#i knew you were going to be mean to my cleric

[greyias]

Shar stole my party's radiant damage bonus!

😮

THAT BITCH

[nickmarini]

Ayden’s Build 

TL;DR: Barbarian 1, Druid  2 (Circle of the Stars), Paladin 8 (Oath of the Ancients), and Cleric 9 (Peace Domain). Feats: Squire of Solamnia, Remarkable Recovery, Warcaster, Knight of Crowns, Spelldriver, Tough.

Building Ayden was a joy and a journey. To begin we were told we had 20 levels to work with and stats of 20 across the board. The only thing I knew about Ayden from the session 0 was that he was going to be a Cleric of the Everlight and that I wanted to make him the best support character I could. I also knew that the Dawnfather was aware of the mission briefing and so would have directed his growth to the task at hand. 

Stats of 20 meant multiclassing into any class was possible and that any ability score based bonuses or proficiency based abilities were going to be very good. I figured that with a warlock and a sorcerer we’d have some pretty good counterspelling and 9th level spell access, so I didn’t worry myself about either of those, instead focusing on making sure we all survived. 

The Dawnfather and The Everlight share 2 of 3 Domains. Life and Light. The Everlight’s 3rd domain is Peace. The Peace Domain cleric is an excellent subclass and its 6th level ability, Protective Bond, was something I knew I wanted to build around. The ability to take hits for, and aid, my siblings while teleporting around the battlefield is an excellent support ability and it also lets allies in the bond do the same, fostering sibling unity and cohesion.

With the Dawnfather having Nature as his unique domain separate from the Everlight, and literally sending himself to Exandria to infiltrate a city full of the greatest mages of the age, the Oath of Ancients Paladin seemed like an obvious path. It is the nature Paladin, (his domain) and 7 levels gives you both Aura of Protection and Aura of Warding. This means as Ayden moves through the battlefield with Protective Bond he will be granting allies +5 to saves from his cha as well as resistance to damage from spells. Incredibly good going up against the wizards of Aeor he knew he would encounter. I didn’t want to go to 10 with Paladin because I didn’t want to be immune to frightened. I just felt that fear played too large a role in the reasons the gods were here and although aura of courage is probably my favorite ability going back to 3rd edition, I felt like it wasn’t right for Ayden. He had to fear in order to reinforce his need to hope. 

These two classes were set relatively quickly and then I began looking at how else I was going to build him out. 

I really liked the idea of being able to grant my allies some extra attacks and so I was looking at battle master to get commanders strike and goading attack as well as maneuvering attack to help take hits for and position my allies. Action Surge is also a great ability that could really come in handy if I needed to save someone and needed one extra action to do so. 

I was also looking at the 2nd level Divination Wizard ability Portent. The ability to fully dictate 2 rolls is very powerful in certain circumstances, especially if the numbers are very high or very low.

Both these seemed good but weren’t feeling totally right from a character perspective. They felt too forced.

As I was playing around with these two classes I was also building Aydens backstory. I really liked the idea of him being agriculturally focused, as this aspect of the Dawnfather is actually his youngest. Sun begets days, and thus time and seasons, and as civilization evolves agriculture follows. The fighter levels lent the idea that he has spent some time training under a knight or some such warrior, and I knew that he would eventually find his way to Trist to begin his tutelage and become her cleric. I liked there being these different eras of his life. 

It was around this time that I got an awesome email asking me to describe Ayden visually so that the incredibly talented Hannah Friederichs and Cael Lyons could begin to bring Ayden and the Dawnfather to life. I wanted Ayden to be a simply dressed with a shield he took from his mentor, but no sword for striking. They sent 4 sketches and told me I could mix and match as I desired. Image #1 however was exactly as I had envisioned him. It was the simplest and had this depth to his eyes that told the story of a much older soul in this 15 year old body. It was so perfect that it made me realize I had been going in the totally wrong direction with fighter and wizard. The concepts of nature and agriculture were suddenly staring me in the face. It was not wizard, but druid, and his mentor could have taught him to be a paladin as easily as fighter, but if he is the bringer of agriculture who has he brought it to? A remote tribe still hunting and gathering was the answer. Barbarian therefore replaced fighter. I can’t tell you how influential the sketch I received was. It felt like a bolt of lightning suddenly clarified everything. 

I was for sure cleric 6, Paladin 7 and now looking at druid and barbarian. 

I didn’t know Druid subclasses very well but Circle of the Stars jumped out from the pack just with its name. The Sun after all is a star. When I read its 2nd level abilities Starmap and Starry form it was so obvious. I can cast Guiding Bolt to set up those attacks I wanted to grant, and I can glow instead of wild shape and either heal more or have a massive bonus to maintain the concentration spells I knew I wanted to cast. For the keeper of time to know how to read the stars just felt right. It also feel right that the druids of a tribe that had been hunting and gathering during the tumultuous Calamity would have learned to navigate by the stars, a singular constant in an every changing age. 

Barbarian has a number of interesting subclasses but none felt like they clicked. 1 level of Barbarian though, for a character with 20 dexterity and 20 constitution, catapults your AC to 20 and it also gives you a proficiency in Constitution saving throws if you take it as your first class, again reinforcing those concentration rolls. He was found as a child by this barbarian tribe and his first class is also his first community. Barbarian was the strong foundation I would build upon. 

I was now Cleric 6, Paladin 7, Druid 2, Barbarian 1. Reorganized to be the order Ayden would have taken them in it becomes the following:

Barbarian 1, Druid  2 (Circle of the Stars), Paladin 7 (Oath of the Ancients), and Cleric 6 (Peace Domain)

4 more levels to distribute. As a player who has mostly played 3.5 (I think downfall just about doubled the amount of 5E I have played) feats are my absolute favorite things, so getting to multiples of 4 in class levels to grab some was something I wanted to do (also I didn’t have to worry about ability score increases)! I had already given one feat up by taking barb and druid but I made up for it with the human variant. I also took the Knight of Solamnia background to give me Squire of Solamnia, the prerequisite for Knight of the Crowns which would give me the ability to grant attacks to my allies without needing battle maneuvers. 

So I upped paladin from 7-8 for a feat and then decided to take Cleric from 6-9 because it gave me a feat and access to the spell Dawn. I mean the Dawnfather should be able to cast Dawn after all! 

Now to feats

1) Background: Squire of Solamnia to give me the prerequisite for Knight of the Crowns

2) Human Variant: Remarkable Recovery. I knew I’d be taking extra damage so having 5 extra hp from any healing I get might just be the difference. It also plays into his background. He had to leave the Barbarian tribe he brought agriculture to because his skin could not retain the ceremonial tattoo ink that would have symbolized his initiation into the community. 

3) Cleric 4 Warcaster to get advantage on those concentration checks, that along with proficiency and starry form of the dragon means I need to take 28 damage (56 if it’s a spell) to even have to roll, and when I do I get advantage and proficiency on the check. Getting me to lose concentration is gonna be a task. 

4) Paladin 4 Knight of the Crown getting to grant an attack proficiency times per day combos wonderfully with Starmaps free guiding bolt, conveniently also proficiency times per day. 

5) Cleric 8 Spelldriver I’m gonna be casting a bunch of spells so the ability to cast multiple each turn is going to make my support spells come out much faster. I have a big fam to take care of!

6) Paladin 8 Tough I really went back and forth between this and Inspiring Leader. Granting all my siblings 25 temp hp is amazing but ultimately I decided that as I’d be tanking a bunch of damage I’d need toughness. Toughness gave me 15 more hp than Inspiring leader would have, and I ended up going down to 14 at one point so it was a decision that very much paid off by a single HP! Don’t wanna pop a deathward if you can help it!

Last but not least we were granted 2 magic items. One very rare and one uncommon. For my uncommon I chose a cloak of resistance, a parting gift from the tribe that Ayden could not join. This upped my saves to 11s or 17s and took my AC to 23. For his very rare magic item I took a spellguard shield, inherited from the knight who brought him from the remote tribe to Trist‘s school, giving me advantage on saving throws vs spells and magical effects and inflicting disadvantages on spell effects targeting me. Combine that with resistance to spells from Aura of Warding and that’s a nasty nasty combo v wizards. 

All in all Ayden’s build is an incredibly hard to target tanky support character who can move through the battlefield protecting his allies and being an absolute nightmare for enemy spellcasters. The only thing I really didn’t fully consider was just how much damage he would take from Warding Bond which totally bypasses all those wonderfully crafted defenses. As crazy as it is, I think we barely got to scratch the surface of Aydens full potential and it’s probably good those mages decided to cast spells at everyone else because Ayden was going to be a tough character for a spell caster to crack. The Commanding Rally did get to shine allowing characters who specialized in weapon attacks to get a little extra out of those 20 level commitments. Ayden’s build was crafted to keep his siblings alive and let them shine as bright as possible together. I’m very proud of him!

If you read all this then you’re as nerdy as me and deserve a reward!

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 1: Chimera

I had a daydream similar to this for a while and since I recently watched "Damsel" I thought human sacrifice was the way to go for day one of my challenge (Words you can only say on the internet, not in real life--) ♥ Enjoy!

Prompt: Chimera | Mixed // Misunderstood // Insanity Warnings: (Monster!)Yandere, Fem!Reader, Stabbing, Blood Mention, Dying Mention (no character death), Human sacrifice, Mention and Description of Monster (obviously), Long Post

"No... no, no, please no!"

"It is necessary for our future. For the kingdom."

There was reluctance in his voice; his eyes that he kept forward were fogged with inexplicable horror, his hand trembling around your wrist. But his grip didn't loosen, no matter how much you shook, tore, pulled—he didn't give you a chance to escape the fate he had sealed for you.

"Father..." you sobbed, stumbling over your own feet, your heels dragging the carpet with them as you planted them firmly into the fabric ground. You wanted to believe in the pain you had seen in his eyes when the clerics told your father what to do. Tried to believe he didn't mean to do this cruel thing to his one and only daughter, the last family he had. But you also remembered how his face hardened after the initial shock, how he made peace with this decision that he claimed was unavoidable, no matter how much it pained him.

"There will be no one left! If you continue like this, you'll be all alone!" you cried, the guards lowering their heads shamefully as you two passed them in the hallway in an unfit manner for royals. They wouldn't even lift a finger to save you or stand in the king's way to do their duty towards the princess they had protected all their life. You knew each of their names, the helms they were ordered to wear to hide their shame, not sparing them from being recognized.

"Brother is gone, Mother is gone! You'll have no one! There must be another way! There must be something we can do against this monster!"

No one would meet your gaze as you pleaded for your life.

Your fate was sealed.

