This is the last drawing of the summer because I am melting and if I have to put my hands on the warm screen of my graphic tablet ONE MORE TIME, I will die. 😂 (wait until my self control gets the better of me.....)
Thank you for the tag @missfortunetherogue 🫶 (and thank you @wild-surge for the original prompt :3)
Soflty tagging in turn @burnt-by-marigolds, @litsenn, @riddlerosehearts, @rivereverie, @ranger-jahen and @lilhumanoid, if you want :3 If you have done it already please forgive the tag and drop my a link instead because I would love to see 🩶
There are many myths around The Wild Hunt in the Forgotten Realms, and I really wanted to go with that. Also because this allows me to have Storm and Natavriel be part of the same redesign hehehehe :3 :3
I tried doing a summup of everything I took inspo from/everything I left out, how it relates to the actual Wild Hunt of the Forgotten Realms, but it looks like brain too tired for that. Summer is killing me. So hum…. Have my own version of the Hunt, very liberally inspired by some tales of the various Wild Hunts (Forgotten Realms or not), and I'm mostly just doing what I want lmao.
Natavriel is already a pixie at heart, and Storm is more archfey adjacent than tiefling here, just roll with it, yeah? It ain't a redesign for nothing x) Also : cool glowy horse :3 And of course Storm would be riding bridleless, totally his vibe. Hesitated making him a centaur instead, but I actually liked this version more.
You run through the dense lines of trees as your heart gathers in your throat, both from fear and exhaustion. You have been running for hours. But the deathly rings of the hunting horns at your back keep you going.
You shouldn't have beaten the ox yesterday, you know that. But is it your fault, really, if the damned beast refuses to obey? If anything, you should have killed it for meat. At least would have gotten a good price out of that.
Maybe it isn't the ox, then. Maybe it was the kid, from a few years ago. Or the girls of your youth? Or even the forest you've ordered razed. No other choice, how are you to expand the town, if the forest stays?
The wolves have already been put to death, in preparation for the work, and the only thing that remain is the she-bear living there that still eludes you.
If it didn't you wouldn't be running between the trees, because they would be gone already.
You only have to make it out of the forest, back to the town, back to your house. The Hunt never goes indoor. Then again, the Hunt should not hunt for so little a crime as beating disobeying cattle. Do they?
It's the druids' doing, it must be. The stupid druids that have gotten in your way at every step when you tried to better the town have summoned demons from Faerie to hunt you down.
A light between the trees beckons you. Safety? Yes, somehow you know it in your heart, at last, you have reached safety.
You follow it, further, and further, until the undergrowth of the damned forest is reaching your knees, then your thighs, and still you venture deeper, because you know, you know, there is safety there. But the vines uncoil from the bark of the trees around, and before long, they are grasping at your ankles, and running becomes impossible.
But the light is getting closer, and closer, you kick at the vines as best you can, and you keep going.
Until there are more vines than you can fight off, and you fall of the forest bed, the layer of ferns not enough to absorb the shock. And the light, infuriatingly, comes to you on its own.
It's a pixie. A gods damned pixie.
"Oh no!" the little thing giggles, flying over your head as the vines close on you. "What happened to you, did you fall? I'm so sorry!"
You growl and snarl at it, too frightened and too angry for words.
It lands on your forehead, looking down at you with falsely innocent eyes. You could almost crush it with one fist, hear its bones crack, destroy those pretty glowing wings in one motion, you think. If only you were not tied to the ground by those blasted vines.
It cocks its head at you, all flowing curls of red hair and motes of blinding light.
Then it simply flies away, leaving you helpless and terrified.
You do not see it, but deep into the woods, the pixie hovers in front of their beloved hunter, and no words are needed between them for him to know where he needs to lead the Hunt.
The ghostly processions of horsemen, hounds, and other faes puts itself in motion with a horrifying sort of calm, and when they stop in front of you some time later, you can finally see the truth.
You are not in the forest. You never were in the forest. You are in the Central Square of your town, you have been running through streets of cobblestone, and the vines that keep you chained to the ground exist only in your thoughts. The pixie has tricked you, body and mind.
But before you can even attempt getting up, the spear of the hunter finds your heart and you simply lay there, gasping for a breath that will never come again.
In the haze that comes with the escaping of your life, you see the pixie land on the hunter's shoulder, and you could swear, it places a kiss on his forehead. Then the night swallows you, and you do not see the smile that softens the hunter's face.
At dawn, every soul in this town will know.
The forest of this land has its protectors, and no one harms the innocents there, be it beasts or children, without paying the price for it.
The wrath of the world has caught up with you, the Hunt has been summoned, and tonight, it has found its prey.
Maybe one day I'll edit this properly, but not today. Hope you enjoyed this mini thing anyway, in its rough state xD I have been drawing/writing this to procrastinate on 1) the happy ending pride one shot, and 2)the next chapter of Hope over Power. I regret nothing :3
Thank you for the wip tags (uno-reverse or otherwise) @missfortunetherogue, @spillingteanotpermitted, @burnt-by-marigolds, @optimisticgrey (hope I'm not forgetting anyone 🩶)
I'm having a really weird time lately, so instead of writing new stuff like I should, I'm editing the worst Astarion angst I've ever written. Weird ways to cope, what can I say. Heres' the very beginning of the chapter.
CW for Astarion's worst canon memory, in case anyone is not in the mood to read that 😬 sorry 🫂 I promise in context it's not gratuitous pain lol
Gently tagging all of you in return if you wish to share, as well as @litsenn, @et-augury, @wasteful-sam and @lilhumanoid :3
In the beginning, there had been nothing but the sarcophagus around him, darkness, silence and hunger his sole bedfellows, the stone slate that had sealed him inside heavy and unflinching.
