks to what he knows best so he essentially plays himself. BUT he has read the rulebook twice and has become a rule's lawyer. He often thinks outside of the box but sometimes gets bigged down by what the numbers say are possible and what's a good story. He'd try a peasant railgun.
Lisa: Rogue, tiefling
Skintight leather? Check. Awfully sharp knives? Check. Steal absolutely EVERYTHING? Check. Often gets the party into trouble with her antics. "Can I roll to steal the crown?" "Seeing as its currently on the king's head, he's looking at you and is surrounded by his royal guard....no." She'd play tiefling, sexy as hell.
Digger: Barbarian, half-orc or orc
Digger junior, his character's name, will fight everyone, drink everything and then fight everyone again. He is legendary in bar brawls. His secret goal is to be the brawler like no ever ever was. Fighting's his real test, drinking is his cause. Digger jr is Digger unfiltered which you'd think was impossible.
Len: Druid, elf
He was blackmailed into attending at first (but secretly has fun) and plays a druid, almost exclusively in bear form (assuming that's possible, I' drawing on my WoW knowledge). His favorite trick is making people think he's a regular bear and only reveals himself when it's funny. Has written a couple of bear puns, but is afraid to use them unless he's a little drunk.
Sam: Bard! And a woman!
Charisma, charisma and charisma! He needs everyone to know that he is the most beautiful lady of all the land. And his character doesn't get her hands dirty, she stays outside and keeps inspiring the party. In ideal circumstances anyway, she has mace (an actual mace) when things get tough.
Roy: Warlock, Tiefling.
Roy strives to become an eldritch entity himself, possibly by killing his patron. At least he's not giving up his soul. He draws the most beautiful character portraits between rounds.
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thetavolution · 3 months
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I made my character Bex from @thebonnevillegame a character in BG3!
I thought she'd be perfect as a tiefling in the BG3 world. I plan on doing Laura, Minty, and Ingrid very soon.
BEX
Full name:  Rebecca Elspeth McQuoid Name meaning:  Rebecca: to bind or tie; Elspeth: chosen by God; McQuoid: son of Uad (Gaelic form of Wat, short for Walter) Pronouns: She/Her  Race: Tiefling Age: 36  Orientation: Pansexual Romance: Astarion Class: Bard Subclass: College of Swords Origin: Entertainer Theme Song:  Smoke and Mirrors — Gotye
Personality Bex is intelligent, but flippant. Not very many things upset her, but when they do anger her, she goes from 0 to 60 in the blink of an eye. She can typically diffuse tense situations simply by a lack of reaction or by telling a joke. She generally keeps a cool head, so much so it seems like she doesn’t care. In reality, she’s tired. She’s seen some shit and she is over it.
Her philosophy is life is hard, why make it harder? She’s way too tired for that shit. She tries to help people out and, while she’s not perfect at it, she tries to be encouraging. She's friendly yet apathetic to most people when she meets them at first.
She doesn't hate a lot of people either. Someone would really have to press her buttons or give her a reason to hate them. She’ll hate someone as vile as Cazador with her whole heart, or she’ll just really hate someone like Naaber due to pure annoyance. She’s the type of person who prefers to stick up for the underdog.
She struggles to trust people on a deeper level, yet she continues to seek out connection with others. Under all her bluster, she has a good heart. She's just used to taking care of herself with little to no help from anybody else. Some people see her as trashy and she'd tell them they're correct.
Although not cruel, she doesn’t always do or say what someone needs her to. She’s blunt, but she’s never intentionally hurtful. Sometimes she just sucks at wording herself. She’s never been one to brush off someone else’s hurt feelings with “I’m just being honest” either.
Although she’s intelligent, she’s good at playing dumb in order to get what she wants. She knows how to game the system and happily teaches people she trusts to do the same. When she feels wronged, she won’t hesitate to be cruel in retaliation. She can talk people into things and her charisma can get her out of sticky situations.
Background Bex is originally from my show @thebonnevillegame, but think of this as a multiverse situation. This is what would happen if she were born in Faerûn as a tiefling. Not to worry, there are not spoilers for Bonneville here.
