#Winding Moonrise
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Winding Moonrise - Complicated Reunions
[master post]
[continues from part 11. Let's just pretend it hasn't been over 3 years since I posted a ficlet in this series. Warning this has a flashback inside of a flashback ]
Wei Wuxian says, "Time to head home."
"May we speak in private?" Lan Wangji asks, catching Wei Wuxian's wrist. He casts a silent warning toward Lan Jingyi who in turn mimes covering his ears.
Wei Wuxian nods.
The two walk into the cavern opening.
"Why are you reluctant?" he questions.
He holds no rights to Wei Wuxian's confidence, but he must ask. He can't imagine why Wei Wuxian says the last word as if it has no place on his tongue, as if the word holds no association with him, as if he is alone. His heart aches. All he wants is to take Wei Wuxian in his arms and shelter him in an embrace.
Wei Wuxian smiles, awkwardly.
"Certainly the Jiangs would celebrate your return," he adds, stomping down on the urge to pamper Wei Wuxian.
A decade has passed, certainly he must miss his residence. Wei Wuxian spoke so fondly of Yunmeng that Lan Wangji wanted to spirit him there last night.
Wei Wuxian's smiles more broadly. Jiang Cheng's accusing voice rings in his ears alongside the pleas of the dead from memory that refuses to fade.
"Let's go!" Jiang Cheng shouted.
The wards around them screamed. Danger marched in front of them. In the distance is a howl of wolves.
Wei Wuxian stilled and glanced toward the cavern behind him.
"We won't get to them in time." He frowned, but when did Jiang Cheng not have a scowl.
He jested, "When did you become a coward? I'll go alone."
He means it.
Jiang Cheng's jaw ticked. "You have a death wish. They're Wens."
"They sheltered us."
He bobbed his head as if conflicted, but eventually he nodded.
Pulling his thoughts to the present, Wei Wuxian says, "In-house problems."
"Oh."
He smacks Lan Wangji's chest. "Don't worry, every household has them."
Lan Wangji has certainly had his share of those, pleading with his shufu every day for three years. Yet never once would he have believed that his shufu would be glad for his absence. His view of Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli drops several degrees.
His heart aches at Wei Wuxian’s trepidation and it nearly breaks at the line he’s drawn between them. ‘Family matters’ is a boundary that can only be crossed by a select few to do so, when their relationship can only be described as former classmates and friends, is overstepping. It had never been his place to pry; although he had dreamed of one day being Wei Wuxian’s closest confidant and sharing all the joys and pains of life with him, at the moment it will be difficult to even claim that they are more than just acquaintances after thirteen years of separation.
His personal opinion of the current Jiang family head aside, at the very least, he can take solace in the fact that in this upcoming reunion he will be by Wei Wuxian side.
*
If he had been struck with lightning from clear skies, Jiang Cheng would be less surprised than he is currently spying his former sworn brother standing beside Lan Wangji.
“Long time no see,” he says as if they had separated under anything remotely approaching normal conditions.
A tornado of emotions strikes him. It’s like he’s back in that hospital bed surrounded by incessantly beeping machines. His da-jie held onto him as if she’s afraid he’d be spirited away. Day and night half a dozen people came and asked him questions he couldn't answer.
He’s no fool. He certainly cannot explain that he’s been decimating six generations of the Wen clan the last few years for burning down all his relatives except for his sister. That bloodsucking fiancee of hers had been good for one thing apparently.
The one that infuriates him the most is about the person missing from his side. Although days have passed, he can still feel where his supposedly loyal servant struck. It wasn’t that he was heartless. It was one thing to turn over every stone and blade of grass to avenge his family, it was another to face-off against the clandestine world for the remnants of a family that had destroyed everyone he cared about when he couldn’t imagine any reasonable chance of them succeeding. He must survive as the final heir of his family.
He clenched his fists. He can’t even ask the idiot if it was worth it. Did you enjoy playing the hero? You’re just bone and ash! Look at all these rumors, all people will ever know is these rumors that you’re a madman.
Seeing the man that haunts his nightmares waving so nonchalantly at him, Jiang Cheng can’t help it. The emotions overwhelm him and taking control of his tongue brings him to growl: “So you didn’t die in a gutter.”
Wei Wuxian scratches his cheek. What can he say?
Jiang Cheng has every reason to resent him. It’s funny he thinks in hindsight that the one time that he did something Madam Yu would be proud of is also the first time he betrayed his closest friend. It’s not like there was a point to him telling Jiang Cheng that he had already used his life-saving time to send A-Yuan far away and it wasn’t as if he was going to ask Jiang Cheng to court death with him.
There was no reason to say that he had died. He still recalls the endless, inky black of the other side, and that alluring voice asking if he wanted to take vengeance on the world.
Before this touching reunion can continue, if one could call this a reunion, Lan Wangji steps between these sworn brothers. The blase tone in which Jiang Cheng delivered those callous words drives Lan Wangji to see red. How could someone speak of a friend like that? How dare someone speak of his precious moon’s like he was hindrance?
He growls: “Apologize.”
“Who are you to demand that?”
“His friend,” he says, but he really wants to challenge Jiang Cheng to a duel to protect his beloved’s honor.
Jiang Cheng’s gaze flickers between them, and he scoffs.
“My advice is to pick better friends.”
“There is no one more worthy of attention,” Lan Wangji says, glaring. He has cultivated too well for such provocation to raise his hackles and summon his fangs. It is Jiang Cheng’s blessing that he’s too respectable to maul someone.
Those words shock Wei Wuxian more than the fact that Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji are now exchanging blows. He hadn’t expected a warm welcome after what he had done. Jiang Cheng has too much pride for that — that he hadn’t chased Wei Wuxian was a sign that he was malleable. This is the rudest he’s ever seen Lan Wangji. What had Jiang Cheng done in the last decade for Lan Wangji to be so bold?
In all of Wei Wuxian’s wildest imaginations, he could not even begin to think that the source was him. That was not the first time that Lan Wangji had blatantly shown his distaste.
It was breaking into his fourth year in a world absent from his moon, not long after the three year period had spent howling at the moon with only his melancholy for company. Since he was the type to count it was exactly 4 years and 2 months and 28 days from Wei Wuxian’s disappearance when news of the missing Jiang heir’s re-appearance had spread like wildfire through society, so that someone who had secluded themselves as Lan Wangji still heard it.
Although it was unbecoming of him, he used his connections to determine which hospital, which room, and tracked down Jiang Cheng’s location. If there was any chance he could recover his heart, he would turn over any stone and drag his own name through the dirt.
Not that he needed to go so far, an inquiry from such a renown family brought the information to him easily enough. All he had to do was ask and he found himself outside of a private room.
There was a hollow ache in his chest as he scanned the ward, only to find Jiang Cheng staring back incredulously. Of course the heir of an illustrious family did not share a room. In his rush, he asked: “Where is Wei—”
“How should I know?” Jiang Cheng said. “Whether I know or not, why is it any of your business?”
“He is my friend,” he said, but really wanted to shout because ‘my heart has left my chest and is wandering out of sight’.
Jiang Cheng hissed, “Well, I’d be surprised if he wasn’t just ash now.”
At the same time his heart sank, his blood boiled at the off-the-cuff remark. Logically, he’s aware that people handle death in different ways but anyone deserved better than for their death to be spoken about like that. It wasn’t as if Wei Wuxian was a stray that the Jiang family had picked up that had finally wandered off.
He can be forgiven for growling: “He deserved better than you.”
“What do you know!”
Before their disagreement could come to a boil, the blaring cacophony of machinery called over nurses, who chased Lan Wangji out for upsetting a patient.
To this day, Lan Wangji cannot bring himself to regret antagonizing a patient. After all, his moon deserves the sky and the stars when it seems that all he ever received from others seemed to not even reach the horizon.
If he was capable of reading Wei Wuxian’s mind now, he wouldn’t say this but it had always been Wei Wuxian for him. It has always been true that he never liked Jiang Cheng and that Lan Wangji’s dislike for Jiang Cheng had always sprouted from the fact that that place beside Wei Wuxian had naturally belonged to someone other than him. Despite all of his training, Lan Wangji was merely a wolf yearning for his moon, so he cannot be blamed for finding fault with Jiang Cheng now.
#Winding Moonrise#Wangxian#MDZS#wick writes#In case it wasn't clear the event that's reference is an alternate version of the Bloodbath at the Night + destruction of the Burial Mounds#I found like half of this in my drafts and wrote the other half#In my original idea 3 years ago I think this was supposed to be a flashback inside of a fshback inside of a flashback#Yes ao3's ddos attack had me shaking my WIPs for stuff I could still write and post w/o ao3
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Jonathan Harker describing scenery: A lush of vibrant evergreens surrounds me, as the brisk evening breeze lulls my nerves and gladdens my heart. The moonrise beacons the nightfall, making my senses swim in a sea of wonders.
Mina Murray describing scenery: On your right you can see a winding road leading to the ancient mansion. They buried a girl in the walls. On your left you can see the beautiful old town. Vikings killed everyone there centuries ago. These ruins date from the fifteenth century. A white ghost can be seen by the window at night. Up this lovely hill you can gaze at the ocean. It's said mourning bells can be heard from the horizon, a dirge for lost ships.
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b. barnes // 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓉ℯ 𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽ℴℴ𝒹.
bucky barnes × (femme) reader.
summary: ❝to keep your small village protected from would-be attackers, presented omegas must be sacrificed to the mysterious alpha in the woods.❞
genre: ⚠ dark and adult content below. minors, dni.
warnings: non-con, non-con touching, non-con kissing, dub-con, dub-con touching, dub-con kissing, smut, unprotected sex, hunting/stalking, a/b/o themes, forced bonding, loss of virginity, canon violence, physical violence, mentions of blood and human sacrifice, and strong language. 18+ content. minors, dni.
word count: 3,514
note: this story contains adult and dark themes. please, do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! i am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. you have been warned. *all grammatical mistakes are my own, not proofread.
*an: if you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help! i do not condone any of the actions described in this story, this is a work of fiction.
A cold wind blew in from the north, making the trees rustle like living things. It was growing colder with every passing day as winter began its arrival. Yule had transformed the fiery hues of autumn twilight to sparkled, frosted mornings and bitter winds. You went to the window. A fine glimmer of glossy frost formed intricate swirls on the glass, as sparkling snow softened the outside world into one flurry.
You looked on as the pale, cold light of winter moonrise illuminated your village as the townsfolk worked under the stars to prepare for the Winter Solstice. You couldn’t help but frown as you watched them place green garland on the fringes of rooftops, and light candles that led into the dark forest, in the shape of carved wolves. This time last winter, you were home with your family; sitting fireside as you and your younger siblings drank sweetened milk and almond honeyed toast. Life had been colorful, full of vibrant greens, warm reds, and soft dusky blues. Now, it was nothing but a black and white night of frost that crawled along the dark outline of barren trees and twig branches. Snowflakes swirled down gently in the ghostly moonlight, and iced shadows crept along the December ground.
“(Y/N)?” a small voice called out from behind.
You turned as Gervaise came to stand next to you, peering out at the snowfall that drifted against the window. Gervaise had been your closest friend since childhood, she had been a plump girl in her youth, but now she was the most beautiful woman in your village. She had long legs that complemented her slender figure, golden hair that shone under sunlight, and azure eyes as blue and clear as the sky itself.
She shivered against the winter-cold that seeped into your bones as she neared the frosted windowpane, “Aren’t you cold?” she asked.
You scoffed, “Warmer than I would be out there.”
Truth be told, you were burning from the inside out. A sheen sweat had started to form between your breasts and all of your folds and creases. Gervaise scooted closer and you unthinkingly flinched away, her heat was rolling off of her in waves and the strong scent of her made you lightheaded as tangs of jasmine, rose, and orange blossom overwhelmed your senses.
You moved away as you looked into the room you were being kept in. Women close in age all slept soundly with soft snores, their heated scents interlacing with one another to form a jumbled mess of musk, amber, bergamot, and warm sugar. It was a synchronous heat amongst the presented Omegas in preparations for the village’s annual sacrificial solstice to the White Wolf.
Gervaise nudged your shoulder teasingly, “It won’t be so bad tomorrow, (Y/N),” she tried.
You rolled your eyes, “We’re being sacrificed, Gervaise! How can it not be so bad?”
Her small smile fell as the weighted truth of your words settled on her shoulders, “I’m sorry… I was just trying to make light of it all.”
“I know,” you sighed, “You can’t make light of this, there’s too much darkness.”
You awoke hours later to the soft murmurs of falling tears as mothers dressed their daughters in traditional white hoods. White, the color of purity, innocence. You scoffed–the virgin’s color. Your own mother came to your bedside, a hood in hand and an expectant look in her eyes. You rubbed your cold feet together and reluctantly dressed.
“It’s not as bad as it seems, my love,” she spoke as she combed your hair.
You looked at the other Omegas in the room, most of whom you’ve grown up with. Idony, Meliora, and Sabine. You teared. You and your siblings used to play with Sabine as children. Idony taught you to weave dolls out of straw and vines. And you and Meliora would harvest wild strawberries together in early summer after long hours at the lake. The thought of never seeing either of them after today was heart-wrenching.
Your mother placed the hood over your head and tucked away stray hairs behind your ears as she took one last, tearful, look at you. She placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and took your hands in hers, pressing a small vial against your palms.
“Put this on once you’re away from the others,” she whispered against your hair, “It’ll hide your scent for a short time, then make your way across the stream, you’ll be safe there until the ceremony is over.”
Before you could ask more, the village mayor entered and ordered you and the other Omegas out into the square. The ceremony had officially begun.
Gervaise squeezed your hand as the mayor lit the great Yule log, the candles sculpted as white wolves. You looked around; Idony was pale in the face, Meliora shed silent tears as she held her hands in prayer, and Sabine’s chest rose and fell in shallow, frightened breaths. You held the vial tight in your hand as you stood stoic; though your pounding heart told another story.
The bells of the church began to toll as midnight quickly approached. The first toll the mayor led you all down the candlelit path that led into the mouth of the forest, the second toll you and the other Omegas were left alone as the full moon shone down on you from above, the third toll was followed by an echoed howl and the beats of your feet as you all ran through the thicket.
You ran and ran until it was only you, the full moon, and the trees. You stopped to rest against a frosted tree, your lungs burned with biting ice as you panted; your breaths coming out as vapored clouds that wisped around your head. You quickly took the vial and rubbed the liquid over your scent glands. The synthetic scent of cracked pepper, spiced ginger, decayed pear, and rotting leaves all toiled together to mask your natural, sweet and warm odor. You took a moment to calm your beating heart and collect your thoughts before bolting through the treeline. You needed to find Gervaise before the perfume wore off.
Bucky watched from the shadows as he tracked a pretty, golden-haired Omega. Her scent wasn’t unpleasant, but it didn’t ignite a fire deep within his groin, either. He followed the floral scent trail of this next best woman as she wandered aimlessly through the dense grove of pine. The woman’s face was rosy and tear-stained as the cold bit her cheeks and nose. It was pathetic, really. How she sniffled and hiccupped as she held herself against the winter winds or when she tripped and slipped over iced snowdrifts. Bucky was about to make his move when a sweet scent, carried on an icy breeze, caught his attention. The blood in his veins burst into flames as a deep desire awoke in him. Primal lust took over as he abandoned his former prey to hunt for the next. He bounded through the woods, ducking under long branches, and leaping across overgrown oak roots. It was the wildness of it that sent Bucky into a feral frenzy, in all of his years protecting this paltry village, he’d never scented anything as sweet and enthralling as this. Spun sugar, vanilla bean, patchouli, and white pumpkin with caramel glaze. His teeth ached as he took in the sweetness of your scent.
When Bucky finally found you, you were breathless and flushed with heat. Your hand on your stomach as a wave of tightness in your belly coiled and coiled. He scented the air, then. Groaning as he caught wind of your musky-sweet tang. The front of his buckskin breeches tightened uncomfortably as his rut took hold of his body. He wanted you, so he’d have you.
You whimpered as your cramps inflamed your insides. You were on fire, despite the bitter winter cold. You shed your wolf pelt that hung over your shoulders and loosened the front laces of your bodice, as you slumped against the nearest tree and focused on slowing your racing heart. The faster you calmed down, the faster you’d be able to find Gervaise and get across that damned stream to safety.
