#We love the little blue tiefling.

[ghostharvester]

Had to doodle this goof ball. This was a warmup sketch before I start working on other things.

[cavegirlpoems]

The Two D&Ds

I am going to make two statements:

I despise D&D, and consider it a parasitic drain on ttrpgs as an artform.

I love D&D and my fascination with it continually inspires me to create art using it.

These two statements might seem to be at odds, but in fact there is no conflict when one considers that the term 'D&D' is being used to refer to two completely different things. I hate one of those things and like the other. So let's unpack that. Firstly, there's D&D-as-a-lifestyle-brand. D&D as presented by critical role, by memes about horny bards and wholesome gay tiefling found families, and by the wider hasbro-sanctioned fandom. Where the actual design and mechanics of the game are a vague suggestion that exists homeopathically in the same vicinity as what you're doing. But really, you're inventing blorbos, collecting pretty dice, and speculating on events in an actual-play on twitch; the rules in that very pretty rulebook are an afterthought to the fandom.

Then there's D&D-as-a-family-of-ttrpg-mechanics. This covers the various editions of Dungeons & Dragons - from the white-box OD&D to 5th edition and everything in between - as well as various retroclones, hacks and spin-offs such as the OSR, Pathfinder, etc. This isn't defined as a cultural space; it's a set of game mechanics and design principles shared across the text of various games. And there's a lot of variation with the specifics, but like The Blues, if you know the basic structure it all makes sense.

The two D&Ds have very little to do with each other.

When indie people like myself criticise D&D, we are usually criticising the first one. We're generally outsiders to that fandom-space who are unhappy with the way that fandom encroches on, and ultimately stiffles, everything else in ttrpgs as an artistic medium. We tend also to dislike the very shallow interest in that fandom of the things we care about in ttrpgs - game design, gameplay, theory, criticism, etc.

Here's the thing. I am, personally, immensely critical of D&D-as-lifestyle-brand. I detest it, honestly. It strikes me as a corporate exploitation of the wider medium in pursuit of an easy profit, at the expense of catering to the lowest common denominator. Like invasive kudzu, it chokes out all ecological diversity in the art-form. Its a homogenising influence, and in my experience pretty anti-intillectual.

Because, at risk of sounding like a pseud, I consider ttrpg design to be an art-form that merits serious effort, discussion and appreciation.

However. D&D-as-a-set-of-games I actually quite like. I find myself fascinated by the way so many games take apart the starting framework of a given edition of D&D - like your 12-bar-blues structure - and adapt it and riff on it and fuse it with other genres. I find it interesting to track the way whole movements and genres mutate out from that starting position. Hell, I do that myself, a lot. A lot of my design work takes the very early editions of D&D as a starting point, gets into a groove, and riffs on it until it's seemingly unrecognisable.

To me, a work like Mork Borg is D&D (the second definition). It is, however, totally unrelated and unrecognisable to D&D (the first definition).

So I will talk about "D&D as the containment game for shit players" and I mean it, because I'm talking about type-1. And I'll do that while designing a paleolithic OSR game, because that's type-2. And by and large, all that happens when both those things intersect is people get upset.

[forgeofthenine]

How do you think things would play out if insecure human Tav had feelings for Dammon, but she mistakenly thought he was hitting on Karlach all those times he helped her with her heart? With Tav being oblivious and mistakes that it’s because she is human and that Karlach is a tiefling that he has no interest in her, but in reality he does. How do you think Dammon would respond if there’s a little comment like: “I know it’s Karlach you were hoping to see.”

I'm not sure if I leaned too into the insecure descriptor in the prompt, especially after not doing any writing for so long, but I hope everyone's able to enjoy. I missed my main man so much <3

She isn't you

"I know it's Karlach you were hoping to see."

You can see the whites of Dammons eyes grow as soon as the sentence leaves your mouth, shock washing over him. It's something you'd tiptoed around for months. The way Dammon looks at Karlach, how he gravitates towards her, how that kills you inside. No one could blame you for falling for the sweet blacksmith with his easy smile and firm confidence.

He'd spent these past months giving your companion the gift of touch back, laughing at her raunchy remarks and looking at her like she'd hung the moon and stars. Hours were spent in his forge fixing her heart, idle chatter between the three of you the only real entertainment. Hours of inadvertently third wheeling them all because of your own unrequited crush. Karlach was your friend though, and if they were happy then you weren't going to interfere.

His lips part slowly. Beautiful, chapped lips you so desperately want to kiss but know you never will. Soon, Dammon finds his voice again. He seems so genuinely confused, as if he can't understand where you got that idea.

"Why would I want Karlach when you're here?"

A long tail flicks behind him, nearly taking out a table leg. A concerned look covers the blacksmiths face as he leans in, hands spreading over his workbench. "Not that Karlach isn't lovely, she is, but I'd prefer to have you here." Dammon clarifies carefully.

It's your own turn to gawk now, looking at the teifling standing there in the firelight. You'd never expected this, to have him so quickly disagree with something you were so certain of. "But... Aren't you and Karlach..." You trail off, unsure of how to word things, picking at your nails.

"Aren't we... what? Seeing each other?" Dammon asks, rounding his work bench with a small chuckle, the wooden floor creaking under steady steps. "Is that assumption what's held you back?" His calloused hand takes yours, smoothing a thumb over your skin as the tiefling draws in your gaze. Blue eyes crinkle at the corners with a small grin, a teasing smile appearing on the blacksmiths face.

"Well, isn't it true?" You gape, gripping his hand. The new brazenness draws a full laugh from the tiefling, topped off with a shake of his head. It's a dumbfounding revelation, after months of near torture watching the two of them only to find out none of your assumptions were true. "Stop laughing, I'm being serious-" You insist, a small frown growing on your face.

Dammon calms himself, still grinning down at your pout. "I know, and I'm sorry." His voice is lower now, missing that teasing lilt you love so much. "There's nothing happening between Karlach and I, promise. I did ask her for some advice, though." He adds, gently squeezing the hand enveloped in his.

You cock your head, wondering whatever advice he could've gotten from Karlach. Something to do with Avernus or leaving the hells? Something tiefling related? The visible confusion almost makes Dammon laugh again, but he contains himself. Instead, a firm tail snakes it's way around your leg, winding around you with a firm pressure.

"I wanted to know how best to ask one of her friends out."

[bloodandoranges]

Ache.

Karlach x femTav/Reader / 18+/ Oral / Karlach loves to service

Tav felt her aching muscles relax as she settled into the warm river by their camp, a relaxed sigh escaping her. Despite it being so close to camp? bathing was a rarity; they were out adventuring and fighting so often that stopping to bathe really was a treat.

Of course, her having the time to bathe meant her companions did, too. She was roused from her thoughts at the sound of water sloshing about, quickly turning to face whoever decided now was a good time to take a bath, eyes widening at the sight of Karlach - as nude as the day she was born.

“Hey, soldier. Mind?” Karlach said cooly, already moving into the water, letting out a soft groan of delight.

“…Not at all.” Tav mumbled, face a little flush as she turned away. “…You know, I don’t mind if you stare. Keeps my ego nice and big,” Karlach laughed loudly, focused on cleaning the blood from her face and hair.

There was silence, for a moment, the two women staring one another down.

Tav gave a wheeze, embarrassed, a little ashamed at being caught staring. “Hey, don’t sweat it. I was staring too.” Karlach laughed loudly - gods, her laugh was so beautiful. Wait, what?

She was moving closer now too, but kept her distance…waiting to make sure she was reading things right. They /were/ both hot-headed fools.

Karlach was closing in a little now, gaze soft as she peered down at their merry little gangs fearless leader. Clawed hands reached for her face, and Tav took a sharp breath as Karlach gently wiped away some blood and dirt. “Sorry. It was bothering me.” She grinned, toothy and gorgeous and by the gods- she was delicious.

“You are such a tease.” Tav sighed out playfully as Karlach gave a loud laugh, squeezing her cheeks softly as she leaned in. “Yeah, yeah…I’m just the worst,” she sighed, forehead pressed against hers now as she took a breath. They stared at each other for a long, long moment… Tav wasn’t even sure who moved first, gasping as their lips locked together.

Her fingers quickly found their way into Karlachs thick, rowdy hair, giving a soft tug when a tongue slipped by her lips. Karlach groaned, body heating up quickly as she desperately grasped at her, lifting her legs around her waist. Shit.

“Karlach, I- gods,” Tav managed to whimper against her lips. She could already feel herself getting slick with desire…well, despite the water. Speaking of water - Karlach was hoisting her out of it, gently laying her back on the dirt… she hoped Tav didn’t mind getting a little muddy, because she wasn’t sure she’d make it to her tent.

Tav gave a bit of a grunt as she was laid back against the ground…it was uncomfortable, but the desire heating her body and flooding her senses was strong on her mind at current.

Karlach was much the same, blue flames flickering in her chest, her eyes…shit. She gave a breathless whine, adjusting to lift Tav’s legs over her shoulders, said woman staring up at her with wide eyes. Fuck.

“…Is this okay? Tell me if I’m getting ahead of myself.” Karlach breathed…clearly, it was taking all of her strength to hold back. “Gods, Karlach, I’ve been waiting for this since we picked you up.” Tav groaned out, and Karlach gave a booming laugh, not needing to be told twice.

She kissed over soft thighs, nuzzling and kissing over the skin, a groan escaping her as she breathed her in. She took her time to lavish her thighs in kisses and soft nips, excited by the sight of Tav squirming below her…at her mercy.

Was she really trying to tease her? Now!? Tav gave a desperate whine, hips bucking into the air slightly. “Sorry, baby…” Karlach cooed out an apology, and moment later, her tongue was sliding through soft, wet folds, a low groan escaping the tiefling.

“Shit!” Tav gasped in surprised, having expected Karlach to carry on the torture for far longer. Her head flew back, hand fumbling to cover her mouth…lest their companions hear.

Karlach lapped at her heat greedily; hands squeezing plump thighs wrapped around her head, gaze never leaving Tavs. She was clearly enjoying this just as much…maybe even more.

“Karlach, Gods-“ Tav whimpered, muffled by her hand as she arched into her touch, just as Karlach gave her clit a hard suck, tongue rolling over the sensitive bud. She was merciless, hardly pulling away to breath as she eagerly drank her in, Tav gasping and crying out below her.

“Shit, shit, shit, Karlach, I-“ she couldn’t even finish, because Karlach had done some wondrous manoeuvre with her tongue, and her orgasm was crashing down, causing her to cry out. Karlach held her in place, not daring to pull away until she was sure she was spent.

When she did tug away, she panted hard, gently untangling strong legs from around her shoulders, giving a booming laugh. “…How’d I do?” She cooed…her chin was dripping. Tav shuddered at the lewd sight - and the sweetness of her question.

“Amazing…as always.”

Tav was about to move to touch Karlach, but the other woman gently grabbed her hands, shaking her head. “Maybe later, hm? I just want to hold you…” she cooed, quick to curl herself around her body, nestling her face into the crook of her neck.

“Mmhm…okay. For now.” Tav cooed, kissing softly at her forehead.

[littlejuicebox]

Astarion and Tav at the nail salon.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: The city of Baldur’s Gate. Pure ridiculous drabble and fluff.

Rating/Warnings: PG / I don’t really think there’s any spoiler warnings besides brief mentions of places in BG3 I guess / NON-CANON

Word Count: I wrote this on my phone so tbd.

