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spacebarbarianweird · 3 months

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HC of Astarion x fem Elf Tav who’s a Druid, more specifically of the Circle of The Spores subclass. She wears skirts and dresses of dark teals and blacks with gold embroidery and legs round gold glasses, always travels with herbs and roots in her pockets and pouches, and is never afraid to raise an army of the fungal infested undead for the hell of it. Basically she’s the healer who puts on a neutral front but is begging for the chance to rightfully unleash chaos and destruction

Hi! Oh, this is a nice design of a character! And I am sucker for elf!Tav because they can live for many centuries. And Spore Circle is absolutely badass. It turned out to be weird, creepy and bittersweet and I hope you like it! I also tag @tolkien-fantasy since they love Spore Druids.

Astarion x Spore Circle Druid!Tav

There is a thing about Spore Druids.

Unlike your colleagues, you don't particularly hate the undead.

If anything, your magic is about death, too.

Mold and fungi transform lifeless material into something new and weird.

Death isn't the end, it's just a new stage.

The problem with the undead is that they often wish things would stay the same and never change.

Which is unnatural.

Life is about growth and death is about transformation.

You encourage Astarion to heal and grow.

The worst thing about his past was stability and the belief nothing was going to change.

But somehow he preserved his personality and now he slowly demonstrates his ability to "live" in his undeath.

Though, you scare him a bit.

You can resurrect the dead with spores, turning them into zombies, alive and dead, hungry and terrifying.

You infect the corpses and transform them into your loyal servants.

And you can use the same spores to make your enemies blind, deaf, or paralyzed.

Astarion calls you a walking hotbed of plague.

Though, of course, he is in awe - mostly because everything you do is between life and death, which is the stage he himself is stuck in.

But your magic is beautiful.

Mushrooms growing on dead bodies.

Mold desecrating the food.

Fungi bringing life to the most desolate places.

Post-game, Astarion doubts whether to go with you, but you assure him that the Spore Circle will accept him due to his ability to change.

You study the fungi to find answers to your questions and his problems.

The spores can make him more like a living person.

They can protect him from the sun, and they can let him eat normal food.

The prospect scares Astarion - he's seen the infected corpses. It's creepy.

And what if this magic fungi takes over his mind?

You don't insist. It's his choice, after all.

And you are an elf yourself, you have plenty of time.

But the life in the shadows and hunger take a toll on Astarion.

He doesn't want to be an undead. He wants to be alive.

And if his vampirism can't be cured, why not let nature change him?

At least, if you promise his personality won't be affected.

It won't, you are sure of that.

Astarion lets you infect him with the spores.

This transformation is nothing like becoming a vampire.

It's soft, gentle, warm.

Astarion feels like dreaming, sleeping in a warm bed.

The only thing he acknowledges is your presence. You check on him all the time sometimes meditating close to his "fungi grave".

It take almost a year for spores to finish their job, reconstructing his dead flesh.

A lonely year of being alone in your bed.

When Astarion wakes up, he doesn't feel the hunger anymore.

The sun doesn't burn him and he stays in the sunlight for hours before you come to take him home.

The symbiotic fungi has restored his organs to the point where they functioned as they are supposed to.

Astarion is scared to see himself in the mirror - but when he does he sees himself.

Though, there are some changes.

There are golden spots of spores in is eyes and barely visible cobwebs on his legs and arms.

And he is warm. He is so warm.

With his newfound "life", Astarion gets some new abilities, similar to the ones you have.

He can cast spores and rise up the dead, infecting them.

He can hear the fungi songs, connecting his mind with this ancient entity.

And he can feel you.

You know each other thoughts, each other intentions, and presence.

He always knows where you are. He feels your emotions, your sorrows and happiness and you feel him the same way.

You are more than thiramins, more than lovers.

But the best gift the spores gave to Astarion is mortality.

One day, the fungi will slowly take over his body and mind, transforming the flesh once again, bringing him mor, the final death.

And if you are still alive by this moment, you will let spores take over you so you can be together in this next stage of life and death.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce

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wild-magic-oops · 5 months

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Durge consumes the Noblestalk mushroom and regains a vivid durgetash memory from during their heist in the Hells

(2nd person pov because that's how memories work in the game. Written with my m!Durge in mind)

You feel a splitting headache for a moment before a memory comes rushing in. You are in a wide hallway, in a richly decorated home of some sort. The floor is littered with the corpses of dozens of Hell's denizens, blood still pooling under them - a clear sign of a battle just passed. And amongst the carnage, standing tall and bloodied, is a dark-haired man with a half-crazed grin on his face, chest still heaving from the fight, eyes alight with so much emotion you can almost drown in them. This feels cathartic to him somehow, a victory for more reasons than are apparent. And he is magnificent in his triumph.

A name tickles the edges of you mind - the man's name. Enver. He turns sharply towards you, dark eyes now hungry for a different reason. A few quick steps and he pushes you against the wall with enough force to rattle your skull a bit. You feel your lips pull in a wide grin, clearly enjoying yourself. He grins back at you, then sinks his teeth into your lower lip, breaking the skin a bit, enough to hurt just the right amount. He knows you so well. You bite back in return, his blood so sweet on your tongue, his lip so tender between your teeth, and his scent so heavy in the air. Your body sings with pleasure and urgency.

His clever bloodied fingers work both his and your own pants open, just enough. You don't have time, but your arousal cannot be ignored. He takes you both in his hand, coating your flesh with the blood of his enemies. It's depraved, vile, and absolutely glorious. The blood is still warm, but thickening with every stroke. Delicious, divine. Closer, closer, you're on the precipices...

With a snap the memory fades, and you're on your knees in the dirt of the Underdark, pants so tight it almost hurts. You will need to take care of your problem before venturing back to camp. You are left wondering about the man. This Enver person. Were the two of you lovers? Deep down in your heart you feel such connection. The type of bond that defies the gods. Was it ever the same for him you wonder.

[ AO3 LINK ]

#durgetash #enver gortash #gortash x durge #durge x gortash #durge #bg3 #my posts #my fics #I can't believe I wrote a 2nd person pov #but it fits with how it is in the game #even tho I dislike 2nd pov and never reads fics ft that #writing it is better tho #did I manage to write durgetash fucked up enough to pass I wonder lmao

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anonymous-dentist · 6 days

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Part Four of the Catboy in the Village AU

Part: One | Two | Three

Growing up on the battlefield, Cellbit's meals consisted of two things: cold mushroom soup, and unseasoned human flesh. No set times, only eating when he had managed a kill. It was a reward: no killing, no eating. Simple, and very effective at turning him into the monster he would grow up to be.

