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dreamingcricket · 8 months

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Hi Cricket! I soaked up your Tav/Halsin snippet, about them being injured and shrugging off Halsin's advances, it's absolutely sweet! I kindly request another Tav/Halsin if you don't mind... My Tav is a naive little sunshine and as a tiefling bard loves to dance, sing along and play on her fiddle, I imagine her having skirts that flow around her feet whenever she danced and plays around camp or inn's for some coin. Halsin being in love with Tav and like totally unable to hide it and it's obvious to everyone but Tav themselves. I would love for him to join her dancing, maybe something slower, more intimate with meaningful touches. He loves seeing her so at ease in rare moments like this, even when he's a clumsy dancer. 🤭

I'm so happy people are enjoying these!

Halsin was unused to revelry.

He couldn't speak for every druid, of course, their kind ranged far and wide in both calling and temperament, but the Emerald Grove was prone only to subdued rites. He certainly couldn't fault the refugees for wanting to release some tension, however, and he wanted to show his appreciation to the small band that had saved him and his grove alike. Her, especially.

And of course she was at the center of it all.

She reminded him of a celestial center, the hub of a wheel around which everything else turned. She glowed in the firelight, all orange and gold and purple, skirts flying as she fiddled. Music seemed to follow her everywhere. She danced like water, one pattern to the next without pause. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

“You’re staring.” Shadowheart was difficult to read, as she appeared behind him, goblet in hand. He couldn't tell if her observation was meant to be an admonishment or not.

“I know.” He was usually reserved, if not stoic, and his developing feelings bubbling to quickly to the surface was alarming, but it would do no good to deny it.

"We all know. You're not subtle, Halsin."

His attention was drawn back to Tav as she laughed. The sound was like the sun on his face.

Shadowheart followed his gaze. “Nobody blames you, Halsin. But she should know.”

“I don’t want to rush her.”

“Under any other circumstances, I’d agree. But we’re running out of time, and…” She shakes her head, clearing the morbid thought. “Just… everyone knows.

She finishes her number with a bow, and yields the stage to Alfira, who begins to pluck a lively tune. Her eyes lock onto Halsin’s and she bounds over, holding out her hands.

“Come, dance with me?”

He could feel the eyes of the camp upon him. Knowing. Halsin coughed. “I’m not much of a dancer. I may trample your feet.”

“That doesn't matter!” She giggled, and leaned in conspiratorially. “Everyone’s too drunk to notice anyway.”

Suddenly, she was pulling on his hand, tugging him to the wide patch of dirt that served as a dancing circle in the middle of camp. His heart hammered against his ribs, and it wasnt from embarrassment.

He could vaguely recollect the steps, some hazy memories of his youth floated back to him as they began to whirl. A tavern dance, not refined in the slightest, but light and fast, more momentum than intent. While there was something to be said for his particular brand of ursine grace, it didn't lend well to dancing, and he let her lead. Her hands were so small in his, and she flitted around him, almost birdlike.

“You’ll have to slow down, Tav, I’m not as young as I used to be.”

She giggled, twirling under his arm. “I think you’re a fine dancer.”

“The wine has apparently gone to your head, as well.”

“Perhaps. Or maybe it's just good company.”

The music slowed, and their pace changed. They circled each other, hand in hand. She held his gaze, not defiantly, but with tender trust. He hoped beyond hope he wasn't reading too far into her gaze.

There was an ease to her here he hadn't seen before. The weight she carried throughout the battle at the goblin camp (and how fierce she had been, she had torn through their ranks like a diving hawk) had seemingly lifted. She wasn't a warrior, her hands were gentle as they gripped his, and so small. He loved her already, but even more so like this, when she was unburdened.

He wondered if this was what she was usually like, sans tadpole. There’s a terrible pang in his chest at the thought: that her days were numbered, that she might be doomed. It's quickly followed by a wash of righteous fury. It wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let it.

She stepped in close. Their palms pressed together, chests nearly touching, and he nearly stopped breathing. She was so close, if he only leaned down, their lips would touch. He was halfway to her, his rational brain screaming to stop and his instincts screaming to kiss her until she couldn't breathe.

And then she pulled away, dropping into a curtsy. The song was over.

There was already a buzzing flock of people vying for her attention. Halsin released her hand and bowed out of the center of camp, excusing himself as she leaped onto a rock to begin a new number.

It had been a long, long time since anyone had made him feel this way.

He rolled into the grass, reveling in the coolness against his heated skin, and prepared to trance.

Halsin smelled her before he saw her. Lilac and honeysuckle and musk, and the scent of the open road. She moved to lay beside him in the grass, and whispered, "Can I join you? Everyone is quite drunk, Karlach is sleeping in my tent for some reason, and I’m getting really tired."

"Of course."

He didn't expect her to nestle into his side, his heart began to hammer in his chest, his skin became hot.

She gazed upwards, and pointed into the sky, at a smattering of stars. "That's the huntsman." Her hand drops back down. "At least I think it is. We didn't have much time for stargazing at home, and the city lights are so bright. But here? I feel I can see every single one."

Halsin pointed upward himself, “The… spine of the dragon? I realize… I don’t know exactly how to say it in common, that’s as close as I can get.”

She hummed. “I can see it. With the wings, there.” She gestured lazily, and he became aware of how close she was for the second time that night. He was less intimidated by his own feelings here, without the watchful eyes of the party, and only the music of night time insects, the grass rising around them like a shelter. She turned her face toward him, blinking slowly, and clearly holding back a yawn. “I think… I’ll just sleep here.”

“That’s fine by me.”

The rhythm of her breathing slows and evens out, and he brushes a stray lock of hair away from her cheek, running his thumb over the apple of her cheek.

Tomorrow, she would take up her burdens again. She would brave her future with the noble ferocity he had come to admire, he was sure, but he would miss this carefree night.

Whatever it took, he’d ensure she had many more to come.

#baldurs gate 3 #halsin x tav #halsin #bg3 x reader #bg3 #halsin romance #ask

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bananasfosterparent · 18 days

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Recent Playthrough Updates #3

🍃🦌Enyana the Dryad

She's slowly getting through. Still stuck in Act 1 but steadily moving forward. Currently rescuing Halsin! Her romance with Gale is also going well so far uwu

I changed some details about her visually. Gave her pale yellow eyes that are more "human" just because Dryads seem to have glowy yellow eyes and I'm too lazy to find a mod to do that SO pale yellow "human" eyes it is! Lol plus this makes her easier to cosplay for my local Ren faire and get accurate

Also changed her hair and adjusted the colors!

🌑☠️Nordicai the (resist) Durge

Smoochie time! 🖤💜

Nordicai has been charmed by a pretty lady and doing what he can to enjoy their time together. He kissed Shadowheart and whatever else that lead to lol he also lied to her about his past because he simply can't remember it of course...but I think SH knows how that feels.

He's still trudging through Act 1 as well and just got the Necromancy of Thay.

He was also finally bitten by Astarion lol Nordi doesn't have Astarion in his party so when he met the Gur, he told Astarion who of course denies being a vampire spawn. But Nordi being Nordi... He believed it. Imagine his surprise when he wakes up to Astarion's fangs. He didn't let him bite but is sympathetic towards his hunger. He can understand that all too well.

Also I changed his horns so now they're like cool, glowy horns uwu

🌊🎻Silkina the Waveservant Bard

More smoochies!!

Silkina is learning to trust and finding herself in her budding relationship with Wyll. They kissed at the Tiefling party and now she's truly smitten. Can't wait to keep going!

She's defeated the goblins and is working her way through to the Underdark.

⛈️🖤 Efenity the Storm Sorcerer

Baby girl out here living her best life. Lmao not really...at least not yet.

But she is having fun! I've played her like 6 times now and it's like it gets more fun every time 🤣 she took Lady Esther's money upfront (with no intention of bringing her the egg). Usually she has the owl bear egg and gives her that and takes her money from that. But I forgot to get the owl bear egg so I had to try something new! I also had Astarion loot her. I discovered Cacophony this way and he stole it for Efe. It's now her canon weapon 🤣

#efenity #silkina #enyana #nordicai #bg3 tav #bg3 #Baldur's Gate III #wyll #wyll ravengard #wyll x tav #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #durge #bg3 durge

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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months

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“By all means, sharpen your axe, dear,” his voice has dropped to a hush, and she feels a shiver run up her spine once she realizes just how close he is now. She hadn’t even noticed his hand creeping up between them until his fingertips were just barely brushing her throat. A hovering grasp, a mere breath away from wrapping around her, “And I’ll ready my hands.”

summary: aruna and astarion begin to have a few interesting conversations, but she can't seem to shake that part of her that craves to keep him close. the part of her desperate to convince her that she knows him.

wc: 5.1k+

warnings: continued memory loss, spoilers for the game (specifically for a conversation that you can have with astarion that isn't triggered by a cut scene or exclamation point lol), talk of hypothetical murder as flirting

a/n: possibly one of my favorite rewrites of a canon scene thus far. will always be mad we couldn't say 'strangulation' as how we want to go. but i digress. also to anyone who is unfamiliar with the game this might seem fast paced, but to anyone who has played the game, this is probably dragging. my bad. anyways, please enjoy <;3 and peep my nod of homage to the way i keep making bard tavs only to abandon them

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The tiefling, Zevlor, had proven to be an interesting conversation.

He wants something in return for a favor. Of course he does. Aruna doesn’t even glance Astarion’s way, because she’s not in the mood to be told I told you so once it’s all said and done. She’d heard every huff and sigh from him as she’d talked to Zevlor, and she already knew he was less than impressed with how the conversation had gone.

The grove is closing itself off. The refugees are at risk of being sent to their certain death. Zevlor wants them to speak to the druids. There’s a healer named Nettie who may be able to help them.

There’s a healer named Nettie who may be able to help them.

Aruna is an optimist, and chooses to focus on that bit rather than the performance she had put on back there. There’s hope yet – they just have to take the scenic route to get to their final destination.

The group explores the grove a little bit, perusing several small booths that have been set up amongst the large caves. They all keep their distance, not yet deciding to approach any vendors, but Aruna still keeps a list in case they need resources: there’s a corner with a frail elderly lady who’s surrounded by tables littered with what Gale can identify as healing potions, beside her is a tiefling stirring some giant cauldron of what must be food as it smells delectable, and across from her is some sort of blacksmith who has a small shop set up with a depleted source of weapons and armor. All people who might be useful to speak to at some point.

But that’s for another day. The elderly lady piques Aruna’s interest for a moment, but Zevlor had said that Nettie could be found in the druid’s grove, and this was decidedly not the actual grove.

Aruna watches Astarion like a hawk through all of it. And he knows that she’s watching him closely, because at some point he even teases her about it.

“Say, shall I just creep over there and snatch one of those healing potions for myself, dear leader? I doubt the woman would notice it missing. I do have quite skilled hands.”

She’d nearly smacked him for the suggestion of theft, and he’d only cackled when she’d started to look around for any signs of guards that might have overheard his words.

Just before they leave back to their camp for the day, for Aruna to mark this place on their map and begin to formulate some sort of plan for finding this Nettie come tomorrow, they find Wyll. Wyll, the human who had joined in the fight at the gate, tearing down goblins easily with eldritch blasts and the flourish of his rapier.

He’s kind enough. Astarion is rolling his eyes when through that tadpole connection (which is once again, not as painful as it had been with the pale elf), a new quest is presented to them. Hunting a Devil with Wyll. Securing his companionship, increasing their numbers. It’s a small cost, Aruna decides, and she invites him back to camp without hesitation, fully agreeing they’d help him track down this Devil soon after speaking to this Nettie.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a bleeding heart?”

Despite an additional body now joining them on their trek back to camp, Astarion still clings to Aruna’s side as she leads the group.

“It’s not a bleeding heart,” she quips back, giving a quick glance to the map in her hands. Less for finding her way to camp, and more for engraving what she needs to draw out once they get back. “He has a tadpole. He needs us as much as we need him – the Devil will just be something to keep in mind.”

“It’s a side quest, and side quests will sidetrack us,” Astarion points out as Aruna finally veers between trees, beginning to stumble into heavier bramble that they have to navigate in order to arrive at their clearing, “It’s going to take years for us rid ourselves of our little problems at this rate.”

Aruna rolls her eyes before stepping widely over a fallen log, “You’re being dramatic.”

“Never denied having a love for the theater, darling,” Gods, his tongue is fast. Always equipped with a new comeback, always readied with a new nickname to make heat flash through her body. “My point is, we don’t have years. Time isn’t exactly on our side, if I’ve been listening to that wizard correctly.”

“Gale,” she corrects him absentmindedly, stopping for a second to gather their surroundings as well as allow the other three to catch up a little bit, “His name is Gale, and… and he’s right, I think. We should be weary of ceremorphosis.”

Astarion waves off the reminder of Gale’s name as if he has no use of it. Which, at the rate in which he only seems keen on speaking to her, he might not. “We haven’t sprouted any tentacles yet. And our flesh has yet to melt off our faces, so to speak. However, I am curious as to what your plan is if any of that does start happening to one of us.”

She starts to head west. Or at least, the direction she thinks is west.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that at the first sign of change, I’d have to stop that pretty little bleeding heart of yours.”

Aruna nearly trips over her own feet.

Is he seriously threatening me right now?

When she turns to look at him, though, he doesn’t look one bit as frightening as she had expected. His hands are far from his daggers, and she swears there’s a smile playing on the corners of his lips.

“I am open to suggestions,” he presses on, meeting her gaze and leaning forward, the face of playfulness, “Knives, poison, strangulation – whatever you’d prefer.”

He’s not going to kill her. There’s absolutely no way that there’s any weight to his words. If someone were going to choose to kill someone, they would not be indulging in this type of conversation with them, would they?

She stares at him for a few moments, completely still and silent as she blinks slowly before finally saying, “You are odd.”

It makes him laugh. A scoff that echoes through the trees around them as she starts to quicken her pace. Camp is near, the rest of their group isn’t far behind – he’s not going to kill her. She’s not worried about that, but she is worried for his sanity by thinking that this was small talk.

“Humor me,” he calls after her. Even as her strides turn longer, he doesn’t struggle to keep up, “I deserve it after being on my best behavior at the grove.”

She’d argue that he hadn’t been on his best behavior, but the more she gets to know him, the more she’s thinking that the way he had restrained himself today was him attempting to follow her rules.

“I’m not sure,” she sighs, “How would you like to go?”

Even in her peripherals, she can see him light up as he realizes she is actually humoring him.

“I don’t think that poison is for me. Nor stabbing, come to think of it. I always felt decapitation was a fine choice. One good swing and then – nothing,” Gods, he’s thought about this quite sincerely, hasn’t he? “But we were talking about you. What’ll it be?”

Through the breaks in the trees ahead, she can see the camp. She could choose to ignore him, dart ahead and leave him behind without an answer. But for some reason, she found herself almost enjoying the conversation. There was something in his cadence, in the hand gestures she was only catching the tail end of. If she were going to question his sanity, she might as well also question her own, because she was actually entertaining what he was suggesting.

“You said strangulation was an option?” she stops and turns to him, catching sight of just far ahead they’d gotten from the others. Probably for the best, given their current exchange.

His grin widens. His eyes sparkle in the warmth of the setting sun. He’s beautiful enough to take her breath away if she’d let him. Literally, given what she’d just said to him.

“Strangulation?” he parrots back. She’s taken him off guard, returning the favor of setting him off his kilter, “Can’t say that was the option I’d imagine you’d choose. It’s the least messy, of course, but you did strike me as someone who might prefer a classic knife.”