Notes: Okay I KNOW this doesn’t follow lore. But it’s cute, and heavily inspired by an interaction I had with my cutie patootie husband. Simple things make me happy.

“Two manicures, please.” You say to the tiefling attending the front desk.

“Okay, please go pick your color and come back to me when you’re ready.” The hostess responds with an opened-handed gesture toward the wall of nail polishes.

You smile and grab Astarion’s hand, leading him over to the array of polishes. The rogue trails behind you, simply following your lead. He’s never been in a place like this before, and doesn’t have the first clue about what to do. It’s clear he’s trying to go with the flow and simply trust your guidance.

“You can pick a color, if you’d like. Or if you don’t want to do color, you can do a clear coat.” You explain, gesturing to the colored polishes and then lifting a bottle of clear varnish to show him the alternative.

“Hmm.. as it’s my first time, my sweet, I think clear is a good starting point.” He responds, eyes brimming with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. “Though, if I like it… maybe I’ll do color the next time.”

You nod understandingly and then lift up a few different polishes, examining them closely as you aim to choose one for yourself. Perhaps a pale, neutral color… nothing too crazy. Astarion peruses the selection with you out of pure curiosity. While you’re focused on the more muted tones, he’s examining the bottles filled with sparkles and remarkably bright colors.

“Ooh. How about this one, my love?” He asks with a smile, wiggling a tiny bottle filled with a striking, bright shade of lapis.

You stared at the color. It wasn’t in your nature to pick something so… flamboyant. But the look of wonder on his face as he examined the little bottle convinced you to take the leap.

“For you, my Star, I’ll do it.” You respond, grabbing the bottle from the elf’s pale hands as he releases it with a pleased smile.

The two of you return to the counter, and the tiefling ushers you behind the curtain and into a room filled with several stalls for manicures and pedicures.

You two are sat side by side, soaking your hands in small bowls of warm, scented water. Astarion is loving it, and you can’t help but watch his genuine reactions at the new experience. They’re adorable. Another worker comes to you with glasses full of flavored water, and Astarion furrows his brows.

“We didn’t order these.” He says, looking at the glasses in confusion.

You can’t help but giggle, “My heart, they’re complimentary. They come with the service.”

Astarion’s mouth opens and his eyes widen in delighted shock. And then he’s happily sipping his flavored water from a straw as the worker starts to clean his cuticles. The tiny pile of dead flesh and nail clippings that the manicurist collects at the end causes the vampire’s nose to wrinkle.

“If I’d known all that was going on, I would’ve agreed to do this sooner.” He mumbles, eyeing the detritus in disgust.

He always kept his nails trimmed and clean, but this was another level for him entirely. You giggle at his face and then turn to focus on your own manicure, where the worker is painting a second coat of bright blue on your nails.

Before long, the two of you are finished with your services and head out the door with well-wishes. You two walk toward Elfsong Tavern, happy to take your rare day off to relax in the tavern lounge or at the bar. You’re examining your bright nails with interest, as Astarion is running his fingers over the smooth surface of his own shiny nails.

“You know… I never would have picked this for myself, Astarion. But I think I really like it.” You say, smiling at the vampire as you take his manicured hand in your own, interlocking your fingers with his. Astarion lifts your hand closer to his face so that he can intently examine your nails before looking at you.

“Well, of course, my sweet. You should know by now that I have excellent taste.” He gives you a sly smile and a wink, before pressing a quick kiss on your temple.

And really, how could you argue with that?

[beesxrated]

Emerald Again

3 years post Withers party and you meet Halsin again. 🪷->🪻

Masterlist

You make your way back to Emerald Grove, it's been almost 3 years since you've been there. It looks greener with all of the Tiefling gone. Beautiful flowers of many colors bloom around the gate, vines twisting around it keeping it shut. The only way you can see to get in is climbing the rocks next to the gate. As you do so you look up to see him waiting for you. His hair is longer and he has some new scars on his arms. Once you reach him he envelopes you in a tight hug.

"It has been too long." Halsin says, "I knew this day would come. I have missed you."

You stare up at him, you'd forgotten how tall he really was, "I have too. I needed to get away from the city, it's too loud."

"You are looking for the calmness of nature." He laughs, "I thought you might join me for a while."

You nod and he leads you into the Grove. You pass all the old barrels now covered in moss and any sign of the refugees being there is almost long gone. Druids walk freely and go about their business as if you aren't there. Halsin takes you down into the Inner Sanctum. Nettie greets you before quickly leaving, side eyeing Halsin on her way out. Once Nettie is out of sight Halsin kisses you, it's more passionate than it ever was before.

"I have missed you. I think about you always." He says keeping his face closer to yours.

You smile, "So have I. I wanted to come sooner, but I was worried you would be too busy."

"I am never too busy for you, my heart." Halsin kisses you again, "I only wish you would stay with me, here. Enjoy the wilderness as nature intended."

"I was hoping you'd say that." You laugh and kiss his cheek, "I was hoping to stay, as long as you wanted. I missed our time together, in nature."

"What about your other partner?"

You sigh, "We split about a year ago. We both wanted and needed different things."

"I am sorry it did not work out for you, but I am glad you are here with me."

Before you can answer he is kissing you again, hard and passionate. It's almost as if he's wanting this kiss to tell you how much he wanted you and missed you. Maybe even how much he loves you. He picks you up and carries you to a nearby table. He pulls away and almost rips off your blouse. Haslin's eyes never leave you or your body as they glow yellow for a few seconds before fading back to his blue ones. His lips make contact with your neck and travel lower down your body before he kisses you fully again.

Soon clothes are being thrown to the floor, mostly ripped if not completely destroyed. Hands touch every inch of skin available, desperate for something. His mouth leaves yours again venturing to your stomach, your thighs, your hips. He picks you back up again almost recreating your first night together. He pushes you hard against the chamber walls before going back down your body, just like he had the first time.

You get goose bumps as his tongue and hands find all of the right places. His warm breath sends shivers up your body. Halsin lets his hands travel up to your chest, grabbing and massaging. He pulls one of your legs over his shoulder for better access to what he wants. When he finally pulls away your body is overwhelmed with pleasure and sensation.

Halsin's lips meet yours again as he finally pleases himself, pushing into you. The noises coming from him are deep and loud, unafraid of anyone who could possibly be listening. It doesn't take long for him to finish. His voice and yours is hoarse, yours almost gone. He carries you back to one of the tables and sets you down, he kneels in front of you, placing his head in your lap.

For someone who talks so much, he has so little to say to you now. However, he seems calmer, happier. His shoulders seem looser, his breathing slower.

"I am sorry, I couldn't control myself." His voice is softer now than it was before.

You run your fingers through his hair, "That's okay. Perfect would mean there's nothing left to explore."

He laughs pulling his head up to look into your eyes, "I am glad you see it my way now."

The two of you spend the rest of the night in each other's arms. Naked, just as nature intended. Both of your hands touching every part of each other, pleasuring each other whenever feels right.

[grigori77]

Reasons to LOVE Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves

It's brand new in cinemas, so there are still plenty who ain't seen it, so if you're among 'em best skip this and just GO SEE IT, it's SO well worth it, genuinely it's one of the best new movies I've seen so far this year. Hope you love it as much as I did!

So, yeah, there you go - SPOILER WARNING, FOLKS!!! If you don't wanna get spoiled, RUN!!!

Still here? Okay, here we go then ...

This really is, UNAPOLOGETICALLY, a comedy. I mean yeah, this is a classic fantasy action adventure in the Willow, Krull or Ladyhawke mold, but it is also very enthusiastically POKING FUN at the classic conventions of the genre ... albeit CLEARLY done with great affection and love for the material, as only the best lampoons can be. So this is more The Princess Bride or Galaxy Quest than Your Highness or Spaceballs ...

Chris Pine is ALWAYS at his best when he's being FUNNY, so he is PERFECT here. Edgin is most definitely a bit of a douchebag, but he's the sweetest, most lovable douchebag you'll ever encounter.

Holga. Literally just EVERYTHING about Holga. She's my favourite character in this, this REALLY IS the best role that Michelle Rodriguez has EVER HAD, if you ask me. She's a total badass, a truly AMAZING FIGHTER, but I love that despite her dour demeanour she's actually quite sweet, gentle and really a great innocent in many ways. She's an absolute cinammon roll and must be protected at all costs.

OH MY GODS!!! All the easter eggs, SO MANY easter eggs ... FAR too many to count throughout, all the references and nods and winks to the game itself, all the spells and races and creatures and stuff ... but I love how the movie NEVER beats you over the head pointing any of it out, it just lets you enjoy it. So the proper fans will get a huge kick out of spotting it all, but casual viewers will just enjoy it as rich worldbuilding colour and flavour.

Seriously though, it's a D&D fan's DREAM!!! Not just the mimic, or the owlbear, or the gelatinous cube! SO MUCH to spot ...

Justice Smith's Simon gets THE CLEVEREST and best introduction in the film, I love the theatre scene, he's SO BAD at this while also simulataneously being really great. Totally sums up this gloriously clunky hot mess of a sorcerer ...

the opening is GENIUS, totally sets the movie up as it means to go on - the parole hearing is a brilliant comedic take on the scene-setting infodump which is brilliantly carried through in the way the movie delivers exposition in a fun way or just lets you absorb it through what's happening in each scene. This is the perfect, TEXTBOOK way to do it.

"That is one pudgy dragon!" LOL

Doric. Just EVERYTHING about Doric. Sophia Lillis' tiefling druid is a wonderful diminutive little action hero, so fiesty and capable. I love her. It's just a shame she's not primary coloured, I'd have loved it even more if she'd been blue, or red ...

The Wildshape Escape! XD Yeah, I love that, that's THE BEST set-piece in the whole movie, definitely, when Doric gets cught out spying and has to shapeshift on the fly to get away, and it all plays out in one immersive single shot that just leaves your heart in your mouth ...

Oh, the Speak With The Dead montage, that is comedy GOLD. Funniest scene in the whole movie. And with added payoff at the end! XD

Rege-Jean Page's Xenk Yendar. Oh boy, that paladin is something else. I love how LITERAL he is, he's like Drax in GOTG but much more intelligent. Y'know when Holga says: "You're not a lot of fun, are you?" to him? She's so wrong. I just wish there was more of him in this ...

The heist! Oh, the heist! So good ... the portal trick, it's great, love the way they did that, and then that HILARIOUS bard illusion distraction - Pine skipping the song like a broken record was just chef's kiss!

That wonderful wibbly-wobbly illusory reality thing whenever Simon tries to atune to the Helm ... wow, that is some spectacularly trippy shit. Granted, twice is fine for terms of pacing, but I could've done with a few more scenes of that, it's fascinating.

Hugh Grant really has just become a MASTER at playing smarmy, slimy duplicitous gits now, hasn't he? Forge is a reprehensible prick and I love it.

I love how they made Bradley Cooper a halfling for his cameo. They're never gonna let him live down the fact that he's now probably best known for playing a two-foot-tall talking racoon so forever after he will be a Short King.

Wow, Daisy Head's Sofina is a CRACKING villain, she's just SO CREEPY!!! I love how coolly menacing she is, a brilliant dark necromantic wizard that just makes your skin crawl. Especially at the end ... IS SHE a lich? Is that what they were doing there?