Prison meals were scheduled... more or less. During the second guard's shift outside of his cell, he would be given half a loaf of bread and a rusty metal cup of browned water. That was all he got, because he didn't deserve any more.

Now? Cellbit has gotten soft. His husband likes to cook, and it turns out that Cellbit likes to watch his husband cook. If he's in the kitchen when Roier is, he isn't walking away hungry, and it took the first two years of their marriage for Cellbit to get used to it.

The castle, though. The castle is worse.

Mealtimes are strictly scheduled. Breakfast is at eight in the morning. Lunch is at one in the afternoon. Dinner is at seven. If Cellbit and Roier aren't in attendance, they're to be dragged to the table kicking and screaming.

The food isn't even that good. It tastes like the sweat and blood of the poor oppressed farmers being forced to work for a monarchy that would happily throw them face-first into another war should one start. It's probably poisoned, too. Worst of all, it isn't Roier's, so it's just kind of terrible by default.

So it's always as such: Cellbit and Roier sit at one far end of the table next to each other. The queen rolls her eyes and tries to start a conversation that Roier politely engages in and Cellbit ignores. Cellbit doesn't eat, not even when Roier gives him big sad eyes and does that cute pouting thing he does with the voice and the face and the everything.

Today is no different. The breakfast dish is small, because apparently the Gato Kingdom doesn't do breakfast the way they do back home in the Águila Kingdom. Açaí, sure, whatever. It isn't Roier's cooking, so Cellbit won't eat it.

Roier does the little pouting thing, turning in his seat to face Cellbit and hooking both his hands over Cellbit's forearm. His eyes get huge, and his face gets sad, and he's so cute, Cellbit's heart might burst!

"Gatinho, come on!" he whines. His head tilts, awww. "You're going to starve to death, and you won't even be a handsome corpse. You'll be all-"

He bugs his eyes out and practically unhinges his jaw as he makes an utterly visceral groaning-choking-rasping-moaning sound.

The knights at the door all exchange disturbed looks.

Cellbit wants to kiss his husband now.

So he does. He takes Roier's chin in his hand, and he pulls him in for a kiss that Roier comes away from moaning sinfully enough to make a cleric drop dead.

Cellbit swipes his thumb under Roier's bottom lip, raises his hand to cup Roier's cheek.

"You make the sweetest noises," Cellbit sighs. He smiles as Roier rolls his eyes.

He turns his gaze from his husband to his so-called "sister", who looks two seconds away from coughing up her açaí.

"Speaking of noises," he says, "when were you going to tell us that our prison is haunted?"

Sensing a lost capital-'M' Moment, Roier grumbles and turns back to his breakfast. Per his request, he's gotten a plate of eggs and a small bowl of fruits to eat alongside his açaí. It's not quite breakfast like it is at home, but, well. Nothing about the Gato Kingdom is like it is at home, and it sucks.

The queen's spoon scrapes harshly against the bottom of her bowl as her arm jerks. Some of her açaí splashes up over the edge of her bowl and lands on the lap of her expensive-looking dress, good.

On a dime, all the guards in the room stand at attention. Their armor clanks, and their weapons flash rainbow in the sunlight streaming through the dining hall's enormous stained glass dome roof.

"Okay, first off, this is not a prison," the queen tensely says. She adjusts her grip on her spoon, holding it in a way that Cellbit recognizes from the way he's always held his knives. "This is a castle, and it is my home. Our home, if you ever want to consider it as such."

Cellbit nods. "Absolutely not."

"And that's fair! This is a lot for you! But it's an option for-"

"It really isn't, but this isn't about me and you. This is about whatever happened last night, because, really, if you had told me your castle was haunted, I would have been, like, ten times less likely to try and escape on the way here."

Roier nods and swallows a mouthful of papaya and covers his mouth and says, "It's true. He loves this shit. He's been trying to invent a ghost-in-a-bottle for years."

It's true. Most of Cellbit's potions are his own recipes, because most alchemical recipes require ingredients that only noblemen can afford, and he's been broke for his entire memorable life. He didn't care that he married rich, he didn't want to use Roier or his family's money just for potion ingredients. He can trap faerie essence in bottles for a quick dash of healing, why can't he trap ghosts? It's the next step, obviously.

"And I'm going to," Cellbit insists. "I just need more time!"

"Yeah, well, you've got all the time in the world now," Roier says. "You know. Because you're kidnapped."

He gives the queen a pointed look.

The queen looks two seconds from shoving her spoon into her own eye. Maybe she should do it, it would be more interesting than yet another argument about the lost prince.

She slowly lets out a very, very stressed-sounding breath. And then she smiles, all teeth, fangs and all. (Lucky. Cellbit had his fangs filed down in prison upon being arrested.)

"You like ghosts?" she asks. "Me, too! We have an entire section in the library on the paranormal. I can show you later, if you want."

Oh, ew.

Cellbit feigns interest. He leans forward in his chair and forces his ears to perk up and swivel in her direction.

"Oh, really?" he asks. "You'll have to take me there! And then I can take one of those books and break your skull open with it."

He smiles, all teeth.

The queen's face falls into frustration. Her ears turn to the side; aggression.

"Oh, fuck you!" she snaps. "I'm trying here!"

Cellbit drops his own enthusiastic expression and sneers, slumping back into his seat. His ears turn to the side; aggression.

"Nobody asked you to," he says. "You could let us go right now and we'd all be much happier, I think."

"I can't!" she shouts. She stands, eyes blazing. Her hands slam down on either side of her bowl hard enough to shake the whole table. "You are so stupid!"

Oh, so she's allowed to be angry?

Not to be outdone, Cellbit jumps to his feet and grabs Roier's spoon right out of his hand and stabs it into the table so forcefully it sticks straight up when he lets go.

"I'm stupid?" he laughs. He shakes his head, bares his teeth. "You're the one chasing ghosts, and not even the right ones! Your castle is fucked, and you're more caught up in your dead brother than the demon possessing your house!"

Roier's eyes widen. "Demon? What the fuck?"

"My brother is not dead!" the queen argues. "But he might as well be! He was a genius, and you're- you're just stupid! No wonder it took you so long to break out of prison, you had to wait for someone to think of a way out!"

Cellbit's ears ring. He can't see- is the room shrinking, is that it?

His hands twitch by his sides, long-lost claws flexing.

The queen sniffs and turns to leave.

"I'm going to solve the enigma myself," she snaps. "Since you're too stupid to do it, apparently."

Roier makes some little sound, but Cellbit can't hear it above the noise in his ears.

"You miss your brother so badly, huh?" he feels his mouth say. "Well! Why don't you just fucking join him?"

He's moving before he remembers how, and he's on the floor beneath Roier's body within seconds.

