[onlyfngs]

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘𝐅𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⸻ an  independent  &  selective  blog  for a canon compliant & multiverse portrayal of 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐍, the pale elf.

( . . . ) with no hope of escaping his vampiric master it took another monster to kidnap Astarion for him to have a taste of freedom after two hundred years of bondage. Somehow changed by the experience the sun didn't harm him and he couldn't feel the compelling force of his master anymore. The vampire spawn would have to figure out what had changed exactly. And make it permanent so he'd never have to go back, except to maybe kill the bastard.

𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: breaking the cycle of abuse, navigating autonomy, hurt people hurt people, lost memories, bloodthirst, wanting to feel safe, falling for the rush of power.

⠀      ⠀ ⠀      ⠀⠀⠀       ⠀  𝐈. 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐃 𝐈𝐈. 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒

[onlyfngs]

i just wanted to stop by and say how much i admire your graphics. your blog is so beautiful !

I am so thankful! Seriously, I doubt myself and the things I create so often ( like most others, I assume ) and I adore you for spreading positivity like this. Thank you so much, love. I can only aspire being such a sweetheart myself! I'm sending kisses your way!

[highfaeried]

limbs did not feel like herself, for quite sometime she avoided everyone and everything. any loud noise she would hide deep within the roots of the forest, her ancient limbs taking root. a sense of familiarity. of the last thousands of years. every glance upon her own skin from her very own eyes it does not seem true. dazed, afraid. she dozes for what seems like weeks, months. she was forgotten.

deep in thought, yet not enough. she remains. fingertips touch at her temples, long pointed nails nearly pierces her own flesh at how hard she pushes. anxious. afraid. worried. her memories... they truly would not come. a void. nothingness. it plagues her, eating at her very root. viciousness sinks in. sera steals, lies and cheats for a time, the young thing had nothing, always running back to the depths of spring.

her own prison of a home.

every day was the same, until it wasn't. until, oh hello there. pointed ears pull back, as her neck cranes to the left to take in the other. seraphina had been tracking him for days, curious to see what he was about. he seemed.. harmless. pale piercing orbs are wide on him, as she scans him up and down. he hadn't belonged. lips curl slightly, as she rises carefully, long dark hair rooted at the grass. sera was far too beyond curious of him. her voice is careful, ❝ is it? not many come through here... ❞

[onlyfngs]

Watching  her  match  his  curiosity  felt  rewarding.  It  didn't  make  Astarion  disregard  the  worry  of  being  alone  in  a  strange,  dangerous  land,  but  he  felt  compelled  to  step  closer.  The  elegant  steps  he  took  toward  her  a  sign  of  how  he  had  navigated  through  these  woods,  he  approached  her  like  somebody  would  a  deer,  careful  not  to  scare  her  away.

❝I  tried  to  avoid  people,❞  he  answered  a  question  she  hadn't  even  asked.  The  humor  in  his  eyes  gentle,  he  shrugged  at  the  obvious  failure.  ❝Unsuccessfully,  it  seems.❞

As  untrusting  as  he  was  of  his  ancient  kin,  it  was  exciting  to  meet  somebody.  Astarion  wanted  to  examine  her,  to  see  if  there  were  any  similarities  to  be  found.  Of  course  there  was  the  obvious,  but  that  didn't  make  him  part  of  them  and  so  far  there  was  nothing  about  her  demeanor  he  could  identify  with.  As  the  pale  elf  stood  before  her  he  looked  her  up  and  down,  meticulously,  almost  like  one  would  a  caged  animal.

❝Why  are  you  not  with  everybody  else  in  the  village?❞  he  asked  and  the  next  question  came  to  mind  right  after.  Maybe  this  forest  wasn't  as  uninhabited  as  he  thought.  His  sanguine  eyes  wandered  along  the  trunks  of  trees  and  brushes.  Of  course  there  were  things  hiding,  but  he  would  hope  none  of  them  to  be  other  High  Fae.  They  intimidated  him,  even  if  all  he  knew  about  them  was  hearsay.  ❝Do  you  live  in  the  forest?  Do  many?❞

Astarion  didn't  hide  the  weels  of  his  mind  spinning  and  the  questions  behind  his  eyes.  Not  completely  lost  to  his  thoughts  he  had  the  sense  to  remember  his  manners  and  ask  another  question,  though.  ❝What's  your  name?❞

[achitophel]

"It's beautiful. Strange, but... beautiful."

Baldur's Gate III - Astarion on the Astral Plane

Mods: [ 1 2 ]

[b1gtimerush]

actions speak louder than words non - verbal / action prompts from yours truly. (add a "swap" to swap the sender/receiver in the prompt (or just do it manually).)

back, sender gives receiver a back hug.

beckon, sender beckons receiver closer with a finger.

blood, sender cleans blood off of receiver.

book, sender helps receiver get a book from a higher part of the shelf.

care, sender takes care of receiver when they're sick.

catch, sender catches receiver by the waist after they bump into each other.

choke, sender saves receiver from choking by giving them the heimlich.

cold, sender places their jacket over receiver's shoulders.

cry, sender wipes tears off receiver's face with their thumbs.

dance, sender sticks a hand out to receiver and invites them to dance.

dip, sender skinny dips in front of receiver and invites them to join.

dog, sender's dog pulls them in receiver's direction.

drive, sender drives receiver somewhere in their car.

drag, sender drags receiver into a room and closes the door behind them.

draw, sender draws receiver like one of their french girls.

face, sender turns receiver's face towards them.

flower, sender gives receiver a flower.

