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tripleyeeet · 10 months

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PAINFUL VULNERABILITIES (5)

SUMMARY: When your past begins to blend into your present, you find yourself longing for Astarion's comfort.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,648

WARNINGS: ANGST, hurt/comfort, body horror elements, descriptions of torture involving a knife, panic attack, sort of made up Illithid lore??? (I promise there's comfort in the end, I'm sorry!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 5 literally doesn't have a prompt because this idea got terribly out of hand so let's just ignore that and enjoy the angst, shall we?

(Also again, a lot of people's tags weren't working so next time if you haven't fixed it I will be taking you off the list because taglists are a bitch!)

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

The nightmares start a few days later.

At first, they’re subtle. Wisps of darkness cloud your thoughts, leaving no memory behind. Silently it lingers, creeping through your skull in waves that inevitably crash against the shore, ripping you awake —leaving you breathless each time you’re left gasping for air in your dishevelled bedroll. When it happens, it always makes you jolt up to look around, trying to find the cause of your plague. The reason why you’re suddenly so wary to lay your head each night.

When you reach the Underdark they only get worse.

What were once forgotten memories become recurring torments. Endless onslaughts of clawed hands that scratch at your flesh, pulling back skin in massive chunks that pluck excitedly at your insides.

Thanks to the powers of the Illithid you feel every movement. Every poke and prod slips through you like a knife, cutting you down piece by piece until you’re nothing but a shell. An empty carcass of bone that’ll inevitably be harvested for a purpose far greater than yourself.

Or so she says. As you lie there, writhing in pain, blinking to shield the teeth that bear witness to your torture, you hear her whisper cool and quiet, telling you of your death. Of your fated downfall, and then of your—

You always wake up before she finishes.

Before you can hear her utter the words you’ve heard a thousand times. Feeling the burn of your lungs, you stretch your fingers across your chest in remembrance, breathing in and out as the skin beneath your digits runs hot and you’re forced to forget the experience all over again.

When you reach camp that night, sore from the seemingly never-ending mushroom forage, you find yourself dreading the prospect of such sleep. Even through the exhaustion, the last thing you want to do is rest your head lest she arrives tonight, so you fight the urge, settling in against the edge of the fire.

“You look tired.”

You turn to look at Gale with half-closed eyes, offering him the softest grin you can muster before turning toward the flames. They seem brighter than usual. A decorative flash of warm-toned hues that make you blink and rub your eyes, somehow feeling even more languid.

“Mushroom hunting take it out of you?”

You hum, making no move to look his way as you pull your knees to your chest, curling in on yourself for comfort.

As much as you’ve grown to like Gale’s company, all you want right now is silence. A moment of peace where you can just stare into the fire and let your eyes burn from something other than the lack of sleep. Especially after spending the day alongside Lae’zel and Shadowheart as some poorly trained mediator. Just the thought of opening your mouth to speak feels like a threat to your vocal cords. The prospect of speech too much to handle, even as Gale begins to fill you in on his and Wyll’s misadventures with a nearby myconid colony.

“They’re truly such interesting creatures. Did you know…”

His voice falls on deaf ears, earning you nothing but a confused sigh once he realizes you’re not listening. Mostly because it’s not normal for you to just blatantly ignore your peers.

“Are you alright? Need anything? Perhaps a drink or a—“

You’re standing upright before he can even finish his sentence, brushing the ass of your leathers before walking away, paying no mind to the curious wizard as he looks around the camp, catching the eye of Wyll who merely shrugs.

It’s not like you to leave. To ignore a friend mid-conversation but your voice is gone. Lost to the void of constant intercession and a brewing anxiety that sits in your chest. As you walk towards your tent you can feel it shifting. Starting at your gut, everything twists to form a sickly sting. A stabbing pain that throbs within your abdomen, threatening to grow as you part the fabric and crawl inside, plopping into bed face first.

Despite your better judgement, you let out a low groan you’re sure at least someone hears causing you to frown, knowing that you’re better than this. Better than neglecting your health because of some silly nightmares. Better than letting the fear of your past get the better of you. Better than brooding about it.

Turning to lie on your back, you palm the sockets of your eyes in frustration, letting your mind wander. Allowing yourself to feel everything you’ve been suppressing over the last twelve or so hours.

Aside from exhaustion, it’s mostly Astarion that surfaces. His face in the darkness looking at you as you left camp that morning, barely awake enough to give him a nod. In an instant it was as if he was there and gone, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place before shifting out of view alongside an overly excited Karlach. It was the kind of look that made you question its intentions. Its knitted brows and pursed lips rising and falling through your memories between the scuffles of your two companions.

As you walked along the edges of the Underdark’s cliff sides, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it represented. What emotion it was trying to convey in such a small amount of time before it disappeared completely?

As you lie there now, once again imagining its form you feel it’s something bordering on pity. A showcase of solidarity in your obviously failing quest for sleep.

Astarion may not say much about your struggles —unlike him, you don’t complain about the endless problems that you face on the road— but you know he’s still aware of them. He’s too perceptive not to be.

So why hasn’t he said anything?

A heavy breath escapes. A shaky one damaged by speculation. Ruined by the assumption that it’s because he doesn’t care. That perhaps you aren’t worth the trouble of a little bit of worry despite previous actions.

You may have killed for him —had his back long before anyone else, but have such feelings ever been reciprocated? Has your worth been proven now that you’ve slain a man in his honour? And if so, how much worth do you truly hold? Is it substantial enough to ask you how you are? Big enough to look at you with any semblance of fondness? Or is it all just for show?

There’s a part of you that hopes it is. That the moments filled with kindness are nothing more than lies told to keep your attention. If he were lying, it wouldn’t necessarily make the way you feel right now any better but it’d mean that there’s an end. A barrier to stop you from getting in too deep. An excuse you could use to explain the naivety of thinking he may care.

Because it wavers —his care. Some days it’s obvious, sometimes it’s not. You can never guess when the care will appear, only that when it’s there and eventually dissipates you’ll be left alone again, wondering why he puts the extra effort in at all. Why he reels you in only to let you go, forcing you to question his intentions as you watch with careful eyes for those moments of reassurance. Moments that you can never prepare for. Ones that gnaw at your heart with pointed teeth wrapped beneath hungry lips, starving for the truth.

You’re not too sure you’re ready to take that leap yet. To push him for the answers you know he’ll just avoid. He’s never been quick to trust and even when he does allow you in there’s still a blockage of sorts. An obvious resistance that sits between you, forcing you to settle regardless of the fear you hold inside your chest, wondering what would happen if you tried to push.

You assume it’d ruin you. That, more than likely, pushing too hard would only create an even deeper wedge, making the truth that much more unattainable, leaving you with less than what you started with.

Shooting upwards, you groan again and breathe, resting your face against your open palms in irritation.

All you want to do is sleep, knowing the only reason you’re thinking so much is because you’re avoiding it. If you think you can’t drift which means the nightmares can’t come, leaving you with two bad endpoints you know you have to choose between.

It makes you want to scream just thinking about it but instead of giving in to such desires you merely settle back down, pulling the fabric of your bedroll up to your shoulders before closing your eyes.

You’re going to get some sleep whether or not it kills you. Whether or not you have to endure the pain of a thousand deaths all at once before you’re inevitably woken up in a stupor of suffering.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift. One minute you’re lying there, counting your breaths like sheep and the next you’re out, filtering through a darkness that feels all too familiar. At first, it’s just there, coating your skin in nothingness. Lost to the void of slumber, you’re at peace for the first time in forever but as expected eventually the shadows unfold. Part to reveal a body of pale skin wrapped around viscous veins full of the blood of many.

It beckons you almost immediately. The flutter of that icy voice saying your name over and over until you come to call, allowing yourself to move. Letting your feet guide you to her presence, you feel the waves and how they threaten to spill over as you kneel before her, feeling her grab your throat.

Her fingers twitch and curl but never grip as she leans forward, offering you a grin. “You’ve been avoidant.”

You don’t speak. For a moment your lips part, feeling the presence of her thumb glide across the base of your throat but you don’t dare speak.

“You know it’s coming, my dear. You can’t avoid it.”

Your tongue moves to wet your lips while you blink, trying your best to let the visions of her angular face blur into the night that surrounds you, realizing she looks just as you remember her. All papery and washed out —a mere shell of herself now that you’ve gone missing. Her features drying out with each passing day you find yourself separate.

“Come back to me. Let me protect you.”

You swallow hard and turn your head, feeling the nails of her fingers dig into your neck prompting you to cry out.

She doesn’t let you do much else. Quickly moving on from the one-sided conversation to grab her knife, you watch as she mumbles under her breath, turning the blade between her fingers with a grin. “In untimely death comes timely renewal, remember?” she says, letting it ghost across your bare chest, pushing the edge against it until it breaks the skin.

You barely feel the first insertion. As the blade dips through the layers of your flesh, the only thing you feel is her breath. The pattern of air that puffs against your face as she recites those aforementioned words, taunting you as she pulls it down.

In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal…

As the knife moves lower, you repeat the words in unison like a mantra, struggling to get them out through gritted teeth as she works to cut you open. To slice your torso from the sternum down revealing countlessly re-healed bones and slimy organs that lie in waiting for her to pluck.

Hovering above you, her hands move to survey such handiwork, her fingers stroking the edges of your open skin before they inevitably dive right in, ripping you awake.

You feel the pressure of her inside your gut before it really hits that it’s done. Shooting upward, you cough and double over in an instant, pressing your hands shakily to the ground in front of you.

It’s the worst dream you’ve had yet. Longer than all the others, you can feel the adrenaline of it all penetrating your thoughts. Overthrowing every single anxiety you’ve ever felt as you sniff back tears, pushing yourself towards the entrance of your tent.

Pulling it open, you look around the camp in desperation, catching the eye of Wyll who raises his brow, watching as you shake your head, slipping further into the ground.

