#biker karlach

[sailorgundam308]

Bosozoku Karl

Cause? No idea. Only Larian can judge me

[ilikecrocssuckit]

hi hello yes is there a link to the biker karlach fic you mentioned in the comments of a random other post 👀

I just posted a new chapter today. It's a slow build but I hope I'm setting up a really good hate sex payoff in a chapter or 2. It was inspired by this fantastic art by @araneapeixes specifically.

Enjoy!

[voltaical-art]

yaaa women!!!! trying to work out designs for them :)

[ksbdfanart]

Fate221

[karlachismylife]

UHMMM HIIIII this is @valscodblog but her main acc!!

AND IM IN DESPRATE NEED OF HEADCANNONS-LIKE FLUFFY ONES FOR SOAP AND KARLACH.

like-who cooks?? who cleans??? just homey fluffy headcannons <3

love, Val <3

HI PRECIOUS oh you just know how to make a fella happy, thank you for asking about them T_T honestly, i think while they're actively adventuring with the whole party and task force they don't do shit >< like, they're not that irresponsible, there's just always someone who does chores more efficiently, leaving these two ADHD sweethearts to forage, hunt, stay on watch and participate in wood chopping or some other shit requiring a lot of strength and not so much thoughts. but when they somewhat settle down in their own little home...

Two of us wearing raincoats

Domestic fluff with Karlach x Soap

CW: a bit suggestive in some parts, title from a Beatles song, some self-projecting headcanons.

UPD: corrected some wrong facts.

cooking is definitely in Soap's reign. while scottish cuisine can be extravagant sometimes (i swear, i love scotland for a lot of things, but what the fuck are they eating oh my god T_T), Karlach is definitely not a picky eater and will stuff herself full with whatever her love puts on her plate. the only requirements are for it to have meat and be in large quantities, and those are easily ticked off. however, she actually genuinely likes a lot of dishes Johnny whips out seemingly with random ingredients! always on duty since a very young age and ten years in hell, Karlach barely remembers what a home-cooked meal tastes like, so for her to just smell something cooking in the kitchen or just outside the porch if it's outdoor meal day makes it already the best she's ever had. add the sheer adoration and giddiness she feels whenever Soap takes care of her, and she's right there, a dreamy look in her eyes and tail coiling around Johnny's ankle when he allows Karlach to hug him from behind and steal a bite of the garnish. she can cook, meat especially, but she just never learnt any fun recipes, so she can only watch, learn or guess how to add a little more flavour to a simple steak. unless you want a fried imp on a stick, that's her specialty (tastes awful and it's not her fault).

also, Johnny definitely knows how much Karlach likes seeing him wear an apron and does it as often as he can. it's not as much a sexy thing (although there are plenty times when there's just the apron and he earns himself a hefty slap on that bare ass- okay, we'll discuss that another time, hehe), but that same domestic feeling that they both miss, each for their own reasons. he definitely has the "kiss the chef" one and gets all his tips for good service in kisses and grabby clawed hands squishing his sides while Karlach stays pressed to him from behind.

when Karlach does cook though, Soap is not allowed the same privileges of being handsy on the account of it always ending up in their food burnt. even if she was boiling some eggs for breakfast. Karlach is best girl at everything except self-control around her beloved soldier, doesn't matter if they've been married for thirty years already, she cannot resist his touch, so Johnny's banished to serving plates and salivating over the frying smells and a good view of Karlach's rear.

cleaning, on the other hand, is more of a Karlach's thing, even though they are both shit at it (ADHD go brrr, you know). they both can stay disciplined and ready for duty at all times, but what surrounds them is utter chaos most of the time, which, honestly, only makes their remarkable service all the more impressive. they're just used to it, mugs of tea strategically forgotten on random surfaces only to be conveniently found at the right time (hours later, yes, but Karlach can heat it back up rather quickly lol), clothers scattered around, hanging from chairs in piles so thick that it's uncomfortable to sit on said chairs, dishes stacking up into leaning towers... Karlach gets the dark urge almost always first. probably at some other important task's expence, but she will hyperfocus and scrub the whole house until it's squeaky clean and her back is a bit sore.

however, they both enjoy doing the dishes! for Soap it's an act of service, for Karlach just a prefect mindless task to get her hands busy and let her thoughts wander (and a source for Soap puns, yes), they don't fight for it of course, but sometimes Johnny does them despite having also prepared dinner. he honestly isn't that bothered about splitting every chore fifty/fifty, if Karlach ever raises concern, he just shrugs and tells her he wouldn't let her lift a finger around the house if it was up to him - or that she pulls more weight in other areas (like the gym, lol. does she bench press more than him? she very much might...)

favourite position - cuddled up wherever they find enough space for their two huge bodies to be squished together. pathological cuddlers. will absolutely spend some of their free time just lounging like two couch potatoes, arms locked around each other and - yes, you guessed it - fidgeting. cuddling before sleep, after sex, in the morning, after coming home, when having a bad day, a good day, a neutral day, no day... Soap gets to be little spoon so often and he loves it just as much as pressing up against one particular red tail and holding his palm over the calm engine. getting up in the morning can be tricky since they often get dragged back and cuddled to death by a protesting cuddle monster muttering about five more minutes.