He had still broken his nails and bloodied his fingers against it. And the stone had started moving. Inch by inch. It had been hard work, but the fierce desire to get out of this dark, quiet, confined space had kept him going through the burning pain in his hands.
Hours had passed, time as relentless as his efforts to set himself free of his prison. Days. Tendays, maybe. Months?
The stone had kept moving, little by little, and even his growing exhaustion had not hindered his endeavour. When one single hand had been able to slot between the sarcophagus' side and the corner of the stone slate, he had cried from the relief. And he had kept working, pushing his body to its limit.
Because in the beginning, there had been hope.
His hand had slid in the small gap his efforts had managed to produce, and helped by the solid block of stone at his back, he had pushed the stone, again, and again.
More hours.
More days.
But the stone had moved, enough that he could eventually squeeze his whole body through the gap, and land on a hard stone floor, exhausted. But free. Except he had been greeted by nothing more than absolute darkness, still, and more of that oppressive silence —the only noises that of his pathetic pleading when he had crawled to the walls blindly and found them sealed.
Surely someone would hear him beg, now that he was out of the stone coffin. Surely the test had been passed successfully. The punishment for kindness, exacted.
But no one came, and the clawing pain of hunger remained his only company.
The sweet young face of the darling boy he had tried to save floated in his mind, every now and then, and his hatred grew. Never again would he fall for these kinds, he swore to himself. The tears he had shed while he'd been compelled to beat that young man to death now seemed futile. Those tears belonged to him. To him. Why should he cry for the pain of others, when no one ever cried for him? When the only reward he ever got for those tears was agony?
He broke what was left of his fingers against the door of the tomb, uselessly.
Thank you very much @optimisticgrey, @spillingteanotpermitted and @missfortunetherogue for the kind tags 🩶
I did tease one of Storm's one shot with Gale, and... yes, it's going to be heartbreaking. But here's a sneak peak anyway <3 Back into angst territory, as the gods intended.
This is right after Elminster delivers Mystra's orders and Gale is mentally preparing to off himself in the near future. 😢 This is a rewrite of that in game conversation and, believe it or not, the beginning of their friendship x) Storm makes friends in odd ways, okay? aka. Having a suicide talk with the guy you almost chopped a hand off. Totally normal way to make friends.
Obv CW for talks of suicide. And also general vibes of self-hatred. Proceed accordingly
"Tav said it wasn't really Elminster."
"Aha! Keen observation. Yes, they are correct, indeed, this was a simulacrum."
Gale's eyes sparked when Storm said nothing and simply raised an inquisitive eyebrow for him to elaborate.
"It is a very complex spell. Very expensive too, mind you. A spell with which an experienced enough mage can create a duplicate of oneself. Or of any creature, truly, so long as they have any and all required materials at their disposal, the time to cast the incantation, and sufficient skills to sustain the spell in the first place."
"So the greatest wizard in the realms is acting as mail man to order you to kill yourself, and he does not even come in person?"
Gale winced ever so slightly, but otherwise gave no indication that he wished for the conversation to be over. "Well, you see," he said, staying on the topic of magic, rather than that of his fateful end, "the duplicate is essentially a perfect copy of the creature at the time of casting. A construct that retains memories, knowledge, power, and even feelings to a certain degree. For all intent and purposes, this was Elminster."
"Was it or was it not? Make up your mind."
"It was. And it… wasn't."
Sometimes, Gale proved endlessly frustrating. But magical semantics were not the reason he had come to seek the wizard's company, so Storm let the matter drop.
"You're not afraid?" he asked instead.
"I—" Gale laughed, surprisingly. "Of course I'm afraid. But if there were any other ways, I am most certain the greatest wizard of the Realms and the Goddess of Magic would have provided us with them."
"So you really are on a suicide mission."
"Possibly the most spectacular one ever conceived, but essentially, yes. I'm living on borrowed time, in more ways than one. Perhaps… Perhaps this is how it must be. But that remains ahead of us for now. The Heart of the Absolute must be discovered before I can stop its beating."
"Mh."
They stayed sitting side by side, surrounded by darkness, while Storm worked out the real purpose of his presence here. The words came more easily than he had thought they would.
"I want to be there. When you do it."
Gale's head whipped towards him, his eyes incredulous. "You…" He cleared his throat. "You are aware of what you are asking of me, are you not? If you come with me, you will die."
"Yes. That would be the point."
The heavy silence of Shar's curse stretched for a moment, the muffled sounds of the others settling in camp for the evening barely reaching them, despite being in clear line of sight. Before Gale finally breathed a single word.
"Why?"
"Gale. I nearly killed you when we met. I almost killed Astarion, too, that same day. I would have killed Alfira, had Tav not been there. I killed that poor other bard. ...Quil," he forced the name out. "And… the Zhents, before that."
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, the cold air of the curse chilling his lungs in an almost pleasant way. He wished Tav were feeling better, so that their singing could have been overheard in the distance. Surely that would have settled his heart.
"I lose control when we are in battle," he kept going when the only noise coming from the camp below were the sound of Shadowheart bickering with Lae'zel instead of music, their voices too distant to make out words. "My mind always wishes for bloodshed, and it takes all my strength to stop it."
His fingers absentmindedly went to toy with his index ring while he searched his mind for better words to convey what he was trying to say.
"I am a rabid beast," he said quietly. "The only thing to do, when a dog goes mad, is to put it down."
Softly tagging @et-augury, @play-me-a-durge, @litsenn, @burnt-by-marigolds, and whoever else might want a tag 🩶
This is a fantastic way to get out of the angst :3 Thank you @missfortunetherogue for the tag!!