Cellbit screams and claws at the floor and reaches for the retreating form of the queen, and- oh, his face is wet, he can feel it as Roier flips him over onto his back and cups his cheeks firmly.

"Cellbo," Roier says, "enigma, Cellbit. Enigma do Cellbit. Okay? No murder, we can't go to jail. We have to get Richarlyson. And Pepito. Can't do that in jail, right?"

Cellbit's hands scramble to hold Roier's wrists.

"I hate her," he hoarsely says.

Roier nods. "Me, too. She sucks. But. Enigma. There's a mystery, yes? And she thinks you're too dumb to solve it, but we know she's wrong. You can kill her, but that'll be it. But if you prove her wrong, you can do that twice."

Twice. He isn't the prince. And he isn't stupid.

Cellbit sniffs and nods. "I'm- she's stupid. I told her she's stupid. She's too caught up in her own shit. Not very queen-like."

"Nah, she's bad at this," Roier agrees. His thumbs brush the angry tears out from under Cellbit's eyes. "But... so what? When you prove her wrong and we get to go, we'll never have to see her again."

He leans in close and whispers against Cellbit's lips, "We'll get to go home."

Cellbit's eyes flutter shut.

But:

"You're just manipulating me," he mumbles.

"Is it working?"

"...Yeah."

"Good."

'Good', indeed.

But Roier does have a point. Murder would feel good for the moment, but Cellbit would rather die than see his husband behind bars. And. And he needs his kids, he misses them so much.

So. No murder.

But there is a mystery or two at play.

One: why is the queen so convinced that Cellbit is her lost-slash-dead brother? Who told her to look for him, and how did she find him, and how does she know so much about him?

Two: what the fuck is up with the demon in the castle? Because it has to be a demon, no ghost is that powerful. Where did the demon come from, and why hasn't the queen gotten rid of it?

The queen may think that Cellbit is an idiot, but he really, really isn't. He just has a few issues. He's a genius, humble brag, he can solve these mysteries, and he will solve these mysteries. Then he and Roier can leave, and they can get their kids back from Bad, and Cellbit can be with his family again.

All he has to do is not murder the queen.

How hard can that be?

________________

To be continued

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#catboy in the village au #reminder that cellbo is a VERY unreliable narrator at all times in any au #ESPECIALLY when it comes to dealing with his sister here #meanwhile bagi... she's scheming lol

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wackytheorist · 2 months

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In a poetic mood today but the angst and bittersweet potential of bad's corpse?

Imagine a beautiful house that you live in! Now imagine a bit further away, only barely in eye site, you never really thought about it much but now.... Imagine sitting with the flowers is the rotting corpse of your father who has been missing for 4(?) days.

You've been worried about him and he was always in your vision, hidden.

I believe BBH's corpse area doesn't smell like rot, it smells quite sweet actually, lavender disguises the odder of a corpse quite easily. There is lavender everywhere, they tends to the corpse like an open casket.

The disfigured bits due to radiation were the perfect home to fungi, mushrooms sprouted from his body. Vultures never preyed on him, they knew better than to drink "demon blood" but due to that his body was decomposing slowly.

His hands are in a fist, one stretched out and the other relaxed. His last moments were in panic after all! His eyes were ones that understood and accepted his fate, after all he knew what was to come for 6 months. They had a bit of light in them, glowing in the night when fireflies come to rest on him.

He is one with the lavenders, peacefully laying as his children continue to grief.

#qsmp #tw corpse #tw graphic #cw gore #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp writing #badboyhalo qsmo #q!bbh #q!badboyhalo #qsmp bbh #writing #qsmp headcannon #(not a fanfiction)#just a poetic descripition on how I think bads corpse looks like

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astarionfreak · 4 months

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❝ astarionfreak's bg3 fanfiction masterlist

NSFW / 18+ only

All works on AO3 | Message me | Main blog

Ongoing

✘ exile (or: how you learned to stay) (11/?) Dark fic / Dead dove | Ascended Astarion (Evil) x Reader (Fem!Durge) & Shadowheart x Reader (Fem!Durge) | Read on AO3.

You turned away from everyone after defeating the Netherbrain. You spiraled out of control. Then, at your very lowest, Astarion, the Vampire Ascendant, found you. You give him everything. But your heart still belongs to Shadowheart -- and Astarion will never let you go.

✘ days of hedonistic debauchery (2/9) | Gale x Tessa (Fem!Tav) x Astarion | Read on AO3.

For Tessa, Astarion coming to stay with her and Gale in Waterdeep has been a dream come true. Even Gale is learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. But nothing can ever really be that simple, can it?

✘ the blood on your hands is mine (3/?) | Astarion x Wren (Fem!Durge) | Read on AO3.

Wren is a wretched thing. Dark thoughts consume her mind, urging her to kill, kill, kill. Her hunger for murder is only matched by Astarion’s thirst for blood. She’s fascinated by him. After all, he makes for such a perfect, pretty corpse.

Astarion thinks Wren looks particularly exquisite when she’s killing to protect him. If only he can figure her out, then he’d have her wrapped her around his little finger. It should be easy, right? Manipulate her feelings and ensure her dark thoughts are directed at his enemies — never at him.

✘ carve it in red (2/?) | Ascended Astarion x Serin (Fem!Durge) | Read on AO3.

Astarion, the Vampire Ascendant. He brought Baldur’s Gate to its knees. He is the man who has everything, but he lost her. Serin. His mad love. Consumed by her urge. Can she be saved?

Complete

✔ at least you purr for me (1/1) | Astarion x Reader (Fem!Tav) | only on AO3

You've been faking orgasms your entire life. And yes, you even faked during that night in the forest with Astarion. After a couple bottles of wine, the truth comes out and Astarion wants to rectify the situation.

✔ the lick of poison (1/1) | Astarion x Naenia (Fem!Tav) | Read on AO3 or Tumblr

She hadn’t recognized the mushroom by sight. But now she recognized it by sensation. A powerful, and often deadly aphrodisiac. She had a long night ahead of her. If she were to survive . . .

✔ are you satisfied, darling? (2/2) | Astarion x Naenia (Fem!Tav) | Read on AO3 or Tumblr

If Naenia could just rub one out on her own maybe she could stop thinking about Astarion and finally get some rest. There's one little flaw in her plan -- it's wriggling around her brain -- and giving the object of her desires a front row seat to her fantasies.

✔ palisade afternoon (1/1) Dark fic / dead dove | Ascended Astarion x Reader (Fem!Durge) | Read on AO3.

How long did you spend planning your escape only for it to fail? Astarion has bound you to him, body and soul. He has complete control. You are helpless as he takes advantage of you.