That whole big action climax, the showdown in the city centre is FIRE!!! It's so amazing, so brilliantly dynamic, with EVEN MORE great easter eggs! Simon and Sofina having an insanely awesome "arm wrestling" bout with Mage Hand versus Earthen Grasp (I think that's the spell, couldn't be sure), oh my gods! So cool ... and then the way they neutralised the threat! Brilliant.

Chloe Coleman's Kira is an absolutely adorable delight, and I think she's ENTIRELY JUSTIFIED in how pissed she is at Edgin for abandoning her. It makes the payoff when they finally make up so much better.

And that resurrection scene at the end? Yeah, sure, I saw that coming a mile off, but it was so well done, and they played it so well, that it was still SUCH a powerful scene even so. Just perfect.

Seriously, they just did this whole thing SO PERFECTLY. It's visually STUNNING, really it just looks AMAZING, and the action sequences are BRILLIANT but always feel entirely necessary for the story, which is how you want to do it. Best of all, though, is THE PACING!!! This is such a quick, breezy film, it just barrels along at a spectacular clip, so it never drags. Mark Kermode is right, even though this is two and a quarter hours long it doesn't FEEL LIKE IT, it feels like a super-trim 90-minute movie.

And it ties everything off nice and neat, too. Sure, there are definitely possibilities for the future, going forward if they make more, but if the movie DOES tank then it's fine, because this really does do a great job about feeling self-contained and telling its own complete story, so if we DON'T get more it won't be too big a disappointment ...

[dr-demi-bee]

Day 12--------------------Read on AO3--------------------------

Pairing: Rujyr/Astarion (and a little Halsin too) Prompt: Size difference Inappropriate use of tadpoles, fantasizing, fluff (if you squint), NSFW

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“What did our sweet old bear want to talk about?” Astarion titters softly with a mischevious grin as Rujyr joins him in his tent. “Did he finally confess his undying love for you?”

The tiefling pauses, half-way through sitting down beside him. Her eyes flit up to his and he likewise pauses at the lovely purple flush across those soft blue cheeks.

“Yes, actually,” Ru answers softly. She settles in her usual cross-legged fashion, but her expression looks far from serene - rather it looks perplexed.

Astarion balks. And then he guffaws. “Well. I guess I’m not surprised - he seems quite well acquainted with this sort of thing.”

“That makes one of us,” she returns with a shaky sigh.

Astarion titters another soft laugh. “What hovel were you living in that you didn’t see this coming back in the grove?”

“I had a few more pressing things on my mind!” Rujyr waves her hands back and forth, the black and red rosary beads wound around her wrist clacking gently. The rapid flicking of the spade of her tail shows the tell-tale signs of her exasperation.

“Well?” Astarion returns with a half grin. “What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him anything. I wanted to talk to you about it first.” The earnest look of concern in her eyes has his chest tightening with warmth. Always so sweet.

“Oh, Ru, I trust you to make choices that aren’t going to hurt what we have,” he answers, trying to allay her concerns. He won’t say no to her - not if it would drive her away. No, he needs her. Needs her love.

“He didn’t want just me, though,” Ru returns tentatively. “He wants you, too.”

“I-” That wasn’t what he had expected at all. “Oh. Really?”

“Yes,” the monk nods. “He was quite clear. But he wanted to approach me first out of consideration of your feelings.”

Rujyr looks up at him, those blazing teel eyes searching his. Full of a depth of compassion and care he had honestly thought impossible.

“I don’t want to do anything that would ever make you uncomfortable, Star. I love you, more than anything.” “And I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something for me. I’m perfectly content with what we have.”

“Even though we haven’t... you know - in a while?”

“Yes, my love,” “I don’t.... I don’t want to do anything without you. Don’t think for a second I need some kind of replacement.”

“Ah- I know. It’s a bit foolish of me,” he deflects her concern, wary. But still, he is deeply appreciative of her - of that earnest way she always reaches out for him. “But thank you for saying it.”

Rujyr takes his face between her hands gently. “I’m not just saying it, Star. I mean it. And it’s not foolish to have anxiety about it...”

He sighs softly, his expression softening and his mask slipping away - at least, just a bit. He presses one of his hands over hers, holding it to his face and relishing in the warmth of her skin on his. As usual, Rujyr strikes straight through to the heart of him, seeing him more clearly than any mirror ever could.

“Thank you, my love,” he murmurs softly. “You are truly much too good for me.”

Rujyr won’t argue it with him - they’ve done that a dozen times too many and he knows that look in her eyes. He gathers her into his arms, and the two of them nestle together into a comfortable silence for some time. Astarion listens to the steady, soothing rhythm of her heart. So calm even under the highest of pressures.

His sweet little monk... Gods, compared to Halsin she is quite little, isn’t she?

And now that’s he’s gotten the image in his mind he can’t seem to get it out.

“Could you imagine, though?”

The way Astarion says it is almost dreamy. Clearly scheming. Rujyr turns her head to look up at him from where she’s snuggled against his chest.

“Imagine what?”

“You know,” he purrs. “That.”

“You could at least be a little more specific.”

“Tsk- darling,” Astarion shakes his head with a coy little smirk. “He’s huge. All bulk and height. And you’re...not.”

“I- That’s-” That delicious purple flush is back, lovingly highlighting the navy of her freckles. Gods how he loves when her blood comes singing to the surface like this. When that soft ice blue melts a little bit to reveal something more...

“I’m just...imagining the possibilities,” he muses in that sultry, tantalizing purr of his, “Maybe offering a helping hand, or some encouragement as you try to take on the bear.”

Then Rujyr couldn’t help but picture it. Or she tried to. But she was struggling to make a clear image of what Astarion was proposing.

“Oh, sweet thing,” he murmurs softly as he takes in the scrunch of her brows. “I can see your imagination isn’t quite up to par for this one. Let me show you...”

Astarion presses a tender kiss to her crown, just between her horns. And as he does, he reaches out with his tadpole for hers. And the sweet thing, she lets him in. Always...

The three of them stand together in the woods - Rujyr sandwiched between Halsin and Astarion’s larger frames. The men take turns kissing and murmuring sweet nothings to her as they gradually free her of her monks attire. Soon enough Halsin steps away to strip bare and lays back on the grass.

Astarion guides her backwards then urges her to lower to her knees - moving her until Halsin’s hands grasp her hips. He feels the way she jolts at the contact and shushes her gently, nuzzling his face beside her ear.

“Easy, darling,” he murmurs softly. The two men guide her into place until she straddles Halsin’s bare hips. Astarion kisses her deeply, his hands expertly wringing pleasure out of her, preparing her with expect precision.

“Star,” Rujyr calls out to him breathlessly, clutching tight to Astarion’s arms. She trembles slightly, never once breaking her gaze on him.

“Eyes on me, my love,” Astarion purrs, holding her up. Slowly, he lowers her -

“That’s nothing like me!” Rujyr interrupts with a huff, breaking the connection. Her tail lashes back and forth behind her, irritated even as her cheeks flush further from the imagery. “And that’s not what I was thinking at all.”

“Well then how would you imagine it? Hm?” Astarion crosses his arms indignantly. “I don’t hear your bright ideas.”

“Like this-” She reaches out to grasp him by his temples and their tadpoles slam together once more.

Halsin lays on his back, holding Rujyr by the hips. But this time, she’s straddling his ribcage. And it’s Astarion who hovers, straddling the large druids hips. The monk holds him by the waist with one strong arm, gazing at him with a look of immensely tender affection.

Her other arm is snaked around his hip, curling over the soft plush of his rear as her greased fingers slide in and out of him, gently preparing him, working him open.

“That’s it my love,” she purrs sweetly as Astarion clutches at her shoulders and whimpers softly. “You’re doing so good...almost ready.”

“R-Ru,” he pants, need coiling tight in his stomach. The vampire pleads with her, “Stop teasing-”

“I think he’s ready, my heart,” Halsin murmurs in an eager, affectionate rumble from behind her. His large hands knead at her his.

“Are you?” Rujyr asks him softly. It’s clear from her gaze she’s checking in with him, making sure he’s alright to continue.

When Astarion nods, she slowly withdraws her fingers and helps to guide him onto Halsin’s waiting length. It’s slow and gentle, at Astarion’s pace, letting him control it - but Ruyjr can’t hold back her own moan as she watches him take the druid with a whine of pleasure.

But she doesn’t get to watch for long. While Astarion sets a steady pace with Halsin, the druid tugs on her hips, pulling her back until she’s positioned over his waiting mouth. After just a few moments she’s crying out, leaning forward against Halsin’s chest. She and Astarion find one another’s hands, threading their fingers together. And after a moment more, Rujyr leans down even further to take Astarion into her mouth.

“Hells below-” Astarion swears, breaking off their connection. He blinks rapidly for a moment with a shake of his head before he looks up at Rujyr once more. The little tiefling is flushed a deep purple across her cheeks and all the way to the tips of her ears. She offers a sheepish smile before averting her gaze.

“You absolute freak,” he chides with a playful grin. “You’re quite a cheeky little pup.”

“It’s just a thought,” she murmurs back. But Astarion finds her hand with his, threading their fingers together. With his other, he gently grasps Rujyr’s chin and tilts her gaze back to his.

“A beautiful one,” Astarion returns sincerely, ruby eyes glittering, “Where you prioritized my wants and my pleasure. Gods, what a treasure you are...”

Well before they ever bonded with Halsin, the two of them took to sharing these little fantasies back and forth together - in the privacy of their own minds and tents, and in the comfort of one another’s acceptance. Some nights it was just the two of them in their fantasies. Sometimes more... But every night it was an expression of love. Acceptance.

@lanafofana @lastlight-inn @waterdeep-weavemoss

@crimson-and-lavender @feedthepheasants @spooky-lil-bee

@heartfluttered

[vampiric-succulent]

OUAW EP 20:

It’s not even past the bean footage yet and already I have a thing to comment about—

“Hey. Keep working. Keep your hands down.” Idk if it’s just Mace or if it’s me but this is an interesting thing to start the episode with

Also I lowkey already watched this but considering that I wasn’t really paying attention due to Sleep im rewatching

Oh this is the Silly Goofy episode. Got it.

Watching this is so different now that I know how tall each of these people actually are in real life

“Mr Kremyyyyy….. Torbek had a nightmaaaare………..” torb <3

Hot jones?

Why is Mikey using the King Shmebulon voice

Oh the energy here is so weird today

NEXT YOURE GONNA TELL TORBEK THAT A SHRIMP FRIED THAT RICE and they’re gone

The improv shenanigans here are SO GOOD— “the wee hours” watches and the blue J and the bottle of something

HOT JONES!!!

“There was that guy and he was like… woah.” Bi Gricko!!!! “Why you always watching these kingly types and looking at their woah?” Lmfao Gideon you are no better

Degenerate Jones

TABAXI TORBEK and eughhh Mammon Tiefling Gricko (applying for all Mammon Tiefling Gricko)

I love how Kremy is super paranoid thinks everyone is out to get him but still immediately tells Gideon everything (I need to see Gideon do some sort of something back bc coalecroux is feeling increasingly one sided and it is making me sad)

“Torbek was happy with the infinite abyss”

THE FEDS

Poor Twig she went from dealing with absolute loneliness to dealing with all this bullshit. She needs to have the space to Bogart out a little bit like get this woman a destruction room

Twig 🤝 Torbek

coping mechanisms

Gideon has such older brother who acts like a father figure to Twig vibes

THE FEDS THEYRE IN THE CLOTHES

Torbek is simply following suit… following the suit to the ground lmfao

PENIS NOSE?????? HOW IS THAT AN OPTION

Gideon is overwhelmed by Penis im sorry

This is just reminding me of when Frost got the proud nudist curse and Derek made that slapping turn joke 😭

Obligatory “im walkin here” please stop

Nvm we have the coalecroux and also poly party affirmations (long shots and headcanons)

OH!!! Woah there Kremy

“Think of the Federal government!” Quick Gid take your clothes off!! The government!!!