Extending that no pressure tag to @burnt-by-marigolds, @riddlerosehearts, @bladesingerlily, @r3drozebud, @optimisticgrey, @lilhumanoid, @et-augury, @lottavilja, @ranger-jahen and @litsenn, if you want :3
Prompt : Share something joyful or fun, to counterbalance Make them beg Monday full of angsty snippets :p
I'm sharing a very very happy scene, a couple of years into the future haha, that I drafted a while ago. I have no idea if this is going to stay as is because this is a lot of exploration of what could happen on my part, and that second part of my fic is being entirely restructured right now anyway. This is a mostly unedited first draft, but this is the option Tav and Astarion find for him to be able to go out during the day (years before the Here Comes the Sun story). Nothing complicated, it already has enough limitations that I still find this way interesting, at least for now.
It's a bit long, so it goes under the cut!
He tested the span of his wings, pure white feathers extending in his peripheral vision. How did this work? He would probably know on instinct. Right?
Dust swept around him as he flapped his wings with purpose. It took him a few tries, but he did manage to take off the floor and into the air. So light, he was so light! Somewhere in his vicinity, Tav extended an arm for him, and he somehow managed to land there on the first try, fighting for balance as he folded his wings clumsily.
He pecked at the shiny golden rings on Tav's fingers.
"How do you feel?"
He croaked at them. He'd meant to say 'good', but of course, he couldn't speak in this form. He shrugged. And his wings flapped weirdly in response, almost sending him tumbling from Tav's arm.
Tav chuckled. "I'll take that as a positive. Let me change my jacket and put something in my hair, then we can try to head out carefully. I have no idea if this works."
It was a strange experience, to be so small. He flew around the house to get used to the wings while Tav took their sweet time getting ready, and narrowly avoided Mirror jumping for him on his way to Tav's bedroom. He landed on the bedhead, wary of any cat claws that could follow him. Maybe picking the bird form hadn't been the smartest choice. Movement on his periphery distracted him, and turned to croak at the source of it.
A raven stared back at him from the looking glass of Tav's vanity. Red eyes. White feathers.
He cocked his head, and the raven followed. Yes. This was him. Well. Almost. He hoped closer, flapping his wings to get on the vanity, and poked at the mirror with his beak.
"Hey! Caref— Oh."
He was real. If there had ever any doubts of it, he was real. He stayed there way too long, staring at the reflection that wasn't his body, but still belonged to him.
"Love," Tav whispered.
With another croak, he tore himself away from the image in the mirror, and flew on their shoulder. Or tried to. He miscalculated, and Tav caught him before he could meet the floor, their hands gentle. He hopped out of their embrace, this time landing perfectly on their head, and poked their scalp softly.
"Ow. Oww!"
Well. Maybe not that softly.
"Stop it!"
But he wouldn't. Couldn't. He jumped on their shoulder, pecking at their cheek, then took flight again to circle around the room excitedly, croaking his enthusiasm a few more times for good measure. This was working. This was working. If mirrors were no longer forbidden to him, then surely the sun would be allowed, too.
Tav beamed at him, then laughed when he didn't take into account his wingspan while trying to get out of the room and crashed into the doorframe. Right. This was going to need some getting used to. He was up in an instant, his wing barely bruised, and flew to the window of the reading nook, the one that had heavy curtains instead of outside shutters.
"Astarion, be careful! I don't know if... It might not work!"
But he was already tugging at the curtain with his beak, and a few contortions and frantic wing flapping later, the window was unobstructed. And Astarion remained blissfully unscathed, white feathers glowing in the light of day.
"Oh," said Tav, for the second time.
Out. He needed to get out of the house, now. Tav was not ready. He didn't care. He hovered around them, landing in their hair to poke at their scalp again, his tiny raven heart beating wildly.
His… heart? His heart. He had a heart. And the hunger was gone. The yawning pit of emptiness that he barely noticed anymore was nowhere to be found. Because this animal form was not him. This body was a borrowed, fabricated one, born from Tav's mind, and it was alive. He flapped his wings on Tav's head, tangling the loose curls they'd been attempting to tame all over again, and croaked before landing in front of the door. He pecked at the wood impatiently.
"Yes, I'm coming. Hang on, let me—"
His pecking became more insistent. He only had an hour of this. He needed to get out. Now.
"Alright, alright, yes. I understand."
Tav opened the door, finally.
He took to the air immediately, not taking so much as a second to look behind. He heard Tav yell at him to be careful because he had only an hour. He knew. Gods. He knew. He didn't need a reminder.
And he was always careful, really, what were they worrying about?
He flew over the roofs of their neighbourhood, taking in the sight of the Lower City in the daylight. The sun warmed him better than the beating of life in his tiny chest could. This felt so much better than the echo of warmth he could get during reveries. He soared high above the buildings, then higher, and higher, until the passersby became nothing more than tiny dark spots on the cobblestones. Baldur's Gate spread below him, the city enormous and yet so small, seen from this high up. In the distance, the Chionthar was gleaming, little diamonds of light dancing on the water.
The air grew colder as he gained altitude, and the early summer sun wasn't quite enough to warm his little body. But he didn't care. The wind was so strong up there, he had to fight against it. It felt glorious.
He croaked at the world, and upon spotting a small group of birds, joined them. Swallows, not ravens, but they seemed to accept his superior form without complaints. He studied the pattern of their flight, working hard to match it. The roof he landed on when his newly acquired wings finally grew tired was overlooking the Chionthar.
He had flown fast, it usually took him at least half an hour to reach the water when he walked there from Tav's house. His house. But it couldn't have been more than a handful of minutes since he had left Tav. Could it?