footsie, sender initiates footsie with receiver under the table.

forehead, sender presses their forehead against receiver's.

grab, sender grabs receiver's wrist to stop them from leaving.

jump, sender jumps onto receiver's back.

kiss, sender kisses receiver.

link, sender links arms with receiver while walking.

massage, sender offers receiver a massage.

patch, sender patches up receiver's wounds.

piano, sender teaches receiver how to play the piano.

pin, sender pins receiver's hands behind their back.

pluck, sender plucks something out of receiver's hair.

press, sender presses receiver against a wall.

propose, sender proposes to receiver.

quiet, sender gestures for receiver to be quiet.

rest, sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder.

serenade, sender serenades receiver with a song.

sign, sender walks into a sign and receiver sees.

size, sender measures the size of their hand against receiver's.

shoes, sender removes receiver's shoes for them.

sun, sender rubs sunblock onto receiver's back.

tattoo, sender gives receiver a tattoo.

tie, sender helps tie receiver's tie.

tuck, sender tucks receiver's hair behind their ear.

umbrella, sender lets receiver under their umbrella.

warning, sender presses a knife against receiver's neck as a warning.

zip, sender needs receiver's help to zip up the back of their dress.

[sonnenreich]

Baldur's  Gate  was  not  originally  a  place  where  the  sorcerer  felt  comfortable.  In  theory,  he  enjoyed  the  busy  streets,  the  hustle  and  bustle  of  the  merchants  and  even  the  stirring  commotions,  which  was  always  easy  to  observe  from  his  doorstep. 

Sooner  or  later  it  led  everyone  to  the  big  city,  be  it  curiosity,  new  opportunities  or  even  desperation—or  hope,  however  you  wanted  to  label  it.  The  blond  sorcerer  was  used  to  nature,  to  living  in  harmony  with  the  woods.  A  fact  that  had  often  led  to  him  being  mistaken  for  a  druid  rather  than  a  sorcerer.  Who  he  was,  however,  had  less  to  do  with  what  he  craved  and  more  to  do  with  how  he  was  raised.  Magic  had  been  woven  in  his  cells  since  birth,  when  he  had  turned  his  little  eyes  to  the  sunlight  as  an  infant,  his  fate  had  already  been  sealed.  He  had  not  chosen  the  power,  it  had  chosen  him.  And  so  did  Lathander.

As  a  Sun  Sorcerer,  his  connection  to  the  light  was  of  great  importance  and  was  reflected  not  only  in  his  radiant  hair  and  shining  eyes,  but  also  in  his  behaviour  and  interaction  with  his  surroundings.  Although  he  did  not  shy  away  from  the  darkness,  he  was  not  fond  of  it  either,  yet  it  belonged  together.  Two  sides  of  the  same  coin. 

It  was  all  the  more  amusing  that  he  had  only  recently  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  being  that  was  forced  to  walk  exclusively  in  the  dark.  Something  that  would  probably  take  all  the  joy  out  of  Zeev's  life  if  he  were  ever  to  share  the  same  fate.  He  couldn't  imagine  it  was  any  different  for  him.  Compassion,  though,  often  seemed  to  achieve  the  opposite  of  what  Zeev  had  intended  when  directed  at  Astarion.  The  shared  evening  was  a  few  nights  in  the  past,  though,  and  despite  their  thoroughly  profound  meeting,  the  sorcerer  hadn't  expected  to  see  him  again. 

He  had  struck  him  as  one  of  those  people  who  enjoyed  the  moment  while  it  lasted,  but  was  in  no  risk  of  letting  emotional  obligations  and  sentimentality  hold  him  back—perhaps  due  to  an  experience  that  had  taught  him  lessons.  After  all,  this  could  lead  to  dependence—and  if  there  was  one  thing  Zeev  was  convinced  of,  it  was  the  other's  desire  for  independence.  But  perhaps,  and  he  would  admit  this  naivety  to  himself,  he  had  been  wrong  about  the  first  assumption.  On  the  other  hand,  connections  didn't  always  have  to  be  emotional—sometimes  they  were  merely  practical. 

And  the  way  Zeev  had  just  seen  him  crouching  on  the  floor,  he  was  no  doubt  convinced  of  his  usefulness.  The  sorcerer  had  just  been  about  to  leave  the  shop  via  the  back  exit  and  stow  a  few  belongings  when  the  clattering  noise  brought  him  to  the  front. 

Although  he  was  surprised,  there  was  a  distinctly  strange  calmness  about  him.  Admittedly,  had  Astarion  been  a  stranger,  he  would  no  doubt  have  reacted  differently—and  would  have  been  at  a  disadvantage  to  his  disgruntlement. 

Zeev  had  only  been  able  to  raise  his  blond  eyebrow  at  the  vampire's  reply  and,  unimpressed,  he  blew  a  little  air  out  of  his  nose.  “And  they  say  I'm  dramatic.”

And  with  they  he  actually  just  meant him.

The  hint  of  a  smile  graced  his  lips  and  he  sauntered  briefly  over  to  the  door,  leaning  against  the  window  and  squinting  curiously  through  the  gap  that  let  in  pure  white  moonlight  and  made  his  skin  appear  pale  for  once,  too.

There  was  no  sign  of  pursuers,  but  that  could  change  at  any  time.  Zeev  moved  towards  a  shelf  not  far  from  the  vampire. 