✔ beg like you need it (1/1) Astarion x Tessa (Fem!Tav) x Gale | Read on AO3 or Tumblr

Astarion, Tessa and Gale were thrown into jail. Astarion has some ideas on how to pass the time. He doesn't mind if Gale listens. But, if the wizard wants to use their little tadpole friends to watch, well, he'll have to beg.

✔ you'll hate me (make love) (1/1) | Ascended Astarion x Reader (Fem!Tav) | Read on AO3

You left Astarion after he completed the ritual. You lost the love of your life. You mourned him. Now, a year later, you return to him in a moment of desperation. Astarion grants you one last night with the man you lost.

or: Ascended Astarion pretends to be his spawn self as Tav's dying wish and they fuck on his grave.

✔ that darling neck of yours (1/1) | Astarion x Reader (Fem!Tav) | Read on AO3

When Astarion pulled you down to the ground and held that blade to your throat, it awakened your desire. He noticed -- and he's going to hold it against you (again).

✔ you're mine, remember? (2/2) | Ascended Astarion x Cassowary (Fem!Tav Spawn) | Read on AO3 or Tumblr

Reuniting with Gale was a surprise. The Vampire Ascendant's reaction to Cassie returning home smelling like Gale . . . Well, that was to be expected.

✔ now that his heart beats (1/1) | Ascended Astarion x Reader | Read on AO3 or Tumblr

You lay with your head on Astarion's chest. Your body is so quiet since you followed him into eternity. Astarion's is so loud, now that his heart beats again.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fic #astarion smut #i just like making lists ok

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merchant-wizard-and-jerry · 2 months

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“Hello, I’m the friendly wizard _____. My name got taken by a fey prince but it hasn’t really hampered my life. Anyways I am new to this wider wizard community and would like to get along. I have a magic book, a cart, and a friend. His name is Jerry, he is a fungus colony that has taken over my magic book and acts sort of as my patron. He…is a little weird but great fun.”

*sound of an explosion in the background, a book flys by being chased by goblin shamans casting fire ball*

“He is…”

“He is fine.”

“Anyways, I am here to sell goods and make a small profit. If you need something I’ll see what I can do : ) ”

“Also apparently I helped smuggle an amnesiac @fattocatto-wizard out of the city in my wagon. That was a shock, though he was just a cat.

Character Cheat sheet

( 3 currency to 16 silver crowns and 2 copper crowns)

(Current balance 76,737.75 currency, one penny, 23 meat pucks, 14 pounds, 2 gold coins one with Julius Cesar on it, 3 naturally-grown mana stones, 2 highly enchant able metal pieces, and one bar, 1 special bug corpse, 671 gold, silver 13, 70 aus, 5kg silver, magic dirt house size. 24 counterfeit currency. Moss/lichen-coded bio stone. An inverse cold torch. 99 BG silver. EMERALD LINCOLN, GOLDEN CARROT, 200 SALTED MEAT DISKS, 200 POLISHED ROCKS, 82 FIGET SPINNERS!, A FULLY EQUIPPED LICH'S DUNGEON, and a cardboard box (magic black marble).” Invisibility stone, a bundle of drake feathers, quantum locked rock, raw gold. 9 Gold coming from the green goblin empire, 50 mushrooms, 92 secret society emblem. 5 trans enchanted gold coins, 2 skull coin, ancient lost civilization fragment, 5 glistening green metallic coin, 31 writhing bugs of gold)

(Currently holding baby frost dragon.)

(Jerry’s balance 13 gold, a fancy rock, 1 coin, flower petals (snacks for later), harpy eyes, feathers, vocal cords, and talons)

(Warlocks of Jerry @fungal-boy-witch-yay @ignisuadaroleplay @life-is-okay-rn2 I think that is who it was…)

(Possessions - wealth stone, Antidote stone)

Owner of membership cards

——————————

@the-final-knight-2

@confused-sorcerer

@bi-gender-sorcerer

@the-mighty-dalob

@detectivewizzard

@goblin-wizard-in-the-making

@serious-tabaxi

@weltreths-wanderings

@ignisuadaroleplay (will)

@shittest-wizard-ever

@wizard-wylin-wylerian

@akronus-and-associates (the primordials)

—————————————

@hallowed-the-silver-gun

@jormungand-seas-champion

@crow-natures-wrath

@antros-ember-of-fear

@akronus-the-redeemed

@clockwork-time-watcher

@aldira-born-anew

——————————

@wizard-ghost

@yeast-wizard

@crickled-thorn-thug

———

Perks

———

5% off all purchases

Special requested items

More favorable bartering

———

#wizardposting #wizard posting #wizard #wizard tumblr #wizard shit #wizard island island

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sorcerous-caress · 6 months

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Drider!Minthara awoke in me something I didn't know I had.

Can we have some more? Whether it's smut or some non-smutty headcanons about seeing that half-insane creature and being like "I can fix her"

Drider Minthara headcanons

[Century au, fluff, nb!reader]

She eats the flesh of her victims, whatever food they happened to be carrying, she gives to you instead.

Even then, the gardens outside the cave are filled with various mushrooms that would make a mean stew

She plays the lyre, to both keep her sanity intact and pass the time. She is aware that most driders fell to madness because of isolation so she picked up several hobbies to fill her time with.

Gardening, playing the lyre, dismembering passing adventures.

Her hair grew out, it annoys her a lot and she puts it up with a tie she made out of her silk but it ends up sticking to her hair and becoming a problem.

Unless you say something, she'd probably cut it very short.

She has four eyes! They all work and blink, but her upper extra two are obscured by her hair.

She can both make the venom and the antidote to it through her fangs.

She is extremely large, like genuinely her drider half is massive. It doesn't even compare to her upper drow body.

It's because technically Lolth turned her into a drider as a reward not a punishment, so she made her really big and powerful. But it barely made a difference to the drow nobles who saw her as a monster.

The eggs do have a second parent! It is not you :(

It's a random male drider that kept annoying her to mate, so she agreed and bit his head off afterwards.

Lowkey she agreed because after so long alone, she really wanted kids, even if they were just normal spiders.

The male was there just for the convenience of reproduction.

She already liked spiders a lot before turning, which made this whole deal a little less shitty for her.

She picked the biggest cave in the underdark with a sussur tree growing around it as a fuck you to the drows in the surrounding area who started moving away with time.

She doesn't need to go hunting really, the food comes to her on its own.

But in case she needs anything from the inner cities, she knows a shady dealer or two who would trade favours for small jars of her venom.

The bloodrose happened by accident, she just used the back of her garden as a body pit to dispose of corpses at. But the fresh stream of blood coming in weekly made the bloodrose thrive in there.