Bex was born in Baldur’s Gate. Her family is, unfortunately, well known for being plagued by drama and heartache. She’s the bastard child of Garrick, a half-elf carpenter, and Sharon “Sauci”, a tiefling barmaid. Sauci believed that, if she got pregnant, Garrick would stay with her and they would live happily ever after. He didn’t.
Sauci was left to raise Bex alone, but she didn’t have much interest in being a mother. So, Bex spent most of her childhood taking care of herself.
There is more to her backstory, but I can’t reveal much else. It mirrors her backstory in The Bonneville Game a bit too closely. But she did start running with the wrong crowd and it would eventually bite her in the ass. She was also betrayed by someone she trusted and loved very dearly.
But prior to getting a tadpole in her head, she was working as a cook in Baldur’s gate.
Likes: Money, cooking, baking, discovering new foods and recipes, animals, working out, being outside, collecting cookbooks, and reading
Dislikes: Most authority figures, debt collectors, working directly with customers, large crowds, and being seen as “soft”
Fears: She’s afraid of losing her freedom and losing herself. She believes she deserves every bad thing that’s come her way, but it still scares her. 
Quirks: Bex doesn’t usually bother to remember names at first. She gives nicknames or identifies people by specific quirks they have. I.E. If someone likes grilled cheese and pickles, she might refer to them as Pickles.
Once she thinks you’re sticking around in her life, she’ll remember your actual name. She’s too used to people coming in and out to let herself get attached too quickly.
Astarion: Knives Gale: Rocky (she found him in a rock) Wyll: The Hero or just Hero Lae’zel: Green Bean (how she survived being killed by Lae’zel, we’ll never know) Shadowheart: Shady Halsin: The second she found out he’s called Daddy Halsin, she grabbed onto that and refused to let go. Karlach: Firestarter
Mental Health:  Bex has a wall up. She has been hurt by various people in her life. She struggles to let people get to know the real her. She has an easier time helping people with their problems. It distracts her from her own and it means people ask less questions about her. She’s terrified of falling in love due to past trauma which means Astarion is trouble for her. 
Halsin is less scary to her, at first, due to assuming he’s just a horn dog.
Favorite Foods: Homemade Bread, Potato Scones, Brownies, Macarons, and Paella
Favorite Drinks: Coffee and Mermaid Whiskey
Favorite Flower: Poppies and Selûne’s Tear
Height:  5’6”/ 167.64 cm 
Skin: As a Tiefling (she’s a human in her OG story), she has pink skin.
Hair:  Her hair is a brighter pink, contrasting with her skin. (In her original story, she does dye her hair pink. In BG3, it naturally is.)
Eyes:  Demonic Orange.
Color Scheme:  As a pink being, she tries to find colors that complement her tone. Sometimes she defaults to black, brown, or grey just to avoid accessorizing. However, she’s a fan of blues, teal, and sage. She doesn’t like to dress in too much gold, but she thinks it makes for a nice trim on clothing.
Fashion Sense: She shifts between lazy and all dolled up when getting dressed. Some days she will just throw on whatever is in arm’s reach. Other days, she takes time for her makeup and clothing. When she knows she has a full day of cooking ahead, she prioritizes efficiency and comfort above all.
Family: 
William “Will” McQuoid Bex barely knows her father and they haven’t interacted very much. He has quite an extensive criminal history that dates back to when he was 14. He’s gotten in trouble for fights, drugs, robbery, assault (including assault at a funeral), and a number of petty offenses. He’s a violent person, but he’s good at coming across as friendly when you first meet him. 
Sharon “Sauci” McNamara Sauci is a terrible mother who is more focused on herself than her kids. She only had Bex because she believed it would make her father stay. When it didn’t, Sauci lost interest in her. She’s even been known to try to flirt with the people her daughter is dating.
Siblings Who even knows what’s going on there. Sauci only has one child, but Will has no idea how many he might have.
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thesolemnhour · 11 months
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things don’t make bad scenes (people do)
For the “Why does your knight commander love their LI?” prompt that has been circulating, which I took too seriously. Title from the We Shall All Be Healed album website.
Length: 2700 words (😬)
It has been a month since she closed the Worldwound, and Agria Lebeda sleeps better than she has in years. Perhaps it’s the relief of finally accomplishing what she had set out to do, but more likely, she owes the improvement to the tiefling sleeping blissfully beside her. It is an incredible thing, being in love. And it’s true that she still can’t compete with Woljif when it comes to sleeping in, but that just means she gets to spend a few minutes tracing his features, relaxed in sleep.
