Gale Is Also 💯 The MVP Of This Chapter. He May Not Be Getting The Romance Partner Role In This Fic,

So gorgeous

Astarion, painted using Procreate on the iPad 🎨

Look at this handsome lil devil!! 😈

I spent the last two weeks crocheting a Raphael doll so here he is in his insufferable smugness. He's around 9 inches/24 cm tall.

I freehanded him but I'm considering writing down the pattern... If you're interested, keep your eyes peeled for that. It's not super technical, just very long.

A very polite gentleman.

"Alone on a Friday night? Pathetic."

"Get yourself a date, loser."

Some details below the cut

If you fail to persuade the spawn that attacked at night

Leon: Stand with the runt of the kennel? The one who always whimpered while he got beat? Save us? That lickspittle only ever wanted to save himself - the rest of us be damned. You were always weak, brother. We don't follow weak. 

See this is the reason why I don't care for the other spawn. Fuck the 7k spawn and fuck these guys, too.

Yes I know Astarion is ready to sacrifice them, too but can you really blame him? This is obviously how they talked to him when he was controlled by Cazador. They saw him as weak and unimportant.

It is incredible Astarion actually can manage to say no to revenge on all of them and he can turn down the power from the ritual. It takes a lot of strength to do that.

The Embrace of Love and Death - A Short Rest: All Tied Up and Nowhere to Go

This short rest takes place between chapters 6 and 7 of The Embrace of Love and Death! Catch the full fanfic here

Lae’zel had been glaring at them from across camp all afternoon, Miss Fortune noticed. That wasn’t unusual by itself, but her facial expression was what caught their eye. In place of the usual disdain, she seemed to be trying to dissect them, as if they were a mystery she was trying to solve.

They suspected it had something to do with how easily they’d gotten out of her rope bindings yesterday, as she had scowled when they remarked on her shoddy ties. Reveling in their growing confidence as a leader and fighter, they decided to give her a hard time.

“You’re giving me a different grimace than usual, General,” they said with smug satisfaction as they ambled over to where she was whacking away at her training dummy. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you can’t stand the thought that I’m better than you at something.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said tersely without pausing in her maneuvers.

“It’s eating you up inside how quickly I got out of those ropes, isn’t it? You want to know how this pathetic little soft boy did it.”

“Chk. Perhaps,” she conceded.

“I could tell you, but it would be more effective to show you. Taking hostages hasn’t been our style so far but any of us should be able to if the need arises.”

“You speak sensibly.” Lae’zel lowered her fists and cocked her head, considering. “Show me.”

Miss Fortune knew that smiles didn’t get far with Lae’zel, so the half-elf simply turned on their heel and walked off, beckoning her to follow with a wave.

“Meet me around the fire pit. I’m going to see if the others would also like a demonstration.”

Shadowheart and Astarion both accepted the invitation, though Miss Fortune suspected their primary interest was to watch Lae’zel get humbled. Gale declined as if he found the whole idea of physically binding another human repulsive. Seeing as he could accomplish the same effect with magic they couldn’t quite blame him.

“All right, I’m going to demonstrate on you first, Lae’zel. So you can see for yourself I know what I’m doing. Hands behind your back,” Miss Fortune instructed once everyone had assembled.

Lae’zel crossed her arms in front of her chest, unmovable as a boulder.

“I guess you don’t want to learn after all. False alarm, friends, let’s disperse,” they said to the others, fatigue creeping into their voice.

“Chk. Fine,” Lae’zel relented.

“A wise choice, General.” Miss Fortune uncoiled the length of rope they’d grabbed from their tent, silently lamenting that they didn’t have silk cord. She would never be able to rip through that with brute strength. Instead, they had to make do with the limited bounty of what they’d scavenged so far on their adventure.

The half-elf made quick work of cinching the rope around her wrists in a tight figure eight pattern. “The trick - which you failed to do with me and Astarion - is to ensure the rope sits below the thumb joint,” they explained. Shadowheart and Astarion sidled over and leaned in to observe.