Crying even harder, you collapsed to the ground, being pulled forward only by your father, whose eyes drooped heavy with tears. The years had worn him down, and the rising of an ancient creature had been the last thing his poor heart could take. Before you wasn't the king you once knew, the father you adored. It was but a poor, old man who had lost everything to one misery after the other.

And yet, he didn't waver, didn't stop. He turned around only to pick you up from the ground, setting you back on your feet, giving your pain no ounce of attention before continuing to drag you to the monster's cave. Down, down below the castle, until you were both drowning in the darkness and your sorrow. It was hard to hate your father, hard to hate the people that once loved you, when all they knew now was fear of a force no one had ever witnessed but the clerics had deemed to be the wrath of the gods.

"It's your duty," your father choked forth, a third down the endless staircase where it was as dark and suffocating as you imagined death would be.

"And who will you sacrifice next? Another noble? Another child? When will it end, Father?"

Coming to a standstill on the stairs, you heard your father gulp. It was the only moment of respite he granted you, and you should have used it to break free and run away. He was old, and you were not; he might have let you go, seeing as you were the last of his family left. But you didn't. Both of you were duty-bound, even if that meant killing you. You knew the answer to your own question, unable to bear the truth and the misery your escape would cause upon the kingdom you loved almost as much as your father did.

"When the monster is satisfied," he replied sorrowfully, unable to give you the exact amount of sacrifices it would need. No more words needed to be spoken, and as you two descended the staircase, his hand slipped from your wrist, but your legs didn't stop.

Truthfully, your knees were nearly collapsing from fear, and your instincts screamed at you to flee. But when you embraced the country as the future ruler after the disappearance of your brother and your mother, you swore to protect it. You swore to be who they needed, and what they needed was this. A sacrifice.

You had to catch yourself a few times on the stone walls that encased you on your descent. A few times you considered abandoning everything. But what would happen to your people? What would happen to everyone you held dear, who believed in you all your life and supported you unconditionally?

The betrayal of your own father, willing to sacrifice you, was worse than any assassination attempt and hurt more than the wounds of loss inflicted on you by the very same man who promised you to do everything to unite your family again. But you weren't that stupid, never believed a word when he told you they ran away, abandoned you two. As you walked down these stairs, it became abundantly clear that he had lied. That everyone had lied. The more you thought about it, the more it was obvious what happened.

You were not the first in this long line of sacrifices.

But when the soldiers announced the beast was ravaging the villages again, the people demanded a solution, and the clerics swore that only a noble sacrifice could satisfy the beast's hunger. Another one. And now, another one. What was your father supposed to do? How could he refuse? How could you?

Two lamps welcomed you in front of the sturdy doors, the only way to keep the monster out. The stale air choked you as you stood before them. They showcased an impressive number of ancient runes carved into them for protection. The handles were clean, and the runes seemed to have been re-carved recently. You began to shake uncontrollably at its sight, your mind unable to comprehend it was going to die but knowing that these stone doors were all that separated you from your fate.

Only now did you hear your father's sobs and watched him come undone as you two stood in front of the entrance to the cave that housed this terrible creature for centuries. Without thinking, you reached out your hand, wanting to rub his back, perhaps find comfort for yourself in the touch. But at the last second, you withdrew, the betrayal too tremendous, and this gesture not changing anything besides making it harder to let go.

He pushed onwards as if driven by an invisible force. Your heart couldn't understand the dissonance between his actions, the crying yet complying. But your head did. And as much as fear was gripping you, as much as you wanted to flee, you followed him warily, driven by the same force whilst harboring the same tears in your eyes. You were both mourning the now, past, and future. The pain was almost too much to bear.

With all his strength—which seemed like none in this haggard, old body of his—your father grabbed the handle of one of the stone doors, the grating sound of it shaking you to the core as he pushed it open just a gap. He couldn't and wouldn't open it further, not risking more than he already did by offering your life in exchange for peace.

"Go," he ordered, sounding tired of life, as if it was his turn to go. "Go, I'll bear witness."

You noticed the chair by the lamp, the wood new and the cushions still whole. How many hours, how many days, had your father sat here, listening to the monster? Making sure the door was locked after sacrificing his family one by one? Witnessed the horror, the screams?

Something inside of you told you he sat there for many days and would sit for many more, as was his duty as the king who sacrificed his people. You couldn't place his pain above yours but knew you couldn't run either. Was this how your brother and mother felt as well? Did they want to leave but couldn't, despite feeling so, so hurt and betrayed? Your father did it for the greater good, but did he have to be so heartless about it?

You stood before the gap, only darkness awaiting you, suddenly frozen when you felt his hand at the small of your back, still warm, still caring. For a moment, he was your father. For a moment, you wanted to believe he acted in your best interest, not the kingdom's. For a moment, you still loved him more than anyone else.

"Forgive me," your father whispered, and you dared to look back over your shoulder when you felt the sudden pang of pain in your side, the betrayal so loud it overtook all your senses with the sound of your body being sliced open.

With a knife in your side, you were pushed forward, gasping and sputtering as the pain zapped through your veins. More tears welled up in your eyes as you collapsed to the ground, feeling the rumble of the door being shut behind you. This time, you did look back, but all you could see was the red light of the torches through your tears before you were plunged into darkness, the grating of the stone doors echoing from all around you.

So much anger, so much frustration welled up in these last moments of your life. The betrayal made you scream, but as the sound left your throat, you realized the strength you had gained from the pain. Although unsteady and frantic, you got to your feet, your hand catching onto the wall to your right, guiding you through the entrance. You were driven by nothing but betrayal and anger, even as the pain weaved its way through your body, making every step harder to endure.

Logically, you knew it was mercy. That the intention had been for you to die before the monster could get to you. A monster no one had ever seen, ever survived to tell the tale of. And although it was the only explanation for all the misery your country had to endure, if you ever wanted to forgive your father and die honorably, you had to see it for yourself, witness its existence before your death. You grabbed the knife, but you realized it hurt too much at the first miserable tug. That you couldn't possibly get it out. Even though you had nudged it a little, you decided to leave it there, allow it to give you some time.

Finding light at the end of the tunnel was a surprise you didn't expect. Stepping out into a cave without a roof, showcasing the gray sky, and bathing you in a light drizzle was not the scenery you expected to die in. There was no way out but through the hole in the ceiling, yet you didn't remember where this place could possibly be in the kingdom, just that it was impossible to escape. How could anything survive here, with walls too smooth to climb out and just a carved-out pit to hide from the weather?

You noticed there was hay in the pit, still dry, but not much else except for dirt and stone all around you. You expected bones and clumps of flesh, gore, and vile. The hallway you had come from was shrouded in darkness, but there was no going back, that much you knew. You took another step forward, into the light, and immediately, you were hit with dizziness, your body falling forward, but you caught your balance just in time. Seeing your own blood dripping onto the wet floor, robbed you of the last bits of strength you had gathered, and ultimately, you sunk to the dirty floor, hitting it on your side.

So this is it, you thought as you lay there, realizing there never had been a monster. No monster could have escaped from this inescapable place and caused havoc. It was simply a place to get rid of people in the name of sacrifice. All this time, part of you had defended your father in your mind, but you had been wrong in the end. And it had led to your doom, your death so unfitting of you. Had you not been a good princess? Had you not offered help and support wherever you could, gotten your hands dirty for those in need, and lived humbly while being kind? Was that the reason they had to get rid of you? Because you just had not been the kind of person they wanted to give the throne to, not as ruthless and stern as your father?

The ground shook around you, but you were too tired to flinch, to even react. It was strange; the continuous pattern of rain had been interrupted as the day seemed to darken above you. You tried to twist your head, focus your gaze, and make out what happened, but it was hard to understand what you were seeing.

"So what would you do if you could do it all over again?" a voice asked. It made you wary, even if you barely had the strength left to care. Deep and gravely, you felt the ground shake under your barely conscious mind. Was it a man? A woman? Were they talking to you? Where did they come from?

"Wouldn't you hunt them down, kill them for what they did to you, destroy every bit of the land they cherished over you?"

Someone—something—completely blocked out the light shining down from above. A shadow so dark it turned day into night. The rain stopped completely just as your breathing began to be labored, shallow. You tried to focus, tried to make it out. The shapes of the body made no sense. Round, triangle, rectangles. A face, wings, paws. It smelled wet and rotten next to the stinging metallic of your own blood. Foul, yet sweet. The body reminded you of a beast, but when its face drew closer, it was that of an angel whose expression was not right yet so familiar in its pain.

Oh, god, you thought. It's real. The monster is real.

"Wouldn't you return their gestures? Take the same things away from them that they have from you? Their food, their freedom, their family? Tell me, little princess, would you not destroy the very things they worked so hard for, build on top of the corpses of those you love?"

It leaned down a little more, and you couldn't help but hitch a breath. Razor-sharp teeth and slitted eyes, their glow so harsh with all the darkness around you. You felt the breath of the creature wave over your throat—it was this close. Close enough to bite, crunch, and break through your pitiful bones. And yet, despite the venom it spewed, you heard only the miserable truth of those who were wronged. This thing, whatever it was, in all its gruesome, beautiful features, was the same as you were. Mourning the same things, raging for the same reasons.

But as you used the last bits of your strength to think about it, you realized you couldn't agree. You were angry and betrayed, but whatever this creature was, so strange, so different, it was real. You had not been lied to. And it must be deadly, just by the looks of its teeth and claws, so naturally, people would fear it. Naturally, they'd do what they could to get rid of it. How could you blame them for being afraid when you, most of all, knew how terrifying it was?

"Maybe..." you croaked, forcing the word from your throat. "Maybe I'd try to change things next time. No more betrayal. No more sacrifice. Peace. Understanding."

Your father would have called you his sweet, gentle daughter had he heard you. But you were dying, so why should you care if your answer was a bit naive? You didn't want anyone to go through what you had to go through; feel what you felt. Not even the monster. And who knew? Maybe it was no monster at all, just because it looked different.

"Hmm?" the voice coaxed, withdrawing in movements that were too sharp for its human parts, its manners so bird-like and not just because of the wings that fluttered and puffed expectantly. You realized it wasn't just one thing as you heard claws scraping impatiently over the ground. Huge paws settled on either side of your body as the creature hovered above you. It could crush you with the immense size of its body, but you couldn't help but reach out, feeling the soft fur of its leg against your fingertips.

"Because next time, I'd not be helpless. I'd not fear you more than I fear my father. Next time, surely... I'd try to do better..."

"Hmm? Hmmm?" The creature kept coaxing more from you, not realizing that you lost conscience by the fading of your voice.

"Interesting," it chittered after a moment of silence. Ears perked to hear your heart slowing while your hand fell off its paw. Its own hand reached out, the round of its claws brushing up your palm until it could intertwine your fingers, your hand barely big enough to meet the requirements to be held by theirs.