#♡Minthara #♡drider minthara #♡century au #♡headcanons #minthara x reader #drider minthara #minthara baerne #bg3 x reader

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sepublic · 14 days

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Kinda disappointed with the official Shin Ghidorah, which is just regular Ghidorah but with a 'creepier' face like Shin Goji's. Because I always saw the design philosophy behind Shin Godzilla, and by extension any hypothetical Shin counterparts for other Kaiju, to be going back to the basics; Taking the original core idea behind a monster, and amplifying it.

Godzilla is an allegory for nuclear destruction and in some stories was created by radiation, so naturally Shin Godzilla is an irradiated mutant in constant agony over its transformation, whose final form resembles a black mushroom cloud.

So Shin Ghidorah for me should be more along the lines of... A radiant, cosmic alien god. Something so bright and overwhelming in its light that it's like facing the sun itself. A creature from the cosmos, representing one of the most powerful aspects of it. I hate to admit it, but something like the anime trilogy Ghidorah is more in lines with what I'm thinking of.

Shin Mothra would lean into the motherly guardian of nature vibes, while also embracing the fact that she's a magical girl kaiju. She's a beautiful goddess, her presence is comforting, may as well make her extra fluffy. She's easily the most conventionally good of all the monsters.

Some Shin counterparts could be more along what we got with Shin Godzilla; Shin Hedorah seems very straightforward. I also like to think of Shin Gigan, who is this reanimated, cyborg frankenstein's monster that constantly gets torn apart, only to come back each time, even more cybernetic. A creature taken apart and put back together, several times over, constantly losing itself as it gradually becomes more mechanical, a Theseus' ship. A creature that simply isn't allowed to die, its corpse pumped full of adrenaline, its heart and brain jump started, until it comes back wrong. So like Shin Godzilla, a suffering creature tormented by human technology. Gigan’s agony ramps up until it suddenly goes silent, indicating that last problematic bit of its soul has been replaced.

I wonder if a Shin Destoroyah might be reimagined as a plant monster, or some other type of organism that doesn't require oxygen to survive; Given it's to the Oxygen Destroyer what Godzilla is to the nuke, Shin Destoroyah should constantly be, well, destroying oxygen. Every living thing dependent on that is automatically suffocating just being in its presence.

Shin Jet Jaguar? A colorful tokusatsu superhero, Gurren Lagann mecha, and Pacific Rim jaeger rolled into one. Just lean into the corny cheesiness, that goofy and charismatic grin. Shin King Caesar is an ancient stone deity, a shisa statue brought to life. He’s a mythological protector who strikes fear into the hearts of evil. Gorosaurus is meant to be the biggest, baddest dinosaur ever, when a T-rex isn't enough to threaten Kong anymore. And given the dinosaurs in King Kong represent the return of the prehistoric past, Shin Gorosaurus would be like the Indominus Rex, in that it's designed to lean into all of the stereotypical cool factors of dinosaurs for kids.

#shin godzilla #godzilla #king ghidorah #mothra #gigan #destoroyah #jet jaguar #king Caesar #gorosaurus

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therobotmonster · 1 month

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What do you say to the one who killed Ceasar?

Corruption? Infighting? Communications breakdowns?

That aint' how it happened and that ain't how it is.

Pass me a sarsaparilla and I'll tell you how it happened and how it is.

After stamping westward like the vicious cattle they carried as their symbol, Caesar's Legion found New Vegas their downfall. Their martial prowess and seemingly endless numbers found in that place their nemesis, in the classical sense.

They found the Courier.

They didn't know what they found at first. The initial wound was shocking but not unthinkable. Vulpes Inculta went out to make an example of a local settlement called Nipton and never came back. The scouts that went looking for him found a their staging camp slaughtered. Landmines had been put in their sleeping bags. Their watchman was found in pieces.

Every scrap of clothing and equipment was gone. So it was chalked up to raiders. Patrols increased and the Legion moved on.

The loss of Vulpes Inculta's forces was a tiny cut, but a tiny cut can kill if infection sets in. The slaves at Cottonwood cove escaped, though no one could explain how. The Great Khans turned on Ceasar's Legion, somehow seeing through the Legion's plan for them. The prison break that kept the NCR off-balance just... stopped.

Weeks later, the forces at Cottonwood Cove sickened. By the time they found out their camp was contaminated with nuclear waste they were already dead. Their abhorrence of technology meant they had neither the Geiger counters nor the radaway to save themselves.

Prepared caravaners found Aurelius of Phoenix's wasted corpse, bald, covered in radiation burns, withered to a radioactive husk. He was staring up at one of the locals he'd ordered crucified. On his desk was a note saying "I did this. Signed, the Courier. XXXOOO" right next to a pile of human waste with Aurelius's helmet on it.

Enraged, Edward Sallow, the man calling himself Caesar, sent his assassins after the Courier. A squad of four, his second finest men. Then his finest four men. Then his third finest, and his forth. He'd sent his fifth squad before the one of them, the second batch, was found. They were stripped naked, their sun-baked corpses posed humiliatingly in acts of mock-coitus.

The scouts reported dutifully that the squad leader was found sitting atop his own head. The scouts didn't think their commanders needed to know how far down he was sitting.

Sallow watched the reports come in as this phantom cut through his men not with ruthless efficiency, but what appeared to be intentional ruthless inefficiency. The Courier wandered lazily from Legion outpost to Legion outpost without regard to strategy. The NCR would fight with a plan that could be anticipated. They wanted territory, they wanted resources.

As far as Sallow could tell, the Courier just wanted him to suffer.

Nelson's occupation ended in a hail of molotov cocktails and sniper fire. The plot to destroy the monorail ended on the knuckles of a Brotherhood scribe's power fist. As to Dry Wells, and the massive Legion Reinforcements there?

The mushroom cloud rendered a scouts' report moot.

No one really believed that Sallow was stupid enough to invite the courier to his camp. According to the legend, however, that's what he did, thinking he could sway the Courier to his own side with promises of power and wealth.

The legend goes on that the Courier and a vengeful NCR ranger walked in through the gates as welcome guests, only to murder the forces there to the last man. Sallow died, they say, begging. The Courier butchered him with his honor guard's machete, just like the livestock he chose as his symbol.

Sallow, it seems, had been right about what the Courier wanted.

That's pure myth-making, of course. The idea that an itinerant hero hopped up on chems and a vengeful NCR sniper could kill their way through an entire, alerted camp on their own is absurd, power armor or not. It was an obvious coup by Legate Lannius that he blamed on the Courier. It did him little good, as he ruled the Legion for mere weeks before the second battle of Hoover Dam.

Barely literate raiders in football pads and machetes do not fare well against against Vertibirds and Securitrons, it turns out.