they need, like, an alaska king size bed just so they don't push each other off. absolute menaces to sleep with: it starts so sweet, hands holding, legs tangled up and one thrown over the other's hips, Karlach's tail holding onto Johnny's waist securely... and then they switch sixty sleeping positions, have a three-part breaking dance-off, reenact wars they've been to in characters and exchange a meaningful sign language conversation. all while asleep and blissfully unaware. the amount of times Johnny nearly lost his eye to Karlach's horn or Karlach was almost smothered by Soap's heavy weight plopping right on top of her with every pillow and blanket hogged (they have two extra for each and it still doesn't help)... poor Clive doesn't get to sleep in bed with them smply because it's safer for him to stay on a beside table.

enthusiastic house remodelers! Soap is very crafty and likes to build and asemble furniture from scratch, and Karlach wants their shared home to be perfect for their tastes - she knows all too well what it's like to be homeless. changing interior design and moving furnitue almost every half a year is fun for them, they never run out of ideas how to make their home even more homey! they almost do not argue when renovating, which is a bit surprising given they're both hot-headed, but they definitely resolve any disagreements right there on the floor of an empty room or pressed to a soon-to-be-painted wall.

fixing shit is Soap's duty. Karlach gets frustrated easily when something broken isn't getting fixed easily, so even if she knows what to do well, she might worsen the situation by raging against a shaky table or something.

breakfast in bed for both of them. they can never predict who's getting up first, so whoever wakes up buzzing (or just falls off the bed first) and is lucky to escape the cuddle monster definitely takes their time to pamper the other, cut some butt heart-shaped sandwiches or make a loopy smiley face out of eggs and bacon/sausages. both avid tea drinkers even though Soap prefers coffee. he just is constantly thirsty (in all ways).

snack beasts. they are constantly chewing on something, partially because it's a fidgeting thing, partially because they need their sugar fill. the whole house is filled with snack stashes, sweet nuts in little bowls, paper bags with cookies, berries always in stock... absolutely steal each other's snacks and offer to share without even thinking, it's an automatic thing no matter how deep in thoughts/busy they are. Karlach is more of a sugary and sweets snacker, so she often has sugar crumbs in the corners of her mouth, cookies clutched in her big palm, a honey jar with a stick she dips for a taste freqiently; Soap on the other hand is mostly after everything chewy, not so important whether it's sweet or not. probably has some chewy sticks/toys in addition to constant snacking. like a wee puppy with growing teeth.

Soap prefers baths to showers and Karlach does have fun with a longer soak as well (especially if bubbles and/or her hot husband are involved, and yes, it's always steamy with her. literally, she can still boil the water if she stays long enough). absolutely wash together most of the time, or at least share the bathroom before going to bed, one of them showering and the other one pissing/brushing their teeth. will hold hands when Karlach's in the tub and Soap is on the toilet and vice versa.

despite their love for a good cuddle lie-in, they definitely prefer active recreation and hobbies: hikes, sports, dancing, rock climbing, exploring, town fairs browsing, woodworking... except for some very low-energy days (executive dysfunction is no joke) they will be out, getting up to some safer-than-war adventures. definitely go camping a lot, also try to invite their mates too even though not everyone is so enthusiastic. but they can have fun at home too, they will most definitely sunbathe and go for swims in the river/little lake not far from home (even though it might turn into shell hunting or cave exploring. or waterfall sex. mostly waterfall sex.) or have quiet dance nights just in the living room.

absolutely run out under the rain to jump in puddles, splash each other, roll in the mud and kiss while they're soaking and yelling at the thunder excitedly. just another benefit of hardly getting cold - the rain evaporates from Karlach's skin and creates their own cloud of mist to pretend like they're two thunderstorm ghosts stalking through the small village. they are the worst influence on the neighbourhood kids and are absolutely responsible for the little tieflings and other children coming home covered in mud and dripping on mam's carpet.

a little (not little) extra for modern!AU :)

Karlach hates vacuuming solely because of the sound, and yes, she can still hear it even if she blasts music in her headphones or on the stereo ungodly loudly. it just irritates her to the point of raging (misophonia said hi), she'd rather sweep the floors manually or just let Soap take over. she is a little self-conscious about it though, so he has to play up his knight in grey sweatpants with no underwear on shining armor act and play-fight for the bloody vacuum until she feels better and leaves him to do the chore.

training is a family activity! they obviously go to gym together as much as possible (oh Soap is there only to show off his buff girlfriend and watch her excersise to the point where they have to excuse themselves for a bathroom break), but they have a little makeshift gym at home, like, maybe just a treadmill and some small equipment for days when they don't feel like going out. actually, i think they have a little gym even in Faerûn, that one was definitely built mostly by Soap with help from Karlach. it's nothing fancy, but since it is somewhat a novelty (very different from the usual training grounds with dummies and everything) they probably have neighbours and local kids/teens come and use it in exchange for thoughtful and heart-warming gifts. Karlach talks everyone's ears off about how crafty her husband is, and said husband walks around with chest puffed out like a bloody turkeycock.

they actually fight over music despite having similar tastes! but they have different opinions on when is what soundtrack appropriate. you cannot tell me they do not enjoy oldschool rock (and not just rock) (yes this might be just a wee bit self-indulgent BUT YOU HEARD THAT THEME IN KARLACH'S AVERNUS ENDIND RIGHT???), like, two-thirds of their playlist are from the period of late 1950s to 1990s. Price definitely approves. they are definitely both metalheads, perhaps not the most "true" ones, but they would get a vinyl record player to listen to some Iron Maiden or Gojira (please metalheads don't kill me if this is a poser thing to write, i respect the genre just not my style-) BUT they will fight over what should be playing in the car/while on the bikes/in the gym. they both don't like to sit with headphones on when together, so "each listens to their own" isn't a solution. and yes, they are a bit obnoxious about blasting their shit with windows open, but they try to remember to be respectful...