Before you can even think he’s on you, reaching for your shoulders, asking you what’s wrong and how he can help. In response, you make no effort to reach back. To remedy your pain as you continue to shake and cry, sobbing out the cursed mantra through heavy gasps that leave him panicking.

“Guys! Something’s wrong!”

As he calls out to the rest of the group, you quickly find yourself surrounded by familiar faces. All of them looking down to see your hysteria unfold.

“What happened?” Dropping to her knees, Shadowheart’s the first to your side, moving her hands to cup your face before you swat her away, mouthing the words over and over and over again.

“I don’t know!”

“You don’t know?”

The two of them continue to bicker. As Wyll explains the way you crawled out of your tent, mumbling something about death, you force yourself to shuffle back, maneuvering your body so that you’re half sitting inside your tent again, watching it all unfold. Focusing on the confusion as Lae’zel and Karlach stand in the wings, muttering to each other words you can’t quite hear while Gale stares down at your mouth, watching the words you speak only to yourself as your eyes start to dart around.

Surveying the rest of the camp, you wipe away your tears and try to breathe, forcing your mouth to stop its repetitions once you remember the ache inside your chest.

Because of the Illithid, you can still feel her handiwork. Beneath your sweaty tunic, you can sense its edges burning —stinging from the aftermath as you press a hand to your sternum, making sure you’re still intact. Making sure your organs aren’t on display as you catch sight of Astarion coming up the path.

He’s nose deep in a book when you see him, scanning the pages with interest before his eyes inevitably raise to see your nervous frame, curling into your tent. Then his interest fades. Evaporating into thin air before it’s replaced with fear. Genuine, heartbreaking fear that has him moving so quickly he fades out of view before reappearing in front of you.

“What happened?”

Just like Shadowheart, his hands cup your cheeks, gripping the plush as he lowers himself down, moving his forehead to yours.

Unlike before you make no effort to push him away. Instead, all you do is frown and try to suppress the tears, clawing at his shirt with desperate pleas, begging him to stay. Begging him to tell you that everything’s going to be okay. Begging for him to lie and say he’ll protect you just like you did for him.

Using your tadpole you beg him over and over again, letting the tears silently fall from your face, not caring that the whole party is watching.

All you need is him. In falseness or in truth, you don’t care. You just need him to ground you. To call you darling and to make you laugh. To make you feel like you’re something more than a vessel of organs one day destined for harvest.

As your chest begins to heave, letting all the nightmares unfold all over again, you feel the tadpole behind your eye squirm in response, asking you to let him in. Without hesitation, you close your eyes and swallow hard, feeling his thoughts start to overthrow the visions of her and her knives and the mantra that sticks haphazardly across your brain matter.

I’m here, you’re safe.

For once it feels like a promise. A silent vow meant only for you as he ushers you further into the tent, saying something to your peers before closing it up. After that he readjusts the bedroll with gentle hands, always keeping a single palm against the small of your back, even when he guides you to lie against his chest.

It’s the first time in weeks that you’ve felt safe. Resting a cheek just below his collarbone, you can feel your breath begin to return to its normal state. No longer ravaged by the panic of your dreams, it moves in and out, fanning the fabric of his shirt.

“Was it a nightmare?”

You nod. Unsure how to explain it because, while it is a nightmare, it somehow feels so much more.

“Of the past or?”

“Sort of.”

He hums curiously, glancing down to see your hand slide up his chest to grip his shirt.

“It feels like I’m answering a call.”

“A call?”

“Like there’s a person trying to reach me and when I answer I can… I can feel them.”

“Feel them?”

You can tell he doesn’t quite understand. Not that you blame him for it. The whole concept of these nightmares still vexs even yourself. Leave you stumbling in confusion each night you find yourself awake, struggling to remember what’s real and what’s not.

The nightmares are not as easily explainable as the actual torture you’ve endured. Especially considering that up until now there had been periods where the memories had died. Days where her face was nothing more than a splotch of white against a backdrop of black, slowly fading away.

It doesn’t make sense why they're suddenly returning. Why your mind is forcing you to relieve these memories night after night.

“Does your tadpole make it hard for you to dream?”

There's no hesitation when he says yes. No moment thought before his answer, making you wonder if maybe he too is experiencing these dreams.

“I feel like it amplifies everything.”

Looking up to gauge his response, you can see the worry clouding his eyes. How his expression sort of fades into the abyss as his eyes focus on yours.

“I dream of the past a lot. Of my life before this and… and I can feel it. Everything that ever happened I can feel all over again and it’s—“

“Painful.” His voice is broken. A crack in the mirror, shattering the often joyous image of his face as he looks away, blinking.

Without even processing your movements you prop yourself up on your elbow, reaching over to grab his cheek and pull him back in. “I wish you didn’t understand how it felt.”

There’s a flicker of hurt that hits his face, enveloping his features before the previous sadness kicks in again and he’s reaching for your wrist, tightening around it. “Yes, well, not all of us get the luck of the draw when it comes to good lives.”

“You should’ve,” you tell him.

He scoffs and closes his eyes, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “You’re probably the only one that thinks that.”

You let your thumb explore his cheek. Let it move in soft circles, taking in the way it shifts beneath your touch.

It feels strange to be this close to him even after all of the other intimate moments you’ve shared. Something about it feels softer, more honest than the rest of them, making your heart beat rapidly against your chest, threatening to burst.

“I know it’s not my business but if you ever want to talk about it—“

He places a kiss to your hand, letting his lips linger against the pad of your thumb as he closes his eyes, reaching around to grip your waist.

In an instant, the words drift out of your mind once you feel it; lost to a touch you didn’t realize you longed for.

Swallowing hard you lay back down to look away, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the tender image that unfolds as his arm shifts again, accommodating your movement. Making you feel that rush of comfort return as he pulls his mouth away and clears his throat.

“I’m, uh… I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

“Vulnerability?” you joke, earning yourself a snort.

“I suppose that’s a word you can use.”

“To be fair, neither am I.”

You feel him shift to meet your gaze, looking at you with surprise. “Really now? I think breaking down in front of the whole camp just so that you can find me is quite the effort of—“

Before he can finish you clamp your hand around his mouth. “I was in shock, you bastard. I wasn’t thinking about my dignity.”

Flexing around your palm, you feel him smile before he pulls away. “That’s good because there was absolutely nothing dignified about the way you looked at me back there. It was…” He trails off, his words catching in his throat for a moment before he clears it again. “You scared me.”

There’s a moment of silence after that, lasting far longer for it to be deemed comfortable as you lay there, wide awake, wishing you could get him to talk to you. Hoping that maybe if you reach out with the Illithid he’ll answer your questions.

Closing your eyes, you feel his presence in your mind already, vying for your attention in a way that has you both moving in closer, tightening your hold.

Show me the dream.

It isn’t a question or a request but a simple command that has you obeying —letting him enter your thoughts. Letting him stand along the sidelines as she guides you to the ground and cuts you open all over again. Letting him listen to the recital of words that are spoken behind two frozen expressions as Astarion pulls you tighter against him, placing his mouth to your forehead to stop himself from crying.

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#painful vulnerabilities #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #summer writes

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avocado-writing · 4 months

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Okay, I've had this idea bouncing around in my head, waiting for you to reopen suggestions, haha. How do you think the Origins Companions + Halsin, Rolan, Dammon, and Zevlor would react if they found out that Tav had been hiding a very serious injury from them? The kind of injury where Tav is convinced that they're fine and they don't want to worry anyone with something they can handle on their own, especially the people they care most for, but as they try to ignore the injury it only gets worse until it's potentially life threatening and they can't keep up the facade anymore. I will leave it up to you whether or not Tav and the other individual are in a romantic relationship. I think both ways have potential for wonderful angst 😆

ooohhh noooooo! but also oh yes, LOVE this sort of angst lol. written as if you have had an infection come on from an injury. this is gonna be a long list so let's buckle up...

Astarion

really tries to hide his panic but fails miserably.

can't help but start snapping - how could you keep something like this from him?

you try to give your excuses but he waves them away, angry, but mostly because he's terrified that he might have lost you.

if he has any healing potions he helps you take them, if he doesn't he immediately... sources some from somewhere.

holds you as tight as he dares, worried that he will aggravate the injury otherwise.

as you begin to heal and drift off to sleep he spends the whole night watching you rest, making sure that you're still breathing, still safe. doesn't mind when you cuddle up to him in the night, sleepily.

Gale

curses himself for not noticing your condition. he's a wizard, damn it! he's meant to be bloody perceptive.

wishes for the first time ever that he didn't just know wizard spells. wishes he knew how to heal, too.

makes you as comfortable as he can while he finds a book about what he can do for an infected wound, probably swallowing his pride and going to Shadowheart if it's bad enough.

you manage a weak, "Gale, you don't have to--", and he cuts you off, "if you're going to insist that I don't have to look after you, I'm telling you that I do."

fixes you something to help with the pain and infection, makes sure you drink it all despite the horrid taste, then tucks you into his bedroll to let you rest.

when you go to reach out and cuddle him he slips into your arms, presses his lips to your hair, and whispers as you fall asleep about how much you scared him. about how he'd never be able to lose you.

Lae'zel

only realises how unwell you are when you fall over mid-journey.

"tsk'va! why did you hide the extent of your injuries from me?"

hauls you onto her back and carries you back to camp, muttering about your foolishness the whole time.

makes you comfortable in her tent and uses her knowledge of githyanki medicine to help start healing you.

it isn't comfortable as she works on your infection but for the first time you feel her hands being soft rather than vicious.

"you should not have kept this from me." "I know. I'm sorry." "hm. ridiculous thing. zhak vo'n'fynh duj."

goes and intimidates the camp into being quiet so you can rest. it works. this is the nicest she's ever been to you. you could get used to it.