Just as your heart began to slow, a heady scent brought on iced winds set it back into panicked motion. An amber woody fragrance, with nutmeg, vanilla, and sandalwood ensnared your forebrain. You were frozen, scared like a hunted doe as you took in the masculine scent that seemed to scream “Alpha”.
Bucky watched as you looked around, trying to pinpoint his hiding spot. His heart skipped a beat in excitement as you took off into the thicket, leaving your pelt behind on the snowy ground. He chased you, then. Too focused on the hunt to worry about cornering you, too focused on you. He’d chase you down until you fainted from exhaustion if he had to.
You were faster than he expected, more agile and hellbent on escaping him than you had appeared to be. He felt an odd sense of pride as he watched you nimbly dodge and duck under and over every branch and uprooted oak that came into your way. But Bucky had the advantage, this was his territory, not yours. He knew his hunting grounds, not you. So when you came to a skidded stop at a broken bridge, he wasn’t the least bit surprised. But what did surprise him was the little snarl that left you before you broke away from him once more.
You ran and ran until your feet were numb with cold and your lungs frosted over with every breath you took. He was close, too close, and you were forced to abandon the plan on crossing the stream to safety. Gods–you didn’t even know where you were anymore. You could be going in circles and you’d be none the wiser, everything looked the same in this untouched part of the wood. You berated yourself for straying from the path, now you were lost, alone, and being hunted. You began to cry as you thought of your fate, you didn’t want to be sacrificed, you just wanted to go home back to your family. Back to your life.
You were ready to give up, your feet were tired, legs weakened, and your chest burned from the cold. You fell to your knees and looked up to the full moon, exhaustion taking over your thoughts. You were desperate and didn’t have the energy to be surprised at yourself when you began to pray to the moon above.
“Gods above… Please, please, let me live and I’ll devote myself to you. My heart, mind, soul, and body, please,” you prayed.
Just as you were about to laugh at yourself for your foolishness, a flickering candlelight in the nearby distance caught your eye. You mindlessly followed the light that pierced through the dense darkness of night, like a moth to a flame. As you got closer, you saw the lantern-light belonged to a small cottage fringed with winterberries and garland. You were uplifted as you believed the gods had answered your prayer. Without a second thought, your feet began to move on their own through the snow as you raced toward the home. You knocked once, then twice, then thrice. When there was no answer, you apologized to whatever being had heard you pray, before turning the brass doorknob and welcoming yourself inside.
The warmth of a crackling fire embraced you posthaste as you closed the door behind you. You made your way to the fireplace, rubbing your hands over the flame as you warmed yourself. The house was eerily silent as you looked around. You saw the carved candles from your village on the mantelpiece, vases of starry blue, pale pink, and white glory of the snow, and bright yellow winter jasmine were placed on the tabletops, and garland with holly flowers was wrapped around the railing of a small staircase that led upstairs. You made your way up the stairs as curiosity led you on. You called out for the owner of the home once again as you reached the top, but to no avail; the house was empty.
You crept along the creaking floorboards into a small room, illuminated by a single lantern with frosted glass windows. You explored the room. There was a bed, with an oak headboard, and thick, grey, and brown wolf and bear pelts. You sat down on the edge of the bed with a soft bounce as you rested your tired feet. Ahead of you was a wooden chest with intricate images of Yule logs, goats, and boars. Something deep within your gut urges you to go to it, to open it, and look upon its secrets; but the feeling made you uneasy, it made you afraid of what you’d find.
But you knew better than to ignore your gut, so you went to it, opened it, and looked upon its secrets. You nearly screamed as you pulled forth white hood, after white hood, after white hood. Your hands shook as you emptied the chest, white hoods covered the ground like the snow outside. There were more hoods than you could count, most of them much older than you. You sobbed as you slammed the chest shut, too focused on the white hoods before you to notice the slithering notes of amber, nutmeg, vanilla, and sandalwood that now threatened to constrict, and swallow you whole.
Your body sensed him before your mind did, your hairs stood on end, and your core tightened with primal, animalistic want. You only recognized his imposing presence after it was too late. Your throat dried as you slowly turned around to face the Alpha from the woods. He stood in the doorway, shirtless and steaming, as his heat fought against the cold of winter. To say he was big, would be an understatement. He was wordless as he strode toward you with an urgency driven by desire. You shuffled away, sobbing as he quickly crawled atop of you, trapping you beneath him. You fought against him, slapping and scratching his chest and face as he buried his face in your neck. Deeply inhaling your sickly sweet scent.
“I wonder if you taste as sweet as you smell, ‘Mega,” he said as he nipped the lobe of your ear.
Your heart dropped as he ripped at your bodice like an animal, tossing the ruined fabric aside as he bared your breasts to the air. The Alpha brushed his lips against your neck, your jaw, and mouth as he tasted you. You had never been kissed before, the feeling of it all was foreign as you felt his tongue explore your mouth. You squirmed as he palmed your breast, his thumb flicking and pinching over your sensitive nipple. Bucky let out a low snarl of disapproval as you tried to wriggle away from him, and when you ignored his warning, he bit down on your nipple. You yelped and beat against his back, clawing and punching as you flailed and thrashed. In your struggle you managed to slip out from underneath his body. Then, it was a desperate fight of him dragging you by your ankles, and you kicking wildly and blindly. With luck you landed a strong kick to his face that bloodied his nose. You ran, then. Practically flying down the flight of stairs as you made a beeline for the front door–to your freedom. You felt the cold snow on your toes as one foot met the icy ground, but the other foot was caught.
You fell on your face as Bucky dragged you back into his house. Blood stained his face and a dangerous fire was reflected in his blue eyes. He took you by your neck and forced you down onto the staircase, entrapping you under his weight. Your legs kicked out as he forced himself between your thighs, he snarled again, keeping a tight grip on the back of your neck. He ripped away the remaining pieces of your clothes, ridding you of the white garments, of your innocence, your purity.
He lifted your hips and placed a strong hand on your back, forcing you into an arch. You yipped as you felt a wet warmth lick up your sex. You tried to curl away, but his grip on you was strong and firm. A heat bloomed within your gut as Bucky dipped his tongue between your wet folds, fucking you with his hot tongue. Your brain hazed over as he stroked and rubbed your sweet spot of concentrated pleasure with his thumb. He was devouring you, and you felt your resolve melt away with every delicious flick and swipe of his tongue. You moaned and allowed yourself to arch into his mouth, desperately seeking more pleasure. You ground your cunt on his face and moaned at the feeling of him tightly gripping your hips as he gave you what you wanted–needed.
You clawed at the stairs beneath you as your voice grew shrill, the coil in your belly was beginning to unravel with every lick. Bucky felt you stiffen as he brought you to the edge of your pleasure, he sank his tongue deep inside you until he finally felt you shudder hard against him. You cried out as you came on his tongue, pure white fire ignited in your veins, consuming your thoughts, and burning away any fight you had left. The aftershocks of your pleasure left you shaking and wanting.
Without warning, Bucky buried his thick length in you with one hard stroke; mercilessly tearing through your untouched barrier. For a moment there was only a burning pain as he forced himself deeper. He pulled out a few inches, and then slammed back into you. Again and again. The Alpha above you howled with pleasure as he rutted into you hard and fast. You looked over your shoulder and moaned as you watched his narrow hips thrust against you. His eyes met yours and he bared his teeth as he indulged in his animalistic pleasure. With your mouth agape you felt another spark of pleasure ignite within you, you cried out for him, then, begging him to stoke the fire that threatened to burn, to consume you.
Your scents bled together, creating the beginning knot of your bond; his sandalwood and vanilla notes, duetting your patchouli and caramel glaze in perfect harmony. You whined as he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and clenching. He flipped you onto your back, spreading your weak legs wide as he entered you once more. He reached places that had you blaspheming as you chanted his title like a prayer.
Alpha, Alpha, Alpha…
He added fuel to your evergrowing fire as he reached down to your bundle of nerves, rubbing firm circles as he fucked into your wet cunt. He kissed you again, your lips following his lead as he claimed your mouth with his tongue. You moaned as you tasted yourself on him. His lips trailed down your jaw, peppering wet kisses down your body until he reached the scent gland on your neck. He scented you, then. A low growl left his chest as the base of his cock swelled, your pussy constricting in turn. Your howling moans clashed in dissonance as he pushed you over the edge into white-hot pleasure. Bucky thrusted into you, harder, faster, as his pleasure grew and grew until it finally exploded. As his warmth flooded you another sensation sent your senses into hyperdrive–his teeth sinking into your neck. Your arms and legs instinctively wrapped around him as he bonded you, marking you as his.
You murmured incoherently as your bodies locked together, you were so full of him that you could focus on nothing, but the feel of him locked inside you. Your head lolled to the side as your exhaustion set in, your bones felt heavy as sleep lulled you. You were vaguely aware of the man atop of you, too drunk on mated pleasure to fully acknowledge how his eyes began to once again devour your body.
He kissed your wound, breathing you in as he did, “What’s your name, Omega?”
“(Y/N),” you rasped.
“Bucky,”
As you sobered, the weight of your situation became clearer. All of those white hoods, all of those Omegas that never returned home… Your breathing picked up as panic sparked like lightning in your veins. You shoved on Bucky’s chest as you started to wiggle out from him, tugging on his knot. He snarled and snapped at you and you flinched as unshed tears glossed your eyes.
“Don’t hurt me, please,” you whimpered, “Please, I–I don’t want to die.”
“I’m not going to kill you, I’m going to keep you,”
Keep you? You trembled, “What about all of the other Omegas? What happened to them?”
He cupped your face and traced the bridge of your nose, then the cupid’s bow of your lips, “Them I killed,” he whispered with a ghost of a smile.
last updated: 10/5/2023. 10:59 pm, cdt.
© i do not give my consent for any of my works to be copied and pasted, translated, or posted on any other site. TOJII-FSHIGURO 2023.
#dark bucky barnes#dark bucky x reader#dark bucky x you#dark!bucky barnes#dark!bucky x reader#dark!bucky x you#dark!bucky smut#dark!fic#dark!marvel#dark!mcu#alpha!bucky#alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader#alpha!bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes smut#james buchanan barnes#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#a's masterlist#tojii fshiguro's masterlist
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Beach babies.
Man oh man Dadstarion! My mind could probably come up with a thousand scenarios for this theme.
This one might make you all cry. But like, happy tears? Maybe?
Summary: It’s a day at the beach with toddler Gale, pregnant Tav, and Dadstarion. Gale loves his Papa and always wants to look just like him; this presents a problem.
Tags/Warnings: fluff, light mentions of Astarion ptsd/trauma, in game spoilers, kids, parenthood, toddlers, pregnancy, light angst w comfort, comment if you see anything else I’m missing
*
Astarion didn’t particularly enjoy the beach. It was often crowded, feeling coarse grains of sand stuck between his toes unnerved him, and it was impossible to find a good vintage for miles unless you brought it yourself.
Which, today, he did.
“Loving the sun and loving the beach are two different things, entirely, my sweet.” The elf drawls as he takes a sip of wine from his goblet.
You, Astarion, and almost-three-year old Gale are all sitting on a woven blanket inside a rather ostentatious canopy tent, taking a respite from playing in the water with the toddler. The canopy had been Astarion’s choice — he’d refused to have any beach days without it this year. As it was Gale’s last summer as an only child, and your first born adored the beach, you’d reluctantly agreed to the ridiculous shelter in exchange for two more planned beach days on behalf of your toddler.
Astarion remarked that perhaps you should have used your strong negotiation skills rather than your community service as the main focus of your political platform all those years ago.
And then you won the familial negotiation. Though you still think your old camp tent would have sufficed just fine.
You sigh at your husband, “I suppose. But I seem to remember you being quite content with rolling around in the dirt once upon a time.”
You’re watching Gale as he scoops sand into a bucket. His face is covered in the remnants of fruit juice from his lunch, and his little silver curls are bouncing around in the wind. He’s wearing a thin, white cotton shirt and striped cotton swim trousers — the outfit is basically a child’s version of your husband’s.
Daddy and his mini-me.
Astarion chuckles, “Yes, well… we didn’t have much choice in the matter back then, did we, little love. And for the thousandth time, I did have a blanket set up in that clearing—“
“I never saw it!” You interject, “So for all I know, you’ve simply decided to tell me that to cover your ah— butt.”
A huff from your husband as he rolls his eyes at you, “My love, have I ever lied to you?”
Your eyes narrow, and you open your mouth, about to retort when the elf catches his mistake and is quick to amend his statement.
“Have I ever lied to you after our talk at Moonrise Towers all those years ago?” He asks, cocking his head just slightly, convinced he’s proven his point.
You pause as your mind plays through years of memories. And then you grin playfully, “Yes! The night you proposed and told me you found those gold coins on the dock.”
The elf scoffs incredulously, “You are a pain in the ah— butt. You know what I mean, Tav. Have I ever lied to you to intentionally hurt or manipulate you since then? Or to gain your favor?”
You chuckle and turn yourself slightly — it’s no easy feat, given the size of your pregnant stomach — moving to peck your husband on the cheek, “No, my love. I don’t suppose you have.”
Astarion hums happily as he finishes off his goblet, “Very well then, dear. I trust that means you believe me when I say I did have a blanket in that clearing and you simply couldn’t keep your hands—“
“Mommy! I too hot!” Gale suddenly cries.
When the two of you turn to acknowledge the toddler, he’s thrown his shovel and started thrashing his feet, kicking up grains of sand in the process.
Today was sweltering in comparison to the other days you’d spent at the beach. The canopy was unable to protect all three of you from the worst of the mid afternoon heat.
You sigh and hold your hand out to the toddler, “Gale, come here and let mommy take your shirt off. It’s too hot to be—“
“NO!” The little boy shrieks before standing up and stomping on the sand castle he’d just spent several minutes building, “I want look like daddy!”
“My love, you and daddy will still be in matching pants even if your shirt is off.” You coo, hoping your voice will soothe Gale, though you know the logic is far beyond what an almost-three-year old can understand.
Astarion does not take his shirt off in public. He hasn’t since your days in camp all those years ago, when it had been an unfortunate necessity from time to time. But he always hated it.
His scars are not something Astarion is particularly fond of revealing; even your former campmates have never caught sight of his back since the old days. You know as much. So your only choice, really, is to try and reason with the child.
It’s not working.
Gale is crying now, and his growing frustration is quickly making him overheated. His face and body are both turning red as he wails. Despite the magic dampener around his neck, you both know there will soon be a gust of wind knocking the entire tent down if he isn’t soothed.
“Gale, darling, won’t you please let mommy—“
You’re cut off by a shrill scream. The toddler becomes more red; large patches of crimson are splotched across his face and arms. The breeze is starting to pick up quite suspiciously. It won’t be much longer before—
“Look, Gale! Look at daddy!” Your husband exclaims, and when you glance to the side, you see that Astarion has willingly ripped off his own shirt. The muscle feathering in his jaw shows his discomfort, despite the fact the tent is shielding his back from any potential onlookers.
This catches the little boy’s attention. His green eyes snap open and he begins to relax as he examines his father and realizes the older man is, in fact, shirtless. Gale giggles and then tries to rip his own shirt off, though it gets caught around his neck and Astarion has to lean forward to help him.
The toddler grins at his father, “We match ‘gain, daddy!”
And then he’s back to playing in the sand, the entire tantrum all but forgotten on his part.
You quietly watch your husband, where he is still sitting nearly frozen, clearly working through something in his own mind. He’s wearing that faraway, glassy look in his eyes. The look has become exceedingly rare over time, but still rears its ugly head every once in a while.
Your hand finds its way to Astarion’s, where he’s dug it down into the sand, simply trying to clutch onto something in an attempt to keep himself together.
When your fingers brush against your husband’s, his eyes snap to you, and he’s pulled from whatever thought had been racing through his mind as he threads his fingers through yours. Now he’s clutching onto you.
“You’re a good father, you know.” You murmur, focusing your eyes on your husband’s as you rub the back of his hand with your thumb. A moment of silence passes between the two of you as he simply nods in acknowledgment, unable to bring himself to say anything as he sits in discomfort. Gale is singing happily as he scoops more sand into his bucket, oblivious to the two of you.
You flash a wide grin at Astarion and his eyebrows crinkle as he watches you, not understanding why.
“I think the twins think so, too, daddy.” You whisper, and you bring his sandy hand to your stomach, where the first few flutterings of movement can barely be felt beneath the stretching skin.
