eluvion
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"Mm," Karlach says, grabbing a whetstone as she sits beside him. "I think we should get married."
Astarion chokes. Chokes again. Sets his glass down and continues choking. "Excuse me?"
"We should get married," Karlach repeats, like he simply hadn't heard her. "Pass the wine, will ya?"
The snow will melt in Baldur's Gate.
Series
- Part 1 of a wait for the future
Bookmarked by eluvion
19 Nov 2025
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caught between the dark and the dreaming by Raayide
Fandoms: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)
26 Jan 2024
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Marcus holds the goblet up, still stinking with klauthgrass, and ponders them, clutched in the wretched claws of his undead monsters. "Well," he says, and smiles. "If you will not willingly drink it, I have a manner of encouragement."
And then he raises his dagger, pricks his own wrist until scarlet pools over his pale skin, and lets blood drip into the goblet.
Before he can help it, Astarion stiffens.
Astarion has spent two hundred years with truth as a bitter enemy. Fitting, then, that his choice to say it is taken from him.
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- English
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- 18,925
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Bookmarked by eluvion
17 Nov 2025
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So here he is: a monster in the wilderness, a shadow crawling in the sun, trying desperately to be more than his nature. Than the terrified creature two centuries of torment shaped him into.
(Or Astarion reclaims his personhood, one fraught, determined step at a time. And with a little help along the way.)
Bookmarked by eluvion
16 Nov 2025
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It's been a year since Tim came back to Gotham after his trip around the world to save Bruce. When he goes missing, Dick takes a look into his laptop looking for clues, and instead finds something that will shatter everything he knew about himself and his relationship to his estranged brother. Carefully constructed lies to protect himself are brutally smashed to pieces by the video he finds and he wonders if he can ever make up for all the ways in which he hurt Tim.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,518
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Bookmarked by eluvion
12 Nov 2025
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Summary
Tim was always holding his breath. Waiting. Filled with anticipation.
He'd spent most of his childhood that way, alone in Drake Manor hoping his parents would come home soon, crouched behind air conditioning units on top of buildings for the bats to fly by, sitting at a school desk watching the clock more sharply than paying attention to a teacher, clipping film to clothesline to dry and hoping he'd gotten a good shot. So Tim had made a game of it. He'd try to hold his breath for as long as he could while completing a task, just to see how far he could get.
It was easy for simple things, like doing dishes or math problems. It was much, much harder for others. But some things? Some things it made exquisite.
Bookmarked by eluvion
12 Nov 2025