“Or a goblin bow,” she says before she can even think of it. It rolls off the tongue easily, and the moment the words hang between them, they’re both smiling. She’s almost laughing, even.

Just hours before, she had almost met her very real and very timely death by the exact object of her joking. It hadn’t been a joke then – it had been a real fear, staring her right in the eyes as she had helplessly reached for daggers that she severely needed to grow more skilled with.

And he had helped her. Saved her life, even. The exact opposite of the hypothetical they were posing to one another now.

“Or… that,” he’s so close to being at a loss for words, she’s nearly proud of herself, “But this is all hypothetical, of course. I’m sure tomorrow we’ll find this Nettie and there will be no need for any gore.”

“Or we won’t,” she can hear the footsteps of the others now, not far off, but she’s in too deep to not finish Astarion at his own game, “And I’ll just have to sharpen my axe.”

He takes a step closer to her, lips still curled. She’s glad she’s humored him – glad she can make him smile, make him laugh, even with such morbid conversations. They deserve a little bit of that joy, even if it comes by odd means.

Something inside of her sparks. Yearns, weeps, lashes out as his hand drops just before the other three join them. It wasn’t just his velvet voice or the brush of his breath against her cheek, it wasn’t just the alarming temperature of his hand and the way her body reacted to the mere thought of him putting it on her – it was a strange need for closeness. As if he had belonged there, pressed right against her, staring right into her eyes until she’d grown nervous that he could see straight to all the memories she couldn’t unlock quite yet.

“Interrupting something?” Gale asks, oblivious, once the rest of the group has caught up to the pair. Astarion had moved away at just the right moment; just close enough for them to see they’d been talking about something, but not to catch that innocent movement of his hand that had sent Aruna into a tailspin.

It had felt right.

For a moment, his skin had been on hers, and everything fell into place. As if she didn’t have a brain riddled with holes. As if she hadn’t had to learn her name from some letter. As if she’d known Astarion for two hundred years, not a petty two days. The buzz of the frustration she has battled with since waking on that beach had simply quieted by her space being invaded by him.

She wants him close again. She wants to feel it again.

Instead, she only lies to Gale, shakes her head and pretends like there had never been anything to interrupt. Acts as if her whole mind and soul are there with the rest of them, not lingering on that blip of a moment, stuck in a capsule of time in which Astarion had somehow made her feel whole again. She hadn’t even remembered a damn thing from her past – not a single vision, not a single thought of something as trivial as to what her favorite color might have been before the tadpole – but none of that mattered with the distraction of his presence.

They carry on into camp. She knows she has an endless list of simple tasks to complete before she can fully rest for the night: she needs to speak with Lae’zel, she needs to help Gale ration out their supplies for dinner for the next few nights, she needs to update the map, she needs to curate a plan for the next day.

She does none of the above.

Some pathetic excuse is mumbled out between her lips in a voice she can’t even recognize as her own, claiming she’ll go gather some mushrooms or pick some berries for Gale to utilize for tonight’s feast. And no one stops her as she departs from camp, not even the pale elf who hovers by the fire Wyll begins to build, eyes locked on her in curiosity she doesn’t witness.

He was right. Her heart is bleeding, a gaping wound in the center of it that gushes with every beating of her pulse. But for which it bleeds, she isn’t so sure.

Not quite the tieflings they met today and offered to help. Not quite the companions she’s offered to embark on personal journeys with.

No, Aruna’s heart is bleeding, and she’s starting to suspect that it all begins and ends with the garnet eyes she feels on her long after she’s departed back into the trees.

—

“And I thought I was going to be the broody one of the camp.”

Astarion’s voice should startle her, especially considering it comes from behind her in the woods rather than him approaching her from the rocks leading up to her perch, but it doesn’t. No surprise, no annoyance, no irritation – all she really feels is a deepening of a gaping hole inside of her that hasn’t subsided since her tadpole first connected with his.

Upon her arrival back to camp, she’d handed over a pitiful handful of berries and a small bouquet of mushrooms to Gale, and had immediately retreated. She wasn’t in a talkative mood; she’d glanced around for somewhere to hideaway, and had landed on the small lookout atop a stone cliff not far from where Lae’zel had set up a tent.

Most of her companions had set up tents. Where they’d gotten them from, she has no idea. But each one has found a corner to call their own in the camp, creating almost homey environments, except her.

Her, and Astarion.

She tilts her head ever so slightly as she shakes it, a small tsk falling from her lips, “Nope. I’m afraid that title has already been taken, my friend.”

His footsteps are light as he approaches her side, hesitating before he awkwardly lowers himself onto the ground beside her. She’d offer up space on her rock, but her body was heavier than even the stone below her, and she couldn’t find it in herself to make any movement.

They’re just out of sight from the rest of the camp. A thinner grouping of trees offers minimal coverage, a large boulder her current seat. She could easily walk out onto the stone ledge and expose herself, but she was already feeling a little too seen for the night.

Has anyone ever told you that you have a bleeding heart?

She wonders if someone had, before all this mess, from a time she can’t recall.

“Friend,” he echoes her. His tone isn’t condescending, but rather curious, “I’m not sure I’ve ever-”

And then he cuts himself off, as though he’s caught himself in the act of opening up. He looks as if he hadn’t been in control for a few moments.

That draws in her curiosity well enough. She thought she had been burnt out for the day, beyond the capability to hold conversation, but he’s drawing her into it easily. Like a moth to his flame, like a moon stuck in his orbit.

“Well? Don’t hold out on me now. I’m absolutely on the edge of my seat,” she only sinks into a more comfortable position to add humor to her words, “Let me guess. You never would have called someone such as myself a friend before all this. I understand if that’s the case-”

“I’ve never called someone a friend, period,” he interrupts. He says it all in one breath, and when she looks down at his face, nearly hidden by the shadows, it looks absolutely petrified. As if he can’t believe he’s just said that outloud. As if his mouth had moved without permission in order to spill the words out for her.

The soft ‘oh’ that leaves her is completely involuntary. She isn’t sure how to respond to that – that level of vulnerability, the kind that is making him shrink under her gaze and curl his lips in disgust at himself. It’s not the kind of thing you’d reveal to a stranger.

But Astarion feels like anything but a stranger, fight it as she might try.

“If it would make you more comfortable,” she starts, and his head whips up to look at her in alarm, “I could always refer to you as an enemy instead.”

When he laughs, it’s a symphony. She wishes she were lying, but the music of his joy fills her with an indescribable light, as though she might have just swallowed the sun whole. It warms every joint, every crevice, every shadow she has within her. For just a moment, all the monsters within her are quiet once again, content to sit and simply listen to him with a smile.

It makes her want to run. It makes her breath catch, and a certain resentment begins to build against the way he can have this effect on her so effortlessly. It’s the same gut reaction as she’d had on the beach when Gale had also laughed for her, but more.

It’s better than hearing Gale laugh. So, so much better.

Would it be better to not fight this wonderful blanket of deja vu? If she just loosened her fists, unclenched her jaw, she could let it anchor her easily in an almost comforting manner. Even after the echoes of his amusement had long faded, it whispers to her in the dark.

She’s terrified of the way it feels; it feels as though she’s spent countless nights listening to that laugh. By a campfire, in dark tents, in shared beds. She’s heard it withheld with constraint, free without care, hushed for the sake of others – for a moment, she swears, she knows Astarion’s laugh like the back of her hand. And that, that indescribable feeling, is what stokes all her fear.

“You know, perhaps you’re a bard,” he jokes once he’s calmed down, waving a hand through the air without purpose.

“Ah,” her smile she hadn’t even noticed finally falters, remembering what had happened outside of the Grove. She needed to speak with Gale, as well. She’d just add it to the list. After another moment, she swears to herself that she’ll see to doing all that she must before retiring for the night, “So I see you’ve heard of my little identity crisis.”

He tilts his head back to look at her fully, and she’s moments away from genuinely offering to share her boulder as a seat.

As if to stop herself, she makes another bad joke. Maybe he’ll laugh, and she’ll have no room to say something stupid, like offering him a seat next to her. Letting him close to her again. “Gale is a terrible keeper of secrets – noted.”

There’s still ghosts of giggles on his lips as he sighs, pressing two hands into the dirt behind him and leaning his body into a reclined position.

“Not entirely. Less that he’s terrible at keeping secrets, and more that I’m particularly skilled at learning them. Ask anyone the right questions, and their pretty tongues will always sing.”

He rolls his ‘r’ when he says pretty, and that gaping hole nearly enlarges itself enough to swallow her up.

This surely isn’t how their nights are supposed to go. They’re strangers. Surely, surely, they should be more guarded. Less jokes, more awkward silences. Less revealing of who they really are, and more false pretenses to cover up the truth.

The quiet is nice. It’s exactly what she had been seeking out when she’d sulked away from the others for a moment to herself, and Astarion neither adds nor takes away from the tranquility. He’s just there. If she tilts her head just right, leans back to an even more horizontal angle, he’d leave her line of sight entirely.

She doesn’t. She keeps him there, safe in her peripherals, no longer trying to unknot all her emotions that draw her to him. She knows the letter still waits for her in her pack, and there are conversations to be had, responsibilities for her to shoulder. But for a brief moment, it’s just them – it’s just Aruna, and it��s just Astarion. Two unfortunate souls stuck with tadpoles in their brain, and now each other. No more, no less.

The moment passes eventually.

“Do you truly believe I’m a bard?”

She isn’t sure why she asks that. But she’s handed over her trust to him freely thus far, a few more inches can’t hurt.

“Hm?” he hums, rolling his head on his shoulders, a tension under the surface she only sees glimpses of in the moonlight, “Oh, who’s to say? I’m not all that well-versed in magic, being a-”

“Wait, don’t tell me,” she stops him quickly, scooting to the edge of her boulder, ankles now swinging dangerously close to him.

He peers up at her curiously, brow furrowed, “Don’t tell you… what? That I’m a-”

“Let me guess,” she nearly begs.

The last three days have felt anything but normal. Tadpoles, mysterious letters, lost memories. Guessing someone’s class just felt normal. She needed normal, if only for a moment.

“By all means,” he lifts a hand, flourishing it in invitation, “Be my guest.”

She presses her elbows into the tops of her thighs, studying him intensely as her fists squish her cheeks. And he lets her – he even tilts his head back to the sky, clearly putting on a show as her eyes scan him intensely. He’s used to it. He’s used to being the center of attention, of being something pretty to gawk at. He slips into the role far too easily to not be accustomed to such.

The longer she looks at him, the more she notices.

The surface level is what she drinks in first. Soft, white curls that nearly glow under streams from the moon. Lashes so long that they brush the porcelain skin of his under eyes. Perfectly pointed ears. And a perfectly sloped nose, albeit a little crooked if she were to scrutinize it too long from the side. Somewhere along the ridge, it’s almost as though he’s experienced a break that never quite healed right. Laugh lines that dig in deeply to his cheeks, but that almost fade from existence when his face goes as slack as it is currently. He’s not a young boy, not by any means, but there’s a certain youth to him in this state that could break her heart if she tried to contort it into a perfect metaphor. He’s a devastatingly beautiful stranger. His confidence is well earned.

But his confidence is only the surface of it all. Once she scratches past the way he doesn’t seem to falter under her careful observation, the layers practically reveal themselves. He appears relaxed, she’s been under the assumption that he’s been relaxed this entire conversation, but as she lets her eyes fall to his shoulders, she sees a tenseness that she hadn’t noticed before. One that can’t be brushed off by his current position or the weight his palms are balancing. His neck rolls with it, and she gets the smallest glimpse of his neck beneath the high-neck of his collared shirt – a scar. It flashes for only a second, giving her no time to know exactly the shape nor circumstance, but it’s there. An imperfection. A spanse of skin on him that holds a story she certainly won’t get out of him tonight, not when his shoulders still nearly tremble with that tenseness.

He’s not a damsel in distress. She doesn’t know why the letter insists that she save him.

“Well,” his voice finally startles her, breaking her from her trance, “Are you going to gawk all night at my ethereal beauty, or are you going to guess my class, young bard?”

She’s decidedly not a bard. She knows it the moment he properly refers to her as such. Really, she has no idea what a bard is, but she almost wishes she was if only to let him be right.

“I only know the few classes that Gale has mentioned in passing,” she admits into the night quietly, her voice a whisper.

His eyes flutter open at that. Gorgeous, piercing red.

“And which ones are those?”

She knows now that he’s wearing a mask. Maybe not a heavy one, maybe not a thick one, but he’s wearing one all the same. If she were more clever, she’d put on one herself. Simply for protection. A shield for whatever game the two of them were playing at.

And yet, she can’t seem to find the mind to dig through her arsenal and mirror him in defenses.

Instead, she prattles off the list Gale had rambled on about to her. Sorcerers, wizards, warlocks, druids, clerics. He’d mentioned paladins in passing, but never elaborated. Really, he hadn’t properly elaborated on any of them. He’d simply reassured her again that he had books for her to read back at camp.

None of those books were in her hands, at the time being. All she had right now was Astarion. And surprisingly, he appeared to be feeling particularly helpful.

“I see,” he nods, looking out over the camp. Gale begins cooking for all of them, Wyll rests by the fire, and the other two women of the camp are nowhere to be seen. In their tents, presumably, “Well, I can tell you that I am none of those. I don’t wield quite as much magic as those who are.”

“Quite as much?” she mimics back, a smile creeping up on her lips, “Are you insinuating that you do hold some?”

He chuckles in response, “Of course I do. You aren’t this beautiful and intriguing without having a little bit of magic, dear.”

Something flashes in his eyes when he takes on that tone with her. A faint taunting, a gentle flirtation. But when she looks in his eyes, they’ve lost some of their glimmer. His words are playful enough, but the feeling doesn’t extend beyond his voice.

She wants to poke and prod, pry till her fingers bleed and he’s cursing her name. Because she knows he would. If his little slip ups just in this conversation and his reactions to them are any indicator, Astarion hates nothing more than to offer up any vulnerability. And yet, for her, he already had.

He’s admitted that he’s never had a friend before. It’s a small detail, petty in nature, but it is a stepping stone nonetheless.

Tonight’s not the night. There will be other nights to spill the blood of honesty.

“Oh, of course. My mistake,” she plays along, feeds into his act. The insatiable animal inside of her prefers his company, after all. His simple presence is a soothing balm she can’t quite place, and she’ll do anything to drag out their time, “I’ll keep that in mind during my studies with Gale.”

Speaking of the wizard, she catches the tail end of a cautionary glance from him, his head whipping away from the direction of herself and Astarion. Whatever he’s managed to scrounge for dinner is done, plated to the best of his abilities as Shadowheart crosses camp to join him.

They’ll have to join them soon enough.

As soon as she realizes this, she has another realization, looking down to find Astarion watching a nearby tree with vexed interest, “We’re going to act like this conversation never happened come morning, aren’t we?”

We’re going to pretend like you never opened up for a fraction of a second. Like I didn’t let my guard down as well. Like we didn’t sit in the forest like two well-acquainted souls, protected by the moonlight as we shared laughter and a kinship forgotten.

We’re going to pretend like the thing ripping apart my chest doesn’t know you, somehow, someway.

“I suppose so.”

She hops down from the boulder, keeping her balance easily as she turns to offer him a hand. But he’s already standing back up, completely ignoring her offer as he brushes away the dirt on his legs and palms.

She swallows hard, nods slowly. “That’s fair, I suppose.”

It was nice while it lasted.