OH NO THE ORCIFICATION

NO THE FUCKING CABINET

DEREK. DEREK WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT DEREK WE COULD HAVE NEVER GONE DOWN THAT ROAD

Love Torbek’s Spring Aladrin voice. It’s like some sort of old English aristocratic friend of Oscar Wilde.

Oop! Theseus’s Ship mentioned (kind of)

“Did we do a bunch of drugs before bed again?” Funny you should have asked that Gideon given what is now happening

“Tentacles probe me” “yes Gideon join us the time is now get naked”

WHY IS IT ERECT NOW DEREK. PUT THAT DOWN. “Something about beekeeper helmets…” HUH

Oh god Twig is gonna bogart out

PUT IT DOWN. PUT THAT THING DOWN AND AWAY.

“STOP BEING ERECT. STOP EATING MY BONES”

Love how Nikkie says “your mind is back to Gricko” and Mikey just starts screaming

Whoops!

It is so impressive how Twig is so controlled. Like she has every justification to absolutely freak out right now and she’s keeping calm and trying to manage things.

Thank god Hootsie is out of this lol

NO TWIG LOOK AWAY

“Torbek was *very* thorough.”

Okay seriously how old is Twig?? This is a very important question. Like REALLY important.

I’m imagining Spring Aladrin Torbek lying on a couch like he’s gonna say “draw me like one of your French girls”

Guys. Please. We are nearly halfway through this video. Please.

YES CAST SILENCE. HUSH MICHAEL.

No Twig it’s not your fault!!!!!!! No!!!!!!!!!!!

Not the Pennsylvanian sperm trees

“After what I’ve watched today I don’t think you’ll accomplish anything of value.”

Not the milk joke PLEASE y’all not the cilk

Frost is so sweet tho

No more Hot Joneses :(

Yesss Twig establish those boundaries!!!!

Tom is such a deep cut

Okay so Twig is at least 200 years old. Good. That’s really good. Good to know.

Grinko is having a stronk. Please call the Gronkulance.

WHAT HAPPENED TO HOOTSIE.

Omg she’s their niece!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But also HOLY FUCK HE HIT HER??? WITH A CABINET????????

“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.”

Menasith, and their older sibling Menapauthe.

The Glowing Anus 😭

Oh this is Nikkie’s fault. Fantastic.

MORNING FROTH CONGRATULATIONS EVERYONE

“That’s very funny Gricko. Your daughter is possibly bleeding out.”

Ohhhh Hootsie’s okay thank god

Gricko however is really not

Okay so I know this is a fantasy campaign and we are in the literal Feywild so this like kind of doesn’t matter but how does Gideon get energy??? Does he need to absorb nutrients or is it just sort of as long as he keeps his internal furnace alive he’s okay?

Twig boundaries 100 with regards to Torbek but fully get the party’s concerns

Also Twigsy ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Not Gricko being hypnotized by Spring Aladrin Torbek’s hip sway

Torbek does not know but Torbek must dance!!!!

Oh Torbek’s ticket is so sad

“This is an Acorn Satchel!!!”

Mikey annoying Nikkie so much that she just takes things away

Frost getting jealous over the Gricko impression 😭❤️

What is a mud meffet?????

I love Andy so much. Oh he’s wonderful. So glad he’s here.

KLUTZY RETURNS for like two seconds

Love these guys. Oh my lord. Also what the fuck happened in the first like hour???? Still a fun little episode.

[honourablejester]

D&D Character Concept: The Druid in the Walls

You know when weird bits of inspiration combine from very disparate sources? Specifically to give you extremely horrible backstories for a character?

Because I’ve been walking the dog the last while, and I’ve been noticing a lot of the wall plants. You know, the bits of plants, pennywort and red robin and the like, that grow in the cracks in the walls? Between the stones, in the gaps in the plaster. They’re really pretty, and I just love the stubbornness of them, to wind their way into wherever they can anchor and just bloom there.

I’ve written some things before on urban druids in D&D, and I was thinking idly about making a character in that context. The plants that grow in the cracks in the walls. And, because this is D&D and tragic backstories are, like, the thing, I was considering …

Beyond just general urban misery, where would you be where the sight of a stubborn little weed growing in the crack in a wall might be the one beautiful thing you can see and a seed that becomes a focus for your whole being?

Prison is an obvious answer. A cell, looking up at the bit of green growing near a high window. But the idea merged with a crime documentary I watched on youtube, which I cannot find again, about (warning for child death) a Victorian/Early 20th century murder of a child. A society woman who’d had a child out of wedlock as a teenager collected her young daughter from the woman who’d been caring for her, brought her to the cellar of her new husband’s house, and murdered her, without realising that one of the maids witnessed the deed. Which, yes, extraordinarily dark. But.

A child in the cellar. An illegitimate child, hidden away. A bit of green in a high window.

For some reason, my first thought was half elf, because D&D has some options for visibly illegitimate children. But then I remembered we can go one further for social ramifications. We could have a tiefling. A tiefling druid, who spent her first years in the care of a nurse, until she was old enough that they knew she would survive, and then was violently taken away and hidden. Because she is living proof of a … of an indiscretion. A sin.

There’s a bit of me that wants to go with the Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide tiefling variants as well, here. Because, while we’re on this very bleak trip into victorianesque worries about the physical markers of illegitimacy and immorality, there’s the alternate appearance descriptions for variant tieflings: “Your tiefling might not look like other tieflings. Rather than having the physical characteristics described in the Player's Handbook, choose 1d4+1 of the following features: small horns; fangs or sharp teeth; a forked tongue; catlike eyes; six fingers on each hand; goatlike legs; cloven hoofs; a forked tail; leathery or scaly skin; red or dark blue skin; cast no shadow or reflection; exude a smell of brimstone.”

… Tieflings really are playing on a lot of … of very old fears and prejudices. So yeah. But if we’re consciously playing with that, here. It does work.

And this is the sort of house that has a cellar. That has maids. That has nurses. This is urban nobility. But this kid has no memory of wealth, comfort. She just remembers a prison. A cold room with a high window onto street level. And the bit of green, the delicate bloom, the one pretty thing she can remember, shining in the dusty light of that window.

I also, I’ve been handwashing a lot of clothes lately, and I was thinking about the red hands you get from hand laundry. Caught red-handed. And, urban nobility like that, they’d have laundry. Maybe even laundry in the cellar. And I was thinking about the maid in that documentary. And I was thinking … someone freed them. Someone heard the creature in the walls of that house, and the hints upstairs of what it might be, and someone found the compassion in their hearts to do something. Some tiny thing. Even if it was just ‘accidentally’ leaving a door open. And all this kid remembers of how she got out of that prison is … red hands. The raw, boiled red hands of a laundry woman, as she darted past them into the light, in search of their tiny sprout of green.

So she escaped. She lived as a street urchin for a while, a good few years. And she never lost … She looks for the plants. The weeds. The tiny scraps of green the city over. The flowers blooming in the cracks in the walls. Because there’s … there’s an ethos there. A sympathy. A stubborn, determined thing. They grow where they’re not wanted, in the dirt and in the dark, and they bloom anyway. They survive, and they bloom, and they give hope to those around them. It’s a scrap of a thing, a fragile shred of green, but it grows. No matter how unwanted it is. And it gives hope when there’s nothing else.

At some point another druid stumbled across her. An apothecary, maybe, an urban herbalist, or just a vagabond with their own sympathy and appreciation for those shreds of green that all the artifice of urban living could not drive away. She found a teacher. She learned some things. And she gave back some things. Druids have goodberry. Healing word. Spells to help … those who survive in the city’s cracks and crevices. And she wants to. Because of the green, yes, for the hope in the darkness, and also for those boiled red hands. For the servant who helped her, for the faceless person in her memory, that pair of hands, that helped the monster in the walls when no one else would. She doesn’t know who she was. She don’t know what happened to her. The house she came from had a demonic child caged within it. Who knows what they’d do to a servant who interfered in the family business like that? Urban elite, nobility, tend to have … pragmatic solutions to things like that.

Though they hadn’t killed her. Why didn’t they just kill the monstrous child, the proof of their sins? Why hide her, instead of simply getting rid of her? So maybe … maybe there’s hope. Maybe that poor woman, whoever she was, didn’t die for her good deed. I think that is a hope she holds. That she wants to find out what happened to that woman, and maybe, if it’s possible, if it’s not so very much too much to hope, to meet her. Thank her. And … until then. To emulate her. To help. Before anything else, just to help.

I do know I want this druid to have the druidcraft cantrip. Because, yes, it might be largely useless, compared to the likes of prestidigitation and even thaumaturgy. And yes, druids only start with two cantrips, and she probably should take more useful ones. But there is one effect of druidcraft: “You instantly make a flower blossom, a seed pod open, or a leaf bud bloom.” And that’s …

I’m not sure if it’d be ruled that she could create flowers with that. Let small flowers bloom in the cracks with a whisper. But even if she’s only helping the ones already there to bloom, it’s still …

That was her hope. Her symbol of the outside world. The only beautiful thing in her world for years. And she wants to be able to spread that. That was the first magic she learned. The first warmth and hope she ever held in her hands. The ability to make flowers bloom. Even here. Even in the dirt and the dust and the misery. A little tendril of green, stubbornly rooted into the stones of the world. Sometimes you don’t need to be able to fight. Sometimes you just need to be able to provide hope.

(If she could also get herself a Staff of Flowers along the way, she’d love that too)

Maybe a lot of the local urchins know to follow the flowers to find help. You know?

So yeah. Yeah. A tiefling urchin urban druid. A child of sin, with the cherished power to coax hope to bloom, and the stubborn determination to grow no matter what. And to … to repay the small and infinitely precious kindnesses they have received.

[wellthebardsdead]

*some emerald grove devil au with a spicy mama??*

———

Falûne: *gliding along just above the group, lazily doing loops and twirling in the updraft beside the risen road* Those gnolls must’ve been the ones that attacked the Tieflings the day they came to the grove, they tore right through those people- hm? *looks ahead seeing blood and charred earth leading towards the river*

Gale: At least we found Lihalas lute. I’m sure Alfira will be happy to see it safe, at least she can hold the memory of her teacher within the music she plays.

Astarion: that or remind her of her gruesome slaughter- where’d our friend go?

Wyll: *looks up to see Falûne’s tail disappear over the trees* … *runs off after him and freezes in shock seeing him approaching Karlach* LÛ GET BACK!

Falûne: *looks back at him* She’s hurt! *steps forward* hey it’s alright, I’m a friend, are you okay? *backs up as the tiefling stands tall and flames billow off of her*

Karlach: Me? *grins* never better! *eyes up his wings and devil like characteristics* A shame for you then devil! *readies her axe*

Wyll: DONT YOU DARE LAY A HAND ON HIM FIEND!! *grabs Falûne and yanks him back to safety*

Karlach: well I’ll be damned, the blade of frontiers cavorting with devils.