definitely obligatory listening to scottish bands, Simple Minds and others close to top on their spotify. Karlach would probably be curious to look for obscure bands and discover indie artists and share found gems with Johnny. also - yes this is also very personal, but i sincerely think it suits them - they love Ren (yes, he's welsh, i know), Karlach a bit more probably since Soap's lifestyle and views contradict Ren's message at some points, but they both know all the lyrics and get emotional when listening to his music. also, like, boxing to his music is the best outlet for everything pent up.

they both are so bad at grocery shopping, oh my god T_T they are absolutely prime victims of flashy marketing, eye-hurting wrappers, misleading deals with yellow labels and supermarkets' floorplans. Soap is a lost cause, Karlach sends him to fetch some milk and he comes back with a full bag of sweets, steak "for the weekend" and gum with the transerring kids' tattoos inside. it's a miracle if he remembered about milk AND brought the right one (he's definitely the type to buy some yummy-looking bannana-soy-whatever-overpriced-bullshit when they needed simple cow milk for masala tea). Karlach is slightly better simply because she gets just so overwhelmed by the choice that it's easier for her to stick to a poorly scribbled list of things she's used to. actually gets upset when she feels like she wants just a little something extra, but can't figure out even what aisle to look at to satisfy her craving. even worse if she goes grocery shopping when hungry (quickly becomes hangry and might call Johnny for emotional support).

skincare is a joke to them. the only times they do that is when they see some stupid animal-print face masks or when Soap gets tricked by packaging and smells and buys some chocolate body scrub with red pepper thinking it's pudding (first he eats a spoonful, finally discovering that it's not pudding at all, then tries it on his whole body to see if he'll smell like chocolate after, and he SWEARS swallowing that shit wasn't as painful as feeling it burn his asscrack and- yes this might be from my experience too). they have a home spa date and clown around the whole time, wearing fluffy robes, eating cucumbers off each other's eyes, lounging around with fancy wine glasses filled with beer and gossiping about neighbours. take a hundred silly pictuers and decide that their favourite part of a spa day is when they wash everything off in the shower together and have sex. a lot of it. nothing more arousing than your man with sparkly pink eyepatches stuck to his freshly shaven mug.

haircare is a whole another story, though! they are both very proud of their hairstyles and want them to look good, so they do frequently shave off outgrown parts (often do that for each other without going to a hairdresser) and style it. Soap's hair tends to get flat so he will worry about volume, while Karlach (who i strongly believe to be blasian) needs oils and moisturisers for her hair. it's pretty short and only mildly wavy, so not the most troublesome to keep healthy, but she does look out for it. also for her horns too, it's canon that she uses oil to care for those babies!

while fixing stuff around the house is still mostly Soap's duty, fixing their bikes is Karlach's passion. she might actually have a whole garage in modern!AU, but even if she doesn't, she still spends hours elbows-deep in machine oil and grease, tinkering with the engines and polishing their shiny steel steeds. Soap often has to come get her out of her hyperfocus to have a bite and a cuddle-smooch (or more) session on the garage petrol smelling old couch.

watching football with beer and smoking (and possbly all the mates interested) is a must. they are so very yelling at the TV and slapping each other's thighs when there's a dangerous moment - and kissing when their team scores. probably the only thing on TV they will never interrupt with getting handsy, they're both too invested lol. god forbid someone in the room roots for another team than them, this will be such a heated arguement that outsiders might think there's a murder about to happen (it never strains their friendship with anyone).

luckily for Soap, modern!Karlach will not melt snow around herself, so they can and will go snowboarding at least once a year. he absolutely gets a kick out of teaching her, and their high body temperature is a welcome feature on such vacations. however, they still wear those stupid lovers-cojoined mittens on walks even though their hands never get cold.

whew, that was a ton of word vomit, haha, thank you for your ask! they are SO appreciated as well as likes, reblogs and just the love i see here for my precious explosive adhd meow meows T_T feel free to request more! also not just about them, i will gladly write for other COD or BG3 characters. any pairing, also x reader or x OC, why not. i need to get my english writing skill up, feels so weird to see it compared to my first language texts...

[memento--moray]

More Karlach, my beloved.

[ishouldgay]

Please know that everyone looks hot as hell in Minthara's clothes 10/10

[outergh0st]

(starting off with my first post on tumblr with a BANG live laugh love karlach!!!!)

sketchdump of my fav girl karlach in modern AU! she a biker girl all the way bby 🔥

[dailyadventureprompts]

I've seen a lot of cowgal and biker AUs for Karlach but given her generally heroic disposition, tendency to run into the thick of things, the fact that she wields an axe, and love/hate relationship with flames I'm surprised I haven't seen more firefighter based art of her

I mean, one of the very first things we hear about her is that she gives off "carry you to safety" vibes. It works. To say nothing of beef/cheesecake pinup calendar poses and the inevitable "sweatily stripping off ashcovered protective uniform after a long shift to see the tattoos and glistening muscles" moment that features in those kinds of stories.

