#also i'll update with a new screenshot of my blorbos at some point | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suitetarts · 5 months

Text

cloud nine (part 1)

Astarion x Original Female Character, Dark Urge Tav (Good) Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Eventual Smut (Link to AO3) A much needed discussion about freedom and what it means for two rebellious spawns (Bhaal and vampiric, respectively) in the aftermath of Lorroakan's defeat. They are both free to discover their own desires, and Delilah really wants to fuck Astarion in running water while she still has the chance.

The intention was to just write beach smut where my OC Delilah and Astarion get sunburns but it completely went off the rails. So here's part 1, the angsty lead up to a smutty smutty part 2. You can go to the AO3 series for the other gen one-shot fics I have for my OC, or click here and there.

The second floor of the Elfsong was scrambling to quickly don armor, fill bellies, and otherwise prepare for the day’s events, which happened to start with chasing Aylin through the city streets during the small hours of dawn. The aasimar’s whereabouts were no puzzle to solve, however; she had rather loudly announced her plans to storm Ramazith’s Tower and confront Lorroakan under the spell of her mother’s moonglow. The logistics and planning blur into Delilah’s memory of the fight itself – the crackle of her storm magic piercing through the summoned elementals like a hot knife in butter and the Sword of the Moonmaiden cleaving the wizard’s torso from shoulder to hip.

All at once with earth shattering speed, the tower was quiet, save for heaving chests and the sheathing of weapons.

Once the adrenaline of battle wore thin, Aylin appeared to lose her strength and resolve. A numbness falling over her that even her darling cleric could not mend. The sudden loss of her inner fire seemed to cast a gloom over the party, although the others did their best to move past it. Gale accepted Rolan’s thanks to the party, trying to leverage some assistance in retrieving artifacts he desired. Karlach and Shadowheart mulled about on the promenade and gossiped in the passing clouds. Astarion, though…

Where was he?

A half smile pulled at Delilah’s features as a location came to mind, tempered only by the mood at the top of the fallen wizard’s tower. She immediately made the executive decision to take the rest of the day off even though the sun had not yet reached its highsun crest. The others barely noticed her slip away to the portal, and if they did, they must have thought little of it.

The vampire and drow were rarely apart, if not constantly on top of one another. If one wandered off, the other would not be too far from their heels. And for the rest of the tadpoled adventurers, they were better off not having to be subjected to the constant public display of sickening and often off-putting affection.

Her boots raced through the Basilisk Gate and through Wyrm’s Crossing, down the path winding around Ilmater’s church. The fresh air caressed her like fine spider silks as she found her way to the bay, a markedly more welcome scent than the dead fish and industrial waste of the main city port. She veered away from the visible shore onto an animal’s path snaking through trees and eventually approached a stone wall overlooking the churning waters where the fresh muddy Chionthar met the salty clear Sea of Swords. With an incantation and a wave of her hand, she floated over and down to her favorite secret: a small sandy beach, far away from the stink of Baldur’s Gate.

Delilah looked down as she flew, the two pairs of crimson red eyes locking together as Astarion smirked up at her through the flapping of her skirts. Blood rushed to her face as she made a show of it, swinging her knee out in a curtsy motion and flashing him with what she hoped would be a better glimpse of her underclothes.

“Don’t you think it’s rather early to be so forthcoming?” His usual flamboyant and chiding tone did not match his body language as he caught her gently by the waist. He recognized the incongruence, and so to compensate, shifted his grip around to her ass as her feet met the ground.

“Saer, I’m just being polite. What are you implying?” She played along with his temperament, her arms twisting loosely around his neck to pull him close. “That it's forthcoming to offer you my respect and deference?”

He genuinely laughed, a hearty singular ‘ha’ escaping his chest. “When have you ever been deferent to me, my dear?”

Delilah faltered for a moment, the response to their banter withering on her tongue. When had she been deferent to him, indeed?

Her tadpole writhed against her eye as flashes of her other life splattered across her vision like so many bloody victims of her gruesome crusade. She had previously obeyed her “mother” and the Spider Queen, her true father, his dreadful blood coursing through her veins, and, to some extent, apparently even Gortash. The memories she could recall of them were surely a drop in the ocean compared to what she had forgotten, and she knew she was better for it.