Alongside  the  smell  of  earth  and  vanilla,  the  iron  stench  of  the  blood  Astarion  was  losing  stood  out  clearly.  Zeev  had  not  yet  studied  the  nature  of  the  night  creatures  and  therefore  knew  as  little  as  most  of  the  inhabitants.  This  ‘knowledge’  consisted  more  of  prejudices,  stories  that  had  changed  over  the  years  and  unfounded  assumptions  that  only  served  a  narrative  that  spread  hostility.  Regardless  of  his  lack  of  knowledge  he  was  certain  that  vampires  actually  weren't  prone  to  bleeding.  If  at  all.  This  led  to  the  theory  that  Astarion  must  have  acquired  this  nourishing  fuel  not  long  ago.  Had  that  put  him  in  this  predicament?

Spindleweed  wasn't  a  particularly  large  shop.  Compared  to  most  of  the  usual  shops  for  magic  materials  and  ingredients—especially  with  Sorcerous  Sundries  a  few  blocks  away—it  offered  a  much  smaller  selection,  but  more  intensive  advice  and  demonstrably  high  quality.  Both  in  terms  of  raw  materials  and  potions.  Most  people  doubt  that  he  made  them  himself,  he  kept  quiet  about  it. 

Hissing,  the  fireplace  regained  warmth  as  it  came  back  to  life.  A  candlestick  followed,  which  he  placed  nearby  to  have  a  better  view  of  him  as  he  leaned  against  the  table. 

“May  I?”  Zeev  had  asked,  pointing  to  the  linen  shirt  that  made  his  currently  slouching  body  look  a  little  lost.  Zeev  waited  patiently  for  the  answer,  but  couldn't  quite  understand  what  was  going  on  behind  the  red  eyes  that  scrutinized  him.

“I’m  out  of  potions  for  today,  had  planned  to  prepare  some  in  the  early  morning  sun.  You’ll  get  the  traditional  treatment  for  now.  Don’t  you  worry,  it’s  going  to  be  just  as  effective  but  less  elegant.  Consider  it  a  special  treatment  just  for  you.” 

The  reasons  why  Astarion  refused  his  help  were  of  little  importance  to  Zeev.  Whether  it  was  stubbornness,  defiance  or  something  far  more  profound,  it  didn't  matter  and  if  the  sorcerer  didn't  have  to  stain  himself  with  other  people's  blood,  that  was  fine  with  him. 

The  room  was  lit  up  with  orange  tones  that  reflected  warmly  on  the  dark  wood  of  the  furniture.  The  shelves,  wall  cupboards  and  chests  of  drawers  were  full  and  filled  with  all  kinds  of  supposedly  magical  knick-knacks.  One  or  two  taxidermied  animals  watched  their  activities  with  beady  black  eyes.  Amphibian  body  parts  shimmered  yellow  in  ethanol.  Strings  hanging  across  the  room,  connecting  one  corner  to  the  other,  provided  space  for  hanging  herbs  and  dried  bundles  of  flowers.  Combined  with  the  smell  of  books  and  antiques,  they  formed  an  intense  olfactory  experience  that  was  both  calming  and  nostalgic  for  Zeev.  It  suggested  home,  even  though  it  was  so  far  away.  Like  all  that  he  loved  dearly.

Stopping  the  bleeding  was  the  first  order  of  business,  making  the  ointment  the  second.  The  sorcerer  could  have  offered  to  heal  him  again,  but  he  had  made  it  clear  that  touching  him  was  out  of  the  question. 

“What  in  the  name  of  the  sun  has  happened  to  you?”  he  finally  ventured  to  ask  as  he  handed  the  vampire  fresh  cloths  that  smelled  faintly  of  alcohol.  Not  that  Zeev  suspected  Astarion  might  be  expecting  blood  poisoning,  but  better  safe  than  sorry. 

Meanwhile,  he  plucked  yarrow  and  eucalyptus  from  the  ceiling,  briefly  disappearing  into  a  secluded  corner  of  the  room,  giving  the  impression  that  he  had  abandoned  Astarion  to  his  fate  only  to  return  as  if  his  absence  had  no  more  intention  but  to  fool.  Only  those  who  looked  very  closely  could  recognise  that  he  was  obviously  holding  something  in  his  hand,  but  it  was  so  fine  that  it  could  only  be  seen  at  the  right  angle  in  brief,  fleeting  moments.  The  faint  shine  of  a  hair.  From  the  suspected  colour,  one  could  have  assumed  that  Zeev  had  torn  out  a  strand  of  his  own  hair,  except  that  his  hairstyle  was  much  shorter. 

Despite  the  shocking  fact  that  Astarion  was  bleeding  and  obviously  had  a  bruise  on  his  ribs,  the  sorcerer  took  his  time  mixing  the  healing  ointment.  Rushing  wouldn't  help  him  at  all.

“Did  you engage  with  the  wrong  people?”  The  hint  of  an  amused  smile  tugged  at  his  lips  as  he  pressed  the  pestle  into  the  mortar,  his  concentration  waning  in  the  process,  eyes  always  darting  back  to  Astarion.  Despite  his  calmness,  he  still  seemed  to  be  able  to  muster  up  some  concern.  Smoothly,  he  chopped  up  the  dried  herbs,  poured  in  some  sun  water  and  ground  everything  into  a  green  paste.  Quietly,  he  whispered  something  to  the  mixture,  which  could  have  been  a  spell  or  half  as  powerful  wish.  He  stepped  back  to  Astarion  and  offered  him  the  bowl. 