It sniffed the air, the smell of blood pungent.

"Interesting," it repeated, chuckling as it grabbed you by the arm, its free hand dedicating two oversized fingers to grab the knife. It wasted no time lifting you high into the air at its eye level before pulling the knife out of you and discarding it over its human shoulder.

"I'll hear what you have to say, little princess. Wish to learn if you could be different from all of us. But first, you must heal. Must stop the bleeding. Humans are so fragile."

It tutted as it carried you over to its resting space, and your body jerked as the blood gushed from the stab wound. It truly seemed to be the end for your bloodline as you were laid safely between the monster's paws, settled to be either tended to or eaten. But at least you wouldn't have to witness it.

You'd not die a monster like everyone else.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««   

"Is it done?"

Despite your senses only partially having returned, you recognized the voice that woke you from slumber. It was the same exhausted, whiney voice that had fooled you into obeying. Your father. The king.

You felt like you were still dying, wetness spreading over your back as pressure rubbed it all over your skin. It almost felt like a massage, but it was nowhere as relaxing, not with your body still in a state of deadly distress. Even if you weren't dying, it sure felt like it all over again.

"It sure is, my king. You finally managed to satisfy me with your puny sacrifices. This one is much better than the last."

This time, the voice was much closer, so cut-throat close, in fact, it raised goosebumps on your skin. The "massage" stopped, and you heaved a breath, but your body barely moved. The sarcasm in the voice, however, didn't go unnoticed. You were witnessing a conversation, much more than participating, but undoubtedly, the topic was you.

"By the gods... don't tell me you plan to--"

"Eat her?"

You remembered now. It was the voice of the monster. Memories flooded back to the forefront of your thoughts, memories of the questions it asked, memories of what it looked like. It hurt to think about it. The fear that returned made it all the more painful.

"No, I will not eat her," it laughed gently as if it was careful not to wake you. "I only eat the corrupted. Minds like yours that would sacrifice his whole family. Minds like mine that want only what is equal to me. You wouldn't understand. You are just human."

"I don't understand, you made me do this! I only did what you forced me to! You wouldn't stop killing even when I begged you to! It was you who forced me to sacrifice my family!"

A shiver went through the creature. You felt it all around you, making you realize it was all around you. Slowly, you managed to open your eyes. The thought of why am I not dead crossed you as you laid still, barely able to see through the gaps between your lids. All you witnessed was the soft light barely grazing you, the shadow of the king interrupting it even though you could barely see over the massive paw that secured you in place.

"Do not blame me for your doings, human. Have you forgotten what those gods of yours did to me? What your ancestors begged them to do to me? I am only giving back to those who wronged me, and you are to appease me if you wish to live. I made you this; a man, a king. I can take it from you as I please."

Arms snaked around you, human in shape but too long, wrapping around your body in ways you had never been hugged before. Lifting you, cradling you, a fully-grown adult, like a child. Your eyes fell close again as you were nestled against soft fur, with a sturdy body beneath, but the hold on you was so gentle that it made you want to fall asleep again.

"But you are lucky, for I am finally appeased by this little one," the creature purred, and you breathed a barely noticeable sigh of relief. You did it. Your sacrifice had not been in vain.

"It will satisfy me for a while, as did you when you were but a wee little farmer's boy. Still innocent, still hopeful, and wishing for change. She will have to claw her way out of here, and I will feed on her despair, her corruption. And once she is ready, I will send her to you so she may end your pitiful existence. Only then will you be ripe for eating, and she will continue humoring me as is the destiny of the strong-willed. I am eager to see how she will struggle after your passing, how she will break. I hope she will fare better than you, who became but a boring toy the moment I gave him the freedom to act in my name. You were not nearly the tyrant I made you to be."

"Please," you heard your father whimper, and it wasn't long before sobs echoed through the cave. "She's my daughter. She doesn't deserve this. All this pain and suffering to amuse you..."

"Neither did I."

You felt the brush of a hand against your cheek as if to wipe away tears that you hadn't cried. Even when you remembered the claws, the touch was careful, adding no more hurt.

"Now leave," the creature ordered, and the hand fell from you as you were laid down again. "She is no longer yours. And she might just have become my favorite toy ever since this existence came to be. But she needs to heal, and she is so close to waking up from your nagging. If you wish to settle your affairs, now is the time. Before I have broken my toy enough to send her after you, King."

The sobs grew louder for a few moments before they turned into sniffling. Steps crunched over the ground, but they suddenly halted. "I hope this time, your sacrifice kills you, you vile thing. You are no human anymore, but you are too clever for a beast. Like a corpse, refusing to die."

"Oh," the monster chuckled, but the laughter grew louder, and it seemed the creature was unable to hold it back. "Look at you, almost like you once were! It's a pity you are so old and worn. But contrary to you, my game won't die, and more will suffer before your wish will come true!"

You barely heard the steps disappearing back into the castle over the creature's laughter, but it soon stilled as the heavy stone doors closed shut, leaving you behind once more. Your heart ached. It was too much to bear, but you grew uncomfortably rigid in the creature's hold, its breath grazing your skin.

"You're awake, you should have told him what you feel. Are you mad now, little girl? Scared? Angry? Don't worry, you'll get to tell him all that is bothering you soon. We'll have so much fun devising your downfall. You'll be the most corrupt ruler of them all. I know it."

"W-" your voice failed as you tried to speak, and the creature chittered at your weakness.

"Why? It's lonely. So lonely to be cursed. But not when more people are suffering. You think you can make a change, but you are wrong. It's my destiny to be cursed, and now it is yours, too. As was it the curse of the king before you, the queen before him. I break them, reshape them, and when their time comes that they forget about me, I curse them with the same loneliness. The circle will be endless, but it will be fulfilled nonetheless."

Skin smushed against yours, a cheek pressed against your cheek, forehead, and face. Like a parent to a child, affectionate, sweet. Different from the truths the monster was revealing. Finally, you managed to open your eyes and stared into the strange face as an unsettling grin split its features.

It was even less human than you thought it to be, its face like what a human bird would look like—sharp eyes, aquiline nose. Feathers are sprouting instead of hair, framing its face and all over its arms. The sharp horns of a goat broke through its feathery fur on top of its head, and its torso changed into that of a lion, four more paws added to its limbs, with its scaled tail snaked around one of the hindlegs. Wings rested leisurely over its animal body, flinching occasionally as it watched you with more interest than anyone had ever before. It was beyond comparison; there was nothing you could describe without sounding like you had gone absolutely insane. So many things mixed into one body, it was a wonder it could even live. A mad experiment.

Death incarnated.

"So, fight me, little princess. Make me forget this loneliness for as long as possible, so I may not resort to what I do when I get lonely—ravage, take, eat. Challenge me, escape me, try to kill me, so I can do what I do best to you, corrupt and fill you with the despair of realizing you are nothing compared to me. That you will always have to live in fear. That you are always mine."

You gulped, your throat slowly coating with saliva again, smoothing your poor vocal cords, returning the ability to speak again.

"I refuse," you croaked. "I'll never be the monster you want me to be."

"Mhm," it hummed, but it was a sound of pleasure. "Just like that, little princess.

"I knew you'd not disappoint me."

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

K follow me Astarion just sees tav like loving on children wherever they go and hes like?????

And tavs like ive always wanted my own child but i didn't wabt to ask you with every

This sends poor starion into a crisis does he was children how many

I think I have followed you. Let's see!

So for this one we got a lil time jump, ambiguous and vague setting and timelines with game spoilers present. M/F pairing because that is my go to and pregnancy is mentioned. Vampiric pregnancy also so there is some weirdness there (i made it up no idea if it's dnd accurate). Vague Tav backstory of a wonderful mother and going off to become a cleric.

~

Astarion was well used to your antics by this point. You had a severe lack of instincts linked to self-preservation, which led to a consistent pattern of doing, frankly, stupid shit. Stupid, but kind. Nothing that Astarion hadn't adapted to, after nearly two years of being attached at the hip you became pretty attuned to your lover's personality.

He could even go as far as to say that he had grown to love your annoying predilection for pious morality. Perhaps he loved talking you out of certain virtuous dangers more, but still. He appreciated who you were, he adored who you were. But Astarion was no saint, despite his insistence on attaching himself to one.

Which is exactly why he was far from amused when you signed him up to babysit a couple of brats. All for acquittances he barely cared about.

But you at least had the good grace to look guilty, "I didn't mean to! But she looked so tired and she said their anniversary was coming up and it's not like we got anything for their wedding-"

That was a nice try, one that Astarion wasn't falling for, "We didn't know of their existence when they got married darling. Just because I can't remember their names doesn't mean you can trick me."

"I'm not trying to trick you!" You whined, arms crossed as you pouted. It sure felt like a trick, especially when Astarion knew that you were well-aware how easily he fell for your sulking. Adorable little monster that you were, "It's only three kids and a baby for one night, it won't be that bad! You don't even have to help-"

Astarion rolled his eyes as he sat next to you on the bed, "I didn't say I wouldn't help."

That seemed to do the trick to get the pout off of your face. You perked up immediately, looking at him like you couldn't quite believe it, "Really?"

"Yes, really," Astarion sighed as you tugged you closer. Sure he liked to bitch, but he really would do anything for you. Even extremely annoying things like this, "I'm not going to sit back and feed you to the wolves."

"They're not wolves! The oldest is barely five," You laughed as you let him manhandle you, settling you into his lap, "And I am sorry, I really wasn't thinking. I promise it won't happen again."

Astarion doubted that, not when he was well-versed of your weak spot for children. No matter where you went you couldn't help but fawn over them, not to mention the insane lengths you would go to keep any child safe. It was a complete and utter blind spot, your kindness extending to them all, even the little scam artists and hellions.

It was sweet, if not extremely worrying at first. Astarion had been terrified of you finding out his past. The things that he had been forced to do, the innocents whose lives he had destroyed. But not only did you find out, you were forced to see it. Both of you were, and it had been worse than anything Astarion could have imagined. He had always found a slight comfort knowing that those he captured would at least die quickly, that at the very least they wouldn't suffer the same agonizing fate as he, just an agonizing death. But no, even that small comfort had been a lie. The horror of finding them all down there has yet to be matched. He had never felt more self-loathing, more pure disgust than the moment he had found those children, tortured and pale, all because of him.

How you didn't see him for the wretched thing he was after all that, Astarion wasn't sure. But he was grateful. You were too good for him. A fact that he was devastatingly aware of, but that wasn't going to stop him from keeping you.

