#Tav: Devorah

[judasiskariot]

💀😈Devorah😈💀

🤍💜🩵🩷❤️🌊🌌🔮🌌🌊❤️🩷🩵💜🤍

[judasiskariot]

Oh my Lolth and Loviatar my girl is in a fanfiction! 😱🤯🤩

🥹 And...you...changed it into her name 🥹 I am NOT crying 🥺😢🥹 You are!

*sniff sniff* 🤧🥹🥰

🤍💜🩵🩷❤️🌊🌌🔮🌌🌊❤️🩷🩵💜🤍

I still can't believe it. It is so BEAUTIFUL!

I just love how the story came out...and this in so many ways, as you know 😊 You wrote her story without even knowing her...this is... i call it a little bit fate bonding 😉 Believe me, like it or not, you will always have a special place in Devorah's heart now 🤍

Tender and Tired

So, me and @judasiskariot got chatting and with it came a prompt that I was given the OK to work on ^^ - So, of course, I did and somehow ended up writing the story of Devorah (she's so beautiful!) which was one of her Tav's. An amazing experience writing this and I'm just so glad you enjoyed it and am letting me share her with the world. <3

Prompt - "And of course combine angst and smut! 😆 also like...maybe... 🤔 fear of losing someone/fighting for their life and than survive, comforting after horror and rescue and relief sex because happy ending and reveal the feelings that they had not done before and almost never had the chance?"

Word Count - 3734 Words - CW - Angst / Pining / Smut - (Blowjob) - Happy ending ;)

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Just stay with me…”

The dark blood was seeping through Gale’s wrap shirt, a crimson weed growing amongst the fields of cotton lying on his abdomen. The sweat beaded on his brow and all Devorah could do was hold her hands to the wound, a quiet prayer hung unspoken on her lips, so many desperate words unshared between them never to be uttered.

---

Devorah lay within the forest, Astarion’s cool arms draped over her bare chest as the stars glistened above them in the night sky. Her eyes followed each constellation, a path home should she ever find herself truly lost, but could those same stars lead her to what her heart truly desired? These passionate nights had been ‘fun’ just as he’d promised, bodies entwined, the piercing bite to her neck leaving her tiptoeing the path between life and death. All she had to do was let go, just as he did, and yet, just like him, her mind was always elsewhere.

“You sleep less than me,” he mumbled into the crook of her neck, planting an icy kiss upon her soft skin.

“Hm. Difficult to sleep when we don’t know what’s ahead of us.”

He dragged a fingertip across her naked breast, causing her to suck in a breath in expectation. “I find it more difficult to sleep knowing what lies behind me.”

Devorah moved her body weight so she could face him. His cherry tinged eyes held an insatiable hunger but behind them a depth that would creep out, a bound child locked in darkness, scared of the burning light. She had heard the nightmares through the tadpole, seen the face of Cazador, felt the words of pure loathing spat at Astarion through the pinhole opening of an entombed prison. Anything ahead would be better than what he’d left behind.

“I guess I just hope for a future. You know marriage, romance, love…” she sighed. “But with the tadpoles, what if they-”

Astarion interrupted her, knowing where she was going with her questioning. “Then I’d kill you, just as you would kill me. We would both die long before that happened.” He lifted his head to be above her, their current position a little too emotionally intimate for his liking. “A much more pleasant run around the second time, I’m hoping.”

“Death? Or were you thinking of something else?” Devorah gave him a playful smirk, her hand running up the side of his pale-skinned abdomen.

“And here I thought I was the insatiable one.”

Love would have to wait, she decided, as once again she lost herself in the illusions of a near-death fantasy.

---

“Not relaxing in the comfort of another’s arms this evening, my dear?” Gale asked, not lifting his eyes from the pages before him.

Devorah scowled at him as he sat upon a woollen blanket near his tent. Obviously, the petty argument between her and Astarion had been heard. Nothing serious, but another bickering over a ritual she knew was too dangerous to commit to. Of course, he wanted that kind of power; who wouldn’t? But seven thousand souls were far more than she would allow to rest on her conscience.

“No, if you must know,” she said curtly, her mood still a simmering anger beneath the surface.

Since arriving in the Shadowlands, her passionate relationship had been affected by the surrounding curse. At least that was her only explanation for what was going on between her and Astarion. Their nights together were more of just scratching an itch with one another than enjoying each other’s company. Their conversations had dwindled to a couple of words, and the sniping and cattiness was becoming almost nightly. It had to be the curse. It was certainly not the way her attention kept being pulled by the deep brown eyes of her warm-blooded companion, one who spoke with the lilt of a poet, one who made her heart beat with a warmth seen only in Karlach.

Gale lifted his head, noting the aggression in her tone. “Do you want to discuss it?”

Devorah noted the space next to him, the way he placed his book aside with all his attention dedicated to her. “Honestly, that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“They why not simply sit and enjoy a moment of silence with me?” He lifted his hand and with it, the world grew quiet. There were no longer the groans of the cursed creatures in the distance, the crackling of the campfire was now but a dance of light and shadow, and Devorah for the first time in what felt like an age could hear her own thoughts without interruption of the outside world.

She sat beside him before closing her eyes and breathing deeply, noticing the lack of sound that came out as she exhaled. It was strangely comforting, a glimpse of death before darkness truly fell. She felt as Gale pulled himself closer to her, sharing his warmth and life, something she had missed in the arms of her lover. Her shoulders relaxed, her heartbeat calmed as if she were about to fall asleep, and for a moment there was no tadpole, no looming death over their heads.

Opening her eyes, she saw his soft gaze upon her, noticed the chestnut strands of hair that wisped upon his brow. If it wasn’t for the subtle ache in her neck, a reminder of nights gone, she knew she would have kissed him in that moment, a future of conjured peaceful moments filling her with longing.

But just as there was no sound, there were also no kisses on warm lips that night.

---

Days and nights passed where both Devorahand Gale denied what was happening between them. The hidden glances across flames, the brush of hands together in passing, a night under illusionary stars where both had dared not think of a bleak future. Neither would speak up about what was occurring, of the times where both found calm just in each other’s company. He would simply watch as she vanished into her lover’s tent, leaving him alone to wonder if things could have been different if he were different. And she would not speak of the nights of lying in cold arms, dreaming of a future she would never have, if only she had made different choices, if only she too were different.  

---

With the setting of the sun, the docks shone as if aflame, a low hung dust filling the air from the destruction of the city. Alone stood Devorah, her mind quiet, her heart slowed, her wishes of love buried under remembrance of her recent dance with Death. Now, with the Netherbrain defeated, her companions had dispersed, leaving her with only the tangled threads of fate and no clear path ahead. She looked out over the water; the portal having just vanished before her with the lives of her friends. She could see the scorch marks of Karlach’s departure, blackened and ashen, upon the boards beneath leather boots, a reminder that the God of Death could be beaten if only you were willing to fight for it, if only you kept the people you loved at your side.

As they’d left the Shadowlands, Devorah had spoken at length with Astarion about his own ideas of their ‘love’. It was all so complicated, many a vulnerable moment shared and considered, and both knew in their hearts that nothing good would come of remaining together. Instead, they left with growth and loss. Friendship had been the overall outcome of the discussion, and it was that which he certainly needed if he were to heal. She welcomed this, but deep down mourned what she had missed out on: not what she could have had with him, but what she’d given up on being with him in the first place.

Now, as the sun slowly descended across the skies of the Sword Coast, she thought of the one she knew she loved, the one she had let leave to save them both the heartbreak. The waves licked the pillars beneath her and with the exhaustion of victory came the further stirrings of her mind. A realisation that despite everything they had been through together, she had ended up alone. Shadowheart, Karlach, Wyll, all to Avernus in one fell swoop, Astarion fleeing as the sunlight cracked his porcelain flesh. And Gale…

Devorah sighed, remembering the few words he had spoken to her after all had happened, how the familiar sight of pain had clung on to him despite the orb’s stabilisation so long ago. He’d bid his farewells and sluggishly walked towards the city, his steps heavy, much like her own. So much went unsaid, so many glances at one another’s lips ignored, so many masks and walls to avoid hurting each other, just as they’d been hurt in the past.

She left the docks, a sense of weariness motioning her forward. Wine upon her lips was all she could think of, a scarlet swirl as it would pour into the glass, much like the trail of blood that lay upon the cobbles, a trail from the spot Gale had said his farewells. It took a moment for her mind to catch up with the sight, a realisation that his pain was not simply Mystra’s unfair consequences but that of something severely wrong and a man who would never wish to be a burden to another.   