Miss Fortune continued wrapping the rope tightly before double-tying the knot higher up, well out of the reach of the Githyanki’s fingers. “You don’t want to leave any room for prying fingers to find purchase, or you’ll come back to an empty chair, room, what have you. Normally I’d bind the ankles too, but this will suffice for a beginner’s demonstration. Now, try to get out.”

She tried grasping at the rope first with her fingers, then attempted to wriggle her wrists loose. Her face contorted with rage and she began to swear when she realized she could find no purchase with her bindings. Miss Fortune took several steps back, crossing their arms over their chest and grinning like a fox who had just snared a rabbit. They took sadistic pleasure watching her struggle for once.

“Just imagine if I had tied your arms behind a tree or perhaps to a chair,” Miss Fortune mused cruelly. They chose to mimic Astarion’s languid pose and bored expression, pretending to inspect their nails as they spoke. “In that scenario I would have bound you at the waist and ankles as well, and you’d be a lost cause by that point. And if I really wanted to make sure you stayed put, I’d gag you too. Maybe even tie your ankles and hands together. Can never be too careful, can we?”

“Tsk’va, you’ve made your point,” Lae’zel spat, still wriggling wildly like a worm freshly dug up from the ground. “Untie me now!”

Miss Fortune drew closer, their expression darkening as they stared down their nose at her. “I don’t think I have yet. I’m tired of you calling me a ‘soft boy’ like it’s something I should be ashamed of. Keep it up and next time I tie you up, I’ll leave you like that. Do we have an understanding?”

Loathing danced in the Githyanki’s eyes as she glowered up at them. Her shoulder looked about ready to dislocate as she continued to struggle to make progress with the ropes, as if popping her arm out of its socket were preferable to conceding defeat. Knowing her, it probably was.

“Remember I don’t heal stupidity, Lae’zel,” Shadowheart called out.

Miss Fortune looked over their shoulder to shoot a grin Shadowheart’s way. Their eyes locked and she nodded, returning the grin with a wicked smile of her own. The half-elf rogue glimpsed over at Astarion as well, and their chest felt a touch lighter when they saw approval in his ruby gaze.

“We have an understanding,” Lae’zel rasped at last, tearing Miss Fortune’s attention away from the vampire.

“Wonderful!” Miss Fortune made quick work of untying her, making sure to step back quickly with the rope stretched between their hands to create a barrier in case her anger got the best of her. The warrior stretched her arms and rubbed her sore wrists but otherwise made no move to lunge for her antagonist.

With the demonstration-turned-warning complete, Miss Fortune spent a while longer showing everyone how to replicate what they did to Lae’zel on each other until everyone felt confident they could remember how to do it on their own.

“Class dismissed,” Miss Fortune announced. “I hope you all enjoyed rope play for beginners. Now I believe Astarion and I have a date in the woods with whatever animal is unlucky enough to encounter us. See you later, ladies,” Miss Fortune added with a wave as they casually sauntered off. Astarion followed close behind.

When they were out of earshot, the half-elf leaned in and murmured mischievously to the vampire “If you play your cards right, someday I might give you the more advanced lesson.”

Astarion guffawed in delight. “Is that a promise or a threat, little bird?”

“Both.”

The Embrace of Love and Death, Chapter 6: From Liability to Menace

Chapter Summary: Astarion and Miss Fortune are rudely awoken by sacks being thrown over their heads as they are spirited away for a final test of their combat skills. They must work together using a blend of stealth and brutality to free themselves before time runs out. Should they succeed, the companions will be able to resume their adventures. Fail, and Lae’zel threatens to gut them and take Miss Fortune’s role as leader.

Read the full chapter on AO3!