Even after the dust has long since been discarded off his body, he makes no move to walk down the slope of the miniature cliff and rejoin the other companions. He’s waiting – waiting for her to take the lead. Just as the others had during their travels thus far.

She’s selfish. So, so ardently selfish. But before they leave this space, before they abandon the serene moment they’d been granted, she has to learn one last thing about him. If nothing else, she’d like to say she knows the very basics of who he is.

His name, the fact that he’s never been privy to friendship before, that he is a very guarded individual with a superior skill at hiding that mask, and whatever his class is.

And that she has to ‘save him’. Apparently. Allegedly.

“What is your class?” she asks, voice steady and head held high as she only looks at him. She doesn’t care if Gale spares them any more side glances.

His head tilts curiously towards her, “What? Giving up so quickly?”

“Well, if we’re to pretend this conversation never happened, then-”

“I’ll tell you what… bard,” he starts, but when she shakes her head, he’s quick to correct himself, “Or… not bard? Regardless. Once you’ve figured out your own class, see if you can then figure out my class, hm? Read those dreadful books our camp cook has assigned to you, and then get back to me.”

She knows what that is.

It’s more than playful banter. More than him hiding away secrets.

They won’t be pretending that this night never happened – not even close.

taglist:

@emmaisgonnacry @writinginthetwilight @moonmunson

#ghost's stories #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #also heyo we finally have wyll in the party!!!#slight spoiler but astarion only goes along with the bard bit because that man KNOWS she isn't a bard #really preying on her ignorance there mister pale elf #the moon will sing

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saika077 · 1 year

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Random HC:

The first years (+Ortho) playing DnD in Ramshackle Dorm

Yuu/MC is DMing of course

Player characters (I won't go too deep into their character details tho)

I feel like Ace'd be a Human Rogue, it kinda fits his personality imo. I personally don't see him as someone who uses brute force or blast magic, so Rogue it is. Specifically, I feel like he'd be an arcane trickster.

Deuce's character would be a Monk 100%. As for the race I can sorta see him being a Tiefling. Now you might be asking, "why a Monk and not a Barbarian?", While I do acknowledge his tendency to go apeshit at times, he actively tries to grow and change from his past habits. Perhaps his character could be an ex-barbarian who is training hard to be a Monk (multiclass)?

Jack's character'd be a Goliath Fighter, the only justification I have for this is that I feel like the competitive nature of a Goliath and their desire to push beyond new limits fits him like a glove, also the fighter class suits him just fine imo.

Given his background, I feel like Epel would be a Druid (they're basically magic farmers/gardeners). However, he'd give his character cantrips like Poison Spray, various spells but no healing spells (yea this party is pretty much fucked). You can fight me on this but post-character arc Epel would be a Halfling, he'd use his size as an advantage in combat.

As for Sebek, I can't see him being anything other than a Paladin. He'd most likely be an Aasimar... or maybe a half-elf? No? Too on the nose? Anyways, he'd give his character enchantment spells, and maybe some healing spells like Cure Wounds.

Ortho is the party's main support, with him being a tiny fairy bard (now you see why I had to bring Ortho in this otherwise the party won't even survive the winter). He's just a little lad who loves berries and cream :). He also provides bgm and sfx for the campaign.

I'm sorry but I have very little to no faith for this party. But I'm sure they'll somehow survive.

Together, the fate of the world somehow lies in the hands of these murder hobos.

Random shenanigans

Ace attempting to steal a treasure/sacred item from a monster's lair, only to miserably fail a stealth roll. Everyone had to haul ass out of there.

Deuce getting emotionally attached to an Npc with tragic backstories and/or noble goal, and then stubbornly tried to save that npc and getting upset at the DM for killing them.

something tragic happens and someone just says "this is so sad, Ortho play the acoustic rendition of Piece of My World"

Ace, to every barmaid bc he's broke: "hey (with rizz)" *rolls a Nat 1 Charisma*

With how hotheaded the NRC kids are it's only a matter of time until an npc taunted or look at them the wrong way and they'd be like "oh that's it, now you're gonna get it! I ROLL FOR INITIATIVE!" completely unprompted (like in the second half of the Halloween event bc I still find it insane how everyone immediately resorts to violence, even some of the more levelheaded students).

The one time Ortho and/or Sebek can't make it to a session, Jack gets knocked out by an enemy and the gang tried to heal him. Ace: "ok but can we try slapping him awake?" Deuce:"oh that's a good idea! Can we, Yuu/MC?" Yuu/MC:"...roll me a strength check" (they forgot that they have a healing potion)

The DM sitting there horrified while watching the party using the "power of friendship" on an NPC

I feel like half of them would brute force puzzles in a dungeon and it works like one out of three times or something.

"why do I hear boss music?"

Yuu, the DM, puts their hands together in front of them, a strange smile plastered on their face as they calmly said; "everyone, I want you to roll for initiative 🙂"

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mumms-the-word · 1 month

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For your 100 followers, would you want to an epilogue scene for one of your OCs where all the little side characters you saved along the way have their own happy endings and they thank your OC and their romanced companion for making their lives better?

Oh gosh I’ve only had epilogues with Dani and Ardynn and they were both good beans who saved everyone they could. They’d have to set up a line and stand there shaking hands for 2 hours 😂

I do have headcanons about where a lot of people ended up, particularly in Dani’s game. Especially the tieflings. She helps the tieflings establish their own little neighborhood in Baldur’s Gate and makes sure all their businesses/schools get off the ground, like Bex’s bakery/tea shop and Alfira’s music school and so on.

Gale and Dani visit Rolan and his siblings regularly in Ramazith for magic discussions and tea and to mess with Rolan a little (well, Gale is there to be helpful, Dani is there to tease, she loves Rolan like a brother).

Dani is the number one most frequent customer of Bex’s tea house because she’s obsessed with her cookies and Gale loves Danis’s tea. Gale and Dani are among the very first people that Bex and Danis break the news about their pregnancy to, and Dani is elated for them.

Dani also regularly visits Alfira’s music school. She helps tutor the violin players on their music but she’s not suited to teaching all that much, since her advice is basically “you got it! Keep trying!” while trying not to wince. Gale offers to teach them spells until he realizes that bards have a fundamentally different understanding of casting magic than wizards do (I headcanon that bards don’t even use the same melodies for spells, like there isn’t a system like “Play A C F A to cast healing word” bards just sort of guess at magic and use their own music to convey the spell and whatever works for them is whatever they repeat; but this was absolutely frustrates Gale as a wizard because it makes replication and study wibbly wobbly)

Dani is a bit better at teaching them spells and Gale is interested in watching, at the very least, and trying to make sense of it all

I could keep going tbh. They find Zevlor a quiet place to retire, close to where the thieflings operate with Mol as their leader (Dani respects Mol’s ambition to take over the Guild but she’s also like “I need you to be in a house not a tent in the Guild headquarters” and the other Thieflings appreciate having a home to go back to after they’re done selling papers and stuff). I’m sure Cerys and Zorru join the flaming fist or something. Or get merc work. Idk as much about them.

I do think they Cerys, Zorru, Cal, Lia, and Zevlor form an unofficial militia on behalf of their neighborhood to deal with internal conflicts that they don’t want the flaming fist poking their noses in. Most of these conflicts end up roping in Dani too. Thankfully, conflicts are rare in the first couple of years, aside from some racist bozos Dani is only too happy to yeet from the neighborhood

And Dammon, of course, still has his forge. Dani and Gale regularly check up on him and they’re working constantly with him to find a way to upgrade or repair or even replace Karlach’s heart. The progress is slow but Dani refuses to give up. She sends Karlach little notes from Dammon all the time, usually as sending spells.

Meanwhile in Ardynn’s world she kind of loses touch with anyone not in the Reclaimed Lands with her and Halsin lol that’s a whole separate post tho, I have tons of headcanons for how Ardynn and Halsin shape the reclaimed lands as Aldermen of the commune

#asks #bg3 #bg3 headcanons

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moonchild-in-blue · 6 months

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Sleep Token X D&D

An expansion of this post because je suis trés unhinged and I miss playing DnD. I'm not including homebrew content for simplicity sake, guiding myself through this website. Feel free to add or change as you will. I'll leave some links for each class specs in case you wanna read more, or aren't super familiar with it.

At first it would make sense for all of them to be different types of Warlocks or Sorcerers, with Sleep as their common patron. BUT I think that would be an easy cop-out, and I want to make things interesting. This is just my headcanon so yeah, don't mean, don't be weird. Let me know how you'd do it!!

(and if there are any DnD players who happen to come across this post and want to take inspiration on it, you're more than welcome to do so!)

Let's get to it, nerds 🎲2️⃣0️⃣

[cut because this is LONG]

Vessel

Race: Tiefling. A lot of room for inventiveness here, and you can change his appearance as you'd prefer. Maybe that's why he's always cloaked and masked. Maybe he gets even more disfigured every time he connects with Sleep. Class/Sub-Class: Warlock, The Great Old One (mysterious entity whose nature is utterly foreign to the fabric of reality). Obviously Sleep would be his patron. I like to think Vessel had an encounter with Sleep whilst not knowing who or what They were, and eventually became their servant. For the pacts, I had thought of Pact of the Tome, where the Book of Shadows would be his lyrics, but Pact of the Talisman is also great, because of the mask. @a-s-levynn had suggested The Fathomless for his sub-class, which is also AMAZING, especially if you want to lean into the whole tentacle/water horror aesthetic. Alternatively, Sorcerer, Divine Soul is an EXCELENT class for Vessel (actually, now that I'm editing this, I kinda prefer this one lmao). Read this and tell me this isn't exactly what Vessel is: Sometimes the spark of magic that fuels a sorcerer comes from a divine source that glimmers within the soul. Having such a blessed soul is a sign that your innate magic might come from a distant but powerful familial connection to a divine being. Perhaps your ancestor was an angel, transformed into a mortal and sent to fight in a god’s name. Or your birth might align with an ancient prophecy, marking you as a servant of the gods or a chosen vessel of divine magic. Yeah.

Race: Lightfoot Halfling (yes I'm making him a hobbit, what about it?) Fire Genasi is also very apt. Class/Sub-Class: Druid, Circle of Wildfire (these druids bond with a primal spirit that harbors both destructive and creative power, allowing the druids to create controlled flames that burn away one thing but give life to another). This primal spirit, of course, would be Sleep. They are a bit of a mysterious entity. ii was the hardest to come up with. I knew I wanted him to be somehow connected to the land/elements, because I think that would be the best translation for his rhythmic prowess (drums wouldn't make much sense as a Bard). And that photo of him with the painted red fingertips reminds me of fire, so it seemed like a perfect fit. Some other alternatives: Druid, Circle of Dreams or Monk, Way of the Four Elements (monk would be SO good because of his silence, like LoZ Link, and the ability to harness his energy).

iii

Race: Obviously a Dark Elf. Obsidian-black polished skin, pale blond hair, pale blue eyes, slim figure. Need I say more? Earth Genasi could also be a good option, due to his golden vein-like paint. Class/Sub-Class: Ranger, Fey Wanderer (a ranger who represents both the mortal and the fey realms. As you wander the multiverse, your joyful laughter brightens the hearts of the downtrodden, and your martial prowess strikes terror in your foes, for great is the mirth of the fey and dreadful is their fury.) I quite like this because the options of how you acquire the magic are endless, and can be traced to Sleep or even Vessel (maybe he granted them?). iii is our favourite chaotic boy, but he can be so intimidating at times, this one plays off his duality quite well. Plus you get Otherworldly Glamour similar to iv which makes sense. A cool alternative could be Sorcerer, Wild Magic, as it has a similar base to Vessel and it draws magic out of chaos.

Race: I thought about making him a Genasi or Half-Elf, but honestly I love him as a Human. I just love the idea that this human is sooo charming and talented, that even all these supernatural creatures can't help but be enthralled by him. Changeling or even Eladrin could also work. Class/Sub-Class: Bard, College of Glamour (these bards are so eloquent that a speech or song that one of them performs can cause captors to release the bard unharmed and can lull a furious dragon into complacency). I like that iv appears to be super low-key, but is actually insanely seductive (I see you mask pulling) and talented. So out of all of them, he was my obvious choice for a bard.

The Vesselettes

I think they could either be sort of like a greek chorus or muses but for Sleep, that appeared at key moments to help the party, or actual campaign members. Race: Aetherborn Class/Sub-Class: Clerics, Twilight Domain (The twilit transition from light into darkness often brings calm and even joy, as the day's labors end and the hours of rest begin. The darkness can also bring terrors, but the gods of twilight guard against the horrors of the night). It would be awesome to have them as healers and protectors of the party, who serve Sleep directly (if Sleep is evil, they could also be secret spies? To make sure the party does as Sleep intents). Or maybe they are protecting the party from Sleep (they can never sever their connection to them, but they will do everything they can to make sure the vessels won't go too far).

I'm not sure how they would all get together, but my [abridged] story would place them all as servants of this magical deity, called Sleep. Vessel was the first to encounter Them and lives as an actual, living vessel for them. They believe that Sleep, albeit mysterious, is a benevolent creature, who was wrongfully cast away from Their plane/stripped of their powers or divinity.

As the one closest to Sleep, Vessel can sense that something isn't quite right, but he's already so entangled and manipulated by them, that he doesn't even care.

So they fight all these people and creatures, believing they're doing something Good, but then it turns out that Sleep was evil all along? The people they have conquered and killed were actually good, trying to stop them from giving this awful, terrible being their power.

Sleep basically uses them to defeat their enemies and get back to whatever place or power they no longer have access to. Maybe the vessels turn their back on them? Maybe Vessel doesn't want to and they fight with each other? Or maybe they just keep serving Sleep?

Or, you know, Sleep could also be an actual helpful deity, and they are genuinely doing good by fighting in Their name. But maybe in the end Vessel can't let go of Them and drama ensues and everybody cries.

I don't know, this is just an idea. I spent WAY too much time researching for this, but it was fuuun. I love talking DnD.

#I know this is long but i promise it's nice!#don't let my hours go to waste hahaha (cries)#no but seriously #do let me know what you think or if you have any other ideas of how this could go down!#sleep token #sleep token x dnd #dnd #darya is unhinged #sleep token lore

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dujour13 · 3 months

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⭐️ for the Prodigal Tiefling?

Thank you so much!! 💕💕I don’t know if it’s director’s commentary exactly, but I love rambling about this because it was such a joy to write.

The Prodigal Tiefling

In The Lark and the Crow I skipped ahead from Woljif’s disappearance the night of the gargoyles to his re-discovery in the Worldwound, but in the back of my mind I always did want to get a look at what happened in between.

The Owlcatober 2023 prompts were the occasion, starting with “Fear” - the night of the gargoyles. For a character I love so dearly I don’t know why it’s so fun to put Woljif through it.

Woljif POV is always so much fun to write. It’s his cynicism, his humor, and that secret wish to be loved and accepted that comes to the surface now and then despite himself. In the first chapter his cowardice almost comes full circle and ends up bravery when he (very briefly) considers backstabbing a gargoyle that’s occupied with the chief—but the Shadow is there, whispering as always, urging him to self-preservation, and also taking a jab at his sense of self-worth as usual.

In this short fic there’s only the tiny glimmer of a realization of how alone his cowardice and self-interested scheming makes him. And how his low sense of self-worth keeps him from investing in friendship, which further contributes to his loneliness, so that he’s in a prison of his own making. In this fic and The Lark and the Crow the Shadow (his demonic side, Ygefeles, the Moon of the Abyss) embodies that vicious cycle and literally speaks for his darker side.