The sparkling water below robbed his attention, the question of time all but forgotten in the beauty. He glided down from the roof he had perched himself on, and tested the water with the tip of one wing as he hovered over the river. The feathers went through, and did not burn. Running water was once more harmless to him. Beneath him, his reflection was blurred and wobbling on the moving water. But it was there. It was there.
What more could he try? Could he get into houses without invitation, too? Oh, this was going to be fun.
His first thought was Jaheira's house. But upon flying there, he remembered he had been here before, and had already been invited inside, so the experiment would be moot. This bird body was nice, but its brain wasn't the best at remembering complicated things. Everything was very… immediate.
He landed on an open window anyway, and made a show of flicking his feathers. No one noticed him.
Inside, Jaheira was playing wooden swords with one of her kids. The one that was always hitting dummies no the porch. His normal self already had trouble remembering their names, it was way too much to ask out of this form. Astarion flew inside the house, and landed on top of one of the cupboards.
"Oh?" was all Jaheira said, but the momentary distraction was enough for the kid to land a blow on her.
"You're getting old, Commander!" said the kid. "Too slow!"
Astarion meant to laugh at Jaheira, but all he could do was croak.
"Amicus animale!" came the incantation. Jaheira looked up at him, all business in her attitude. "What are you doing here, friend? Do you have a message for me?"
"No. I am laughing at you, is what I am doing here. Old woman. And I could understand you before. No need for this, really."
"Astarion?!"
He hopped down form the wardrobe and glided to perch on the back of a chair. "Yes. That's my name!"
Jaheira stared at him. Then burst out laughing.
"Well! This is new. But clever, heh, I should have expected this from Tav."
Tav. Hells. He had left them behind without a second thought. How long had it been? Surely less than an hour. Would he know if the spell was about to drop? He needed to get back.
"Say hi to them for me, will you? You two should visit, one of those days. Or, one of those nights, I suppose. If your heroic self is not too busy, of cour—"
"I have to go."
"Oh? Alright. If you—"
"I'll come back. Maybe. Bye!"
Then more shennannigans ensue, but this is already long haha
I honestly cannot wait for Astarion to be able to be a silly chaos gremlin again haha, as much as I love angst, I want the happiness too. Also his thought pattern here is... a bit odd at times because he's a bird, and his sharp edges aren't that sharp there xD I hope he's still Astarion enough :3
Whew. Been a while since I wipped xD I'm sorry guys for being so inconsistent, it's definitely not going to get better now that I am working full time again ^^
Thank you so much to everyone who tagged me in the past month, please accept a uno reverse tag, @litsenn, @optimisticgrey, @scoldingdarjeeling, @riddlerosehearts, @missfortunetherogue, @wild-surge, @lucretiouswept, @bladesingerlily 🫶 Also tagging @burnt-by-marigolds, @lilhumanoid, @coincoin-zinzin, @heartcrystal2000 and @the-starflower if and whenever you want to share something :3
Here's some more Storm and Natavriel bonding, three days into the journey, because I've been working on the epilogue to A Name is a Powerful Thing. As always with early game, Storm isn't talking much ^^ He's trying, alright? Being brain-damaged Durge is not easy x)
A peek through half open flaps let them know that Storm was resting, but still awake. They tapped two fingers against the fabric to announce their arrival.
"Hey," they greeted him softly when he sat up. "Can I sit with you?"
He nodded slowly, and they joined him on the floor of the entrance, sitting cross-legged by his side on the old rug they'd found abandoned somewhere in the Grove, and claimed for him to use.
"I have a gift for you. Well, two gifts, really."
The first one of these gifts had been loosely hanging on their thumb, and they took it off to present it to him flat on their palm. A ring, made from the one he had picked from their stash, that first night.
Rather than removing the stone from the original ring and having to embed it in a new one, Tav had simply cut out part of the gold before resizing the ring with silver —matching Storm's existing jewellery. The barest hint of gold still surrounded the inlaid blue stone, before melting away in the silver, the mingling of the two metal forming elegant swirls along the smooth surface.
Between the dimness of his resting space, and the beard still obscuring half his face, Storm's half-smile was barely visible. Tav still answered it with one of their own when he picked up their gift.
He tried it on each of his jewellery-free fingers, flexing his hands with a frown that grew a little deeper each time. The ring escaped his clumsy fingers on three separate occasions, and Tav caught it just before it rolled out of the tent, handing it back to him silently. His balance had seemed to improve slightly over the past few days, but most of the finer motions still proved difficult. As long as he didn't ask for help or wasn't at risk of hurting himself, though, Tav was intent on letting him do most things on his own.
"I can resize it again if it doesn't fit anywhere."
A subtle shaking of his head answered their offer. Clearly, this was not the problem.
Storm then removed one of his own already present rings before replacing it with the one Tav had just given him back for the third time. He flexed his hand once more, nodded, ran his thumb over the stone, and looked back at Tav with a hint of a smile back on his face. They couldn't help but glance at his own ring, now abandoned on the floor of his tent.
"You don't have to wear this one if you'd prefer to keep your own, you know."
Another shaking of head, and Storm held their gaze intently, the way he sometimes did when he wanted to say something and struggled to do so.
"I keep… that one." He ran his thumb over the smooth stone again. "Thank you."
So often these past three days, he had battled with his words for no other reasons than to offer thanks and appreciation, when most of the people having no trouble speaking voiced demands and expectations instead. On the first night, when the first complete sentence to cross his lips had been a sassy retort to their teasing observation that he didn't speak much, Tav had thought —very reasonably— that they might very well be willing to die for this man.
Anyone putting this much energy into humour, when the day had offered nothing but pain and fear before that point, was someone they wanted to protect at all cost.
