Within Our Dreams, We Wake

I have and I.T. savvy friend. Very driven, very brilliant in his field. He knew I was a writer and was excited to present me with his new program he made with me in mind. To "make it easier to write."

"Really? What is it? A super spell checker? Because I have a real issue putting letters together in the right order."

It was an AI generated scenario builder. It was a well made program. But I was heartbroken to see how encompassing it was. You typed in a few things and it built the entire story for you. Characters, their arcs, flaws, ambitions. Plot lines, pivots, action sequences. There was nothing left for the author to do but take it all and plop the pieces down like a puzzle to make it whole. It took away the entire creative process. He may have built it with me in mind, but he wasn't thinking about me as a creator. He inadvertently created something to replace me vs help me.

My first intrusive thought was to abandon my stories because my meat suit processors would never be able to come up with so much so fast. Eventually it would. After kicking around ideas, walking around talking to myself, writing down notes of sudden inspiration, stressing over if I was being true to fan fic character traits, trial and errors for months on end. But not instantly like this thing could. What was the point in continuing when he had just proven my methods to create were obsolete?

The best I could do was say "I'm glad it was a success for you. Its a good scenario creator for a table top D&D game. And I think those who would like to be considered a writer but don't have access to their own imaginations would find it useful."

Shitty nice.

I'm not shaming him for it. He didn't do it to be cruel. That is what he does. Creates AI programs. He was genuinely excited and believed it would be of use to me. Perspective being the multifaced thing that it is, he never stopped to wonder if it would be unsettling to someone who likes to create from scratch.

It feels like raw creative spirit is flickering out. Ready made and cranked out like Ikea furniture. Cheap and quick to satisfy. Never fully satiating the hunger of consuming something home made.

What my OC sees when his eyes glow with “garnet lust” in my fan fic.

Chapter 13: Sanctuary (snippet) 18+

Aww what were the odds they got lucky on lucky number 13. This chapter is mostly 8k worth of smut. No real break down other than they get down. Eventually. Because it's them and shit happens all the time.

It is highly detailed, in my opinion, so if you don't like to get too deep I would advise skipping this chapter. Also, I write elements of Ascended Astarion into Spawn Astarion because regardless of if he ascends or not those traits are still in him. And they are so much fun to explore.

Break down is: Love and smut.

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“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”  

“That?! Of all the things you could do. You couldn’t wait to bite me? I’m still not convinced you don’t have a serious brain injury.”

“I’m perfectly fine. Well, except for having an Ilithid worm in my head. And…well…gosh this is embarrassing.”

“What is?”

“I think I might have a crush on you.” She said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

His face brightened into a wide fanged smile.

“Really?! Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised. It’s to be expected. I mean, have you seen me?”

Aloria’s face scrunched in realization.

“Damn it! I knew we forgot something!”

“What?”

“The bag to put over your head. We can’t do this now.”

She dropped her arms and turned to walk away from him. His hand shot out to grab her and pull her back in.

His fingers danced across her body to the tune of rapid-fire admonishments. Her signature squeaky giggles flooded his ears as she turned in his arms and fought to keep his hands away from the places he knew would pitch her into a fit of laughter if he reached them.

He found joy in her silly nature where he often hadn’t tolerated it in anyone else. An unexpected side effect of being around her. One he hoped would last.

He pinned her against him with an arm around her ribs and nuzzled her ear.

“Putting your back to me is a deadly mistake my dear.”

“Is it?”

She arched her back to push her ass into his groin. Her hand wandered back to tangle in his hair. She was briefly reminded of the evening he had gifted her the cuff knife.

His hand wrapped around her neck. His breath was heavy against her ear.

“Taunting a vampire comes with its costs, my love.”

“And what will I owe?”

He ran his tongue firmly along the edge of her ear before pressing his lips against it. His voice was low and threatening.

Just a quick little story about how my OC handled the Oblodra situation in Moonrise Towers. I needed a break from my overly detailed 8K and rising smut chapter. Anyway. Enjoy!

Warning: Violence. Bullying and Strong language. 18+

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Araj stammered backwards into the table. Sending both her and various bottles clattering to the ground.

Aloria had a hand around her armor strap and was yanking her forward before the alchemist could process she was no longer standing.  