Wyll: He’s a devil only by blood, but his heart is pure. Unlike you. *draws his blade* Your end is- ARGHHH!

Karlach: *recoils as her tadpole connects to his and Lûnes, her eyes seeing through the blue devils and finding only kindness and love, nature all around him and the blessing of a unicorn* wh-what was that?!

Falûne: *seeing the hells up close for the first time through her eyes. The horror, the suffering, the bloodshed and the roaring heat of hellfire… and feeling an odd sense of comfort from all of it* I- *focuses harder and sees a faceless figure, then karlach herself being dragged through to the hell’s themselves, sold into eternal servitude against her will* it was, the tadpole- you… You’re not a devil… you’re a tiefling! You were sold to Zariel!

Karlach: Well fuck me, you, you’re really a kind devil then… there’s a first for everything it seems.

Wyll: No! You can’t believe a word she says she’s lying to you!

Falûne: I know a lie when I hear it, Wyll… you should know how hard it is to lie to a devil… she’s telling the truth.

Wyll: No! She served Zariel! She-

Falûne: Against her will, *walks in between them and gently places his hand on his blade, lowering it* listen to reason now… please…

Wyll: Shit… Shit!! *sighs* you’re right… I’ve been mislead then… you really are no devil.

Karlach: whew… thank the gods, I was worried I’d have to take your head off.

Wyll: hm, you would have died in the attempt.

Falûne: someone set you on Karlachs tail, and I’d like to know who.

Karlach: aye, me as well, go on then wyll. You’re among friends.

Wyll: in a few days time you’ll find out, and no doubt I will pay my penance then.

Falûne: penance?… should I be worried?

Wyll: you’re not in any danger. From what I’ve witnessed, you’re a far more powerful devil than her anyway.

Karlach: another devil? How many have you been dealing with??

Falûne: well there’s me, my uncle and now this mysterious third but- *recoils a little as the flames suddenly grow hotter and Karlach grones holding her chest* Sh-shit you’re still hurt! Let me-

Karlach: no no, that’s all healed- ughhh my engines what’s aching.

Falûne: engine?…

Karlach: my engine. *smacks her chest* zariel stole my heart and replaced it with this contraption… now she’s sent her yappy little attack dogs after me to get it back it seems. So called paladins of tyr, they cornered me outside the tollhouse.

Falûne: hm, let’s send them back to her with a warning then.

Karlach: Fuck yes!

*30 minutes later*

Falûne: *holding Anders by his throat* please work- Karlach, come here.

Karlach: *engine boiling over with rage as she stalks closer, axe ready to kill* Tell Zariel I said h- *blinks as Falûne’s hand reaches into her chest, his skin feeling cool like ice, claws gently smoothing over the blistering infernal metal as he grasps hold of it* huh?? What are you?

Falûne: Sending the warning. *lets go of Anders throat and plunges his other fist into his rib cage, grabbing hold of his heart and with a small spark of fiendish magic, switching it with the engine* EVERYONE BACK UP! *grabs karlach and pushes her back as Anders suddenly begins to blister and boil from the inside out, clawing at his skin and screaming in agony as the engine cooks him alive before exploding all across the room in a smouldering pile of entrails*

Karlach: *staring at it in shock, the engine nestled amongst it* you- *gasps as the engine and pile of flesh crumbles into ash, no doubt respawning in hell back at zariels feet where the deal was made* you just?… *feels her chest, a heartbeat soft and gentle thrumming away* I have, a heart again?…

Falûne: you do… h-heh I can’t believe I actually did it! I-

Karlach: *pulls him into a hug and holds him tight* th-thank you. Thank you so much I- *sniffles as she starts to cry* I’m going to live!

Falûne: yeah… *smiles and hugs her back* …You really need a bath you stink of hellfire.

*that evening*

Mizora: Karlach meets the criteria by having no heart.

Falûne: Karlach has a heart though, look.

Mizora: what no she- *shuts up seeing no vents left on her skin, no flaming glow, no flames, nothing* what?…

“Which means your contract with Wyll is now Null and Void and my contract will now take its place.”

Mizora: *face dropping in a moment of panic as she spins around to see Raphael sauntering over* A-Ah, l-lord Raphael, I had no clue you were involved with my little pet, surely we can resolve this amicably.

Raphael: we might, if my nephew wishes so. *looks over at lûne*

Falûne: *shakes his head*

Raphael: *nods and snaps his fingers suddenly binding Mizora in infernal chains* Karlach, you may have the honours.

Karlach: *grabs her axe* Fuck yes!! *runs at Mizora*

Raphael: *summons wylls new contract* just sign and you’ll have everything you need from me.

Wyll: the only requirement is keeping lûne safe?

Raphael: believe it or not I do actually care about my nephews wellbeing. The contract is just a security to be certain he’s in safe hands.

Wyll: huh, what happens if I fail?

Raphael: do you want to find out?

Wyll: nope. *signs it quickly and jumps as a rapier of infernal metal appears in his belt*

Raphael: wonderful. Now then- *suddenly plucks out wylls eye and seemingly crushes it in his palm before reshaping it with runes to communicate with him directly* I’ll be keeping an eye on things through you now. Do not disappoint me Mr Ravenguard. *tosses it at his face making it land perfectly back in his eye socket*

Wyll: ah-

[ghostwise]

in the gardens of Thay 3.2k words, Astarion/Durge cw: blood drinking, non-consensual illithid powers, bhaalspawn, bard durge In exchange for a taste of her blood, Astarion finds himself unexpectedly recruited for a part in Aya's charade.

Shadowheart pressed her hands over Aya’s head, smoothing down her dark curls with a rush of blue healing magic. For a moment the glow of the spell held fast—then it dissipated quickly, like rainwater on parched earth.

“It would be easier,” she said ruefully, “if we knew what happened to you.”

“It’s no great mystery, Shadowheart,” the bard murmured, her sulphur-yellow eyes closing. “You don’t cheat death and come away without some wounds to show for it.”

“But your wounds from the crash are healed.” There was a tinge of frustration to the cleric’s voice as she regarded the stubbornly broken head of her companion. “Your amnesia should be resolving by now. Unless it wasn’t caused by your wounds to begin with.”

A shadow fell across camp suddenly, as clouds drifted in front of the sun. Astarion blinked and waited for the warmth to return, and it did, moments later. He was still wholly unused to it.

“I’m open to any theories,” Aya said, a small smile curling her lips.

Shadowheart sighed and ran her hands through Aya’s brown locks of hair.

The Sharran was getting rather familiar, Astarion noted. Ironic, considering the cold image she tried so hard to project, but anyone could see that their resident amnesiac had become Shadowheart’s favorite project. One she doted on quite attentively, at that.

“There’s all sorts of magic that could cause it,” Shadowheart mused. “I think if the root were physical, it would already be resolved. And the druids know about physical ailments better than most, yet they too have been unable to help…”

“That doesn’t necessarily point to a magical cause. I could simply be mad.”

“You’re too lucid,” Shadowheart said, not even entertaining the notion.

Astarion bit back a laugh.

He could not truly tell if Aya was being manipulative, but he had to commend her either way. Shadowheart was a powerful ally to have.

Come to think of it, that was exactly what he needed: allies. More than these tenuous traveling bonds, he needed someone on his side. Especially if he planned on sticking around, which he very much did.

Mad or sane, Aya said nothing.

She only turned her yellow gaze towards him, inscrutable as ever.

.

Shadowheart did not understand madness. But Astarion fancied he did.

Madness was terrible and transient. You could be mad and make a life for yourself all the same, and blend in with the muck of the day to day, with some effort. He’d felt a little mad himself when he’d first awoken after the crash. He’d felt it when he was starving and when he was alone, too.

He was quite himself now, and for that he was grateful.

But it was enough to know that those things lurked within him still, cohabiting with that wretched tadpole and liable to exert their influence over him with the right trigger: hunger, pain, fear, grief. Such things were not uncommon these days. Tragedy could befall anyone, at any time, in an instant. The little tiefling bard was a stark reminder of this.

But if only he’d managed to lap up some of her blood before it’d congealed in the mud…!

Meanwhile Aya did not yet remember anything with the exception of her songs, and perhaps this too was a type of madness. She remembered more songs every day, and had lately spent hours plucking away at her lute, singing in her gravelly voice.

“I courted a lass in the gardens of Thay,

Her voice was honey sweet

And we hand in hand spent many a day

In happiness’ blinding reach.”

Her voice crooned softly in the night. Astarion heard it from his bedroll where he lay, awake and uncomfortable, trying to ignore the ache of hunger in his limbs.

He longed to hunt. But it was nearing midnight, and when she started like this she could go on for hours.

“I slaughtered my love in the gardens of Thay,

Her blood was a symphony

And her soft hands could not allay

All of my fury and grief.”

He weighed his options. Once they set off for the goblin camp, there was no telling when or how he would feed. Could he steal a few sips of goblin blood without anyone noticing? Unlikely, as everyone would be on high alert. This could be his last chance.

Outside his tent, Aya’s voice dipped softly, swooning through the night.

“An unsent letter in the gardens of Thay

The delicate writing reads:

‘My beloved I’ll never betray.

Your wicked bribes you may keep.’”

“Ooh, a drama,” he muttered under his breath. For a moment he nearly hoped she was done but the playing and singing resumed in yet another encore. He stifled a groan.

The songs were largely about people encountering the unexpected. Betrayed lovers, gold that vanished as quickly as it was acquired, curses and prophecies going awry. Many of the songs had a morbid slant to the verse. He did not recognize any of them.

He willed her to go to sleep, but of course, she did not. By the time everyone else was awake, Aya had not slept a wink. Nor, for that matter, had he.

And he was still hungry.

A vampire’s hunger was a terrible thing. It sat not in the belly, but in the heart, and it bled over every single part of him.

“Sleep well last night?” he asked Aya that morning, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Like a dove,” she hummed.

A liar, too. What in the Nine Hells did that even mean?

Astarion frowned. He’d have to deal with this sooner rather than later.

.

It wound up being sooner.

The goblin camp was a veritable assault on all his senses: noise and grime and screams. The scent of smoke and blood pervaded the ransacked temple, and he hadn’t eaten in days. Aya had been up every single night, singing with her lute, leaving him no chance to steal away. Nonetheless, she exhibited none of the fatigue she should; instead, she’d carved a path through the cultists like they were butter and she a hot blade.

There was something more to the amnesiac bard, that was certain. This was not the first time she’d killed. The sight of her reveling in their enemies’ deaths was enough to make him very thankful they were on the same side.

That night, when it was finally safe to make camp, and when everyone had fallen into a heavy slumber, he crept towards her bedroll.

His hunger made it hard to think. He’d hoped not to feed on an ally, but he knew what happened when he was deprived of a meal too long.

Surely she was as exhausted as he, if not more, after her little rampage. She wouldn’t stir, if he was careful. If he only took a mouthful… he could make a small cut with his blade, to disguise the bite.

Too hungry to quell his instincts, he leaned in.

Then a calloused hand was at his chest, pinching the fabric in a vice-grip.

It startled him. He jolted away, but couldn’t move; he was stuck. Caught.

“Shit,” he uttered.