I will make no promises as to when I'll publish that chapter ^^ "Eventually" is my ETA xD
So, after getting a lovely comment from @r3drozebud on one of my fics, I've been wanting to elaborate on exactly what the hell is going on between my main trio (I say 'main' because I have the Karlach/Shadowheart/Halsin trouple that I've talked about a few times but this post isn't for them haha). Initially I just wanted to talk about the Tav/Storm/Astarion situation, but after seeing @ranger-jahen's wonderful post about all the companions in-game flirtations and how they work in Jahen's canon, I couldn't resist elaborating on many of the others, and what happened with Tav (or Storm too haha, writing this I realised that he somehow was the most likely candidate to receive propositions from many of them, lol).
Soo, yeah, wall of text of headcanon below the cut :3 Feel free to read only the companions that interest you :3
The Tav/Astarion/Storm discussion is at the end so if that's the only thing you wanna read you can skip there <3
So, to put it very simply, Tav is friends with people. Storm and Astarion included. There's no romance there. But it is a little bit more nuanced than that in the sense that the kind of love they hold for the companions differs a lot depending on who we're talking about. So let's get the other companions out of the way first.
Gale
Gale had a little crush situation going on with Tav, just like with Jahen. I actually shared a wip about Astarion remembering that moment a while ago, which I'm just gonna paste here :3
I think what really happened on Gale's side is that : Tav is a very "touch as a primary (platonic) love language" kind of person, unless it bothers people. It does have a tendency to be confusing for some people. And Gale was very surprised at being treated with such warmth and friendliness from someone he barely knew. Given the kind of yearning Gale is prone to, I think this would have sparked the crush fairly early in game. Mechanically, what's happening there is that during the first Weave scene, Tav would absolutely be the type to pick the "picture a walk hand in hand" option and then actually take Gale's hand, but absolutely doesn't mean this in a romantic way.
Tav completely panicked when Gale misunderstood, and that made things worse than they needed to be x) They worked it out, eventually, and they are still close friend, post-game. But it took a bit of time and effort to mend the friendship and rebuild trust on both sides. Tav and Gale are friends in the most easily understandable way possible, now, and even after they work out the misunderstanding and Gale gets over his crush, Tav is very careful to keep their friendship in the non physical realm xD
I've said once that Gale and Storm might have worked something out if Astarion hadn't been there, and I still think it's true. They bonded over very heavy topics in act II, and the friendship that resulted from that might have evolved into something else, if neither Astarion, nor Tav, nor Lae'zel (with whom Gale is involved at this point) had been here. Ultimately I don't think they are very compatible though, and the current post game situation would have been a complete disaster for Gale. I'm not sure why, exactly, but Gale does not strike me as someone who would deal with grief in any kind of reasonable way (if there even is a reasonnable way)... Where Astarion goes ANGER!!!!😡😡😡, I think Gale would go : self-destruction x) Anyway. Not happening.
Lae'zel
She thankfully did not offer a night to Tav, mostly because Tav is speaking to Lae'zel only if they absolutely need something from her, at the time of the tiefling party. Not that there was much attraction on Lae'zel's part either anyway x) The mutual respect came much much later haha.
She might have offered to Storm, though, if he had been present during the party. After the nautiloid she considered him weak because all she saw was him going in full shutdown and being completely unable to fight. Later she considered him dangerous and powerful, but not in a good way. Too chaotic and unpredictable. BUT, she's still a bit turned on by the bloodshed while they're together on the battlefield 🤣 In a purely physical way ofc. He might have said yes, because he would think that if he ever lost control while being with her, she would kill him. So that would have been a safety net for him xD But since Storm ran away from the people at the party, there was no chance for anything to happen.
And later she's involved with Gale, so there was no subsequent opportunity for drama.
Shadowheart
She did share wine with Tav at the party, but in a very gossipy kind of way. There's absolutely no attraction there, on either side, and the friendship they share initially is a bit surface level. They have a polite kind of friendship hahaha (at first)
Shadowheart, at this point, has two crushes. Mainly : Karlach. And then : Storm xDDD Storm is compleeetely oblivious to it, and she will never tell him haha (I think I never talked about this, btw, I hope this does not come as a shock 🤣)
Storm and Shadowheart did share a bottle on more than one occasion during the early days of the journey, and she became very frustrated that he would not pick up on her signals and never even attempted to kiss her. So she kinda gave up on the idea fairly early, especially after it became clear that he was involved with Astarion. She was very happy with Karlach anyway, and in retrospect was very glad nothing happened. She comes to care for his friendship very deeply, and she was relieved there was nothing there to make it awkward.
Karlach
This is gonna be fast for her, lol. Instant crush developed with Shadowheart, and there was nothing else for Karlach after that haha (until Halsin in act II). So no proposals happened. I don't know if it's a bug that I get, but unless I'm really straightforward with Karlach, none of her romance scenes are triggering. Which is something I love about her <3 So whether that's her intended behaviour or not, I choose to keep that, and since neither Tav nor Storm are interested, absolutely nothing happened. Fireheart belongs with the edgy cleric (and with the bear druid :3)
Wyll
(This is supposed to be gold but I couldn't get the colour to look how I wanted, lmao)
So, the thing is, the dance scene definitely happened with Natavriel. Tav loves dancing, and they will dance with Wyll regularly. But there was never flirtation there, so in my mind that in-game dance scene happens, for sure, but it's entirely platonic. Wyll was the first of the tadfool that Tav emotionally "adopted" (well, there's Storm, but the situation is a bit different with him). They consider Wyll like family, a bit like a little nephew or something of that order. That later extended to Karlach, and then Shadowheart too, in a certain measure (once she rejects Shar). It's a familial kind of love. But in my mind Wyll is very aware of that dynamic and reciprocate that brand of feelings. Seeing Tav as a much older sibling, or a sort of parental figure.