More specifically, when it came to Astarion, nearly every suggestion of his was taken with a grain of salt. Not for a lack of love and care, he was just consistently not thinking things through and seemed to overall acquiesce to her preferred methods without too much complaint. But… Truly the one thing he ever seriously asked of her, to help him complete the ascension ritual for himself, and she basically said no. The pinched fury in his brows and the way he tensed around her in Cazador’s grand chambers in the immediate aftermath still haunted her. He later insisted that he was grateful for her clarity, for saving him from himself. But anxiety chewed through her resolve and made her question herself.

She sighed around a bitter smile as she returned to the present, shielding her eyes from the morning light as she looked up at him. “I can’t recall, my love.”

The jesting tone between them had evaporated in the bright sun, which drenched the small stretch of sand in a near blistering heat if not for the breeze coming off the harbor.

“Yes, right,” he said, clearing his throat.

The pair of rebellious spawns stood in silence, neither of them sure how to start the inevitable post-battle discussion that was sure to cause more painful memories to bubble to the surface.

“Astarion… Why did you leave us in the tower?” she asked tentatively, cautiously, as she took a step away from his embrace and pulled him down to sit on the warm sand with her.

“To be dramatic, of course.”

He waited for Delilah’s eyes to roll before softening, combing through the granules of sand with his hands as he avoided her gaze.

“It’s just… It’s hard to see someone go through that. It’s unfair, to feel so empty after finally getting what–” He cleared his throat with a purse of his lips. “What Aylin wanted. Like justice denied.”

Delilah was tempted to say that she understood, but truly she didn’t. She wasn’t sure if it was even possible to get a chance to face Bhaal the way that Astarion and Aylin were able to face their tormentors. She was honestly a touch jealous, but she also couldn’t begin to imagine what it must be like to bring upon the end of those who hurt her so deeply. At least it made sense that an entity as untouchable to mortals as the God of Murder would be difficult to extract closure from. And yet, on the other hand, it was so impossibly unfair for someone like Cazador to die swiftly in the face of multiple human lifetime's worth of suffering.

Instead of speaking, she simply leaned into him as they watched the crystalline waves lap at the shore. He mirrored her, resting his ear against her shoulder.

The biological warmth of her pressing against his head mixed with the radiant, near overwhelming heat from the sun and its reflection off the sand felt like a drug, the anxiety and numbness sloughing off of him like molting snakeskin. The manifestation of his greatest desire, for Cazador’s death at his own hand, had not been what he dreamt of, but it still happened. His sire was still dead, while he was now richer than his master had ever been, even with the entirety of Baldur’s Gate at his gilded fingertips, thanks to the tadpole’s gift of the sun and his friends and lover at his side. He and Aylin were still free.

“Still,” he said after a minute of rest, his tone steady and composed. “The Nightsong’s fair-haired fool is done. That’s what matters.”

Her thoughts lingered on her predicament with her father.

“Is it?”

Astarion’s brows pulled together in confusion but kept his head tucked under her ear. A mocking tone entered his voice as he spat, “Surely you don’t think that charlatan twig could possibly come back to life after being cut in half.”

“No, not like that. I…” Delilah’s words trailed off as she began to lose the nerve to give her thoughts weight by speaking them aloud. She set her jaw and pursed her lips. “I don’t know. Whatever.”

He made a frustrated sigh. Even after all their time together, he found that she still took him too seriously at times. “My love, you know I didn’t intend to silence you.”

“I know.”

“You make it so easy to give you grief.”

“I know.”

He pushed more of his weight into her for a moment, allowing the two a brief sway. “Go on then.”

“Fine,” she said with a heavy sigh. “You said Lorroakan is done. And that’s what matters. So is killing what matters?”

Astarion waved his hand with a non-committal yet affirmative, “Well…?”

“I– I don’t know. Aylin looked so tired. And I’m tired. Killing is what I’ve always done, endlessly. Even now that I’m trying to change and be better, I’m still killing. And I’m still enjoying it. I don’t want killing to matter to me anymore. I want what happens afterwards to be what matters.”

Delilah emphasized her final point by taking his hand, intertwining their fingers with a firm grip.

Astarion’s involuntary response was for his heart to jump into his throat at her implication, before it dissolved into a warm fuzziness spreading from his chest to his toes. In his old life, there was never an “afterwards” worth having. After they’d used his body up for all that it was good for, if they weren’t already drained of their blood by Cazador or left in some dungeon to rot for centuries, who could possibly want him after finding out what a monster he was?