I was happy with the last line of that chapter:

Woljif scanned the sky, kissed the Moon of the Abyss, and sprinted.

The following couple of chapters with him lost in the Worldwound, full of regret and self-pity, were mostly dreamed up while hiking. With a constant stream of Woljif complaining in my head.

By the fourth day he was engaged in a bitter debate with his inner Lann about the nutritious benefits of lichen.

We also get a peek at the Knight-Commander at the absolute end of his rope at the Lost Chapel, blaming himself for everything, terrified by what he’s witnessed, and worried sick about Woljif for no reason he can understand. Sitting in his tent with one wet sock halfway off, crying his eyes out.

My poor sensitive guilt-ridden azata bard at rock bottom.

By the end of it I needed to dry them both off and bundle them up in front of a nice fire.

So things end well of course, and Siavash “kills the fatted calf” by packing cherry rolls on their next foray into the Worldwound to celebrate Woljif’s return. A line of Woljif’s I had fun with, showing a little appreciation for an azata commander:

“I don’t bet ol’ Galfrey ever hauled snacks halfway across the Worldwound for her chums.”

The last chapter was a good chance to play around with the funny philosophy that is Siavash’s Desnan trust in luck. He doesn’t believe Desna fixes things for him. He just thinks that if he trusts his heart and does the right thing, it’ll be fine.

#thanks for the ask!!#this is a fun one to come back to (so to speak)#dragonologist-phd #pwotr pals #my writing #the prodigal tiefling #the lark and the crow

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darksunrising · 6 months

Text

Bard On Bard Violence (1/?)

Masterlist of the Echoes of Faerûn Series

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

Rating / Warnings : Mature audiences.

Fandom, Pairing : Baldur's Gate III, Raphael x Tav (focus), Astarion x Tav (background)

Author’s notes : I really like the "sex contract" trope. However, I really like to be an annoyance even more, so I just wanted an excuse to write my Bard Echo negotiating such a contract with Raphael, with the help of his ex-magistrate current-boyfriend. It will contain The Sexy Scenes later, so minors begone.

For reference, Echo is a tiefling bard, and a trans man.

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

Perched up at the top of a broken-down windmill, Echo has been trying for a while to settle the anxiety knotted in his gut since they’ve left the now Un-Shadowed lands. After so long constantly on the lookout for the smallest shift in every shadow, considering every mannerism, every turn of phrase to slink by the Absolute’s cult, that first moment of peace, of quiet, feels like impending doom.

In some way, it had been easier to keep focused on the all-around imminent threat of death, to not think about anything else. To not keep count of how many times he’s had to bring back his companions from the brink of death, or beyond. How he’s felt the cold embrace of death twice himself now, and every time, he’s left something behind. An ache that just won’t leave, a scar that just won’t heal, a memory that just won’t come back.

He shivers under the evening wind breezing through the fine linen of his nightshirt, eyes glazed over towards the setting sun, blazing the sky in reds and oranges. His hands are clasped tight together, massaging the tremors out of the tendons, the crushed, aching nerves at the tip of his fingers. He knows trembling hands are a death sentence, for a bard. And yet, he’d still suffer the bruising bite of his rapier’s hilt, still play twice as hard if needed to keep their foes chained down, frightened, weakened. To keep people he loves alive, just a bit longer.

Echo doesn’t immediately register the gentle smell of cherries and amber, but he does notice the heat, even if it’s too late. "My, my, little mouse...", a low, silky voice slips into Echo's ear. "So unlike you to be caught off your guard."

Echo jumps, flipping himself around, back pressed to the wooden beam he'd been leaning on. "Fuck, Raphael, how long-", he starts, and forces his mouth shut to take a deep, steadying breath, through the nose.

"Not long. You looked so... Pensive, I resented to interrupt", the cambion replies. As most often when he visits in Faerûn, he is donning his human disguise, warm brown eyes glimmering with amusement as he looks down at the poor surprised tiefling.

"Of course you did", he replies, between his teeth. He does manage to regain some composure, some dignity. Not all, mind you, he's still in sleepwear, far from the embroidered, polished, buttoned to the neck sort of clothing he usually favors to meet with the likes of Raphael. "Did you just mean to give me a heart attack, or is there an actual purpose for your visit?"

"Oh, baring claws, are we?", the Devil retorts, letting the red skin and sharp nails slip through as he curls his fingers in, just for that little mocking gesture.

"You know how I do enjoy an extended metaphor." The same sarcasm is offered to the fiend in response, Echo's arms crossing over his chest in a vague, half-unconscious effort to look more imposing. It's mostly lost on his smaller frame, at least half a foot shorter than the other man (horns included). Raphael hums, his eternal infuriating little smile dancing on his lips. He takes lazy steps towards Echo, up into his personal space.

"I did want to see how you were faring, after all that... Unpleasantness, at Moonrise Towers." His hand comes up to Echo's face, who doesn't budge an inch. He's fishing for a reaction, and he'd rather not give him that pleasure. Raphael's thumb brushes over the scar that now adorns the side of his chin, biting down from his lip in a thin, pale line.

"We made it out fine", Echo says, voice coming out a bit too flat for his usual lyricism.

"So I see." His hand drops from Echo's face, with an almost gentle little scrape of his nails over the underside of his jaw. He chooses to believe the little shiver that runs down his spine is only due to the cold, and peels himself from the balustrade Raphael now leans against, eyes turned to the blazing horizon.

"I came to make you an offer", the Devil says, after a moment of silence Echo refuses to fill.

"My soul is not for sale", Echo replies, almost instantly, and Raphael makes a little gesture as if to swat away a fly, eyebrows scrunching up in annoyance.

"Yes, yes, so you've said." He leans on an elbow, the dying sunlight bringing a fire to his iris that's not entirely unlike his actual eye color. "This is not what I am after... Yet", he adds, playfully cocking his head to the side.

Echo rolls his eyes. In theory, he knows better than to listen to a fiend's offers. They've rather lucked out with Astarion's 'deal' to bring Yurgir back to the House of Hope, but he doesn't trust Raphael to not be the sort of Devil to plan for the long term. Get their trust, get them to like him, even, and come out on top with one of their souls in his clawed hands.

And yet.

"I'm listening."

Raphael's face splits in a delighted grin, and he clasps his hands together. "I knew you had some sense in you. Now-" He removes himself from the balustrade, imposing his full height on Echo once again. "I have the suspicion that being so thoroughly surrounded by powerful warriors and casters, you might find yourself..." He searches for his words, for effect. Echo indulges him, as he always does. "... At a disadvantage."

Echo is almost sure those words, as most coming out of the Devil's mouth, are practiced, though he can't really fault him for that. There's something... Enjoyable, about the way he performs his role to the perfection, all while seeming so utterly harmless. Trustworthy, even. That's where the danger lies, he supposes. He doesn't say anything, not wanting to interrupt his monologue with more than an encouraging eyebrow raise. Raphael has a little satisfied hum in response.

"I could give you access to some of a Warlock's knowledge to better protect yourself, and more importantly, your little companions", he continues. A little sting, right to Echo's heart, though his face remains impassible. It's not hard to know that would be the string to pull to convince him. He knows his talents have their uses, he does, but as soon as they're in actual combat, he can't help but feel... Useless. Hanging out at the edges, healing those he can, trying to buy some time, frighten their adversaries, but in the end, nothing to match Gale's fireballs or Karlach's axe.

"Supposing I were interested", he starts, eyebrows knitting together as Raphael's smile immediately shows teeth again, "Supposing. What would you want in exchange, if not my soul?"

Raphael's eyes narrow, and Echo swears he can see his pupils dilate. "Your particular set of skills, of course, what else could you offer that I could not get elsewhere?" He pauses a second, just to let the implication dawn on Echo, and interrupts just as he's about to open his mouth. "Still living mortals are such a... Delicacy, to have in the Hells, and I need a performer when I entertain. You do have experience with such arrangements, don't you?"

Echo's heart skips a beat, and a second, aching like Raphael had reached through his ribcage to grasp it in his hand. His face falls with it, only a second, more than enough for Raphael to know his hook is dug deep into Echo's skin.

"Maybe it's not the sort of experience I want to reiterate", he says, voice carefully controlled not to shake.

Raphael leans in, just a little, eyes dark, piercing through him like he's made of paper. "I could give you so much more than they ever did. Real power, real security. Something tangible."

"And all of that for the price of my company and my music, is it?" He does try to sound as sarcastic as possible, though his voice trembles a bit, infuriatingly. Raphael takes an invading step towards Echo, finally managing to make him give up ground, and step back to the balustrade. It presses into his back as he flattens himself against it, hand graspig for a secure hold into the wood.

"Your company”, Raphael starts, slow, measuring his effect. “And anything I could ask of you if it suits my desire."

Echo knows he's not helpless. He could scream, and have eight very capable people ready to tear the Devil to shreds. He could run. He could tell him to go fuck himself.

"I won't become your on-call whore for a few spells." He tries to sound as dry as he can, though it comes out a bit slurred. Raphael's smile doesn't drop one bit, hand curling underneath Echo's chin to tip his face up. The heat of his skin makes Echo shiver, his face taking a nice purple hue across his cheeks.

"Oh, you can pretend you are above this, but you can't fool me, little mouse", he purrs, shifting to a proper grip on the tiefling's jaw that draws an unfortunate whimper from him. "I have seen how you look at me, I can hear the way your heart beats for me."

The heady aroma of Raphael's perfume makes it that much harder to focus, and Echo's eyes keep dropping to the Devil's lips despite his best attempts to hold his gaze. And Raphael notices, of course he does, his smile digging lines into his skin as it reaches his eyes. His hand withdraws, the tips of his fingers gently brushing across his jaw as it does.

"I will let you think on it", he says, and produces a small piece of metal between his fingers. "Use this to play, and I will know to come for you", he says, infuriatingly confident that Echo will call for him, as he places the pick in the tiefling's hand. His fiendish appearance flickers over his face, before he raises a hand, and snaps himself away in an elegant swirl of smoke and embers. Echo remains, frozen, with all proof of the encounter the small, chiselled pick, near warm enough to burn in the palm of his hand.

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

Comments are super appreciated, and you can dm me if you want to be on the taglist if that's still a thing people do!

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #bard on bard violence #echoes of faerun

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songbirdtales · 8 months

Text

Flirting with Disaster (AstarionxTav oc)

Authors note:

Hey folks, this is a part 2. Part 1 is here. I know I said this was going to be nsfw but ngl the more I play this game the less overtly horny i get for Astarion and the more I just want to wrap him in a weighted blanket and make sure he's comfortable. So I guess never expect me to keep a promise lmfao. I have so many more fics half written in my drive and it's just becoming heavier romance. Anywho, game spoilers ahead. TW: death, head injury, eye injury

“That rotten bitch!” Karlach growled. “No wonder she’d talk about a kid like that. She’s fucking evil.”

Gale was deep in reading the book that outlined the ritual of thorns. “So, what will we do about this?” His eyes only rose from the page to look at Tav. He defaulted to them instantly, his trust in them incredibly strong despite any real reason. Astarion could barely keep from rolling his eyes at the sight.

“We go back to the grove and out her.” They said simply before looking to Astarion. “Astarion and Gale will steal the idol of Silvarus and stop the ritual while-” They looked to Karlach. “Karlach and I are going to have a little talk with Kahga.” Tav looked back to Gale. “Once you two have the idol, you’ll probably want to join us. I can’t imagine there won’t be a fight.”

“And when exactly are we launching our attack?” Astarion asked as he crossed his arms.

“Tonight. We'll use the dark to our advantage.”

He scoffed. “You want me to steal a statue that’s basically functioning as a spot light?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Yes, that’ll be so inconspicuous.”

“You said it yourself.” Tav put their hands on their hips. “It’s not in a spotlight, it is the spotlight. Turn off the light and everyone’s in the dark.”

He hadn’t thought of it like that. His lips pursed as he thought on it. “...Fine. We’ll turn off the lights.” He agreed begrudgingly. “But do save us some fight, won’t you?” Astarion pouted. He didn’t like the idea of being out of the fight. He had suggested killing the druid, after all.

“Of course, darling.” Tav grinned, teasing him with his own tricks, letting their voice drop and exaggerating their voice in a soft mimic of his own. A light stab that only seemed to spur him on like a challenge.

A gentle shove at their shoulder as Astarion looked away was the only response they got, the others snickering at their banter. It was nice, he had to admit. He almost smiled along with them. This was what it was like to have friends, wasn’t it? He could almost remember.

Night fell over the grove as the party set themselves in position. The children had seen Tav and the others pass. The tiefling bard had whispered one word to them, ‘hide’, and the word spread throughout the rest of the refugees.

Astarion was already focused on his target, watching the druids as they worked for a gap in sight. He was so focused he didn’t notice Tav’s worried face. Their soft, “Be careful,” snapped him from his trance. He didn’t get the chance to respond before they were gone, only then did he wish he’d said it back. That unnamed feeling in his stomach twisted and sank until it took his throat with him. It felt as if he was being choked no matter how deep he breathed.

“Hey,” Gale whispered to get the vampire’s attention. He had a similar look of worry to his face, but he tried to offer a reassuring smile. “They’ll be fine.” He’d nod to the idol and Astarion’s focus was right back where it was needed.

With one last heavy breath out, Astarion cast invisibility on himself and slipped into the ritual. Green trails of light passed and surrounded him as he got close to the ground, trying not to give himself away in the displaced magic. Someone did notice, but before they could speak, Gale cast Sleep on the druid, the wizard spotting the rogue.

Neither of them could help as Astarion’s form began to reveal itself the closer he got to the idol until a clear silhouette was in view just as he grabbed it. As soon as he lifted the statue, the lights went out. The druid rushed towards the center of the ritual when a portal opened behind Astarion, Gale’s hand reaching to pull him through the dimension door and right to the door to the druid’s chambers.

The rest of the order seemed to be swarming in the dark, confused and disoriented. They all gathered around where the statue and Astarion had been just a moment before, but none of them looked to where Gale and Astarion now stood in plain view with the idol in hand.

Astarion tucked the statue into his bag and flash Gale a fanged smile as he lead the Wizard into the druid’s chambers. “Well done.” He couldn’t help but hum. Gale might not have been able to see the smile well in the dark, but he could hear the admiration and surprise in Astarion’s voice. A light flush came to the wizard’s cheeks as he smiled in turn. Even Gale could get caught in Astarion’s charm it seemed.

Tav and Karlach had entered the druid chambers to yet another argument between Kahga and her peers. “This is the oak father's will.” Her own words would be her undoing. Tav stalked down the steps behind her, eyes burning with hatred. The scars around their mouth glowed violet as their words put Dissonant thoughts in Kahga’s head.

“You can lie to yourself, but you cannot lie to your god.” Tav and Karlach each looked like they were ready to sprout wings and drag the druids to Avernus. The magic in Tav’s lips died as they looked among the other druids. “You should take a look at this.” They offered the book detailing the rite of thorns to the other druids as Kahga’s face turned bright red in anger, her hands clenched.

She could see the letters wedged in the pages and knew she was caught. “You thief-” She hissed, practically spitting as she yelled. “You devil!”

Tav’s otherworldly eyes snapped to her, a fanged smile pulled across their face, the magic flaring on their lips again. “For the first time, you’re right. There wasn’t a devil in this grove until I got here, and I might have never come, but I’m a collector of wicked hearts.” The fear Tav’s words instilled was beginning to make the druid lose her mind, the psychic damage clear as she lost focus in her vision and began to sway and twitch. Tav got right in her face, their performance peak horror to a racist. “A dark druid would be the perfect addition.”