Aya was looking up at him, breathing fast, and something in her gaze made him wonder if she was awake at all.

“No- no, it’s not what it looks like,” he said, anxious as her grip tightened. She’d clutched a handful of his shirt and twisted it in her hand with shocking ease, holding him still and off-balance.

“I swear! I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just- needed-” The word tumbled out, surprising and honest. “Blood.”

Aya blinked slowly. Still keeping a firm grip on him, she scooted over on her bedroll and sat up.

“Of course,” she said slowly, her voice thick with slumber. “I’m beginning to understand now. How long since you killed someone in cold blood?” Her lips stretched back, forming a half-smile. “Since Alfira?”

“What?” Astarion yanked himself loose at last—or she released him—and he fell backwards. “No! I’ve never killed anyone. Well. Not for food.”

He looked at her, suspicion flooding his mind along with the deep-seated instinct to appease her. Why bring up Alfira now? He’d never gotten the impression that he was a suspect. He chose his words carefully.

“I feed on animals. Boars, deer, kobolds—whatever I can get. Alfira’s murder was senseless, without rhyme or reason… as you, no doubt, recall.”

There was just a hint of a challenge in his words, and he held onto this challenge resolutely, meeting Aya’s steady gaze with his own.

It was a mistake. He felt something at the edge of his mind—then in the very midst of him. He sucked in a gasp of air as Aya delved further.

“What’s this-?” He looked away as if by doing so he could flee from it. “What’s happening?”

He was being mined for truth.

He’d seen her do this before, without a single care. Seen her bend others to her whims without mercy. He felt a jolt of fear at the idea that he might suffer a similar fate.

His memories were shuffled through like one would flip through the pages of a dull book. Then it was over as quickly as it began.

“You’re being truthful,” Aya muttered. “But don’t act so virtuous. You feed on vermin because you have been forced to. Not out of some noble attempt at morality.”

“I…”

The weight of what had just transpired settled on him, and he realized what she must’ve seen, what she now knew. When he looked at her again he found her alert, inquisitive, albeit tired, with a deep-seated darkness around her eyes.

And there was pity in those eyes. Vile and unwelcome, yet, malleable.

“Yes,” he admitted, gritting his teeth and ignoring the frantic spasms of his starving heart. “Yes, I ate whatever disgusting vermin my master picked. So… you can see why I’m slow to trust you.”

He paused, and thought of the fresh link Aya had just forged between their minds. It was a two-way street, if that was how she wanted to play it. So, somewhat desperate, he gave a push back along the same bridge.

“But I do trust you,” he continued firmly. “And you can trust me.”

“Uh-uh,” Aya said, tapping at her head. “Out.”

“Oh, you started it!”

“No, you started it,” she snapped. “When you tried to feed on me in my sleep.”

The tug of war between their thoughts left him nauseous. “Fine!” Astarion wrinkled his nose and aimed a short-lived glare at her. “I propose a deal, then: No more tadpole powers from you, and no more attempts from me to feed on you. Cross my heart, hope to die, pinky promise and so on-”

“Deal,” Aya said evenly, and with the cadence of someone who surely was crossing her fingers behind her back.

But for now it would do. The uninvited link vanished.

She reclined on her bedroll, and Astarion nearly sighed in relief.

“I’m so glad,” he said, attempting to recapture some of his composure. He should have tried to make a meal of Wyll instead… but it was too late now. He aimed an amicable smile at her. “I trust this can remain, er, our little secret?”

Aya gave a steely nod.

“Thank you,” Astarion sighed. “Thank you ever so much. Well! That being settled, I suppose I should go find a rat to gnaw on or something…”

“Oh, please,” Aya scoffed. “There’s hardly any need for that. I’m right here.”

Astarion frowned. He watched her for a moment, but her meaning became no clearer for it.

“Come again?”

“You’re not well, Astarion,” Aya said quietly. “I could sense it, even before I touched your thoughts. If you can’t fight you’ll just drag us down. So… have your damn meal.”

“You’re… offering?”

“I’m offering.” Aya raised a brow. “Do try to contain your excitement. And take only what you need—not a drop more.”

“Of course,” Astarion said, still in disbelief. “I shall be gentle as a babe.”

He perched himself carefully beside her and felt along her neck. Anatomy varied from person to person; he needed to bite just the right spot, or he’d risk her bleeding out. Aya regarded these preparations with an air of amusement.

When he was ready, he pierced her sweat-tinged skin with his fangs. He was met with a bloom of salt, copper, and beneath that, something he couldn’t name.

Now came the graceless part. Not wanting to waste a drop, he angled his head and clamped around the wound, and drank slowly, but deeply. As the blood settled within him it ushered away his pain, filled him with strength… it made him realize he’d been hungry for months, years, decades.

He was already sated, but the sudden high made it hard to even consider depriving himself of a few more mouthfuls of her blood.

It was like being submerged in a hot bath. It was like a chorus compared to a single voice. There was a presence in it, an awe-inspiring shiver, almost reverent, as if it were not just he and Aya in the tent.

But who else was there, in Aya’s blood?

And should it be such a surprise how different it was from that of the animals he’d subsisted on all his undeath? Not that he had any real point of reference. As he searched the sensation, he felt that there was a message in the red. A message for him, he realized in shock, twitching a little and feeling a thick droplet slide out of his mouth. Aya’s distant voice singing a wordless dirge, and a deeper voice singing with her.

Oh, if he had just a little more, he could understand…

Aya pried him off like a tick, her hand clamped around his gullet.

“Greedy,” she slurred.

He snapped back to lucidity with embarrassing quickness. “Ah,” he said, a stupid syllable mouthed around the last drops of blood he’d taken. He tried to coax his mind back from incoherence, refocusing on her with ease. “Of course. I was just- swept up in the moment.”

He glowed. How wonderful. Was this what Cazador had deprived him of all those centuries? The other spawn would surely simmer with envy and hate if they knew how good blood could taste, how beautiful an afterlife could be; powerful, uninhibited and unstarved. He grinned, flexing his fingers. He felt awareness and keen insight from the very top of his white curls to the very earth below.

Aya, blessed blood, let out a giggle.

“Oooh,” she intoned. “Bit stronger than what you’re used to, huh?”

“Just a bit,” he admitted. “But it worked! I feel good. Strong. Happy.”

She smiled, pressing a rag to the wound to stifle its bleeding. “How nice,” she said in perfect monotone. “Alright. Fuck off now, please and thanks. I must clean up and get back to my perverse dreams.”

Astarion nodded slowly. He’d already pushed his luck and succeeded; no need to push further. As he withdrew from her tent, he glanced over his shoulder, driven to seek some sort of sentimental closure, to counter her rather abrupt dismissal.

“This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

.

The next day, Aya was unsteady as a newborn fawn.

Thankfully the bulk of the fighting was behind them. As the others ventured forth to pick off the stragglers of the goblin horde, Shadowheart stayed behind to tend to her project.

Astarion pushed down an uneasy rush of feeling when their return from the field found Shadowheart and Aya waiting. There was no mistaking that look—the cleric glowered at him, and from behind her, Aya watched him silently.

“A vampire,” Shadowheart said.

Astarion pursed his lips and looked at Aya, who shrugged with a meager smile.

“That explains the pallor,” Shadowheart continued. “Though it doesn’t explain what you were thinking, feeding off the weakest in our number. Do you think I’m throwing healing magic at her for fun for you to be sapping her strength like this, night after night?”

“What-?” Astarion stammered, but he could recognize an ambush when he walked into one.

“A vampire among us?” Lae’zel asked.

“Aya has been hiding her wounds. She succeeded until this morning. Apparently she’d lost too much blood,” Shadowheart explained.

As if on cue, Aya tugged the collar of her shirt down. At the very least, Astarion could pride himself on doing a tidy job. Two symmetrical little bite wounds were visible on her neck, perfectly placed and not unseemly at all.

Lae’zel recoiled from the sight. “Tsk’va!”

“Hunting with vampires!” Wyll exclaimed. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Settle down, everyone, please,” Aya said.

Astarion waited, half-annoyed and half-curious. What was she playing at? Her lie hung tenuously in the air, recognized by no one but he and she. But she was a performer. So he let her perform.

“He trusted me with his secret, and perhaps we should have told everyone sooner, yes… but I saw no harm in letting him feed from me, just a little. Just until he was no longer starving.”

Appealing to their compassion, she turned with her hands outstretched and her eyes wide with feeling.

“He’s been dedicating himself to hunting animal blood as much as possible, to keep from hurting anyone. Should he suffer for what he is? I didn’t believe so. Hopefully neither do you. He fed on me at the grove, and again, the night Alfira…” Her words trailed off, pained.

“So it couldn’t have been him that killed her,” Wyll concluded, watching the display with interest.

The charade clicked in Astarion’s mind.

“Whatever the case, should I wake with so much as a drop of blood on my neck, I will end him,” Lae’zel said.

“Fair enough!” Aya quipped. Before Astarion knew it, she was at his side, one hand gracefully alighting on his shoulder. “You needn’t worry about that. Right, my friend?”

“Right.” Astarion looked at her. Her smile twitched slightly, coaxing him to continue. “And I am terribly sorry for all this?” he added, and Aya squeezed his shoulder gently.

That seemed to do the trick.

As the others walked away to process this new revelation, Astarion set a hand over Aya’s, keeping her close. In the vacuum of truth she had created, it was easy to walk her away from camp, just enough to have a private exchange.

He looked at her, noting the self-satisfied look in her eyes.

“So. That was fun. But tell me something: Why did you do it?” he asked. “Why did you kill Alfira?”

She let out a woozy chuckle. “Not sure. She annoyed me. I think that must be why.”

“I see.” Astarion mulled it over. “That does sound pretty reasonable, actually. But I can do my own lying, you know. You could have… clued me in a little?”

“And you would have played along?” Aya tilted her head, exposing, for a moment, the sinewed shape of neck. Her eyes shone with interest. “Full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Against his better judgment, he laughed.

“I could say much the same for you. Stick around and you’ll see just how surprising I can be.”

[justporo]

A Night of Song and Laughter (Part 4)

In which Tav and Astarion bicker a lot. It is their love language to piss each other off and then make up with kisses and sweet nothings - I'm convinced. It's all fun and games until someone ends up as a pile of ash, burned into the ground - am I right?

Thank you all so much for the love so far - I love seeing all the likes, reblogs and I eat up comments, thank you, sweethearts!

Song choice is "Kiss with a Fist" by Florence + The Machine for this one.

As always, you can also read this on AO3 - that and a few more parts already!

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You)

(Gif from here!)

Astarion set you down on the top step of the staircase, grabbed you by the hips and spun you around until you faced away from him and gave you a little pat on the butt: “Go on, you know the way, dearest.”

You took another step to give Astarion enough space to come up the rest of the stairs behind you. Then you stopped and took in the much smaller area of the gallery. At the back wall was a much smaller bar and the only place you could get halfway decent drinks. No beer though, since the big kegs were way too heavy to carry up here. At the wall above it hung different instruments – lutes, flutes, violins. The inside joke was that these where instruments from bards and bands that… didn’t quite make the cut. But that was kind of an urban legend. Almost all the tables were filled. There only remained a few smaller bar tables at the pillars that slightly divided the area. You motioned to Astarion to go over to one of the bar tables.

You were only just telling him the myth about the instruments hanging on the wall which he listened to with an affectionate smile and one or two snide remarks about the cultural state of society, when you got jumped from behind.