Her slow steps upon the stones of the streets soon became a hurried pace as spattered traces of blood grew to crimson pools down shadowed alleyways. Her body ached with each quickened turn around the corners, but it mattered little as panic filled her lungs with the images of what she would find. If she had allowed him to leave with nothing but a simple goodbye, for him to then die alone… If only she had taken a chance, refused to lose herself in the cool embrace of another, then maybe she too could have beaten the God of Death with her loved one at her side. She rushed through groups of survivors, knowing she had to find him, hoping that he had not drawn his last breath and been taken from her for good.

---

It was in a small dimly lit room at the Elfsong Tavern that she found him; his purple robes tossed aside with little regard for where they landed, now stained with the blood from his own hands. He sat exhausted at the foot of the small bed, his fingertips sticky with coagulated blood and fumbling with the ties of his shirt as he tried to get to the wound and see the damage.

She was quickly upon him, moving his hands aside with ease, feeling the way he tried to prevent her from helping.

“It’s nothing, my dear,” he weakly spoke. Colour had drained from his cheeks, his normal slight tan now growing close to that of Astarion’s pallor.

“Don’t bullshit me, I’ve got eyes.” She tugged at the strings that had become knotted throughout the day, wishing he could have just worn buckles like the rest of them. “What even happened? Why didn’t you say anything? How could you…?” She was growing emotional with each second that passed, fear taking over. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, lose him.

He gripped her arm, the shades of red transferring to her own shirt. “A cultist as we climbed the tower. I didn’t notice…” His words were growing slower, quieter as the light faded from his eyes.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Just stay with me…”

The dark blood was seeping through Gale’swrap shirt, a crimson weed growing amongst the fields of cotton lying on his abdomen. The sweat beaded on his brow and all Devorah could do was hold her hands to the wound, a quiet prayer hung unspoken on her lips, so many desperate words unshared between them never to be uttered. His eyes grew heavy in front of her, his breaths slowing to quiet gasps. She gave up on the shirt, instead pressing her hands to the wound, the whispered prayer finally emerging with the faint glow under her fingertips. It wasn’t much, but it would keep him with her and for that, at least, she was thankful.

---

It had taken all Devorah’s strength to get Gale into the bed after he had lost consciousness. She’d managed the healing spell to keep him stable but knew with no potions available and her own spells limited to speaking with animals, speaking with the dead, anything but something useful, she’d struggle to get him back on his feet. She finally untied his shirt, revealing his chest beneath it, the dried blood staining his skin to a deep pink. The bleeding had thankfully stopped with the spell, but the remnants of the incident remained. She peeled back the fabric, finding the wound to his side, the deep cut that would surely leave a scar upon his pristine flesh.

Taking a cloth and a bowl of warm water, she perched herself on the edge of the cotton bedsheets next to him. Her voice was quiet, not wanting to wake him, but hoping that on some level he might hear her and find comfort. “Gale…Whatever are we going to do with you?” The cloth took some of the staining from his skin and she gave a gentle smile, seeing his normal colour slowly returning to him.

She took in a deep breath as she worked, relieving the tension in her shoulders. As she placed the cloth in the bowl, she saw as the water turned a murky red. “I always thought that if me and you got together, the first time I’d see you with your shirt off would be after too many glasses of wine and some of that poetry you dabbled in.” The cloth was wrung out before being placed back on his skin, a rogue drop of water running down the side of his stomach onto the bed.

“Always quite liked your poetry… Made me feel alive…” She chuckled to herself quietly. “Sorry, poor use of words there.” Devorah looked over her work, the way his wound was still angry but now no longer running the risk of infection. She’d need to collect some potions, but at least he wouldn’t die whilst she was away. Or at least she hoped he wouldn’t. Placing the damp cloth and bowl to the side, she glanced over at him before standing to leave. “Gale,” she hesitated. Would he hear her words? Were they worth saying when death still skulked in the shadows? “Nevermind… Just, don’t go anywhere.”   

---

It was hours before Gale woke again, his colour back to normal and the wound mostly healed. He felt the sting on his side, the ache of his muscles as he tried to pull himself up on the bed to sit up and gather his surroundings. Trying to retrace his steps proved difficult as he thought back to the docks and the winding trek to the tavern.

“You shouldn’t be trying to move, you know.”

He looked around for the voice; the world spinning a little with the movement. “Devorah?”

She approached him, a glass of cold water in her hand. “Yeah. How’re you feeling?”

“Like one that has been caught in the cascade of a Bibberbang explosion.”

She smiled at his answer. “Well, you’re still as articulate as ever.” Devorah passed him the water, her fingertips lightly brushing his as she handed over the glass. “Here, drink this. It’ll get rid the aftertaste of the potions.”

Gale had been curious what the obscure taste was upon his tongue, one of balsam and berries, sickly sweet. He grasped the water, savouring it in his mouth before swallowing and letting out a satisfied exhale. “You saved me.”

“It was just water,” she replied, dodging his true meaning, averting her gaze from him. His gratitude was not something she wanted. She would have walked through flames if it meant him living. She would have taken the orb from his chest and imbedded it in her own if it meant he could go on with his life.

“We both know that is not what I speak of. Devorah-”

“Gale,” she interrupted

“I love you.”

She lifted her head instantly, a hint of confusion on her face. “What did you say?”

He smiled softly, his fingertips raising up beneath her chin. “Something that I should have said to you many moons ago.” He should have said it under conjured starlight, or before they entered the High Hall. He should have said it with every breath that escaped him. “Devorah, I love you.”

For a moment she was speechless, her own words trapped in her throat as if saying them would dispel the illusion before her. They replayed in her head, the sweet melody of his voice once again calming her soul as he had done so many times before. The God of Death had once again been beaten. The tiptoed path upon a near-death precipice halted as a choice was made, as the love she had once dreamt of under glistening stars became finally within her grasp. “I love you too, Gale,” she whispered.

Warm lips found one another; the taste of healing potions shared between them, as a buried yearning was released. As Devorah moved herself on to Gale’s lap, he let out a soft groan.

“Careful, my love…”

Tender kisses were placed down his neck, down the weaving trails left by the orb. She traced her fingers gently down his body, each one working as if he were the rare tomes of a forbidden library. She could smell the traces of ink from his books still upon him, as if he still stood in his tower in Waterdeep. Each touch of his skin upon lips brought her a fresh wave of life that she had never felt before, a new longing for more of him. She would not lose herself; she would find him, and she would be with him in full.

Her kisses worked further down his body, through the soft bed of chest hair, her legs shifting down until she was sitting in front of him. “Let me love you, as you deserve to be loved.”

There was a moment of hesitation from Gale, his need to serve, his need to give, trying to burst through. He wanted to provide her with everything he’d been unable to, to make up for lost nights where he’d watched her depart too many times. He saw the love in eyes, felt as her hand trailed up his inner thigh, his touch starved body reacting with little regard for what his mind’s opinion was. All he could do was give a tentative nod.

Devorah’s hands came to the drawstrings of his trousers, a slow tug of each as she looked into his eyes. “Lie back, relax.”

Gale slid down slowly on the bed, his head still resting on the headboard to watch her. “Easy for you to say.”

She playfully smiled, pulling at his trousers and looking concerned as he winced with the rise of his hips. “Still in pain?”

“Nothing I’ve not felt before.”

“That’s not how it should be, though.” She ran her hand along his leg, a comforting palm to ease his nerves.

He sighed deeply with the sensation of her hand; his body exposed to her completely. There had been no wine, no poetry or charm for this moment. This was simply what she wanted to do, and he was struggling to accept that she could ever want this with him. As her flushed lips caught the skin of his stomach, he leant his head back, his eyes closing to fight past the overwhelming pound of his heart rate. It was as her hand came around the base of his cock that he let out an involuntary gasp and looked down at her. “You’re…”

“Do you trust me?”

His voice was almost a whisper. “Yes.”

As her heated mouth wrapped around him in full, there was little Gale could do than release a desperate sound. His thoughts ran wild, the sensation, the vulnerability, the love and devotion she was willing to give him after all that has happened. The pain in his side meant little to him as wave after wave of pleasure warmed his body. His hands found her shoulder, a grip on her skin to ground himself in reality. “Devorah…”

She continued to move, her tongue running up his length greedily. She heard her name, felt his grasp. “Hm?” she replied, not removing herself from what she had longed for in so long.