But everything was different thanks to the tadpoles. He began to think about it all, became overwhelmed, and deflected.

“I really do think you’re making a stink out of what I said. Killing and revenge can be mutually-exclusive actions, but they are so delicious when served together.”

“Perhaps,” she murmured, letting out a small breath from her nose.

Taking her response at face value, he continued. “Honestly, don’t worry about all these Dead Three worshippers. Enjoy their blood if you want to, I sure am.”

She slowly stilled, her breath light enough to not disturb a feather.

His voice dropped as he doubted himself, “Listen, with–”

“I put on a good show, Astarion, but I’m tired,” she interrupted him softly as she laid her head on top of his, wiping her smudged eyeliner into his white curls.

His lips pulled to a taut line, unsure of how to best respond. His first choice was always to make a joke, and she was morbid enough to enjoy his humor, but definitely not at this moment. He could offer to do all the killing for her; he wouldn’t mind, although the battles to come as they approach the Absolute may prove overwhelming without her participation.

Or, going against his learned nature to please above all else, he could tell her hard truths.

“We’ve got at least two cults and an elder brain to contend with before we’re done with all of this.” Astarion took his other hand to cup their conjoined fingers. “But we’re so close. Don’t give up just yet.”

“Who said anything about giving up?” She bristled, her voice rising as she spoke. “I’m just looking forward to a morning where I leave my trance without being terrified I’ve hurt someone again.”

“Being tired, giving up. Six of one, half dozen of another,” he retorted, meeting her volume as his hands pull away from hers to gesture, only to return to her hold as his voice lowered. “You can’t lie to me about this… I know it far too intimately.”

She hummed, a light airy thing that contrasted heavily with the tense hold of her muscles.

Silence.

Neither made an effort to disentangle from the other as they sat in their anger.

Until he twitched.

“Gods, I hardly need a reflection when I’ve got you,” Astarion breathed, the affection in his voice strong enough to choke him unconscious. “A complaining, stubborn, impatient little wretch.”

He always knew how to make her smile.

“I promised that we will get your freedom, like you helped me get mine. We’re close. Just be patient,” he asked, petting the back of her hand. A twinge of guilt threatened to churn his eternally empty stomach, as it did every time he told this sweet lie of a promise that he knows he can’t guarantee. Her freedom wasn’t as simple as vampiric chains between sire and spawn.

“It’s hard to be patient when there’s so much to look forward to.” Delilah pulled him in closer by his waist, the words turning sour as she said them aloud.

When did imagining the future become so painful?

It had started in the wilderness of the Sword Coast, when she was at her most lost and before he even cared for her in the slightest, in part as an exercise to keep spirits high and hope alive. The first idea he had shared with her was an exaggerated tale of another loveless and passionate tryst, except in a feather bed with Cazador’s head on a spike. The dreams became less grand and more real as feelings progressed, and simultaneously more terrifying.

She was the first person he truly cared for, the first person to truly care for him. And yet, mortal peril was stalking them both around every corner, snuffing out their dreams before they could even give them life as spoken word. Why would Delilah tell him that she will forsake every god on every plane to be at his side, on adventures or in domestic bliss or whatever else he wanted, for the rest of her days? Why would Astarion tell her that after a brief mortal life and 200 years of slavery, he had so many more firsts to experience and he wanted all of them with her? Saying such things would only cause them more pain should they fail.

She cleared her throat.

“But I will be patient. We’ll figure it out,” she stated with an impostor’s confidence. “And I’ll– I’ll do what I need to do.”

She pressed her ear further into his hair, holding onto his thigh for balance. “Once they’re all dead and we’re free, we’ll have so many nice mornings.”

“Ooh, interesting,” he sang, ever the opportunist, seizing upon a chance to shift in the mood in a less self-pitying direction. A dramatic grimace painted his elegant features as he continued, “I’ve heard the rumors. I don’t even want to think of what sort of hedonistic rituals come after a mass killing with you Bhaalist freaks.”

“I– What? Gods, just–” She thrusted her shoulder up in aggravation, hitting it against his ear rougher than she intended. He yelped and clutched at the side of his head, but even so he seemed proud of himself for riling her up. “Get your mind out of the gutter for five seconds, Astarion.”