Excerpt:

The ropes binding Miss Fortune’s hands behind their back cut into their wrists as they squirmed to get free. They had no idea where they were. Several minutes ago they’d been awoken suddenly this morning to a sack being thrown over their head as Lae’zel pulled them roughly to their feet. Their reward for several days of hard training, she explained, was a final test. Pass, and she’d declare both them and Astarion as no longer being liabilities, and they could get back on the road looking for a cure. Fail, and she’d gut them both and lead Gale and Shadowheart onwards herself before their bodies even had a chance to grow cold.

“No, no, this is just a friendly assessment,” Gale had interjected. “The only negative consequences for failing will be extra training!”

Miss Fortune was led forward with a rough hand against the back of their head for some ways until the hand gripped harder, stopping them. Someone else pushed them down into a chair and bound their hands behind their back.

“Your armor and weapons are in the room with you,” Lae’zel began.

“Room…? Where have you taken-“

“LISTEN, istik! You will free yourself, arm yourself. Astarion is already in your same predicament somewhere else nearby. You must find one another and fight your way out before Gale’s illusion spell wears off. Understand?”

“I have so many questions, foremost being ‘What the fuck?’ But sure, I understand the general instructions,” Miss Fortune had groaned. Their companions must have grabbed them early because they were so exhausted they could barely process the situation. Their suspicions were confirmed when Lae’zel tugged the hood off of them and they saw that dawn was only just beginning to break. “This couldn’t have been a midday test?”

Lae’zel elected not to answer that last question, instead turning on her heel to leave and motioning for Gale to follow. They shimmered out of sight as they presumably left the range of whatever illusion spell Gale had woven.

This left Miss Fortune alone and bound, but knowing this was an illusion helped stave off any panic. They wondered if the companions had grabbed Astarion first and then come back for them or if they’d left poor Shadowheart to “capture” him on her own.

A smile tugged at their mouth as they imagined how absolutely livid the vampire must be right now. Interrupting his beauty trance? Messing up his hair with that awful sack? Risking a broken nail to wriggle free of the ropes? They could picture his scowl and the vitriol spewing from it so clearly in their mind. The image of threats of violence issuing forth from such a beautiful man was delicious, especially seeing as they would be directed at other people and not them. Focus, they scolded themselves. You can daydream later.

Miss Fortune never thought they’d be glad for their history as a courtesan in their new life, but as luck would have it they were well-versed in the art of rope play. A wicked smile spread across their face as they tested the bindings. Lae’zel would have to try harder than that to keep them tied up. After all, they’d had their entire body intricately trussed and bound more times than they could count - oftentimes while suspended from the ceiling - and they’d been taught to find their way out of any ties. They were free from Lae’zel’s shoddy knots in no time at all.

The half-elf made a mental note to teach her how to do a better job tying up prisoners after this. Or better yet, to make sure they always did it themselves.

Once they had dressed and armed themselves, the next step was to survey their surroundings. Gale’s sage advice from the last few days replayed in their head: deep breaths, take time to note your exits and your advantages, use all your senses. They were in a small stone room with slits for windows and one door. The only things inside were the chair, the chest their gear had been in, and themselves. Which was to say, not much to take in. Putting their ear against the door, they paused. At first, they heard nothing. But then came the sounds of footsteps drawing nearer - it sounded like two sets.

They waited and listened, breathing as quietly as possible, as the footsteps passed right by their door and then began to recede on the far side of it. Some kind of patrol then, it seemed. Once the sound had completely faded, they took a chance opening their door. Relief flooded their veins when they found it unlocked. That would save them time and reduce the chances of getting caught mid-lockpicking.

The door opened into a short hallway with two other doors to the left of theirs. Clinging to the wall they crept over to the middle door, once again cupping an ear against it to listen inside. No sounds of struggle inside, so they moved on. Miss Fortune felt thoroughly confused when they got to the last door because they could smell Astarion’s perfume - Rosemary, bergamot, and a touch of brandy, he’d recently revealed - before they even reached the door.