He still thinks about it on occasion, despite the fact that he had done all he could to right his wrongs. They all at least had a chance now to have a life worth living, Astarion could only hope that it would be used. Their future was out of his hands now, a small comfort.

But despite his complicated feelings towards children, he was more than capable of handling them for one evening. And in all honesty, he truly didn't have to do much. He was on self-mandated baby duty, because of course you had to help out the infant that would scream bloody murder unless it was being held. Keeping her tucked against him was a move of self-preservation, if he ever wanted to retain his hearing.

Most of the night was spent amused as he watched you entertain a gaggle of toddlers. You were so... creative with the ways you could defuse their antics. It came to you so naturally, nearly like you were a born mother yourself. It wasn't exactly surprising that you were fantastic with children, he had seen it time and time again. Arabella, Mol, Yenna, all of which still wrote you letters, visited occasionally. Staying forever attached, even from a distance.

Now that Astarion thought about it, it was odd that you weren't a mother. Odder still that you hadn't never even brought up the possibility of having children together. You were usually so open with your wants and always encouraging the same from him. Just one more thing he loved about you. But... why hadn't it been mentioned? Astarion had always assumed it was because you didn't truly want any of your own, that you enjoyed their fun innocence while avoiding the more laborious responsibility of raising them.

Though watching you take care of them all, changing diapers and negotiating silly arguments with a soft smile of your face had him rethinking his assumption.

"You're good with them," Astarion said eventually after you had successfully set the older three down for the night, the baby still stubbornly clinging to him, "I don't think there's a child we've met that doesn't adore you."

You laughed quietly, walking over to kiss him softly on the cheek. Your eyes wandered to the sleeping infant in his arms, still holding a piece of his shirt in it's little fist, "You don't seem to be too bad with them either."

"Newborns don't know any better," Astarion dismissed as he tried to put her down in their borrowed crib. Tried and failed, considering how the thing immediately started to whine the second he attempted to pry it's little hand away.

Oh for fuck's sake. Astarion wasn't even going to try and argue. Instead he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall into the crib with her, seemingly doing the trick of stopping her from waking completely.

When he turned back you were staring at him with soft eyes, looking lovestruck at the simple act of him laying a child down, "Looks like she has pretty good taste to me."

"I don't think your judgment should be trusted," Astarion huffed as he walked over to you, grabbing your hand to drag you to the bedroom. He glanced back at you, his heart nearly skipping a beat from the sweet way you kept looking at him. It had his mind wandering again, those questions still nagging him.

Questions that he didn't have the courage to ask until dead of night, when he had you half asleep against his bare chest, "Have you ever thought of having children?"

He hadn't meant to blurt that out in the middle of the night, but Astarion apparently had a knack for starting important conversations at inconvenient times. Not that you minded.

You just cuddled into him closer, nodding against him with a sigh, "I've always wanted my own children. My own mother, Gods bless her soul, made it all sound so magical. Pregnancy, the early years, puberty, all of it. She loved it all. And I guess it rubbed off on me. It used to be all I could think about, before real life got in the way."

Astarion listened, a little annoyed at himself for not putting the pieces together sooner. You had talked so lovingly about your late parents, how you always wanted to be like your mother. Of course you would want children. How had he not connected the dots?

"But then I went off to the temple," You continued, "I completed my training, went off into the world to do good, blah, blah, blah. You know the story."

"So you grew out of the idea?" Astarion asked.

"Not exactly," You admitted, sounding a little guilty, "But I would never ask that of you love, it's not something you have to worry about."

That-what?

Astarion stared down at you, brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I know that the topic of children is... difficult for you. Considering everything you've been through-"

"I think you mean to say everything I've inflicted on others," Astarion interrupted, unwilling to allow himself grace. Especially when it came to the children of the Gur, "It was much worse for them than me."

You nodded, knowing better than to try and fight him on that particular topic, "I understand, but my point is that I can live without them. You're all I need."

It was comforting to hear, an immediate balm to a brand new set of insecurities that Astarion hadn't been prepared for. But even so... he hated the idea of you sacrificing even more for him. It felt wrong, "But-"

"But nothing," You interrupted softly, setting a quick kiss to his mouth, I'm serious Astarion, you don't need to worry. I'm happy, I love you, and everything is fine."

"I love you too," Astarion murmured, at a loss to say anything else. But the conversation didn't end there.

Astarion couldn't stop thinking about it, even long after the temporary children were sent back home. ou seemed so... sure that he didn't want children, and a week ago he probably would have agreed. But that was back before he knew that he was actively keeping you away from something you wanted. Something you had dreamed about since you were a child. And it felt wrong to be the reason for that, so, so wrong.

He didn't even know if his true feelings on the matter were real. He didn't want children for many of the same reasons he never wanted a partner. The attachment to another was dangerous, he was beyond unequipped to deal with others, let alone care for them, and the entire ideology behind love was ripe for manipulation and heart break. But then he met you and everything changed. Suddenly, caring for another didn't feel like a weakness, it felt like the strongest aspect of his entire self. Taking care of you wasn't an unwanted duty, it was intimacy. Something that he now craved. If all of those steadfast ideals could fall apart simply through meeting you, whose to say he could even trust himself when it came the thoughts around having a child?

Would having one truly be so bad? A little piece of the two of you, alive in the world? And perhaps children were annoying but... Astarion would be lying if he said he didn't have a soft spot for them. He had kept his distance before, but now he was fully confident that he wasn't a danger, no with Cazador burned to nothing bus ash and his own bloodlust well controlled. And it's not as if he was incapable of being a father, worse men than him did it everyday.

It was a confusing place to be, this tightwire of indecisiveness. Confusing enough for him to start a bit of research. He was vaguely aware that it was possible for his kind to breed, but finding out the details was disheartening, to say the least. First he had to parse out the different horror stories of babes eating their way out of their mother's wombs with actual facts, which wasn't exactly pleasant. But the truth was that it was more than possible for the two of you to have child together. It had the potential to either be as noneventful as any pregnancy, with the cavate that the babe coming out looking slightly... dead wouldn't be a permanent state of being. Or it could be as risky as carrying a child could be, with pains and complications galore, even legitimate worries of internal bleeding from the wretched thing prematurely growing claws. Not to mention the occasional, intense blood lust that could occur, an experience that Astarion would prefer you didn't have to go to.

Looking into the reality of the choice didn't help as much as he had assumed it would. If anything it just made the whole situation more real. Even if he wasn't a vampiric spawn, childbirth was risky. Maybe not as risky for you considering how Astarion would move the heavens and hells to get you the best care possible, but still. The thought of you passing, leaving him alone with the child you wanted and would never see, would destroy him. Completely and utterly.

But then again... there was the magical alternative of everything working out just fine. The two of you were both beyond lucky in that regard, considering how you'd overcome mind flayer parasites and fought and won against a near god. It was more than possible that everything would be fine, that you would have a beautiful pregnancy that would end in an even more amazing child. Then two would become three, a family of his very own.

That... didn't sound too bad. Astarion was torn. On one hand, he was almost certain that he was willing to go through with it. Not just because he loved you and wanted you to be happy, though it was the main reason. But also because... he could be a part in making something good. A child that would never suffer the way he did, the way countless others had. One who would be loved, who would have the help they needed for their inevitable unholy hungers. Someone precious for the two of you to fret over, to adore and care for. He... wanted that. Or at least he would if you still did. Now if he could just figure out how to bring it up, maybe something could actually happen.

But luckily enough for him, you did the job for him. He had been pouring over another book dedicated to recording the births of Dhampirs in the area, only to be distracted by you loudly sighing behind him.

"What's wrong love?" Astarion asked, his eyes still scanning the page in front of him.

"Oh I don't know," You sighed, rounding the corner to sit on the edge of his desk, "I just can't help but wonder when you're going to explain why you've suddenly become obsessed with parenting books. And..."

You trailed off, ignoring his surprised expression to read the cover of what was in front of him, "'Vampiric and Mortal Love & The Spawn They Create'. It's not exactly your usual reading material."

Part of Astarion wanted to be surprised that you had already figured him out. He had at least been trying to hide things from you slightly, not that it mattered when you could read him like a book. And he supposed that blatantly reading things like this in front of you would eventually have an effect, even if he tried to obscure the titles.

But that didn't stop him from stuttering through a response, "Well-I, okay. I've just been thinking about options lately. Which you can't really do if you don't understand what they are. Hence the books."

You frowned at him, one leg crossed over the other, "Star, I already told you that you don't need to worry-"

"But I want to worry," Astarion interrupted, deciding that ripping the band-aid off would be the best course of action, "And if there is something I can be doing to make you happier than I should at least consider it."

"I'm not going to force you into this for that," You said softly, reaching out to twine his fingers against yours, "This isn't the kind of thing you do just for someone else."

Astarion was aware of that, there was an important truth to your words. But... "What if it wasn't just for you?"

You paused, your brow furrowed as you stared at him, "What do you mean?"

"I mean what if, and consider this purely hypothetical, what if I wanted one as well. What then?" It was as far from hypothetical as Astarion could get, but by the look on your face it didn't seemed like that needed to be clarified.

You swallowed, looking just shy of hopeful as you played with his hand, "I... well. I guess in that case we would have a lot to talk about."

That wasn't quite the answer he was looking for. He pressed on, "So if in theory, I did want one. Would... you still be interested in having one?"

With me?

He left that part unsaid as he waited for an answer, uncharacteristically nervous as you mulled it over. But you were smiling, bright and wide, giving his hand a little squeeze as you spoke, "I think that would be the only scenario where I would want it. If that's something you wanted."

"I think it is," Astarion answered honestly, done with being coy, "I don't know how, I... I'm not quite sure how I feel about you carrying something that could be dangerous. But... in general yes. I think I want this. I do want this. With you and only you. Whenever your ready."

The next part Astarion did see coming, his arms already open by the time you launched yourself at him. You straddled his lap, kissing every part of his face as you babbled, "We can wait! It doesn't need to be now but-I just-yes! Adoption, childbirth, I don't care. All I need is to have them with you. That's all I want."

"And that I can give," Astarion laughed, delighted at your reaction. He still had concerns, plenty of them in fact, but they were hard to consider when the woman he adored was so ecstatic.

He gripped your chin, chuckling at the whine you let out for him interrupting your onslaught of affection. You didn't have to wait long, not when he directed your mouth against his, kissing you deeply as a new wave of exciting, and slightly nauseating feelings worked through him.

He didn't know exactly what was going to happen in the future. He had no idea if he would be a good father, but he knew that he would try his damndest. He didn't know how the two of you would even procure a child, but he did no one thing.

With you by his side, it would work out. All of it, no matter how hard the road turned out to be. And that was all that mattered.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Scared

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: ANGST, big feels, hurt comfort, possession?, hurling insults at each other, Astarion being a little scary, fluff ending

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

“How could you!” Astarion shouted.

