#vidri

the blood of a demigod - feat. my durge

Thank you for the tag @alliskit! This was a lot of fun <3

RULES: Take this test and post a picture of your blorbos with the couple they match best. Optional: add the extended list.

The Blorbos in Question: Vidri/Astarion

(i need to paint these two more often)

Y'know what...? I can see it.

I haven't read the books and I think I only watched one season of the show(?), but the vibe is there! The understated-yet-deadly ranger type drawn to the power-hungry, pretty hedonist <3

For reference, here are the top three matches.

Also

it is vitally important to me that you all know Astarion's highest character match was:

Lucille Bluth

(Vidri's was Kat from 10 Things I Hate About You)

Put those two together and we've got movie magic!!!!!!

///

“Come witness your new god."

Astarion/Durge, pre-canon AU

"Fuck Cazador Szarr. If he doesn't want to lose his toys, he should keep better track of them. You're mine now."

//

Astarion is captured by Bhaal's Chosen long before the mind flayers can get their tentacles on him. Desperate for freedom – in whatever form it takes – he follows the path to become an Unholy Assassin. 

Between bouts of bloodlust, a devilish heist, and a divine conspiracy, they slowly realize how much they’re alike.

Together, they could change the fate of the Sword Coast.

read it on AO3!

Thanks for the tag @shewhowas39, @dalgursbate, and @lyzelky! smooches to all of you <3

Here's a glimpse into the future of A Familiar Kind of Darkness 🔮

(btw this is not from the upcoming chapter lmao)

“That crumbly bastard forbids you to drink, but he didn’t say anything about tasting.” Vidri cuts her thumb and lets a bead of blood well up before presenting it to Astarion at eye level. He’s stopped breathing, so he doesn’t have to smell her, but his gaze is sharp and trained on the glossy droplet. Her blood domes up, wobbles, and spills over the side of her thumb. "You think I haven't tried that little mental trick in the past two centuries?" he scoffs, but speaking was a mistake. He breathes in from force of habit. His throat clicks. “Why not give it a try? Just one small lick and you can spit it out immediately. No drinking involved.” His attention follows the rivulet of blood tracing a path down her palm, but he remains otherwise motionless. He can’t initiate. Something in his edict prevents it. So she’ll move to him. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” she says. Then slowly, haltingly, she smears her blood over his bottom lip.