“Understand this you nepotistic, brain washed Underdark slag. These PEOPLE follow me because I have earned their trust and respect. Not because I was born with some bullshit name that demands it.”

“What is that supposed to mean to me you male sympathizing sun slut!?” She spat.

Aloria pushed into her space close enough she could smell the feted undertone Astarion had complained about.

“It means my clit is bigger than yours."

Araj shifted uncomfortably under Aloria's intense gaze.

"You so much a breath disrespectfully around any of those I protect, I will make it my new true soul purpose to give you more blood than you could ever hope to have. And you needn’t worry about the source...”

Aloria smeared a drip of blood that trailed down from a cut on Araj’s eyebrow across her lips and sneered as she recoiled from the taste of it.

“Because it will all be yours.”

Araj wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as Aloria released her and stepped back.  

“Now, apologize to him.”

The look she gave Astarion dripped with distain.   

“Apologize? To a slave? I’d rather die…”

Aloria had her bow loaded and fired before the Drow could finish the sentence. The arrow made a dull thump sound as it sunk into the rotten table close enough to her face to cut her hair.

"Sorry, hands a little sore."

The second arrow was already pulled and aimed slightly in.

“WAIT! DOMINA!” Araj shouted as she covered her face with her arm.

Aloria lowered the bow and waited.

“I’m sorry I was disrespectful to you, spaw...Astarion. I did not know you were an…equal.”

Astarion fidgeted. Unsure wither to be flippant or just accept to defuse the situation.

“Forgiven. But let this be a lesson that topside true souls do not bow to Drow traditions.”

Aloria grabbed Araj by her armor again and forced her to her feet. She took a moment to right her skewed breast plate then walked away. Leaving the Drow completely shaken and confused.

Aloria hadn’t planned on confronting the alchemist but the way she had spoken to Astarion had angered her to the point of blindness. She hated confrontation. But she hated people who felt entitled to just take what they wanted from others more.

She knew she did the right thing by defending her friends. But she was pissed that she even had to.

Standing up to others in such a direct way also left her with a surplus of adrenaline in her veins. The memory of setting justifiable boundaries only to be punished added to her anxiety and drove her need to be as far away from the stench of that tower as soon as possible.

She was on the verge of a panic attack and she didn't want her companions to see it.

"Some "hero" you are." She mentally chastised herself. "Running away from your own feelings. What a charlatan."

She was already back in the main hall when Astarion caught up to her.

“Well. That was certainly a show. Did you see her face? She really thought you were going to kill her."

“Mmmhum.”

She flexed the hand she had used to punch Araj. Using the pain to distract her from her wild emotions.    

Astarion didn’t have to ask if she was okay. He could smell that she wasn’t. The bittersweet scent of anger and fear rolled off her in waves.

Thinking better of continuing to use wit to defuse the situation like he always did, he dropped back and let her go.   

“Damn.” Karlach said, standing next to Astarion to watch Aloria ascend the stairs to leave. “I wish I had someone to lose their shit over me like that.”

“Odd that you assume that she wouldn’t have done the same if it was you.” Shadowheart said as she walked past them to keep Aloria in her sight.   “Yeah. I guess you are right. But that felt "personal" personal.”

Guilt rose in Astarion's throat like bile. That was the third time she had stood up for him. The third time she had proven she saw him as a person and not a thing to be used.

He couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t important to him anymore. Couldn't pretend that she only kept him around for his looks and sexual abilities. She didn't. And she deserved better.

Karlach bumped Astarion's arm with her elbow.

"Lucky fucker. Nothing to say about what just happened? Our leader just busted someone's chops for you."

Astarion said the only thing he could think of as Aloria and Shadowheart disappeared over the landing.

Chapter 12: Reclaimed (snippet)

Twelve is here. There was a chapter before this one but I could not figure out how to write it and not end up with three chapters. I might shove it in later who knows.

This the 6K the build up to the lay down. I need my smut to have a good foundation to get wrecked on so here it is!

Lets see. Break down is: this night after fight with Cazador, Aloria's underwear catches fire in the graveyard, they have an emotional misunderstanding. Aloria uses bullet points to explain to Astarion why his an idiot. And then they get naked.