Shadowheart

obviously this is not a huge problem for her, but she is still worried that it got so far without her noticing.

immediately heals you, pouring far too many spell slots into your body in order to get it up and running again.

it helps, immediately breaking the fever you've been nursing, and the touch of Shadowheart's hand to your face is cooling and reassuring.

"lady shar teaches us to embrace our pain... but not like this. you should have known better. you could have died."

her hand slips down to cup your cheek, you cover it with one of your own. she's telling you off but you can tell it's because she cares.

"I'm sorry that I scared you." "I know. don't do it again."

she smiles and the ache in your heart is lifted, too.

Wyll

panics.

you collapse on day in camp and he immediately calls on the others for help, not so proud as to be unable to admit when something is out of his knowledge. he is not a healer. he needs help.

he manages to catch you in his arms as you tumble, hugging you close to his chest while magic is worked or a healer checks you over.

lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding when you begin to stabilise.

helps you back to your tent to rest, gently chiding you but letting you know that he's glad you're alright.

when your hand weakly comes up to touch him, he indulges you in a kiss to let you know how relieved he is.

constantly watching you on the battlefield from that moment on. if he can help it, you'll never be hurt again.

Karlach

another panicker.

scoops you up in her arms and holds you to her chest, running to the tent of the nearest healer in camp - or, if you're in the city, kicking down the door of a local doctor.

begging the healer to check you over, but is reluctant to let you go. if she stops holding you it's like she's relinquishing control and that scares the life out of her.

you're healed and she feels you start to stir in her arms, peppering you with kisses of relief, choking through her tears that you're never to scare her like that again.

carries you back home, even if you're totally capable of walking. she just wants to make sure you're okay.

Halsin

sternly disappointed that you didn't tell him, but more annoyed that he didn't notice something was wrong himself. how could he not see how out of balance with nature you were?

squirrels you away to his tent to heal you, make you soothing and medicinal teas, his big hands over the source of the infection.

you burrow into his touch, into his chest, and you end up sitting in his lap as he heals you.

he wants to tell you off a little, but is more relieved that you're alright. encourages you to share all your burdens with him.

kisses you on the forehead, then on the mouth when he's sure you're strong enough for it not to knock you flat.

Dammon

my poor boy is just a blacksmith, so though he doesn't exactly panic, he does scoop you up and try to find a healer as soon as he can.

waits quietly and nervously as you are examined, silently cursing himself for being too busy to see how you were hurt. he's meant to be better than this. he's meant to love you, how didn't he notice?

when you come to he can't stop apologising, and it takes several of your kisses to soothe him and tell him it was not his fault but yours.

he makes you promise that you'll always tell him when you're hurt. has you look into his eyes and swear it.

he can't do much on the battlefield but he can protect you where he can.

Rolan

another one cursing that he doesn't know healing spells.

"you aren't meant to die, gods damn it! you're meant to be strong... what good am I if I can't keep you safe..."

rushes you to the best doctor in Baldur's Gate. pays for all the treatment that you could need. holds your hand at your bedside for your entire recovery... until you come back to consciousness, of course, at which point he just starts telling you off for being stupid enough to get into his mess in the first place.

you grab him by the collar and drag him down for a kiss. that finally shuts him up. but he never lets you forget how foolish you were.

Zevlor

practical but still worried about you.

you collapse in the field and he finds a safe place to hide the both of you from dangerous eyes, using his Lay on Hands ability to channel his magic into healing.

you try to apologise but a finger to your lips silences you, and all you can do is watch in quiet wonder as he burns the infection out with his Paladin's light.

when you're better he gently chides you. tells you that you have people relying on your leadership, and that a problem shared means there are more heads working on how to fix it.

when he sees how sorry you are lets you cuddle into him. when you say you'll repay him, he insists your happiness and well-being is enough for an old warrior like him.

does take the kiss you offer, though. he's been wanting to do that for a while...

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galedekarios · 2 months

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this is a personal vent post so please let me just get it all out without trying to come at me lol:

so many ppl saying they respect larian's decision to peace out and not deal with hasbro/wotc, but i have to be honest, i don't respect them at all.

they are leaving a game behind that is unfinished and a narrative mess.

they leave a game behind where everyone paid the same amount of money for it, yet depending on which character you prefer, you get less content.

the disparity between everyone else and their writer's pet ast*rion is insane. he has a half to a third more content depending on which character you compare him to.

they leave behind a sparse act 2, which is already so barren compared to act 1 and all it had to offer. act 3 is a narrative mess and lacks structure.

they leave a game behind where they made promises a handful of weeks before release where they ought to have known that they, in fact, will not be delivering said promises: access to the upper city, consequences for playing certain races across the acts (playing a drow is going to be different in act 1 and gives you advantages vs act 3 where it would give you understandable disadvantages), etc etc etc.

they leave behind a game where content was cut from the companions to make it seem like the origins have something to offer when that system is barely able to compare what origin playthroughs offered in dos2 and it hurts the game and the experience (like tara being cut for companion gale).

they leave behind a game where they promised to much variety and proclaimed in panels from hell how they struggled to show the width and depth of the game, but really? it's about as deep as a puddle. a lot of the choices do not matter. kill ethel? nah, she's alive and well in the city. no sister hags to be angry here. give karlach no infernal iron and never talk to her at all? doesn't matter, she'll survive until the end of act 3 and will still call you her bff. dissuade gale to use the orb? we'll make sure he'll still offer 3 more times just in case. send yenna away from camp bc you don't want her there? doesn't matter, she'll stay. and yes, i'm aware these are all small things, but they are part of a larger problem. almost nothing you do truly matters to the point of where i just skip most things in act 1 and 2 now.

they leave behind a game that they promise to still patch, but some things have been broken since early access / release to the point of where i'm like i'm sorry, but your word that you will continue to patch things means about as much to me as all the other empty promises. the dialogue about morena dekarios is still broken and it's been over half a year now. the astral sea scene has low-res body textures for months. i know from mutuals who love minthara that her romance is still broken. and i could go on and on.

and what gets me the most about this is all is that they have learned nothing at all from dos2: act 3 of that game was so bugged and all over the place that i couldn't muster up the motivation to finish it the first time i played. they neglected a character to the point of where he could have been removed from the game or made a general hireling (beast).

those issues were at least attempted to be fixed in the definitive edition.

with swen saying that there will be no new content anymore and stating that both bg3 and its characters are now property of wotc/hasbro, it seems unlikely we'll even get an attempt of a fix.

so what this boils down to to me is just another game company not delivering on their promises after overselling their product and more or less abandoning it after a year to move onto the next big thing.

i don't think i can respect that ngl.

#vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #text: personal #larian critical #bg3 critical

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cambion-companion · 8 months

Text

BG3 Companions on a Halloween Date

YES I was itching to do something for the BG3 gang for the season. You could say it's been bugging me. Hah. Ok sorry it's the influence of my pfp.

Let's start with

You want a cozy night in under the covers, watching scary movies (or puppet shows or whatever the heck is the equivalent in Faerun) but he's not sold on the idea. "I've seen enough horror to last me several lifetimes, darling."

Instead Astarion would take you out in the crisp Autumn air, under the distant sun, for a walk crunching through the dried leaves of brown and red.

He'd want to go to the pumpkin patch to find the perfect gourd for a Jack-o-Lantern.

When the sun set so very early in the afternoon, you'd retire back to your cozy abode and set to carving faces into your pumpkins.

Astarion of course would make short work of his, dexterous as ever with those knives, and he would do his best to shape the face into what he hopes he looks like.

Either that or, depending on where you're at in his character arc, he'd remake Cazador BEFORE gutting it and making a whole show of utterly eviscerating the poor Halloween decoration. "Astarion, this is supposed to be relaxing." "This IS my ideal downtime."

You want someone who will snuggle under the covers and watch Hocus Pocus with you? Wyll is your man. But sorry I'm trying to keep to a less modern AU.

Wyll seems like the kind of guy who would put on some fitting music as you two cooked together, dancing in the kitchen intermittently and almost forgetting to check on the cookies before they burned.

He's such a sweetheart, checking to make sure you're happy with just spending an evening indoors with him. "We can go out on the town if you desire, sweetheart." "No, Wyll, I've told you this is absolutely perfect."

Depending on the choices you've made with him thus far, Mizora might pop in to dip her finger in the batter and bamf out again, giving ya'll a cheeky wink. "Ta ta, love imps. You make me physically ill."

Sigh, you're back for more bones hm?

Alright I'll entertain you.

You ask Withers to dance to Spooky Scary Skeletons. He looks at you, unimpressed. "Get thee hence." "Wilt thou harass someone else?"

Ideally I would propose and she'd say "yes". Oh what? Sorry, I was miles away.

For a Halloween date. Hm. A corn maze. Definitely.

She'd be all about her tutelage under Shar's freaks followers and want to show off her sneaking skills.

It would turn into a game of hide-and-go-seek and then it'd get a little creepy before she'd inevitably pounce on you and you'd end of in a fit of laughter together.

"I wasn't going to hurt you!" "Well, Shaddy, sometimes I wonder." "Good to keep you on your toes, then." "Careful, I saw a pond on the way in."

Then you two would go and get some candied apples and chat about memories and flowers that bloom in the gloaming.

Oh Gale.

He'd love to read to you out of a classic gothic novel (cough cough Dracula cough cough) while you two cozy up under some blankets.

He'd probably get fresh with you and run a hand up your leg or something, OH SORRY this is post the patch that fixed that? OK. He'd wait an extra hour.

Tara would curl up next to you and listen as he read from the book, the firelight crackling and warming your bodies as the night grows dark outside.

Afterward he would ask if you'd like to be guided into the Astral plane where you can look down on the All Hallow's Eve festivities below.

yeah, gotta give Tiefling daddy some love. Especially since I still feel bad for massacring them all my last playthru.

Zevlor is another who has seen his fair share of horror, and he would opt to do something more lighthearted with you for a Halloween date.