For just a moment, Astarion forgets himself as he beams and moves to place a kiss on the swell of your abdomen. Anyone looking at your family might have caught the quickest glimpse of his scars in that single, fleeting instance. But then the moment is gone, and he lays down with a sigh, obscuring his back completely.
“I just did it because I couldn’t be bothered to pitch the tent again if Gale accidentally blew it down, my love.” Your husband says in that offhanded, airy way of his that he uses whenever he’s feeling particularly vulnerable.
And right there, you think that may be the second lie Astarion has ever told you since your discussion at Moonrise Towers all those years ago.
But you’ll let that one slide.
#astarion fanfic#astarion x tav#baulders gate astarion#astarion fic#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion x f!reader#astarion x female reader#astarion reader insert#dadstarion#dadstarion fic#Papastarion
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Fall for Me | One Shot
Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge
Rating: Explicit NSFW18+
Chapter Count: One Shot | Read on AO3 Word Count: 8,048
Title: Fall for Me - Sleep Token
Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 during Act 2. Explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge as Astarion realizes there's a depth to his feelings that he's been trying to deny.
Tags: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Mentions of Violence, Soft Astarion, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character.
Author Note: Well…this got a bit out of hand. It started as me wanting to write about the moment Astarion realizes he's in deeper than he thought with this relationship, then morphed into me wanting to explore his headspace while being intimate, and then just devolved into absolute filth. I have no excuses. This fic precedes another of my fics called "Faint of Heart," which can be found on my account.
Astarion woke to a cold and suffocating darkness. A scent of wet decay hung in the air, eerily familiar, and all around him the silence screamed.
The night was distinctly void of the mundane sounds that had become commonplace during their journey. Even as they trekked through the Shadowlands towards Moonrise Towers, their nights usually bristled with distant howls and the whispers of skeletal trees as their limbs tangled and clacked in the wind. Now, however, there was nothing but a heavy and stifling quiet that set his nerves on edge. An anxious sense of wrongness stirred in his gut as he tried to get his bearings.
Where was he? Last he remembered, their group bedded down on the outskirts of an abandoned town called Reithwin. They intended to explore the decrepit buildings and shadowed ruins the next day as they pushed towards Moonrise.
Astarion sat up and blinked into the clawing darkness, squinting as if that would somehow bring the world around him into focus. Even with his darkvision, nothing manifested except the ever-expanding gloom all around him.
He ran a hand across the damp floor and shivered against the deep chill that engulfed him. He cast about for his belongings but found none, only a cracked tile floor slick with mildew and grime.
He heard a metallic clatter in the darkness as he shifted around and suddenly tuned in to a weight around his right ankle. An icy dread began to rise in his throat like bile as he hesitantly reached out and touched the shackle, fastened tight.
No…
Panic shot through his heart like a stake and his mouth went dry. He realized with a vile shock why he recognized the scent of old rot which saturated the air. It was the smell of stale rat blood mixed with years of filth and dirt.
He was back in the kennels. Back in Cazador’s grasp.
The realization nearly made him vomit as terror and confusion twisted in his stomach. Astarion hadn’t needed to breathe in over 200 years, and yet that didn’t stop his chest from tightening nor his lungs from seizing. Panic swept through him. He tried to gulp down air as a constricted and choking feeling pressed over him. Eyes wild, Astarion desperately tried to catch sight of something…anything in the relentless gloom.
How? Why? What in the hells had happened?
His mind wheeled, fueled by a horrifying sense of upheaval. He didn’t recall being attacked, but that didn’t change the situation he now found himself in.
He had to get out. He couldn’t be here. This couldn’t happen. This wasn’t right.
Except…it was. Because this was how his life had always been. He’d never escape. Never be free. Cazador would always find a way to drag him back. His master would never let go. He would always find Astarion, no matter how far he ran.
Thou shalt know that thou art mine.
Cazador’s fourth rule burned in Astarion’s mind, haunting and vicious. He stifled a sob, swallowing it back down and gritting his teeth until his jaw ached. He needed to figure out what had happened, because if he was here then…
Eli…
His stomach lurched as a fresh wave of dread nearly choked him. Where was Eli? If Cazador had been able to seize Astarion, had he taken her, as well? Guilt flooded his mind as it raced, trying to piece together some sequence of events that made sense. None of it seemed logical, but he was too panicked to dwell on the irrational nature of it all.
If Cazador had Eli…
But Cazador didn’t know, he couldn’t know…how Astarion felt about her. Hells, Astarion didn’t even understand his own emotions when it came to Eli. She was…something to him. More than nothing, so much more than nothing.
If Cazador had her…if he turned her…hurt her… Gods, what had Astarion done? He’d put a target on her, and of course Cazador would find her and take her. Because that was what he did. He destroyed anything that brought Astarion even a moment of happiness. How could he have been so stupid?
“Eli?” Astarion called quietly into the darkness, unable to mask the distress that clawed at his throat.
The voice that answered struck him numb with fear.
“Foolish boy. How easy it was to deceive your weak mind.” The cruel mockery in Cazador’s voice caused Astarion to flinch as if he’d been hit.
“What did you do with her?” Astarion hissed through bared teeth, dreading the answer.
“Nothing. Because she is nothing.” Cazador’s voice reverberated in the darkness as if he were everywhere at once.
Astarion didn’t understand whatever game his master was playing, and so he remained silent; shivering, though not as much from the cold as the trepidation.
“You’ve always possessed such a feeble mind, so easy to bend and break,” the voice bit from the shadows. “Did you honestly believe you’d escaped? That you’d been abducted? I planted such an absurd fantasy in your head that I had my doubts as to whether you would believe it. But your incompetence never ceases to entertain.”
Astarion’s eyes went wide and he froze like a prey animal that had only just sensed a trap. A slow, creeping horror slithered up his spine at the thought of what Cazador was insinuating.
“None of it was real, you pathetic little wretch. You’ve been here, the whole time, trapped in an illusion of my design.”
Astarion was going to be sick.
“I thought it was time to pull back the curtain, before you got too attached. To remind you that you are mine, and that will never change. Because who would want something as miserable as you?”
He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t need to breathe, and yet he couldn’t. His throat burned with bile that came up from his churning stomach. Hot tears seared the corners of his eyes and his brain felt as if it were on fire.
It hadn’t been real… None of it… He’d never be free…
You are mine.
_______________________________
Astarion gasped awake, as if he were a man drowning who’d finally come up for air.
His chest heaved as sweat cooled against his skin in the night air. He rolled onto his side, coughing as the memory of vomit receded. He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and wiped at the ones that had already trailed down his face.
Sitting up, Astarion shivered as the nightmare withdrew, glancing around his darkened tent anxiously as the ghost of Cazador loomed in his mind. He was alone, and though night in the Shadowlands was grim, it was not nearly as oppressive as the darkness in his dream.
A feeble hazy moonlight leaked through the murky tree canopy outside, casting a dim sheen through the pitch of night. Shadows bobbed and weaved on the walls of his tent, cast by drooping and swaying trees. The snarl of an animal sounded somewhere far off in the distance, and Astarion sighed as he tried to settle himself.
His nightmares were dipping into parts of himself he’d rather not acknowledge, preying on fears he wasn’t ready to face. He frowned, stomach knotting as residual feelings of fear and loss flashed through his mind like grease catching alight in a cook pan. He ran a hand through his white curls, recalling the anguish he’d felt in the depths of his dream. He’d felt so small. So fearful and alone. It made him restless.
Astarion stood and exited his tent, stepping into the chill of the night. Their campfire had burned to embers, the light barely able to cut through the murky darkness. The hour was either exceptionally late or achingly early, and the camp was still. Astarion was the only creature stirring in the gloom.
Memories, unbidden, jerked into his mind. Nights spent lurking in silent shadows, looking for a hapless target to bring back to the mansion. The endlessness of his putrid life was the only thing he thought lay before him. More decades of pain, torture and misery. The uncaring hopelessness of it all crushing every scrap of faith and every desperate prayer he had within until all that remained was a broken shell. Unfeeling and brittle.
He hated how wretched and pathetic he’d been. Used up and miserable. He never wanted to feel that way again. And so he fled from those memories, seeking distraction and solace, until he came to stand at the entrance to Eli’s tent.
Astarion paused just outside the mouth of the tent, apprehension twisting in his gut. He was being silly and foolish, he knew. Eli was fine. She’d be asleep in her bedroll and Astarion would feel like an idiot who’d allowed himself to get worked up over a godsdamn nightmare.
Gently, he pulled back the curtain that hung across the tent mouth and peered inside. As predicted, Eli was fast asleep with her back to the entrance. Astarion watched her shoulder rise and fall slowly as she breathed and felt the gnawing tension inside himself loosen its grip, just a bit.
Stupid. This was stupid. He was stupid. Gods, he wanted to hold her…
He wanted her to look at him like he meant something, like he was worth something. He wanted to lose himself in her, like that first night when they’d created their own pocket of nowhere. Free from Cazador and all of his miseries, free from the pain and the fear. Just them, wrapped up in hushed whispers and sweat and lust…and something else. Something different and needy and fragile. Something he’d never felt with anyone else.
“Astarion?” Eli’s voice pulled him back into the world and he blinked, focusing on her as she turned over to face him.
Of course she was awake. Eli’s sleep had become even more restless and fleeting since the night she’d woken him in a panic and he’d had to restrain her. He’d watched over her as she writhed, witnessing her loss of control as the thing within clawed for the surface. It had reminded him of how Cazador would wrest control of his spawn, forcing them to do as he commanded without resistance. He’d realized then that he feared losing her. That he cared and desperately wanted her to overcome whatever this monster was.
He was struggling with the realization, but that didn’t make the truth of it any less real.
“I’m sorry, my dear.” Astarion spoke quietly, shaking his head as if that would rid his mind of its cluttered thoughts. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Without pausing to dissuade himself, he crawled forward into Eli’s tent and sat next to her bedroll. He had allocated absolutely zero thoughts to what he would say or do next, but that wasn’t necessarily uncommon for him these days. Things had been working out for him so far, so why shift strategy?
Eli sat up and watched him curiously. “Is everything alright?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, waving off the concern that was growing in her eyes. “I’ve just been unable to sleep, what with Gale one tent over and snoring like an ogre with swamp lung. So, considering our current arrangement, I thought I might share your tent for the remainder of the night.”
Astarion’s words flowed with well-practiced ease and charm, as if he hadn’t just made that entire excuse up on the spot. He smirked at Eli, who was still fixing him with a skeptical stare, and fought down the sudden anxiety that was rising in his chest and urging him to back out of the tent.
Eli had become rather versed in reading Astarion and it was something he had not quite come to terms with yet. On one hand, it stroked the egotistical part of him that desired attention and affirmation to have someone so attentive to him that they could peak behind the pomp and bluster he so often put forth. On the other hand, he felt as if a part of him was at risk of being snatched away or trapped if someone was able to pull back the roguish mask he’d so carefully crafted. He felt unbalanced, oscillating between moments of vulnerability with Eli and moments where he slammed his walls back in place.
A part of him wanted to tell her why he was really there. That the thought of her, the thought of them, not being real had shaken him to the point where he physically needed to see her. Just to put his mind at ease. He didn’t understand it, himself; the feeling that had driven him to seek her out after he woke. And so he kept his mouth shut and didn’t elaborate, fearing that Eli may think him rather pitiful.
Eli continued to watch Astarion, dubious yet silent, before she sighed and shrugged. “Alright then. If you don’t want to tell me what’s really going on, that’s fine,” she said, then patted the space next to her on the bedroll. “You’re always welcome, you know.”
Astarion felt a strange pang of…disappointment twist in his chest. He’d honestly expected Eli to press further for an explanation that wasn’t clearly pulled out of his ass. But she didn’t. It was disarming.
He moved to her side and situated himself as Eli laid back down. She watched him for a moment as he fluffed a pillow and settled, then she closed her eyes with a deep breath and said nothing more.
“Thank you,” Astarion said quietly as his eyes danced across her restful face.
He felt a sense of unease, unused to having his boundaries respected in such a way. Eli had never been the sort to prod at him for explanations, or to prod at anyone, for that matter. As someone with their own menagerie of secrets and internalized darkness, she tended to allow others the leeway to decide how much or how little they wanted to share. Still, they’d been…indulging in one another rather frequently these days, and Astarion was realizing that while their nights together were a lot of fun, he wanted something…more.
The problem was he hadn’t any idea what that “more” was. And gods did it frighten him. The last thing he wanted to do was give someone else control over him, not after he���d so recently regained a taste of freedom. Over the past 200 years, every relationship he’d ever been involved in had been nothing more than a means to an end with Astarion either playing the role of manipulator or the one being manipulated. Attachments were leverage, giving someone a hook they were able to dig their claws into in order to gain ground. Isolating himself from connecting with others was how he had survived.
And yet, as he watched Eli drift back into sleep, his eyes found her hand resting near her pillow. A longing came over him and, carefully, he reached out tentative and slow until his fingers brushed gently against her own, quietly connecting. Questioning.
Eli’s eyes opened, sleepy but curious. She watched his fingers lightly caressing her own, and with a small smile took his hand and tenderly wove her fingers in between his. Moments like this, made up of soft touches and careful affections, were becoming more common between them. And the intimacy of these moments never ceased to fascinate Astarion.
To Astarion, intimacy had always involved passion and lust. It was created in the pressed spaces between fervent bodies as they worked one another towards ecstasy. It was fleeting and vanished just as quickly as it emerged.
This, however…this was different. This was calm and soothing, and it lingered almost like a promise. Always available to be restoked and explored.
“I…” Astarion began, hesitating for only a second before he steeled himself and pressed on. “I dreamed I was back at the mansion. Back under Cazador’s control.” The name was spoken on the edge of a growl, his red eyes fixed on their joined hands.
He paused, thinking through what to say next, and Eli allowed him the silence to collect his thoughts and continue. “He mocked me,” Astarion spat. “Saying that all this was an illusion. That I hadn’t escaped. That you were an illusion.”
He glanced cautiously to her face, and when his eyes met hers, he found understanding there.
“Well, you came to the right tent,” Eli smiled, voice playful though not dismissive. “I’m something of an expert on nightmares. We can even compare notes, if you like.”
She squeezed his hand lightly and repeated his words from the night when he’d kept vigil over her as she fought against the dark madness within herself. It was unexpectedly touching and Astarion felt something twist where his dead heart was.
“As for whether or not I’m an illusion,” Eli said as she propped herself up on her elbows, slinking closer to him, eyes locked in to his own. “We can thoroughly investigate that claim, if you’d like,” she whispered, a sly question lingering in her gaze.
Astarion smirked, rising and leaning in to close the space between them. He untangled his fingers from her own and placed his hands on her shoulders, fulling intending to roll her to her back and ravish her while she squirmed beneath him. Astarion had come to Eli’s tent with no expectations beyond wanting her close, but he certainly wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to get even closer. They were good together. Really. Fucking. Good. And already desire was clouding over his mind as he bent to capture her mouth with his own. He had tasted her many times before, and yet every time they came together after a prolonged absence it felt fresh and raw. Rejuvenating and wild.
In all of his time as a thrall to his master, Astarion had never bedded the same person twice. Every night was a new conquest, new prey for him to stalk and tease until he’d gathered just enough information to get him through the evening and to get his target back to the mansion. The encounters always played out very tactically on his end as he gathered just enough surface-level drivel to ensure his quarry was seduced into the trap. Once Cazador came for his prize, Astarion would never see the poor wretches again, and that was fine by him.
With Eli, though, it was so different. There had been nothing tactical about any of it after that first night, and even during. The ecstasy of freedom, of choosing to give of himself rather than being forced, was intoxicating. They would explore one another, finding comfort in both familiarity and discovery, honing in on the things that drove the other mad and had them coming undone in the throes of rapture. They were becoming known to one another, intimately and completely. Perfecting and exploring and discovering every time they were together.
It was both enthralling and terrifying, being known like that. Being laid bare as Eli unraveled him just a bit further every time, uncovering parts of himself that had been left dormant and untouched for so long.
The anticipation of it all was already causing a firm swell to build below the waistline of his trousers as he pressed into the kiss. His tongue darted and teased at her lips, gently prodding between them and beckoning her closer. One of his hands had slipped to the small of her back as the other pressed into her shoulder, gently guiding her so that he could tuck Eli below him and crawl on top.