Words escaped him. The world around him abandoned him only to her touch, to the wordless declaration of love she gave to him, that she wanted to give to him. He could not speak, he could only release the long-held moans as her tongue ran along his shaft, as her moistened lips held him close. He glanced down, a quick glimpse of her watching his pleasure pushing him to the edge almost instantaneously. It had been so long since he had felt anything like that, long nights alone with his own touch, nothing in comparison to the way she touched him. Gale was overwhelmed, the sight of her, her eyes on his, her subtle smile curving with her lips as he clasped tighter to her shoulder. He wanted to fight it, wanted each second to span into infinite moments of enjoyment, but there was little he could do as all self-control shattered with her love.

Her pace quickened, her depth increasing, and his head fell back, a burning light of white in front of his eyes as his release hit, warm and unstoppable. He didn’t feel her move to his side as the room continued spinning around him, as the shadow of death was quickly replaced by nothing but the afterglow of life. It was as his heart rate slowed that he heard her speaking, a quiet admittance of feelings, the first that would come for many years to come.

“Thank you for not dying.” Devorah uttered, pausing for a second and placing her head on his head, listening to the way his heart beat as it slowly steadied. “And for making me feel alive.”

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

* Knocking at your door *

Can your Tav please come outside and play with my Tav?

🥺

Please? 🙏

[judasiskariot]

Tavs of judasiskariot/bhaalbattlebeerbard

Devorah

My third tav (durge run)

Quick Facts:

    Race: Drow

    Class: Bard (Lore bard)

    Instrument: Flute

    Gender: Female

    Pronouns: She/Her

    Sexuality: Pansexual

    Scent/Perfume: Jasmine, white tea, pink grapefruit, vanilla, rosé magnolia, pink hibiscus, guava

    Hair: White with changing coloured highlights

    Eyes: demonic white

    Tattoo: colour changing plant ranks on her neck and face

    Skin: light lichen

    Romance: Astarion + Halsin + Gale (She choose broken hearted Astarion over Gale, but can’t stop thinking about Gale and if he would give them another shot)

Pros & Cons, characterisation:

Real Dress Up Darling Doll

Likes to dye her hair and change the appearance of her look

Looking good is often more important to her than stats

Likes slutty outfits and has no problem with nudity

Chaotic evil and good (redeemed durge)

Likes to flirt; Is always up for a sexy time with everyone

Barcus awakened a gnome fetish in her, because as drow a man never was mean to her and since he was the first one to ever so “No” to her with his “I would kiss you but I don't want to do that to either of us” and too many drinks at the Tiefling party she decided drunk that it is her goal to kiss him (but she did not find the guts to do it so far) So this drunken night left some gnome fetish in her; the meaner and repellent they are, the more she wants them

Silly little goose

Goblin supporter, she absolutely loves them

Not the best fighter, not the best with spells, but she really tries her best and will never let you down

Want to be friends with Rolan and most people in general

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

For the Tav ask game! 💖

1 and 9 for Saulus, 2 and 19 for Dev!

Oh oh oh oh 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 *excited* Thanks for asking! 🤩😄

Saulus

What would your Tav’s greetings be (at different levels of approval)?

Low: “You are standing in the way of my writing light.”

“I wish you were drink, because I need one when talking to you.”

“Don’t bother a bhaal babe.”

“I heard you like Volo’s writing.”

Neutral: “Need some bardic inspiration?”

“Wait a second…let me write this down…and now I am here for you.”

“Found any bardic inspiration on the road?”

“Want to help me rhyming?”

High: “I was just about to come over to you!”

“Heard any gossip?”

“Are you flirting with me or what does the look on your face mean?”

“Did you want something from me or are just here to flirt?”

“Wanna hear my newest song?”

“Shots! Shots! Shots! Are you ready for some shots?”

“Can I tempt you to a drink? Or two…or three…”

Romanced: “Oh, there is my muse.”

*sheepish and flattered giggling while blushing*

“My favorite person. I would ask for a compliment, but you do not expect the sunset to admire you back.”

“Oh, you have got something on your face…” *kiss on the cheek* “It’s me! Hihi”

“You look like my newest poem.”

“Look owlbear cub, it is your daddy/mommy.”

“Hey Baby!”

9. What’s the significance behind your Tav’s name?

Oh I am glad you asked! 😃😁There is a good story to it!

I don't wanted to write it willy nilly unasked tho 😉

It comes (of course) from the biblic Saulus.

When we were kids/teenagers me and my sister played a PC game "Siege of Avalon". There you could attack the NPCs and they turned hostile.

When we tried that, we said we were playing as Saulus. It was the synonym for playing evil.

In my first playthrough of BG3 my Tav Jelayah was an almost paladin like fighter, only making the righteous decisions.

But when someone got me upset and there were evil options, I always said "I can't wait to do my evil run! Than they get what they deserve! I finally want to play as Saulus!" So Saulus became the equivalent for the evil playthrough for me.

And when I then set up my Durge and thought about a name, I just chose Saulus, since I had already said it a hundred times.

But in the end I could hardly get myself or her to be really evil because the options didn't feel good at the moment of decision.

(And when you look at it, it's also a good symbol for a redeemed Durge😉)

Now you know everything there is to know about her 😃

Devorah

2. Describe their tent setup! What’s on the outside? The inside?

Clothes – clothes everywhere. Mirrors and tons of dye. She has got a wardrobe where she ties up – eeehm I meant where she hides her secrets.

👑💄💋💄👑A make-up corner for styling and a corner for books, because she is in a book club with Gale.📖

She likes it pretty and cosy. 🌸💖🌸There have to be colorful flowers, luminous mushrooms. A drow love swing – I meant hammock.

19. What is their MBTI Type?

“Personality test? Overy thirty&flirty is all I say. I am a drow and my personality screams fabulous and magnificent and if anybody says anything else…well they are lying and only jealous! And if my personality does not speak for itself, I still have great boobs!”

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

Dev

9.11.15.17.24

I'm not sure how many questions there were when I started typing numbers...

I really like it that you are always up to play :D

Devorah

for the Tav question game

9. What’s the significance behind your Tav’s name?

In Mortkal Kombat 11 there is a character named D'Vorah and I really liked the sound of it and thought it is a cool name for a character in a fantasy world and kept in mind. And all the years later came my chance and I used it for my lovely Drow Devorah.

11. What is your Tav’s go-to comfort food?

Oh hell. Never thought about it. She is a drow, so it should be something classy from the underdark. But I don't know. Maybe Gale cooked something at camp that is now her favourite food...

15. Is your Tav more likely to fight/flight/freeze/fawn?

Devorah is really not the best in battle, which not means she is avoiding fights. The contrary to be honest. Classy drow behaviour + durge. She takes the risk and does what she can with her lore bard spells. She is more of a supporter of her companions. But not trained in armour but also not hiding, that means she gets very much damage, but always make sure that her companions get healed first.

17. Do they have any enemies outside of the main plot? Any friends?

Enemies: Akabi the djinn; he evaded his just punishment. But believe me...Devorah will find you in any realm and she will kill you and Marcoryl...but he paid for what he did because Devorah settled the bill for a friend.

(She is not a fan of the Emporer)

Friends: All the gnomes. Barcus and Wulbren are her homeboys!!!

(Orpheus also! Oh and Yurgir)

24. What does your Tav consider to be their own biggest character flaw?

Style before safety! And gnomes...she is a little bit obsessed with them. When a man is mean to her..it does things to her.

And maybe to be bad at making decisions...she made some wrong turns...

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

Me: This time my Tav Saulus gets the sexy Wavemother's Robe! 😁🔥💦👏🏻 Can't wait for her to look sexy and not only wearing heavy armour!

*remembers Redhammer hast to die for that*

Me: Oh...I think she is not going to wear it this time again.

Tav Saulus: Oh 😔 It's ok.