Think about it friends, think about it

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

I've had a pretty busy week, but I've also been accumulating more hours in the Aasimar Barbie Dressup Simulator BG3 modding toolkit. And you all get to hear about it. Rejoice! It's that thing where to get good at something you just need to get really obsessed with endlessly redoing one blorbo in it.

(I was trying to have a conversation in Discord about this but my messages kept getting flagged... hence the post hoc moon pasties on some of these, sorry. I tried to be funny with it.)

I've actually redone and spruced up all my textures so now they're much more high res and not annoyingly muddy anymore.

I've also done a ton of streamlining, hoping to remove as many steps and prerequisites/dependencies as possible. No more mucking about with body tattoos and endless interfering layers and neck seam nonsense - I have one proper Larian Virtual Texture for the body and one mask for the metallic "non-skin" colour of the kintsugi. Now all that gets adjusted is a single parameter, applied to the "Nightsong" skin colour preset - which means no more struggling to match her unique marble-pale skin tone with "close enough" character creation options, either!

Thanks for the quick outfit loan, Karlach, it's great to see everything is showing up as expected with regards to gaps in clothing, too.

Also fun, when you load equipment visuals, you can apply the "Nightsong" armour colour preset to them, which is like applying a dye in-game (so colours change depending on the material they represent - leather, metal, fabric, so on). And so you get all the outfits in Aylin's personal colour scheme. Pretty cool! So here's, say, Avernus biker Aylin. Or Selûnite robe Aylin.

Same goes for any of the racial underwear options (this is half-orc and dragonborn). (This is also me showing off the textures again shhhhh.)

So much blue! I know this is the result of her armour having this particular blue defined as the main "fabric" colour for those three fancy belt favour/banner things she has, but I like to think Aylin just has a favourite colour that she prefers with the same intensity she does everything else in life.

In any case, I'll see about packaging this up and reuploading pretty soon!

[psyoni]

Hi) I'm back! With new style and with increased abilities!

Agregor on DA and Tumblr, and Neuro Oni on other social networks.

I draw all my arts by myself (without artificial intelligence intervention) Currently I am in the process of playing through the game Baldur's Gate 3 (a cult series of games set in the world of Forgotten Realms and a system of rules and combat from Dungeons & Dragons) And I'm absolutely delighted!) In style, it is very reminiscent of the old game Neverwinter Nights 2 and the first Dragon Age. The whole thrill of these games is that the party members (or NPCs) you meet in the game’s plot behave as if they were alive - they interact with you and with other characters. They love, hate, tease each other. With them you can start and develop a love line (romance)! Of course, I started playing as a character - a tiefling - a cross between a demon and a human.) They are my favorite race since the days of Neverwinter! And, of course, my crush in BG3 was none other than Karlach. Despite the fact that she is also a tiefling, a barbarian, a berserker, with the appearance of a biker’s girlfriend and with a mover instead of a heart, she turned out to be very kind and humane) That's why my first BG3 art is dedicated to her!

Soon expect new art from me on BG3 and more)

COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN! PLEASE, NOTE ME, IF YOU ARE INTERESTED

[sailorgundam308]

Quick modern AU Karlach idea…

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 14 - Kevin Bacon

Y'all talk about space dongs, before being rudely interrupted.

On AO3.

Your mouth tastes real weird when you wake up. And you’re more tired than you were when you went to sleep. Like that line from that Bilbo Baggins guy about being butter scraped too thin.

You lie on your stomach, numbed arm beneath your cheek (all of it crusted in drool), and the other arm twisted up all weird beneath you.

“Mgrghngh,” you say as you roll to your side.

You’re more tired than you was when Astarion pulled you outta the river he left you to drown in.

A voice lilts all pretty nearby. Speaking of. The man (elf vampire) sits a few feet away, needle in hand, working surprisingly quickly for a man with no sight.

Oh fuck. You lost your whole, entire corn-husking mind last night. And he fucking heard you do it.

“’M good,” you manage and reach for your bag for a dirt potion.

 And then wait for him to respond. Because he’s the type of asshole that relishes in the kind of barbed commentary that comes from watching somebody lose their whole corn-husking mind. Only he sits quiet. Sews a couple more stitches before tying off his work and snipping the thread with his teeth.

It’s your pants (trousers). He’s slit the sides and rigged them up with leather cording. It’s a real Mad Max kinda biker look, but it’s so much better then running around a refrigerator cave in a shirt and a fucking breechcloth (that shit was for summertime in fucking North Carolina, goddamnit).

“Try these on,” he says and holds it out. His back is mostly to you.

You stand all awkward. One knee cracks. And you shuffle over as pins and needles sweep up and down both your arms. Astarion sits all placid, tucking his needle into…is that a sewing kit? Man’s got a sewing kit? It even kinda looks like a goddamn cookie tin.

You slip one leg through, then the other. Gotta fiddle with them laces, and in the end, they really are side chaps.

“These’re great,” you say. You can even wiggle around without it pinching nowhere. It’s a little loose in the crotch, but that don’t even matter. Only thing it don’t got is pockets.

“I have something else,” he says. And reaches into his back and pulls out…

“Panties,” you say, in fucking Chondathan (at least he told you that’s what it was, this time).

He grins. “Well done. Now, I only had enough material for three, and you’ll need to belt them, but it should be more comfortable than stuffing that bundle into your trousers.”

That sounds like an innuendo. Shit, man made you panties. It’s the most weirdly personal gift you ever got in your whole life.