Eli, however, seemed to have other plans in mind and resisted his direction, pushing back into him and maneuvering the both of them until he was on his back with her legs straddling his waist. She never broke the kiss, rocking forward on her knees as she took his hand from her back and pinned it to the ground above his head, her fingers lacing in between his own. He growled into the kiss and playfully ghosted a fang over her bottom lip, causing her to hum needfully into his mouth.
And then her lips were gone, leaving only the hot impression of longing against his own as Eli trailed her lips from the corner of his mouth to the shell of his ear. Her breath was tantalizingly warm, brushing against the sensitive skin there, causing a shiver to course down his spine before it pulsated up into his firming dick. His free hand came to rest on her hip and he fingered mindlessly at the hem of her pants. He wanted her to sit back onto his groin so he could roll his hips up into her and rut his straining cock in between her legs. Hells, he wanted to be free of their clothes so he could sheathe himself inside her warmth and watch her ride him while he speared her over and over as she screamed his name until her throat was raw.
But then all thoughts and wants were lost to a white hot flash in his mind as Eli bit down on the tip of his ear, careful not to break skin but sharp enough to fire lightning off into his veins. His hips snapped up, needing to feel her as his cock throbbed. His left hand was still pinned above his head by one of hers, and he felt his nails digging at the skin of her knuckles while his right hand desperately tried to pull her hips down against him. He choked off a whine in the back of his throat and closed his eyes as his head rolled back against the ground.
She laughed breathily into his ear, and oh gods it was undoing him already. This was dangerous. She’d been paying attention, noting all the things that set him off and applying them expertly until she had him writhing. It was a wholly new experience for him and beneath his fervor and lust was a seed of trepidation.
When it came to sex, there had always been two ways the experience would play out. Either he would maintain control over the situation, or he would disassociate as his various partners had their way and used him to their satisfaction.
But this. This was new. And while it wasn’t unwelcome, the fact that she’d worked him into this position so easily was setting off alarm bells in the back of his mind. He felt exposed. Vulnerable. He hadn’t realized how freely he’d given of himself these past few weeks, how far he’d let her explore and how attentively she’d done so.
How known he truly was.
And then she was letting go of his hand while her lips returned to his own, pressing soft and affectionate kisses into them. She carded a hand into his hair, careful to avoid his ear which was still tingling and overstimulated. He felt a shudder of both relief and disappointment roll through his body as the high passed, missing the sensuality and hunger of it all while relaxing into a more settled state of mind.
Astarion’s eyes were still closed, and the throbbing in his dick had not subsided. He felt her breath back at his ear, though not as close as it had been earlier.
“I just want to make you feel good,” he heard her whisper, sending sparks back through his veins. “Show me how.”
His eyes fluttered open to find hers gazing back at him, sweet and attentive. He felt her fingers twining through his hair and sighed contently, a small smile on his lips.
“You’ve been doing a magnificent job so far, darling,” he crooned before pulling her back down into another wanting kiss.
He smoothed his hands along her sides, repositioning her atop him until she was flush against him. He ran one hand down her spine, firm and slow, while the other gripped the back of her head, encouraging her to melt into him as their tongues explored each other’s mouths and their bodies squirmed, searching for friction. The hand at her back moved to squeeze her ass before he pressed her down against him, desperate for pressure against his groin.
“My only critique so far is there are entirely too many clothes between us,” he breathed against her lips. The hand on her ass gripped tight as he pressed and rubbed his thick erection into her hips, driving the point home.
“Allow me to remedy that,” Eli said with a quick kiss.
And then she was gone, hiking his shirt up and licking warm and wet kisses down his belly towards his waistline. Her hands were undoing the fastenings of his trousers and his head was beginning to spin with the implication.
That wasn’t… She didn’t have to…
He felt Eli slip her hands beneath his smallclothes and tug, pulling both his trousers and underwear down until his erection was free. He sighed from the relief, feeling the fullness bob and twitch expectantly. Eli was dragging her tongue down from his bellybutton towards his aching cock and fuck…he couldn’t remember the last time someone had offered to do this for him.
His hand was in her hair, then, tugging gently for her to look up at him.
“That’s not what I was implying, my dear. You don’t have to…” Astarion’s protests trailed off when Eli’s eyes met his, full of lust and playful longing.
He’d sounded almost sheepish, even a bit apologetic, as a sting of guilt wormed its way into his gut. Astarion should be the one giving pleasure, that was how these things always went. That was what he was good at…what his master had made him for…
The thought struck out at him unbidden with a nasty sense of shock and disgust. Cazador had created him for the pleasure of others, taking every opportunity to viciously remind him that what he wanted and how he felt never mattered. It was a belief that had been bolted to his soul after decades of torment, and one it seemed he still carried, even when he wasn’t in his master’s grasp.
“Astarion,” Eli said, softly pulling him out of his spiraling.
He blinked and refocused on her as she pressed her lips gently against the taunt skin over his hip bone, drawing an eager hiss from between his teeth as his dick jerked. Images of her mouth around him, warm and so godsdamn wet and tight, were firing off in his brain and…fucking hells, when had he fallen so completely for her?
“Right now, in this moment, nothing would make me happier than to get you down my throat and thoroughly satisfy you.” Eli smirked at him, hands on his bare thighs and lips a mere breath away from his cock, red and full and beginning to leak.
Her eyes were glittering with a mischief that was intoxicating, but there was affection there, too, soothing and comforting. He shivered, furiously trying to shut his brain down as thoughts collided in explosions of need, guilt and desire.
He’d thought himself so smart, charming and seducing her into his bed. Laying a trap and then walking her into it with such confidence and glee, only for him to find himself just as ensnared. He’d used her, manipulated her, and then drowned himself in her and gods above, if he didn’t want to do it again and again.
“But if that’s not what you want…” He stiffened at Eli’s words, catching the undercurrent of concern in her voice as she shifted and began to move back up his body.
He stopped her, sliding his hand from out of her hair to cup her cheek while he brushed a few silvery strands from her eyes with the other. Now was decidedly not the time for him to have an internal crisis of feelings. Not in the middle of the night with his dick out, pants halfway down his legs and Eli saying such obscene and beautiful things to him. There’d be time for personal reflection later.
He wanted this. Wanted her.
“I want it.” He almost felt embarrassed at the raw desire that slipped through his voice, heavy and breathy. “Gods, you have no fucking idea how much…”
He stopped himself before he could elaborate more and completely mortify himself.
“It’s just been a long time since anyone offered,” he concluded. He wouldn’t admit he couldn’t remember the last time someone had pleasured him like that.
Eli considered him for a moment, expression thoughtful, and for a brief moment of panic Astarion wondered if she had changed her mind. About him and about all of this. But then her lips twitched up into a tender smile and he felt his soul shudder.
“Please.” Astarion breathed.
Eli ghosted a few featherlight kisses near the base of his cock before whispering, “Well, when you ask so sweetly…”
And then her mouth was on him and Astarion’s head rolled back as he made a noise he was entirely too obliterated to be ashamed of.
She took only the tip at first, sucking down onto the head as her lips slid back and forth over the swollen ridge. Her pace was slow, and it was both agonizing and exhilarating. His thighs clenched as a heavy pressure throbbed deep in his groin, sending shivers and tingles spasming out through his legs and up into his belly. His hand was back in her hair, grabbing and encouraging, careful to not be forceful, while his other hand fisted the bedroll.
He both heard and felt Eli laugh low in her throat, the vibrations of it tingling down his shaft and setting his nerves on fire. He’d managed to kick his trousers off, spreading his legs apart so she could nestle between them and absolutely destroy him.
Eli began sucking him down further, slowly sheathing himself into her mouth. He shut his eyes, growling as her warmth and spit enveloped him. He responded by hitching his hips up into her, wanting more, wanting her full of him. He felt her hands on his hips, directing him to rock up into her mouth at a languid pace. He fell into the rhythm, fucking into the suction. She flattened her tongue, applying pressure along his shaft every time he thrusted in before dragging her tongue tip along the sensitive skin when he pulled out.
The growl in his throat grew into a lewd moan that shamelessly filled the tent, leaving no one who was awake in camp to wonder about what was taking place. He could not have cared any less about who heard, and in fact he welcomed it. Let them all listen as Eli, savior of the Druid’s Grove, conqueror of Grymforge and scourge of the Absolute went down on him and fucked him senseless with her perfect fucking mouth. He was the only one she’d do this to, the only one she’d pleasure. No one else got to experience this, see her like this.
He was hers.
The thought set off a wave of arousal so potent that he felt his cock spasm in response, leaking precum that Eli’s tongue then swirled across his tip as he continued to rut into her. The pressure between his legs was mounting as a possessive and greedy emotion seized him.
“Darling…oh gods, darling, not yet…” Astarion wasn’t going to last like this, but he was not ready to be undone. Not yet.
He opened his lust-blown eyes and a feral groan tumbled out of him at the sight of Eli between his legs, sweaty and fervent and his. Leaning forward, he cupped her chin and encouraged her off his dick. Her eyes met his and the mixture of arousal and craving in her dilated pupils slammed into him so hard his chest hitched.
Nobody looked at him like that. Ever.
He needed more.
Wordlessly, he pulled her up to him and their mouths crashed together in a wild and wanton kiss that was all tongues and teeth. He could taste himself on her, salty and pungent and it drove him mad.
They only separated for a moment as Astarion pulled Eli’s shirt up and over her head before removing his own. Then, they were tumbling back onto the bedroll, Astarion still pinned beneath Eli as their hands greedily explored one another.
He began fumbling with the buttons of Eli’s pants, the last barrier between them, and licked into her mouth as she moaned desperately into their bruising kiss. She was writhing on top of him, bent over him and straddling his bare torso as her hips rolled against him shamelessly. Undoing the buttons, he slipped his hand beneath her underwear and ran a teasing finger between the lips of her swollen clit.
Eli whined and gasped as his touch and Astarion laughed with wicked mirth, gliding his finger back and forth between her wet folds but never going deeper. She was soaked, worked up into a frenzy and it emboldened his ego to no end.
“I didn’t realize sucking on my cock could make you so wet,” he purred with no small amount of self-satisfaction.
His finger traced a circle along the rim of her pulsating clit, earning a high-pitched moan that shuddered out of her throat and went straight to his dick. She tried to reposition herself, needing his fingers in places they weren’t.
He grinned at her distress, earning a reproachful bite to his lower lip that did nothing to dissuade him.
“Less working your mouth and more working you – oh fuck!” Eli cried out as Astarion pushed two fingers up into her, burring them deep.
She bolted upright, arching her back as her mouth fell open and her head fell back, a slew of profane and needful curses tearing from her throat. He felt her clamp down on his fingers, hands pressing on his chest for balance as she brazenly rode his fingers.
He gazed up at her as his fingers stroked and hooked at her throbbing walls, causing little twitches and spasms to filter throughout her body. Her skin glistened in the foggy moonlight that seeped in through the walls of the tent, sweat-slicked breasts bouncing with each thrust of her hips as her head lolled, eyes shut reverently as she worked to satisfy herself. His dick bobbed against his belly with each roll of her hips, and he could feel a warm trail of precum rolling down the edge of his hip. His erection was so stiff it verged on painful, and when he felt her walls begin to flutter around his fingers, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.
He pulled his hand back from within her core and the gasping whine that erupted from her lips nearly choked him.
“I’m sorry, my sweet,” he crooned, wrapping an arm around her back as he braced himself with the other and sat up. “Bear with me for just a moment. I dare not make you wait any longer.”
Astarion tipped her back and laid her down, yanking both her pants and underclothes off in a swift motion. He settled his hips between her legs, the head of his cock pressing agonizingly at her entrance.
He hovered above her for a moment, drinking her in. She was a gorgeous mess, eyes blown wide with craving and skin flushed hot and pink. Her chest was heaving as she gazed up at him with a look that would have stopped his heart if it weren’t already still. Adoration beamed back at him as she smiled and Astarion felt a twisting deep in his chest.
He knew then, with absolute certainty, that whatever was between them was so much more than anything he had planned for it to be. It terrified and amazed him. Welling up emotions within himself he wasn’t sure how to grasp or understand. He didn’t want to hide from it, though. He’d been hiding and skulking and manipulating for too long.
He wanted something more. Something real.
Astarion bent down, kissing Eli deep and longingly. Hoping that even just a shred of what he felt could be communicated through the embrace. She sighed into it, eyes closing and hands carding into his hair before they slid down to his back. He shivered as her fingers traced tenderly over the scars there, careful and deferential.
Breaking the kiss, he hooked an arm under her left leg and rested it up on his shoulder, pressing it forward and stretching her apart. Lining himself up to her warm core, he rested his forehead against her own and felt her squirm impatiently beneath him.
“Fuck, Astarion, please.”
That was all it took. He pushed inside of her, body shuddering at the enveloping and soft warmth. He felt his abdomen clench, waves of arousal rocketing down his legs and up his spine as he sank into her to the hilt. Astarion groaned, pulling back before he buried himself again, then again, then again. Eli gasped with each thrust, arching her back and angling her hips for a better position. The leg he’d pulled over his shoulder tensed and squeezed, pressing down on him as he snapped his hips up and into her. A low growl rose up, unbidden, from his throat. He was throbbing and needy and she felt so fucking good. Warm, wet and tight as he pressed into her walls and felt her contract around him. Their eyes were locked in and a rapturous shudder ran the length of his spine as Eli’s face contorted in ecstasy, her mouth opening in a silent and delirious cry.
He pulled back again. Her eyes were begging. Another thrust, making her back arch up as she bucked her hips into him, needing him deeper.
He was entranced with her face and the raw longing he saw there. He plunged in again, drawing a high squeal from her that turned into a breathy rasp as she closed around him and shook against his body. Her eyes never left his, and he drank in every mewl and cry as she looked at him with so much affection and craving that Astarion was tempted to duck his head and hide from the level of vulnerability she was giving him.
But he didn’t. Couldn’t. No one else got to see this. No one else would see Eli – hero, warrior, leader, fledgling legend that she was – shivering and squirming underneath him as he pumped into her. This was all for him, and him alone.
She was falling apart, losing herself in the thrill and the ecstasy, every sob for more spurring him on as he stared into her enthralled eyes. Her hands were everywhere, desperately running up and down and all over, clutching and pulling him closer while she pushed at the small of his back, directing his thrusting pace into one she could match with euphoria-inducing turns and twists of her hips.
The wild and undone look in her eyes coupled with the unrelenting throbbing of his cock was near enough to drive him mad. Electric jolts shot down his legs from his groin with every plunge, and his muscles felt as if they would seize at any second. It felt amazing. She felt amazing, and gods she was looking at him like he was the gravitational pull of the universe. It tore at his seams and pulled a centuries-old ache from his dead heart.
He wanted to be someone to her. Someone important. Someone she needed.
It was agonizing and frightening, that feeling. The last time he’d even remotely felt anything near to it, he’d been locked away and isolated in a coffin for over a year. Punishment for such sentimental wretchedness.
Astarion grit his teeth, clawing his way back from the memory and pushing it all down. Those were things left for later. Not now. Not when Eli was crying out and babbling about how incredible he felt, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss that he swore was going to set him on fire.
The pressure was building between his legs again as every muscle below his chest began to tense. His mind fixated on the lewd and wetly rhythmic sounds coming from between them and he could feel her slick arousal all over his groin and lower torso. His mind began fuzzing, triggered by all the erotic sounds and the building stimulation threatening to explode in his core.
He wanted this. He wanted to feel her cum beneath him. He wanted to feel himself truly and completely let go for the first time in centuries.
He pulled back from their kiss, the hair on his neck pricking in response to the small whine that left Eli’s throat as he did so.
He continued to pound into her, hard and measured, dick pulsating inside of her as the buildup became nearly unbearable. Beyond the pounding of blood in his ears he could hear himself grunting with each thrust, deep and animalistic and so fucking needy as the delirium mounted all around them.
Astarion leveled his eyes with Eli’s, face hovering above hers, and smiled at the unabated and desperate look she was giving him.
“Do you really want me that badly, darling?” he asked, panting and nearly out of his mind with wonder at the sheer amount of desire coursing between them.
There was no teasing in his question, no flirtatious overtones or hidden meanings. He needed to know.
“Yes,” she breathed, and the world narrowed.
“Gods, Astarion, I want all of you,” Eli nearly cried, arms tightening around him as she came near to climax. “Not just this,” she moaned, pressing her face into his neck as her back arched off the ground. She was shaking she was so close.