And Storm is not an option lol. These two don't get along at all. Even later on, after Wyll softens his opinions, Storm is very much not doing anything to help mend their interactions xD Wyll is actually the only one that sparks his anger on a regular basis, for no other reason than being proud of being a good person... It's absolutely not fair, but being around Wyll makes him hate himself more than he already does, and that's bound to generate non sensical reactions. Also, Storm does not dance. Certainly not with Wyll, at any rate.
Halsin
He needs to be included here too, because there was some kind of crush situation going on there as well. With Tav, not Storm.
In my timeline Halsin becomes sort of an item with Karlach in act II, when Shadowheart is too busy being a good girl for Shar (emotional turmoil™) and is almost ignoring her girlfriend. And later on, he also becomes involved with Shadowheart. But Halsin is very polyam, and being in love with people does not mean his heart cannot fall again. And he shares a lot of things with Tav. They both have caretaker personality, and I think are able to recognise that in each other, and offer support to one another in a way few of the others can (Halsin was the one to help Tav out first, when they ran out of drugs for moods, and I like to believe Tav would find a way to reciprocate somehow. Not sure how, yet, I haven't thought about it enough). It's almost like self-care to do this, for them. They are around the same age (actually Tav is probably slightly older xD). Tav is fascinated by Halsin's connection with Thaniel, and Halsin is very interested in their relations to the Feywild. They spent hours crafting together in the Shadow Curse, whenever Astarion and Storm were not joining Tav for crafting hours.
So when act III comes, there would be a version of Halsin's declaration happening with Tav, althought a different one than the one that is in game, due to his own involvement with Karlach and Shadowheart.
Unfortunately, I do think Halsin would be pretty unfulfilled in an entirely sexless and nearly not romantic QPR, even a polyamory one, and a partner relationship would not work between them. But they're both mature enough to know this, they had a very long, very heartfelt conversation about this (unlike the panic that followed Gale's Weave lesson), and the friendship they share is a very close one even after that.
Aaand finally, Astarion
(and by extension, Storm)
Most people who've been on my blog for a while will know, Astarion did offer "a night of passion" to Natavriel. He does think they're attractive, and he likes/trusts them, even at the beginning of the journey, so they were a perfect target for his little plan. Tav could see that he was all but genuine though, so even if the sex offer had been appealing to them (it isn't), they would have refused him. In the flashback fic A Simple Plan you can see Tav's rejection, and then the beginning of Astarion's relationship with Storm right until the point of the confession.
Now, the main reason he goes for Storm after Tav's rejection is precisely because Tav and Storm are definitely the closest people in camp. And very early, Astarion will actually believe that 1) there's no way they didn't know each other before the tadpole because how can you care so much for someone you've just met?? and 2) the way these two behaves means there's definitely something going on there, but why in the hells are they not kissing and groping and all that if that's the case xD Astarion is in confusion land. It's very frequent that Storm sleeps in Tav's tent because he can't sleep alone (especially after the bard incident), and they're always hugging, and then there's the forehead kisses, the hand kisses, the cheek kisses. Storm is very touch starved, and happily gives back Tav's very platonic-yet-physical brand of affection.
Astarion jokingly brings that up with Tav once (it will be in the Tav short story I'm almost done writing), and Tav clears things up saying that no, they're not in a romantic relationship with Storm, at all.
That doesn't do much to clear Astarion's confusion, but he does take their words at face value, later makes the assessment that Storm must be "like a lost puppy who imprinted on Tav" (stole that line back from my fic haha) and then initiates things with Storm without second thoughts about this topic.
Storm is very much not polyamorous, however, and the situation with Tav works precisely because there's nothing sexual/romantic there. Their relationship/friendship could definitely fall under the QPR umbrella, if they were going to define it with labels (which they don't, during the span of the game) I do consider Storm and Tav to be something akin to... idk, soulmates?? only, not in a romance way. If that makes sense to anyone but me x)
If the post game situation was not what it was, in my mind Storm and Astarion would still take up the free room in Tav's apartment, at least for a while. Storm would struggle a lot if Tav were not around all the time, and neither he nor Astarion would have a place to live anyway, so it just makes sense. And it's not that Storm doesn't love Astarion, or that Astarion isn't enough, but Storm wants both of them to be in his life everyday. And with time, maybe something of a similar nature would develop between Tav and Astarion, too (I'm actually not entirely certain where their current relationship is going, to be perfectly honest.... Tav seems to be intent on misbehaving and going out of the path I've beaten for them xD but I really love this idea of the three of them living together, Storm and Astarion being a couple in the most traditional sense of the term, and their relationship still leaving enough space in both of their lives for Tav to be an indispensable part of it.)
Tav and Astarion's friendship during the journey is already very much deepened by the fact that they both love Storm deeply, even if not in the same way. And on the other side of this, everytime Storm catches Astarion being genuinely concerned for Tav's wellbeing, it sparks all the fuzzy feelings of "oh. my lover cares for this other person who feels like a part of myself, and I don't have to forsake either of them in order to love them both properly".
Up until the point where they are now in the fic, Astarion struggled a little to understand the depth of Tav's feelings, though. And once he realises just how much these two love each other, that night the three of them shared after the fight against Orin becomes a very important memory to hold on to. And a little piece of regret, too, that there has only been one single night, when maybe Storm would have been happy to have more.
The thing is, Tav craves companionship, and that is what they found with Storm. But they also sometimes consider other people's desires as taking priority, and therefore let their privacy to Storm and Astarion more often than not, under the assumption that Astarion would not want to share the space like this. And Astarion will be a bit mad when he realises this haha (what did we say about talking to people Tav??? Be honest!!). He's mad because this isn't something either of them can fix now, and they're going to have to live with that, to live with the fact that they both could have given more to Storm before the end. But Tav didn't bring up the topic specifically because Storm had so little time left, and they were afraid of making things complicated, and breaking Storm's heart if it didn't work out.