Astarion from the off: When it comes to me you don't have to wear anything at all, darling! 😏

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

🎃👻HAPPY HALLOWEEN!👻🎃

Saulus: Of course she would carve the owlbear cub into the pumpkin, in the sweetest way you can imagine 😍🥰 But on the other side, she would carve something so disturbing and gruesome that people would scream and run away 😱 And she is like: 🤷‍♀️

🎃🎃🎃

Devorah: First of all, she would wear nothing but an apron to carve a jack o'lantern. Or maybe even completely naked so that she would end up covered from head to toe in pumpkin. And what would her motive be? Let's go with the cliché of her kink: A gnome! Or better said, Barcus' grumpy face or better: She how she gives Barcus a kiss on the cheek.👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨 😂😂

🎃🎃🎃

Jelayah: She would let the owlbear cub decide what she should carve into the pumpkin. But I guess it is the owlbear cub in armour! ⚔️🗡️🛡️ Or some celtic and nordic ornaments, nordic runes and Yggdrasil 🌳

🍂🍁🎃🍁🍂

Quick Tav Fun Fact:

🍂🍁🎃🍁🍂

Quick Quick! Tell me what would your Tav's Jack O'Lantern look like? 😃

🎃🧹🐈‍⬛️👻🎃👻🐈‍⬛️🧹🎃

[judasiskariot]

judasiskariot / bhaalbattlebeerbard / MissZombieSlayer

reblog: multifandom / everything I like

current hyperfixation: BG3 (Astarion), RE

sideblog: @bhaal-battle-beer-bard (own works)

ao3: MissZombieSlayer

here for: reblogging, writing, chatting with mutuals

Masterlist

tavs: Saulus, Devorah, Jelayah

other ocs: RE: Harleen Napier, SPN: Torrie Callahan

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I am judasiskariot aka @bhaal-battle-beer-bard aka MissZombieSlayer

But you can also refer to me as precious demon of chaos (thank you @alpydk 😉😘) or Dean-wearing Astarion girlie (thanks @onlyancunin 😉)

I just reblog all the multifandom stuff I am obsessed with because I like it and to support all kind of artists here ❤🖤❤

Most of my current hyperfixations, of course.

And sometimes own stuff and just here to have a good time with my mutuals.

Current hyperfixation: Baldur’s Gate 3 (Yes this is pretty much an Astarion blog at the moment), Resident Evil

My BG3 bard sideblog is @bhaal-battle-beer-bard

There I post all my own works as my bard Tav Saulus. You can always send me requests and prompts for trades there. Poet in training here.

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current longfic: RE: Umbrella Asylum chapter 1/Prolog , 2 , 3 , 4, AO3, German

BG3: AstarionxTav Aristen poem, Gale Poetry 1, Gale Poetry 2, AstarionxTav Aristen short story, Astarionx(Durge) Tav Saulus short story

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proud mom of the tavs:

Jelayah, the half-elf fighter

Saulus, the Tiefling bard (durge)

Devorah, the Drow bard (durge)

Resident Evil: Harleen Napier, biomedical scientist, Evil Las Plagas Queen

Supernatural: Torrie Callahan, loving big sister and huntress

Talk and ask about my OCs all the time ❤😃❤

🪙♦⚜🪙♦⚜💔🖤🩸🖤💔⚜♦🪙⚜♦🪙

Want to talk about anything? I love to talk! Just message me (but only when you are nice!)

Don’t have nothing nice to say? Don't say anything at all!

DNI: Don't like what I write and think? Feel free to ignore and leave, not here to discuss, only to relax

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

Welcome to Saulus' new Waning Moon Distillery 🌙 Under New Management

My name is Saulus and I am the Dark Urge Tiefling (Vampire) Bhaal Battle Beer Bard Tav of @judasiskariot (aka MissZombieSlayer)

Together with my patreon and Mäzenin judasiskariot, I will write all the bardic inspiration stuff for you.

Be prepared for songs, dirty limericks, poetry, ballads, incorrect quotes and headcanons.

Masterlist

COMMISSIONS OPEN

Available in German and English (in mind that English is not my native language, please be merciful 🙏)

I am here for the art trade.

Take writing requests for some funny art trade.

You can commission me to write bard songs or poems about your favourite BG3 character or your Tav.

I don't say it is going to be good😆😅🙈 But I will always try my best and hope I create something that makes you smile and brings us joy to both of us 🙂🫶❤️

What I do:

- Most of the time funny roasting shenanigans tavern bard songs and dirty limericks

(About a specific person, topic or moment of your adventure)

But I can also do:

- Sad or romantic ballads about your Tav, character, romance

- Poem about your Tav, companion or romance by choice

- Poem or letter written by a character for your Tav/You or romance partner by choice (I will try at least; I don't understand every companion in the same intense way)

What I don't do:

- I guess we will see when it really happens

- A specific wordcount I guess, it will be one or two Word document/my poetry book side long most of the time

BEFORE I start writing:

* Let me know if you want it in rhymes or not (or I will do as I please) and if it should include a specific topic, theme, incident

* Let me know if there is any character or topic you totally not want to be roasted/being made fun of in the funny bard songs

(I mean it is all fun and everyone should be able to laugh about themselves but is totally fine to say what you like and what you dislike)

* When it will include your Tav I will need a picture and information about their background and personality

Want to talk about BG3 (and more)? I love to talk! Message me here or on mainblog @judasiskariot

Jelayah, the half-elf fighter Saulus, the Tiefling bard (durge) Devorah, the Drow bard (durge)

My fanfictions here:

AO3 + Animexx MissZombieSlayer

Want to know more about the Bhaal Battle Beer Bard?

I love art, poetry, vampires and being a slut.

Her name is Saulus. She is sassy little Dark Urge Tiefling Bhaal Battle Beer Bard, dreaming of a retirement with Astarion at Moonrise Towers with best friend Thisobald Thorm.

The Tiefling bard is banned from most gnome weddings and some cities in Faerûn 😂 There is some fun rivalry between her and Volo 😄

Her dream is to marry Astarion, start a family and settle down with him at Moonrise Towers to reopen the Waning Moon Distillery.

(The party, "Opa" Ketheric, bhaal cult and the undead horde are babysitters)

She uses two hand crossbows, wanted to be an evil bhaal babe, but ended up doing all the right things 😄 The Urge is still strong in her, so better not making here angry 😈

She is absolutely in love with Astarion and the owl bear cub (her son) and Thisobald is her best friend.

She is insecure about her Tiefling look, holding her tail when she is nervous. Saulus plays dirty funny limericks with the lute and mostly lyra but with two missing strings at the moment💀(maybe she doesn't take criticism very well😅)

She likes gnomes but is banned from most gnome festivities because she confuses them with kids and is singing too many dirty limericks (at children's birthday parties thinking it is a wedding; but also inappropriate for weddings though... 😅)

Saulus: "Let me tell you my bardic epos:

After all fires in Baldur's Gate are extinguished only one remains: Cazador's palace. I burn it down, so Astarion is getting his head clear and get over his Ascension Master God Complex. And because the handymen failed to build a palace door in owlbear size for our son the owlbear cup. In consequence of I won the drinking competition against my bff Thisobald Thorm I inherited (more or less official and legal) the propery deed of The Waning Moon.

Ketheric is still alive and our grandpa Ketheric now.

I marry Astarion, start a family and settle down with him at Moonrise Towers to reopen the Waning Moon Distillery.

And when Opa Ketheric is holding the little half Elf Tiefling Vampire baby for the first time, you can see how the light and will to live is coming back into his eyes.

I am the bard at the bar, barkeeper and my own best customer.

The party, "Opa" Ketheric, the bhaal cult and the undead ghoul horde of vampirelord Astarion are the babysitters. (Everyone wants to look after the baby but the party is failing miserable and Dammon is giving them babysitter lessons because Karlach is also pregnant and is lending Dadstarion Clive til her baby is coming. Opa Ketheric is always babysitter of the month, but surprisingly closed followed by the ghoul and bhaal assassins. Father bhaal is not really welcome but Sceleritas of course!)

Needless to say we still have a vacation home at Baldur's Gate and coming back there with a little family.

When we are walking through the city, we do it in single file and every child (also the owlbear cub of course!) is holding the tail of the sibling in front, so no one is getting lost in the big city. One child do not have a tail, because it is more elfish than the rest, but he is wearing a costume tail to be part of it and he insists that Papa Astarion is also wearing a fake one, so that they are all similar.

Astarion and I always must pay reparations, because the owlbear cup grew to like rose pedals at the wedding and now it destroys the gardens at Baldur's Gate.

I perform dirty limericks and funny songs about our friends and adventures at the Elfsong Tavern. And especially by the order of Lord Gortash many songs about Dragons(born).

Yeah almost everyone is alive.

Astarion and the party are the bouncers so everyone must watch the whole concert. Yes Astarion supports everything his wife does! The stupider, the better. And because as the only one he is wearing earplugs.

pics by aristenfromwarsaw

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

They look so beautiful in @alpydk 's post 🌌💜

It is such an honor to have my Tav Devorah in a fanfiction of yours and that you like her.

Tender and Tired

So, me and @judasiskariot got chatting and with it came a prompt that I was given the OK to work on ^^ - So, of course, I did and somehow ended up writing the story of Devorah (she's so beautiful!) which was one of her Tav's. An amazing experience writing this and I'm just so glad you enjoyed it and am letting me share her with the world. <3

Prompt - "And of course combine angst and smut! 😆 also like...maybe... 🤔 fear of losing someone/fighting for their life and than survive, comforting after horror and rescue and relief sex because happy ending and reveal the feelings that they had not done before and almost never had the chance?"