“How could I? It’s a book Astarion, it's not that deep.” you said, rolling your eyes at him. “Knowledge is for all, not just you.” you snapped at him. 

“I’m not upset you read it, I’m upset you took it from me without asking.” he corrected you in a harsh tone. 

“I didn’t think it was a problem, you told me I could borrow books…” you looked at him with confusion.

“Not that one! The Necromancy of Thay is not just some book.” he looked at you with disbelief. How could you be so naive and reckless? 

“I’m a fucking cleric Astarion! Magic is kinda my whole purpose!” your dedication to Kelemvor was unquestionable and he was debating you about this? This book that could grant you a gift that Kelemvor had not? Speaking to the dead would be a godsend as clergy for the god of the dead, traveling across Faerun to gods know where. 

“Do you understand the danger of that book? No, you don’t, because you're a petulant child who steals others toys when they can’t have them. All you do is take!” he yelled.

You froze. That was a real insult. This wasn’t a little spat anymore, this was a fight. Your first fight in the whole 10 months together. Your heart cracked a bit, but you filled with fire at his harshness. 

“I take? I borrowed a book for a few hours. You literally take my fucking blood out of me daily. Do you know what that feels like over time? It hurts.” your voice wavered slightly but you held strong. 

“But you were oh so willing as long as I was fucking you while I did it!” that was dirty and untrue and he knew it. He said the most hateful thing he could think of and he knew it would cut you deeply.

Your eyes widened, your mouth hung open. “You think this is about sex?.... You conceited jackass! This is about me being in pain for weeks on end and you being too oblivious to see it. Maybe I am nothing more to you than dinner.” you laughed to yourself, the absolute arrogance of this man had you baffled. 

Astarion marched towards you, his face was unfamiliar. All scrunched up in a way you had never seen directed at you. His crimson eyes were practically glowing with rage. He pushed you back so you were trapped between the desk and his arms. He put his face near yours, he sounded like an animal. The growl in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Maybe I should drain you dry…” he nestled his face into the crook of your neck, fangs barely grazing your neck. 

You whimpered and tears flowed down your face. You were legitimately scared. Astarion always asked before he bit you. Yet here he was, threatening to drain you with his fangs at your throat. Your body shook and you let out a sob, trying desperately not to move as you knew his fangs could tear you apart. 

The sob was what cleared his mind. As soon as he heard it all the anger in him disappeared and he just felt sad. He had never seen you cry and the fact that you were now, because of him, it devoured him from inside. He backed up two paces, you flinched when he moved so quickly and it was like a shard of ice into his heart to know he scared you.

“Darling I… I’m sorry… I wasn’t going to… I didn’t mean to scare you” he said, holding his arms out in front of him, surrendering to you. 

You pushed yourself against the desk, desperate to be away from him. Your arms crossed your chest, holding yourself. “Please… don’t hurt me…” you mumbled. He saw the fear in your eyes. 

“I would never…” he said, his eyes were big and round and yet you were terrified. “Please my love, I don’t know what came over me…” he looked at his new ring, it was glowing a soft red.

You looked to where his eyes were, you immediately recognized the ring. The Circle of Malum. It brought out the wearers worst emotions, and turned them cold. Hostile; in exchange for great strength and cunning wisdom. “Take that off…” you pointed at his ring, still too afraid to touch him. 

“What?” he questioned, sounding defensive.

“The ring is changing you Astarion… You’re not yourself…please love…” you spoke out in a hushed tone, still nervous. 

Love. You still loved him? How strange he thought. He looked between you and the ring before flinging it off his finger. It felt as if it was burning him once he knew the truth of its devious exchange. “Little love… I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean anything I said… I was so angry I - I… I felt out of control.” 

You looked deep into his eyes. No malice, not a single hint of irritation. You saw fear and love, both of which were directed at you. You cautiously moved towards him, hands gently reaching for his face. You tilted his chin up, looking into his eyes. All you could see was the guilt on his face and the sorrow that was radiating off of him. “It's ok, you're ok.” you whispered.

He nodded before he pulled you into a hug. A few stray tears of his landed on your shoulder. You stayed like that for a while. 

“I love you…” he whispered with a small smile. 

You wiped the last of the tears from under his eyes before kissing his cheeks. You glanced down at his lips, his eyes watching you flit back and forth. He leaned in but you closed the space. Gentle, like he was afraid of breaking you. “I love you.” you leaned your forehead against his, breathing him in. 

“Were you able to finish the book?” he asked after a few moments.

You smiled at him, such a curious little thing he was. “Yes.” 

“And?” he said, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“And… Now I can speak to the dead.” you said, pride building in you. 

“Think you can help me read it?” he asked, taking your hand. 

You kissed him quickly, “I think I can manage that.”

He smiled, for what felt like the first time in days.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello all! I hope this is a good one for ya! Idk I was in my angsty sad girl hours and this was the product. Hope you are all doing well <3 As always, thank your for the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests! Talk soon XOXOXOXOXXOXOOXOXOOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXO!!!

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Hello! May I please request #5 “Flowers” from the prompt list? Thank you! :D

Ayyyyyyy one of my fave prompts from the list! Glad you requested it!!

Summary: You give Astarion a personally handmade flower crown

Each flower has its own unique meaning, though some meanings have been lost to time. Your mother’s voice teaching you the meaning of some flowers has long faded from your memory, a loss you mourn as you scour the markets for books on flowers and their meanings.

You know Astarion isn’t one for receiving flowers, but its not the flower you want him to hold dear to his heart, no, it’s the meaning of the flower that you want to imprint into his mind for all eternity.

By a stroke of luck, you find a book detailing the meaning and uses of certain flowers in Faerun hidden away in the corners of a merchant’s store. A quick purchase later and its now permanently in your hands, ready for perusing.

Astarion raises an eyebrow when he sees you sitting in your tent, engrossed in a book instead of sitting with the others around the campfire, unwinding after a long day of adventuring. The others don’t seem to mind the missing company, but this is most unusual behaviour from you so Astarion takes it upon himself to investigate this change.

“Hello darling, not in the mood for mingling tonight?” He smiles, closing the distance between the two of you. You shift over wordlessly, making space for him and he happily sits down, taking a look at the book you’re reading.

“I had no idea you were into flowers, I thought you were more into…clothes.”

“You thought wrong, then.” His favourite smile of yours graces your lips as amusement flashes across your face. “If however it were a book about clothes…I could be persuaded to be into clothes.”

Astarion can’t help but laugh at your attempt at a sly look and leans in to press a quick peck to your lips. “Leave that kind of talk to me, darling. You’re positively terrible at it.”

“At least I’m not negatively terrible at it.” You shoot back.

Astarion rolls his eyes, half immune to your type of jokes at this point and swipes the book from your lap, curious. You’re left hugging him from behind as he holds the book out of your reach, reading the page you’re on.

“Aren’t night orchids our resident cleric’s favourite flower?”

“Yes, they are.” You rest your chin on his shoulder, still clinging onto him.

“Night orchids are known to symbolise rarity, uniqueness, beauty and spirituality. Who knew her favourite flower represented her so well?” He remarks.

“They also represent someone else very well.” You mumble into his back sheepishly. Astarion hums in response, closing the book after placing a bookmark in it for you and turns to face you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Yes, Star?” You ask.

Astarion buries his face into your hair, letting out a soft breath that ruffles the strands on the top of your head, causing you to smile softly and reach upwards to run your fingers through his hair. A quiet purr rumbles in his throat as he leans into your touch, enjoying the attention you’re lavishing upon him instead of the book. You indulge him, knowing nights like this where you’re not needed by anyone else are few and far between. Astarion curls his fingers around yours, enjoying the way your hand neatly slots into his as if they were made for each other. Maybe they were, maybe you were always meant for him and vice versa. He quite likes that thought.

You play with a few strands of his silver hair, twirling them around a finger. “A flower wreath would look really nice on you.”

“Would it now?” Astarion would really rather you remain here until dawn breaks instead of going out to pick flowers, even if they are for him.

“It would. You will look really pretty with one sitting on your head like a crown.” You draw a ghostly circle around his head, mirroring where the flower wreath would sit before clapping your hands together. “That settles it! I’ll make you one!”

Astarion quickly moves to grab your arm, eyes wide as his mouth moves to convince you to stay, to not leave him yet. He’s ready to beg you to remain by his side for what remains of the night, afraid that someone might steal you away from him but you haven’t moved an inch from your spot.

“I still don’t know what flower to use,” you chuckle. “Guess I’ll have to stay here for the rest of the night, hope you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not, darling.” He swallows, shoving his embarrassment to the back of his mind. You lean against his chest, book tossed aside in favour of your lover and inhale his scent, blissfully snuggling against him. He holds you close, tracing patterns on your exposed skin until you fall asleep and he tucks you into your bedroll, pressing a kiss to your forehead and sneaks out of your tent, but not before wishing you a quiet goodnight that you’re far too deep in sleep to hear.

The matter of the flower crown gets pushed to the back of your mind and out of Astarion’s head in favour of more pressing matters as your party journeys on until you stumble upon the cave Shadowheart once lived in deep in the underground Sharran temple.

While the others search the cave for loot or lost childhood memories, a certain plant catches your eye — night orchids. You go about picking them, counting how many you would need for a flower crown that would fit Astarion’s head and are relieved to find there are sufficient night orchids in the cave for your endeavour. Stashing them safely in your pouch, you turn to gather the others and head off to the Sharran dorms for some much needed rest whilst letting Shadowheart take back as much of her lost memories as possible. She deserved that, at least, for all she’d been through.

You claim the bed closest to the back corner of the room and begin work, praying that you remember how to make a flower crown and fortunately, muscle memory saves the day as your fingers weave flower after flower into a circular shape. It’s not the best looking flower crown you’ve ever made, being out of practice, but it’s certainly passable. You turn the delicate object in your hands, checking it over before glancing upwards. Astarion was arguing with Wyll about the bottle of wine he definitely stole despite his claims of innocence and the others were enjoying the show, save for Gale who was cooking tonight’s dinner.

Slipping out of your bed, you sneak over to Astarion’s bed to deliver the goods before walking up to the group as if nothing happened, breaking up the fight that was escalating with the announcement of food.

When Astarion throws back the covers to lie down, he finds a flower crown sitting atop a book he remembers seeing you read before and stares at them, resisting the urge to throw the covers up again to remove the illusion. Surely he was hallucinating or something, no one would deign to personally handcraft something so beautiful and delicate just for him. Or maybe the giver had placed them on the wrong bed, any of the others maybe except for Lae’zel would appreciate such a gift.