He seems like a family kind of man, so I expect he would invite the whole gang over for a delicious dinner. Mol and her friends, Arabella and her parents. Rolan and Zorru and maybe even Auntie Ethel will sneak in there. Then it really WOULD be a Halloween experience.

After the dinner and the guests are snoozing or already left he'd wrap an arm around you and pull you close. "Would you accompany me outside? I would like to show you the stars and tell their tales. It's been so long since I've gotten to properly admire them. Or you."

Of course I have to include the daddy devil, who do you think I am?

Raphael would take you to a haunted house, of course. OF COURSE.

Hell, what better house that is haunted than the House of Hope?

It would be horrifying for you, since the no touching rules don't apply there, and most amusing for him.

You'd practically climb the cambion in your efforts to avoid the ghosties, especially that one who constantly says "huuuurt meeee, pleeeaaase."

Raphael would enjoy watching you squirm, and remind you such a fate would not be yours only IF you followed his rules.

Oh yeah, and maybe if you're lucky, or perhaps very unlucky, he'll invite you to his Boudoir.

Oak Father frowns on dissecting pumpkins for the sake of creating superfluous lanterns (or something...I heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend, ok)

Instead, Halsin would druid craft you vines and harvest fruits in whatever shapes, sizes, and colors you desired.

He'd also want to go trick or treating so BADLY. "But Halsin, you're eight feet tall and built like a linebacker. No one is going to mistake you for a kid." Then he'd cast Disguise Self and you'd be forced to take him out on the town in hunt of candy.

Poor guy didn't have much of a childhood and wants to experience the finer things in life. Get those king sized candy bars...just once.

You are a bit huffy, having expected a more...romantic evening than this. But he'll make it up to you later winkwonk , till you can bearly stand it.

You guys would get all CUTE and gussied up together.

Go out on the town.

Pick the best looking victim to be a sacrifice to Lolth.

Wait...what?

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vioartemis · 1 year

Text

Falling for her

(Amber Freeman x fem! reader x Tara Carpenter)

Summary: Amber reveals herself as one of the killers, and you, her girlfriend, are as shocked as everyone else. A year after all this shit, you and Tara become closer, eventually leading to something more than friendship... Part 1 || Part 2 Warnings: blood, injuries, death of characters, slight angst a/n: might do a part 2 👀 (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

Since the beginning you defended her, telling everyone she was incapable of killing someone. Telling them she wasn't like that. Telling them they were wrong.

Turns out you were the one who was wrong this all time.

And even now that she shot Liv in the head you couldn't believe it. You simply couldn't.

You were frozen in place, incapable of running away with the others. You only moved because Amber dragged you to her room, along with Tara, whom she taped and put in her closet before kneeling in front of you.

"You okay baby..? I know I lied, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to hurt you I promise"

She whipped your tears away with her thumbs and placed a peck on your lips.

"You're coming with me after this right? We'll run away from Woodsboro and start a new life together, just the two of us. No more Ghostface, no more blood, no more Tara."

As far as you could remember, she had always been jealous of Tara. Not that you felt anything for her, you loved Amber and her only, but your girlfriend didn't seem to understand that.

You fought a lot because of that, which led you to spend more and more time away from her. More and more time with Tara. You knew it wouldn't fix anything, but you couldn't handle your girlfriend's jealousy 24/7. You needed space.

“P-please d-don’t hurt her… I’ll come with you… j-just… leave her alone… please…”

“Oh baby… you’re so kind even in that situation… but I can’t let her live, she’d snitch on me and the police would be after us…”

She smiled at you. Not the smile that made you fall for her. A crazy, psychotic smile.

“Now come with me baby, you wouldn’t want to miss the spectacle, right?”

She gently took your hand and guided you downstairs before dragging you to the kitchen, when she told you to wait for her.

You wanted to run away the second she left, but your legs didn’t seem to agree. All you could do was cry on the floor, re thinking everything, every time Amber told you she had something to do, probably killing someone.

Killing someone with the same hands she touched you with.

Knees against your chest, you couldn’t stop crying. Your eyes were all puffy and red. Your chest hurt. Your heart hurt.

When Amber got back, gripping Sidney’s hair, followed by Richie and Sam, you were still there. Not even looking up.

“Y/n..? You… you knew..?”

That made you tilt your head up slightly.

“S-Sam I swear I didn’t know… I would never hurt anyone… let alone Tara…”

She looked at you with suspicious eyes, along with Sidney.

“N-no.. I.. please you have to believe me..”

“Yeah, believe her.” Richie said, grabbing your arm to make you stand up. “Maybe that’ll help you trust her”

He sunk his knife into your abdomen, five times, his other hand on your mouth to prevent you from screaming. He threw you back onto the floor, as Amber entered the room.

“Okay Gale’s here, now we can-” she stopped as she saw you bleeding on the floor “Y/n!”

She rushed to you, a worried look on her face. She took off her costume and tried to bandage you up with it, to stop the bleeding.

“What the fuck did you do to her?!”

She turned to Richie, glaring daggers at him.

“Touch her again and I will fucking kill you."

She kneeled in front of you, gently cupping your cheeks.

"I'm sorry baby... he wasn't supposed to hurt you... y-you're gonna be fine don't worry... we'll end this quickly..."

She kissed your lips softly, before standing up.

You didn't see nor hear anything after that, barely conscious due to the amount of blood you were losing. When you opened your eyes, you were alone in the kitchen.

You could hear fight noises coming from the hallway. You stood up painfully. Once at the door, you felt your heart drop for the second - or was it third? - time this day.

Amber and Tara were fighting. She was going to kill her. You had to do something.

You managed to get in front of Tara just as Amber was about to stab her.

"Baby what are you doing...? You should rest you're not-"

"Amber... please stop... you can't kill her... she's our friend... they all were..."

You could see she was hurt. She thought you would be on her side, even after her reveal. But you weren't. You'd rather protect Tara than stay with her.

"Okay then..." she said

You thought you convinced her. But you were wrong. There was even more craziness in her black eyes.

"If I can't have you no one will."

She raised her knife, but before she could do anything, she got shot in the head. You watched in horror as she fell, remember all the moments you spent together.

You fell on your knees, heartbroken at the sight of your girlfriend's lifeless body. Even if she tried to kill you at the end, you knew she loved you.

Tara placed herself in front of you so you didn't have to see Amber any longer, thinking it wasn't good for you. You looked up at her, tears in your eyes, before pulling her into a hug she gave back.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

After "the incident", you spent a month at the hospital, in a room you shared with Tara. You were more than happy to have her by your side, and she felt the same about you.

Sidney came to visit you once, before going back home with her husband and children. She apologized for killing Amber, to what you replied she saved both your life and Tara's so there was no need for excuses.

Six months after that night, you moved out of Woodsboro with Sam, Tara, Mindy and Chad. You all agreed on the fact that to heal and move on, you needed to get the fuck out of this city.

New York was your new home, and you wouldn't deny you were doing much better since you moved in with Tara and Sam.

Eight months after your arrival at New York, you found yourself thinking about Tara a lot more than just a friend would.

Was it bad that you were falling for her, only a year after Amber died..? Did it make you a bad person? What would Tara think about that? Was there even a chance she'd like you back?

"Y/n? I've been calling you for like ten minutes, are you okay?" Sam said as she entered your room

"Sorry, I was... thinking"

"You want to talk about it..?"

"If you don't mind listening.."

She sat beside you on the bed, taking your hand in hers.

"Hey, remember what we said when we left Woodsboro? I'm here for you, I'll always be"

"Thanks..."

You gave her a grateful smile.

"Now tell me everything"

"It’s Tara… I-I think I'm falling for her..."

The older girl looked at you with a slight smile.

"You have every right to fall for someone you know? That means you're over her, you're healing"

"Yeah..?"

"Plus I'm pretty sure she likes you back, given the way she looks at you and talk about you"

She squeezed your hand slightly.

"C'mon now, dinner time"

A few days had passed since you talked to Sam. It was night, and you were on the balcony, watching the sky and the city, when you felt a blanket falling on your shoulders.

“I thought you might get cold..”

Tara’s sweet voice made you smile as you turned to face her.

“But you don’t even wear a jacket! Tara..”

You pulled her closer to you, wrapping the blanket around her too, before realizing how close you were now.

You only ever saw her freckles from afar, but now you could see them perfectly. She had more than you thought.

She was so pretty, face illuminated with the faint light of the city, head slightly tilted up to look at you.

“Y/n…”

Her eyes shifted almost imperceptibly to your lips before going back to your eyes.

Neither of you said a word, yet you understood each other. You placed your hands on her waist, while she placed hers behind your neck, pulling you close, her eyes never leaving yours.

She stopped, only a few inches away from your lips, making sure you really wanted it to happen. You were the one closing the gap between you.

One of her hands went in your hair, soft lips moving against yours tenderly in a passionate kiss.

You could kiss her for hours, and she could say the same. You stayed here for a while, only pulling away when the lack of air forced you to.

No words were needed, and none was said during the next hour you spend on the balcony. You watched the stars, her head resting on your shoulder while she intertwined your fingers.

When it started raining, you both returned to your rooms after one last kiss.

You sat on your bed, smiling like an idiot, while Tara did the same on the floor.

She took a bag from under her bed, opening it silently, and taking something out of it.

“Now that I have you..” she brushed the white mask with her thumb “no one else ever will”

[Next part]

#amber freeman #tara carpenter #scream #scream 5 #amber freeman x reader #tara carpenter x reader #amber freeman x fem reader #tara carpenter x fem reader #ghostface!tara

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meanbossart · 3 months

Text

Spicy Asks: The Sequel is here. I'm so, so sorry.

Oh he's a very passive guy, he likes being manhandled around and not having to do much of the work (a bit of a pillow princess one might say). As far as fetishes go, he does have fantasies about group sex and of being roughed up, but I think if put in a situation where he could practice it in a controlled environment he'd be like "EHHHH nevermind actually" and go home very quickly LOL

DU drow would have 100% banged Lae'zel if he hadn't killed her. He couldn't stand her personality but they would have gotten on like two peas in a pod in the sack.