“Here,  your  ear  is  not  so  much  as  grazed,  it’ll  stop  bleeding  eventually.  The  ointment  will  sooth  the  swelling  and  before  you  know  it,  all  will  be  fine.  If  there’s  something  internally  that  I’m  not  aware  of  right  now  please  let  me  know.  I  could  see  how  you  can  take care  of  that,  too.”

The  other's  hesitation  did  not  go  unnoticed.

“It’s  either  unnecessary  pain  or  crushed  herbs.  It’ll  even  leave  you  smelling  really  nice.”  He  chuckled  faintly,  throwing  a  charming  smile  his  way  to  encourage  him. 

“So,  are  those  people  who’ve  chased  you  a  threat  I  need  to  be  aware  of?  Don’t  get  me  wrong,  I  enjoy  your  company,  but  I’d  rather  not  have  you  bled  on  my  belongings  every  second  night.”

[onlyfngs]

With  no  quick  fix  at  hand,  Astarion  found  himself  feeling  strangely  uncomfortable.  Pocketing  a  potion  and  leaving  again  would've  been  a  favour  the  vampire  wouldn't  have  felt  obligated  to  return.  Zeev  taking  his  time  and  attention  to  help  him  was  a  different  thing  entirely.  His  helping  hands  and  attentive  eyes  were  a  kind  of  care  that  Astarion  didn't  feel  equipped  to  receive,  although  he  currently  also  couldn't  entirely  refuse.  While  he  had  suffered  no  life  threatening  injuries  he  was  in  pain  still.  He  let  himself  be  examined,  but  raised  mental  a  wall  to  hide  the  things  he  did  not  want  his  honeyed  eyes  to  perceive.  The  only  thing  he  made  clear  was  that  he  preferred  not  to  be  touched. 

Astarion  huffed  at  his  question,  letting  him  go  off  to  do  his  craft  and  using  the  moment  to  ponder  over  the  situation.  As  dramatic  an  entrance  as  he  had  made  and  as  uncomfortable  as  he  looked,  this  was  no  unordinary  predicament  for  the  elf.  Although  it  raised  the  question  of  just  how  capable  he  was  on  his  own.  He  would  have  to  give  his  companions  a  piece  of  his  mind  on  how  careless  they  were  to  have  him  wander  around  the  city  alone.  But  no,  he  didn't  want  to  do  that  either  and  because  he  didn't  want  to  sit  there  and  be  mad  at  himself  he  decided  to  stop  thinking  about  it  altogether. 

❝Did  I  —  ?❞  he  asked  as  if  offended.  His  crimson  eyes  narrowed  to  spot  the  amusement  in  the  mortals  demeanor.  It  made  him  raise  his  eyebrow  and  smirk  himself.  He  knew  how  to  push  people's  buttons  and  enjoyed  doing  so.  He  could  let  Zeev  have  some  fun  doing  it,  too.  If  that's  all  it  took  to  be  helped  he  didn't  mind. 

Following  his  instructions  he  applied  the  paste  on  his  wound,  although  he  wrinkled  his  nose  doing  so.  Really  nice  was  absolutely  subjective.  He  found  the  smell  clashed  with  his  own  scent,  but  had  learned  that  there  were  few  luxuries  in  the  live  he  had  been  catapulted  into.  And  even  before  that  —  there  had  been  no  opulence  in  the  life  under  Cazador's  thumb,  not  for  Astarion. 

❝I'm  surprised  nobody  else  has  bled  on  your  things,  ❞  during  the  time  here  he  had  been  given  the  impression  that  Zeev  had  no  idea  about  the  dire  situation  the  city  was  in,  but  he  had  written  it  off  as  a  joke  until  now.  Now  it  dawned  on  him,  he  genuinely  didn't  seem  to  be  aware.  With  the  look  of  somebody  who  wasn't  equipped  with  the  skills  to  handle  the  situation  on  his  face  he  wished  himself  away.  Have  the  Warlock  tell  him  or  anybody  else  who  had  a  tendeny  for  empathy.  A  moment  of  silence  went  by  as  he  thought  about  what  his  companions  would  say,  but  he  gave  up  and  decided  his  way  was  fine,  too.  ❝Darling,  there's  an  army  marching  on  the  city.  And  murdering  cultists  inside.  And  an  Elderbrain  collecting  people  for  its'  hivemind.  Absolute  chaos.  Don't  ask  me  how  I  got  involved,  I'm  flabbergasted  myself.❞ He  acted  like  his  animated  self,  raising  his  shoulders  and  hands  as  he  was  done.  Such  an  innocent  gesture  was  hard  to  sell  by  a  rogue  like  him,  but  it  was  genuine.  He  had  done  nothing  to  end  up  kidnapped  by  mindflayers  and  was  only  rising  to  the  occasion  with  the  help  of  others. 

❝Would  you  like  to  know  more?  Be  better  prepared  for  what's  coming?❞  The  words  came  out  on  their  own  and  only  after  did  he  realize  why  he  said  them.  Zeev  had  taken  care  of  him  and  it  felt  good  to  give  back  a  little.  And  he  was  a  useful  person  to  be  around.  Astarion  liked  the  sorcerer,  but  a  small  part  of  him  couldn't  just  let  him  like  a  person  for  no  other  reason  than  liking  them.  ❝Let  me  introduce  you  to  some  useful  people.  You  could  keep  enjoying  my  company  while  I  bleed  on  their  things.❞

The  vampire  winked  as  if  to  seduce  him  to  a  fun  time.  The  gesture  meant  all  sorts  of  different  things  to  different  people  and  worked  because  their  own  minds  did  all  the  work  of  convincing  somebody  for  him.  But  he  also  offered  to  fill  in  whichever  details  Zeev  needed  filled  before  making  a  decision.  Astarion  explained  that  he  had  just  recently  returned  to  the  city  with  companions  and  that  they  didn't  really  have  a  choice  but  to  face  these  threats.  ❝You  have  a  choice,  but  you  seem  the  type  who  likes  to  help  people.❞  Spoken  as  much  as  an  insult  as  a  compliment. 