Great timing, too, if the general achiness curling low in your gut is any indication. Bitch is late. Not surprising, given all the fuck shit that’s happened. But still. She was gonna show up at some point.

What he made is kinda like ancient Roman bikini bottoms (which was a thing). Ties on each side and still a little baggy, but weird, old-fashioned granny panties is still panties that you didn’t have a minute ago.

You consider tapping his shoulder and thanking the man. Wonder briefly at how you’re more comfortable in your own head about like, physical affection with everyone else (imagining swooning against Karlach and frenching Shadowheart when she closes gashes you didn’t even notice). But when it comes to him, you just…can’t. Can’t even entertain the idea of joke kissing him, not even in your own head. It feels…weird. Like standing on the edge of a cliff.

“I did make a few hasty modifications,” he says as you start to unlace them trousers so you can slip on the panties. Which is when you catch his smirk. You seen that smirk before. That one’s goblin shit, right there.

“What did you do?” you say.

He waves a hand. “It’s merely cosmetic. And not my finest work.”

Did he leave one of them panties crotchless or something? Rig it to rip up the—

Nope. They’re all solid enough. And decorated with a simple piece of sloppy embroidery. Heat rushes up your face and you almost cringe away, until you realize that he wasn’t putting a dong on each one, but what you think is supposed to be a mushroom.

Because he’s a fucking goblin and is incapable of passing up an opportunity to poke at you.

“Cute,” you say.

“Aren’t they just?” He grins wide enough to show off his fangs. “I felt we should commemorate your first brush with hallucinogenics, darling. Consider it a souvenir.”

“And you thought the best thing for that was stitching them into my new drawers.”

“I had to contribute something.”

You stare at him for a long moment.

This all reeks of guilt. The whole “cutting you loose” thing. And goddamnit, it’s working. You still ain’t sure what you should be feeling about that. What the just thing is. Part of you thinks you should be pissed. Any maybe you are? But he’s also just…it’s difficult. It was a shit decision. Making it would have been a shit decision either way. And what saved you wasn’t him or even you; it was your bag getting caught up in some rocks. Ones you might not have come near if he hadn’t cut that rope. And then you woulda drowned for sure and been a bare-assed ringwraith in a fucking cave forever.

This might be him manipulating you. Making sure he does nice things so you don’t get mad—cause he ain’t fessed up on it. You noticed that.

Then again, he was acting all weird about this whole thing even before that cavern, when he realized he couldn’t see and you realized he’d have to rely on you. He really doesn’t like owing people.

What a fuck shit mess.

“Everything all right?” he says because you been quiet for a solid moment.

You wriggle back outta them trousers, pluck them up. Eyeball the tent. “I’m gonna go get changed, and then what’s say we get the hell outta here?”

***

You got three dirt potions left. You been down here, on y’all’s own for about three days already, you think. You should start rationing the fuckers. When you tell Astarion your plan, he starts speaking Chondathan at you. And he’s somehow even more pedantic about it than Gale makes you repeat yourself over and over until he’s satisfied with your inflection (fucking language rolls its goddamned r’s, which you was never good at).

After thirty minutes of you spitting all down your chin like a dumbass, he finally lets up.

He’s so quiet behind you, after that. Man’s got his pickup lines; can turn on the sleaze in less than a second. But casual conversation that ain’t complaining about something or imagining killing something or someone?

“So,” you say. Go for the tried and true, “You got any hobbies?”

“What, aside from murder and picking locks?”

Jesus, he ain’t never gonna let that go.

“Yeah,” you say.

A long pause. The cavern y’all are in now is lit up a little by them mushrooms. Y’all skirt around another bigass crystal somehow lit up from within. Probably some bullshit magic. It’d all be pretty if it wasn’t a giant cavern filled with fuck-knows-what hiding in the deep dark between the glowing fungi.

“No, not really,” Astarion says.

It takes you a second to connect it back to your last question.

“Huh,” you say. “That sewing was damn good for a man that can’t see. Better than most who can, I reckon. A fuck of a lot better’n what I can manage.”

“Considering your solution was to simply wrap a cloth around yourself, that’s not really high praise, darling.”

“Take the fucking compliment,” you say. “It’s good work. Even if them mushrooms look like dicks.”

His footsteps fucking trip. He sputters. “Excuse me? They look like what?”

“It ain’t really your fault. Technically, that’s what all mushroom is, anyway: space cocks.”

He makes a kinda muffled “ugh” sound.

And then a thought hits you. “Does your language have different words for genitals depending on the vulgarity? Is it even a vulgarity to y’all?”

“I…yes, actually.”

And the word he used translated to “cock.” Possibly the most vulgar, but also the least casual. Interesting. You do notice he don’t actually use hard swears (or whatever translates to hard swears). Combined with his fancy pants accent, you wonder what he was before that whole fuckface turning him thing.

“You know,” he says. “I didn’t expect this sort of conversation out of you. Though you do have a fine phallus of your own, so color me wrong.”

“Back to them space cocks,” you say, in an attempt to cut him off before the teasing can creep back in. It ain’t fucking weird having a goddamn sex toy. You’re a grown ass fucking adult.

“Space cocks. Do tell.” He literally purrs the last part of that. If y’all wasn’t walking, you’re sure he’d prop his chin up on one hand.

“Pretty sure I was babbling about them last night. But the parts we see, the parts that grow above ground? That’s just the reproductive parts of the organism it grows from. Which I always thought was funny since a lot of them look pretty phallus-like. When they ain’t being a cosmic horror and all.”