He does find Shadowheart very pretty, but they struck up a friendship so quickly that I don't think he could see her in that way 🤷 but that's still a smash, technically speaking.

Jaheira. Ohhhh Jaheira. As far as general dynamics go she would have been the best choice after Astarion, probably - though there is no way in hell or high heavens that she would have ever let him touch her LOL regardless, DU drow finds her looks and personality to be very attractive.

He's pretty much utterly indifferent to anyone else. Wyll is too idealistic, Gale is Gale, Karlach isn't his type, Halsin gets on his nerves - oh, he WOULD have banged Mizora if he hadn't been heads over heels for Astarion by that point.

The man just likes his femmes I guess LOL

HMMMMMMM yes, but since it's not really a porn fic expect any scenes like that to be in line with what we've had so far, where there's more of a focus on developing character dynamics rather than gratuitousness (I hope I've gotten that across, at least LOL).

LOL, It's ok, it's a ridiculous not-name and I'm so sorry for all the people I have made confused and will continue to confuse because of it.

As for your question, definitely not! I personally like big-bottom/smaller-top scenarios so that's why I focus on it, and I do think character-wise those are the roles they fall into most naturally - but they switch around every so often when the mood strikes and it isn't really a big deal.

Oh are you kidding me? The guy LOVES being cared after in an intimate setting. Being doted on, groomed, checked up on, having his hair played with and clothes fixed up - he doesn't express it outwardly much, but these are all things that make his murderous little heart skip a beat. He was the same way pre-tadpole but it was mostly servants and Sceleritas doing it, so he didn't get much out of the exchange; and Orin didn't entertain this at all, or, if she ever did, it was very, very, very rarely and really just a crumb of intimate affection that he most likely misread anyways.

I'm not sure what to say to this one LOL the penis is full of blood already man I don't think a vampire needs to make it any more tempting to themselves to chomp down.

I wrote a thing about that not too long ago :D ! The answer is complicated but, mostly yes.

Alright you joke, but, if you don't think DU drow hasn't spent a little too long lingering over Astarion's feet and ankles then I got amazing news for you.

I touched on what they generally like on the previous edition of Wine Fuelled Spicy Asks, but as for what they like to do as a couple, it's probably a lot of body worship and some playful denial on both ends. Du drow thinks Astarion is the most elegant and limber thing he's ever seen (and he loves how he smells), and Astarion thinks DU drow's body is an expertly put together murder machine. They have a great time being mutually enamored with each other's (and their own) appearances.

I think they also venture into some blood-play and vapid threats of violence in the future, as a treat, but takes a while for them to trust themselves and each other enough to indulge in that kind of thing.

Needs a little direction, plus you gotta learn to enjoy a bit of teeth and a very slobbery time - also I think he distracts easily, It's nice to have a man who's willing to venture the whole perimeter with his mouth but sometimes you do just want him to stay on the prick. But generally speaking - yes, DU drow gives good head. Fun head, even!

What do you people want from me? Do you want schematics? Diagrams? Do you want me to compare their holes to famous people holes? Do you want me to take out my measuring tape and give you numbers, tell you which kind of produce each of them can fit in there???

One is pink, the other one is brown. One of them just looks normal and the other looks and feels a little like it been around the block a few times. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW.

#ask compilation

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vagabond-umlaut · 2 months

Text

synchronise 2.0

On one end of the line, you've sunny days, mild breezes and not one thing to worry over. On the other end, there are only moonless nights, foul gales and one too many decisions– made and unmade– to repent for. And in the middle of this line segment, is you—

The only means by which the scales can be re-balanced. The equilibrium lost can be re-discovered. The wheels of life thrown off-kilter can be re-synchronised.

[Long story short: Time can be a funny little bitch— Good thing, you know how to be funnier than time itself!]

gojo satoru x fem!reader; canon divergence; time travel fix-it; the story begins here... freaking finallyyy 🤗🤗; tw: food mentions and mild *friendly* violence

prev chapter // synchronise masterlist // THE masterlist

chapter two: 23/3/2005

Working in a coffee shop sucks.

Sure, there are many nice things about the job: free coffee, yummy brownies, upbeat music, lenient managers and a pretty good pay— Still, you deem it to be the worst of the worst— Many, many thanks to the white-haired, shades-wearing abomination across the counter.

You decide not to hold back your grimace when he grins.

"You're looking very cute today, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know. I've got a mirror in my room," You retort, trying to wring and squeeze every bit of your exhaustion– exasperation– into the sigh ensuing, "Now, can you tell me your order quickly? People are getting late because of you."

"Oh, let them be," The boy waves your concerns away with an uncaring chuckle, "Surely, none of them is as important, or as generous, a customer as me— are they, candy?"

No, they aren't.

Neither the university student, nor the mother of those triplets, nor the salaryman, nor the elderly couple at the end of the queue: None of them buy as much as this boy does, yet– given your math is correct [it always is]– their collective purchases amount to more than the cost of whatever new solution of sucrose and caffeine he comes up with each new day...

Your teeth clack against each other as you peer up, eyes narrowing into slits, "Look, this is the last time I'm asking you. Tell me your bloody orders and step away, or–"

A cold palm over yours startles you into a sudden still.

And your hand moves before your brain can even grasp what the hell just happened– or directs, what will happen.

---

"You're not going to say sorry."

You should apologise to Gojo. You know you must do that.

Both of you have shared far too many casual touches for you to react this way– for you to twist his wrist then punch his face– at the mere feel of his palm on yours— Still, you choose to keep your mouth shut, willing your mind to focus only on the trash you've been tasked to take out.

A task seeming impossible now, thanks to the blinding reservoir of cursed energy trailing behind you from the time you were asked to leave the billing counter... Insistent, persistent, terribly obstinate— You huff a quiet groan when two familiar footsteps sound across the kitchen, following even into the dark alleyway behind the shop.

He calls your name. It sounds somewhat desperate– or maybe that's just your wishful thinking. Maybe you should stop watching those stupid, unrealistic romance movies— "So, you've decided you won't apologise, huh?"

"No," You reply, terse and firm, stopping but without throwing a glance backwards, "Why must I say sorry for your piss-poor blocking abilities, hm? Go improve your skills instead of bugging me at my part-time job... Just go, Sato– H-hey! W-what—"

The boy's reaction shouldn't shock you.

No, really. It shouldn't. You ought to be more used to the phenomenon named 'Gojo Satoru' by now, after twelve long years of close friendship with him... So sad, all that time together does nothing to stop your squeak of surprise when he wraps an arm round your midsection then snatches the bag of rubbish, effortlessly throwing it into the bin more than a few feet away.

Your muscles instantly grow tense, readying to fight to be free— only to relax when you hear your name. Spoken so softly... so carefully... Almost as if you aren't some furious animal baring its canines; almost as if you're some fragile glass figurine.

You don't like it, but can't really bring yourself to hate it either. Not when Gojo's voice sounds so worried when he asks, "Skipped your breakfast, mochi?"

"No." You return a sharp shake of your head.

Making you sit on an empty cardboard box by the wall, he crouches down before you. And asks, "Got yelled at by someone in your family, then?"

"No." You shake your head again, albeit with lesser edge this time. Confusion pushes your brows into a deep furrow, your mouth into a sour frown. "Why are you asking me these, Satoru? What the hell is wrong with you?"

The addressed's features break from their state of extreme focus, to become one of extreme hurt, before reverting to their state of extreme focus. Gojo removes his glasses, the shine of his blue eyes increasing manifold as they travel over your form, finally settling on your face.

Absolutely hating the tingles now dancing in your chest, you watch the boy exhale a sigh.

A very long, very tired sigh.

"There's nothing wrong with me, candy... There's something really wrong with you— You've been snappish and rude since today morning. And don't ev–" He falls silent, features scrunching up for a beat before lighting up in a moment of pure happy realisation. Too happy realisation, you think, watching the mile-wide grin on his face.

"You're sad because I'll be moving away next month and you've been pushing me away because you're sad— Isn't that right, candy? Isn't that right? Right? Right???"

Probably. Possibly. Almost certainly–

You lean back into the wall, schooling your face into one pretty unbothered.

After all... It won't do now if you confess to him all your fears and concerns. It won't do ever if you confess to him all your fears and concerns...

"You're not leaving for Jujutsu High in a month, idiot," You say, sternly ignoring the dull ache the thought makes in your heart, "You're leaving in less than a week. Auntie called today morni— 'Toru, no!"

Yanking the phone from his hand, you flip it shut and stuff it into your pocket. Then glare when you find Gojo reaching towards it. Bright beam now nowhere to be seen, the boy glares back and huffing, gets up to plop down onto the box beside yours.

You stare at the marks on your fingers for a while, before looping an arm round his shoulders— Shoulders, you never realised until this moment, had grown so broad... Whatever—

"Please don't make a fuss over this, 'Toru," You murmur, squeezing his arm lightly, "First off, the higher-ups will scold you terribly: They are hell-bent on making you go away from your home to under their shadows as soon as possible— And second–"

You lift his chin to make him look you in the eye. Azure pools of power, prestige and now upset, blinking back at you, bare and free of any and all covering.

"They'll give me hell because I told you this: I am not supposed to tell you this— something to do with shocking you then kidnapping you away while you're numb from the shock, I guess..." You trail off for a bit, before chuckling, "Those old geezers are so dumb, right?"

Gojo returns a weak nod and an even weaker "Heh!"— And you think, this is it.

This. Is. It.

Your last conversation with your best friend in the foreseeable future... Or probably ever.

That happened in the dirty narrow alleyway behind a mill-of-the-run coffee shop.

Where neither of you laughed. Or joked. Or did anything, anything remotely happy...