Ultimately,  they  ended  up  finding  their  way  to  the  Elfsong  Tavern  together.  It  was  lively  this  evening,  but  more  quiet  that  he  had  ever  found  it  to  be.  The  artists  performing  created  a  somber  and  emotional  atmosphere  and  everybody  seemed  to  be  completely  taken  by  it.  Astarion  even  spotted  a  fiery  Tiefling  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  brooding  over  many  emptied  tankards.  As  hard  as  he  tried  to  keep  everybody  at  a  distance,  seeing  her  like  that  hurt  a  little.  They  walked  past  and  up  the  staircase.  By  cheating  the  proprietor  a  little  they  were  staying  completely  free  of  charge. 

Surprisingly,  opening  the  door  to  the  room  revealed  only  two  of  his  companions.  ❝Where  are  the  others?❞  he  asked,  feeling  a  little  worry  in  his  chest  but  shoving  it  aside  completely.  ❝Well,  it's  probably  for  the  best.  Gale,  Shadowheart,  this  is  Zeev.❞

They  were  both  very  friendly,  but  openly  confused.  Astarion  had  been  sent  out  on  a  task  which  by  no  means  involved  bringing  back  a  stranger.  Especially  because  they  were  dealing  with  a  shapeshifter  problem.  ❝Don't  look  at  me  like  that.  You  both  can't  say  no  to  strays,❞  He  pointed  to  the  dog  and  owlbear,  cuddling  on  a  bed,  seemingly  asleep.  ❝And  he  might  not  brush  his  hair,  but  he's  very  helpful.  He  patched  me  up.  I  thought  he  should  know  about  the  dangers  in  this  city  and  what  better  experts  to  tell  him  all  about  that  than  you?  Gale,  tell  him  about  mindflayers.  Zeev,  make  yourself  comfortable.❞

[onlyfngs]

I AM BACK! I have waited for the right moment, but those are a myth so I've decided it's now. Pushing myself back into the water in a sense. I will write today and if you don't see any replies on this blog by tonight you're all allowed to zap Astarion with Lathander's cannon.

[onlyfngs]

oh,  oops,  i've  fallen  and  dropped  some  POSITIVITY  in  your  inbox,  can  you  help  me  pick  it  up?  (˘͈  ᵕ  ˘͈♡)  i'm  simply  in  awe  of  what  you're  doing  with  your  muse  here.  every  reply  you  treat  me  to,  every  headcanon  you  share  and  every  thread  you  publish  is  a  delight  to  read.  it's  clear  that  you  understand  the  source  material  to  a  point  where  i  can  literally  hear  Astarion's  voice  in  your  texts  but  at  the  same  time  you're  able  to  breath  something  different  into  this  portrayal  and  it's  just  *chefs  kiss*.  apart from that i  love  talking  to  you  and  i'm  about  to  annoy  you  forever, you're  stuck  with  me  now  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ mwah, i can't wait to kick some asses in bg3 together!

My poor little heart might explode, help. This is the most beautiful compliment anybody could ever receive from the bestest mutual one could ever have! I'm going to hold it so dear and never forget it. I was planning to never let you go anyway! If there's one thing I'm one hundred percent sure about us that the two of will never run out of things to yap about. MWAH! ( I can't wait to show you how to romance correctly, theheh )

[onlyfngs]

☆ put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs. it's time to spread positivity!

Oh my god, I'm not worthy!! Thank you so much!! I feel so honored and it means a hell of a lot, especially coming from you, who inspires me so much. You've been wonderful and uplifting ever since our first interaction and I can only hope to learn to be such a powerful force as well. I'm sending many, many kisses your way!

[onlyfngs]

I'm going to be much less active ( if at all ) until the 13th, maybe longer. The time I have between packing and renovating really doesn't come with much muse to write. See you once I've moved house!

[onlyfngs]

I've moved! There's still so, so much to do, though, and I need to get used to the new enviroment. Big changes like this make me anxious. Please, bear with me a while longer. If inspiration finds me I might write here and there, but I can't make any promises. My DMs are open and I will share Discord with mutuals who ask for it ( There are people I don't want to share it with, so I won't just post it publicly. BUT PLEASE, don't be shy ). I'm so thankful for the people who sent love and well wishes. You're on my mind, sweethearts.

[onlyfngs]

I'm going to be much less active ( if at all ) until the 13th, maybe longer. The time I have between packing and renovating really doesn't come with much muse to write. See you once I've moved house!

[achitophel]

"It's always a pleasure to see you sauntering over."