Kahga tripped, falling back onto the ground as Tav burst into laughter. “Was that too much? Did I scare you?” Tav heckled Kahga as the eyes of her peers turned from reverence to condemnation as they read her letters. Tav’s laughter finally died and they sighed, looking down at her with an upturned nose. “Gods, you’re pathetic.”

Kahga growled as she got to her feet and readied her weapon. The few still on her side joined her against the rest. The rats Kahga had been keeping revealed themselves as halflings shadow druids and took up arms with Kahga.

Karlach charged the shadow druids as Tav took their lute from their back and began to play. The driving beat of their strums built waves of thunder before booming, pushing back the two druid that had joined Kahga.

“You take care of Kahga, I will handle my brethren,” Rath called. Tav glanced to him to nod only to be met with Kahga’s staff when they looked back. Tav barely avoided her staff, practically dancing out of the way to Kahga’s dismay but her next strike was true. The heavy end of the staff clipped Tav in the side of the head, sending the tiefling staggering back into the wall.

Kahga rushed them, bringing her staff up to crush Tav’s neck into the wall. They dropped their lute, the dissonant sound of wood cracking on rock and the disharmonious ring of strings joined the fight. Tav had just caught the staff before it could really hit, their arms pressed against the wall without leverage to push up. The wood of Kahga’s staff pushed into their larynx as Tav twisted and squirmed, fighting to keep their airway clear.

The smile on the druid’s face was maniacal, the thrill of the impending kill had made her crazed. Tav’s eyes glowed one last time, their lips following suit as the woman was in the ecstasy of her high. “Look at yourself.” The Command broke her frenzy, Kahga’s smile instantly dropping as she was magically compelled to reflect on herself. “He would be so disappointed.”

Kahga’s strength left her as she took a step back, the thought ratting in her head as the awful realization of her actions settled in. Who was he? Who knew and who really cared if it was Halsin, Sylvanus, or someone else entirely that made Kahga’s mind collapse on itself? Her own reverence crushed her mind in an instant.

A gentle tap on Kahga’s shoulder caused her to snap out of her contemplation and turn casually towards the sensation. As she did, a dagger skillfully slipped into her eye socket. Astarion watched as the realization of what had just happened finally connected in the poor woman’s mind before twisting the blade and pulling it from her head. He’d let Kahga’s body fall to the ground where she’d twitch at his boots, flicking the gore from the blade before flashing a fanged smile at Tav. “Sorry I’m late darling.”

Tav’s breath slowed as the adrenaline subsided, still labored and ragged as they leaned back against the wall. A bloom of red grew in their golden hair as they smiled at him. “That was kind of hot.”

“Is that you or the concussion talking?” He asked as he gently slipped an arm around Tav and pulled them to his chest before they could slide down the wall. They were already so limp, he wasn't shocked at all when they passed out before responding. “Let’s get you back to camp.” He’d say softly before turning his head around to screech. “Karlach!” He’d clear his voice before continuing in a more casual tone. “Would you be a doll?”

As Astarion gathered the valuables off the shadow druids’ body, Gale gathered their praises from Rath, and Karlach gathered their leader from the floor to let Nettie patch up. Astarion had just picked Kahga’s body clean when he picked up Tav’s broken lute with a frown. He had no idea how to fix this, and they’d just picked apart a good lute earlier that day. He carried it with them as the group left and were met with a crowd.

The tieflings had been gathered there by the druids, who still ran around in confusion. Rath calmed the druids down as the tieflings surrounded the group. They were mostly focused on Karlach carrying a lightly patched up Tav in her arms like a bride. So many of them whispered prayers while others offered to bring supplies to their camp. Tav’s kindness towards them brought their kindness in turn, Astarion wasn’t used to seeing such things.

While all were focused on the stars of the show, Alfira approached Astarion with a meek voice. “Excuse me,” She held a second lute in her hand, one much like her own which clearly hung on her back. “I couldn’t help but see…” She looked down to the broken lute in his hands and offered the spare towards him. “It belonged to my teacher. She’s no need for it now, and it would be a shame if they couldn’t play when they wake up.”

Astarion stared at the girl in pure confusion. All of the kindness he’d been witnessing was so foreign to him, and to be directly confronted with it was almost overwhelming. Where had all this kindness been? Had it been out here all along, and just… not for him? He couldn’t wrap his mind around why this girl would give away something clearly so sentimental to her. Still, he took the instrument. A hesitant and still confused “Thank you,” fell from his lips to his own surprise. “I’m… sure they’ll appreciate it.” The uncertainty in his voice was obvious. He was purely guessing at how to respond to something like this, but as they left the sacred pool a selfish relief washed over him. One less problem for him to fix, he thought.

When the party returned to camp Karlach brought Tav to rest in Shadowheart’s tent. She stayed with the two as Shadowheart spent the night tending to Tav’s injuries. Hours had passed and both women had fallen asleep near their patient. By then the rest of the camp had begun to slow, finishing their business and finding their bedrolls for the night.

A calming cool in the warm night brought Tav’s eyes open. Their blue eyes blinked open slowly before turning their eyes around their surroundings. Tav hadn’t spent much time in Shadowheart’s tent, but they recognized the colors of the canvas once they noticed the girls outside. They both looked exhausted, they must have been worried…

Tav took their time sitting up, their head still pounding from the injury. A hand came to the spot, fingertips gently caressing the freshly healed skin. Their long hair had been undone from its bun at some point, strands falling over their shoulders as they looked around for their things. They weren’t hard to find as Tav turned around, but notably their lute had been replaced. The broken one was simply gone and the gifted one there. A smile pulled across their lips as they looked over the instrument, a pleasant surprise.

Everyone else seemed accounted for, even Gale, either tucked in their tents or settling up by the fire. Yet, as Astarion readied to take his watch he noticed an absent bedroll in Shadowheart’s tent, her patient absent along with the gifted lute. Curious, Astarion slipped into the woods. He wandered for a spell before the sound of finger plucked strings met his pointed ears.

He followed the melancholic waltz to its source, the strings keeping a simple and steady pulse as Tav hummed a melody over top. He left them in their trance as they worked through the tune with their eyes closed. Their voice was infused with magic, a soft glow coming from the scars down their chin as they drew in the night with yearning want. Their mind was open as the tadpole thrummed with the music and radiated with the memories and emotions that inspired the tune. When the open feelings reached him, Astarion couldn’t help but peer.

He saw a handsome half elf through Tav’s eyes, a set of lavender eyes with a scar tracing the upper ridge of the left brow staring back as they lay beside each other, fully clothed, his large calloused fingers brushing gently between their own. Astarion could feel that awful pit in his stomach open up, that unnamed feeling, as if he were being gutted followed by a tightness in his chest. As his mind melted with Tav’s he could find their names for the same sensations; fear, desire, longing, and- He shook his head to brush the feeling off, pulling his mind away sharply as the connection overwhelmed.

It was only his retreat Tav had noticed, their eyes now locked on him through the dark like a deer alert of a predator, two balls of devil fire burning in the night.

“I was worried when you weren’t in your tent.” He said with a weak smile, trying to save face but Tav had seen right through him.

“I thought we asked first.” They scolded him sternly.

Fear twisted his gut, he knew that’s what it was now, but why? “Sorry,” He relented. “I was expecting you to be thinking of Karlach.” His words didn’t seem to ease the tiefling, so he just asked. “Who was that?”

Tav relaxed in defeat. He didn’t need to wait them out long, Tav was unable to stay angry at him. “My paladin,” The longing in their words was on par with the melodies they’d played.

The paladin they'd mentioned when the subject of lovers came up? His confusion returned as his eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand.” He admitted angrily in a rare moment of honesty, his eyes cold but curious. “I thought you said you left him.” He was almost angry now. “If you felt like that about him, why would you leave him?”

Tav blinked a few times, caught off guard at how plainly he asked. They wondered if he’d understand the truth. “Because I was changing him for the worse.” He could see they truly believed it, but he couldn’t. “He would have thrown his oath away for me, and I couldn’t let him. It was too important. The world needs real heroes like him.” The more they spoke, the more there was something… off. There was something in the fear he’d felt through them that was different from the fear he felt right now, a missing piece of the story that would dissolve this fairytale paladin into something… else. That had to be the case. He refused to believe Tav was capable of changing someone for the worse. He was proof.

He dropped the subject, tilting his head as he leaned against a tree. “Your new girlfriend wanted you to have that. Seems you’ve really gotten in her head.”

Tav looked down to the lute relaxing in their lap. “This is why it’s good to make friends.” They said with a cocky smile before it softened, their eyes stayed on the instrument, studying its wear. They were still getting used to the feel of it. “This… was very kind of her.” They said softly. “I’ll take good care of it.”

“I suppose you were right about friends,” He conceded with a sarcastic sigh. “They just let me strip anything of worth off that druid woman.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold pendant, offering it out to them. “Thought you’d like to add it to your dragon’s horde.”

Tav stood, setting the lute down gently where they’d sat. It only took a few steps for Tav to stand in front of Astarion. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but Astarion’s face slanted in a curious furrow when Tav turned their back to him. “Can you help me put it on?”

He’d not noticed the bandages on their hands until they reached to gather their hair. They pulled the mass of gold strands aside to make it easier to reach around their neck. He let the golden chains pull snug against their neck, the deep amethyst set down the chains to hang delicately down the wearer’s neck was pressed firmly into their collar bone and then relaxed. It was just enough to be felt, a gentle squeeze. He really did know how to tease them.

Tav’s tail flicked at his leg as he lingered just behind them, his cool breath on the tip of their ear. He clasped the pendant before letting a hand trail down the back of their shoulders. “There.” His voice was a deep, intensional sultry sigh. He saw an opportunity to secure himself while they doubted their paladin… but he hesitated, his mind quickly lost in thoughts of the curves of their neck and jaw, enjoying the view of them. That was all it took for his opportunity to lead the scene to be lost.

Tav looked down at the gold set stone before turning to look over their shoulder at him. He hadn’t expected the look on their face, the softness in their eyes, or the words that came with them. “Can I kiss you?” They whispered back so incredibly soft that he wasn’t sure they’d spoken or if he’d just read their lips. This was not an intentionally sultry whisper or a performance of any kind; their soft question was like a whisper between actors on a stage in an improvised moment.

It was only then that it dawned on Astarion that he was exactly where he’d wanted to be earlier that day. Now, instead of Alfira, he was the co-star being seduced on stage by the lead. He had been struck down before he could even pounce, the sharpened steak of Tav’s charm piercing his heart and killing something in him he’d not notice for some time. He never stood a chance. He’d blame magic later but there was no magic in their voice, no influence from the weave or the hells, he whispered “Yes” in turn because he wanted to say yes. He wanted to kiss them.

Tav turned to face Astarion, the two eye to eye as Tav reached a hand for his cheek. His head relaxed into their calloused fingers, tilting his head as Tav’s turned the other way. They leaned in and kissed him, so gentle and sweet. Is this how they’d kissed Alfira? Their scarred lips were rough against his skin as they pulled at his lower lip just a little when they pulled away. His eyes slowly drifted open to be met with hellion blue, their otherworldly stare gentle and warm.

“You look good in gold.” He whispered against their lips, trying to recover but they didn’t let him. Those pointed claws combed through his white hair as their eyes wandered his face.

“I prefer silver.” Their nails were so delicate as they tucked a curl behind his pointed ear, tracing up the top of his ear and down the underside to his lobe.

If Astarion’s heart were still beating it might just skip. A hunger grew in him unlike his want for their blood. He wanted more than blood, more than a kiss even. Shit, he wasn’t supposed to get feelings like this. No, these weren’t feelings, he deluded himself, this was just carnal lust. His simple plan was getting less simple, but if this was his biggest complication, it wouldn’t be the worst. Now he just hoped he’d had a similar effect on them. Astarion advanced sharply into another kiss as Tav’s hands caught the collar of his shirt. He stepped forward, leading them back a step before they both paused.

Tav’s head pulled back as their hold of his shirt kept him just a breath away. Their eyes stared into his, searching for something in his gaze. For a moment there was nothing else in the world, just two actors on stage, gauging their next moves. He stared back, a spike of fear in him as he wondered if he’d done something wrong. Their face softened as they slowly leaned into him. Soft tugs at his lips eased his hunger some, but he continued to lead them back towards the stump they’d been sitting on earlier.

He sat them down gently before kneeling on the stump, somewhere between getting on top of them and sitting in their lap. Tav’s hands pulled him down, ushering him to melt into them.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion x tav #astarion #tav oc #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #all my homies hate kahga #kissing #slow burn #hurt/comfort #bg3 oc #enby tav #sfw fanfic

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fflurstuff · 9 months

Text

where i expand on some thoughts regarding gale's rejection of the halsin polyamory. a bit fluffy, a bit sad.

"Let's... let's not speak of this again. Given my condition, I'm not sure it's wise for me to invite undue stress upon myself." Fflur didn't blame him for his answer. She had expected it in it's entirety, frankly. She tugged Gale into an embrace, clutching him tightly. Either they committed themselves to one another, or they ended there. Honestly, the thought made her smile. Her and Gale. What was she thinking, breaking the sacred idea of only them... She felt his weight press against her in return, a grateful sigh escaping him at the relief that she had once again chosen not to abandon him. It made the guilt sink in... Fflur had never been committed before. She was the epitome of a bard, romancing and seducing and running away with no strings attached. She'd never have to think twice. Until now, of course, when someone else's feelings were on the line if she did. Someone she loved a lot... Her hand coursed along his jaw, tilting his head upward so that he would look at her. As his brown, sad gaze fell on her, she smiled as reassuringly as she could. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but she didn't want to cause him... more undue stress with words he might misinterpret. Gale buried his head in the crook of her neck once more with another breath, squeezing the tiefling close to himself. Her thumb pets along his beard back and forth, clutching him close to herself as if to apologize for even considering such a thing. It brushes against something cold, hanging from his left earlobe. Fflur knew what it was. It made her gaze blank. Almost a little frustrated, honestly. What she once thought was an attractive piece of jewelry had lost it's charm when she learned it's meaning. And yet her thumb played with it thoughtfully, prompting an upsetting question. She was his. Was he hers?

#bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale #gale of waterdeep #writing #fflur is being silly ofc he loves her

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lesfir · 6 months

Text

Astarion's ambitions and desires. Power, Evil and Good

Astarion discuss a possibility of controlling the tadpole. Astarion_InParty2_Nested_ControllingTadpole

Tiny scene, but interesting. ⟡Devnote⟡

I opened the dialog if Tav playing as a "good", but if Tav is chaotic, discards to lines that go in the "evil" branch. I am chaotic Tav. If playing as Dark Urge the "goodness" branch is unavailable even if the grove saved. After killing the bard, for sure. I almost restrained myself from posting the entire script of that scene here. Just a script. At the end a bit of my personal thoughts and preferences. though poor English :| The order of the line has been followed.

Astarion: You might be a little naive in the ways of the world, but I see promise in you. Ambition.

Astarion: So I was thinking, what would be the right thing to do when we get to Moonrise Towers? When we come face-to-face with whoever is controlling the parasites in our heads. Player: Seize control of the cult ourselves? Astarion: Yes, exactly! NodeContext: Surprised and hyped that the player got it in one. He didn't think you'd be on board with the idea.