Word Count - 3734 Words - CW - Angst / Pining / Smut - (Blowjob) - Happy ending ;)

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Just stay with me…”

The dark blood was seeping through Gale’s wrap shirt, a crimson weed growing amongst the fields of cotton lying on his abdomen. The sweat beaded on his brow and all Devorah could do was hold her hands to the wound, a quiet prayer hung unspoken on her lips, so many desperate words unshared between them never to be uttered.

---

Devorah lay within the forest, Astarion’s cool arms draped over her bare chest as the stars glistened above them in the night sky. Her eyes followed each constellation, a path home should she ever find herself truly lost, but could those same stars lead her to what her heart truly desired? These passionate nights had been ‘fun’ just as he’d promised, bodies entwined, the piercing bite to her neck leaving her tiptoeing the path between life and death. All she had to do was let go, just as he did, and yet, just like him, her mind was always elsewhere.

“You sleep less than me,” he mumbled into the crook of her neck, planting an icy kiss upon her soft skin.

“Hm. Difficult to sleep when we don’t know what’s ahead of us.”

He dragged a fingertip across her naked breast, causing her to suck in a breath in expectation. “I find it more difficult to sleep knowing what lies behind me.”

Devorah moved her body weight so she could face him. His cherry tinged eyes held an insatiable hunger but behind them a depth that would creep out, a bound child locked in darkness, scared of the burning light. She had heard the nightmares through the tadpole, seen the face of Cazador, felt the words of pure loathing spat at Astarion through the pinhole opening of an entombed prison. Anything ahead would be better than what he’d left behind.

“I guess I just hope for a future. You know marriage, romance, love…” she sighed. “But with the tadpoles, what if they-”

Astarion interrupted her, knowing where she was going with her questioning. “Then I’d kill you, just as you would kill me. We would both die long before that happened.” He lifted his head to be above her, their current position a little too emotionally intimate for his liking. “A much more pleasant run around the second time, I’m hoping.”

“Death? Or were you thinking of something else?” Devorah gave him a playful smirk, her hand running up the side of his pale-skinned abdomen.

“And here I thought I was the insatiable one.”

Love would have to wait, she decided, as once again she lost herself in the illusions of a near-death fantasy.

---

“Not relaxing in the comfort of another’s arms this evening, my dear?” Gale asked, not lifting his eyes from the pages before him.

Devorah scowled at him as he sat upon a woollen blanket near his tent. Obviously, the petty argument between her and Astarion had been heard. Nothing serious, but another bickering over a ritual she knew was too dangerous to commit to. Of course, he wanted that kind of power; who wouldn’t? But seven thousand souls were far more than she would allow to rest on her conscience.

“No, if you must know,” she said curtly, her mood still a simmering anger beneath the surface.

Since arriving in the Shadowlands, her passionate relationship had been affected by the surrounding curse. At least that was her only explanation for what was going on between her and Astarion. Their nights together were more of just scratching an itch with one another than enjoying each other’s company. Their conversations had dwindled to a couple of words, and the sniping and cattiness was becoming almost nightly. It had to be the curse. It was certainly not the way her attention kept being pulled by the deep brown eyes of her warm-blooded companion, one who spoke with the lilt of a poet, one who made her heart beat with a warmth seen only in Karlach.

Gale lifted his head, noting the aggression in her tone. “Do you want to discuss it?”

Devorah noted the space next to him, the way he placed his book aside with all his attention dedicated to her. “Honestly, that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“They why not simply sit and enjoy a moment of silence with me?” He lifted his hand and with it, the world grew quiet. There were no longer the groans of the cursed creatures in the distance, the crackling of the campfire was now but a dance of light and shadow, and Devorah for the first time in what felt like an age could hear her own thoughts without interruption of the outside world.

She sat beside him before closing her eyes and breathing deeply, noticing the lack of sound that came out as she exhaled. It was strangely comforting, a glimpse of death before darkness truly fell. She felt as Gale pulled himself closer to her, sharing his warmth and life, something she had missed in the arms of her lover. Her shoulders relaxed, her heartbeat calmed as if she were about to fall asleep, and for a moment there was no tadpole, no looming death over their heads.

Opening her eyes, she saw his soft gaze upon her, noticed the chestnut strands of hair that wisped upon his brow. If it wasn’t for the subtle ache in her neck, a reminder of nights gone, she knew she would have kissed him in that moment, a future of conjured peaceful moments filling her with longing.

But just as there was no sound, there were also no kisses on warm lips that night.

---

Days and nights passed where both Devorahand Gale denied what was happening between them. The hidden glances across flames, the brush of hands together in passing, a night under illusionary stars where both had dared not think of a bleak future. Neither would speak up about what was occurring, of the times where both found calm just in each other’s company. He would simply watch as she vanished into her lover’s tent, leaving him alone to wonder if things could have been different if he were different. And she would not speak of the nights of lying in cold arms, dreaming of a future she would never have, if only she had made different choices, if only she too were different.  

---

With the setting of the sun, the docks shone as if aflame, a low hung dust filling the air from the destruction of the city. Alone stood Devorah, her mind quiet, her heart slowed, her wishes of love buried under remembrance of her recent dance with Death. Now, with the Netherbrain defeated, her companions had dispersed, leaving her with only the tangled threads of fate and no clear path ahead. She looked out over the water; the portal having just vanished before her with the lives of her friends. She could see the scorch marks of Karlach’s departure, blackened and ashen, upon the boards beneath leather boots, a reminder that the God of Death could be beaten if only you were willing to fight for it, if only you kept the people you loved at your side.

As they’d left the Shadowlands, Devorah had spoken at length with Astarion about his own ideas of their ‘love’. It was all so complicated, many a vulnerable moment shared and considered, and both knew in their hearts that nothing good would come of remaining together. Instead, they left with growth and loss. Friendship had been the overall outcome of the discussion, and it was that which he certainly needed if he were to heal. She welcomed this, but deep down mourned what she had missed out on: not what she could have had with him, but what she’d given up on being with him in the first place.

Now, as the sun slowly descended across the skies of the Sword Coast, she thought of the one she knew she loved, the one she had let leave to save them both the heartbreak. The waves licked the pillars beneath her and with the exhaustion of victory came the further stirrings of her mind. A realisation that despite everything they had been through together, she had ended up alone. Shadowheart, Karlach, Wyll, all to Avernus in one fell swoop, Astarion fleeing as the sunlight cracked his porcelain flesh. And Gale…

Devorah sighed, remembering the few words he had spoken to her after all had happened, how the familiar sight of pain had clung on to him despite the orb’s stabilisation so long ago. He’d bid his farewells and sluggishly walked towards the city, his steps heavy, much like her own. So much went unsaid, so many glances at one another’s lips ignored, so many masks and walls to avoid hurting each other, just as they’d been hurt in the past.

She left the docks, a sense of weariness motioning her forward. Wine upon her lips was all she could think of, a scarlet swirl as it would pour into the glass, much like the trail of blood that lay upon the cobbles, a trail from the spot Gale had said his farewells. It took a moment for her mind to catch up with the sight, a realisation that his pain was not simply Mystra’s unfair consequences but that of something severely wrong and a man who would never wish to be a burden to another.   

Her slow steps upon the stones of the streets soon became a hurried pace as spattered traces of blood grew to crimson pools down shadowed alleyways. Her body ached with each quickened turn around the corners, but it mattered little as panic filled her lungs with the images of what she would find. If she had allowed him to leave with nothing but a simple goodbye, for him to then die alone… If only she had taken a chance, refused to lose herself in the cool embrace of another, then maybe she too could have beaten the God of Death with her loved one at her side. She rushed through groups of survivors, knowing she had to find him, hoping that he had not drawn his last breath and been taken from her for good.

---

It was in a small dimly lit room at the Elfsong Tavern that she found him; his purple robes tossed aside with little regard for where they landed, now stained with the blood from his own hands. He sat exhausted at the foot of the small bed, his fingertips sticky with coagulated blood and fumbling with the ties of his shirt as he tried to get to the wound and see the damage.

She was quickly upon him, moving his hands aside with ease, feeling the way he tried to prevent her from helping.

“It’s nothing, my dear,” he weakly spoke. Colour had drained from his cheeks, his normal slight tan now growing close to that of Astarion’s pallor.