You don't really think– not even once– before you wrap your arms round Gojo's waist and push your face into his arm. It takes less than a beat for the boy to shift his body, and you, so that you're no longer trapping him in a weird sideways hug, rather hugging him properly. His fingers comb through your hair: so firm, so sure. Much like the suggestion reaching you next.

"Why don't we both run away to Paris, candy? We can escape from all this mess then."

"Wha–" You exclaim, incredulity seeping into your huffed chortle as you pull away. [It doesn't sound bad, a tiny voice in your brain whispers. Not bad at all– You strangle that stupid voice...] Hope shines in Gojo's eyes as he peers down at you. You force your lips down into a flat line.

"You're not Romeo, 'Toru; and sure, I'm pretty but I don't wanna end up dead like Juliet." You say, patting his cheeks, letting your tone grow a tad soft on receiving a pout. "You really need to stop watching romance movies, y'know... That teeny-tiny brain inside your huge skull is rotting– I can get the stench even– Ow, you ass!"

Gojo's lips quirk up slightly when you shove him back– but it's gone before it can form fully.

He shifts even closer to you, nearly engulfing your figure in the chill of his bigger frame. "Not every love story has to end that way, candy."

"Ours is not even a love story to begin with, Satoru," You scoff, noticing yet opting to ignore the sudden tensing of his posture, "And considering we do run away to Paris, like you suggested— What then, hm? Where will we stay? What will we eat? From where the hell are we going to get the money we need? Most importantly, how long will we keep running, Satoru?"

Screwing your eyes shut, you inhale then exhale, just the way your mom taught you to do when your emotions seem to be getting a bit out of hand— Opening your eyes, you find Gojo staring at you... rather weirdly.

You let your eyes fall to the fading colors of your shoes.

Resuming as you do, "What I'm trying to say is: we're teenagers, 'Toru. Whatever plan we make is bound to be stupid– more like, doomed to be stupid. Let's just go with the flow now. When we are older, we will be much smarter, stronger, scarier: We can do whatever we want then, and no one will dare to stop us. We can even run away to Paris, if that's what you want— Yeah?"

Looking back up, you find the boy's features not too far from that weird state... Until they are, and you feel as if you're staring straight at the sun. Or maybe that's just his cursed energy flaring up... Ugh, why is he such a powerhouse–

Grinning widely, Gojo clasps your hands in his. "Wanna do a Binding Vow, sweetness?"

No. Hell no. Never ever—

You know you must refuse. You must shut him up before his foolish tendencies take him way too far— take you with him way too far. Still, you do very little to quieten that pleased hum in your mind, when you register just how much he wishes to stay associated with you...

"A pinky promise sounds cuter, right?" You suggest with a smile– One that grows wider when you receive an eager nod in answer. You, however, curl your hand into a fist when he moves to lock his little finger with yours.

Grinning when he dissolves into whining, "Heyyy... what's the problem now, candy?"

"There isn't any problem, 'Toru. Just few conditions," You correct with a cheeky lilt to your tone, "Like, we ought to text each other minimum once a day, call each other minimum once a week, meet each other minimum once a month– And, last but not the least," You drop your volume to a value so low that only the two of you can hear.

"We must not forget each other, no matter what."

Gojo's frown melts away into something graver— before his beam's back in every bit of its glory.

You watch as he slowly pries your fist open, intertwining his little finger with yours and saying, "I agree. Pinky promise to do whatever you said, sweetness."

"I too pinky promise to do everything you said, 'Toru," You don't waste a beat in echoing his dedication in your words. The boy's grin grows bigger, reminding you yet again of the midday sun– Not the scorching one in summer, though! His resembles the gentle one of winters...

A sudden beep! from your phone jolts you out of your thoughts– And you jolt Gojo out of his seat next to you, scowling playfully as you do.

"Now off you go, my sucrose-loving fiend-for-a-friend," You rise as well, pushing him towards the back door to the kitchen, "Go, give your orders and get us a nice table; preferably, one closest to the AC. I'll finish my chores here and join you in a bit."

"Promise?" The boy asks with a pensive pout, just outside the building. You reach up to flick him– kind of– on the forehead, laughing fondly. "Yeah, you idiot. Now, go! I'm getting late!"

"Geez... okay, okay," Gojo exclaims back, laughing. And with that, plus a last-moment ruffling of your hair by him, he walks back into the shop. Leaving you to the quiet of your mind, the latter now much lighter, after your much-needed [yet much-avoided] conversation with him—

Too bad, you were never meant to relish the sound of silence.

No sooner do you step one foot towards the garbage bins than you feel the world before you tilt by a few degrees, for longer than a few measly seconds— Until everything is right again.

Or maybe nothing is... Nothing will ever quite be...

Not when you find yourself on a fine Wednesday morning, face-to-face with your carbon-copy— Except she isn't really so: She seems much older, much thinner, much sadder than the girl you saw in your mirror today...

It isn't really your fault, you think, when you end up blurting out, "Oh my God... So, I'm not my parents' only daugher, am I?"

next chapter

loserboy x girlboss → got to be my fave dynamic of all time [bonus points if both r somewht weird & stupid 😂😂]

header from pinterest; dividers by @benkeibear; jjk isn't mine

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #gojo angst #jjk angst #kit posts 📝

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oops-all-concrete · 4 months

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What would you think of how would each BG3 companions to Tav being secretly a god that has been tagging along with them all this time? Just curious

(SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO GET TO THIS, MY BRAIN HELD MY MOTIVATION RANSOM MIDWAY THROUGH ME WRITING THIS)

Ooohhhhh this sounds funnyyyy

Context: I'm imagining Tav is a god and has God status, a place in the pantheon and everything, but-! So continuity makes sense and the whole journey is still necessary, I'd assume them a curious God of some miscellaneous small thing so their powers wouldnt be THAT useful anyhow (God of clouds, God of fur, God of bread) but yeah!

BG3 companions react to Tav secretly being a...God???

(MILD SPOILERS FOR ACT 1/2)

Lae'zel -

She's suspicious at first, disbelieving of course. But as she watches Tav just summon (whatever they're the god of) from thin air, she frowns. "Chk. You may be of godly status, but if you're unwise enough to get kidnapped by a ghaik nautaloid, you are no mighty God." She finishes, nose upturned and almost- dissapointed??

Shadowheart -

Once shes been convinced, she frowns. "I don't think I've ever known of such a God...granted, Lady Shar only allowed for us to study her." She admits. She's quite hesitant, but she does ask. "Have you ever...met lady Shar/Seluné? Can you tell her I say hi? Is that appropriate?"

Wyll -

He's also hesitant to believe, but he's so curious once he believes you. "Wait, so, what's it like being a God? Does being a mortal feel weird? Are you immune to anything? What happens if you die? Does someone become the new God of what you're the God of? Are you even allowed to be here? What does the immortal plane smell like?" Just, a million and one questions and he wants ALL the stories.

Karlach -

"Woah! That's so cool, I wish I was a God...I'd be the God of potatoes. Is that already a thing?" Regardless if its true, she let's Tav have their fun. She also refers to every time she's saved by Tav as 'Divine Intervention' which isn't...wrong?

Gale -

"Ah, I got that impression, albeit with doubt." He says, sounding only a little smug. "Your disguise is well crafted, I'll give you that. Definitely something I aspire to learn from" he smiles fondly. Then there's a pause. "...I understand its not quite your field but you wouldn't be someone who could fix the whole...orb in me chest could you? Or would that also put you under Mystras ire?"

Astarion -

He seems immediately intrigued. "Really? I thought you were a little calm for all of this, but I never would have guessed- no offense. I'm sure you're very...powerful in your own way!" He says, somewhat forcing a smile. "So- does prayer work, or does the world have to be ending for everyone in order for you to pick up a summon?" He asks, curious, but seeming somewhat irritated too. He doesn't elaborate on why.

Halsin -

He seems doubtful at first but believes you quicker than you expected. "I hadn't imagined thr gods would send one of their own to come and save me from goblins or...help lift a shadow curse left by Shar of all people." He says, a faint smile on his face. "While I am in your debt, you should my life is already pledged to Silvannus. I hope what I'm already doing is enough"

Jaheira -

She looks Tav up and down, crosses her arms, and then- chuckles? "Sorry, I just- I feel like I finally have evidence I've been here too long. I haven't passed away to some dumb idea yet, so the Gods sent one of their own to get me." She laughs it off but then looks at Tab quite seriously. "...you're not here to get me are you?"

Minsc -

"I know!" He replies happily, not missing a beat. "Boo alerted me of your origins immediately. He's delighted to be joined by another of the pantheon, even if a lesser God" He smiles, mindlessly as ever.

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thedeviltohisangel · 20 days

Note

I MUST SEE CASS X BUCKY FOR NUMBER 23 !!!??!1?11!!!! THEN MY LIFE WILL BE COMPLETE /lh

INJURY PROMPT BLURB ERA

11. “I’m going to lift you up, okay? Tell me if it hurts.”

23. “You dumbass. Don’t do that. Ever again.”

more forced march for the girlies this wednesday night xoxo

John doesn't think he even closed his eyes, let alone slept. His focus was trained on his wife's chest. Making sure it continued to rise and fall. Making sure her hand was gripped tightly between his. Making sure breaths continued to puff out of her lips as she slept against his chest.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to fix this. Gale had made it over the wall, made it to freedom. Cass was supposed to be right behind him. Cass was supposed to have made it out. If anyone didn't, it was supposed to be John. The two people he loved most in this world were supposed to be safe and secure and on their way back to England. Instead, he was holding the barely conscious body of his wife, an angry welt on her hip from where he had burned her skin closed, and her blood stained on his hands.

When the guards came storming over and yelled that is was time to get up and get moving again, she showed no signs of waking.

"Cass, baby, we've got to get up. We've got to get you up." He palmed at her cheek gently and her eyes opened then closed. "I'm going to lift you up, okay? Tell me if it hurts." He moved his arm to sit her up gently and she grabbed his jacket with a barely constrained scream.