“And this amuses you, being a connoisseur of cocks, does it?”

Ooh, he’s digging.

“I seen enough,” you say. You ain’t folding that fucking easy.

“Forgive me darling, is there a point to this topic of conversation, or did you just really want to talk about cocks?”

“I want to talk about how weird mycelium are. You don’t need to—”

The rope tugs on your waist and you turn. He’s stopped. Grin dropped. Eyes open and unfocused, staring hard out into the darkness.

“Do you hear that?” he says.

You do not. There’s the hollow echo of the huge fucking chamber, your own breathing, and y’all’s footsteps crunching about in what has turned into dirt (must be the mushroom’s doing).

But his head tilts, and you know he’s tracking something. Intently. And the shadows around y’all become real dark.

“What is it?” you say as quiet as you can.

He don’t answer. Just frowns. Head turns this way and that, eyes darting around. Until his frown deepens. And the man looks down.

“There’s something beneath us,” he says.

A hidden chamber full of albino orc people your brain throws at you because it’s a motherfucker.

Then Astarion’s face goes blank in a distinctive way that opens ever, single floodgate of adrenaline you got into your circulatory system.

“It’s coming up beneath us,” he says, right as y’all both reach for each other’s hands and you holler, “Run!”

You catch the sound, now. Thunder shimmies up your shins through the thin soles of your stolen boots. With a couple steps, the ground shakes so bad you stumble. Astarion’s iron grip is the only thing that wrenches you back up.

“There’s a rock ahead,” you pant. Your throat already burns. “Next to a cliff. Mushroom…big’un. Growing on the side.”

The two of you stumble sprint over. Hit the edge of the rock right as the ground six inches from your heel erupts in a spray of dirt that knocks you to your knees.

Astarion manages to keep his feet. Once again hauls you scrambling up to the top of the stone as something roars behind you.

You don’t look. All effort is focused on the edge of the rock and the leap you’ll need.

“Three foot gap!” you gasp. “Plenty wide—”

“I can’t—” Astarion starts.

And you shove aside all your cringing and grab the man’s shoulders and point him in the direction he needs to go. But it’d be terrifying to leap without seeing. You remember the cavern where he found you, all the times he touched something. He needs guidance.

“Gimme the stick,” you say as a roar rumbles the air so hard your ribs rattle. You finally glance back.

Something big with a huge fucking mouth.

You barely fumble the stick, barely manage not to drop it. Skirt around Astarion. Judge the distance and leap. And it’s only once you’re airborne that you wonder if that bigass shroom can take your weight or if it’ll snap clean off the cliff like a rotten tree branch.

You land hard enough to go down to one knee. The shroom is squishy, yet firm enough that it only shivers under your weight like a hard mattress.

“Eleanor?” Astarion says, voice sharp.

You whack the cliff with your stick, at foot level, just beside you. His face snaps to that direction.

“Three feet! Here!”

He gives a single nod, waits for you to tap again—the thing below roar and its bulk moves up the rock oh fuck.

Astarion jumps. Lands right next to that sound, and you reach out to steady him and pull him further onto the shroom. Right as the big fucking monster comes bounding up the rock after him. You all but drag the both of you back, fall on your ass (Astarion stumbles over you) and scoot further away.

Up until your hand hits the edge of your little platform.

“Fuck oh fuck fuck.”

Somehow, it did not occur to you that the fucking ground monster might, like, climb.

Now you’re gonna die. Torn apart by a fucking armored hippopotamus-mouthed fucking tank of a thing that snarls and snaps…from its perch on the rock. Three feet of air between y’all.

Astarion claws into your shoulder. “What’s it doing?”

Big fucking monster makes a low sound. Paws at the edge of the rock. Then its head twists left, then right. It’s got little, beady motherfucking shark eyes on either side of what’s actually a massive, fuck off beak. It leans forward, one stubby foot reaching…

But then it pulls back. Makes that sound again. Leans real far forward to…nibble at the edge of y’all’s shroom and then make what you can only describe as a disgusted sound.

“Well?” Astarion says.

“I…” you say. Watch the thing growl and snuffle around. “I think it’s afraid of the mushroom.”

“What? What is it?”

“The fuck am I supposed to know?”

And the blind man rolls his fucking eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re a yokel from another plane. You’re sure it’s not about to pounce on us?”

It fucking stares at you, is what it does. Stands motionless, maybe a total of eight feet away, just fucking staring with its dead eyes.

Every muscle in your body goes limp and you almost swoon.

“I think we should be quiet,” you whisper.

To his credit, Astarion frowns, but crouches down to whisper back, “What does it look like?”

Stumpy legs, thick body, all of it plated in some armor looking hide. Big bitch has a face halfway between a shark and an African hornbill. All of it about the size of a rhino.

Which you tell him, leaving out the animal names. And to which he swears.

“You’re of no help, dear,” he says.

“You fucking asked me—” And cut off as the birdshark snorts. Like a cat watching a squirrel and dreaming of murdering the ever-loving shit outta it.

“We should stop talking,” you say.

“And what would you,” he starts. Seems to reconsider. Then lowers himself to sitting pressed against you. You manage to contain your fidget away. Mostly. And you both settle in for the worst staring contest of your life.