“Don’t bullshit me, I’ve got eyes.” She tugged at the strings that had become knotted throughout the day, wishing he could have just worn buckles like the rest of them. “What even happened? Why didn’t you say anything? How could you…?” She was growing emotional with each second that passed, fear taking over. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, lose him.

He gripped her arm, the shades of red transferring to her own shirt. “A cultist as we climbed the tower. I didn’t notice…” His words were growing slower, quieter as the light faded from his eyes.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Just stay with me…”

The dark blood was seeping through Gale’swrap shirt, a crimson weed growing amongst the fields of cotton lying on his abdomen. The sweat beaded on his brow and all Devorah could do was hold her hands to the wound, a quiet prayer hung unspoken on her lips, so many desperate words unshared between them never to be uttered. His eyes grew heavy in front of her, his breaths slowing to quiet gasps. She gave up on the shirt, instead pressing her hands to the wound, the whispered prayer finally emerging with the faint glow under her fingertips. It wasn’t much, but it would keep him with her and for that, at least, she was thankful.

---

It had taken all Devorah’s strength to get Gale into the bed after he had lost consciousness. She’d managed the healing spell to keep him stable but knew with no potions available and her own spells limited to speaking with animals, speaking with the dead, anything but something useful, she’d struggle to get him back on his feet. She finally untied his shirt, revealing his chest beneath it, the dried blood staining his skin to a deep pink. The bleeding had thankfully stopped with the spell, but the remnants of the incident remained. She peeled back the fabric, finding the wound to his side, the deep cut that would surely leave a scar upon his pristine flesh.

Taking a cloth and a bowl of warm water, she perched herself on the edge of the cotton bedsheets next to him. Her voice was quiet, not wanting to wake him, but hoping that on some level he might hear her and find comfort. “Gale…Whatever are we going to do with you?” The cloth took some of the staining from his skin and she gave a gentle smile, seeing his normal colour slowly returning to him.

She took in a deep breath as she worked, relieving the tension in her shoulders. As she placed the cloth in the bowl, she saw as the water turned a murky red. “I always thought that if me and you got together, the first time I’d see you with your shirt off would be after too many glasses of wine and some of that poetry you dabbled in.” The cloth was wrung out before being placed back on his skin, a rogue drop of water running down the side of his stomach onto the bed.

“Always quite liked your poetry… Made me feel alive…” She chuckled to herself quietly. “Sorry, poor use of words there.” Devorah looked over her work, the way his wound was still angry but now no longer running the risk of infection. She’d need to collect some potions, but at least he wouldn’t die whilst she was away. Or at least she hoped he wouldn’t. Placing the damp cloth and bowl to the side, she glanced over at him before standing to leave. “Gale,” she hesitated. Would he hear her words? Were they worth saying when death still skulked in the shadows? “Nevermind… Just, don’t go anywhere.”   

---

It was hours before Gale woke again, his colour back to normal and the wound mostly healed. He felt the sting on his side, the ache of his muscles as he tried to pull himself up on the bed to sit up and gather his surroundings. Trying to retrace his steps proved difficult as he thought back to the docks and the winding trek to the tavern.

“You shouldn’t be trying to move, you know.”

He looked around for the voice; the world spinning a little with the movement. “Devorah?”

She approached him, a glass of cold water in her hand. “Yeah. How’re you feeling?”

“Like one that has been caught in the cascade of a Bibberbang explosion.”

She smiled at his answer. “Well, you’re still as articulate as ever.” Devorah passed him the water, her fingertips lightly brushing his as she handed over the glass. “Here, drink this. It’ll get rid the aftertaste of the potions.”

Gale had been curious what the obscure taste was upon his tongue, one of balsam and berries, sickly sweet. He grasped the water, savouring it in his mouth before swallowing and letting out a satisfied exhale. “You saved me.”

“It was just water,” she replied, dodging his true meaning, averting her gaze from him. His gratitude was not something she wanted. She would have walked through flames if it meant him living. She would have taken the orb from his chest and imbedded it in her own if it meant he could go on with his life.

“We both know that is not what I speak of. Devorah-”

“Gale,” she interrupted

“I love you.”

She lifted her head instantly, a hint of confusion on her face. “What did you say?”

He smiled softly, his fingertips raising up beneath her chin. “Something that I should have said to you many moons ago.” He should have said it under conjured starlight, or before they entered the High Hall. He should have said it with every breath that escaped him. “Devorah, I love you.”

For a moment she was speechless, her own words trapped in her throat as if saying them would dispel the illusion before her. They replayed in her head, the sweet melody of his voice once again calming her soul as he had done so many times before. The God of Death had once again been beaten. The tiptoed path upon a near-death precipice halted as a choice was made, as the love she had once dreamt of under glistening stars became finally within her grasp. “I love you too, Gale,” she whispered.

Warm lips found one another; the taste of healing potions shared between them, as a buried yearning was released. As Devorah moved herself on to Gale’s lap, he let out a soft groan.

“Careful, my love…”

Tender kisses were placed down his neck, down the weaving trails left by the orb. She traced her fingers gently down his body, each one working as if he were the rare tomes of a forbidden library. She could smell the traces of ink from his books still upon him, as if he still stood in his tower in Waterdeep. Each touch of his skin upon lips brought her a fresh wave of life that she had never felt before, a new longing for more of him. She would not lose herself; she would find him, and she would be with him in full.

Her kisses worked further down his body, through the soft bed of chest hair, her legs shifting down until she was sitting in front of him. “Let me love you, as you deserve to be loved.”

There was a moment of hesitation from Gale, his need to serve, his need to give, trying to burst through. He wanted to provide her with everything he’d been unable to, to make up for lost nights where he’d watched her depart too many times. He saw the love in eyes, felt as her hand trailed up his inner thigh, his touch starved body reacting with little regard for what his mind’s opinion was. All he could do was give a tentative nod.

Devorah’s hands came to the drawstrings of his trousers, a slow tug of each as she looked into his eyes. “Lie back, relax.”

Gale slid down slowly on the bed, his head still resting on the headboard to watch her. “Easy for you to say.”

She playfully smiled, pulling at his trousers and looking concerned as he winced with the rise of his hips. “Still in pain?”

“Nothing I’ve not felt before.”

“That’s not how it should be, though.” She ran her hand along his leg, a comforting palm to ease his nerves.

He sighed deeply with the sensation of her hand; his body exposed to her completely. There had been no wine, no poetry or charm for this moment. This was simply what she wanted to do, and he was struggling to accept that she could ever want this with him. As her flushed lips caught the skin of his stomach, he leant his head back, his eyes closing to fight past the overwhelming pound of his heart rate. It was as her hand came around the base of his cock that he let out an involuntary gasp and looked down at her. “You’re…”

“Do you trust me?”

His voice was almost a whisper. “Yes.”

As her heated mouth wrapped around him in full, there was little Gale could do than release a desperate sound. His thoughts ran wild, the sensation, the vulnerability, the love and devotion she was willing to give him after all that has happened. The pain in his side meant little to him as wave after wave of pleasure warmed his body. His hands found her shoulder, a grip on her skin to ground himself in reality. “Devorah…”

She continued to move, her tongue running up his length greedily. She heard her name, felt his grasp. “Hm?” she replied, not removing herself from what she had longed for in so long.

Words escaped him. The world around him abandoned him only to her touch, to the wordless declaration of love she gave to him, that she wanted to give to him. He could not speak, he could only release the long-held moans as her tongue ran along his shaft, as her moistened lips held him close. He glanced down, a quick glimpse of her watching his pleasure pushing him to the edge almost instantaneously. It had been so long since he had felt anything like that, long nights alone with his own touch, nothing in comparison to the way she touched him. Gale was overwhelmed, the sight of her, her eyes on his, her subtle smile curving with her lips as he clasped tighter to her shoulder. He wanted to fight it, wanted each second to span into infinite moments of enjoyment, but there was little he could do as all self-control shattered with her love.

Her pace quickened, her depth increasing, and his head fell back, a burning light of white in front of his eyes as his release hit, warm and unstoppable. He didn’t feel her move to his side as the room continued spinning around him, as the shadow of death was quickly replaced by nothing but the afterglow of life. It was as his heart rate slowed that he heard her speaking, a quiet admittance of feelings, the first that would come for many years to come.

“Thank you for not dying.” Devorah uttered, pausing for a second and placing her head on his head, listening to the way his heart beat as it slowly steadied. “And for making me feel alive.”