“Five seconds?” After a brief moment of dramatized thought, complimented by a hand gesture and a flick of his wrist, he continued the countdown.

“Four…”

He made a show of removing his gloves, an act that always got her undivided attention.

“Three…”

Delilah generally had an even and intimidating poker face. However, at this moment, she was failing to keep her amusement and desire under wraps.

“Two…”

Astarion firmly grabbed her arms with his trademark mischievous grin.

“One…”

Don't fret, I've already got over 2300 words written for Part 2. Coming soon!

11 notes · View notes

infinitethree · 1 year

Text

OOC::

This is gonna be a bunch of links to the Sanctuary builds, which are also linked in the doc of docs & taglist/links page on the sidebar.

I'll be adding some images I want to say something about. Also, just know that I frequently have gone back and tweaked or even completely redid parts of it.

Builds; Old-> New, save for Updates which is new-> old to show any new stuff easier.

Overall has over a thousand pics spanning from January 11th 2022 to a week or so ago. I've been working on this 1.16.5 creative world for what my launcher tells me is over 14 days of time spent entirely in-game.

There are over 150 mods used, ranging from itty bity ones ("No Potion Shift" at 3KB & "Shut Up Experimental Settings" at 5KB) to almost comically large ones ("Caves & Cliffs Backport" at 50,313 KB & "Modern XL" at 37,090 KB).

I run it on a laptop, but I do have to turn pretty much everything else off. I usually switch to my phone for music/podcasts + Discord and have just the game running. Also, I got this model specifically to handle Minecraft and for having ample space for my music. I have all of it stored on my computer and played through MusicBee, because I don't want a million ads.

You might notice that it takes a looooong time for most of the buildings to get roofs. This is because I didn't understand how those blocks worked. And also I just don't like doing them much; they're boring compared to the character detail stuff.

-Overall

-Updates (New-> Old)

-Day + Theo + Lee & Temp Refugees

-Dee + Orph + Perce & Forge

-Atlas + Quizzy & Adamantium

-KinderSofter!Crew [Perce’s friends] -Poison Farm

-Aster

-Daz + Raine

-Aleph + Khons

-Council of the Star Headquarters It's not in the actual album (since the dates don't align, because it was just a screengrab to share with Noodley vs a proper screenshot), but these were the original blocks I planned on using for the three main Summer Hills houses:

The mod with the tiles and logs got removed early on, so I had to pick something else to use. I like the end result way better, though; each house has a more distinct flavor while still being fairly cohesive.

If I had to pick a specific detail as my favorite, it'd have to be the creeper plushies. At some point, Lee decides that creepers are protectors; thus, anyone he cares about needs to have a plush version. Sentiments on the look of them are...mixed.

Theo thinks they're creepy as hell but his baby brother gave those to him-- thus, they're above his gear as an 'intimidation tactic'; Day is, uh, not super keen on waking up from a nightmare to the sight of creepers, so he has them out of his line of sight; Perce's friends think it's almost tooth-rottingly sweet but in a /pos way, etc.

It all spawned off of seeing the creepers in the "Modern XL" mod, and realized those are EXACTLY the sort weird, kinda unnerving thing a kid would latch onto.

Day, Theo

Dee, Orph, Atlas

Perce, Lee (there are just barely 5 in the shot and that's not even all of them!)

Quizzy

Oisin, Agni [Perce's friends]

Damon, Oxylos [Perce's friends

Aster, Khons + Aleph

Daz, Raine

And here's a few pics of things specifically referenced in prose:

Sibling Acceptance Rituals, chapter 1 (where they're standing near Theo's room)

Sibling Acceptance Rituals, chapter 2 (very start of the chapter)

any scene in the den of the main house

Progress is Relative, chapter 3 (referenced; Dee's lamps that "look like honey but do NOT taste like it")

Polaris Shines Above; Aster's temporary room

Polaris Shines Above, chapter 9 ([redacted], obviously VERY in progress)

Uhhh and it looks like I ran out of space. Hmm. I...will shuffle the Piccrew/Art to its own post, lmao.

I'm absolutely willing to answer questions about things anyone is curious about!! I love explaining myself, and more importantly, explaining things about my silly little blorbos. Or even just what mods I used.

#cocochaos #long post

4 notes · View notes