Player: Evil power. I won't do it. Astarion: Power is just a tool, it's people that are good or evil. Astarion: And even they can be a little bit... CinematicNodeContext: Can't quite find the words to convey "even evil people can be a little bit good" so just mimes weighing scales with his hands. NodeContext: And even good or evil people can be a little bit complicated.

Astarion: I'm just saying there's an opportunity here. If we can control the tadpoles, we can keep ourselves safe and liberate the world from this evil. NodeContext: pause be 'liberate' as he considers what would sound good to a goody-two-shoes player. Astarion was thinking less liberate, more dominate.

1Player: No. Absolutely not. Astarion: So much for thinking you had ambition. 2Player: Or we could just enjoy having all that power.

\Jump in the thread where Tav would kill the Tieflings and\or Dark urge, who interested in safe and a little of world domination. As in the screen, In the "good" branch, Astarion doesn't mention his plan, but in the "evil" branch, he says it explicitly.

Astarion: I knew I was right about you. It's so good to find a kindred spirit. Astarion: Of course, this all assumes we live long enough to find this 'Moonrise'. But I'm feeling optimistic. END

*** Another branchs as a bonus. "Good hero" branch

Player: To destroy the cult and end its evil forever. Astarion: Gods... No, try to think outside the box. Just a little.

NodeContext: With a sigh, maybe pinching the bridge of his nose because the player is so fucking dense. But Astarion is trying to get the player on board with stealing a whole lot of power, so he has to lead them down the path and can't just call them an idiot.

"Astarion's plan"

Player: And how would we do that, exactly? Astarion: I mean - I assume there's some device controlling these things, so we find that, murder some people, and... NodeContext: Trying to sound like he knows what he's talking about, though he doesn't actually have a plan beyond "stealing power good" Astarion: Look, I'm not a 'details' person, all right? But turning up and causing chaos has worked for us so far. NodeContext: giving up trying to sound authoratitive

He has two reactions to rejection.

~"Goody-two-shoes" branch

Player: No. Absolutely not. Astarion: So much for thinking you had ambition. ~Not that Goody branch

Player: I'm getting this thing out of my head. End of story. or Player: I still want to get rid of the parasite. Astarion: A pity, I thought you had more ambition than that. Astarion: Still, we're not there yet. Maybe you'll see the light yet.

\In the "good" branch, he decides Tav has no ambition when Tav rejects his idea. In the "evil" branch, he thought Tav had more ambition and hopes for "light" in thought. Such a reaction cannot be obtained in the "good" branch. ***

My thoughts.

Ambition — I really love that word.

I love how the proud Prince, wants to take power and dominate the world. The plan: find, murder and... get what I want. He's smart, but his wild-fireworks nature is something. And it just melts me.

I love this conversation about good and evil. The theme of scales.

CinematicNodeContext: Can't quite find the words to convey "even evil people can be a little bit good" so just mimes weighing scales with his hands. NodeContext: And even good or evil people can be a little bit complicated.

\I love that devnote so much. I am so greedy for this topic.

NodeContext: pause be 'liberate' as he considers what would sound good to a goody-two-shoes player. Astarion was thinking less liberate, more dominate. \AUGH

I like to play chaotic Tav so Astarion can tempt me better to own the world and generally not understand what's hells in my Tav-head sometimes. (งᐖ)ว \But I've already been tempted into everything on the beach, and he doesn't know that :D\ I'm looking forward to 2055 when we can talk to characters like they're real. >:D I'll make cute Chaos.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion evil side #even evil people can be a little bit good #And even good or evil people can be a little bit complicated #baldur's gate 3 #my analysis

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bottomseareef · 4 months

Text

Get To Know Your Tav

Saw the template used by @thetavolution but the template was made by @sporeservant

What is your Tav’s…

Favorite Weapon: A Bow

Style of Combat: Sneaky of course but also quickly. His target is preferably dead before they know he’s there and feeling no pain. If his target suffers then it was probably on purpose.

Most Prized Possession: His human mother’s red feather that she wore on her cap. Also his red scarf that his tiefling mother made for him when he first went off with his human mother.

Deepest Desire: To be a father. His time with the tiefling kids made him realize that. He wants to adopt someday, maybe Yenna.

Guilty Pleasure: Honestly he likes killing way more than he’d admit he can get pretty sadistic. Granted he only does it to people who truly deserve it but he can still get carried away at times depending on who the person is.

Best-Kept Secret: His middle name. Not because it’s embarrassing but because it’s the name that was given to him by his tiefling mother when she found him as a baby before she knew there was a note with his birth given name in the basket he was abandoned in. Since it was given to him by the woman he considers his true mother he only lets people incredibly close to him call him Alasdair.

Greatest Strength: Charity I’d say. Anything of value he’s ever stolen rarely ever stayed in his hands for long before being given to an urchin, a beggar, or so forth.

Fatal Flaw: No self preservation. He’d gladly die for a good cause.

Favorite Smell: Campfires, Sulfur

Favorite Spell or Cantrip: Speak with Animals. Not that he can do it naturally.

Pet Peeve: Crossbows. Just say you’re bad with a bow.

Bad Habit: Finds it really hard to sleep alone. Grew up always around others so he hates trying to fall asleep in a secluded tent away from people. Don’t know if it counts as a bad habit but whatever.

Hidden Talent: Knows surface level knowledge of playing a lute from his tiefling mother because she’s a bard.

Leisure Activity: Climbing. Mostly buildings from back home. Doesn’t like climbing natural things like mountains or trees.

Favorite Drink: His tiefling mother’s tea specifically.

Comfort Food: Bex’s cookies specifically.

Favorite Person: A lot. His tiefling mother, his human mother, his human “aunts”, his human “cousins”, Karlach as a lover but all the other companions, all the tiefling refugees.

Favored Display of Affection (platonic and/or romantic): Touch and words of affirmation. He didn’t get much affection after going off with his human mother and rarely seeing his tiefling mother so any sort of close touch or affirming word will shock him and he will be replaying the moment in his head over and over. Not that his human mother wasn’t loving or affectionate she just had different ways of affection.

Fondest Childhood Memory: His tiefling mother consoling him as a small child after she helped get some makeshift horns he glued on his head off because he was trying to look like everyone else in the community of tieflings he grew up with.

Edit: I forgot I was gonna tag people so @gith-zeri and @sorcerous-caress if y’all want to

#my tav #bg3 tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #Sean Shanahan #tav

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commander-krios · 3 months

Note

How is Alyril'fryn and Juniper relationship to the other companions? Are they close with any of them, other than their LIs? What is their dynamic like?

Bonus: Do they have any notable relationships among the other non-companion characters? (You know, other than Rolan 😏)

Alyril'fryn

Aly never cared much about friendship before the tadpole crew. Any friends she might've had was always about survival, not much else. But with these idiots, she finds she actually enjoys being around them. In face, she got close to a few, mainly Shadowheart and Astarion.

With Shadowheart, it was a rough start. Shadowheart didn't really warm up to her until late Act 1/beginning Act 2. But they were a lot alike in many aspects, though they didn't realize it at the time. Aly agreed with Lae'zel a lot of the time, wanting to make sure they were focused on getting rid of the tadpole, not caring much about religion or Shadowheart's mission. But they ended up learning a lot about each other over the course of their journey, and formed a bond that neither wanted to break at the end.

With Astarion, Aly did realize she had a lot in common with him. Their violent, broken pasts that were catching up to them but also, how they viewed the world around them: that everyone was out for themselves, might as well protect yourself and to hell with the rest. But then, together, they realized that wasn't a healthy view of the world and broke that cycle together. Their dynamic was extremely sibling-like: bickering, teasing, hating/loving each other in equal measure.

The three of them; Aly, Astarion, Shadowheart; spend a lot of time together throughout their journey and even after, continue to be closet friends.

The only NPC besides Rugan (her ex, former Zhent partner) that made any difference on her in game was Barcus Wroot. As a drow and a deep gnome, their friendship arc fascinates me and I hope to explore it a bit in fic.

Juniper

Juniper makes friends easily. She's charismatic, knows how to play a crowd, can find convincing arguments for those who disagree with some of her choices (usually). But as far as close friends, I'd say she's only super close with a few people, mainly Gale and Karlach.

Karlach is the first. They have a lot in common besides being tieflings. They both love life, food, love. They enjoy a good fight and the celebration that comes after. They enjoy dancing and singing and if Juniper hadn't fallen for Rolan, 100 percent would she and Karlach be an item. Karlach is the first person she talks to when she wakes up and the last one she talks to before turning in at camp. They tend to cause more chaos than they stop, but that's part of their charm.

Gale is her best friend. He's like a brother to her, warm and kind and understanding. They protect each other, teach other, help each other. They have a shared love of cooking and reading, and will spend many nights discussing recipes or stories or history. Big nerds.

As far as NPCs go (I won't talk about Rolan since I can go on forever), Juniper is close with Volo, Dammon, Alfira, Cal, Lia, and the Tiefling kiddos).

Volo is obvious for bard reasons. Juniper enjoys his embellished stories and has fun co-writing a bunch of the stupidest tales with him. She goes to him if she needs a laugh and really does enjoy his company (much to the irritation of Rolan).

Cal/Lia become her family after everything. She and the two of them are a bonded trio, making life very difficult for Rolan lol

Alfira (and by extension, Lakrissa) are the reason she has a purpose in BG after game. Alfira begs her to help with the bard school and she does, helping with the preparation and opening, eventually taking on her own students. She loves Alfira so very much, she's become a sister in all but name.

The tiefling kids are also a joy to Juniper (and Zevlor as well, but more in a role model figure). She loves each and every one of them, but there are a handful that really got to her. Mirkon, Arabella, Ide, Mattis, and Silfy become so special to her that she does eventually adopt them.

And finally, Dammon. He's another close friend of hers, best friend perhaps. He's reliable, he's special, he reminds her so much of home with his sun stealing smile. She loves him, so much, and I have a thought to make him an official part of her relationship with Rolan.

#undead-potatoes #tav: alyril'fryn #tav: juniper #not me only really having a real clue with Juni #since she's taken over my life #this question took me soooo long but thank you for it!#i love doing these

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thunderwavesolveseverything · 4 months

Text

If I Knew It, I’d Cast Heroism

[Astarion x Named Tav]

“Darling,” Astarion chuckled, his deep voice filled with amusement. “As much as I love spending time with you, the thought of risking my life by infiltrating a goblin camp doesn’t sound appealing to me. I try to avoid heroics whenever possible, and you’ve already convinced me to do enough heroic acts in the short time I’ve known you to last me two lifetimes.”

“Right, okay, see you later then, I guess,” Phayelynn said, feeling slightly deflated as Astarion departed.

or...

Phayelynn finally bits back her pride and agrees to go with the group to see the healer, Nettie- but of course, they still don't find the cure they seek.

---

So I haven't really updated because I've been having issues with my computer and have no idea what to do about it, and I basically can't run Baldur's Gate anymore, which makes me super frustrated and discouraged to write, BUT I'm going to try and look on the bright side as my friend's dad is going to take a look at my computer and hopefully fingers cross can help me- cause I might die if I can't play any longer 😭😭😭

(word count: 4,771 )

Read on AO3 or below :)

Masterlist for Phayelynn's adventures here

If I Knew It, I’d Cast Heroism

Phayelynn’s feet dragged along the winding path that led back to the heart of the Emerald Grove. Every step felt heavier than the last as she carried the weight of guilt and shame that had been gnawing at her since the gates to the enclave opened.

The moment they arrived, the Tieflings’ hopeful eyes fixated on them, igniting a feeling of responsibility within Phayelynn. But she reminded herself of what she had told Gale last night - that she would stay focused on finding a cure for the parasite in their skulls and not get involved in other people’s business.

As they entered the druids’ quarters, Phayelynn couldn’t help the stern glare cast in Kagha’s direction. Her eyes were narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line, her hands balling up into fists as she fought against the urge to turn tail and leave.

Kagha, on the other hand, looked infuriatingly smug. Her posture was relaxed, her arms crossed, and a small, triumphant smile played at the corners of her lips. It was all too clear to Kagha that Phayelynn and her companions made little to no progress in their quest to save the Tieflings.

Phayelynn looked forward, biting her tongue as they crossed the threshold to Nettie’s infirmary.

The room itself was spacious, with high ceilings and vast walls. As soon as she stepped inside, her eyes were drawn towards the numerous trunks, chests, and clutter that filled every nook and cranny- from old books to peculiar trinkets with intricate designs and from a painting of a ginger bard that had to be worth a handful of gold pieces.

She could see that Astarion had also noticed them as he stood there twitching his fingers, his eyes scanning the room with a hint of curiosity. It was almost as if the room asked him to loot it.

Rough stone slab beds were arranged haphazardly around the room, and none appeared comfortable. It was quiet except for the gentle chirping coming from a corner.

As they drew closer, they saw a blue jay lying on a piece of cloth atop one of the slabs, a dwarven woman tending to it, her face etched with concentration. Despite the group’s arrival, she remained focused on her task, entirely devoted to the bird in her care. The woman’s movements were precise and deliberate as she assessed the bird’s injuries.

Gale moved to try to gain the woman’s attention. As he stepped forward and cleared his throat, he spoke, “Hello, I’m Gale of Water-” before the woman interrupted him.

She didn’t look up from her work as she cut him off, “Yes, I see you.” She waved her hand dismissively as a way of telling Gale to be quiet, “Give me a moment.”

Astarion first laughed at Gale’s expense before scowling at the dwarf that was keen to ignore them over some bird. “I think we’re more important than some bird.”

Shadowheart sighed heavily. She knew it was a matter of time before one of her companions said something to ruin yet another chance of healing themselves.

“Don’t be rude,” Shadowheart hissed at him, her nostrils flaring with irritation. “Can’t you exercise some patience? It’s not like we have anywhere else to be.”

“I’m only saying what’s on everyone’s mind,” Astarion defended himself, crossing his arms over his chest. “Honestly, druids and their pets,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

The woman remained focused on the task and stood straight from where she had been hunched over the bird. Muttering a healing spell, once the magic settled, she sighed in relief and smiled at the bird, indicating that she had done all she could to heal it.

Her expression turned serious, almost annoyed, as she approached the party. She gave them a questioning look, putting her hands on her hips expectantly, “Well, what is it you all need?”

“We’re looking for the druid, Nettie.” Shadowheart took a step forward.

The dwarf looked at them curiously and replied, “Well, you found her. But I still don’t know what you need from her.”

“We need healing as soon as possible.” Shadowheart continued, “It’s a matter of great importance.”

Nettie carefully looked at the group, scanning each one with a critical eye. She couldn’t see any visible injuries or illnesses on any of them. After a moment of observation, she pursed her lips and spoke, “From what I can see, you all seem to be healthy enough.”

However, her gaze lingered on Astarion for a moment longer than the others, and a smug smirk crossed her lips as she gave him a once-over. “Although,” she added, “the impatient one seems a little too pale for my liking.”

Astarion scoffed at her.

Nettie smirked, then returned to Shadowheart, studying her face carefully. “All in all, you all seem to be a little tired around the eyes at worst,” she finally concluded, her tone thoughtful as she assessed.

“I’d say more than tired.” Phayelynn snorted in response.

She felt Shadowheart’s warning stare and straightened up.

Phayelynn looked to Shadowheart, clearing her throat nervously before looking to Nettie. “It’s more than just tiredness,” Phayelynn said apprehensively. “Something crawled into our eyes.”

“Crawled in?” Phayelynn’s comment perplexed Nettie as she wondered what kind of bug or creature could have made its way into their eyes.