Baldur's Gate III - Astarion

mods: 1 2 3

[vulpesse]

　　 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 ? 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄, 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐒, 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 ? this hunger festers in the marrow of her bones, blooms in the hollow caverns of her heart, howls and then cries in the profundity of her clenched, starving belly. once, these appetites had been cause of loathe against her progenitor ▬▬ why have you cursed me to devour all that i love ? she had believed herself to be imperfect, to be the offspring of a love that had turned monstrous and rotten in the womb of the all - mother ( ... ) but such deprecating thoughts belonged to the past, to days woven out of loneliness and self - deprecation, to a heart yet unripe and unprepared to fully embrace all its desirous, selfish demands.

her clawed hands reached out, cradling the sides of his visage with a gentleness that was seldom found amidst the beasts of the wilds. soft thumbs languidly brushed the sharpness of his lineaments, trailing a purposefully slow path from the high peaks of his cheekbones to the softness of his cheeks and ultimately towards that mouth that hid fangs as tremendously vicious as her own. her wispy lashes had fluttered below half - mast, thus only partially concealing black pupils that had grown wide and large in his presence ; bewitched, shadowed by sentiments that now coiled around the frailty of her throat with vine - like tendrils. ❝ this hunger is a part of who i am. if i were to give up on it, what would be left of me ? ❞ a playful caress of her thumb to his lower lip punctuated her response, summoning a quietude between them that felt much too electric, charged with the boisterous clashing of their mutual hungers and followed suit by the echoing clanking of those shackles that remained tight and unyielding around their wrists.

her head canted to one side. an unconscious gesture, compelled by a curiosity that demanded to be fed and satisfied. ❝ there is hope in your eyes ... it is a gentle gleam in the endless obscurity of your inhibitions. why have you given up on your hunger ? what are you afraid of, my dear ? ❞ the nymph leaned closer, her touch coaxed him to lift his head just slightly so that their gazes could meet. in full, to swiftly diminish any existential distance left between them. ❝ you were ready to mourn the loss of my hunger, but you have never paid such doleful respects to what you have suppressed within yourself until now. let me see the real you ... let me see your hunger. ❞

[onlyfngs]

𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧  𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭  𝐡𝐢𝐬  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞  𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰  𝐢𝐭𝐬'  𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬  𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧  𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.  There  was  hunger  and  viciousness  within  him  that  he  had  never  tapped  into.  Her  touch  created  ripples  in  the  deep  caverns  of  his  true  self,  awakening  a  consciousness  that  he  had  been  forced  to  give  up  on.  His  crimson  eyes  sparked  with  anger  as  he  was  faced  with  the  fact  that  he  had  become  what  pleased  his  master.  And  the  question  of  who  he  was  beyond  that,  now  that  he  was  capable  of  deciding  himself.  Standing  before  her,  it  felt  blatantly  obvious  that  he  was  missing  pieces  of  the  puzzle  that  made  him  whole. 

He  was  captivated  by  her,  his  gaze  devouring  all  that  it  could,  but  her  questions  made  him  look  inward.  The  emptiness  he  found  made  the  vampire  lower  his  gaze,  hoping  she  wouldn't  look  close  enough  to  find  it,  too.  He  suspected  that  he  had  already  given  himself  away  and  —   persuaded  to  look  upon  her  again  —  Astarion  saw  it  in  her  eyes  before  the  words  even  escaped  her  lips.  Being  seen  like  this,  so  vulnerable,  would've  been  uncomfortable  if  it  weren't  for  Ahri  urging  him  to  embrace  his  hunger.  Instead  of  extinguishing  the  delicate  flame  she  had  found,  she  fanned  it.  The  chains  that  shackeled  the  hungry  creature  within  him  came  undone. 

His  fingers  wrapped  themselves  around  her  wrist  and  he  gently  pressed  her  hand  against  his  lips.  He  opened  them  to  nudge  his  tongue  against  the  tip  of  her  finger,  to  get  a  first  taste  of  her.  As  he  did  his  breath  quaked  in  anticipation.  Astarion  would've  taken  his  time,  would've  devoured  her  slowly,  but  what  had  been  abtract  a  moment  ago  wasn't  any  longer,  the  taste  of  her  skin  alone  a  thing  to  be  driven  mad  about. 

Her  hand  brushed  away  with  a  flick  of  his  own,  the  pale  elf  reached  to  the  back  of  her  head.  His  slender  fingers  slid  into  her  dark  hair,  locking  strands  of  it  between  them.  Like  one  would  with  a  puppet  on  a  string,  he  manouvered  her  head  by  gently  tugging  at  a  strand  of  hair.  As  much  as  he  was  predator,  he  was  hedonist  and  now  that  he  had  made  her  expose  her  neck,  he  spent  a  moment  to  relish  in  the  vulnerable  beauty  of  it.  And  when  his  eyes  found  what  looked  like  the  perfect  patch  of  skin,  the  pulse  behind  it  making  his  mouth  water,  Astarion  lowered  his  mouth  onto  it. 

Fangs  broke  skin  immediately.  He  had  wanted  to  taste  her  the  moment  he  had  layed  eyes  on  her,  had  wondered  how  he  would  like  it,  but  nothing  of  what  he  had  imagined  could've  prepared  him.  Nothing  could've  come  close,  because  there  was  nothing  to  compare  it  to.  She  was  divine  and  he  tasted  it  with  every  drop  of  her  blood.  Astarion  leaned  in  further,  his  other  hand  finding  its'  way  to  her  back,  pressing  Ahri's  small  figure  against  his  chest.  He  had  never  tasted  anything  like  it.  He  didn't  think  anyone  had  ever  tasted  anything  like  it  and  he  wanted  more,  more,  more.