“I want you with me,” she whined into his ear and the desperation in her words was intoxicating. “In all the ways that matter,” she continued, her voice raw and teetering on the edge of bliss. “…with me. Please!”
Astarion clung to her like a man drowning, eyes closed and face pressed into her hair. The scent of her was everywhere and he reveled in the frantic intimacy of the moment, blindly grabbing at her upturned hips and bottoming out into her with a force that sent lightning zipping through his veins and stars bursting behind his eyelids.
The pressure between his legs released and Astarion came with all the subtlety of a smokepowder barrel blowing alight, all the muscles in his legs and lower torso seizing and relaxing in bursts.
“Gods, Eli. Fuck!” he cried out against her, swept up in the climax as the world fell away.
Eli followed, her inner walls contracting around him, bolstering his orgasm as she shuddered and cried out for him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed tight, wanting him full and solid as she came with him inside.
Astarion moved his hips in a circular motion, gentle and sensual, letting Eli ride out the last of her orgasm as the both of them came down. They were a tangle of arms, legs, sweat and ragged breath, neither willing to let go of the other as a hush fell over the tent. They rested in the quiet, laying in each other’s arms, content in the intimate sense of togetherness. He could feel her racing heart beat beneath her skin as he rested his head under her chin, her pulse lulling him into a comfortable daze. The scent of the blood in her veins was hot and sweet and he reveled in the thrum of life that surrounded her. A life he was growing more and more attached to…
Suddenly, Eli snorted and Astarion’s eyes snapped open curiously. He lifted his head and quirked a brow down at her as she tried and failed to suppress a fit of giggling. He tensed, unsure and more than a little confused by her bizarre response to what he thought had been a rather exhilarating experience.
She squeezed his bicep reassuringly, a delighted grin settling on her face.
“Sorry,” she laughed quietly. “I was just thinking, there’s no way anyone in this camp is still sleeping. We’re going to have to apologize in the morning.”
Astarion’s eyes softened as the corner of his mouth twitched up fondly. He then made a show of rolling his eyes before he buried his face back into her neck.
“You are quite mad, aren’t you?” he mumbled, unable to keep a smile out of his words. “I’ll go to my second grave before I apologize for what we just did.”
_______________________________
The sounds of muffled shuffling outside the tent woke Astarion the next morning. He tracked the sound with his ears, unwilling to open his eyes and rouse himself from his sleepy haze.
Eli lay pressed up against him in his arms, her head nestled near his chest. He’d pulled a blanket over them at some point during the night in an effort to retain the warmth coming off her body. Considering his undead nature, he could only sap her body heat from her, rather than contribute to it, and that fact bothered him a bit more now than it had in the past.
He traced a finger lazily across her back, feeling the ridges and divots of multiple angry scars she had no memory of earning. Eli’s body was a war story, just as damaged as her broken mind with twisted scarring and gnarled blemishes that held their secrets close. They were the remnants of a brutality that was difficult to reconcile with the person he’d come to know Eli as, and it made her all the more beautiful for it.
He didn’t mind her brokenness, and he was comforted by her imperfection. He knew all to well what it was like to be torn open over and over…
The clang of a cookpot being hoisted over the camp’s fire caused him to flinch, and Eli stirred, yawning into his bare chest.
Astarion opened his eyes, blinking as they focused in the gloom. Early morning shadows crept along the walls of the tent and he could now hear Gale’s distinct and nervous muttering as the wizard went about his morning routine, preparing coffee and some manner of breakfast near the center campfire. There was another voice, too, hushed and careful, as if the speaker didn’t want to be overhead.
“Oh, would you two stop squawking like a pair of gossipy hens!” Karlach’s voice boomed out over the hushed muttering, both scolding and amused in tone. “You both are just jealous it wasn’t either of you causing that racket last night. Hells knows I am,” she bemoaned.
“Is that what Gale and Wyll are prattling on about?” Lae’zel’s voice barked from over near her tent. “Sex can provide excellent relief from the stresses of our chaotic situation. It is both a healthy and helpful activity, though I am assuming neither of you have much familiarity with its benefits considering how you chatter like scandalized adolescents.”
Eli cut off a laugh in the back of her throat and Astarion smirked.
Gale and Wyll had begun to boisterously protest before Karlach interrupted, clearly directing her next statement in the direction of Eli’s tent.
“They might as well get out here so we can properly taunt them for not inviting any of us!”
Eli rolled onto her back then sat up, shrugging the blanket off and arching her spine in a fluid stretch, arms raised. Wordlessly, she then bent down, kissing him with a tenderness that made his chest ache, before she leaned away and stood, beginning to dress.
“Sorry, Karlach, but I draw the line at superheated engine that could melt my face off and angry unstable bomb that could level a small city when considering who I sleep with.” Eli pulled her shirt over her head and turned to wink at him before she unfastened the tent flap and stepped out into camp.
Karlach’s boisterous laughter greeted her and Astarion frowned as the tent flap fell back into place, leaving him alone with thoughts he needed to sort through.
Denial wasn’t going to work any longer. And gods, was he in trouble.
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I keep thinking about walking home at night, and stepping over what I think is a puddle, dark and still and inky under the streetlights.
But it winds its way around my leg and grips and pulls me to stop, solid and slick to the touch. It starts dragging me back and reaching for my other leg as it wakes up with the moonrise and the scent of prey. More tentacles follow, immobilising me, but I don't cry out for help. Instead I cover my mouth and stifle my moans as it finds its way up my skirt and between my legs and starts to explore.
Looking around, up and down the street, hoping no-one else comes this way and sees (but also hoping someone does see me like this, pliant and shaking and letting it use me).
How it slides inside and mindlessly pushes deeper, more, with more tentacles, everywhere it can reach. It grips my legs to stop me from running even though I wanted this, I heard the rumours and came here in the dark, hoping.
It would wring orgasm after orgasm out of me, right there in the street as I cover my mouth and try not to wake anyone in the houses along the road, the only noise being the slick sound of it filling me until black inky cum streaks down my legs in thick, virile, dripping rivulets.
And then it holds me, filling me over and over until dawn approaches and it lets me go, returns to sleep. I'd walk home in the cold early morning, hiding from early passersby because even though I'm still clothed, there's no hiding what it did to me when the proof is dripping down my skin, all the way to my ankles.
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Gale/Wyll banter
Here's a collection of Gale/Wyll banter that I found in the dialogue files. I hope this is useful as both fanfiction resources and general curiosity :)
Help: I'm fairly sure there's a line from Wyll (?) mentioning how Gale doesn't ever eat vegetables, but for the life of me I can't find it. UPDATE 30/12/2023: Found it and added it to the post, the banter happens with the MC during the tiefling party. Also added a couple more interesting tidbits of dialogue.
Warning: long post.
Act 01
Loss of powers
Wyll points out that he used to kill big monsters, and now a few goblins are a challenge. What gives? Gale remarks it must be the tadpole.
Wyll: Was a time I tussled with hill giants without breaking a sweat.
Wyll: Now, a mere werebear could swat me halfway to Amn.
devnote: Amn = city on the Sword Coast. Pronounced "AAHM" like UK Eng "arm".
Gale: Strange things are happening to us. What festers in our minds may well impel our bodies.
—
Netherese magic
Wyll recalls the hag said 'Netherese' and asks Gale what he knows. Astarion adds a thought if he is present.
Wyll: Ethel mentioned Netherese magic. What in blazes does that mean?
Gale: Magic from the fallen empire of Netheril. Ancient, exceedingly dangerous, and quite unrivalled.
Astarion: Wonderful! I'd hate to be destroyed by any common old magic.
devnote: A little sarcastic. You've been told the dangerous magic inside you is ancient and unrivalled
—
Goblin raids
Wyll: I've known goblin raiders to slaughter entire villages and strip them for loot - but I've never seen one ravaged like this.
Gale: It's hard to imagine anyone who'd willingly inflict such devastation, be they zealots, marauders, invading armies... A sign of far worse to come, I fear.
—
Act 02
Mountain Pass
Gale: These cragged hillls make for weary soles. I see why most headed inland prefer the smooth sailing of the Chionthar.
Wyll: More importantly, the land west of here suffers under a terrible curse.
Gale: You've seen it for yourself?
Wyll: I've glimpsed that doom during my travels, but never dared get close.
Wyll: If we continue this way, we may get too close for comfort.
—
Scary woods
Wyll: What a dismal forest. Monsters could be lurking behind any and every tree.
Gale: We'd be wise to fear the trees themselves. It feels like the forest itself longs for our destruction.
devnote: serious
Wyll: Frustrating, that.
Wyll: Monsters, I can fight. But I can no more sever these shadows than I could the wind or the sun.
—
Approaching Moonrise
Gale: Moonrise Towers lies ahead. We're nearing the Heart of the Absolute, I'm certain of it.
Wyll: Then let us push forward, heads high, weapons in hand, and turn this tower to rubble.
Gale: Your confidence is encouraging but a little premature. Let's keep our eyes on the task ahead. Or eye, as the case may be.
—
Tollhouse
Gale: A tollhouse like this would only be merited in the most prosperous of settlements. This was once a thriving trade route.
Wyll: Should it be any wonder? The Chionthar's waters carry merchant vessels from as far east as Berdusk.
devnote: bur-DUSK
Wyll: And they wouldn't have brought just trade goods, but song, dance, and custom. Riches of the mind and the spirit.
Wyll: So much was lost when the darkness fell.
—
At the Mason's Guild
Gale: The masons here thought they were building something to last. How wrong they were.
Wyll: Perhaps it's a blessing that none of them survived to see it fall to the shadows.
Gale: No need for such a grim assumption. Halsin helped many to escape these shadows before the town was consumed.
Wyll: Then some masons were more blessed still, if they could put their talents to use elsewhere.
Wyll: Perhaps some of their work even graces Baldur's Gate.
—
Guildhall
Wyll: It might seem a bit ramshackle, but this place has a boastworthy bar.
Gale: A bar is only as good as its cellars. Which vintages can we expect to find on their racks?
devnote: Anticipating a nice drink
Wyll: Here, a bottle is judged more by its ability to crack heads than the quality of its contents.
Gale: Ah. If that's the main criteria then I shall reset my expectations accordingly. Water it is.
devnote: Good humoured
—
House of Healing
Wyll: This was a hospital? Feels more like a prison.
Gale: A common enough interpretation. Sickness has a nasty habit of making you feel trapped, if only within the confines of your own body.
Gale: I once spent weeks convalescing in the Hospice of St Laupsenn (*) after a nasty bout of ruddy pox. For all their kindness, leaving that place behind felt like freedom to me.
Wyll: I've always relied on the kindness of the healers and menders of the Coast. Better a cleric's healing touch than a chirurgeon's scalpel.
(Lore note*): The Hospice of St. Laupsenn is a temple of Ilmater in the North Ward of Waterdeep.
—
Moonrise General_AssaultState
Wyll: This is it, Gale - today, we annihilate the heart of the Absolute's power. The bards will sing of our victory here.
Gale: Entirely unnecessary. Though if they are so inclined, I might be convinced to share a stanza or two of my own for inspiration.
devnote: Feigned modesty
—
Moonrise General
Wyll: This is no aimless horde - the Absolute's forces are organised. What do you make of it, Gale?
Gale: All enemies have some chink in their armour, no matter how much they like to believe themselves invulnerable. That's what we must find.
devnote: Cheery/determined
Wyll: And if we don't find any clear weakness?
Gale: Then we hope our mutual strengths are enough to dominate them. Or, we die nobly in the attempt.
devnote: Cheery/determined
—
Moonrise Prison
Gale: Not a devil in sight. How disappointing.
COL_MizorasRescue_State_SavedMizora = False, TWN_Wyll_State_MizorasCaptureHappened, MOO_MizorasRescue_Event_WalkedAway = False
Wyll: I doubt a few iron bars are sufficient to hold one of Zariel's.
Gale: True enough. But an illithid pod? That would probably do the trick.
devnote: Cogs whirring
Wyll: I wager you're right. Ah, Gale - what a pleasure to see a genius' mind at work.
Wyll: Of course Mizora was Zariel's captured asset. How did I not see it coming?
TWN_Wyll_State_MizorasCaptureHappened
Gale: It's in a devil's nature to conceal the truth - you can't fault yourself for that.
Wyll: I've been pacted for seven years on, Gale. I should be able to read between Mizora's lines by now, no matter how narrow the gap.
Gale: How long have you been pacted to Mizora, Wyll?
Wyll: Seven years. Seven years of hunting the monsters of the Sword Coast - and seven years of Mizora's tight leash.
Wyll: And seven years of wondering if I'd ever rid myself of her - or if I even should.
—
Act 03
At the Basilisk Gate
Gale: The history of the city itself is captured in the archives here - a fascinating resource.
Wyll: I wonder what those archives will reveal about us a hundred years hence.
Gale: Only the most excellent and complimentary things. With some encouragement from us, of course.
—
Morphic Pool
Gale: Whatever the outcome of what's just ahead, it will be the stuff of legends.
Wyll: In that case, someone needs to survive to tell the story.
Gale: My money's on you, Wyll.
Wyll: I'm betting on all of us.
—
Misc banter
Gale's ticking time bombs
Wyll points out that Gale has two ticking time-bombs inside him - but he's holding together pretty well.
Wyll: I admire your courage, Gale.
Gale: Thank you. Any particular reason?
Wyll: Between the orb and the bug, you've got more than your fair share of unwelcome passengers.
Gale: What can I say? Mother always taught me to be a gracious host.
—
Wyll thinks Gale has potential
Wyll tells Gale he's got potential, and suggests he rename himself something more... heroic. Gale finds Wyll quite the tryhard.
Wyll: You're an impressive fighter, Gale. You should consider a new name.
Gale: I take it you have some suggestions?
Wyll: 'The Wizard Wonder!' Or how about, 'The Master of the Weave'?
Gale: Tempting. But I think we might already have the maximum number of theatrical titles.
—
With Laz'el and Wyll
Lae'zel notes that Gale knows a lot about mind flayers. He responds with information about his training. If there, Wyll chimes in as well.
Lae'zel: You strike me cleverer than most istiki, Gale. Multiple tutors, I should guess.
devnote: istiki - non-gith. IH-stick-ee
Gale: Many a wise man and woman indeed. Waterdeep is the home of myriad scholars.
Wyll: Ah, the City of Splendours. Spent a whole Fleetswake there with my father. What a delight.
—
Romance
The following dialogues are marked as ROM, which I assume is a flag for triggering when there's an active Romance with the MC.
Romance banter, Act 1
Gale: If your natural charm isn't quite up to scratch, Wyll, there are magical means of adding a little flourish of charisma.
Wyll: A kind offer, but I think I'd rather pursue things the old fashioned way.
Gale: Have you noticed any attachments of the more, erm, romantic variety flourishing in our camp, Wyll?
devnote: Fishing for info, a bit awkward.
Wyll: I think I'm not the right person to be asking.
Wyll: I can recognise a troll's silhouette on a far horizon, but I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.
—
Romance banter, Act 2
Gale: I knew you were a graceful man, Wyll, but I hear you're quite the dancer too.
Gale: I've been known to trip the light fantastic myself. Mine was a popular hand at the annual Blackstaff's Ball.
Wyll: I'd have love to have witnessed it, Gale. I wager you are as elegant on the dance floor as you are on the battlefield.
Gale: I've heard that in Baldur's Gate, 'wizard' is also a term used for one who eschews their more, ahem, carnal desires. Is that true, Wyll?
devnote: Fishing for info, a bit annoyed about what he's heard
Wyll: Where are we going with this, Gale?
Gale: Oh, nowhere. I just think it a rather cruel misnomer. Not at all reflective of the glamour wizarding life affords.
devnote: A bit sulky/sensitive about it
—
Romance banter, Act 3
Wyll: I'm probably going to regret this, but Gale - if I'm to be wed, would you like to make a speech?
Gale: You've asked the right wizard. My oratory skills have left many a wedding guest weeping in their seat.
devnote: Honoured/very excited at the prospect of speaking at length. Oblivious as to why his previous listeners might have been left weeping…
Wyll: Promise it will last less than half an hour?
Gale: I can promise it will feel like less than half an hour...
devnote: Trying to avoid committing to a short speech
Wyll: I used to believe the beauty of first love was unable to be surpassed.
Wyll: But Gale - you are so much more tolerable now you've found your second.