Taken by surprise your survival instincts immediately kicked in, your hands immediately went to where your dagger would have been, had you brought it. You also felt Astarion tense next to you immediately getting into fighting stance. But you recognized the cackling giggle next to your pointy ear and as you turned your head slightly, you saw the face of a half-elf woman. “Lira, get off me, I’m not a monkey bar”, you said and tried to shake off the petite woman that clung to your back like a squirrel. “No, if I let go, I fear you might just disappear into thin air again”, she pouted and shook her head so her braid of thick black hair swung animatedly. You sighed desperately and tried twisting and turning to get her off your back. You heard Astarion quietly chuckle but saying nothing.

As you turned you also saw two different people standing behind you. A tall tiefling woman with dark red skin and even darker facial expression and a pretty young dwarf, at least judging by his rather short beard. “Oh hi, Miyena, Daegin”, you said while still trying to get the half-elf off your back. “Care to give me a hand?”, you asked them with an embarrassed half-smile. But the tiefling woman only raised an eyebrow at you, drew her long sleek ponytail of midnight blue hair over one shoulder and then crossed her slender arms over her chest; and the dwarf just shrugged.

“Alright, some friends you are”, you said and turned around to Astarion. But he just gave you an even more sassy impersonation of the reaction your tiefling friend had given you - dickhead.

“Ugh”, you made in desperation. Then you sighed: “Alright, I get it, I owe you some serious explanation, but how about we do that like civilized people: with everyone on the ground and a round of drinks. First round’s mine of course.” Everyone stared at you for a moment longer then the tiefling named Miyena spoke with a deep voice: “You’ll pay the whole evening and that’s not guaranteeing we’ll accept your explanation or a much needed apology.” At her words the half-elf started to climb of your back, went around you and hugged you deeply.

“Wheredidyougoweweresoworriedaboutyou”, she mumbled into your shoulder. You hugged her back and felt your body relax. They were right, you really did owe them an explanation – at least some of it – and an apology. Miyena and Daegin made to walk over to you and stand around the table. The tiefling still had her arms crossed and looked disapprovingly at Astarion: “Also, who in the Nine Hells is this? But uh” – she made and raised a single hand to silence you, when you were starting to talk – “firstly, you’ll get us some drinks. I’ll take something strong, you know what I like.” “Cherrywine”, Lira mumbled into your shoulder before finally letting go of you. “Ugh, Imma get myself a beer downstairs, you can pay me back later”, Daegin said and went off to head downstairs.

You looked at Astarion defeatedly waiting for his desired drink request but he was quick to put his hand on the small of your back and push you towards the bar: “I’ll help you, my dear, excuse us for a moment.” That earned him another disapproving onceover from Miyena while Lira just giggled and grinned at you knowingly.

Once you were out of earshot of the two, Astarion leaned over to say into your ear: “These are your friends? A chipmunk disguised as an half-elf, a dwarf barely old enough to buy a beer and a tiefling that I think would have smited right on the spot with her disapproving looks had she not been in public?” You heard the smile in his voice but you still felt insulted on their behalf. You slapped his shoulder: “You’re a twat sometimes, you know that?” He shrugged: “You knew I was bloody bastard from the very start, my love, so no news on that front.” You rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue at him before you said: “I guess you’re not completely wrong, this group is almost as dysfunctional as our little adventure troupe was. But that’s not even Miyena’s most disapproving reaction – for her that’s basically giving you a hug and offering you cookies and a hot milk. I’m pretty surprised.” At that the elf looked quite pleased, as he so easily was with flattery. “Well, I guess who could resist this magnificent face, am I right? Good to know I still got it in me after all”, he purred and fixed his white curls with one hand despite them not needing any fixing at all. “Am I joke to you?”, you said flabbergasted “Does my attraction to you not count, or…” “Of course, my love, but I’ve had you wrapped around my finger for so long now, I bet the sun could burn me to a pile of ash right this moment and you’d still sigh in admiration at me.” He chuckled, full of self-confidence – and also full of himself of course.

This arrogant ass. Did you think of him as your soulmate? You thought you’d might have to give that decision another consideration. In a split second decision you put the heel of your foot down in front of his feet and flipped the tip of your boot, so he tripped over it. He had his wicked roguish senses but you were a ranger and a former thief – so he fell. Right into the half-orc in front of him which caused a huge spillage of red wine. The massive creature turned around with a nasty growled and leveled a stare at the vampire who had only just caught his balance again. The half-orcs linen tunic was completely drenched in red liquid now. He glared at Astarion, very angrily. “Huh”, Astarion made in high-pitched voice “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, must have tripped over a crack” – he snarled the word, you snickered – “in the floorboard. I’m really terribly sorry, but really red is your colour, good sir, I hear the ladies are really into it this season.” The half-orc growled wordlessly again but seemed soothed and turned around again. How the hell had that worked? His silver tongue really worked wonders; also could raise hell as he had just experienced.

Astarion turned to you with a grimace with his fangs showing and hissed at you in a low voice: “Dick!” “Ass!”, you hissed back and stuck your tongue out at him again. “Maybe the next time you think before you make me jealous and take my love for granted”, you pouted. Astarion gave you sad puppy eyes: “How am I to blame when you just tell me that I have an endearing effect on the people around me, you know, I do love the attention. Can you possibly hold it against me?” Then he lifted one of his hands to your face and softly moved a strand of your reddish-brown hair behind your pointy ear: “And you know, I would never take a single thing about you for granted, my love, never.” You were immediately charmed by his genuine tone and soft look in his ruby eyes. You smiled and…

“By the gods, passing through!”, a man pushed through the two of you and the affectionate scene, quite obviously annoyed by the two of you blocking the way to the bar for so long. “For all our sakes, get a room and make some goddamn space for the rest of us”, he grumbled while he stomped past you and Astarion.

„So rude“, you mouthed to Astarion. “Totally”, he mouthed back and dramatically rolled his eyes and then smirked before motioning for you to keep walking.

“Still”, you said and pointed a finger at the elf’s face as you were waiting at the bar to order “if you try and chat up and flirt with my friends while I’m right there, you’ll wish the sun had burned you into the ground long ago, Astarion.” You glare at him, half teasingly, half in earnest. He raised his hands in mock surrender: “I will try and be as monogamous as I can be, my sweet darling, but flirting is like breathing to me.” You pouted at his mocking until he sighed: “I was just joking, love, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” “Apology accepted”, you answered immediately and gave him a peck on the nose before you turned to order.

With two cherry wines for Lira and yourself, a dark, dry red wine for Astarion and a strong herbal spirit for Miyena, the two of you return to the table. Daegin was already sipping from a giant mug of dark beer. You threw him a gold coin for his drink, then handed out the drinks around the table. The other three had already taken up the conversation without you and Astarion and for a few minutes both of you just sipped on your drinks and listened contentedly. The tiefling kept looking at Astarion openly, not even trying to hide her curiosity. Then topics shifted to you, your dis- and reappearance and your mysterious new acquaintance again.

“I guess, it’s time you introduce us to your mysterious beau here, Tav”, Miyena said with her dark voice and eyed your companion again. Now, you almost thought there was something hungry in her stare. You saw Astarion smirk at your friend’s display of interest, but you could tell he was starting to feel uneasy by her attention when he tensed next to you and threw you a short look.  He cleared his throat – a clear sign of his nervousness as you’d come to know – and spoke before you could beat him to it: “Well, my name is Astarion and I met your wonderful friend, Tav, when I was adventuring out in the countryside. She saved me, more than once, and well, first we became travel companions and then… so much more. And well now, we are both happy to be back in our hometown, aren’t we, darling?” You took his other hand that was not currently holding a glass of wine and squeezed it gently in reassurance. The intonation on the words “she saved me” hadn’t been lost on you. He squeezed your hand back, while you took up his story. Over the table Miyena slightly narrowed her eyes at the two of you, she obviously suspected you weren’t telling the whole story. But she said nothing for the time being and let the conversation go on.

The two of you told them of select parts of your adventure, agreeing on parts to be left out without needing to speak about it. Astarion relaxed and started enjoying himself telling stories and making quips about you and your adventures together. You told them about the ogre and the bugbear you happened upon, about vicious gnolls and an exhausting hike trough the mountain pass. You felt your heart fill with warmth at being with your friends again and them enjoying your and Astarion’s company. And your heart filled with even more love seeing Astarion being so open and relaxed, just being himself, making Daegin laugh at his jokes and Lira gasp at his overly dramatic retellings. Only Miyena had become awfully silent, her frown growing with every touch, look and smile you and Astarion exchanged. But you didn’t mind, tonight you wouldn’t let your night be ruined by her grumpy act.

All of you were well into your third round of drinks, when Daegin suddenly stopped, threw up his beer mug and screamed. He was already pretty drunk so his drink sloshed everywhere, a big gulp only missing you because you still had the wits about you to dodge in time. The dwarf waved enthusiastically at someone behind you, he almost fell off the stool he’d organised for himself.

“Eodin, Eodin! Come here, you wouldn’t believe what the cat dragged in”, Daegin yelled. You turned and sure as the sun would rise tomorrow morning, there he was at the top of the stairs: Eodin. You quickly turned back around pretending you hadn’t seen him. You lifted your hand to the side of your face to keep him out of your field of view for as long as possible. Panic filled your eyes as you looked at Astarion, who grinned at you sneeringly, placed his elbow on the table and then his chin on his hand: “Where’s the sun to burn you into the ground if you need it, darling, am I right?”

[unreadpoppy]

workshop

Dad!Phael x Gwen (although she only appears in the end)

can be read on it's own and as a continuation of An heir is born

A/n: This is just a small something of Raphael being a dad. Guess also counts as soft!Raphael as well. Also, the parts in italics are parts where he is reading something.

Tags: @lemonandhoneytea @bg3fan @mjuuuk (cause you guys left comments when i first mentioned writing something about dad!phael, it feels only fair tagging you)

Natahlia had recently celebrated her third birthday, and everyday, she looked more and more like her father. She had red skin, only  a few shades lighter than Raphael’s, his nose, and he recently noticed how there were another pair of horns starting to grow on her head. 

Personality wise, Natahlia had taken after her mother. She was a very vocal and active young girl, playing around with Scratch and making the nannies (who, more often than not, were some lost soul that was in Raphael’s debt) lose their minds, since they could barely catch a break. 

But most important was that Natahlia was Raphael’s shadow. 

Whenever he was at home, she would immediately run to him and follow him around. In fact, the times when she was around him were the only times she’d calm down. Raphael could talk for hours and hours, going over the most tedious subjects, and she’d listen. He doubted he understood half of the things he said, but that did not matter. 

Raphael had someone who gave her undivided attention and he loved it. And he was using his little listener to put back practice into an old hobby of his: writing. 

In truth, after conquering the Hells, Raphael hadn’t had all the time in the world to write his plays, songs and books as he used to have. But now, most of the dust had settled, Raphael could finally finish his more artistic work, and who better for him to show and workshop his material than his own daughter? 

“We now enter act three.” He began reading out loud, while Natahlia was sitting on a chair far too big for her, hugging a stuffed animal Gwendolyn had given her. 