There’s very little to warrant such an early start now, but change is hard; she had been going non-stop since Iz, and the transition into peacetime is taking longer than she hoped. With a small measure of defeat, she reluctantly pulls herself loose from the warmth of her bed and consigns herself to starting the day.
Luckily, Woljif can sleep through almost anything. She presses a kiss lightly to his brow before pulling a robe over her nightclothes. She thinks about picking up her staff from where it sits propped up near the door but—no, she thinks she can go without it. Her leg has been better lately, and she resolves that she can manage.
Wandering downstairs, she notes absently that someone—a courier, perhaps?—is standing near the doorway, but she ignores them in favor of starting a pot of coffee, the only addiction of hers that she will still allow quarter.
The courier clears his throat, and Agria concedes that it is possible that he may indeed have something important to say.
“Be with you in just a moment!” She calls over her shoulder, cringing slightly at the scratchiness of her voice. Armed with caffeine, she takes a few steps back into the entryway before she stops dead in her tracks.
Before her, looking no different than the last time she saw him some five years ago, stands Viktor Lebeda. Her father, although it feels odd to think of him like that now.
She freezes. Blinks in astonishment. She takes a breath, readying herself to say—something, but she stops, still holding her breath. Finally, her expression sides away into boredom: “I didn’t invite you here.”
“No,” says Viktor pointedly, “you didn’t.”
As ever, what her father doesn’t say is more important than what he does. Most children, she imagines, would have invited their last living parent to visit the place of their great triumph, but they are not most families.
“Well,” she begins, turning her back to him again as she stirs sugar into her coffee, “I’m very busy, and you’ll have take whatever it is that you’re here for up with Irabeth.”
“I’m afraid that I have questions that Commander Tirabade won’t have answers to.”
“Then perhaps you should have written ahead.”
“I did.” Had he? Maybe it would’ve been wise to have read those letters marked with the swan-shaped seal of House Lebeda before tossing them into the fireplace after all. Then again… “Agria. I am here for you.”
“Here for me?” Agria scoffs. “Now? You didn’t come after we first took Drezen. You didn’t come after we returned from Alushinyrra. You certainly didn’t come after—“ After I broke my leg all those years ago. But Agria will be damned if she says those words aloud. She won’t ask that question, no matter how obliquely. “But you’re needed to see me now? Honesty would carry you farther.”
His face remains placid, giving no emotion away. It’s her least favorite expression of his. “I did not think that you would have me.”
“I’m not having you now.”
“Commander,” he tries again. The appeal to authority is interesting at least. “I would like very much to speak with you. It is important, and time is short.”
“Hm. A terrible shame. I am afraid, however, that I have an engagement with the chieftain of Neathholm this morning. He is a very punctual person and would take my absence personally. Perhaps I shall see you in the afternoon then.”
After ascending the stairs at a near-jog, Agria closes her bedroom door behind her as gently as she can, conscious not to wake her lover. She rests her head against the sturdy wood for a moment, steadying herself.
“Coming back to bed?” Woljif asks hopefully, his words slurring slightly as he rubs his eyes.
“I am afraid not,” she says, brows drawn together as she begins to fix her hair.
“What’s going on?”
She feels the old pull to lie, to talk about anything else. But it’s Woljif. “I have… an uninvited guest.”
In the mirror, she spies him leaning up on his elbows to get a better look at her face, which remains expressionless.
“Who’s the guy?”
Taking a deep breath, Agria answers, “My father.”
Now, Woljif sits up, wide awake. “Really? He just showed up? Do nobles even do that?”
“Not often,” she says faintly.
Woljif pauses for a moment, frowning. “You know where this wouldn’t happen?”
Agria smiles: he is determined to travel now that the Worldwound is behind them. And not somewhere for work, he insisted. Somewhere actually nice. With warm weather! She suspects he is naming increasingly exotic locales just to drive up the bargain.
“Absalom? Or maybe Oppara?”
“Solku!”
Agria giggles, turning to look at him directly while she finishes the buttons on her vest. “In Garund? You don’t want to go all the way to Garund! You can’t operate an orphanage from the next continent over.”