They say that it ended there. With the heads chopped off the proverbial brahmin, the Legion crumbled from a collapse of leadership and operational control, with rival raiders, the NCR, and slave uprisings killing their 'empire' via a thousand cuts. That's the official story.

That's a bigger pile of crap than the one on the Aurelius's desk. The cut that killed the Legion was Nipton and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. The few survivors of the Legion's Hoover Dam forces thought the Courier would stay in their neon kingdom.

They did not.

They marched East, the Courier and their warriors: Arcade Ganon the Doctor of the Apocalypse, Lily the Nightkin who they call Shadow of Death, the Ghoul Gunslinger Raul who never misses, the Sniper Boone who never forgives, Veronica the fallen scribe, and Rose Cassidy? She's just plain ornery. They marched with a squad of twenty Securitrons at their back and an army of silent, deadly ghosts.

They marched through Arizona, severing Pheonix from settlement after settlement, starving the great bull before descending upon it. When Pheonix fell, they didn't stop. I know because that's how I'm free today. I know how Ceasar's Legion died. I saw one of its deaths with my own eyes in my own village.

When each Legion settlement falls, as the red-bull banners burn atop the naked corpses of those legionaries who make the same mistake Vulpes Inculta made so long ago and far away, the captured slavers that call themselves an empire are gathered in a line leading to the Courier's tent.

Each one is brought, in turn, to the Courier. They stand, a growling half-robot dog at their left hand, a laser-wielding eyebot at their right, as the ex-legionary is commanded to kneel. They obey, as the command comes from behind them. There stands Boone, a gun once belonging to Joshua Graham in his right hand.

There's a moment of silence. Just as the first beads of sweat begin to roll down the prisoner's face, the courier pulls up not a machete, nor a gun, but a simple wooden sign.

"Say it." The courier says-

-and listens for the wrong answer.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fanfic #the courier #caesar's legion #tales of revenge #vulpes inculta #you wanted me to tell people what happened there #unreliable narrator

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spacebarbarianweird · 1 month

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Monster

I left you all wondering what happened to Astarion's daughter in the end of The Tainted Past - so, here is the next part!

Synopsis: There is a monster within Alethaine Ancunín - a bloodthirsty beast she inherited from her vampire father.

And it's difficult to control.

Tags: dadstarion, trauma talk, dhampirs, hurt/comfort

Alethaine's age: 14 years old

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons I wanted to show this dark side of being a dhampir - that it's not this "oh so sweet, Astarion has a daughter". Astarion's daughter belongs to very a rare race and no one in the whole world can tell her what to expect from her own body and mind - and it comes with complications

The dead body has been completely drained. There are no wounds except for a ripped throat, as if an animal tore the flesh out.

Astarion kneels in front of the corpse. A human man in rags—probably just a bandit or a misfortunate adventurer.

“They think it was you,” Tiriel says, digging a grave.

“Darling, they should know that I wouldn’t hide a body. And I am not that messy,” Astarion easily picks up the corpse and puts it into the dug hole. “Well, I would also know if there was another vampire around. We are apex predators, after all.”

That’s why they were allowed to stay in Daggerlake. It’s always better to have a vampire of your own.

Astarion would know if a rival appeared in the area. He would catch their scent from miles away.

And Atsarion knows there are no vampires except for him near the Unicorn’s Rim.

“Do you think she could do it?” Tiriel finally asks.

Astarion doesn’t answer and takes his wife's hand. But he doesn’t know if he wants to assure her of something or if he needs to feel the stable ground himself.

Alethane, their dhampir daughter.

Three days ago she left to gather mushrooms in the hills. Astarion would never call himself a strict parent nor would Tiriel. Alethaine is allowed many more things than girls of her age are. But one of the rules she has to follow without excuses—never be outside the town walls after dark.

If she isn’t back home by sunset, Astarion immediately leaves to pick her up—and usually, they just meet each other halfway home.

Three days ago she wasn’t back by sunset. She wasn’t back an hour after it. By midnight, Astarion finally left to go looking for her, hoping she had either found something interesting in the graveyard or hung with someone from the town—they live under the surface and it is sometimes difficult to keep track of time.

Alethaine was nowhere to be seen.

What was worse, he couldn’t catch her scent anywhere. One of the things that make dhampirs so deadly for vampires is their invisibility. Astarion barely feels her presence when she is close.

Very unfair, considering Alethaine is one of two people he desires to protect.

“Do you think she could do it?’ Tiriel repeats. “Kill this man?”

“I don’t know.”

“But?”

“Well, there are no vampires around. His throat is mutilated and I don’t see any bite marks. But he has been drained by a bloodsucker, that’s for sure. But honestly, vampires and dhampirs aren’t the only creatures who—”

Tiriel touches his left ear to return him to reality. She looks composed and ready for battle. No one would think she is a mother whose child has been lost. But Astarion knows Tiriel wants to cry and scream deep inside—so does he.

But it won’t help. They need to find Alethaine. There are thousands of awful things that can happen to a fourteen-year-old girl.

“We need to go looking.”

Astarion nods.

They have been searching restlessly. Alone and with other townspeople.

And then they found a corpse.

It was a man in rags, with a rusty dagger at his belt. Devastated, with his throat torn open. No one recognized him, but Astarion could feel the strange looks his neighbors were casting at him.

The body reminded them of who Astarion truly was.

“Alethaine doesn’t drink blood,'' he says to Tiriel. “I don’t think she even knows how to do it!”

“Does it need a lot of practice? I mean, what happens if a dhampir drinks blood?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

Astarion sits on the ground as if suddenly it were difficult to walk. Three days. A lot of bad things can happen in three days. Yes, Alethaine is as strong as him. Yes, she has deadly fangs. But it just gives her some advantage. Chain her in silver (that leaves burns on her skin), beat her—break her bones, rip her clothes. And she is no different than any other little girl helpless in the hands of strangers.

Tiriel sits beside him. “Love, it will dawn soon, you need to go back home. I will keep looking.”

He puts his head on her shoulder. “Let’s move a bit further and I will return.” He feels tears burning his eyes.

It’s his fault. He should have gone looking for her immediately. And curse be the healer, why did she need those mushrooms that day?!

“If something happened to Alethaine—'' Astarion bares his fangs. “I will find everyone responsible and massacre them.”

“I will gladly join. But we need to go. Damn, what if the innkeeper is right in saying she just ran away? She is an elf after all! Don't we all suffer from wanderlust? I mean, how often do elven children run away? Even you… It is obvious you didn’t have relatives in Baldur's Gate and no one was looking for you. Maybe you ran away too? You just don’t remember!”

Tiriel tries to hide her fears and anxiety. Astarion knows her so well that he understands she is about to break down.

How many parents believe their dead children just ran away?