A sense of somber realization began to dawn on her. She stepped back, her expression turning grave as she asked, “Did it look like a tadpole? But not like any tadpole you’ve ever seen before. Perhaps something out of your worst nightmares? Covered in slime, with razor-sharp teeth and writhing tentacles that seem to writhe and squirm in every direction?”

Astarion appeared visibly irritated by Nettie’s question as he let out an exasperated huff. “What other kind is there?” His tone dripped with sarcasm. “It’s not like a frog jumped into our eyes.”

“Ignore the pale elf,” Shadowheart smiled mockingly. Her face then softened, revealing a hint of desperation and hope. “Can you help us or not?”

“Chk.” Lae’zel, standing silently in the background, rolled her eyes at the exchange.

Phayelynn saw Nettie’s eyes dart anxiously over the group standing before her. She tilted her head, wondering what the druid was thinking.

After a moment, Nettie spoke up, “Come with me,” she said, gesturing towards the back of the room. “I might be able to help. But we need to be quick about it.”

The others followed almost instantly, leaving Phayelynn and Lae’zel lagging. Something nagged in Phayelynn’s head that this was not a good idea.

Don’t follow the druid.

Phayelynn winced at the sudden voice in her head, noting the twitch of the tadpole in her skull. Did it know they were trying to get rid of it? She bit her lip, her eyes darting around, landing on Lae’zel, wondering if she heard the voice too.

Lae’zel, on the other hand, seemed more relaxed. However, her eyes were narrowed in suspicion as she scanned the surroundings, ever-vigilant, ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation.

Phayelynn felt a cold shiver run down her spine as Lae’zel shot her a disapproving glare. With a tone of frustration, Lae’zel spoke in a low growl, “You know as well as I do that this will all be for naught.” She paused, her piercing gaze locked on Phayelynn, “We are no closer to finding a cure for our infection than we are to transforming into Ghaik. When will you come to your senses and help me find my people?”

Phayelynn’s heart raced as she struggled to come up with a response. “I-I think we should see this through. We’re already here,” she stammered, trying to avoid Lae’zel’s penetrating stare.

The gith’s words had left an indelible mark on her mind, and she couldn’t shake off the feeling of inadequacy.

With a heavy sigh, Lae’zel relented and shoved past Phayleynn.

As soon as everyone entered the room, a loud noise echoed as a massive stone slab rose from the floor, blocking the only entrance and sealing them inside. The suddenness and weight of the stone slamming against the ground startled Phayelynn, causing her to jump in surprise. Her heart raced with the realization that they were now trapped inside.

The silence that followed as Nettie walked over to a table was almost unbearable, with only their collective breathing filling the room.

Nettie could feel the distrust emanating from them when the door clicked shut. She took a moment to compose herself, inhaling deeply and trying to project reassurance, “This is a sensitive matter,” she began, her voice calm. “It requires discretion. I don’t want to panic the Grove.”

Shadowheart carefully watched Nettie’s every move. The way she constantly fidgeted and looked around her table mirrored a wild animal about to pounce. As Shadowheart’s gaze shifted to the right, she noticed a Drow lying motionless on a nearby table, his body still and cold as ice.

Her frown deepened as she turned back to Nettie and asked with a hint of accusation, “Did he not appreciate your discretion?”

Nettie looked at the group with caution, her expression tense. “No,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “This one was just like you all.” Her voice was low, and she seemed to be holding something back.

“So, you killed him and laid him out on the table?” he asked, his tone suggesting that he wasn’t sure if he was impressed or threatened by the act. He rolled his eyes, “That’s reassuring.”

Nettie fiddled with the jars on the table as she explained, “We had no choice. He attacked us in the woods with a group of goblins.” She dipped a pointy thorned stick into one of the liquids inside the jar, her hands shaking slightly. “His tadpole crawled out of his head near moments after his death.”

The room fell silent as each tried to process the implications of Nettie’s words. They exchanged worried glances, unsure of what to say or do next.

“We were hoping for a less grave cure,” Gale said. He frowned, looking between his companions and then towards the door.

Another dead end.

“I promise you, I will do my best to remove the tadpoles.” Nettie looked determined as she turned to face the group, gripping the stick rigidly in her hand. “I’m no Master Halsin, mind you- he’d have your tadpoles out like that,” she said, snapping her fingers to emphasize her point. “Still, we have options.” With a nod towards the stick, she looked at each of them calmly and reassuringly, “Now, who’s first?”

Phayelynn stood at the edge of the room, watching her companions with a worried expression. They were all waiting for someone else to make the first move.

Phayelynn gathered her courage and took a step forward. She looked at Nettie, “What’s with the twig?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but her uneasiness was evident. The rest of the group looked at Nettie expectantly, waiting for her to respond.

“It’ll help,” Nettie said a little too quickly for Phayelynn’s liking. It was clear that Nettie had something up her sleeve. “Before we move forward, describe your symptoms to me?” Nettie asked hastily. “Have you noticed anything unusual or strange happening to you since you got infected?” Nettie continued her line of questioning.

Phayelynn’s stomach was churning. She looked back at the others as she felt her tadpole spasm again, letting her into the other’s minds, indicating that they, too, shared her feelings.

She’s up to something.

Don’t trust her.

Nettie quickly picked up on what was happening between them, “Are you speaking to each other in your minds?” she asked, trying to get more information.

Lae’zel was not pleased with Nettie’s questions and took a step forward, clarifying her intentions with a hand to the hilt of her sword. “You ask too many questions,” she said, her voice laced with a hint of threat.

But Nettie was not one to be intimidated. She stood her ground and spoke forcefully, “I’m only asking because there are lives on the line, and not just yours. We need to know what’s going on so we can help everyone affected by this parasite before you all turn, and we have an army of Mind Flayers terrorizing Faerûn!”

As Gale listened to the exchange, his shoulders slumped at the gravity of the situation. Despite his initial doubt, he knew it was better to be honest, “Yes, we’ve been able to merge our minds- communicate telepathically,” he admitted.

Both Lae’zel and Shadowheart made sounds of disapproval.

“Oh my,” Nettie gasped.

As she gazed down at the twig in her hand. The people in front of her posed a significant danger to themselves and everyone in Faerûn. The consequences of allowing them to walk free would be catastrophic.

But there were five of them and only one of her. While she was no stranger to fighting, she knew taking on all of them alone would be unwise. After all, she was more of a healer than a fighter, and her skills were better suited for mending wounds than inflicting them.

As she observed the group, Nettie could see the fear in their eyes, even with their hard exteriors. They weren’t a rag-tag of heartless monsters but individuals desperately seeking a cure.

She muttered a prayer under her breath, “Oh, Oak Father, guide me,” before pocketing the twig. She then turned to face the group as she tried to reason with them. “I need you to understand something- if any of you transform here, we are all in grave danger.” She paused, her features easing. “However, I can see that you all have good souls, and I believe that you deserve a chance to save yourselves.”

She then moved to her desk, shuffling through various vials until she found the one she was looking for. She clasped it firmly in her hand before turning to Phayelynn and offering it to her. But Phayelynn didn’t take it, giving the druid a suspicious look instead.

“Wait a minute,” she said, “what happened to the stick? And what’s in the vial? You said you were going to save us.”

“It was coated in Wyvern Poison, the same in that vial. I didn’t know if I could trust you,” Nettie admitted. “I don’t have a cure. Only a way out. I’m sorry for misleading you.”

The party exchanged glances, unsure of what to do next. Nettie watched the pale one’s fingers move reflexively to hover over the hilt of his daggers while the green-skinned one looked her over with a predatory gaze, seemingly assessing her like she was a potential meal.

“So, let me get this straight,” Phayelynn blinked, “You never had a cure; you were just going to kill us with that stick?” Phayelynn squinted her eyes, trying to think of her logic. She was outnumbered. She pointed a finger at the vial, continuing, “And now, Now, you’re giving us the same poison that you were going to use to kill us. Why should we trust you?”

Nettie sighed solemnly. “Because, like I said, you deserve a chance to free yourselves,” she replied, her voice firm yet gentle. “But I need you to swear to me that you’ll swallow the poison if you start to change.”

Astarion’s expression turned sour as he glared at Nettie, his eyes narrowed. “And you just expect us to do what you ask after trying to trick us?” he spat, his tone laced with outrage.

Nettie sighed. She knew she had made a mistake by trying to deceive them, but she had no choice. “I shouldn’t have tricked you,” she said. “But I’m willing to give you this chance. Please swear to me you’ll take it if you start to change.”

Lae’zel aggressively pushed herself to the front of the group, her sharp eyes fixed on the dwarven woman standing before her. She unsheathed her sword, pointing it at the druid, “Five against one. You’re against the odds.”

Nettie appeared unfazed by Lae’zel’s bravado, her expression stoic and unmoving in the face of the confrontation.

Gale stepped forward to intervene, sensing the escalating tension in the air. “Yes, it may be five against one in here,” he acknowledged, “but if we resort to violence, then it will be five against the entire grove. Let’s not be hasty and consider our options carefully,” he implored, hoping to defuse the situation before it spiraled out of control.

Phayelynn agreed with Gale. Attempting to fight their way through the entire grove was not an option. “Let’s just take the poison and leave,” Phayelynn suggested, hoping to avoid any unnecessary danger.

“No,” Nettie raised her voice, demanding, “You need to swear it.”

Phayelynn suppressed her mounting frustration, putting on her best Three Dragon Ante-face. She took a deep breath and spoke sincerely, “I swear.” It was a lie, of course, but she knew her bluff would be convincing enough.

Nettie handed the vial over to Phayelynn with a sense of gratitude. “I hope it doesn’t come to you needing it.”

Phayelynn carefully slipped the vial into her side bag as Gale turned to Nettie, his voice edged with hope. “Do you really think Master Halsin can cure us? We heard the goblin raiders took him.” His fingers wiggled with anticipation.

“Or was that a trick as well?” Shadowheart interjected, her voice sharp with accusation.

Nettie knew she deserved Shadowheart’s jibe for lying to them. She looked at Gale, hoping to change the subject. “Yes, he went looking for answers after the Mind Flayer ship crashed near here,” she said.

There was a tense pause as Nettie connected the dots. “That’s where you all got your tadpoles, wasn’t it?” she asked, her eyes widening in realization. Her gaze drifted towards the unconscious drow on the table. “Master Halsin and I went to check out the crash. That’s where we met the drow. Master Halsin went with some others to the goblin’s camp. But whatever he found there, he never made it back.”

Gale brought a finger to his chin in thought. “So, he must’ve found something he wasn’t supposed to.” he mused, “But what?”

“Exactly.” Nettie nodded, “And the goblins, they’ve been going on about some new goddess of theirs, the Absolute. It’s as if she possesses them. We captured one of them.”

Shadowheart furrowed her brows, crossing her arms over her chest. “The Absolute? I’ve never heard of her before.”

“All I know is that Halsin believed there was a connection between the recent surge of infected, the airship crash, and the goblin attacks,” Nettie explained. “He seemed to think that whoever this Absolute is was involved somehow.”

Astarion rolled his eyes and let out a deep sigh. He leaned back against a nearby bookshelf and looked amongst the others with a disinterested expression. “Come on now,” he said, “We came here for a cure, and all we got was a bottle of poison. Let’s spare ourselves from another sob story. It’s just the goblins acting out of their own madness. They’re ruthless little creatures. The druid was most likely met with an arrow through the chest the moment he got too close to the camp.”

Phayelynn saw the flash of grief across Nettie’s face from Astarion’s brash words. “Do you think he’s still alive?” she asked.

“I think so. I hope so,” Nettie replied, trying to reassure herself. “But as you can see,” she motioned back to the other room, “all the birds I’ve sent can’t get close enough without being shot down.”

Astarion made a sound of victory, pleased that Nettie’s words worked to prove his point further. Nettie shook her head, saddened, until a sudden realization came over her.

They were infected, just like the drow.

“Wait,” she said, her voice trembling with anticipation. “You lot could get closer than Halsin ever could. You have the tadpoles in your skulls. You can disguise yourselves as one of them. Speak with the goblin we captured. Learn what you can from her to aid your disguise.”

Nettie stood straight, her eyes locked with theirs. “If you could find Halsin and free him, we can discover what he learned. And perhaps he can save your life.”

Astarion’s eyes widened in disbelief as he heard Nettie’s suggestion. “No, we aren’t seriously considering this? Infiltrating a goblin camp- and whatever cult is taking refuge there?” he questioned with trepidation. His red eyes flashed on Phayelynn specifically, “What did we just learn about getting involved in things that don’t involve us.”

Gale seemed amused by Astarion’s irritation, “Astarion, are you afraid of a few goblins?” he teased.

Shadowheart said, “We’re running low on options. The grove was of no use to us. Ethel was no help,” she said, hating to admit that all her ideas of finding a cure were a waste of time. Her gaze shifted towards Lae’zel. “I’m not yet desperate enough to put my fate in a githyanki creche,” she added, her voice firm.

Lae’zel’s eyes dangerously flicked to Shadowheart as she prepared to react to the insult against her people. Phayelynn quickly stepped between them, looking towards Nettie, hoping for a solution. “Are you sure Halsin can help us?”

“I can’t make any promises, but I know Master Halsin is the only one close enough to understanding these things. He’s your best bet. Otherwise, that vial is your only option,” Nettie replied sympathically.

Lae’zel’s grip on her sword tightened as she seethed with anger. “No, it is not our only option. You are all k’chakhi. We must find a true ghustil. This Halsin will be just like the others,” she hissed.

Phayelynn gently placed her hand on Lae’zel’s shoulder, hoping to offer some comfort amid it all. Lae’zel’s reaction was immediate and intense as if Phayelynn’s touch had burned her skin. Phayelynn quickly removed her hand.

“Halsin is the wisest healer you’ll ever find in these parts.” Nettie persisted.

Phayelynn grimaced. Nettie was only making the situation worse, even if it was unintentional.

“Would you please just give us a moment?” Phayelynn turned to Nettie. She urged the others to step away as she turned her back to Nettie.

Astarion couldn’t help but roll his eyes as Phayelynn tried to take charge of the situation, even though she clearly had no idea what she was doing. Meanwhile, Lae’zel was glaring daggers at the spot where Phayelynn had touched her, clearly also unimpressed with her attempts at leadership.

Gale and Shadowheart exchange a brief, uncertain look before quietly turning their backs to Nettie.

Phayelynn stood tall, her gaze shifting between her friends as she spoke. “We all agreed that we’re in this together, so we need to make decisions together.” Her eyes sparkled with determination as she continued, “So, we vote. Who wants to go after Halsin?”

Phayelynn’s hand shot up. Gale’s hand followed, his eyes sharing her conviction. “I’m with you, Phayelynn,” he said, his voice ringing clear. “We need to find Halsin if we’re going to have any chance of getting rid of these damn tadpoles.”

Phayelynn couldn’t help but give Gale a smile as thanks for his support. She looked back at the others. Shadowheart raised her hand next, though not as high as Gale and certainly not as high as Phayelynn held hers.

“I suppose I’m in,” she said, a little more reserved. She blinked a few times, letting her hand drop to her side. “But I must admit, this whole raising our hands thing feels a little...childish.”

Phayelynn felt her cheeks flush as she realized how silly the suggestion must have sounded. She quickly lowered her hand, patting it against her thigh to hide embarrassment.

“Noted,” she said, trying to sound confident. She looked to Lae’zel and Astarion. She knew which plan won but didn’t want to thoroughly brush off Lae’zel and Astarion. She turned to Lae’zel next, “And who wants to go to the creche?”