[alpydk]

Tender and Tired

So, me and @judasiskariot got chatting and with it came a prompt that I was given the OK to work on ^^ - So, of course, I did and somehow ended up writing the story of Devorah (she's so beautiful!) which was one of her Tav's. An amazing experience writing this and I'm just so glad you enjoyed it and am letting me share her with the world. <3

Prompt - "And of course combine angst and smut! 😆 also like...maybe... 🤔 fear of losing someone/fighting for their life and than survive, comforting after horror and rescue and relief sex because happy ending and reveal the feelings that they had not done before and almost never had the chance?"

Word Count - 3734 Words - CW - Angst / Pining / Smut - (Blowjob) - Happy ending ;)

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Just stay with me…”

The dark blood was seeping through Gale’s wrap shirt, a crimson weed growing amongst the fields of cotton lying on his abdomen. The sweat beaded on his brow and all Devorah could do was hold her hands to the wound, a quiet prayer hung unspoken on her lips, so many desperate words unshared between them never to be uttered.

---

Devorah lay within the forest, Astarion’s cool arms draped over her bare chest as the stars glistened above them in the night sky. Her eyes followed each constellation, a path home should she ever find herself truly lost, but could those same stars lead her to what her heart truly desired? These passionate nights had been ‘fun’ just as he’d promised, bodies entwined, the piercing bite to her neck leaving her tiptoeing the path between life and death. All she had to do was let go, just as he did, and yet, just like him, her mind was always elsewhere.

“You sleep less than me,” he mumbled into the crook of her neck, planting an icy kiss upon her soft skin.

“Hm. Difficult to sleep when we don’t know what’s ahead of us.”

He dragged a fingertip across her naked breast, causing her to suck in a breath in expectation. “I find it more difficult to sleep knowing what lies behind me.”

Devorah moved her body weight so she could face him. His cherry tinged eyes held an insatiable hunger but behind them a depth that would creep out, a bound child locked in darkness, scared of the burning light. She had heard the nightmares through the tadpole, seen the face of Cazador, felt the words of pure loathing spat at Astarion through the pinhole opening of an entombed prison. Anything ahead would be better than what he’d left behind.

“I guess I just hope for a future. You know marriage, romance, love…” she sighed. “But with the tadpoles, what if they-”

Astarion interrupted her, knowing where she was going with her questioning. “Then I’d kill you, just as you would kill me. We would both die long before that happened.” He lifted his head to be above her, their current position a little too emotionally intimate for his liking. “A much more pleasant run around the second time, I’m hoping.”

“Death? Or were you thinking of something else?” Devorah gave him a playful smirk, her hand running up the side of his pale-skinned abdomen.

“And here I thought I was the insatiable one.”

Love would have to wait, she decided, as once again she lost herself in the illusions of a near-death fantasy.

---

“Not relaxing in the comfort of another’s arms this evening, my dear?” Gale asked, not lifting his eyes from the pages before him.

Devorah scowled at him as he sat upon a woollen blanket near his tent. Obviously, the petty argument between her and Astarion had been heard. Nothing serious, but another bickering over a ritual she knew was too dangerous to commit to. Of course, he wanted that kind of power; who wouldn’t? But seven thousand souls were far more than she would allow to rest on her conscience.

“No, if you must know,” she said curtly, her mood still a simmering anger beneath the surface.

Since arriving in the Shadowlands, her passionate relationship had been affected by the surrounding curse. At least that was her only explanation for what was going on between her and Astarion. Their nights together were more of just scratching an itch with one another than enjoying each other’s company. Their conversations had dwindled to a couple of words, and the sniping and cattiness was becoming almost nightly. It had to be the curse. It was certainly not the way her attention kept being pulled by the deep brown eyes of her warm-blooded companion, one who spoke with the lilt of a poet, one who made her heart beat with a warmth seen only in Karlach.

Gale lifted his head, noting the aggression in her tone. “Do you want to discuss it?”

Devorah noted the space next to him, the way he placed his book aside with all his attention dedicated to her. “Honestly, that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“They why not simply sit and enjoy a moment of silence with me?” He lifted his hand and with it, the world grew quiet. There were no longer the groans of the cursed creatures in the distance, the crackling of the campfire was now but a dance of light and shadow, and Devorah for the first time in what felt like an age could hear her own thoughts without interruption of the outside world.

She sat beside him before closing her eyes and breathing deeply, noticing the lack of sound that came out as she exhaled. It was strangely comforting, a glimpse of death before darkness truly fell. She felt as Gale pulled himself closer to her, sharing his warmth and life, something she had missed in the arms of her lover. Her shoulders relaxed, her heartbeat calmed as if she were about to fall asleep, and for a moment there was no tadpole, no looming death over their heads.

Opening her eyes, she saw his soft gaze upon her, noticed the chestnut strands of hair that wisped upon his brow. If it wasn’t for the subtle ache in her neck, a reminder of nights gone, she knew she would have kissed him in that moment, a future of conjured peaceful moments filling her with longing.

But just as there was no sound, there were also no kisses on warm lips that night.

---

Days and nights passed where both Devorahand Gale denied what was happening between them. The hidden glances across flames, the brush of hands together in passing, a night under illusionary stars where both had dared not think of a bleak future. Neither would speak up about what was occurring, of the times where both found calm just in each other’s company. He would simply watch as she vanished into her lover’s tent, leaving him alone to wonder if things could have been different if he were different. And she would not speak of the nights of lying in cold arms, dreaming of a future she would never have, if only she had made different choices, if only she too were different.  

---

With the setting of the sun, the docks shone as if aflame, a low hung dust filling the air from the destruction of the city. Alone stood Devorah, her mind quiet, her heart slowed, her wishes of love buried under remembrance of her recent dance with Death. Now, with the Netherbrain defeated, her companions had dispersed, leaving her with only the tangled threads of fate and no clear path ahead. She looked out over the water; the portal having just vanished before her with the lives of her friends. She could see the scorch marks of Karlach’s departure, blackened and ashen, upon the boards beneath leather boots, a reminder that the God of Death could be beaten if only you were willing to fight for it, if only you kept the people you loved at your side.

As they’d left the Shadowlands, Devorah had spoken at length with Astarion about his own ideas of their ‘love’. It was all so complicated, many a vulnerable moment shared and considered, and both knew in their hearts that nothing good would come of remaining together. Instead, they left with growth and loss. Friendship had been the overall outcome of the discussion, and it was that which he certainly needed if he were to heal. She welcomed this, but deep down mourned what she had missed out on: not what she could have had with him, but what she’d given up on being with him in the first place.

Now, as the sun slowly descended across the skies of the Sword Coast, she thought of the one she knew she loved, the one she had let leave to save them both the heartbreak. The waves licked the pillars beneath her and with the exhaustion of victory came the further stirrings of her mind. A realisation that despite everything they had been through together, she had ended up alone. Shadowheart, Karlach, Wyll, all to Avernus in one fell swoop, Astarion fleeing as the sunlight cracked his porcelain flesh. And Gale…

Devorah sighed, remembering the few words he had spoken to her after all had happened, how the familiar sight of pain had clung on to him despite the orb’s stabilisation so long ago. He’d bid his farewells and sluggishly walked towards the city, his steps heavy, much like her own. So much went unsaid, so many glances at one another’s lips ignored, so many masks and walls to avoid hurting each other, just as they’d been hurt in the past.

She left the docks, a sense of weariness motioning her forward. Wine upon her lips was all she could think of, a scarlet swirl as it would pour into the glass, much like the trail of blood that lay upon the cobbles, a trail from the spot Gale had said his farewells. It took a moment for her mind to catch up with the sight, a realisation that his pain was not simply Mystra’s unfair consequences but that of something severely wrong and a man who would never wish to be a burden to another.   

Her slow steps upon the stones of the streets soon became a hurried pace as spattered traces of blood grew to crimson pools down shadowed alleyways. Her body ached with each quickened turn around the corners, but it mattered little as panic filled her lungs with the images of what she would find. If she had allowed him to leave with nothing but a simple goodbye, for him to then die alone… If only she had taken a chance, refused to lose herself in the cool embrace of another, then maybe she too could have beaten the God of Death with her loved one at her side. She rushed through groups of survivors, knowing she had to find him, hoping that he had not drawn his last breath and been taken from her for good.

---

It was in a small dimly lit room at the Elfsong Tavern that she found him; his purple robes tossed aside with little regard for where they landed, now stained with the blood from his own hands. He sat exhausted at the foot of the small bed, his fingertips sticky with coagulated blood and fumbling with the ties of his shirt as he tried to get to the wound and see the damage.

She was quickly upon him, moving his hands aside with ease, feeling the way he tried to prevent her from helping.