Gale: I'll take that comment with the sincerity and good will I assume it was intended.
devnote: Not rising to it, cheerful
—
Misc quotes
Tiefling party
Gale: Wyll's a good man. He may actually be a tried-and-true storybook hero.
Gale: Then again he's so full of himself it's a small miracle he hasn't resorted to self-cannibalism yet.
Wyll: You're running away from Gale's cooking.
Wyll: It's delicious, don't get me wrong, but that man wouldn't eat a vegetable unless Mystra herself commanded it.
Other
Gale: So, you didn't fancy sharpening up the old moniker? I'd have thought the 'Blade of Frontiers' might be feeling a bit dull after all you've been through.
Player: Sounds heavenly. Mind if I join you?
Wyll: Not at all. You hunt the deer, I'll scrounge up the ale. Prepare your belly for roast a la Ravengard!
Wyll: Let's hope Gale doesn't take offence if I assume cooking duties, just the once.
#bg3#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#baldur's gate 3#bg3 spoilers#astarion ancunin#astarion#lae'zel#baldur's gate wyll#bg3 meta#wyll ravengard#bg3 wyll#bg3 gale
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Odd Moon-related Connections in Genshin Lore
- Glaze Lillies and Nilotpala Lotuses only bloom at night
- Glaze Lillies may have been the favorite flower of Guizhong, who’s hair was grey/white and who’s outfit had stardust on it (she was the god of dust, so unless she was a god of stardust specifically that’s some odd things about her)
- Nilotpala Lotuses bloomed at the bleeding feet of the Goddess of Flowers after being cast out of Heaven in the wake of the Seelie disaster
- There is at least one account in Sumeru that claims Liloupar came to the people in a moonbeam. Quote: “Our prayers to the Goddess of Flowers have borne fruit. Her envoy came to us in a moonbeam, granting us life-saving medicine and clean water … …She called herself Liloupar, born of the lilies” and later in that same passage, Quote: “At moonrise, she warned us that the water from the canal may carry disease.” So many mentions of the moon in one text about Liloupar and her relation to the Goddess of Flowers.
- Seelies seem to have a moonlit sky with sparse clouds reflected in their bodies, the bright orb in their heads looks like a moon.
- Guizhong’s death produced a cloud of dust that blocks out the sky and creates a darkened area in Liyue.
- Istaroth was said to be responsible for the Sin Shades, who only show up in Evernight in the dark.
- Nahida has some moon connections in her titles, and she has white hair and pale skin, like Paimon, who has a starry pattern on her scarf like Guizhong had on her robes.
- The Goddess of Flowers built a city for her offspring, the Jinn, and she called it Ay-Khanoum, translated to English that’s the City of the Moon Maiden.
- You can link the mythologies of the Goddess of Flowers and King Deshret to King Solomon and Astarte, who was a version of Ishtar, who is the root for the name Istaroth
- The power of the Aranara is the power of dreams, they exist in the dreamscape. And with how much we use a harp to connect with Aranara, it’s just as likely that music is linked to dreams. And Venti, one of Istaroth’s thousand winds, is a bard who knows all songs past and future, and plays a harp.
- The moon sisters were named Aria, Sonnet, and Canon, literally musical terminology.
- There’s probably a connection between the three moon sisters and Teyvat’s concepts of Time, Memory, and Dreams
- One of Venti’s powers is that he can pull up memories from the far flung past
- The quest for Time and Wind has these sun dial looking things that are actually moon dials since the puzzle only activates at night
- Seelies make a jingling tune, Nahida makes a jingling tune, the Goddess of Flowers taught Rukkhadevata the “source song” which birthed the race of Aranara, and the Pari fought the abyss using the Great Songs of the Khavarena, which seem to summon pure elemental energy aligned with Dendro.
- One of the fairytales that was weirdly important to the Abyss Order before we learned that fairy tales could hold the truth about the past if it’s been rewritten/deleted in Irminsul was the Pale Princess and the Six Pygmies. I’ve already noted a few pale characters with crowns or royal status but there was also a character called the Night Mother, who seemed to be the villain of the story. Another odd Night connection.
- Andersdotter wrote The Boar Princess, her signature rose design is on the cover. A rose is also on the cover of The Pale Princess and the Six Pygmies, so could she have written that too? As a member of the Hexenzirkel, it’s pretty likely.
- The Seelies were said to be beautiful pale people, and Rukkhadevata is pale with white hair, as is Nahida. Another trait they share are elf ears. Klee is pale with fair hair, and she’s an elf; from what we know of Alice, her mom, she could look much the same. Although he’s old, Pulcinella of the Fatui Harbingers is also an elf with white hair and pale skin, fitting the description. Seelies are fairies, and elves in real world folklore are considered fae, so could the Seelies have given us the elf race in Genshin? Or the Moon Sisters, who presided over the Seelies? Elves seem to be as long lived as gods, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility.
- I think Aria, Sonnet, and Canon represented Memories, Time, and Dreams, symbolizing the past, present, and future respectively. I don’t know the order of the goddesses in their roles, but I do know they had a fight and two died, leaving only one, and wouldn’t it be something if that surviving moon goddess became Istaroth, the god of Time? Maybe even Irminsul came from the death of the moon goddess of Memory? I don’t know what could’ve happened to the goddess of Dreams, but maybe her death caused the constellations that are canonically made up of the crystalline fruits of Irminsul in the sky box of the Firmament.
(If I could post more than 10 pictures I would but you have the internet, you can look up photos of the stuff I’m talking about.)
#genshin impact#theory#theories#the moon sisters#istaroth#the goddess of flowers#hexenzirkel#venti#greater lord rukkhadevata#lesser lord kusanali#Seelies#khvarena#Aranara#jinn#Enkanomiya#sin shades#Guizhong#king Deshret#Paimon#the pale princess and the six Pygmies#the boar princess#andersdotter#pulcinella#Klee#Alice#Irminsul#time and wind#unreconciled stars
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366 Prompts For 2024:
One word prompts for 2024 (all 12 months) and some alternatives. These are mostly horror / fantasy aimed.
January (31):
Behold
Justice
Oak
Weave
Hook
Waggon
Torch
Jinx
Prey
Must
Lit
Keep
Vanquish
Yarrow
Intended
Tomb
Marsh
Leather
Blanket
Kin
Lordling
Promises
Heath
Rot
West
Under
Sworn
Rusted
Transformation
Quest
Pond
February (29):
Midwinter
Oath
Croak
Blush
Nimble
Malady
Deal
Roots
Willow
Orders
Moss
Lantern
Portent
Lovelock
Mourning
Horned
Keys
Earn
Remedy
Bog
Yearning
Lace
Trunk
Coiled
Linger
Soothsayer
Revenge
Oleander
Revered
March (31):
Metal
Pride
Gunpowder
Inheritance
Master
Brandish
Enchanted
Path
Sacrifice
Tailor
Crypt
Remain
Toad
Understanding
Legacy
Archway
Mirror
Omen
Home
Fur
Dust
Bow
Necklace
Sly
Permanent
Grin
Aim
Nest
Hex
Church
Valour
April (30):
Masonry
Inquiry
Ledge
Years
Hospitality
Clay
Priestess
Sunken
Lavender
Trust
Waters
Guilt
Dusk
Protection
Musket
Castle
Flee
Ancient
Value
Charm
Fever
Penance
Silk
Foxhole
Ornament
Tradition
Meld
Hare
Well
Pest
May (31):
Moonrise
Sea
Wander
Absolution
Bark
Ridge
Crackle
Sacred
Bind
Frozen
Thatch
Naming
Elder
Wealth
Dappled
Reading
Father
Cathedral
Tent
Grey
Payment
Enshrine
Tales
Velvet
Cell
Guide
Dawn
Mines
Riddle
Falling
Clock
June (30):
Vixen
Stolen
Worth
Tar
Alchemy
Fickle
Barrell
Harrow
Pyre
Chest
Worship
Steps
Armoury
Tear
Den
Ladder
Ruins
Bargain
Snake-leaves
Corn-doll
Garnet
Eccentric
Telescope
Antler
Stone
Break
Laden
Tower
Chain
Rook
July (31):
Masquerade
Pines
Mother
Herbs
Limb
Prize
Rescue
Scales
Melody
Shore
Tempest
Appease
Queen
Hermit
Separated
Bear
Righteous
Chimney
Storm
Manipulate
Boots
Apple
Rings
Crafted
Trail
Bleak
Dear-heart
Sanctify
Feast
Gathering
Door
August (31):
Luck
Display
Greed
Autumn
Found
Wildfire
Sleep
Grandfather
Watch
Hidden
Lookalike
Whimsey
Thicket
Runes
Horseshoe
Smoke
Awaken
Gargoyle
Wig
Poison
Thousand-fur
Shatter
Barrow
Tempt
Flag
Mercy
Web
Beast
Candle
Hunt
Serpent
September (30):
Belladonna
Magician
Birch
Reflection
Sight
Elaborate
Captive
Rope
Glass
Decades
Blade
Sorrow
Finickity
Carving
Stag
Fairy-tale
Spark
Blackthorn
Mountain
Century
Fury
Question
Claws
Fangs
Decay
Gift
Shipwreck
Blessed
Harvest
Crown
October (31):
Troll
Vines
Scattered
Prayer
Hatchet
Coat
Fireside
Grim
Sealed
Walled
Healing
Cobbled
Secure
Forest
Blind
Constellation
Shroud
Regal
Helm
Shadowed
Ward
Sinking
Hills
Goldsmith
Silver
Entwining
Soldier
Courtship
Guest
Defy
Crone
November (30):
Bones
Fear
Talisman
Song
Witness
Cloak
Plague
Hearth
Returned
Testament
Ceremonial
Yearning
Written
Silhouette
Gilded
Boundary
Hunger
Stranger
Fiend
Dungeon
Huntsman
Want
Birdsong
Wish
Hierophant
Favour
Dreaming
Coal
Brother
Fields
December (31):
Bottles
Curse
Horizon
Supplies
Wallowing
Hodge-podge
Thorns
Wisdom
Trinket
Warmth
Timber
Honest
Ritual
Welcome
Branches
Disguise
Bound
Gallows
Shield
Window
Finality
Tinder
Starlight
Winds
Bridge
Fortune
Tracks
River
Guardian
Summon
Warmth
Alternative Prompts:
Cunning
Puppet
Hound
Brambles
Eldritch
Garden
Eldritch
Cosmic
Bells
Tainted
Sleigh
Sect
Glowing
Coven
#writing#writing prompt#prompt list#january prompts#february prompts#march prompts#april prompts#may prompts#june prompts#july prompts#august prompts#september prompts#november prompts#october prompts#december prompts#horror#horror writing#horror prompts#creative writing#fiction writing#short stories#fanfic
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a short halsin/dark urge fic
Been thinking a lot and writing a lot today, tending a lot to my precious wip babies. Also wrote something very quick that I wouldn't give myself time to get too precious about.
I recently played through the scene in the Last Light Inn where Isobel and the inn are attacked and wrote a little thing about that.
Implied Halsin/Goneril (Dark Urge)
features some talk about injuries and lots of talk about blood
-
When the last demon was dead, Goneril sank to the floor and lay on her back while she gulped for air. Her blood was still screaming for Isobel’s blood, the urge thudding in her neck and temples. She could still do it. If Isobel died, so would everyone in the inn. One small brick removed from a dam that would unleash a flood of death.
Goneril touched her tongue tentatively to her lip and tasted the blood there. It seemed humanoid instead of whatever odd substance pulsed through the demon's veins. The richness of it soothed some of the ache in her head, what she imagined a drunk felt like when the first sip of wine started spreading out from their stomach. She scrubbed her wrist across her mouth before she could attempt another taste.
“Hey, soldier.” Karlach leaned over her with a frown. She held out her hand and Goneril took it, allowing the tiefling to lift her all the way to her feet with ease. “You don’t look so good. You hurt?”
“Just had the wind knocked out of me,” Goneril said. She was still panting. It felt like her lungs were only taking in half of what they needed.
“We should check out downstairs,” Karlach said. “Looks like Jaheria and Halsin took care of the little fucks down there, but -”
Goneril wasn’t really listening but when Karlach’s words landed, she turned and ran.
“Oh, hey - boss!” Karlach called out but Goneril was already turning a corner.
Halfway down the stairs, Goneril leapt over the side of the banister and landed softly on the balls of her feet. The tiefling she landed next to screamed in surprise but Goneril ignored her and set off running again.
The door to the large dorm room was open and Goneril slid to a halt in front of it. Her hands gripped the door frame so hard one of her knuckles cracked and her eyes immediately fell on Halsin. He was helping an injured Fist into one of the beds, urging a man with a dripping head wound to lay back against the pillows.
He was alive. He was alive. He was alive. Goneril set her hands on her hips, still in desperate need of oxygen, but feeling her breaths come easier. He was alive, he was alive.
Halsin was alive but he was injured. Two bloody gashes marked his bicep, like something with massive claws had taken a swipe at him. Blood had traveled all the way down to his wrist but Halsin was focused on his patient. His profile seemed calm as he held his hands above the Fist and golden energy began flowing from his hands.
Goneril looked between Halsin’s hands and his injury, lingering on the open flesh. Her stomach flipped dangerously. She stared and stared but she couldn’t read the poetry in the blood that dripped down his arm. It didn’t strike her as beautiful or sacred. It was just red. She turned away from the open door and pressed her back flat against the wall.
Across the large space, she saw Karlach coming down the stairs. Goneril closed her eyes and tried to picture her thoughts as a flowing river, passing over obstacles and endlessly moving forward.
“Uh - hey?” Karlach held her arms out at her sides. “Was it something I said?”
Goneril shook her head. Her chest had stopped heaving but her pulse still felt jittery.
“Sorry.”
“Well…come on,” Karlach said. “Isobel needs to talk to you.”
Goneril silently followed Karlach back upstairs. She had trouble listening when Isobel and Jaheria talked to her. They wanted her to go to Moonrise Towers but the only thing new about that was the urgency.
She knew Halsin could heal his own wound with magic but when the desire to kill Isobel seemed to claw its way up through her throat, Goneril pictured wiping the blood from his arm and stitching together the wound herself. The hunger usually retreated after the first few mental passes of her needle.
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Web of faith
Masterlist - BG3 masterlist
Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - drow ending
Words: 2664
Notes: this story has have two different endings, depending on which Kar'niss you prefer, this is the one for the drider lovers ;)
In any case I think you all for tagging along on Kar'niss' journey during this series and I apologies already if it gets a bit hectic in this last chapter, I was too impatient and wanted to get that ending ready xD
Chapter 7 - Drider ending
The moon hung low in the sky, being visible for the first time in years as the shadowcurse slowly released its hold on the lands, as Halsin carefully explained the procedure of an ancient ritual he came across during his travels to Kar'niss. The drider listened intently, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear, hope and doubt. The proposal Halsin presented was both promising and daunting - a chance to finally break free from the curse placed upon him by Lolth.
The ritual would not be easy but demand pain, time and sacrifice. Kar'niss would be bound to the surface for the rest of his life, forsaking his freedom for the possibility of regaining his drow form. And the path to transformation required even more than that. He would need to pledge his allegiance to yet another god, more precisely the daughter of Lolth, Eilistraee. The drider flinched at the mention of her name, he knew she was the opposite of her mother and yet, the painful memories of his transformation still lingered dangerously in his broken mind. Different thoughts swirled chaotically in Kar'niss' mind as he weighed the risks and rewards. Would he be condemned to a life of servitude once more, his worship leading him down another treacherous path? Or could he finally find redemption, love and a place where he truly belonged, together with his beloved?
His eyes flickered with determination as he gazed at Halsin. The druid understood the turmoil within the drider, for he too had faced similar choices in his past that lead down a dangerously destructive path. He gave the drider a reassuring nod, tapping his shoulder as he walked away, giving Kar'niss all the time he needed to make his choice.
Your heart weighed heavy as you left Moonrise Towers, heading towards Baldur's Gate without Kar'niss. You weren't sure why he decided to stay behind and travel with Halsin but you trusted the druid enough to keep your beloved safe until you had rid Faerûn of the Absolute's hold. You were to meet both again at the grove and so, with your mind reaching out one last time to Kar'niss', vowing to return safely and proclaiming your undying love, you ventured forth, leaving the shadow-cursed lands and your beloved behind.