Anyway, I know a lot of it is sad, but their relationship makes me so freaking happy anyway. I am guilty of daydreaming about hypothetical scenarios where Storm gets to live way too often x) I am tempted to write a one shot AU haha (but honestly, if I start, I might not stop...)
But I'm also happy that I get to explore this specific version of Tav and Astarion's relationship/friendship where they both want to make it work despite the fact that Storm is no longer the centerpiece of it (even if he still is, in a way, and always will be). Tav and Astarion's bond is different from Tav and Storm's bond, but it's also a very deep kind of love that they have to figure out how to express.
So many WIP tags since the last time I've been around, if I thank everyone I'm bound to forget some x) forgive my scatterbrain, I'm still trying to catch up but I know I will miss some 🫂 Thank you all for thinking of me while I was gone 🩶
Please accept a featherlight uno reverse tag instead for : @missfortunetherogue, @burnt-by-marigolds, @spillingteanotpermitted, @litsenn, @riddlerosehearts, @ranger-jahen, @bladesingerlily, @optimisticgrey, @carnivaley, @cinder-rellish181, @theya-art, @michanvalentine, @endermal, @lucretiouswept, @et-augury and @lilhumanoid :3 (for whenever you want to share something <3)
I'm sharing, for once, something that should be published soon for the second part of my Natavriel story in act I, Conflicts of the Mind. This story is cementing platonic intimacy as the number one thing I like to write :3 Unfortuately, my writing pace has been abysmally slow lately so "soon" might mean at least two more weeks lol. Or three. Who knows? Certainly not me. I'm trying not to care that I am so slow.
General Durge cw below, but nothing graphic. Just Durge dreams, and Tav unfortunately (or fortunately) being in the vicinity.
Storm's slumber became more agitated in the morning, drawing Tav out of their trance earlier than usual. Dawn was just starting to lighten the night sky. They should have had at least another hour of rest, especially considering the overwhelm of the past few days.
Not enough, it's not enough, their anxious instinct whispered.
But they felt tired. Tired was good. Tired was normal. And at least no exhausting memories had surfaced during their reverie. Everything was good. No need to worry.
Tav stretched, arching their back to drive away the tension left behind by a short night, before focusing their attention on Storm, still sleeping fitfully at their side.
"Saabi," he mumbled. A name? No one that they knew, but maybe his empty memory wasn't as spotty whenever he slept.
Something unintelligible followed. Storm's eyes moved rapidly behind his eyelids —whatever dreams involved this Saabi person were not pleasant ones.
His hands twitched, before a shudder shook his body, and a moan of clear distress escaped him.
Should they try to wake him up? He generally reacted well to touch, and he'd given them permission for physical contact, whenever the panic was too strong for him to fight alone. But sleep was a different matter. Shaking him awake could be dangerous, and taming the panic that would come if he hurt them would be a complicated matter.
"Storm, love," they called softly.
He didn't stir.
Tentatively, they reached out, soft fingers brushing his forehead just below the horns. The tadpole, always uncomfortably nestled behind their eye, squirmed in answer.
Fuck, was the only thing they had time to think coherently, before ceasing to exist, their mind swallowed whole by the immensity of Storm's nightmare.
He climbed, the cloak on his shoulders heavy, blood soaking the fabric a little more with each step.
"Saabi, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This is the only way, now."
He didn't look at those he had left behind. Fear and despair were the only things he would find there, and he did not need any more of that. It was their blood dragging him down, he knew. Their blood, begging him to kneel under the weight.
Still, he climbed.
"This is the only way."
He couldn't stop now. He couldn't. Not after everything.
The steps under his feet were already crimson, an endless upward path paved with corpses, their blood mingling with that of the ones he had left behind. More, and more, the weight on his shoulders grew.
Still, he climbed.
The knife, firmly gripped in his hand, was cold. Blood would see to better that once more, soon enough.
A tiefling woman stood in his way. And in, went the knife. The tumbling fall of her body barely slowed him down. Blood spilled, warm on his hands, just as he had wished. The weight grew.
He climbed.
"This is the only way," he said to himself.
Two men watched him come. One of them, the young one, had shaken his hand, once. Or so he thought. And he'd wanted to deliver the boy. In, went the knife, doing just that. Bodies fell. The weight grew.
And he climbed.
The dragonborn was next. In, went the knife. Blood spilled. The weight grew.
He climbed.
There would be others. No matter. In, would go the knife. And still, he would climb.
This was the only way. The only way.
The first ones to die had been the lucky ones. Anything was better than to live in a world where he continued to exist.
"I'm sorry," he kept whispering, the words like a prayer on his lips.
The end of the climb was near. And there stood people that he recognised. People that, foolishly, he had come to know by name.
Gale. In, went the knife.
Lae'zel. In, went the knife.
Wyll, Karlach, and Shadowheart. In, and in, and in, went the knife.
Astarion. In, went the—
No. No, he didn't want to. He didn't want to. But this was the only way. He couldn't stop now.
In, went the knife. Blood coated those silver curls that so often glowed in the sun when Astarion fell, the colour matching his now lifeless ruby eyes.
Tav stood there, too. The last one still standing on the steps in front of him. And behind them, an altar where his own body laid unmoving. Waiting. At peace. Finally. The only way, this was the only way.
In, needed to go the knife.
Something fought for control. Instinctively, he fought back.
"This is my body," said Tav calmly, standing before him. Their mouth stayed shut. But it was their voice, in his mind. Their strength of will, fighting his own with a fierce desire to help that he could feel buzzing in his own bones. "Let me in."