“No,” he concedes, “but it made you laugh.”
Oh, she loves him.
“I’ll make you a deal,” says Agria, pressing her forehead to his. “Wait long enough to meet my aunt, and I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go. So long as we keep it to the inner sea region.”
He steals a kiss, soft and quick. “You drive a hard bargain, chief, but I’m ready to quit while I’m ahead.”
When the afternoon rolls around, Agria realizes that she felt less anxious before storming the Threshold. But like any battle, it’s about managing one’s advantages. She chooses to pitch the encounter in Drezen’s gardens—Arueshalae’s brilliant idea to celebrate the victory and a place where Agria feels most invincible.
She leaves her staff, though her leg complains.
She wasn’t sure he would wait: he was considered an important man in Brevoy now, indispensable to Lebedas and Surtovas alike. It feels odd, being here with him like this. Like she has slipped into the skin of an Agria of years past.
“Well, then. If you’re not going to tell me what you’re really here for, I suppose I shall have to guess.” Agria declares, as the two of them walk. “Whatever it is, no one is talking about it yet. Someone would have told me, so you must be hoping I can head whatever it is off before it goes public.”
“Is that so?” Asks Viktor, again impassive. Quietly, it makes her furious.
“So I should think. It can’t be within the family; you would never have come to me if it were. You must be hoping that I—in my renewed popularity—can dig House Lebeda out from whatever hole it has found itself in. So! That only leaves a few options: I can’t imagine you would come all the way here to appease the Medvyeds of all people. Nor the Garesses. That only leaves Houses Orlovsky… or Surtova.”
What a catastrophe that would be if they had truly lost the confidence of the Surtovas. It would be the death of Viktor’s life’s work. All those years the two of them spent in New Stetven—her studying and him maneuvering—it would all have been for nothing.
At last, he stops walking. He shakes his head as though it could expel the thoughts there. Looking down at her, he looks older than she has ever seen him. It’s almost startling. “It’s about your cousin’s engagement.”
It can only be Elanna, who has been circling an engagement with King Noleski Surtova for Pharasma knows how long. But Agria has no obligation to be a good sport about this. Folding her hands behind her back and tilting her head innocently, she asks, “Which cousin? I have twelve.”
How Viktor Lebeda scowls. It’s an expression she recognizes in the mirror. Agria tastes satisfaction. Pushing her advantage, she decides to set a trap. “I have a boyfriend. You may have heard.”
Let him brush her off with a dismissive comment about her tiefling lover. Let him tell her how little he cares about her personal life when the family reputation is in danger. Let him give her a reason to finally be rid of him for good.
Instead, the corners of Viktor’s lips quirk upwards. “I have. He’s the boy from Kenabres, isn’t he?”
“He’s been with me from the beginning.”
“I suppose he has,” he says. His phantom smile drifts into something stronger as he looks over at her. “I have to admit: it’s—odd, to think of you and… boys.”
“I’m not sure how. I haven’t been a child in a long time.” And who is to thank for that?
“No, of course, you’re right. But you’ve always been so... focused. It’s funny to think that you made room for anything else.”
It strikes a sour chord with her. Whose fault was it, after all, that there had been so space to spare? “I owe that to you.”
“I suppose you do,” he says thoughtfully. “Do you remember the first thing I ever taught you?”
She does.
“You taught me how to control flame,” she recalls. “It was after I set one of the tapestries on fire—the one with the little blue bird in the corner. He always looked so—cheerful, I suppose. So pleased that you looked long enough to find him. That one was my favorite.”
Mother had made the tapestry, of course, and all the others in the little house outside of Restov--but it feels wrong to mention her now. Here. Things had been different then: they hadn’t had the kind of capital needed to keep a real staff, certainly not like the one their cousins had in Silverhall. It had just been the three of them.
Viktor senses the mood that has fallen across the two of them like a shroud, and he too knows better than to say her mother’s name. “It was my favorite, too.”
He had been a busy man then as he was now, ever setting off for the family seat or the capitol. Getting his attention had been no small feat, but Mother’s needlework had been like her second child. All agreed that works of such beauty were worthy of protection.