“Do you like it?” Your voice sounds behind him. He turns around, nearly dropping the blanket on the flower crown.

“It’s for me?” He asks, confused.

“Yeah. It’s on your bed, is it not? Did I make a mistake?” You frown.

“No, you placed it on my bed.” Had you made the flower crown for him? Why did you spend such precious time and effort on him? The thing of beauty was wasted on someone like him, it would have been better off in the hands of anyone else, even Karlach despite her probably reducing it to cinders before it could properly rest on her head.

“That’s a relief. I thought I had the wrong bed for a moment,” you smile. “Well, goodnight then, Astarion.”

Before he can say anything, you’ve headed off to your bed, leaving him alone with his swirling thoughts. He gingerly picks the crown up, checking to see if anyone is paying him any mind before slipping out of the dorm and putting it on when he deems it safe enough to do so. His gaze falls upon a nearby mirror and sadness clouds his eyes when he realises he won’t be able to see how he looks like with the flower crown. His reflection will forever evade him, not even the tadpole could keep it from running away.

“You really do look pretty wearing it.”

“Why, thank you, darling.” Astarion smiles, taking a little bow. The action causes the flower crown to slip and when he straightens, it’s lopsided.

“Concentrate on the tadpole. I want to show you how you look with the flower crown on.”

Astarion blinks.

“Oh come on, don’t look at me like that. I hadn’t thought about using our tadpoles like this before until Gale pointed it out,” you huff. “I bet you haven’t thought about it either.”

“I —”

“Concentrate already.”

“As you wish, dearest.”

Astarion closes his eyes, concentrating on his tadpole’s connection with yours and when he opens his eyes, a pale silver haired elf stands before him, ruby red eyes piercing into his very soul. He really is pretty with the flower crown on, like you said. The dark blue colour of the night orchids stands in stark contrast against the silver of his hair, creating a halo of blue around his head.

When he next opens his eyes, he’s back in his own body, tears threatening to spill over.

“Thank you,” he manages to whisper, throat clogging up.

“You’re welcome,” you smile softly, reaching over to cup his cheeks. He closes the gap without hesitation, lips meeting yours in a dance of bliss and affection. The night lasts longer than usual, or maybe it was longer than a night but neither of you can tell from underground.

When Astarion heads back to his bed, he remembers the book that is still lying underneath its sheets — a book about flowers and their various meanings with a rather familiar bookmark sticking out of it. He flips to the marked page and the section is titled ‘Night Orchids’. At the end of the passage letters come together, forming a sentence that causes tears to cascade down his face.

Gift this sweet bloom to someone you believe is beautiful in their unique and special way.

[sataniquepanique]

Book Dragon

Summary: What I imagine is a common occurrence at camp with my Tav. She is a hoarder and frequently dumps inventory into the camp supplies and forgets which important objects she needs for quests. (This is dumb but I just needed to get it out of my head)

Pairing: Astarion x Tav (use of she/her)

Tags: fluff, established relationship.

The frantic crunching of gravel was the first indication that someone had arrived to their camp. Immediately upon hearing the rustling coming through the underbrush, Shadowheart rose from her kneeling meditation, hand braced on the dagger at her hip. From across the slowly-dimming fire pit, Lae’zel mirrored the cleric; double blades resting in her palms as her ochre eyes scanned the tree-line for the incoming threat.

The second indication came from the muffled voices beginning to carry through the forrest. There were at least two, neither of which were decipherable at this distance (Halsin’s snores emanating from his tent didn’t help the matter). 

The third indication was the sight of four familiar individuals bursting through the trees, the first two seemingly in a heated argument. Tav was strides ahead of Astarion, making a beeline to her tent next to Shadowheart. 

“All I’m saying is that—“

“—I know I have it somewhere, Astarion!” She threw open the tent flap and slammed both knees onto the shabby rug that lined the floor. Dumping out bag after bag of books, random stones, empty potion bottles, and a few stolen pieces of jewelry, she began to frantically tear through the contents in search of something. 

“Darling,” Astarion leaned against the frame of her tent, voice tense with the clear restraint he was exerting, “I’m sure if you had it, it would be in your pack. Maybe, if you didn’t hoard tomes and scrolls like some sort of…book dragon,” he flourished a hand for emphasis, “then you’d be able to keep track of your belongings more easily.”

“Maybe, if you helped me look and stopped running your pointy mouth for a moment, we’d be able to find it faster.”

Astarion’s face was expressionless and unreadable as he stared at her digging through a large chest, “Oh darling, please don’t be mean to me,” he drawled sarcastically, “you know how it turns me on.”

Tav’s head whipped around, eyes blazing as she stared at her lover (the thought of which still confused the rest of the party). She continued her ravenous search through the tent, tossing weapons and pillows all over the small area rugs as the other party members watched on, half in confusion and the other in exasperation. 

“What’s going on?” Shadowheart glanced uncertainly over at the scouting party, hand finally leaving the hilt of her dagger. 

Karlach shrugged, swaying to an imaginary beat that seemingly played on a constant loop in her head, “Tav needs a book—“

“—More like Tav trekked us through the wilderness for hours to find the Mystic’s tomb, only to double back through treacherous territory just to look for a bloody book, that she may or may not even have, based on a hunch!” Astarion threw out his hands in exclamation, dirt and blood shimmering along his face in the firelight. 

“—She needs the journal we found a few days ago in the temple. We think it may have the key to figuring out where the Mystic’s amulet is. If we get the amulet, we can end him for good,” Gale added valiantly. 

“You two think it’s the key,” Astarion drawled, motioning between the wizard and Tav, “I for one think we can just—“

“AH-HA!” Tav leapt up with a yell, holding a decrepit leather book in her upheld hand. “I knew I had picked it up, I guess I had stashed it in the communal trunk to make more room in my pack.”

Astarion rolled his garnet eyes, “Please enlighten us all on the vast wisdom scrawled haphazardly by this half-dead freak.”

Tav’s eyes sparkled in challenge as she held out the ancient book to him. 

“What do you want me to do with it?” He scoffed, eyes darting between her and the yellowed pages. 

Tav smiled sweetly, a terrifying gesture that caused Karlach to cringe slightly from a few feet away, “I just figured that if this was written by some ‘half-dead freak’, then it could only be deciphered by another ‘half-dead freak”.”

Astarion blinked in surprise, his aloof mask slipping momentarily by her remark. He narrowed his eyes as she smirked and clutched the book to her chest. 

“I think we should take the night to re-group and rest before setting out again tomorrow at first light. I’ll comb through the journal tonight and see what I can find,” She nodded confidently. 

Gale stepped closer to her side, “If you’d like company, I’d love to assist.”

Astarion stiffened, ceasing his casual leaning to stand upright. Before he could get a word out, Tav gave a soft smile and shook her head.

“I appreciate the offer Gale, but I’ll be able to focus better if I’m alone. Once I figure anything out I’ll let you know though.”

Astarion loosed a breath, watching as the wizard nodded and strode off to his own tent, hiding his defeat behind a cool mask. As the rest of the camp began to disperse, Astarion lingered at Tav’s tent, feigning interest in a loose thread hanging from his sleeve. 

“Goodnight, Star,” she shuffled in the dirt towards her bedroll, the events of the day finally catching up with her. Limbs feeling like a million pounds and eyelids full of sand, she reached to push the tent flap aside when she felt a cold grip on her other wrist. 

Astarion pulled her gently backwards, “Where are you going?” His voice was soft and filled with a lingering apprehension that tugged at Tav’s heartstrings. 

“To my tent? I have to dig through this book before we leave tomorrow…” 

Astarion noticed how bloodshot her eyes were; she was exhausted. 

“Let me,” he gingerly pried the book from her fingers. Tav looked at him in confusion.

“I’ll read through it tonight, you should sleep.”

“Star, you don’t have to,” she shook her head, “Let yourself rest—”

“Darling,” Astarion brought a hand up to cradle her cheek, “It’s not up for debate.”

Tav turned and kissed his palm. Breaking into a slow smile, Astarion tucked her into his side and began to lead over towards his tent. 

“Does this mean you’re not actually mad at me about dragging you back here prematurely?” She smirked.

Astarion scoffed. “Oh love, I’m incredibly annoyed,” he squeezed her tighter, “but unfortunately, I’m also quite fond of you and will follow anywhere you ask.” 

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts

CH.28 (Red Dragon)

I'm sure nothing will go wrong from here on out! :)

Okay, but she worked hard using illegal magic! She deserves this! I support women's rights, and women's wrongs.

Oh. Oh I see.

Is THAT what the kids are calling it these days...?

File that under 'foreshadowing I'm sure will come back to haunt us all later'.

Ah, yes. Tell your cleric girlfriend about your forbidden wizardry. Or don't. Actually. Maybe don't.

distract, discombobulate, overcome. Eyes up...there... Falin....

YOU DIDN'T ERASE IT YET???? MARCILLE, THE PLOT--!!

No bag of holding, huh? Well, I guess you'd need a bag of colding....

At this point, the fact that Chillchuck is still... well... chill? Is really shocking to me personally. He just takes it all in stride.

She did it for love, you guys! It's fine!

"My motives are noble! Anyway, if you ever tell a soul about this--"

uh oh.

Senshi, how could you not have known?!?!

Do we have to resurrect you too now?! Is Marcille's list of crimes going to just keep going up?

oh, apparently not. Why does SHE look surprised?

I guess when you create a body for your girlfriend using a dragon, which is inherently magical.... you kinda supercharge her?

Congrats on your easy bake oven! It's conveniently made of... meat?

So... it's philly steak sandwiches? From dragon?

I mean, what did you expect? She's Laios' sister... of course she'll eat it.

Also, come on Marcille. Several hours ago you were elbows deep in dragon gut, doing a 3D jigsaw puzzle with her digested bones. You can stomach this.

Just think of it as Falin being partially inside you................

I damn well told you. And look at Laios' smirk! He knew she'd be down.

Chilldadchuck is back at it again with the side eye.

He's not even impressed lmaooooo

B-but... but your little buddy! You would drown it just like that?! It hasn't even done anything malicious to you! It was just trying to survive!

..............Press X to doubt.

You know the uh. The contrast between that upper left panel and the bottom right is. Quite. Quite there. That's quite. Different.

ohohohoh Marcille what an unexpected turn of events! No way around it I'm afraid! Bed sharing is the only way.

This is the strongest display of emotion we've seen in Laios in a while. It's. really so telling. And what a good shot.

YOU DIDN'T FUCKING ERASE IT?!?!?!? HOW HARD COULD IT HAVE POSSIBLY BEEN--WHY-- NOOOOO!!!!!