Lae’zel had mentioned that this was some sort of elaborate illusion Gale wove. Could the perfume smell be part of it, designed to trick them into opening the wrong door? No, they decided. They hadn’t ever noticed Astarion and Gale in close enough contact for the wizard to replicate the vampire’s scent this well. Putting an ear to the door revealed shuffling sounds, confirming their hunch that Astarion was behind door number three.

Hearing distant footsteps once more, they quickly ducked inside Astarion’s room and shut the door as quietly as possible. The sight that greeted them was one they hoped they could commit to memory. The vampire was on the last clasp of his padded armor, muttering what sounded like foul Elvish curses under his breath. His hair was a beautiful mess with curls going in every direction, but the best part was his facial expression. His eyebrows were downturned slashes over his fiery eyes, and his mouth was twisted into a livid grimace; the very paragon of anger. It took everything Miss Fortune had to stifle their laughter; this was even better than they had imagined.

Read from chapter 1: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298?view_full_work=true

The Embrace of Love and Death

Welcome to the first chapter of my fanfic, “The Embrace of Love and Death”! When rogues Astarion and Miss Fortune (OC) get abducted from Baldur’s Gate and infected with mind flayer tadpoles, they both become “conveniently lost” from their troubled homes. As they grapple with their past traumas they find companionship, healing, and eventually love and renewed purpose in each other. Will getting a mind flayer parasite inserted into their eyes wind up being the best thing that ever happened to them? This slow burn tale of romance, sex, and healing will reveal the answer to that in due time.

Prefer to read on AO3? Gotchu covered right here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298#main

Chapter 1: Fresh off the Nautiloid

The sun was beginning to set on a day so bad that calling it a nightmare would be about as euphemistic as calling a raging owlbear a hungry house cat. One moment Miss Fortune had been trailing their mark through an alley in the slums of Baldur’s Gate, and the next they were abducted into a nautiloid, strapped in a mind flayer pod with a tadpole burrowing into their brain. They’d met that green woman, rescued a cleric named Shadowheart from her mind flayer pod, fought screeching imps, and then crashed the whole damned ship into who-knows-where. They had no idea how they survived the ordeal, but the screaming pain in their head didn’t give them much hope that their luck would last.

They’d never even been outside of Baldur’s Gate before, and now they were lost in the wilderness with two strangers. They’d lost sight of the green woman after the crash, found Shadowheart outside, and met a handsome, effeminate high elf with blindingly pale skin who’d tried to slit their throat on sight. The elf’s name was Astarion, and while they’d talked him down from violence and convinced him their odds of survival were better together, the half-elf rogue resolved to keep an eye on him. Not that they could fully blame him for the attempted murder; had the roles been reversed, they probably would have done the same. But still, they much preferred their blood inside their body.

Miss Fortune couldn’t for the life of them understand why their new companions were already looking to them like some kind of leader. While they were used to people gravitating to them in more mundane settings due to their good looks and charismatic persona, those skills hardly felt useful out here. What the hells did they know about anything real? They’d have to fake it, they realized.

“Sun’s going down, and this spot looks as safe as any to set up camp,” they said with feigned confidence. The companions nodded, set down their packs. Still they looked at Miss Fortune, waiting for instructions. “Err…do either of you know how to start a fire?”

“Gods, this is hopeless!” cried Shadowheart. “Have you never camped before?! No matter, I’ve done it plenty. Watch and learn, gentlemen, because I won’t be doing this by myself every night. I’m not your camp mother.”

Shadowheart walked the others through the process of setting up camp, showed them how to catch fish from the river and impale them on sticks to cook over the fire she started. Miss Fortune stumbled over their actions, and Astarion was even more helpless - but they managed, and they had places to sleep and food to eat by the time the sun winked out of the sky.

“So, Miss Fortune is an interesting name,” Shadowheart said cautiously between bites of fish and the other rations in their packs. “Did you come up with that on your own?”