Feeling  himself  get  lost  in  her  wild  nature,  as  if  lost  in  this  forest,  he  managed  to  stop  himself  one  step  before  control  slipped  away  from  him.  A  part  of  him  wanted  to  get  lost.  But  gasping  as  if  breaking  water  to  take  a  breath,  he  withdrew  his  mouth.  His  grasp  on  her  got  light  again.  The  aftetaste  of  honey  on  his  lips,  he  looked  at  her  accusatory  and  curious  all  at  once,  the  corners  of  his  bloodstained  mouth  lifted  into  a  charming  smirk.  ❝  I  somehow  feel  compelled  to  grant  you  your  every  wish,  ❞  although  not  asking  a  question,  he  inquired  curiously  as  he  traced  the  bite  marks  on  her  neck  as  if  pointing  out  the  answer  to  a  question  he  hadn't  even  asked,  yet.   ❝  I  wonder  why  that  is.  ❞  The  mischief  in  his  wandering  eyes  gave  away  that  he  had  a  suspicion  as  they  came  to  rest  on  her  golden  eyes. 

[onlyfngs]

⸻ .✦ 𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 for @unknownfaed

𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟎 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧. Something deep inside him knew that he was connected to these lands. That's what had drawn him here. He'd had enough of not knowing where he came from and wanted to fill in the gaps. There had to be more to him than his curse and the years of torment he had spent under his vampiric master. He didn't have the right to claim every piece of Astarion. 

The border of the Spring Court several days behind him, he had crossed much of the area. He had also avoided the village, unsure about other Fae. In his mind he had stuck to the shadows, which seemed to cling to him even more ever since he had set foot into Prythian, because he didn't trust anybody. But in reality, he was also afraid to find answers. There was comfort in ignorance. If he wasn't aware of the bad, it couldn't hurt him, right? 

He had come across some Faeries and didn't mind those. Sometimes they didn't even seem to notice him. And if they did, he never had any encounters that were anything other than curious. Used to life on the road, he was adept at finding spaces to rest. The stitches of his fine, embroidered clothing were coming off here and there and he had made some temporary repairs to ripped fabric. At first glance he could've passed as Fae nobility, but a keen eye would not miss all the little details that exposed him as the rogue he was. None of what he wore was bought, much was stolen. 

As golden hour began, he decided he had traveled enough for the day. Since there was some unexplainable familiarity that connected him to this realm, he learned how to navigate it quickly. Knowing that following the tune of nixies would lead him to water, he did just that to fill his waterskin. Not expecting anything worse than maybe the mischiefous bite of a nixie he filled it at a pond. But then, as he crouched at the edge of the water, his head turned quickly.

Astarion had assumed that the High Fae kept to themselves in the village and naively hoped that he didn't need to look over his shoulder for them. But she was definitely not faerie. While he slowly got up, he felt torn between wanting to walk away  and to stay. ❝ Oh, hello there, ❞ he put on his usual, charming facade and hid how skeptic he felt about meeting somebody, however beautiful that somebody may be, in the middle of an unknown forest. ❝ What a delightful coincidence. ❞ 

The longer he looked at her, the more she seemed to belong. Like she was part of this land. And that made it all the more obvious to him that he didn't. 

[dopplgaenger]

↪  𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ  @onlyfngs calls cami out: ❝ stop looking at me like that ❞

SHE  DIDN’T  FLINCH  WHEN  HE  MENTONED  IT.  Camille  didn’t  even  scramble  for  an  excuse  or  pretended  that  she  hadn’t  been  doing  exactly  what  Astarion  accused  her  of.  Instead,  she  only  tilted  her  head  slightly,  slender fingers  curled  around  the  rough  fabric  of  her  cloak,  as  if  weighing  the  words  that  never  made  it  past  her  lips.  Maybe  she  should  look  away,  let  the  moment  pass  without  challenge,  but  she  didn’t.

Instead,  she  studied  him  like  a  puzzle  with  missing  pieces,  as  if  the  right  angle  might  finally  make  sense  of  the  jagged  edges  he  kept  so  carefully  concealed.  He  looked  fine.  Smug,  even,  in  the  way  he  always  did,  posture  draped  in  something  almost  too  practiced  to  be  effortless.  And  yet,  she  saw  it;  the  exhaustion  hidden  beneath  sharp  retorts,  the  subtle  rigidity  in  his  shoulders,  the  way  the  firelight  caught  in  his  eyes  and  made  them  burn  with  something  unreadable.

“ And  how  exactly  am  I  looking  at  you? ”,  the  sorceress  mused after a while,  voice  silk-soft,  threaded  with  the  faintest  note  of  mischief.

[onlyfngs]

𝐔𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞. He rested his hand on his hip and shifted his weight onto one leg, looking at her with a sneer of annoyance. Of course he was responsible for the dynamic of banter they had established. On any other day he would've responded to her soft provocation with fervor, but right now he didn't appreciate the sass.

❝ Like the objections I have aren't logical, ❞ he answered her question. While he would've loved to stare her down to further drive his point home, there was a uncertainty in his eyes that gave away the slither of doubt he had. The pillars on which his convictions had been build were crumbling in the face of kindness, generosity and altruism. His companions kept chipping away at at them day by day, but Astarion didn't see clearly enough to be able to admit that. ❝ Now that we've saved these people, do you think they'll ever return the favour? ❞

He relaxed his posture a little and let his gaze drift over the people who were celebrating the victory of surviving another day. Their companions were among them. Standing at the edge of the camp, watching all of it, made him speak up again instead of giving Camille a moment to respond to his question. ❝ I'm not interested in saving this world if I'm not going to be alive to enjoy it. ❞

They had undoubtedly made their tasks harder when accepting the responsibility to help. Despite the general atmosphere of joy and relief, nobody could hide the cracks in their masks. Because in truth, their problem seemed to only grow worse the more they learned. 