Kar'niss entered the forest alone, Halsin setting up camp at the outskirts as only the ones in need of help may enter this place. As he hesitantly ventured further into the forest, Kar'niss couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. His eyes frantically darted from one shadow to the other, his senses heightened with every step. The dense foliage closed in around him, making it difficult to navigate through the twisted maze of trees. Thorned hedges blocked his path, forcing him to squeeze through narrow gaps, while branches covered in leaves blocked out the sunlight, casting an eerie gloom over the forest. The air grew heavy and Kar'niss could feel a sense of ancient power lingering in the air. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. Doubts and fears flooded his mind but he pushed them aside, focusing on his goal to break the curse that had befallen him, he had to, for you, so he pressed on, his determination unwavering. He heard strange noises and whispers in the wind, as if something was guiding him deeper into the heart of the forest. And then, in the midst of the darkness, Kar'niss saw a flicker of light. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Intrigued, he quickened his pace, following the faint glow through the winding maze of trees.
As he emerged into a clearing, his eyes widened in awe. Before him stood a majestic drow in the middle of the pond, gracefully floating above the water surface. She was not just a myth or a lesser spirit, he instantly knew that she was the goddess with the power to grant him the healing he sought so desperately.
"Eilistraee", Kar'niss whispered as he bowed before her.
A soft breeze whispered through the clearing and as he glanced upward, she stood before him, her finger gently pressing against his lips to hush him. In that moment, he felt the warmth of her divine presence reaching out to him, touching the depths of his being. With a trembling hand, Kar'niss reached deep into his heart, pulling out the memories of you, the one and only person he truly cared for and for whom he had defied already two gods. He poured his love and hope into those memories, offering them up as proof of his commitment. And as the memories dissipated into the air, the goddess' eyes were filled with a glowing soft beauty and a gentle smile played upon her lips, her finger leaving his mouth and pointing towards the small pond. His legs moved on their own accord, carrying him to the water, stopping only when just his head remained above the surface. Despite feeling cold, the water radiated a warm energy that seeped into his very being, chasing away the darkness in his mind. In that moment, Kar'niss felt the weight of the curse lift from his soul, replaced by a renewed sense of clarity. His mind still felt fractured but the incessant ramblings of the voice in his head ceased and the overwhelming sea of shame that threatened to engulf him gradually subsided. His drider body felt different, it felt...normal...like it was just another body, now devoid of the sharp, agonizing pain caused by the curse.
Kar'niss took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second, enjoying the calm and quiet, despite his body still being the one of a drider, and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing at Halsin's little makeshift camp.
"Welcome back", the druid smiled at him, "let's rest the night and head back to the grove at sunrise."
You didn't care about your triumph over the Absolute and you cared even less for the celebrations after as you swiftly packed your stuff and almost ran towards the city gates. Your steps halted when a hand gently rested on your shoulder and and the sound of a familiar chuckle, one that had warmed your heart throughout your journey, reached your ears.
"Eager to reunite with your beloved?", Gale asked, "You know, there's an exceptionally talented and, if I do say so myself, remarkably attractive wizard who could assist you in returning even faster. It's not wise to wander alone all the way."
You pulled Gale in a tight hug, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes as you chuckled. Amidst all the misery you had to endure, you felt truly blessed that fate had brought this wizard into your chaotic life. The kind friendship that formed between the two of you was more than precious and you truly hoped that this wouldn't be the last time you saw him.
"Promise me you'll come visit", you pleaded.
Gale nodded, mumbling an incantation and watched with teary eyes as you stepped through the portal.
Kar'niss let out a anxious sigh, his hands automatically reaching for the small vial that now dangled on a delicate silver chain around his neck. It was Eilistraee's parting gift to him before she sent him back to Halsin. As he touched the smooth glass, a sense of familiarity washed over him, accompanied by a faint sparkle of sky blue liquid under the warm glow of the setting sun. The words spoken by the goddess echoed in his mind, creating a comforting haze that eased him away from the lingering effects of Lolth's curse. As he stood at the small cliff next to the grove, he couldn't help but wonder how you would react upon your return, finding not a drider but the drow whom you had once loved. The smile forming on his lips quickly faded as apprehension replaced it, fearing the possibility that you might not come back at all. You were bound to fight the Absolute and her vile cult. What if you wouldn't survive this? What if you had survived and determined that, now that you were the saviour of Faerûn, you no longer needed a broken creature like him? It caused him pain, but could he really hold it against you for choosing someone else over him? Perhaps the wizard, judging by the way he looked at you, Kar'niss was almost certain he would attempt to steal you away from him. Maybe this could change if he'd finally become his old self again?
"Kar'niss", he heard your voice call out.
Fear engulfed his body as he dreaded the return of madness and voices. He hastily tore open the vial, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his trembling hands brought the small bottle to his lips. He couldn't allow this to happen again, he had to complete the ritual. He wouldn't be able to endure descending into pain and madness once more.
"Kar'niss, there you are!", you beamed as you sprinted towards the drider.
NOTE:
below is my drider ending for the story, if you prefer drows, you should click here and not read below ;)
He turned around in surprise, causing the vial to slip from his grasp and shatter into countless fragments on the ground. His seven eyes widened in shock as his body sank to the earth, desperately attempting to salvage the remaining liquid by frantically licking his fingers, hoping to obtain at least a few drops of the supposed healing potion.
"You came back?", he sobbed, "I'm sorry I messed up, I'm still a monster, I can never...I can never..."
"Silly Niss", you sighed, hugging him tightly, "of course I came back and I told you I don't care how you look now."
Stepping back slightly, you raised your hand, making sure he noticed the ring adorning your finger. His eyes welled up with emotion as his hand reached for yours, gently rotating the ring with his fingertips.
"I told you my answer is yes", you said softly, pressing a tender kiss to his lips, "and now that the Absolute is gone, I will remain by your side so that we can finally build a life together."
"But I'm a monster", he averted his gaze, his voice filled with doubt, "we can never venture elsewhere and I fear I cannot provide you with what you desire."
"Kar'niss, all I desire is you", your words were filled with a deep love and unwavering devotion as you cradled his head gently in your hands, "I never stopped loving you and I never will."
The touch of your skin against his was a sensation he had longed for, as your arms wrapped around him, pulling him close in a warm and tight embrace. Your face nestled against the side of his neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses in its wake. Kar'niss let out a contented sigh, savouring the newfound sensations that had awakened within him since he bathed in that enchanted pond. Even the slightest touch to his chitinous parts now sent waves of pure bliss coursing through his entire being.
A deep rumble emanated from his chest as your trail of kisses descended. Your hands found his pedipalps, gently caressing them and although it felt pleasant, the sensation was markedly different from before, less intense. However, something new stirred within him this time, something that hadn't been present during since he was turned into a drider. Awkwardly, he lifted himself up, feeling a long-forgotten tingling heat spreading through his lower regions. When he glanced down, he noticed a long hard skin coloured member nestled between two plates, just above the point where his drow and spider forms merged. Your eyes were already fixed on his newfound body part and before he could utter a word, your lips enveloped his firm length, sucking on it eagerly. Kar'niss let out an almost primal growl, his legs nearly giving way as waves of lust washed over him. This sensation surpassed anything he had ever experienced before, surpassing even the pleasures he enjoyed with you, whether as a drow or as a drider. Your gaze shifted up to his face, observing how your beloved unravelled under your touch. Your tongue swirled around the tip and you hummed in satisfaction as you witnessed his mouth hanging open, eyes closed, hips instinctively thrusting to feel more of you. It didn't take much time for him to be overwhelmed by pleasure, pushing him to the brink and soon your mouth was filled with his warm seed, a sickly sweet flavour tingling your taste buds.
Kar'niss', now clawless, fingers curled around your neck, his other hand supporting your lower back as he gently laid you down on the ground and swiftly removed your clothes.
"Niss please", you moaned, a gentle breeze brushing against your skin, causing shivers to run down your spine. A blush spread across your cheeks as you drew him closer, your lips colliding in a passionate kiss. He pulled away, slightly panting, his tongue gliding over his lips, his eyes greedily fixed on your delicate naked figure. It almost felt like your first time together after your reunion at Moonrise Towers, nervousness cursing through you, just as much as the anticipation of having him without all that broken madness. Your eyes closed in delight as soon as you felt two fingers teasingly graze your entrance, while his tender lips pressed against your sensitive nub.
"I remember your taste, my tiny goddess of flesh", he mumbled against your wetness before delicately sucking and licking your clit.
Your hips instinctively bucked, the sinful sounds of your moans blending with the rhythmic crashing of the waves below as Kar'niss' tongue skilfully danced between your wet folds, his fingers pumping into you at a lazy pace. The sensation was softer, his slender digits caressing you with tender care, curling slightly to find the right spot while his tongue pleasured you in the most intoxicating ways. Kar'niss' heart overflowed with warmth; he would never be a drow again, yet here you both were, completely vulnerable and consumed by each other. You fell apart for him, still loving him unconditionally. It was never about his appearance for you; what truly mattered was that every trace of Lolth's curse had vanished from his mind. This allowed him to once again experience the warmth of your touch with his own body and soul, an unbreakable connection. Your climax approached rapidly, however you didn't want to cum just yet, not like this, you needed all of him inside you, so you grasped his head and guided him to move up.
Kar'niss immediately understood your desire and lifted you effortlessly, drawing you closer as he stood tall. His hands secured your position as his hard cock glided into you and you both moaned in pleasure. He thrust into you at a merciless, chasing both of you towards the edge as neither of you had the patience to go slow. In that moment, time seemed to rewind, transporting you back to that small sanctuary in the Underdark, bodies and souls dancing in perfect harmony through the planes of your desires as the pleasure of your sweet release embraced both of you simultaneously. Kar'niss almost melodically uttered your name before gently lowering you to the ground, his breath heavy and erratic. Your hand instinctively sought out his head, tenderly running your fingers through his white hair, silently inviting him to recline beside you. The drider curled up, enfolding his arms around your waist, pulling you tightly against his body. It almost looked strange as his towering spider-like form laid on its side, eight legs encasing yours, while his upper drow body clung affectionately to you, his head serenely resting upon yours.
"What's on your mind, my beloved?", you whispered softly.
"We are finally here together. I'm...I'm worthy and we'll have our future."
The grin that tugged at the edges of your mouth was irresistible and Kar'niss couldn't contain their own joy either. Your arduous journey, though it began with sorrow, had reached its end....a rather happy end....
Tags:
@orionspaperwork
@mxxny-lupin
@traumaramacenter
@dark-and-kawaii
#baldur’s gate 3#bg3#bg3 x reader#bg3 x you#kar'niss#karniss#bg3 kar'niss#drider#drider x reader#drider x you#kar'niss x reader#kar'niss x you#halsin#bg3 halsin#drow reader#drow kar'niss#happy ending
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THE COMPLETE COPOLLO MASTERLIST
Desperately looking for fics to satisfy your obsession with the RRverse's most dumpsterfire of a ship? Look no further than this post :3
I have Copollo fics ranging from Ao3, FF.net, and here on tumblr! Each fic will be linked, and if the author has a tumblr (that I know of - if you know their tumblr let me know!), they will be tagged.
Also, before we begin, I would just like to say that when I say every Copollo fic I can find is on this list, I mean all of them. This includes fics that are canon compliant, crack, aus, and those with darker tones. If that isn't your thing, all you have to do is avoid clicking on said fics. They're all organzied very nicely if I do say so myself. Nothing more to it :3
Look below the cut for the list! If you have any fics that slipped between my grabby fingers let me know so I can add them! :3
Roman Empire Era
A Cruel Occasion by @seductivegrapethrowing
Grapes and Blood (written in German) by Buttons_Buttons (Rated G)
Fairness by mothmansaysgayrights (Rated G)
The Death of Emperor Commodus by LusiaLovegood (Rated G)
Long Life to You by kitatyourservice (Rated G)
Death's Embrace by me (Rated G)
When the Day Met the Night by me (Rated G)
When Everything's Wrong, You Make It Right by me (Rated G)
Call Me Commodus / Today I'll Be Your Ruler / I'll Also Die Here by kitatyourservice (Rated G)
Of Broken Promises by @money-and-dandellions (Rated G)
Rewrite The Stars by me (Rated G)
Keeping Warm by @soleil-in-retrograde (I reread the Copollo part of this over and over :3) (Rated T)
vow by @daisy-mooon (Rated T)
my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear by localcryptidlivinlife (Rated T)
Always Told You Not To Love Me (Now Look What You Made Me Do) by anxious_tofu (Rated E)
ghost of mine (you're taking up all my time) by anxious_tofu (Mainly perpollo, but I read it for the Copollo :3) (Rated E)
Trials of Apollo
Canon Compliant
As Far As I'm Concerned, You're Just Another Picture To Burn by @thatdamseries
A Pity by kitatyourservice (Rated G)
Song of Apollo by @tsarinatorment (For the Copollo crumb within :3) (Rated T)
Fractures of the Mind (Heart) by me :3 (Rated T)
The Devil Within (His Mind) also by me (Rated T)
Chapter 5 of some ToApril drabbles because my head is as empty as Meg's by orphan_account (Rated T)
Divinity, Fire, and Former Lovers by @seapinecone (Rated T)
Aus
All's Fair in Love & War by me (Rated G)
It's Be Okay by Apollo4612 (Rated Fiction T)
@daisy-mooon
Taunt (Rated G)
Outnumbered (Rated T)
Blindfold (Rated T)
Spark (Rated M)
Triumvirate Wins Au by bacchis
to eros, in secrecy
den of the lion (Rated E)
there are a couple more fics in this series if you're interested but only the two above have brief Copollo moments (i will admit this au lives rent-free in my brain)
AUs
Winds of Ruin by me (Rated G)
Coward by @nyaningthroughlife (Rated T)
Moonrise by me
Crack (when i say every fic, I mean every fic)
It's a Fun Time in Commodupolis! by Anonymous (Rated M)
Dark
Nothing Like The Sun by Cola_bubblegum
Day & Night by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash) (Rated E)
TAG LIST: @moodyseal @plastikstarz @hazardous-lightdas12 @worlds-oldest-teenager here it is! :3
#copollo#masterpost#the trials of apollo#toa#trials of apollo#apollodus#apollo x commodus#apollo#commodus#pjo apollo#toa apollo#pjo commodus#toa commodus#toa fanfiction
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jaheira/astarion headcanons:
he constantly flirts (which is par for the course for astarion), as early as the end of Act 2, but it is just so ineffective. so ineffective. your lies mean nothing pretty boy!
jaheira enjoys rebuffing this and coming up with creative ways to tell him his lines do nothing, lol.
he also constantly winds her up as well. will joke about her being a bare-foot hippie for simply being a druid. has called her 'the great jaheira' and 'the high harper' before ('and what does the high harper think?'), just to annoy. attention-seeking behaviour!
this is admittedly something jaheira will also do. loves to rib him for complaining about the damp, the wet, the cold, the mud, nature in general, walking too much, carrying too much, etc. will call him a soft little baby and an aged old man at the same time.
they are a bickering couple
the fact that astarion couldn't give a shit about nature while jaheira is literally a druid is a running joke and theme when it comes to dunking on each other tbh.
another related running theme: when they finally do hit it off, it's a running joke they never actually have sex in a bed. at camp, in a field, in the dirt, on the floor or against the wall in an abandoned building - but almost never in a bed. (real reason: I did not realise you could rent the elfsong out, sorry. but also astarion does complain about this of course.)
astarion LOVES to try and get jaheira to talk shit. she presents herself as somewhat above it, but jaheira is probably partial some gossip and I think a habit that does begin in the early stages is they will share a bottle of wine and they will start being old judgy queens together
'you're becoming a bad influence,' she'll say, wrinkling her nose, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. 'Was I not already?' She rolls her eyes, walks away. 'All the best things are, darling!' he'll call out, with a cackle, as she walks away.
when jaheira actually turns and gives astarion a genuine and sincere compliment... critical hit, maximum damage, hits the fucking bullseye.
other ways of critically hitting: any gentle caress to his face after a genuine compliment.
lots of genuine arguments as well about adventuring choices. I think one thing that does draw me is that yes, astarion does have people pleasing tendencies but he does tend to be quite vocal about his opinion. I'm fairly sure he and jaheira will clash often BEFORE he becomes super drawn into any kind of romance arc & I think in some ways that's fairly good for him.
astarion thinks the fact that she can turn into a panther and just tear into something is the hottest thing and quite frankly I think he was interested as soon as he saw her do this in the moonrise towers fight.
on jaheira's end... quite frankly if he wasn't a vampire and if they didn't have a job to do she would have just bedded him sooner, he's easy on the eyes and good fun, so why not? It does hit her in the middle of their flirting period that in another universe she wouldn't have hesitated.
when they do hook up jaheira tries to keep it a secret / on the down-low. this lasts about five days LOL.
it's not actually astarion's fault - he can be discreet and respects her wishes - it's just this camp is full of gossip mongers and lae'zel has bat ears. within five days everyone Knows.
at least one person (probably wyll, since he's fairly insightful) thought they'd been hooking up since they hit rivington.
jaheira doesn't realise astarion is slightly older than her until she tries calling him cub.
he laughs her off as a flatterer. she's confused, he tells her to just go on and guess his age. she thinks he's 120 years old.