He was them. Or, rather, they were him, in this moment. His steps halted. At his command, or at Tav's, neither of them could have been sure.
Such was the weight on his shoulders, if he stood still, he trembled under it. When he stopped fighting, Tav's body moved, closing the space between them both. Their fingers brushed his wrist, his skin slick with the blood of those people he knew. And those he didn't. And those he had forgotten. Mostly, those he had forgotten.
"Let go, love," they whispered.
He did. The knife fell. And so did he, crumbling under the weight.
Thank you so much for the tag @litsenn, @spillingteanotpermitted, @missfortunetherogue, @lottavilja, @the-font-bandit, and @riddlerosehearts 🩶
I'm sorry I'm a bit off of everything rn, if you see me like things without commenting, just know that I read everything and I care a lot, I just don't have a lot of energy to interact lately
But I was editing some Storm stuff (instead of finishing my next longfic chapter), and I liked this bit from the morning after their first night, so I figured I might as well answer the pending wip tags. Here, have an "oh fuck I'm going to die" moment from Astarion. It only lasts for a second haha. He's not usually scared of Storm, but he would be mostly defensless in this moment (fangs aside) so I think it's justified x)
Tagging with no pressure @burnt-by-marigolds, @et-augury, and @lofi-fried if and when you'd like to share something :3
When he sat up, he did find Astarion there, standing in the middle of a patch of sunlight that bled through the tree cover. The vampire seemed to be quietly enjoying the morning sun, his hair glowing under the light, looking infinitely more relaxed than he'd been during the night.
And just as Storm had thought, there were scars on his back. Three perfect concentric circles cut with jagged script in various places. The symbols eerily familiar to his eyes, for a reason he could not pinpoint. Now that he was seeing them in the light of day, the scars looked deep, and painful. He'd witnessed Astarion heal whenever the vampire managed to get his fangs into something during a fight. Fast. Unnaturally so, even as he'd said the healing was subdued by the tadpole.
How long must have the knife carved, so that the wounds didn't close? How deep? Or, —and that possibility echoed his own craving for death, always denied— how long had Astarion been starved of blood before the blade had been put to his alabaster skin? The hunger, purposefully left unsatisfied, just so that he would not heal?
Storm saw blood, glistening, thick and crimson, the rage threatening to overflow. Not Astarion's blood, he would always deny his mind's pleasure for that. No. The blood of whoever had dared to slice that back open. Spilling that blood would be satisfying.
It would be good. Maybe even righteous.
He counted the wild beats of his heart, breathing as calmly as he could, and willed the red veil away. It wasn't even that hard, for once. Barely more than a few moments of struggle. The memories of Astarion's hands, chasing shivers on his skin, were enough to summon an entirely different kind of desire in him.
Astarion must have heard his heartbeat shift, though, because when Storm opened his eyes again, the vampire was half looking at him over his shoulder.
"You sleep light," he said.
"Always."
The world swayed when he stood. Too fast, after the gift of his blood from the night before. He took a few steps, testing his balance.
Good enough.
He made his way to Astarion, the scars begging for his attention. Now that he was closer, he understood why the script felt familiar. Infernal. As to why he would know that language, his empty memory left him with no answers, but he had gathered it wasn't an uncommon knowledge, for tieflings.
"Who did this to you?" he asked, careful to not let the lingering anger tinge his voice. "Your scars."
Astarion huffed something between a sigh and a scoff. "My… former master. Cazador," he spat the name. "He considered himself quite the artist, and used his slaves as canvas. Those scars were his… gift. A poem, composed and carved over the course of a night. He made a lot of revisions as he went."
Blood. Red. Glistening. Flowing freely. "A poem?" He struggled to keep the growl out of his voice. "In Infernal?"
"Infernal? I—"
Astarion turned around, then, and took a step back upon taking in Storm's expression, the words dying on his lips and something like fear in his eyes. Storm looked away, breathing deeply against the bloodlust that kept rising, after all.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm not going to lose control, I promise. And it isn't your blood I want to spill anyway."
Nervous laughter answered him. "Oh?"
"I was only thinking about—" He searched his mind for the exact wording Astarion had used a few days before. "About 'prodding and hacking with a dinner knife' into that man you call Cazador." Perhaps the reminder of their shared murderous banter would be enough to drive the flicker of fear out of Astarion's eyes. "It wouldn't be a waste of time, then. Not with him."
"Mh." Astarion looked at him with a curious expression, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're sweet."
Laughter chased the last of the blood rage away, and he dared to look back fully at Astarion. "I think you are the only person who would ever call fantasising about murder 'sweet'." When he took a step toward the man, and Astarion didn't retreat, he closed the space between them to brush the back of a cold hand with one finger, voicing the other desire he'd been fighting against for a big part of the night. "Can I… kiss you?"
Astarion seemed caught off guard by the question, but recovered immediately and huffed a laugh. "My dear, after what we did last night, I think we are long past the point of asking for kisses."
"Are we?"
Maybe they were. He couldn't remember anyone else before Astarion. He had no idea how things were done. He was pretty sure Astarion wasn't his first, it had felt too natural, during the night. Even if Astarion hadn't let him do much of anything, clearly favouring being the one to set the pace. But outside of the sex itself, Storm seemed to be more than clueless.
What would be the least likely to annoy Astarion? Kissing him without waiting for confirmation, or asking again?
Astarion clicked his tongue impatiently, delivering him from the agony of indecision. "Well? Are you going to kiss me, or not?"
Will he? Yes of course. But I had to cut this somewhere, or I was just going to end up sharing the whole scene x) And it's not off the editing board yet.