With a scowl, Lae’zel refused to raise her hand, crossing her arms over her chest. Lae’zel clicked her tongue, turning her nose up at Phayelynn. Phayelynn held back a wince. She turned to Astarion, hoping he would have some input.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said with a smirk. “I’m sure whatever you all decide will be just fine. After all, I have complete faith in your abilities.”

Phayelynn rolled her eyes at how he spoke- at how he chose to accentuate certain words more over others. She wouldn’t engage in his jabs. “Well, those who don’t want to participate can stay at camp,” she said firmly.

With the decision made, Phayelynn turned to Gale and Shadowheart. “Okay, so it’s decided we go find Halsin.”

After gathering all the information they needed from Nettie, the party decided to split up to prepare. Excited at the prospect of going book shopping, Gale mentioned his desire to acquire more scrolls and potions to aid them.

Shadowheart offered to accompany him, using the opportunity to take a dig at Astarion and Lae’zel, “Since it’ll be just us three,” she said with narrowed eyes before giving Phayelynn a firm nod, “We’ll need more supplies if we want to stand a chance of saving Halsin. We’ll meet back at camp tonight and develop a proper plan.” She tilted her head back towards Astarion and Lae’zel. “I’m sure you two will be fine alone.”

Lae’zel scoffed at her comment as Shadowheart headed towards the market with Gale in tow. She didn’t give Phayelynn or Astarion a second glance as she started walking away, “I’ll be at camp waiting for you all to realize the futility of this endeavor.”

Phayelynn sighed deeply. She had been hoping for a much better outcome. She thought after Ethel, they could all work together.

Astarion looked at her slyly and said, “Don’t worry, darling. I’m sure we’ll all come together just fine at the end of this. After all, what’s an adventure without a little drama, right?” Astarion noticed the frown on her face and nudged her with his elbow, motioning towards her side bag. He was hinting about the vial Nettie had given her.

“It was a pretty bottle. But if I were you, I wouldn’t take Wyvern Poison, even if we do begin to turn,” he said with a smirk.

Phayelynn had almost forgotten about the vial. She looked up at Astarion and replied, “I don’t intend to. I didn’t want to start a fight with Nettie if I told her that.”

“Clever girl,” Astarion said with a grin. “Though, I suppose it would be entertaining to see if one of us did take it.”

Phayelynn couldn’t help but smile at how Astarion spoke, even if he was teasing her. She loved the way he always had a witty retort. And his handsome face didn’t hurt either, she thought as she looked over him. Feeling a flutter in her stomach, she quickly averted her eyes, shifting in her place.

“So there’s no convincing you to come with us?” Phayelynn asked, hoping to change Astarion’s mind about joining the group in infiltrating the goblin camp and saving a druid.

Phayelynn rolled her eyes, unable to resist a playful grin. “If I knew it, I’d cast heroism on you.”

“Let’s hope Gale doesn’t find a scroll then.” With a stretch and a yawn, Astarion looked up to the sun. “I think I’ll head back to camp. At least there, I can bask in the sun without you trying to convince me to head off to my death.”

“Right, okay, see you later then, I guess,” Phayelynn said, feeling slightly deflated as Astarion departed.

As Phayelynn made her way up the path toward the marketplace, her ears were suddenly met with a cacophony of notes that seemed to clash against each other. It was the sound of a lute being played, and it quickly became apparent that whoever was playing it was doing so poorly. The notes were jarring, and the rhythm was all over the place, yet it was oddly captivating. It sounded like someone was trying to play a beautiful piece of music but with little knowledge of how to play the instrument. Despite the painful sound, Phayelynn couldn’t help but feel curious about the effort being made. Intrigued, she decided to investigate the source of the sound.

#astarion x tav #tav bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion romance #astarion x mc #astarion x reader

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thebawdybaldurian · 4 months

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BG3FicFeb Day 12

SFW: Karlach introduces Tav to Dammon, and the bard tries her hardest to stoke the love connection between the two tieflings.

NSFW: Gale and his tiefling love interest share a bed after her dramatic rescue from Moonrise. Yet to confess their true feelings for one another, they share their bodies for the first time instead.

SFW: Meeting Favorite NPC

Background: Karlach has just returned with the tiefling caravan, having traveled with Halsin and Gale back to the Grove for a few days after the goblin camp was cleared. Karlach is a fan of some of Tav’s literary work, including a steamy romance book featuring a tiefling heroine.

“So,” Tav rejoined Karlach after finishing a few things for the party later in the evening. “When are you going to introduce me to this handsome mechanic of yours?” Tav asked, glancing over at the golden-skinned tiefling currently helping chop wood. “He’s barely taken his eyes off you.”

“Really?” Karlach nervously played with one of the buckles on her clothing.

“Mmmmhmm,” Tav grinned. “Every moment he hasn’t been helping someone with something. He seems lovely.”

“He…” Karlach glanced over at him, catching his eye. “I really like him,” she waved at him, beckoning him over.

“Hi, I’m Tav!” She reached out for his hand as he approached. “Wow, strong grip,” she prepared to butter up the both of them. “It’s no wonder she couldn’t stop talking about your prowess.”

“Has she?” Dammon blushed slightly, looking at Karlach. Karlach’s cheeks had already darkened and she glanced over at Tav wondering what she was doing.

“Oh yes, which speaks highly of you. She’s an excellent judge of character, alongside that killer body of hers. She’s the whole package really.”

“Tav!” Karlach gritted her teeth.

“You know she killed an entire room of goblins single-handedly and one of them still proposed to her with his dying breath.”

“Wow,” Dammon laughed, his cheeks still flushed.

“I’m serious,” Tav turned and patted the hidden scar on her back. “One of them stabbed me and she defended me with her life. She’s an amazing friend,” Tav gave Karlach a genuine smile, wishing she could hug her.

“Oh, what are friends for,” Karlach grinned widely, feeling a little sentimental herself. “And who would write the sequel to The Hellion of Hammerstaad if you’d died?” She nudged Tav carefully with her elbow.

“You wrote that?” Dammon looked at Tav curiously.

“You’ve read it?” Both women said nearly at once.

“Skimmed it,” he smiled. “No offense. I just thought Iraeya should’ve ended up with the tiefling ship captain instead.”

“But she and Alain were perfect for one another,” Karlach exclaimed, having read the book several times over.

“Perhaps in another book,” Dammon smiled. “But I still think he had some of his past to work through before he could give his heart fully to her.”

“Skimmed, huh,” Karlach teased him.

“Maybe that is something to explore in the next book,” Tav grinned widely. Not many would have caught onto the complexity of Alain’s character arc so accurately. She knew Karlach was in good hands with the handsome mechanic, in several respects. “Will you join us at our table tonight?” She asked, hoping to continue the love connection.

“Of course,” Dammon nodded with another smile at Karlach.

NSFW: Tav and LI forced to share a confined space or bedroll before confessing feelings

I couldn’t come up with a scenario where this happens with my Tav and either of her LIs, so I decided to use Gale and his OC LI, Syma.

Background: Syma is a tiefling sorcerer that Gale met at the post-goblin camp party. They spent the evening flirting, the excitement of their new connection causing Gale’s orb to act up. He was forced to reveal his affliction to his new love interest, which she was understanding, but confused about it. They kept in touch during their separate journeys via sending stones. Syma was captured in the caravan attack in the Shadow Curse and taken to Moonrise.

Content and Warnings: Male human x female tiefling. Oral & PIV sex, prehensile tail play, creative use of mage hands and grease spells, anal fingering.

Gale waited impatiently in the Last Light Inn. He paced between the front balcony that overlooked the bridge and the back balcony that overlooked the lake pier. He wasn’t sure which direction the stealth team would be coming in by, if they were successful in their rescue mission. When he saw what looked like a boat coming across the lake towards them, he ran downstairs as quickly as he could. He pushed his way past the Harpers that were guarding the dock, seeing a few people already off-loading from the boat. Tav stood on the dock helping everyone out of the crowded boat. “Gale!” He heard a voice call over the clamor of the frightened prisoners.

“Syma!” He spied her willowy in the middle of the boat, huddled in her cloak. He embraced her as soon as she stepped onto the dock. “Thank the Gods you are alright!”

“We nearly weren’t,” she trembled in his arms, weak from a lack of food and water.

“Are you injured?” He looked her over, caressing an old bruise on her face.

“Just tired and hungry,” she sunk into his arms.

“Come on then, let’s get you inside,” he pulled her away, giving Tav a thankful nod.

He helped her up to the inn and got her settled at a table, then went to get her something to eat. She ate voraciously, relaying everything that had happened between bites. She finished both her meal and story with an exhausted sigh. “Let’s get you upstairs to bed now,” Gale gently stroked her hand. She nodded and let him lead her upstairs.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Gale pulled back the covers of the bed for her and fluffed the pillows.

“Nonsense,” Syma smiled a little, unlacing her robe. “We are both adults. We can squeeze in together.”

“You’re sure?” He blushed a little.

��Of course,” she nodded, pulling open her robes. His face grew redder as she smiled wider. “I’m just going to have a quick wash,” she slipped her robe off, leaving her in only her underclothes.

Gale began to undress, unable to keep his eyes from her. She washed herself slowly, her tail swishing sensually as she wiped herself with a damp cloth. Gale felt himself growing hot all over and climbed into bed, turning his back towards her. When she finished washing, she turned towards the bed, disappointed to see that he’d already climbed into bed and was turned away from her. Despite her exhaustion, she’d had hopes for something more, as the last few times they’d spoken via sending stone, had ended with heavy breaths. She climbed into bed facing him, her knees pressing into the crook of his slightly.

He shifted slightly, putting a hand to his tattoo. The Elminster had stabilized the orb, but he still worried that too much excitement would push him over the edge. He still hadn’t told her about what Mystra had tasked him with either. He didn’t think it would be fair to start something with her if he was going to die soon. She noticed his hand there and wrapped her arm over his shoulder, entwining her fingers with his. He let out a quiet sigh and settled back against her slightly. They slept through the night nestled together. Gale awoke first, but he remained still so he could enjoy the warmth of her body.

His heart began to flutter as she stirred, pulling him closer to her. She nuzzled his neck, letting out a long sigh as she opened her eyes. “Oh…Gale,” she blushed a little, having awoken from a particularly racy dream, forgetting it was actually him there beside her and not just in the dream.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked, squeezing the hand that was still wrapped around his.

“A little too well,” she shifted slightly, the wetness of her thighs sliding against her skin. “Gale?” She took in a sharp breath, her cunt still throbbing from the dream. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course,” he carefully turned over in the cramped bed, seeing the flush across her lilac skin, her tail stroking her thigh absentmindedly. “Are you alright?”

“I,” she paused, not sure if she should just kiss him without another word. “I like you, Gale…I like the times we’ve spent together…even when we were apart,” she blushed a little more. “But…I’d like…something more,” her tail moved up to her hip, teasing along the hem of her underpants. His eyes glanced down, seeing the wet spot between her thighs, making his throat nearly close up.

“Are you…?” He took in a deep breath. “Do you want to…have sex with me?”

“Only if you want to,” she blushed even deeper. “If…if it’s safe,” she placed her hand on his tattoo.

“I…I very much do,” he took her hand, feeling a heat growing at the base of his spine. “It’s just that…I don’t know how long I have and it wouldn’t be fair to,” he continued before she put a finger to his lips.

“If we only get this once…that will be enough.”

“Then we should make it count,” he took her finger in his mouth sucking on it hungrily before he rolled her onto her back.

He climbed on top of her, already feeling a rush of blood heading for his cock. He kissed her greedily, barely letting her take a breath. He finally moved his mouth southward, pushing her nightshirt up to take a breast in his mouth. She felt a tickle near her waist, tugging at her underpants, but both Gale’s hands were fondling her breasts.

“What’s that?” She gasped as he sucked on her nipple.

“I needed more hands,” he grinned, as the invisible mage hand slowly pulled down her underpants.

“Well, if we’re letting ourselves use magic…” she bit her tongue playfully. She had to one up him, casting a grease spell alongside her mage hand, slipping the invisible hand into his shorts to stroke his hardening cock.

“Gods,” his eyes widened as the slick hand took a firm grip of him.

He nibbled down her torso, his mage hand finished with removing her underpants and heading back up between her legs, where his mouth joined it. He spread her legs apart, taking a generous lick of her sex, the magic hand working on her clit. “Mmmm,” she giggled, squirming against his tongue. “Your beard tickles….don’t you dare ever shave it.”

He grinned widely at her, soaking said beard in her arousal as his tongue explored every fold. She moaned and trembled, her greased mage hand still working up and down his shaft as she ran her fingers through his hair. She finally pulled his face up, looking at him in desperation. “I need you,” she used the hand to pull his cock completely out of his shorts. “Now.” She couldn’t even wait for him to pull them off.

He moved back between her thighs, finally taking control of his cock, teasing it near her entrance. “Please,” she looked in his eyes, holding his gaze as he slipped inside her. “Ohhh…”

“Syma,” he sighed on top of her, slowly sliding back and forth inside her.

“Gale,” she purred, wrapping her legs around his waist as he gripped both her hands tightly.

Even their mage hands met, tickling against one another as their conjurers decided what to do with them next. Soon the hands went back to work, exploring each other’s bodies. Gale’s returned to her breasts, teasing and pinching her nipples. Syma’s gripped his ass tightly, the greased fingers lingering near his asshole. “Do you….mmmm…like a finger or two…?” she breathed heavily as his pelvis circled around her clit with each thrust.

“I, uh…never really tried it,” he blushed.

The sex he performed with his Goddess had always been quite straightforward. Mystra received the majority of the pleasure and he was mostly there for the ride. He felt a little tinge of bitterness towards her, especially since she would deny him this new love. He shook off all thoughts of her and redoubled his effort with Syma, fucking her harder and begging her to fuck his ass with her mage fingers. She started slow with him, watching his expression as the greased finger eased its way in. He grunted lowly, his mouth twisted in a curious smile. “A little more?” She asked.

“Please,” he nodded as the finger went deeper. “Mmmm….yeah, more, uhhhhmmm,” he grunted, edging closer to climax.

“Ohhh you like that?” She teased, slapping the tip of her tail against his ass.

“Yes,” he begged. “I like all of it.”

“Mmm just don’t stop, Gale,” she moaned, fingering his ass and snapping her tail against his golden cheeks. “I’m so close.”

“I’m close too,” he moaned, increasing his pace, letting his mage hand add to the pressure on her clit.

“Yes….Gods, don’t stop Gale, oh….fuck….uhmmmmmm,” she cried loudly as he erupted inside her with a primal, guttural groan, having never felt release like that before. He trembled on top of her as they both lost concentration on their spells and quivered against one another.

“Ah…fuck…I…never, uhhhh,” Gale tried to catch his breath, his forehead pressed against hers.

“You are incredible,” Syma smiled, kissing him deeply.

“You are…indescribable,” he grinned happily, looking into her eyes. He felt ready to pour out his heart, desperate to tell her how he felt about her. But she needed to know about Mystra’s ultimatum first. He let himself enjoy this moment with her, rolling gently with her so she was now on top of him. She nestled against his chest, letting her hand stroke the soft hair that covered him. “Let’s stay here all day,” he traced his finger up her pointed ear and into her hair.

“How about a ten day?” she smiled and left a little kiss on his nipple before settling back against him.

#bard tav #karlach x dammon #dammon #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #bg3ficfeb

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