Her father had sat across from her on the floor of the living room holding her hands between her. His face had been soft, then, his eyes crinkling with his smile. You have to picture the flame in your mind, imagine it doing as you ask it to, he explained. Ask it nicely enough, and the magic will do as you say. He was right—she never set anything on fire without meaning it again. They had been young, then, and the future had looked bright.
What happened to us?
“What is he like?”
She can’t smother the smile. “Funny. Smart. Stars, he’s smart. You should see him balance a checkbook—that’s a magic of its own.”
Instinct tells her to stop talking, to give him no more than she must, but what does she have to be afraid of anymore?
“I thought it had to be hard. Miserable, even. I thought if I didn’t have to suffer for it… then it wasn’t love, not really.  There’s nothing to be gained in life without pain, as they say. I was so afraid that it would all evaporate as soon as things started to go wrong.”
It had been the only way the story ever ended. Her father certainly hadn’t been the only one to stop speaking to her after her great unraveling. She had always been excellent at driving people away.
“But…?”
“But it didn’t. He doesn’t ask for things it would hurt me to give. It feels… safe. Like it’s just us, and there’s no reason to be afraid. When we got back from the Abyss… We learned that someone would have to die if we wanted to close the Wound. We thought that it would have to be me.
“He had nothing when we met, just his smarts and the clothes on his back. The crusade was his way out, maybe his one chance. And he offered to leave it! For me. He wanted to set out for the River Kingdoms, and just… be the two of us. No money, no titles. I didn’t… I didn’t know it could be like that.”
“Why didn’t you go?”
“Because I’m me.” She laughs. “I always want just a little more. I wanted them both, him and Sarkoris.” And her gardens in Drezen and his orphanage in Kenabres. She wants them all.
When she glances at her father, his eyes are sad. She is sad for him.
“I missed you,” he says. She thinks he means it.
She only nods in the face of his sincerity; Agria, Lushbringer and hero of the Fifth Crusade, is much easier to miss than the Agria of New Stetven. It changes so very little, and Agria knows how this works. “About Elanna… I promise nothing. You haven’t yet made any specific requests. But if I do—then I would expect the same for the Sarkorians in Lebeda territory, should they decide to return here.”
Once more, the corners of his mouth turn up into a faint smile, saying all he refuses to say out loud.
Woljif stand waiting for her where she hoped she could find him at the foot of the citadel. What’s more, he’s idly spinning her beloved Staff of Flowers as he waits. Tapping it lightly on the ground, a delicate little purple-blue wildflower sprouts from the staff’s tip. Cornflower, she thinks with her first true smile of the day.
“Forget something?” He asks when he catches sight of her, plucking the flower and hold her staff out to her.
“No,” she says ruefully, taking it back. She already feels better with its weight in her hand. Or maybe that’s just Woljif’s presence. “I was doing something foolish.”
“You? Never!”
“Yeah, yeah. I thought it would make a point.” She reaches forward to pull him closer, playing absentmindedly with the buttons of his shirt.
“Did it?” He asks, tucking the cornflower behind her ear.
“Eh,” says Agria. She’s not sure, but it did feel good in the moment. Continuing to fuss with the front of shirt, she finds a silver chain holding an empty delicate setting. “Have you thought about what you might put in here?”
“Dunno yet. Maybe something red,” he says as he twirls an auburn curl around his index finger. She can’t hold back her laugh. Looking over her shoulder at the back of the man who was her father, he asks, “Was that—?”
“Yes,” she answers abruptly, “but I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”
Woljif’s brows draw together in concern, but he hums in acceptance. “You know he kinda looks like you?”
“No, he does not!” It can be hard to tell with aasimars, but Agria far more closely resembles her mother. She has her eye shape and upturned nose. No one has ever accused her of looking like her father’s daughter.
“He does! Not in the face really—well, he does when you look like that—but he walks like you do, like you’ve got somewhere important to be. I’d’ve never tried for one of your wallets.”
“You would have missed out, then. He doesn’t really look where he’s walking either.”
“Maybe not, but can you imagine the chewing out I would’ve been in for if one of you had caught me? Believe me, it’s better this way.”
“I would like you to know that I am more upset with you right now than I was after Drezen.” Agria says, removing her hands from him to cross her arms archly.
“Nah,” says Woljif, poking her lightly in a spot where he knows she’s ticklish. “You love me.”
She really does.
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