[bonefall]

(dif anon) So is Ashfur grooming Shadowsight a plotline you would keep/rework in BB? I'm not so keen on the way canon used it to retcon his epilepsy, but I do think a plotline examining how clerics can be vulnerable to abuse from StarClan spirits is kinda compelling

Shadowsight's epilepsy is staying in BB, the Erins can try and take it away again over my dead body

Yes, that's staying and BB!StarClan was reworked with unfairness in mind.

This time around, I'm considering the idea that Ashfur didn't work completely alone. After the events of Squirrelflight’s Horror, Silverpelt's divisons are starting to crackle the stars.

Skystar and the other more traditional spirits are losing patience with the peace that Fire Alone brings, and the ways that the code has been bent.

They feel that honor is being lost in their descendants.

Even angels disrespect the collective; see how Skypelt has its own heaven? With a demon in its midst? There is blasphemy even in the skies.

Firestar and the more modern pantheon are ferociously defensive of the choices of the living. StarClan exists for them; not the other way around.

Meanwhile, Mousefur has gone missing. Others start to blink out, too. This is causing panic... and Ashfur keeps it quiet that he's the only one who knows where they've gone.

The angels that plan action probably were a small group to begin with, radical spirits. Skystar and Ashfur are two of them, and Ash is the "youngest." So when he comes down to the mortal plane and betrays them, very few other angels knew what had happened.

(I might even have a few angels be doing the various supernatural things in that first book, but slowly, Ashfur is wittling down their numbers until it's just him.)

I'm still working out specifics, but the other angels that Ashfur has consumed are giving him a massive power boost. He can use this to jump between planes freely, and he's able to do some whacky things like weave dreams and pull nightmares out of the Dark Forest.

The most important unique power he has, which he can do ALL on his own once he's absorbed enough starpower, is blast Shadowpaw with a bolt of lightning. The electric current runs through Shadowpaw's brand new scar, giving him a connection to StarClan like he's a little radio tower.

Thing is... when StarClan is blocked off, the only signal he receives is Ashfur's.

So, Shadowpaw.

From the time he was very young, Shadowkit has had an unhealthy relationship to life and death

He watched a lot of cats die before he was old enough to really understand it, and the only one who came back was Heartstar.

His epilepsy was so severe it would have been terminal. He was prepared to die as a kit.

Tawnypelt took him to the Tribe to learn more about treatments, bringing back a method of refining chamomile to manage the convulsions.

When people come back from death, it was to serve "a purpose."

He feels like he needs to be special, like he needs to find the great meaning in his life. The reason why he's still here.

In BB, there can be guardian angels. Cats you knew in life who decide to watch out for you in the afterlife. Moleflight is Jayfeather's, Shrewface is Squirrelflight’s. Ashfur poses as Shadowpaw's.

THAT is how I plan to address my criticism. Ashfur DOES build a very personal, trusting relationship with Shadowpaw, pretending to be the one who's here to give him the destiny he craves. Pretending like he's someone looking out for him.

I actually LIKE how desperate the situation was in-canon and I want to stress how none of this was Shadow's fault, so I also plan to keep that they had very little choice. Shadowpaw trusts his angel completely, and Ashfur coaches him on saying all the right things.

The older Clerics are suspicious, but... what else can they do?

Also, instead of framing this all as something Shadowpaw needs to "atone" for, I'm going to make certain cats unfairly scapegoat him for bringing the Impostor into the forest. Shadowpaw himself agrees with them, blaming himself, but he has to learn it wasn't his fault.

He DIDN'T let anyone down by failing to live up to great expectations, and there's no way he could have known that Ashfur was using him. This never happened before, he always made the choice he thought was right and tried to make up for harm done, and he's not responsible for what his abuser made him do.

I actually want to have him figure out some of this by talking to DF demons, towards the end. Cats faaaar more responsible for what they did in life than him.

Ravenwing in particular, who was also mislead by a rogue StarClan spirit, but... ultimately decided that if StarClan was right in their judgement.

He was told (by Birchface, but he still doesn't know who it was in particular) to make three kittens unsafe by revealing their parentage. His choice killed three innocent children, and lead to the Queen’s Rights.

And StarClan was furious that he'd ever believe they'd want something so CRUEL.

And even if they DID want something so cruel... "Then they wouldn't have been ancestors worth following. And that's why I believe it's right that I'm here."

As a Cleric, he had authority on their behalf. And if they would misuse it through him, he wishes he could have just given it right back.

And Shadowsight's lightbulb goes Ding!

The very last thing Ashfur does in TBC, when the jig is up and he's about to be killed by the Lights in the Mist and a bunch of Demons who have come to defend their home, is swallow a Founder-- Skystar.

He takes the level of a true god, and reaches a nearly undefeatable level of power. Instead of black water, he's so large, malicious, and has a gravitational pull so massive it starts destroying the afterlife. It shatters the purgatory (Meadow of Young Stars) into floating cosmic fragments, and Heaven and Hell are set to collide.

Shadowsight confronts Ashfur, politely explaining that he's, well... done a lot of thinking, and, he doesn't really want what he gave him. "You can, uh, have this back!"

And blasts the lightning from his scar right back at him, like a chain, holding the screeching eldrich horror in place. Every ally he's made, here in the DF, come down from StarClan, and as Lights in the Mist, jump to his side. They can't hold down Ashfur, but they can hold SHADOWSIGHT

While they're all supporting him, Bristlefrost sees the one chance to get rid of him, once and for all. A clear shot. She bolts, pounces, and SHOOTS right into Ashfur like a falling star, knocking them both off the edge of the heaven he destroyed, burning up in orbit with a monster a hundred times her size.

And after that, Shadowsight has to go home and live with this.

He gave up the very connection that made him so special, and now he has to go back to being a Cleric without StarClan.

but the other Clerics accept this. They have to. They were all complicit in the choices that allowed the Impostor to rise.

What Shadowsight learns is... everyone was part of this. From those who made the follies with him, to the supporters and rebels against the impostor, to those who helped him realize his worth, to Bristlefrost who ultimately killed Ashfur.

He is valuable because living is valuable.

Everyone, and everything, matters. All cats have a role to play, and he was never alone.

I want to close him out in BB!TBC on a tea scene that parallels the various points in his life. Others used to prepare his chamomile treatments FOR him, in careful doses, because it is a very serious medicine. Now, at the end, he's the one brewing it.

A fully fledged Cleric, who realizes he's never been alone. Cats who love him were around him the whole time, making his medicine, and they'll love him even after he's given up his powerful gift. So now he's at the stage in his life where HE can make that medicine, share his wisdom with others, and find fulfillment in the skills he's acquired over a hard life brightening.

[starfall-dream]

Okok hi, I had more thoughts regarding this AU and a little headcanon I had about our poor little friend Withers... and also the Gods in this au- but mostly Withers. (Since I've been playing around with him for my own yan BG3 isekai thing)

I feel like this might be very different from what you have in mind for the worldbuilding (as I remember you mentioning how this isn't the game at some point but I might be thinking wrong), but I thought this was on my mind, and just in case this might inspire something, I thought about saying it. So don't feel pressured to reply to this. It's just me getting my thoughts out there because why not and I wanna hear your thoughts too!

With Withers I've been playing around with the idea that, since in BG3 he is the one who let's us play around with classes, stats, reviving long lost party members, stuff like that I thought it would be pretty neat if he actually knew of other timelines or had some sort of magic that had some sort of ability tied to it for Withers to know/look into the knowledge of things like stats, classes, and possibly the fact that reader is from a whole other realm/world. Possibly even knowing the meanings for when they talk strange. He definitely lets on for more than he shows in the early game at least.

So in my AU I sorta lean into that and have Withers and the reader character get really close as friends because, "at least someone has a sense of what is going on and can explain in a way that I can understand". Probably has to explain that they're a human fighter or a ranger (especially later on when characters like Wyll get way more protective, he might start trying to move them away from the front lines at some point. Even if he taught us swordfighting it's still 'too dangerous' for his darling out there so they gotta pick up being a ranger to even think about contributing to the combat)

That actually leads me to my second batch of thoughts! Reader's class. I know you said they were leaning towards a fighter class but as I said before I feel like soon enough archery or being a ranger might be more viable, or if they get the attention of a god they might just get cleric (not as plausible as ranger but one can assume). The thought of them playfully or jokingly making an oath and becoming a Paladin is also funny but just as impossible. Still, always fun to play around with, especially since clerics in general sometimes don't even get a say in becoming a cleric, poor reader might just suddenly become the cleric to someone like Sune who even covers more darker aspects of romance (as a god of romance)... at least from what I've read off her Forgotten Realms wiki page. For all we know, someone might just "you're my cleric now, we're getting soft tacos later" the poor reader and they'd have no say in it.

The possibilities could be endless!

Honestly I love withers, he's great.

In my head, reader technically doesn't have a class, they just fall into fighter since it would make the most sense in my head. I didn't even think about ranger though, even though that was the first class I played as. I feel like they would be a mixture of any class that doesn't use magic, since they really can't.

I think since withers has more of an understanding of things, reader and him and a nice relationship. I think reader just confides in him about a lot of things and he offers very wordy and lengthy advice. It's like a grandpa and grandchild relationship.

[luna-the-cretar]

First impressions of EOM (after finishing episode 1)

Story thus far: ?????? How can I verbally express how much I love it so far????? The train???? The mystique????? The conductor (who may or may not also be the narrator)????? The fucking MOON???? I just. I can’t verbally express how much this campaign already has me hooked. This campaign got me hooked faster than Icebound did, and I thought that Icebound hooked me pretty quickly (since I was all on board for Icebound by the end of Ep 1). But EOM? I was on board (heh) by the time the train first appeared to collect Jericho. Oooohhhh I’m so intrigued.

Jericho: I love him. He’s, admittedly, the character I knew the most about going into EOM, and I still knew next to nothing about him. I just knew that he was a living scarecrow and I knew about Virgil. I did NOT know about the demon, holy fuck. I’m curious. Also…he’s just so…I wanna hug him. So much. Poor guy deserves it. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, I think it was inevitable I’d immediately fall in love with him. I mean, the first clue should’ve been that I immediately fell in love with Torbek (to the point where he literally got me into LOA in the first place), who is also a sad character with…oof. Iykyk. But also Jericho was, admittedly, the main reason why I finally decided on EOM as I was done catching up with Icebound. With the mixture of the couple of EOM shorts I’ve seen revolving around Jericho in some way, the bunch of Jericho fanart I’ve seen on here, and the Jericho song they revealed during the anniversary stream? Yeah…it was inevitable. Idk why I’m even surprised (actually, I think I’m mostly shocked that I fell in love with him the moment he started speaking)

Lethica: when Andy said during their BG3 gameplay on the stream on Saturday, that he was surprised that Lethica and Shadowheart’s stories were eerily similar, with Mace then asking if Shart was a cleric of Shar, I didn’t even begin to wonder as to WHY Mace even thought that. I was just shocked that he was right on the money for Shart. Then comes my absolute bamboozlement when reading Lethica’s card, seeing that she was ALSO a cleric of Shar, that suddenly Mace’s question and Andy’s comment made sense. Character-wise, she’s interesting so far. I love that she was immediately just. Very kind to Jericho. I’m interested to see where her character goes.