“Maybe she heard those shadows calling for her,'' Tiriel continues. “They just told her to go to some motherfucking Thay to fulfill some dark prophecy? If you are born a sorcerer, the source of your magic calls upon you.”

Astarion stands up from the ground and takes Tiriel's hand. Then he presses his forehead to hers.

“Then we are going to whatever place she went to, whoop her ass and then interrogate her on whether she did this on her own free will.”

“You really need to go home.”

“I will use the tunnels the moment morning comes. I won’t leave you alone.”

Tiriel kisses him and then walks forward into the forest.

When it gets so dark, even dark vision is of little help. Astarion feels a sense of unease.

He brushes the feeling away—just anxiety. Just fear. But the feeling intensifies—and Astarion draws his dagger.

Something evil is staring at him from the dark, something that can murder him on the spot. Something any vampire should be afraid of.

Tiriel sees it too.

She grabs Astarion’s hand and points among the trees.

“Astarion… Don’t fucking tell me it’s our daughter.”

Astarion looks to where she is pointing and freezes.

He should have found the cure before making a child.

The monster is on the loose.

Chained in the cage since the moment it was born, it is finally free.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

Such a divine substance is full of life and warmth. It makes the heart beat so fast. So many scents, so many colors, so many sounds.

The monster enjoys this world.

And wants to destroy it.

The first one was easy. Fangs pierced the artery and the monster ravished every drop of spilled blood. And the fear! It was so sweet!

Then there was a hunt. The monster feared going to the town—too many people were too dangerous. It was better to chase prey in the wild.

Hunt makes blood thicker.

The next one was found easily. He was sleeping and didn't even understand who killed him. Pity. He wasn’t afraid.

And then the sun appeared in the sky, and the monster felt out of place. The sun didn't hurt, but it was disgusting. The monster didn't like the sun and hid underground in dark tunnels full of small creatures, not as tasty as humans, but still nice.

Then it was the woods. And a few more victims. Scared, screaming. The monster was hungry. Unsatiated. No amount of blood could ease its starving.

The monster has been walking here for another day or two—hiding from the sun and enjoying the darkness. More blood. Sentient blood. To satiate it, to make it full. To destroy those mortal chains that dared to lock the monster in.

The monster catches a scent.

A vampire.

The monster squints. Undead blood is useless but how does it feel to kill another monster? Maybe it is going to be fun!

There is a mortal beside the vampire. Hot blood. Warm. Desirable.

This one is going to fight.

The monster bares its fangs and moves closer.

“Alethaine,” the mortal whispers. The vampire pushes her aside and stands between them.

The name is familiar. Something deep inside the monster stirs.

Alethaine. Alethaine Ancunin.

The monster hisses to shut this voice and jumps on the vampire. He easily throws the monster away from him and before it manages to stand up and attack again the mortal hits it with the hand of her ax.

As the monster lies in the dirt shrieking and screaming the woman presses her knee into the monster's back restricting its movements.

“Astarion, give me the rope!”

The vampire tries to tie the monster’s hands but his movements are clumsy, and his hands shake. The monster releases itself and bites the vampire’s hand.

The undead blood gushes into the monster’s throat.

It’s so bitter it makes the monster scream. It whines and whimpers like a beaten dog.

The vampire pushes the monster to the ground, grasping its throat.

“Alethaine,” his voice is soft and caring. “Alethaine, it’s us, mum and dad. We’ve found you. Please, Alethaine, return to us.”

The mortal crawls to them and restricts the monster's wrists. “Kitten, it’s us, we are taking you home. Astarion, take your hand away!”

“She will attack you!”

“Please, I know what I’m doing!”

The monster tries to bite the woman but she appears to be much stronger than a regular mortal should be and hugs the monster forcing its ear against her chest.

The heartbeat is so loud, so familiar…

Mother.

The realization hits the monster hard. It wants more of this warmth, more of this heartbeat…

But it’s not its to claim.

Tiriel feels how Alethaine’s muscles relax. Her own heartbeat restarts as the vampiric possession fades away.

Astarion caresses Aletaine’s back, ready to fight once again.

Suddenly Alethaine breaks the embrace and falls to the ground. She looks horrible—her silver hair is dark gray, face is covered in bruises, dirt, and scratches. Her dress is in rags, pale legs are bloodstained. Her feet are bare and her nails are all broken, as if she had to dig her way out from a grave.

The dhampir presses her legs against her chest and looks around like a scared kitten.

“Alethaine it’s us,” Tiriel touches her cheek. “It’s us.”

“Mum… dad…” Her voice is hoarse. “I am… sorry.”

Astarion hugs her and bursts into tears. Tiriel takes Alethaine’s hands in hers. “Thank gods you are alive.”

“I want to go home,” she whines. “Please.”

“Of course,” Astarion takes the cape off Tiriel’s shoulders. The cold air burns her bare skin.

Astarion wraps the girl in the fabric making sure her legs are covered and then takes her in his hands.

Their way home passes in silence. Alethaine is half-conscious in her father’s arms and both Astarion and Tiriel are too exhausted to talk. They have to take underground tunnels as the dawn approaches and Tiriel thinks she will never be able to walk in there without having flashbacks.

Astarion is too immersed in his own thoughts and Tiriel knows they will have a lot to talk about once Alethaine is taken care of.

“I will go fetch the healer,” Tiriel says once they see the town light in the distance.

“No!” Alethaine almost screams. “No. I don't want to! Please, I just want to go home!”

She cries, begging not to involve anyone else and Tirel gives up. Astarion doesn’t say anything.

An hour later, when they close the door into their house and Astarion prepares the bath for Alethaine, Tiriel has to suppress her exhaustion to do one more thing before collapsing on her bed.

...Alethaine sits motionless on a bench as Tiriel carefully takes the dirty rags of her. The dress is completely destroyed and Tiriel just throws it all on the floor.

Then she takes her daughter in her arms and carefully puts her into the water.

Alethaine is silent and just stares in the distance as Tiriel washes her hair and skin

Astarion approaches the closed door a few times asking if everything is alright. Alethaine flinches every time he does that and Tiriel asks him to go and prepare some food.

“Alethaine, Kitten, do you want to tell me anything?”

She shakes her head and hides her face. She resembles her father way too much. The same pale skin, the same facial features.

The same posture as Tiriel rubs her back.

Tiriel suppresses her desire to look at Alethaine’s inner thighs to see if she has bruises down there, a clear indication of an assault.

“Mum,” Alethaine finally says.

“What is it, Kitten?”

“How many people did I kill?”

Tiriel doesn't expect this question.

“I remember four,” she continues, “Including the one who attacked me”

Tiriel spills water on her hair. The dirt won't wash away.