“I did,” they replied. “I don’t like to take myself too seriously.”

Astarion snorted. “Really? I never would have guessed.”

“Why ‘Miss Fortune’ if you’re…well, you know,” Shadowheart pressed, gesturing to their masculine body.

The half-elf was about 185 centimeters tall and lanky to the point of looking underfed, but their lean frame had the buds of muscles beginning to form from the last couple moons they’d spent running with the city’s thieves guild. Their tan skin was sprinkled with freckles over the slight bent of their nose and high, prominent cheekbones. They had raven-black hair with violet highlights that was shaved at the sides while the long top was pulled into a tight bun at the back of their head. A purple-inked tattoo of three swallows swooped out of their hairline, fluttering across their left temple, and despite the harrowing day they’d had, the berry-colored lip stain and angled purple eyeshadow they donned each morning remained fairly well intact.

Miss Fortune worked hard to cut a visage that danced the line between masculine and feminine, though they often found themselves shackled with the ill-fitting label of ‘man’ by strangers who could only see the world in terms of this or that. All of which was more than the rogue was willing to explain to someone they’d just met.

“It suits me,” they said instead. “To my foes, an encounter with me spells their misfortune. And to my friends, well…I can only hope they feel fortunate to know me. And besides, everyone knows luck is a lady.”

“I can go with that,” Shadowheart agreed. “If not for you, I would have had the misfortune of staying stuck in that mind flayer pod. Though I hope you and our pale friend here will be able to hold your own out here. You both strike me as pampered city boys, judging by your lack of survival skills and soft hands.”

“I’m a city person, yes, but I would hardly consider myself pampered,” Miss Fortune replied. “Not everyone works with their hands, you know.”

“Yes, some of us work with our minds,” Astarion chimed in. “I’m a magistrate back in the city. All terribly boring work I assure you, though I can handle myself with a dagger.”

Having finished their fish and rations, Miss Fortune looked over at Astarion as he spoke and noticed him slowly pushing his food around the plate without eating.

“Food not up to your standards, your honor?” Miss Fortune jabbed. “I’ll take whatever you don’t want.”

“Oh, by all means enjoy,” Astarion said, handing the plate over. “This is hardly the fare I’m used to.”

“So, how about you, Shadowheart?” Miss Fortune changed the subject while shoveling Astarion’s food into their mouth. “You mentioned you’re a cleric - you from The Gate?”

“I am, and I’ll be headed back not a moment after we find a cure. I’ve something very important waiting for me back home.” Shadowheart’s facial expression darkened; Miss Fortune sensed it was a touchy subject and wondered if it had anything to do with that strange artifact she carried. She’d been dodgy when they asked her about it after they reunited on land.

“Impatient to get back to a lover, perhaps?” they jested.

“I don’t see how that’s your business, but no, and we’ll leave it at that” she replied.

“All right, all right, we girls all have our secrets,” they said, crossing their legs and miming tucking an invisible strand of hair behind their ear. “Anyway, thanks for showing us how to set up camp. I’ve got cleanup.”

The trio each went their separate ways after dinner; Shadowheart and Astarion heading to their respective tents, Miss Fortune down to the river bank with the dirty dishes and a rag. As the half-elf knelt by the river scrubbing away, their senses were assaulted by all the unusual sounds and smells surrounding them. They were used to the din of pedestrians day and night, the hawking of vendors and clopping of horse hooves on cobblestones. There were always sounds and scents in the city, and even when they were unpleasant their presence was oddly comforting. Out here in the dark with all these new sensations, they found themselves feeling utterly alone and insignificant.

Another familiar and unwelcome sensation began to coalesce at the edges of their consciousness, as if their head were filling up with a swarm of angry bees. It happened often enough that the half-elf knew they didn’t have long before their mind assaulted them and robbed them of rational thought. They quickly finished their cleanup duties and rushed back to camp, placing everything in a neat stack by their packs. By this point, Miss Fortune’s lips and the tip of their nose had started to tingle, their chest felt tight, and the buzzing feeling in their head had intensified to a dull roar.