'Add another century to that darling and you're almost there'. Cue jaheira being slightly stunned and astarion absolutely revelling in it.
I think she will still sometimes refer to him / treat him as if he is younger and he to her as if she is older though. It becomes a running inside joke.
biting: very much off the table when they do finally hook up.
(this does not stop astarion brushing his fangs against her skin to tease her when they hook up. 'Careful. No biting.' 'Oh, I wouldn't dare').
the fact that he is a vampire actually is one of jaheira's concerns and a small point of contention. jaheira has an interesting banter where she explains about a time she killed a spawn quite dramatically - while she's not a 'kill on sight' reckless moralist, she's got no great love for the creatures, and as much as she does come to enjoy the banter and the company, it's tinged with wariness in the first half of Act 3, because Jaheira is slow to trust and quick to suspect
the first bite happens well after cazador is dealt with. honestly I can see it happening on the eve of the final battle. because of jaheira's initial wariness, it becomes a real moment of intimacy and trust. she lets him drink from the arm, rather than the neck, just to maintain more control, has healing and resurrection scrolls prepared (she does not tell him this because she doesn't want to freak him out), etc. But he's able to stop when she asks. After it's over there is a very warm moment, after astarion gives her his sincere, genuine thanks, of her cradling his face and calling him a messy eater (lol)
speaking of Cazador, that's... honestly, it's a Lot given they're having a 'light & breezy' romance and they're still in the casual dalliance stages, have only just started hooking up if at all. jaheira ends up learning about some of the horrific trauma through seeing rather than Astarion telling and I think it'd be a bit mortifying if he weren't so singularly focussed on the goal.
I think Jaheira offers to share a bottle of wine with him the night after. I think he takes up her offer and it's a mix of talking about what happened in his own words (Astarion is actually fairly direct when it comes to talking about traumatic incidents) and also talking about something completely different when it gets too much.
Things definitely do ramp up in the final stretch / final few days before the Battle with the Elder Brain. Lots of post-battle shenanigans with some honest and quite raw moments? It's one of the most intense points of their fling (which increasingly feels NOT like a fling).
But I think Jaheira instinctively draws back after the final battle and tries to walk back some of the intensity and intimacy that developed due to 'it might be our last chance', due to some ingrained fears of intimacy and loss + trying to rationalise it as an impulsive, heat-of-the-moment thing + an expectation that Astarion would just move on anyway (false).
Astarion goes off to become a hero in the spawn ending. He does often return to the gate and they always arrange to meet for a drink. There's a lot of catching up, chatting shit, but also Jaheira increasingly turns to him for advice and to get his perspective on an issue. I think she trusts his viewpoint and when she can get in her head about not being able to save everything or everyone, or a hard choice she has to make, he'll often just go, somewhat bluntly, 'well you did the important thing, didn't you?' and put things in perspective. You killed the bad guy, you stopped the plot, you saved that woman's life. Trust yourself more. (He'll attempt to walk this back with a joke about how he's still a libertine scoundrel; Jaheira will laugh him off)
'You work too hard' is a common complaint of Astarion's. He's right. Jaheira always appreciates hearing it.
I think it's here we might also get touches of Astarion's 'I want to be close without having sex' we see in Act 2. I think there's at least on occasion where they initiate sex, he backs out, she's supportive and they end up cuddling.
Something Jaheira discovers way too late, following the events of the game: he's damned good at giving a massage. 'You didn't think to tell me this while we were sleeping in the dirt?' (Response is something like: 'Oh Jaheira, you wish you'd used me more for my body? My my.')
As said before, the 'I actually have sincere feelings for you' confession comes unexpectedly during the epilogue party, astarion impulsively ends up telling her. Jaheira... has to suddenly deal with the distance she put up like a wall coming crashing down because Astarion is impulsive and bad at holding things in
I think in an interesting mirror to Astarion's request to go slow with sex, Jaheira says she'll need to go slow with intimacy and romance. It's been a while (more than long enough), but she's not really had anything serious since her husband died.
I think as a compromise they maintain long distance for a bit, Astarion continues to adventure, but he'll visit with increasing frequency and for increasingly long periods. Jaheira will, after a while, insist he stay with her and not just in a tavern, and this gradually morphs into him spending months at a time in Baldur's Gate before a lead will pull him in another direction.
Which I think is good for them both. I think Astarion does well from a chance to just develop an identity for himself without being 'a partner' and grow on his own through adventuring. I think it also helps things develop at a pace Jaheira's comfortable with and means Jaheira can set some very concrete boundaries.
As things become serious and Astarion just drops the mask, they're very much 'fondly rib each other in public whenever one of them is even a displays affection, but deeply soft and sweet with each other in private'
Takes them a long while to say anything like 'I love you'.
Personally I can see them doing it after the other gets injured in battle. Berating them for being reckless and then telling them they love them, they're terrified, etc. Quite frankly I can see this happening to them both, but given Jaheira has lost a love before... more meaningful from her mouth.
Astarion is nothing like Khalid and Jaheira is very thankful for this. He's a different thing entirely, but it's not any kind of lesser love either.
#astarion#jaheira#jahstarion#jaheira/astarion#please enjoy these sets of headcanons i wrote at 4am because i was dealing with back pain. most fucking 30s thing ever.#i turn 30 i develop backpain i get obsessed with old queen/old queen. standard.
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got anything for Ketheric or the Oathbreaker Knight by chance? 🫣
First time writing on my PC... formatting might be strange. I apologize now. I also can see my top followers? Shoutout to you guys. Not proofread... have a blast.
Ahead contains some content like smut and such.
Ketheric is an older man. We all know this. He doesn't have the stamina of a typical, younger man. That doesn't mean he doesn't try to keep up with you in both domestic activities and the bedroom. A lot of his time is taken up by governing Moonrise and overseeing his growing army. As well as assisting Orin and Gortash's plans for domination. His spare time is spent with you as much as he can! Whether that's doing something like a hobby of yours or his. One good feature of his is that he's always showing interest in your own interests. He wants to learn about you when he can. He'll make sure you get the finest food and treatment around Moonrise that he can assure. As far as the bedroom goes, he is similar to Oathbreaker in a sense. He doesn't typically tolerate disobedience or brats. He is too old and tired for that shit. He will come down with a harsh hand if you disrespect him in any sort. Now, he is older so it takes him a little longer to acquire an erection. He admires your form just like any other but he is seasoned. Ketheric doesn't get hard just from seeing someone nude. He needs a more seductive dance (whether that's you actually actively seducing him or engaging in some lengthy foreplay). Once both you and him are proper and ready for the more intimate acts he knows what he is doing. He treats you like fine porcelain (but he's not afraid to scratch it a bit) and focuses on your pleasure for the majority. Honestly, it can be hard wrangling him from between your thighs at this point. You'll have cum to his mouth and fingers a minimum of twice before he's even entering you. Cock aching and his chest heaving with your spent over his lips and beard. His thrusts aren't particularly bruising but they seek all your sensitive spots with such ease it's mind-melting.
Oathbreaker is a different story. He is an immortal entity so I don't believe he physically ages. He does age mentally, though. The knight has been alive for too long to also take shit. He won't regard you if you're a normal person. Only way to garner attention is if you're an Oathbreaker but... we all make sacrifices, right? It wasn't intended to meet him when you first broke your oath. The shame washing over you as the world darkened and a figure filled your vision. Though, the longer he spoke and... sympathized(?) with you the more it seemed alright. He stuck around your camp so you stuck around him. Somehow, you two ended up creating a bond of sorts. He was full of wisdom, more-specifically about your paladin nature. His ominous aura, deep voice and distinct features were attractive. When he hears wind about your attraction to him? He has a blast with it, honestly. The next time you talk to him he makes relentless comments. About how you're attracted to a being of another realm. A man who has seen nearly anything and was the first to break his own oath. You're about a puddle before he shows any of his own interest. It's been awhile since he's had a toy... and a toy you are. He regards you as if you're a dirty being. You must repent to him for going against your oath- for finding him attractive. What would your god think? I am unsure if he has... parts. He will fuck you with his fingers and the hilt of his sword, though. He takes his time with it and eases you into everything. He is a consent king beyond it all. Constantly asking for reassurance in subtle ways. The sex is less about his pleasure rather than dominance. To see you fall apart and break under his touch is pleasure enough. Kudo's to you if you find a way to make him cum!
#my asks#anon asks#bg3#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate iii#baldurs gate 3 x reader#bg3 x reader#baldur’s gate 3 x reader#baldur’s gate iii#baldur's gate 3#ketheric x reader#ketheric thorm#bg3 ketheric#ketheric thorm x reader#ketheric x tav#oathbreaker#oathbreaker knight#oathbreaker knight x reader#oathbreaker knight x tav#oathbreaker knight bg3#ketheric x reader smut#oathbreaker knight x reader smut#not sfw#oathbreaker knight smut#ketheric thorm smut
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What do you think Kar'niss would do if he survives the death of the Absolute and all? With everything over and we'll say that he is by Tav's side until the end as well. Would he worship Tav as another kind of god/goddess, or... something else?
Hm this is an interesting question because there are so many variables at play. With the way Larian has structured the game it seems like all companions have the ability to shift toward good or evil. Of course I've not done a playthrough with Karlach, Wyll and Laezel in my party from start to finish but it's in the works. I know they can dip if Tav pisses them off too much but for the sake of ease, I'll just assume basic good versus evil. Act 3 spoilers head.
Good Ending: At first Kar'niss would've been very hesitant to join Tav and friends, likely even violent. It'd probably take a high persuasion roll to get him into your party. Tav just destroyed those he was loyal to, after all. The artifact could do well to block the tadpoles influence but Kar'niss' shattered mind is a different kettle of fish entirely. I imagine the first interactions with him would be aggressive and stand-offish. After all he was just ripped away from his new home and lost his "Queen". He's likely feeling disjointed, scared and a bit lonely without "Her" voice to bring him comfort. It'll be up to Tav to replace the Absolute's voice with their own. Not only that, but Tav could give Kar'niss healthy love and attention, help break through those years of abuse and build his confidence. It would be slow going because he has so little self worth and trust.
Then there is the matter of him being a drider. I don't think Kar'niss would want to stay in that shape, he likely longs to be a full drow again. That begs the question, does Tav find a way to transform him back or let him stay a drider? Since Tav controls the narrative it'll be up to them on if he switches back. To my knowledge the only way to undo a drider transformation is a wish spell which does exist in the BG3 universe. There could be other ways if Larian wanted to keep it simple but assuming Tav somehow finds someone with a spare wish spell then perhaps that is how he is changed back.
At the end, if Tav works toward this goal, Kar'niss would find more of his own voice. His confidence would grow and he'd learn to stand on his own rather than mindlessly following others at the drop of a hat. He'd be able to think critically and make choices not influenced by whispers in his ear. In other words, he'll -choose- to stay with Tav rather than feel he's obligated to. I don't think his mind will ever fully heal, it's taken too much damage to come back from the torture he's been through. Tav helps keep him grounded though, working with his short comings rather than against it. If Tav romances him then Kar'niss laments in the final cutscene:
"When you found us--me, I was in a fog. My body moved as if controlled by magic, but I was not the one commanding it to do so. From the Underdark to Moonrise I played a pawn for the sake of someone else's power. I thought I was doing the right thing, I believed it in the very depths of my heart. They would've condemned me to death and, mind controlled as I was, I would've marched into the sword with my head held high. Not only do I owe my life, I owe my very mind to your aid. I was nearly forever lost, thank you for seeing more in me than an irredeemable monster. I want to remain by your side anywhere the winds take us. I love you."
Bad Ending: While not requested I figured I’d write it up for the sake of curiosity. It starts very similarly except Tav uses their tadpole to overwhelm Kar'niss with authority. Tav may even convince Kar'niss that they are the physical embodiment of the Absolute to keep his compliance throughout. Kar’niss is more agreeable at the start due to this, devout and eagerly awaiting commands. The more Tav chooses to cater to his psychosis rather than break him from it he becomes even more unhinged overtime. There may even be exchanges where Kar’niss seems to talk to himself and ignore Tav completely from time to time. He’s lost to the voices in his mind and the fervent beliefs that have followed him for sometime. When he does have moments of clarity his focus is on doing the Absolute’s will. It’s an obsession and he seems to want to talk about little else. Tav could romance Kar’niss during this time but something may feel off about the interaction. Kar’niss will worship Tav, do anything that is asked, but there is a sense that he is doing so out of blind devotion rather than true affection. It’s empty. His love is tainted by a belief and trust born from deception.
As their journey nears its end, Kar’niss’ mental state has declined to a point where his speech breaks in the middle of conversations. He may zone out and some of his party interactions out in the wild could cease altogether. He’ll refer to Tav as “Majesty” and little else. The perfect obedient pet. Assuming Tav goes with the ending to destroy the Absolute then that fogs up Kar’niss’ fate a bit. I don’t think the other endings allow a romance cutscene to play at the end but I could be wrong. I haven’t tackled them all just yet so I’ll stick with the tadpole annihilation ending here. Even though the tadpoles are gone Kar’niss’ mind is well and truly fucked. Any sense of self has been all but destroyed, leaving nothing behind but a temperamental fanatic in a worse state than Tav found him in. Any use of the word ‘I’ to refer to himself has dropped from his speech completely.
“Majesty, w-we survived. Have we done well? Our devotion is unending for you. Tell us where we shall go and it will be done. We have never known such bliss, such comfort. Our pledge to you will never falter so long as we still draw breath. You need more followers, an army fit for a God/Goddess, and we will provide it Majesty. Just...don’t forget about us. We are still your favorite, yes we are...no one else can love you like us. NO ONE ELSE! Our love for you knows no limits, we will give you everything you desire. We are ready to march by your side, to the ends of the world.”
These are just two of MANY possible outcomes for poor Kar’niss. I think Larian would make his bad ending tenfold worse than I could ever conceive and that will haunt my nightmares for sometime.
Sorry this is so long, my mind wouldn’t shut up. I hope this answers your question. Thanks for the ask!
#baldur's gate 3#kar'niss#drider#bg3#karniss#baldurs gate 3#answered#long post#I got on this train of thought and before I knew it I had two pages of word vomit typed out#whoops#act 3 spoilers
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been thinking about the way things go down for a durge who is trying to be better, make better choices, and...
She doesn't want to lose Gortash. She can't lose Gortash. He's the only one who's ever seen all of her and still cared about her. She knows this, even if she can't remember it.
So, she begs him. Begs, and pleads, and nearly bursts into tears as she whispers, "Don't make me, don't make me." Showing her soft underbelly when she knows she probably shouldn't. Knows he probably sees it as weakness; liability.
But she can't help it. She's just so fucking done with it all, with fighting against a world that hates her. That has always hated her. Done with fighting in the name of something that has always just seen her as a pawn, to be used and discarded.
Just... give her the last Netherstone. Or better yet, just change his mind; help her stop the brain, she pleads. The plan is a lost cause after Orin destroyed her, anyway, from what she could glean from her surprise talk with the brain at Moonrise.
Please.
And yet, he doesn't. When he's gone, she falls to her knees. Distraught. Despairing. She does nothing but stare at his corpse while Karlach rages about her own mortality, about the absurdity that his death could mean something to anyone.
But she's well and truly alone now. The one person who has seen all of her and never flinched, not once, is gone. Abandoned by the god she dedicated her entire life to because she didn't want to do things exactly as He dictated. A silly little plaything, a dull and broken tool. Held at a distance by the connections she's made in her confused, winding path back home.
Enver could never be mistaken as a particularly warm man, but the world is still colder for his loss.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 spoilers#the dark urge#enver gortash#durgetash#goretash#ch: ether#my writing
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