“Our hero, the charming Raphael, is looking up at his devilish father, the Archdevil Mephistopheles. Just another step in the path towards greatness.” As he spoke, Raphael started doing small gestures, as if he was acting out the scenes himself. “‘Your time has come to an end, dear father’ Raphael snickers. ‘I have the crown now. The son you have longed ignored is now going to be your demise!’”

Raphael stopped for a moment and looked at her. Her big blue eyes stared at him, her mouth slightly opened. “What do you think?” 

At the question, Natahlia smiled at him. “I like it! More!” 

He chuckled at her reaction and continued his dramatic reading. “The Cold Lord said nothing, looking at his son with disdain. He stands up from his seat and walks towards the cambion, smirking. ‘If you think you have a chance against me, boy, I’d like to see you try.’ As he finishes talking, the two enter a bloody fight.” 

Raphael then went into the explicit detail that he had written about this battle with his father. The play he had written was a recount of how he had fought each archdevil and gotten the title of Lord of the Nine Hells. It was supposed to be a continuation of a previous one that had already been performed long ago. 

Raphael tried to keep most of the story true to what had transpired, however, he gave himself artistic freedom to change whatever he saw fit. Afterall, it wasn’t as if  Zariel, Mephisto or Asmodeus were alive to contest his version. 

As he read the fight out loud, Natahlia laughed, especially when he talked about the more gory portions. He couldn’t help but be proud. She may be a tiefling and only three, but the girl already showed a strong spirit and a lack of fear. She’d need that if she was to carry on his legacy. 

Raphael had been so entertained by this reading that he failed to notice his wife, Gwendolyn, appearing on the door, until she said. “I don’t think you should be saying those things to a child.” The tiefling woman crossed her arms over her belly - she was halfway through her second pregnancy. 

Raphael looked back at her. “My dear, she’s enjoying it. Look!” He pointed towards their daughter, who was smiling brightly. “Besides, she is my daughter. She needs to know the story behind her father’s greatness.” 

The little girl cheered as Gwen shot him an unamused look. “And I know very well how true to reality these recounts of yours are.” She sighed. “Just…try not to focus too much on the violent part, please.” She put a hand on her stomach. 

Raphael walked towards her, covering her hand with his. “For you, I’ll try.” He leaned forwards and kissed her forehead. 

She smiled at him and then looked at Natahlia.“Good. Now, Natahlia, come, it’s time for your bath.” 

The girl shook her head. “Want to hear daddy’s story.” 

“You hear the rest once you’re done.” Gwen extended a hand towards her. “Let’s go.”  The girl huffed but obeyed. Raphael rushed to her and helped her down the chair. 

She hugged his leg. “Thank you, daddy!” And ran towards Gwen, holding her mother’s hand. As they left, Raphael could hear the girl already talking about every new thing she had learned. He let out a small chuckle and shook his head, sitting on the chair and getting back to working on the play. Once she was back, he’d have new material to show her. 

[littlesiren79]

*SWINGS IN THROUGH THE WINDOW* hello my little lovelies and today I'm gonna be asking the bug army few questions

1. (Original AU:Soaking wet)

Your bug was helping with making Gumbo with the Boys and then you heard the front door get slammed opened by a Soaking wet Vincent,Victor and Timmy and then you saw Vincent holding a Soaking wet Baby Via who's shivering from being cold

Your bug: "What happened and why are there of you all soaking wet!?

Victor: "Timmy tipped the boat from the fucking fact that he caught a fish that was moving pretty fast which lead to him tipping the boat when he about the fall and unfortunately we had Via with us since everyone else was busy so we had to take her with us and unfortunately the boat flipped upside down when it got tipped and we all got wet especially Via because damn that water was fucking cold as hell

Vincent: "can Somebody get something to dry Via before she catches a cold from being this cold!"

2.does your bug prefer the fall or winter?

3.if your bug had to babysit baby Via for the twins,how would that go

4.so this is for the Bug mansion so what does your bugs room look like and here's what the twin's room look like (the Green room is for Victor and the blue room is for Vincent)

@rozeliyawashereyall @willowve01 @asmrbrainrot @kaiamtt @iistxrmyskyii @insignificant-anarchy @stxph-artist @aspenm00n @keyaartz @fangsshadow @rustycopper4use @piffany666 @dreamyshape @idontevenknow7878 @lunaritychuwolf @castbracelet240 @strayharmony943 @proxdragon @tiefling-chaos @threeweekinsomnia @recated @wilderrorcard @diamondzoey @fennaboysenberry @lunnats @lightdragon789 @pinkcocopuff-aqualoid @itsargyle @not-5-rats @astralbulldragon13 @ccstiles @puffin-smoke @fruity0salad @takashishihoin @megapugman @reefhastoomanyaccs @kaydenskiwi @greaysharkboi @itzscribz @blingzyya @atonalasmr @headstrashdump @gatorboys22 @drowziestar @howdyimmaia

[dr-demi-bee]

Day 4-------------------Read on A03------------------------------

Pairing: Rujyr x Astarion Prompt: Gentle Act 3, fluff, Redeem!Durge, SFW

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you alright, darling?”

Rujyr turns to look over her shoulder as Astarion enters her dark tent. Those bright teal eyes peering out of the dark never fail to arrest him - startling in their brilliance - but the sight of her now causes his breath to catch. The slight tiefling is sitting on her bedroll with her knees to her chest, her tail coiled tightly around her. She sniffles noisily, her soft blue cheeks wet with tears.

“Oh, love.”

He’s quick to join her, sitting beside her and pulling her by the shoulders to lean into his embrace. He tucks his face against her hair, shushing her gently as she tucks her face against him. Even when she’s distraught, Rujyr is mindful of her horns - always careful in how she leans against him. How such a sweet, gentle creature could be a Bhaalspawn is hard to fathom. This peaceful little monk, so full of love and care...

Today they had finally encountered the infuriatingly disgusting Lord Gortash. The way he had glommed onto her hands in a greedy possessiveness, smiled at her as if greeting a spouse come home from war. Astarion’s lip curls with a disdainful sneer at the memory.

Astarion just holds her closely, stroking his hand softly up and down the expanse of her back, mentally counting the ridges along her spine as he gives her the space to sort out her feelings.

“What did he say to you, Ru?” He finally murmurs softly. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost when you came out of that room.”

Rujyr makes a soft sound, winding her arms around his torso.

“I hardly understood,” Rujyr answers. Her tail snakes it’s way around his leg, a desperate plea for contact. “No more comforting than anything we’ve found so far.”

Astarion huffs a soft, singular laugh. “How much worse could it possibly get?”

Even as he gests he curls his hand around around her back to hold her hip, snuggling her even closer against him. He braces himself for the worst - but how much worse could it be than her having a hand in this whole mess? Astarion raises his free hand to card through the silky strands of her midnight hair, loose for the evening.

“He claimed we were more than collaborators,” she finally manages. “That we were....partners. Lovers.”

Astarion stills for a moment, his hand still threaded through her hair. With a scoff, he mutters, "The gall of that bastard... You're no one's 'anything.' You never have been, and you never will be. To suggest such things... The audacity."

He scowls, his eyes narrowed in annoyance as he continues to hold her close. He’s never thought of himself as the jealous type. Never. But hearing this... It rubs him the wrong way, to think that someone might presume to lay claim on Rujyr. She is a free spirit...

"I want to dismiss it outright," she murmurs against his shoulder. Her hands clutch desperately to him, as if afraid he'll leave. Ru's voice is small, threaded with fear and hurt. "But in flashes of memory- it- what if it's true?"

Astarion can feel her grip on him, can hear the panic in her voice. The raw, aching vulnerability makes his heart clench. This isn't his Rujyr. His Rujyr is fearless, unflinching, and so very tough.

"It's not," he says firmly, his hand still running through her hair. "Even if it were, does it matter? It's not you if you don't remember. You're not responsible for what happened then."

She's quiet for a long moment, leaning heavily against him. The way the spade of her tail flicks against his leg, Astarion can tell she's thinking - probably much too hard and much too cruelly towards herself.

"You're not angry...?" Rujyr breathes when she finally breaks the silence.

He gives another scoff, shaking his head as if her words are the most ridiculous things he's ever heard.

"Angry at you? How could I possibly be angry when you've done nothing wrong? No, love, I'm angry for you. I'm angry that feckless rodent would dare to speak to you like that."

Leaning in just a fraction, he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his free hand rubbing a soothing circle on her hip.

She tilts her head just enough to look up at him, teal eyes peering at his own ruby depths. Her brows steeple and her lips are drawn in that worried pout of hers. Uncertain or unconvinced.

Astarion gazes back at his love, his expression softening as he meets her gaze. With a quiet sigh, he reaches up to smooth his knuckles against her cheek, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Ru," he murmurs, his voice low and gentle, "I'm not angry with you. Honestly, love, I know better than most just how little control you can have over your own thoughts, feelings, and memories. You're not the woman Gortash spoke about - you're the woman here, now, with me."

Her eyes flutter shut as she soaks in his words and his touch. Rujyr's expression remains puckered, but her limbs grip tighter. Astarion can feel the way she tenses, as if frightened if she lets go he'll slip away. There's a pang deep in his chest at the thought.

Always so afraid he will leave - vanish from her like smoke in the wind. That the restless roiling in her heart, her mind, the darkness that coils through her blood will somehow take him away from her.

"There's no getting away from me, love," he teases, his voice soft as he continues stroking her hair and her hip. "You're stuck with me now - for better or worse."

"Promise...?"

He chuckles softly at the word, but his expression remains serious, sincere. He pulls Rujyr a little bit tighter against his chest, his gaze locking firmly onto hers.

"Promise," he murmurs, resting his forehead against hers. "I'm not going anywhere, Ru. You're stuck with me."

She lifts a hand a places it delicately against his face, cupping the curve of his cheek. Rujyr steadies her breath, allowing her mind to calm in the quiet reassurance of him. Of those steady red eyes and the firm hands always soothing against her skin.

"I love you, Star," she murmurs, "No matter what happens."

Astarion's lips curve into a small smile as he feels her touch like a warm, comforting flame against his skin. The way she says his name - his nickname - makes his heart flutter and skip a beat.

"I love you too," he whispers in return, his voice slightly breathless as he gazes down at her. "No matter what."

He pulls her even closer still, wrapping his arms snugly around her back and drawing her flush against his chest. The elf presses a soft kiss between her horns before lowing them back against the bedroll. Rujyr shifts to snuggle closer against him and pillows her head on his chest, her tail winding firmly down the length of his leg.

Astarion lets out a gentle huff of laughter as she drapes herself, cat-like, across his body. Comfortably familiar, and the warmth of her holding tight to him is just as reassuring for him as it is for her. He brings a hand down to slowly stroke up and down along the curve of her spine, his touch gentle and his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm beneath her head.

"Comfortable, darling?"

"Always, with you," Rujyr answers.

His fingers toy absently with the small spikes of her vestigial wings and she makes soft humming sound.

A fond smile tugs the corners of his lips as she hums at the touch of his fingers. He continues to trace the curve of her spine, his hand moving slowly, lazily, up to the base of her hairline and back down towards the small of her back.

"Flatterer," he teases, half-muffled by another kiss to the top of her head. Even as lost and confused as they both find themselves, unmoored by the tides of fate, they can at least find comfort in each other.

Holding one another in these gentle embraces is home. No matter what came before.

@lanafofana @lastlight-inn @waterdeep-weavemoss

@crimson-and-lavender @feedthepheasants @spooky-lil-bee