“It’s nothing, my dear,” he weakly spoke. Colour had drained from his cheeks, his normal slight tan now growing close to that of Astarion’s pallor.

“Don’t bullshit me, I’ve got eyes.” She tugged at the strings that had become knotted throughout the day, wishing he could have just worn buckles like the rest of them. “What even happened? Why didn’t you say anything? How could you…?” She was growing emotional with each second that passed, fear taking over. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, lose him.

He gripped her arm, the shades of red transferring to her own shirt. “A cultist as we climbed the tower. I didn’t notice…” His words were growing slower, quieter as the light faded from his eyes.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Just stay with me…”

The dark blood was seeping through Gale’swrap shirt, a crimson weed growing amongst the fields of cotton lying on his abdomen. The sweat beaded on his brow and all Devorah could do was hold her hands to the wound, a quiet prayer hung unspoken on her lips, so many desperate words unshared between them never to be uttered. His eyes grew heavy in front of her, his breaths slowing to quiet gasps. She gave up on the shirt, instead pressing her hands to the wound, the whispered prayer finally emerging with the faint glow under her fingertips. It wasn’t much, but it would keep him with her and for that, at least, she was thankful.

---

It had taken all Devorah’s strength to get Gale into the bed after he had lost consciousness. She’d managed the healing spell to keep him stable but knew with no potions available and her own spells limited to speaking with animals, speaking with the dead, anything but something useful, she’d struggle to get him back on his feet. She finally untied his shirt, revealing his chest beneath it, the dried blood staining his skin to a deep pink. The bleeding had thankfully stopped with the spell, but the remnants of the incident remained. She peeled back the fabric, finding the wound to his side, the deep cut that would surely leave a scar upon his pristine flesh.

Taking a cloth and a bowl of warm water, she perched herself on the edge of the cotton bedsheets next to him. Her voice was quiet, not wanting to wake him, but hoping that on some level he might hear her and find comfort. “Gale…Whatever are we going to do with you?” The cloth took some of the staining from his skin and she gave a gentle smile, seeing his normal colour slowly returning to him.

She took in a deep breath as she worked, relieving the tension in her shoulders. As she placed the cloth in the bowl, she saw as the water turned a murky red. “I always thought that if me and you got together, the first time I’d see you with your shirt off would be after too many glasses of wine and some of that poetry you dabbled in.” The cloth was wrung out before being placed back on his skin, a rogue drop of water running down the side of his stomach onto the bed.

“Always quite liked your poetry… Made me feel alive…” She chuckled to herself quietly. “Sorry, poor use of words there.” Devorah looked over her work, the way his wound was still angry but now no longer running the risk of infection. She’d need to collect some potions, but at least he wouldn’t die whilst she was away. Or at least she hoped he wouldn’t. Placing the damp cloth and bowl to the side, she glanced over at him before standing to leave. “Gale,” she hesitated. Would he hear her words? Were they worth saying when death still skulked in the shadows? “Nevermind… Just, don’t go anywhere.”   

---

It was hours before Gale woke again, his colour back to normal and the wound mostly healed. He felt the sting on his side, the ache of his muscles as he tried to pull himself up on the bed to sit up and gather his surroundings. Trying to retrace his steps proved difficult as he thought back to the docks and the winding trek to the tavern.

“You shouldn’t be trying to move, you know.”

He looked around for the voice; the world spinning a little with the movement. “Devorah?”

She approached him, a glass of cold water in her hand. “Yeah. How’re you feeling?”

“Like one that has been caught in the cascade of a Bibberbang explosion.”

She smiled at his answer. “Well, you’re still as articulate as ever.” Devorah passed him the water, her fingertips lightly brushing his as she handed over the glass. “Here, drink this. It’ll get rid the aftertaste of the potions.”

Gale had been curious what the obscure taste was upon his tongue, one of balsam and berries, sickly sweet. He grasped the water, savouring it in his mouth before swallowing and letting out a satisfied exhale. “You saved me.”

“It was just water,” she replied, dodging his true meaning, averting her gaze from him. His gratitude was not something she wanted. She would have walked through flames if it meant him living. She would have taken the orb from his chest and imbedded it in her own if it meant he could go on with his life.

“We both know that is not what I speak of. Devorah-”

“Gale,” she interrupted

“I love you.”

She lifted her head instantly, a hint of confusion on her face. “What did you say?”

He smiled softly, his fingertips raising up beneath her chin. “Something that I should have said to you many moons ago.” He should have said it under conjured starlight, or before they entered the High Hall. He should have said it with every breath that escaped him. “Devorah, I love you.”

For a moment she was speechless, her own words trapped in her throat as if saying them would dispel the illusion before her. They replayed in her head, the sweet melody of his voice once again calming her soul as he had done so many times before. The God of Death had once again been beaten. The tiptoed path upon a near-death precipice halted as a choice was made, as the love she had once dreamt of under glistening stars became finally within her grasp. “I love you too, Gale,” she whispered.

Warm lips found one another; the taste of healing potions shared between them, as a buried yearning was released. As Devorah moved herself on to Gale’s lap, he let out a soft groan.

“Careful, my love…”

Tender kisses were placed down his neck, down the weaving trails left by the orb. She traced her fingers gently down his body, each one working as if he were the rare tomes of a forbidden library. She could smell the traces of ink from his books still upon him, as if he still stood in his tower in Waterdeep. Each touch of his skin upon lips brought her a fresh wave of life that she had never felt before, a new longing for more of him. She would not lose herself; she would find him, and she would be with him in full.

Her kisses worked further down his body, through the soft bed of chest hair, her legs shifting down until she was sitting in front of him. “Let me love you, as you deserve to be loved.”

There was a moment of hesitation from Gale, his need to serve, his need to give, trying to burst through. He wanted to provide her with everything he’d been unable to, to make up for lost nights where he’d watched her depart too many times. He saw the love in eyes, felt as her hand trailed up his inner thigh, his touch starved body reacting with little regard for what his mind’s opinion was. All he could do was give a tentative nod.

Devorah’s hands came to the drawstrings of his trousers, a slow tug of each as she looked into his eyes. “Lie back, relax.”

Gale slid down slowly on the bed, his head still resting on the headboard to watch her. “Easy for you to say.”

She playfully smiled, pulling at his trousers and looking concerned as he winced with the rise of his hips. “Still in pain?”

“Nothing I’ve not felt before.”

“That’s not how it should be, though.” She ran her hand along his leg, a comforting palm to ease his nerves.

He sighed deeply with the sensation of her hand; his body exposed to her completely. There had been no wine, no poetry or charm for this moment. This was simply what she wanted to do, and he was struggling to accept that she could ever want this with him. As her flushed lips caught the skin of his stomach, he leant his head back, his eyes closing to fight past the overwhelming pound of his heart rate. It was as her hand came around the base of his cock that he let out an involuntary gasp and looked down at her. “You’re…”

“Do you trust me?”

His voice was almost a whisper. “Yes.”

As her heated mouth wrapped around him in full, there was little Gale could do than release a desperate sound. His thoughts ran wild, the sensation, the vulnerability, the love and devotion she was willing to give him after all that has happened. The pain in his side meant little to him as wave after wave of pleasure warmed his body. His hands found her shoulder, a grip on her skin to ground himself in reality. “Devorah…”

She continued to move, her tongue running up his length greedily. She heard her name, felt his grasp. “Hm?” she replied, not removing herself from what she had longed for in so long.

Words escaped him. The world around him abandoned him only to her touch, to the wordless declaration of love she gave to him, that she wanted to give to him. He could not speak, he could only release the long-held moans as her tongue ran along his shaft, as her moistened lips held him close. He glanced down, a quick glimpse of her watching his pleasure pushing him to the edge almost instantaneously. It had been so long since he had felt anything like that, long nights alone with his own touch, nothing in comparison to the way she touched him. Gale was overwhelmed, the sight of her, her eyes on his, her subtle smile curving with her lips as he clasped tighter to her shoulder. He wanted to fight it, wanted each second to span into infinite moments of enjoyment, but there was little he could do as all self-control shattered with her love.

Her pace quickened, her depth increasing, and his head fell back, a burning light of white in front of his eyes as his release hit, warm and unstoppable. He didn’t feel her move to his side as the room continued spinning around him, as the shadow of death was quickly replaced by nothing but the afterglow of life. It was as his heart rate slowed that he heard her speaking, a quiet admittance of feelings, the first that would come for many years to come.

“Thank you for not dying.” Devorah uttered, pausing for a second and placing her head on his head, listening to the way his heart beat as it slowly steadied. “And for making me feel alive.”