This can’t be happening right now, they thought to themselves. Please, please not now. For a devout person this would have been the time to begin praying, but Miss Fortune knew it was pointless; no god had ever deigned to answer before.

Perceived danger lurked in every corner, every shadow of the camp. Frantic and woozy, the half-elf began to search for a place that would be out of both Astarion and Shadowheart’s line of sight. They ducked behind a large rock that seemed to fit the bill and let their trembling legs give out beneath them. Crumpled into a ball, their breath grew shallow and ragged as a world of nightmares clawed into their thoughts.

Everything is terrible. I’m going to die out here, Miss Fortune’s thoughts screamed at them. I can’t do this, I can’t survive whatever those monsters did to me on the ship. We’ll never find a cure. I’m going to turn into a grotesque mind flayer, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. My life is over. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die! And I can’t do anything to stop it…I’m too weak…I’m going to die all alone. Utterly unloved. And nobody will miss me. Worst of all, I deserve this. I’ve never done anything worthwhile with this pathetic life of mine, not once in these miserable 28 years.

Tears rushed out and streamed down their face in an ugly, snotty mess as the panic fully gripped their mind. A gulping cry escaped their lips in defiance of their efforts to fall apart quietly, which only made them wish to hide somewhere further away from their new acquaintances.

“Is…something the matter?” they barely heard a cautious man’s voice call out. “Why, you’re positively shaking!”

Miss Fortune buried their face in their knees. “Please, don’t look at me,” they sobbed.

“I…should I leave?” Astarion asked.

“Go ahead. I’m…fine,” the half-elf lied.

“I’m not stupid, you are clearly not fine.”

“The Ma—my old boss always told me I’m just overly dramatic. I’m having a dramatic episode, as she used to call it.”

He’s going to hate you now too, the negative thoughts intruded. Not even a full day in and you’ve shown just how weak and pathetic you are.

Astarion stood there in dumbfounded silence as he watched Miss Fortune gulp for air, seemingly unsure whether to approach or wipe his hands of the whole situation and return to his tent.

“You should try this thing called breathing,” he called out eventually. “In, out…in, out…surely you know how it works.”

While the tone was condescending, it struck a cord. Miss Fortune focused on their breath between sobs, inhaling slowly through their nose and exhaling through their mouth. It took several long moments, but the angry bees began to fade and the maelstrom of negative thoughts receded along with them. Their chest still felt tight, their eyes ached, and as the last of the panic ebbed they were left with the usual crushing exhaustion; the usual collateral damage when they lost a war with their mind. Their body posture slackened as they heaved a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” they mumbled into their knees. “I’m not usually this weak, I swear. It’s just been a hell of a day.”

“…you should get some rest,” Astarion replied, his voice deadpan and unreadable. “I’m not feeling tired just yet, so I’ll keep watch over you and the camp.”

Miss Fortune rose unsteadily to their feet, lurching to the side as their knees threatened to buckle. They recalled the flash of steel against their throat hours earlier; were they less drained from their mind’s attack they would have laughed at the irony of his offer.

“Thank you, I’ll feel better knowing you’re watching over us,” they lied instead. “Goodnight, Astarion.”

“Goodnight, Miss Fortune,” he replied coolly.

It was all the half-elf could do to keep from hurting themselves as they collapsed onto their bedroll. Despite their misgivings about Astarion, they were too tired to keep their eyes open. And if he slit their throat in the night, well, they probably deserved it anyway.

How do you think he found out about his not-so-dark-but-still-weird urges.

*struggles while writing* i suck and writing is hard

*remembers some ppl use ai* i am a creative force. i am uncorrupted by theft and indolence. i am on a journey to excellence. it is my duty to keep taking joy in creating.

Astarion’s simple plan

A very low effort meme for you all today