"John, no...it hurts, stop, please, stop." She was panting into the side of his neck, a cold sweat on her forehead, as he paused his attempts to move her. The other 100th men were lurking towards the back of the group, waiting for John and Cass, the rest of the prisoners slowly meandering in the direction they were being ordered in. "I can't. I can't walk like this." The searing pain in her side was radiating through her back and legs. She was paralyzed by the burning sensation.

"Hambone!"

"Yes, Major?" He came running over.

"No matter what she fucking says, you help me lift her up. I'm going to carry her the rest of the way."

"Bucky-" Crank started.

"What are my other options, huh? I sit here and hold my wife as she freezes to death?" He was getting her out of this. No matter what it cost him.

Wordlessly, Hambone held Cass up, her head lolling onto his shoulder, her teeth drawing blood from her lip as John stood and lifted her to his chest.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled as he walked forwards slowly. Every step sent a tinge of pain through her hip. "I shouldn't have come."

"We'll talk about it later. When we get home." He thinks it was a tear he felt against his neck but he didn't say anything about it.

"Just tell me I'm a dumbass. Tell me you hate me. Please just get it over with." John had been so strict in keeping his distance from her. Had been cold and uninviting and the opposite of the man she had married in London. She had come here to save him but instead had ruined him. Ruined the relationship they had built. Cass was positive she would no longer be returning home with John on her arm. If she returned home at all. "Let me down. I'm feeling better." She pushed at his chest as a small sob escaped her lips. John stopped abruptly and tightened his arms around her impossibly so.

"You dumbass. Don't do that. Ever again." He was shaking with how afraid he was of losing her. She could feel it now that she was looking him in the eyes. "Conserve your energy. Don't fucking waste it on fighting me and hating yourself, got it?" She nodded silently.

"I love you," she whispered a few minutes later.

John thinks it sounded like goodbye.

#john egan #masters of the air #john egan fanfiction #masters of the air fanfiction #mota #john egan x oc #answered #cass and bucky

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wilchur · 6 months

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Saw some people on tiktok complaining about Astarion's reaction to Durge refusing Bhaal being harsh, not sweet enough and somewhat off-tone, but to me it's literally perfect?

(reaction in question)

I will straight-up die on the hill that spawn Astarion has all the right to be a bit bitter about Durge having their life fixed just like that because they're cool and brave and stood up to Dad. Because he did all the "right" things too didn't he? Yet he still has to deal with vampirism and once the tadpoles are gone will be confined to the darkness of the night again unless someone helps him figure out a solution. I don't get why people expect him to act all mature and therapeutised just because his personal quest is dealt with. Like I'm sorry, but you didn't fix him. Set him on a better path maybe, but he's been very openly disapproving of acts of heroism the entire game precisely because he's never been "lucky" enough to be on the receiving end. That doesn't just go away. Even if he didn't actually lash out a bit in game, I'd still headcanon the entire thing coming up eventually as an issue/argument in the future for Durge and Astarion who are in a romantic relationship. He might not be angry or resentful of Durge, but he's very much not pleased at the universe for getting the short end of the stick as always. And I think he's entitled on it, it is not fair.

Additionally (to me) this is perfect meta commentary on just how much this route sucks narratively. Putting aside the fact that the game is afraid to make The Urge be an actual game-changing mechanic that adds difficult dice rolls, debuffs etc so that it feels more like an actual thing your character is struggling to overcome, you can be an absolute CUNT the entire game and still get this ending. No matter how many people you kill, what you say, how you act, in the end Withers will come and wave his wand anyways. Even with the tadpoles that are famous for having little effect on the story.. gobbling them up like there's no tomorrow will still have a consequence, and unless you're fine with save-scumming it has the potential to be a Big Thing. Hells, you make one poor dialogue choice with Gale and he will end up dumping your ass at the end of the game. Durge gets off scot free. I hate it. Astarion is right.

#🧑 < exclusively plays the dark urge #🧑 < hates 90% of the narrative decisions #that's just how it be sometimes #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #durge spoilers #the dark urge #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #the dark urge spoilers #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion #durgestarion

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wehaveimagineshere · 8 months

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Request for Admin Ren! Could I request a scenario for Gale to react to his gender neutral crush accidentally saw him half naked because he was changing out of his dirty clothes? Their immediate reaction is to cover their eyes to look at the floor, apologise profusely, and leave! They're still embarrassed even when he finishes changing clothes but promised him that they would be more careful & tell them if there's anything he would like them to do to make it up to him! Please make it implied/suggested!

So I had to watch some romanced Gale scenes and I can't tell you how much I giggled and rewatched his little bop at the very end when you ask "Are you asking me to marry you?" His little wiggle is so funny. I sent it to Frost with tears in my eyes.

Okay so while I was editing, I realized I went off script just a liiiiiiittle bit. And typically I'd go and fix it but it was something that I kept referring to the rest of the prompt so I just kept it, cause otherwise I would've had to completely rewrite a good portion and I'd already been working on this for a while. Hopefully that's okay!

~*~*~

A blessed stream.

A strip of running water you could dunk your aching feet into but, more importantly, a strip of running water you could finally clean your dirty clothes in.

"I can get it started," you'd offered, shouldering off your pack in the middle of the camp. "Pile up your clothes and I'll take them to the stream."

"No, you shouldn't do it alone," comes Karlach, stabbing a pole into the ground to start pitching her tent.

"Then set up their tent," responds Shadowheart, already ruffling through her belongings and making a pile of dirty laundry. "The sooner we all set up, the sooner we can help them."

Dumping out your pack to make room, you start making the rounds. Shadowheart gives you explicit instruction to not mix her clothing with the others, a small pack pushed into your hands. Wyll also has his own separate pack, but with the promise that he'll do his own clothing. Astarion gives a playful little thank you and something about his underwear you tune out.

As you head for Gale, you're situating the different packs in your arms and on your shoulders, not paying attention to what's in front of you as you pause by his belongings. "My pack has room if you need." Wiggling that off your arm, you sling Wyll's pack onto your back. With your arms a bit more free, you finally glance up.

And your eyes snag on what you see.

Bare skin, muscles shifting as Gale tosses his shirt into a pile of clothes. Your eyes linger on his shoulders before dipping down to his waist, and when he notices your stunned presence and turns to face you, your gaze catches on his stomach.

"Give me just a moment, please," you hear him speak. "I'm almost done sorting."

Your lips press together as you watch his muscles dip, the way they ripple when he moves, the way they stretch when he reaches for something.

Oh gods. Stop staring stop staring stop staring--

"Okay. All ready." Tying a pack, he holds it out to you. "I'll make sure to settle quickly so I can help." When you don't move, you can practically hear the smirk when he says, "I believe my face is up here."

Face threatening to melt off your skull, you spin on your heel, palm pressing against your eyes as you turn your back to him. "I'm so sorry, I--"

"Not that I don't like being ogled at."

"That's so rude, I didn't--"

"I assumed my physicality wasn't as it was, what with sequestering myself in a room for a year. I suppose I had nothing to worry about."

If someone were to touch your face, they'd be singed. "I'm so sorry!"

He chuckles. "It's alright."

"It's not! I was staring and that's rude and there's a whole consent thing and--" oh gods you're rambling "--I shouldn't--I'm leaving."

Quick as a rabbit you dart off into the trees, head ducked to hide your molten face, hoping no one else in camp watched your absolute trash fire of a bluster. Reaching the isolated stream, you set all the packs onto the floor, crouch down, hide your face against your knees, and breathe.

In. Out. In. Out. It's not the first time you've seen a shirtless Gale, but that had been with his consent, a moment shared between the two of you. Not in the middle of camp. Sure, it wasn't your fault he'd foregone a shirt, but you didn't have to stare.

Gods. Why couldn't you just be normal? You're an adult, for crying out loud, not some bumbling teenager. The butterflies in your stomach around the wizard was one thing, but you just always became so self conscious--

Scrubbing your face, you inhale deeply and rise back to your full height. Stepping out of your shoes and rolling up your pants, you grab the first pack and get to work, hoping you can work off the embarrassment.

It works. You start feeling your heart calm and thoughts settle, finding a rhythm and ignoring your cold hands and feet.

"How can I help?"

Heart stuttering, your bottom lip gets trapped between your teeth as you turn. "Hi."

Gale smiles. "Hi." He's fully clothed this time, though he does kick off his shoes to join you in the stream after setting down more packs. A finger is held up as you open your mouth. "No apologies. You did nothing wrong."

You frown. "Ogling is wrong, Gale. At least in public." A tilt of the head. "Ish. Public-ish. That doesn't matter." You huff, feeling the creeping embarrassment return. "I feel bad. I feel like I did something I shouldn't have and the only way for me to feel better is to try to make it up to you somehow." Rubbing your forehead, you give a helpless shrug. "What can I do? Aside from, you know, making sure I don't do it again?"

Brown eyes study your face, a smile growing only to turn into a smirk as he steps closer, hands coming to rest on your hips. "I have many different ideas." He leans in, breath tickling your lips, voice dropping. "So many different ideas."

A different kind of heat floods your body as you swallow. Settling your own hands on his chest, you mutter, "Any I should know about?"

His lips catch your own, hungry but controlled. "Shall I show you?"

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 gale #gale/reader #gale x reader #bg3 gale/reader #bg3 gale x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gn reader #x reader

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autistichalsin · 5 months

Text

Okay I am going to get really salty, and I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore!!!! For the last time, THE GALE THING FROM THE LATEST HOTFIX WAS A BUG FIX, NOT A DIALOGUE CHANGE. It was Larian stopping Gale from leaving when a bug prevented you from giving him a magical item- NOT changing it so that the player refusing to give an item won't make Gale leave.