[icecreamwithjackdaniels]

Eduard Hildebrandt (German, 1818–1868), "Stormy Breakers" (details)

[vikasgarden-a]

Joy filled her veins. Normally, Vika was left alone during a storm. Normally, people didn't like getting wet and cold while nature did its work. But today she could share the joy of watching a storm in the front row. She didn't care if Astarion was telling the truth, that he had never been in a storm and observed its beauty. It was all about enjoying this situation together. He could have said he had done this a hundred times, and Vika would still have enjoyed his company. 

She laughed at his story, jumped into a puddle with joy and followed him to the temple. She didn't feel the cold of the rain and simply brushed her hair out of her face as the rain washed down her face. It only took seconds before she was soaked to the bone. Astarion's fear that the storm would stop was fortunately unfounded. The rain let up a little, but it had no intention of stopping altogether. Perhaps Mother Nature simply knew that they both wanted to enjoy this moment. That people wanted to stay a little longer in their sheltered, dry and, above all, warm homes.

She climbed up the ladder as nimbly as a squirrel, though she kept checking on Astarion to see if he could keep up with her. What they were doing felt a little forbidden, but that was what made it so appealing.

He had said that the clerics here were usually friendly, but who knew how they would react if Vika and Astarion were discovered. Perhaps it could be dismissed as a prank. Or maybe they could convince the clerics that they were just a pair of lovers looking for a place to hide. Either way, these thoughts and little scenarios she played out in her head helped make the walk up the ladder seem like seconds when she was finally able to leave.

Vika had never seen the inside of a bell tower before. She realized this when her gaze fell on the huge bell that seemed to be the centerpiece. Her eyes widened as she looked at the metal. Whoever had designed it had put a lot of time and love into the details. A few pictures on the bell seemed to tell a story that Vika unfortunately couldn't understand, and it showed slight signs of wear from years of use and weather. For although they were better protected up here than on the street, huge windows from floor to “ceiling” ensured that the echo of the bell could be heard for miles. The bell was so heavy that Vika's gentle touch barely touched it, and so cold from the wind, which seemed to blow harder up here than down below, that she only took a few seconds to trace the fine work in the metal of the bell with her fingers. 

Then she pulled her hand away again and turned to Astarion. “I think you meant the view of the world, which is supposed to be beautiful, but the bell is beautiful too.” Since that one large bell had immediately caught her eye, Vika had wasted little time looking around. She let her gaze wander curiously, unable to resist running her fingers over the rough stone walls. Finally, she stopped at one of the windows. It had no glass, of course, and the wind was blowing some rain in her face, but that didn't stop her from letting her gaze wander. First she looked down. They had climbed up a few meters, but Vika wasn't afraid of heights and looked back at the ground in fascination before gazing over the temple and then into the distance. 

She could see the market square they had just crossed, past a few trees and some houses where the light seemed so far away. Was this the tavern they had been sitting in? She didn't know. From up here and with what little light the storm had to offer, she wouldn't have been able to tell. “You came here on purpose. How often do you bring strangers here?” Her tone and words were playful, and yet for a tiny moment the thought crossed her mind if bringing women to such a beautiful place was Astarion's bread and butter. Somehow he had to know why the clerics here were mostly of a peaceful nature. But really, she was just teasing him a little. “It's beautiful here.” Her voice softened as she said those words, and she gave him a smile. “Tell me something about this region. Pretend I don't know anything. Where can I discover forgotten treasures? Where shouldn't I go? Do you have a favorite spot in the area? Where can I have the best adventures?”

[onlyfngs]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. Not just inside this bell tower, but in this town. Astarion's home and destination was the metropolis of Baldur's Gate and he was only passing through. But if you've experienced one, you've experienced them all, right? And he had spent more than two hundred years in the most bustling city on the coast, had soaked in more culture than many people in these charming little towns could only dream of. He'd be home soon. Just a few more days on the road. 

He had found himself a spot under one of the arches, his feet dangling down the edge of the tower. Vika's playful accusatory words made him curl his lips into a smirk. Techniqually, he was innocent of her accusation because he had never even visited this location himself, but of course he had lead people to beautiful places such as this one many times. Looking back over his shoulder, he admitted to his behaviour with a mischievous shrug, not giving her an answer of how often he had done it before, but insinuating enough. 

❝ Where shouldn't you go? ❞ he repeated humorously. Astarion couldn't imagine that he held herself to the standards of common folk. She probably wouldn't have caught his interest if he had perceived Vika as mundane. ❝ Nowhere is off limits if you're slippery enough. And you can have it all if you're willing to take it. ❞ 

His gaze turned west and although he of course couldn't see it, he imagined the tall buildings and towers of Baldur's Gate on the horizon. As his thoughts traveled home, too, he spent a moment to evaluate all the things waiting for him there. Everything, to be taken. Or to be given up on. The decision he would have to make was so enormous, he didn't enjoy the anxiety of thinking about it and shifted his eyes away again. As he found Vika's, the contemplative glaze in them vanished and he returned to his carefree, confident self. ❝ I'm going to Baldur's Gate. If it's adventure you want, join me. I would enjoy the company. ❞

There was no way of knowing how capable of a companion she was. And if she was up to the task of traveling with him, because trouble would surely follow. Did he care as long as her company was as enjoyable as this evening? Not at all. ❝ I'm planning to avoid the roads anyway. Maybe we'll find crumbling ruins on the way or a forest full of tricksy little pixies. ❞ It wasn't just this area that was full of magic and miracles, but this world. Everything was possible and as dangerous as that was, he liked the thrill of it.