***

Birdshark gets bored after what has to be an hour. Huffs and moans, and then ponderously half slides back down to the ground. It gives you another glare. Then turns nose down, makes a chuffing sound, and all them armor plates fucking buzz and the big bitch slides into the dirt like it’s a fucking cow pond.

“What was that?” Astarion whispers.

The ground don’t move again. The buzzing stops. The whole cave falls silent.

“It went back underground,” you say.

Then Astarion starts to stand. “Well then, we’d beset get out of here before the beastie changes its mind.”

But you’re still staring at the dirt. You grab the bottom of his leather armor to stay him. “Did you hear it leave?”

The man pauses a long moment. Then sinks back down, silent as a whisper. “No.”

It hunts from underground, don’t it. It’s got eyes, and it for sure saw you, but sound seemed to really set it off. And the fucker is down there, buried, and it’s mcfucking waiting for you, ain’t it.

“It’s fucking Tremors rules,” you say. “Fuck me.”

Astarion shifts. You turn and catch the most baffled expression on him.

“It’s a story,” you say. “Monsters show up in a desert town. Big worm things. Hunt from underground. We can’t get on soft ground without it knowing and coming up right between our legs, I bet.”

You didn’t even know the man could get any paler. Granted, it’s like the difference between eggshell and dairy cream at some fucking hardware store paint aisle, and you can only tell the difference by holding up them swatches next to each other under the glare of a noon day sun. But it’s still impressive for a guy whose complexion can, at best, be charitably described as corpseriffic.

“Perhaps your people’s stories aren’t as fictional as you think,” he says.

Which one: they got them the concept of fiction vs. non-fiction and you got to learn how to fucking read here, hot damn, and two:

“I’m really starting to wonder,” you say.

So tremors rules. Fucking waiting at the base of that rock. You scan around the expanse of gloom and flat ground. Them other mushrooms is too high to climb, and you ain’t putting it past birdshark down there to uproot the damned thing and bite y’all’s legs off when it topples over.

But then, off in the distance, the color of darkness changes. You can barely see it (can only see it by looking around it), but there’s a slash of black about a hundred feet to the right. Beyond that, the soft glow of more magic cave mushrooms, all about level with the floor here.

“I think that might be a crevasse to the right,” you say. Scan it again to try to tell if it’s maybe just a ditch. No, no, you think the light reflects off stone on the other side, like a sheer cliff. Goddamn, it’s too dark. Fucking caves.

“What of it?” Astarion says.

Birdshark didn’t wanna leave that rock. It was only a short hop to get to y’all’s tender ass meat, but it seemed nervous. It would make sense for a subterranean predator to be skittish of open air.

“I don’t think it likes being away from the ground,” you say.

You can feel the man lift an eyebrow.

“Or we can stay here until I starve to death. You can feed on me if that happens, and good luck after that.”

For just a second, he looks at you like you done slapped him with a trout. Then he’s back to his usual sass and an eyeroll.

“Fine,” he says. “We’ll have to run for it. I can’t see, and I’m rather sure it’s faster than the both of us. What’s your plan for that, darling?”

You think back to that movie, and remember some of the goodies y’all still got left over from that goblin camp that you are one hundred percent sure Astarion commandeered.

“You still got them bags of spark powder?” you say.

[naughtybg3confessions]

I would go lesbian for punk Karlach and biker Lae'zel.

[skuntank]

WIP ... Biker/rockabilly Karlach stuff

[that-basic-simp]

Modern AU

Karlach X Fem! Reader WC: 1.6k+ A/N: I couldn't think of a good name for this, but really wanted to write in a modern setting.

As I was walking out of the building I was just in, my phone buzzed, revealing that my mother wants me to pick up dinner on the way home as she was stuck in the office. I let out a sigh as I swiftly turned on my feet, heading into the direction of the grocery store. Being a college student on a budget myself and having to get dinner tonight was irritating, but it was something I wasn't used to. My mother took on extra shifts or stayed longer because we needed the income as my father hadn't paid his child support, but it's not like it's needed anymore as I am over the age to where I can make my own money in an attempt to support myself and my mother.

Taking a turn down a busy road, I watched as the traffic was at a stand still. Some people were honking their horns, as if that did anything to move the traffic faster. But if it made them think that, might as well let them. Heading towards me were some people on motorcycles. Some were wearing helmets while others weren't. The one that caught my eye was the one who had bright red skin, long black and red hair that went sat on their right shoulder. A black crop top was worn underneath a leather jacket that had some spikes coming from the shoulders. Black pants were hugging their muscular thighs nicely as they sat up, talking to the other bikers. One thing I noticed was the broken horn and intact horn on their head and the tail that whisked back and forth.

I've seen stranger here in Faerun, especially on the Sword Coast here. I once saw a small bugbear going to town on an ogre almost twice his size. Normal Tuesday morning walk on my way to classes I guess. But a Tiefling with a Githyanki alongside what appears to be a human, elf, half-elf, and is that a vampire? In the sun? Guess he found a way to conquer it. I just hope he doesn't burn up in it. Seems like they were friends and I wouldn't want them to lose out on their companion. What the hells am I saying? Why do I care about them? They're nothing but strangers just passing by. Maybe I care because I don't have what they have. Well, at least not in the moment. I did have what they had before attending college. But all my friends decided to back stab me and go against me, even though I did nothing wrong. First it was my father leaving my mother and now it was my friends leaving me. Everyone leaves me, except for my mother.