Stop freaking out at Larian over every little fucking thing, holy shit. There's criticizing and then there's being nitpickers- and worse, nitpickers who complain about things that weren't even what you say they were.

They didn't change Gale's characterization. He still leaves if you say that you aren't giving him an item.

Criticize Larian for their Astarion favoritism, criticize Larian for letting bugs for Halsin's voice lines and various Minthara-related things go unfixed for MONTHS, criticize Larian for not giving Wyll any different greetings for a romanced partner- all valid criticisms. But criticizing them because of a bug fix ain't it, fam.

#discourse #i guess? kind of?#bg3 fandom critical

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starboybutler · 1 month

Note

“You’re not in bed. I came looking for you.” and/or “I’m so proud of you, you know that?” for buckbucky

john sat on their newly refurbished couch silently, clock tick-tick-ticking by with each minute he sat there. he had a beer bottle clutched in his hand, eyes fixed on the wall in front of him as he just...thought.

they'd been free from the war for months, and yet john would wake up in a cold sweat every night, imagining he was still up in the air in a b17, getting shot at by enemy planes. he could hear his engines giving out, glass shattering, the blood of his men splattering across the interior of the aircraft.

he took a long drink from his beer, sighing deeply. what was he doing here?

"hey,"

a familiar, soft honeyed voice came from the stairs. gale cleven, who served with him and been with him throughout thick and thin, came down the stairs in nothing but his boxers, brows furrowed together with worry.

"you're not in bed. i came lookin' for you." he mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "can't sleep without my human furnace next to me."

bucky chuckled weakly, letting his now emoty beer bottle to the ground. "sorry. just wanted a drink."

gale glanced at the clock above their fireplace, frowning. "it's 2 am, bucky."

"and?"

the blonde sighed, waltzing over and sitting down on the couch next to him, leaning into his side. "bucky. what's wrong?"

john huffed softly, placing a hand around gale's slim waist and pulling him close. his warmth was comforting to him.

"just....what am i doing, gale?" he laughed dryly, rubbing at his temples with calloused thumbs. "the war's over, and here i am-- i've got a house, a boyfriend, all the beer i can drink, and i'm still...i'm still thinking about it. everything that happened."

gale was tracing little circles into his chest, lookig up into his eyes gently. "that's normal, bucky. we went through hell up there. we lost so many friends, so many people we'll never forget. no one's asking you to just...move on. it takes time."

john went silent, eyes staring dead ahead at the newly painted wall ahead of him. he remembered painting that with gale, all the goofing around and laughter they had shared. croz had came over and helped a bit, too. they had gotten housewarming gifts from their friends that served with them-- the one's that made it, anyway. he just couldn't shake the thought that there was always someone missing.

"i promised curt he would see out house after the war," he choked out, unable to hold back his tears anymore. "i told him i was gonna be with you, even if it killed me. he was so excited to see us together, buck."

"i know, bucky." gale whispered, pulling his head into his chest as he sobbed quietly. "i know."

"i just...i feel like i failed him. all of them. they'll never get to know the comfort of having a life like this. why do i get to have this and they didn't?"

"hey hey, no. none of that." gale whispered, stroking his hair. "our friends would be so proud of you. i'm so proud of you, you know that? they would want you to have this. i know curt is just beaming at us right now. he's so so happy for you, john. so happy,"

bucky sobbed again, tears rolling down his cheeks heavily as he buried his face into gale's bare chest. he could feel the ghost of scars there. "i know. i'm sorry, buck."

"don't be," the blonde hushed, burying his face into his dark curls. "let it all out. i'll be right here. i'll always be here for you."

#this got sad sorry #i feel angsty today #mota #gale #john #buck x bucky #masters of the air #clegan #eganven #asks #azzy blurbs #azzy.txt

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thatfreshi · 8 months

Text

"Just Drunk" (Uni AU P. 13)

tw - drunkenness, mentions of abuse

The date with Halsin goes off without a hitch. No funny business happens of course, nothing further than a peck on the cheek. It's late when you get back, with no text from Astarion. At this point it's the early hours of the morning, close to three, and you hear two familiar male voices out in the hall.

"God, I don't know how they made you an RA! You're sloppy drunk right now Astarion, it's embarrassing."

You were about to go to sleep, but apparently not anymore.

"Gale, you're such a Debbie Downer! What, can I not have a little fun?"

"No, not when you can barely walk. Did you drive here?"

"A magician never tells."

When you open your door, rubbing your eyes at the bright lights in the hall, you do indeed see Gale and Astarion, the latter leaning awkwardly against the wall.

"Thank God. Please Tav, talk some sense into him."

At this point, your albino friend is laughing to himself over nothing, clearly hysterical.

"Oh Gale, you think Tav can fix this? You think any of you can fix this?! I'm doomed! Entirely doomed! And there's nothing either of your sorry souls can do about it."

You don't know what to say. Sure, he said he was going to go get drunk, but you figured it was the kind of thing where he'd have like three drinks and just get a little loose, have some fun.

"Aster, did you really drive back to campus like this?"

Deep down, you know he's not going to answer your question with any reason, and it pains you. Everything about him right now pains you, in a way you've never felt before.

"So what if I did? Should I have called you, asked for you to drive me home? So you can keep saying pretty things at me, so you can keep getting my hopes up?"

He slides to sit down in the hallway while you and Gale just watch, unable to look away.

"It's just like he says you know. Without the magazines covers, the fashion shows, I'm nothing! Just some sad broke kid who wanted to go to law school. What a joke..."

You go to grab his hand to pull him up, to try and lead him back to his room, but he pulls the sleeve down as he stands, showing Gale all the scabbed marks you saw before, back when they were open wounds.

"Look! You think I'm so pretentious right? That my life is so perfect? Look Gale, look at them! Think you're so cool now huh? All those times you and Shadowheart talked behind my back... and now you want to be friends? All because some stranger told you I'm a good person?"

You're holding him up at this point as Gale stands in shock, unsure of what to say.

"Astarion, you need to go back to your room now. This isn't helping anyone."

You motion to Gale to help you with the lanky drunk, and he comes to your aid, trying to avert his gaze from that ripped-up arm. When you get the chance, you pull his sleeve back down. After a lot of mumbling from Astarion and some awkward movement down the hall, you get to his door. Luckily the RA master keys work on all the rooms, so Gale scans in. You lead him into his bedroom.

"Gale, can you get some water? God damn it Astarion, why?"

He's not all there anymore, starting to lose the rage he had before he got back into his room. Mumbles come out of his mouth, words you don't hear as you take off his shoes.

"What did you say?"

"I said... how was Halsin? He's a sweet one, isn't he?"

"Don't worry about that right now Aster, we need to get you some water and you need to get to bed."

As if on cue, Gale comes in with a cup.

"I don't want it from him."

Astarion glares at his fellow RA, and you motion for him to leave.

"I got it, thank you so much Gale, really."

He leaves the cup with you and makes his way out of the dorm. You try to hand the pale man the water, but he simply ignores you, staring somewhere that isn't even existent. Instead, you leave the water on his nightstand, and try to get him to lie down. When he does finally go supine, you sit by him on the bed for a moment, realizing just how horrible you feel. He tries to say something, but drifts off, falling asleep soon after.

After you know he's fully unconscious, something in you just snaps, and you start sobbing. It's impossible. His entire situation is simply impossible, and he's right. There's nothing you can do about it. You can say all the nice things you want, give him all the stuff he already knows, but there's no way out. At least not an easy one. Something in your heart winces though, as if you need to throw up, you're filled with both concern and disgust. This soul you've gotten to know so quickly, he's become such a staple, and yet lives are so fleeting. What if he hadn't made it back? Even worse, what if he had hurt someone else on the way back? That fear swallows you whole, and you decide not to leave, instead walking out to sleep on the couch.

When you awake the next morning, it's to the sound of the damned espresso machine. You rub your eyes, and look up towards the kitchenette, and surely enough there's Astarion, wide awake, even if he looks like a train wreck. For the first time ever, you see his hair a mess.

"Good morning."

He sips his coffee, and you slowly sit up. You're not sure what to say, the night prior very clear in your head. When you do go to open your mouth, he talks before you can start.

"I'm sorry you had to see that spectacle last night. I expected you'd be in bed with the hippie."

With coffee in hand, he walks over to sit next to you on the couch.

"Been a while since I've been quite that drunk."

"You... you really scared me."

Your eyes well with tears again.

"I was fine darling, just drunk."

"Yeah, but you were saying a lot of scary, sad things. You, you showed Gale your arm, yelled at him."

"I remember, sadly. Guess I'll have to deal with that at some point, but I have to leave for the fitting soon."

"You're still going to that?"

"Of course. Tav, this isn't optional. Cazador, he's not the kind that you just play disappearing games with."

That hopelessness from last night, it swims back into your system, infecting your entire nervous system. You're sick to your stomach.

"You can't! You can't... you can't go."

You're choking out sobs at this point, begging some kind of higher power to undo all of this. Astarion doesn't know what to say, unsure why you're crying so much. This is just life, and the lows are extremely low.

"That's not how it works darling. I have to. It's just how things are."

There's nothing else to say, because he's right. It just hurts, to watch him in pain, and you know only more awaits after last night's choice to ignore Cazador's phone call.

"I'll be okay. I've been through worse."

And then he gives you a weak smile, but it's genuine. A tear drops out of one of his eyes, landing on the couch.

"Now, it's best if you get going. But maybe I'll see you later?"

"Yeah... yeah, I'll see you later."

You get up and wipe at your eyes, grabbing your phone off the coffee table.

"Oh, and how were things with Halsin?"

How could he even ask about such a thing, at a moment like this?

"It... it was fine."

In truth, it was much better than fine. And yet, the memory fades in comparison to this, to what you feel right now. But, just what is it? He says nothing in return, and you leave, letting the question of what feeling is nagging at you haunt you for the rest of the day.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #angst #freshiau #gale of waterdeep #halsin

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