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Aloria pushed herself up and swung her legs over the side to sit up. Her body read her the list of consequences for the fight from earlier with dull aches across the entirety of her body as she walked towards him.

She pulled at his ruffled shirt as it slid down her arms to expose her shoulders. It was too big for her to wear properly. But it was her only option for a nightgown. For whatever reason, their laundry was not back yet and the dress she had worn earlier was covered in too much crypt dirt to sleep in.

He reached out for her. Shifting his posture to open his legs and offering her a place between them.  

She climbed carefully into his lap. Tucking her hip in between his open legs draping her waist over his pelvis to rest her head on his chest. He adjusted slightly, bending his knee to allow hers to fold up against the back of his thigh. Wrapping her arms around his ribs to press her ear over his quiet heart as he kissed the top of her head.    

His fingers ghosted over the deep purple bruise that colored her cheekbone and eye. The remanence of an angry backhand from Cazador. If his heart could still beat, he was convinced it would have stopped the moment Cazador struck her. The sound of it cracked against the marble walls of the temple like thunder. It had sent a wave of nausea through him. Had she not taken the potion of Hill Giant Strength beforehand, the strike would have easily broken her neck. As it had broken his own several times in the past. Luckily, she walked away with only a cracked cheekbone and broken blood vessel that turned the sclera of her eye completely red. From a distance she looked like she was half possessed by a demon.

“You should let Shadowheart or Halsin do more healing work on you, little love.”

“I’m alright. I would rather they rest and focus their abilities on the others.”

“Of course you would. It was foolish of you to engage Cazador like that you know. Had he struck you with full force he would have done more than just crack your cheek bone. He would have shattered it. Or worse, snapped this precious neck of yours.”

Aloria smiled at the memory. Wincing at the dull ache in her jaw.

When the vampire lord had asked what someone as weak and pathetic as she was planned to do to stop him. Her answer of “I plan to rip your guts out through your ass hole and then stuff them back in through your mouth so you can taste how much shit you are full of.” had pissed him off rather spectacularly. It was a foolish move, but it distracted the ego maniac long enough for Gale to weave his magic and cast the spell Evard’s black tentacles on the waiting werewolves in the middle of the ritual circle and for her to cast dimensions door to move the length of the temple and pull Astarion out of the ritual circle.

 “Worth it.”  

 “That’s debatable." he grumbled. "But it got me out of that infernal spell trap so I suppose I shouldn’t complain.’

He murmured the spell for mage hand and sent the spectral hand across the room.

She could hear liquid being poured from a decanter from somewhere else in the room. But her comfort against the body of her love kept her too content to turn and look to see what was happening on the table behind them.

He shifted and offered her the glass the spectral hand brought back.

“Here, love. Drink this.”   

“Wine doesn’t sound very good right now.”

Astarion swirled the contents within the glass. Tiny flecks of magic glittered in the liquid.

“It’s not wine. It’s a healing potion mixed with pomegranate juice. I know you find the potion bitter by itself.”

Her heart fluttered at the thought he had archived such a random detail about her.

She pushed herself up and took the cup. After a few sips of the sweet contents, she offered it back to him.

He pushed it back towards her.

“All of it.” He commanded.

“I don’t want…”

“It’s not a request, love. Fulfill your need to be stubborn some other time. Drink it.”   

She shot him a sideways glance as she pressed the cup to her lips again. He made a face back as she swallowed the contents quickly. In her haste a dribble of juice escaped down the side of her mouth. As she reached up to wipe it away Astarion grasped her wrist and leaned in to catch the droplet with a lick and a kiss.

“Very good.”

Aloria’s ears flushed.

“It almost sounds patronizing when you say things like that.”

He took the cup and handed it to the mage hand to take away.

“I’m not patronizing you. I simply think you are too devoted to the idea that suffering is somehow noble. I assure you it’s not.”

He reached up and turned her head to inspect the bruise. It was already starting to fade from deep purple to green on the edges. Her eye seemed less red. He brought her face back towards him.

“When I offer you comfort, I expect you to take it. Not argue.”

Aloria softened.

“Fine. You win.”

“Naturally.”

“For tonight at least.”

He rolled his eyes.

You are seen. You are held. You are eternal. Let’s be the love we always wanted.