It was us against the world when my father left at the age of ten. Then six years go by and my friends leave, making me the loneliest person in my school while they galivanted off into the sunset hand in hand, skipping in a field of roses. If only I was there to trip all of them. I would have loved to have done that whenever I was still in school with them, but they'd all avoid me. None of them even looked my way. It hurt like hell, but I didn't need them. I didn't need anyone.

"Hey," one of them called in my direction, whistling to get my attention.

I picked my head up and found the tiefling was looking at me. A smirk was on her face as she winked at me, wolf whistling.

"Karlach," the half-elf said. "We're in public."

"I can't admire a young lady?" she smiled.

"Why don't you go admire someone else?" I snapped, bearing what little fangs I had, no thanks to my human father.

"Come on now," the tiefling chuckled. "I am not trying to catcall or anything. You just look nice."

"Thanks," I mumbled as I walked faster, getting away from them.

"Nice going, Karlach," I heard one of them say.

"I am trying my best," Karlach said as all of them drove off to who knows where.

Heading inside the grocery store, I just picked up a few ready to make meals as that was the only thing that I could afford in this moment in time and what I was feeling. My mother wasn't going to get back until possibly eight or nine o'clock. So I was on my own for tonight and it would be better for her to have one of these instead of worrying about leftovers. About to head out, I found the same tiefling walking inside the store. I let out a sigh as I walked towards the front, just wanting to get out of here quickly.

Paying for the food items, I walked out of the store and into the parking lot, past the bike she had rode on. Stopping, I couldn't help but admire it. Walking towards it, the nice black metal was shining to where it was almost sparkling in the afternoon sun. The leather looked like it was taken care of on the daily and she did not miss a day of cleaning it.

"Hey," a voice came.

Picking my head up, it was an older druid who walked towards me.

"That your bike?" he asked.

"N-No, I-I was just admiring it," I stepped away from it.

"Looks like you were about to take it," he sneered.

"I-I swear I was just admiring it. N-Nothing else."

"I know the owner of that bike. He won't like it knowing you had your eyes on it."

That I knew was a lie.

"Excuse me? He?"

"Yes. He doesn't like it when others gawk at his bike like that. So why don't you scurry off before I tell him about you."

"Aye, what's going on here?" I heard the tiefling's voice come up behind me.

"This your bike?" the druid asked.

"It is," she said, pulling out her keys.

"M-My mistake," the druid said to me and walked off.

The tiefling looked over her shoulder, her eyes following the druid as he walked into the store before she turned towards me.

"You're the one from earlier," she said.

"Y-Yeah."

"Look I didn't mean any harm when I was looking at you."

"And you decided to follow me here to tell me?"

"Actually, I was on my way here after I was done hanging out with the others."

"Sure," I said, skeptical.

"I am telling the truth, but it's up to you on whether or not you want to believe me," she walked towards the back of the bike, opening up a small compartment.

She placed a small bag inside before closing it up, locking it.

"I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed."

"It's alright," she smiled at me. "Karlach," she held her hand out.

"Y/N."

"Oh you're Mrs. L/N's daughter, aren't you?"

"Y-You know her?"

"How could I not? Most well known tiefling in all of the Sword Coast. Most revered doctor. She treated me about two years ago when I had an accident on my first bike."

"Accident?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding her head. "It was a terrible accident. I was just driving when all of a sudden some idiot on another bike went into the opposing side of traffic. A car veered off, just barely hitting them, but I collided with the car. Totaled my first bike and now."

She removed her leather jacket and turned around, a long scar running down her back to the top of her tail. Putting her jacket back on, she let out a sigh.

"Got that along with losing part of my horn."

"I-I'm sorry about that."

"Nah, no worries. The ambulance took me to the hospital your mom works at and she fixed me up with no issues. She sat and listened to my side of the story as she told me that if she ever needed a witness for my trial, she'd be there in a heartbeat."

"So what ended up happening to the guy who got away?"

"Sued by both me and the driver of the car. Had to pay practically all the expenses."

"Got what he deserved."

"Sure in Hells he did. But anyway, mind if I take you back home? I-If you're comfortable that is."

"Sure. Why not. Beats lugging around my bag," I sighed.

Karlach swung her leg over the bike and got on. She moved forward a bit to make room for me. I wrapped my arms around her waist and she turned on her bike. Revving the engine a bit, she grabbed her sunglasses and placed them on.

"Hang on," she said and drove the bike out of the parking lot and onto the road.

I clung onto her tightly because of my own fear of motorcycles and motorized bikes. It wasn't like she was going fast or anything, since I lived very close, but it was how she was weaving in and out of rush hour traffic. Some cars were honking at her, giving her the finger, and even yelling at her. What did she do? Yell back, flipped them off, and even laughed. Her carefree attitude was something to get used to, but hopefully I wouldn't see her as often. Reaching my apartment building, she parked her motorcycle and cut the engine before putting the kickstand down.

"There you are. Safe and sound."

"Thank you, Karlach," I said and got off of the bike. "I hope you have a good rest of your day."

"You too. Oh!"

I turned and faced her as she reached into her pocket, pulling out a small sticky note. Scribbling something down, she handed it to me.

"If you ever want to go for a ride sometime in the near or far future," Karlach smiled. "I'll be down."

"T-Thank you, Karlach."

"See ya around," she said, staring the motorcycle and driving off.

Looking at the sticky note, her name, number and address was there. Along with a little doodle of herself. I chuckled, heading inside my apartment.