“What happened to you?” Tiriel squeezes her thin shoulder. “What did he do to you?”

Please, Tiriel thinks, don't say you don't remember.

“Someone pushed me to the ground and tried to rip the corsage of my dress. I bit him. There was so much blood it gushed down my throat and then…I started drinking.”

Alethaine shivers and Tiriel sighs in relief. Well, the fucker got what he deserved. She hopes his death was truly painful.

“And that's all?’

“That's all. Then… I lost myself. And I killed. I wanted blood.”

Alethaine sobs.

“Kitten, it's all right. You are home, you are safe!"

“No! You don't understand! Mother, look at me! LOOK AT ME!” The dhampir jumps on her feet and almost falls back into the water. “I am a monster, an abnormality!”

Alethaine cries and pierces the broken nails on her scalp. “You shouldn't have given birth to me!”

She returns back to the water and keeps crying.

“But I did give birth to you,” Tiriel says and takes her hand in hers. “And I knew who you might be.”

Alethaine sniffs and flinches as Tiriel kisses her forehead.

Astarion bandages his wrist. The dhampir’s bite itches and the vampire is fascinated with the way his own wounded flesh looks. Instead of being healed in a blink of an eye, it still bleeds.

Alethaine makes him, Astarion, normal.

He can’t catch her scent, he can’t hear her if she whispers and it seems like her fangs don’t care about vampiric regeneration.

You shouldn’t have given birth to me…

The words he heard from upstairs stuck in his mind. Poor girl. Wasn’t it selfish of him to have a child when he was and is a vampire? It’s not like he deliberately impregnated Tiriel—who knew that the amount of blood he’d consumed aligned with the few days in a year when she, a half-elf, could conceive?

Astarion thinks he can hear Cazador’s laughter.

And how many of those kids are there? 7000 spawns released in the Underdark have probably fathered a few hundred kids within those thirty-four years. How many pale, bloodthirsty kids wander around Faerun, lost and disoriented, first of their kind with no one to tell them who they are and what they are supposed to do?

Lonely, scared children.

He hears footsteps and Alethaine enters the kitchen. She wears her house dress, as black as the rest of her clothes, and a shawl on her shoulders. Her silver hair is still wet but it has returned to its normal color.

Astarion puts the plate in front of his daughter and the girl immediately starts eating. She eats in silence like a person who has been starved for weeks.

“I am going to sleep,” Tiriel says.

“Don’t worry,” Astarion kisses her cheek. Thirty-four years and he still can’t have enough of this woman. “I will keep an eye on her.”

“The first man we found tried to assault her and she ripped his throat. She says she killed two more in the woods.”

Astarion feels a wave of rage. The bastard should be happy he died three days ago because he would have found a way to torture him.

When Astarion returns to the kitchen, Alethaine has already pushed the plate away and now stares at the herbal tea in front of her as if trying to see something in there.

“I am a monster who killed a few innocent people,” she says.

Astarion sits beside her.

“You must be ashamed of me,” she adds.

Astaron would sigh if he breathed. When Alethane was born he swore she would never learn anything about his past. This darkness must not affect her. But it seems like it was dumb to think he could father a dhampir and avoid talking about his own past.

“Alethaine, when I was enslaved, I wasn't just being locked in the dungeons of my master’s mansion,” he starts. “I had a mission. Vampire spawns don’t have free will. We were puppets. A word, a gesture—and we do anything.”

Alethaine looks at him with her raven-dark eyes. Astarion continues.

“My job was to bring him food.”

“What do you mean?”

“I would find a misfortune person—someone no one would look for. A stranger, a traveler, a drunkard. Anyone. And bring them to the mansion.” Astarion avoids the exact way he performed his duty. “When my master fed on them, they became spawns and he locked them in cells. I thought I was in hell all these centuries but I was at least lucky not to be confined. I murdered those people. I ruined them. At the beginning I cared, I—I felt bad. Tried to off myself by stepping into the sun and for that, I was flayed. Then I just stopped caring. I don’t remember most of them. When I met your mother, I cared only about my own safety—I needed her to help me to stay free,” he chuckles. “But instead I fell for her. And I had the worst nightmares—you see, your mother fits very well into the description of my regular victims. A stranger without a soul knowing her in Baldur’s Gate. A lonely traveler no one will look for. In another life, where the mind flayers hadn't wreaked havoc in the city, I would have found your mother in the inn in the Lower City and brought her to an eternity of pain and misery.”

Aletahine turns away. The information has shocked her, that's for sure

Astarion switches to Elven and tugs his daughter closer.

“Princess, I would lie if I said you were normal or nothing was odd with you. You are a dhampir, a very peculiar creature, half-undead. Your blood smells like mugwort, you crawl on the ceiling and your bites still bleed. But you are not a monster, if anything I am. You didn’t act on your free will. Like I didn’t. There is no point in torturing yourself. We don’t blame warriors for killing their brothers-in-arms when they were under the “dominate a person” spell. Again, I would lie if I told you I know what you are supposed to do with your nature, it’s up to you to decide. But whatever happened wasn’t your fault.”

“But I am dangerous!”

“So am I. But Tiriel has been sharing a bed with me for many decades; she gives me her blood when I need to, trusting that I won't take more than I need. Our neighbors accepted me in this town under the promise that I would only bite strangers. Every day I go outside and hunt. That’s my nature. Your mother goes into the wild ready to fight any enemy she meets—and that’s her nature. Yours is different. We didn’t choose what we are, you and me. I was turned against my will, you were born like that. Freedom is about the choices we make.”

They sit in silence and in complete darkness.

“Princess, do you want anything to make you feel better?”

Alethaine shakes her head. She needs to be alone with her thoughts.

Astarion goes upstairs and collapses on the bed beside Tiriel. She, deep in her sleep, clings to him.

“I love you,” he mutters into her half-elven ear and he thinks she smiles.

The sun is shining brightly over the Unicorn’s Rim. Its rays wash the land in its warmth and the young dhampir basks in the sunlight like a cat.

Alethaine felt restless in the quiet house after both of her parents went to sleep. Astarion was probably just laying beside his wife and was aware their daughter left home.

The dhampir opens her arms up. The nightmarish hunt and bloodlust feel like a distant fever, but she knows the monster is still down there, deep inside her mind, ready to go off the chain.

She needs answers.

Her father’s books have very few details about dhampirs and they're even incorrect.

Alethaine Ancunin needs to figure things out on her own.

Tomorrow, she will ask her parents to train her. To teach how to survive in the wilderness, to pick up locks, to fight, and to shoot arrows. And when she is ready, she will go away to find out what it truly means to be a dhampir.

She tilts her head up and sees the tiny silhouette of a dragon soaring high in the skies.

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