Marius, Briggsy, and Farryn: don’t have much to talk about either of these characters so far, so I’m combining them. Like Lethica, I weirdly love the fact that he was immediately very warm to Jericho upon meeting him. Also that he’s a very…hopeful person? It’s hard to say what I’m trying to get here, I’m just intrigued by his standpoint, and his relation to Lathander. All I really knew about Marius before going into EOM was his ship with Lethica, and I find it kinda funny that it’s—quite literally—Light x Darkness, just because of their respective gods. Very fun. I like Briggsy’s personality so far. And also, if I had a nickel for every time Richie played a lizardfolk warlock with some relation to death, well…I’d have 2 nickels. That I know of, anyway. And Farryn…I’m sorry but I didn’t even know you existed until I saw you paired against Gideon in the “which is gayer” LOA polls that’s going around. You’re cool so far tho. Like the accent.

Tl:dr: the story has me hooked, I will die for Jericho if he asked (tho he probably wouldn’t bc he’s such a sweetheart), Lethica is really cool so far, and the others are there too, I guess.

[novankenn]

Panic to Relief to Panic

A snippet from "a Mafia" AU

"Find her!" Athena Nikos screamed at top of her lungs as her entourage "For fuck's sake find her!"

"We're trying Mistress Nikos, but her scroll is not on, and all our contacts are just saying, she's... around."

"What the fuck does that mean!" Athena raged, grabbing her empty glass tumbler and shattering it against the wall. "Find her before Prismeya unleashed those cursed Sisters of Mercy... or worse!"

Her small entourage of five all froze. The Sisters of Mercy were the stuff of legend. Fast, brutally efficient, and rumored to be fanatically in their service of the Arc family. It was said when Prismeya "retired" the Sister vanished, in to thin air.

Of course everyone knew what the "worse" statement, or rather who it referred to. The Cleric. If the Sisters were legendary, the Cleric was mythical. He or she didn't take contracts, she was given contracts... contracts that of were on entire organizations. Pledge breakers, those that dealt in the anathemas of the families. She or he was sent in when to remove a problem would be to spark a full out gang war.

While it was doubtful the Cleric would even take a contract featuring a single target... the threat still remained, and even if she was out... Prismeya still had sway and clout. Hence the "meeting" a couple of days ago.

"What were you thinking Pyrrha!" Athena screamed in anger and desperation while shattering a second glass against the wall. "I'm going to tan your hide when I get my hands on you!"

"Mistress?" a shaking voice young woman with red streaked hair, addressed her superior, the head of the Nikos family.

"What?" Athena snarled.

"I have a call for you. Private line, she says she has information about your wayward daughter."

"Did they give their name?" Athena asked as tried to calm herself, as she shakenly reached for the offered scroll.

"No, mistress." the young woman, informed her. "She just said wayward daughters complicate things... in interesting ways."

"What the fuck?" Athena swore before, taking the scroll and holding it up to her ear. "Athena Nikos here. Who the fuck is this."

"Such hostile language for an old friend." came the soft voice. "Especially considering I've got news about your baby girl, juicy news."

"Kali?" Athena choked down her anger. "So what has my daughter done, to make this situation worse?"

"Yes, Athena, it is me... and do you have Prismeya's contact information?"

"I have a way to reach out to her, but why?"

"Well, the info about my daughter was correct, she's actually working at Pumpkin Pete's"

"You daughter is working a retail job at the gods awful store?"

"Yes, and she apparently has a girlfriend..."

"That's nice and all Kali, but what does..."

"Well from a source, a reputable source, Jaune and Pyrrha are the Arc and Nikos... couple."

Her scroll fell from slack fingers, followed shortly by the entire body of Athena Nikos.

"Mistress!!!" came a course of shouts, "Get her on the bed, and call a doctor!"

Kalil heard it all through the still active call. The shuffle of feet, someone yelling into a scroll. It was almost two minutes before someone picked up the scroll.

"Miss are you still there?" the very timid voice asked.

"I am my dear. Please let Athena know she can call me when she feels better."

"Of course Miss."

The call then ended.

(A/N - FYI... if you want to jump to the master list to catch up on any posts to do with this series... every title is a link to it.)

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Click My Heels But I Am Stuck Here - Epilogue

Pairing: Rolan x Tav

Work Summary:

Rolan is battered, beaten and exhausted. After everything he’s been through to get to Baldur’s Gate, he still has no reprieve from violence and prejudice.

But wouldn’t it just be so sweet to fuck his master’s pretty little wife?

AU where Tav is Lorroakan’s wife.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Epilogue

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1652

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist info

Previous Chapter

Notes: It's been a wild ride folks. Hope you enjoyed :) I have a whole queue of fics that I've been neglecting to focus on this one, so it might be a little while before I write Rolan x Tav again, but I do have plans for the future, and perhaps I could be persuaded to expedite them <3

---

Two Years Later

Tav’s boots were muddy, but she could see Baldur’s Gate in the distance. She was bone-tired, and on any other day, she would concede to Jaheira’s suggestion that they should make camp for the night and continue their journey tomorrow morning.

But she needed to see Rolan. It had been almost two months since she’d last seen him, and the distance was starting to ache in her chest. More than that, she had something important to tell him.

Lia and Geraldus were both on board, so they left their fellow Harpers in a clearing in the woods and began the five-mile trek home. Jaheira had pursed her lips, but not argued. This last stretch of road was very safe, and the three of them were well-armed in any case.

“Are you sure you’re alright to keep walking?” asked Lia, looking at Tav anxiously. Her eyes darted to Tav’s stomach, which was covered by armour, so she wouldn’t have been able to see anything even if there was anything to see.

She hadn’t actually told Lia anything, but her sister-in-law could be annoyingly perceptive when she wanted to be. These last few days of travel had been slow going, because Tav had been ill.

At the last town they’d passed through, she had gone for a private appointment with a cleric, and emerged with more than just potions for her nausea. She was sure that Lia had probably figured it out then, if she hadn’t already.

“I’m fine,” said Tav. “I just want to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“Me too,” said Geraldus.

“Cal’s bed, you mean,” said Lia, poking him in the arm.

“Hush, you.” In the early stages of their relationship, Geraldus probably would’ve chuckled and blushed at the gentle ribbing from his boyfriend’s sister, but they’d been together for almost a year and a half now, and he’d also spent almost as much time with Lia as he had with Cal at this point.

When Tav and Lia had initially joined the Harpers, Cal had briefly considered joining too, but decided the adventurer’s life was not for him. He would much rather help Rolan tend Sorcerous Sundries and stay in the relative safety of Baldur’s Gate.

Privately, Tav knew that he was also staying to make sure Rolan wasn’t alone. She was glad. She would never have been able to go on such long missions if she knew that Rolan didn’t have anyone watching over him and making sure he was eating.

“Excited to get home to your husband?” Geraldus asked her.

She gave him a weak smile. Three years ago, the question would’ve made her blanche. But Rolan was not Lorroakan. The plan gold wedding band he’d given her didn’t weigh her down like the gaudy thing that she’d had from Lorroakan.

Still, she hadn’t expected marriage to feel so natural this time around. She hadn’t expected to want it, no matter how much she loved Rolan.

But about six months ago, it had come up in conversation, and she realised that marrying him didn’t terrify her the way she’d thought it would. In fact, the idea of calling him her husband was very appealing.

Within a month, they were married. It was a small ceremony with just their closest friends, and his siblings. Afterwards, they’d all had a very merry evening at the Elfsong Tavern. It was perfect.

“I’m hoping he’ll help me with my hair,” she said, lightly touching her braid. “All these weeks on the road haven’t been good for it. And Rolan gives excellent head-”

“I don’t want to hear about that!” Lia interrupted.

“Head massages! Don’t be crass!”

The three of them descended into laughter. It made the long walk a little easier.

It was past midnight by the time they made it to Ramazith’s tower. All three of them were excluded from the extensive wards that kept the tower safe, so they walked in with little fanfare.

The lights were on in the kitchen. That was where the three of them found Cal and Rolan, playing some kind of intricate card game. Myshka was curled up on Rolan’s lap, but as soon as he saw Tav, he leapt into her arms.

“MERMER!” he cried, nuzzling into her neck immediately. She had cast Speak with Animals in preparation for this very moment.

“Hi there, baby,” she murmured, scratching under his chin. Suddenly, she was being lifted off her feet. Myshka was sandwiched between her chest and Rolan’s as he embraced them both.

“Tav…” Rolan sounded breathlessly exhilarated. “I didn’t know you would be home tonight…”

“But you stayed up anyway,” she said as he set her back on her feet.

“Well, I did hope.”

“He stayed up last night too,” Cal chimed in from where he was entangled in Geraldus’ embrace.

“Shut up, Cal.”

“I suppose neither of my brothers are all that happy to see me. The perils of being a fifth wheel,” said Lia pointedly, walking over to the stove.

There was a pot of soup that was slowly simmering. She grabbed herself a bowl and began to spoon soup into it, but almost spilled it all over herself when Cal hugged her from behind.

“I missed you too, Lia,” he said.

Looking a little chastened, Rolan released Tav to go and embrace his sister as well.

“How was your trip?” Cal asked cheerfully.

“Long,” said Tav. “I really need a bath.” She tugged her braid loose from its tie, letting her tangled hair cascade over her shoulders.

“I’m sure I can manage that,” said Rolan.

“Cal, Geraldus,” said Lia suddenly. “Will you help me with my bags? I left some stuff downstairs that needs bringing up.

“What bags?” asked Geraldus, confused, but she elbowed him in the ribs. “Right, of course, let’s go.”

And then Tav and Rolan were alone. Tav was sure there were no bags to be brought up. Lia was just giving them an excuse to be alone.

Rolan put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arms’ length as he surveyed her.

“You’re looking well,” he said. “Lots of colour in your cheeks. That’s good to see. Being a Harper is good for you, as much as I hate to be away from you.”

She knew that he was downplaying his own feelings. Cal had once told her that her long absences were hard on Rolan. He feared for her safety, and he missed her deeply.

He would never tell her the full extent of his feelings though. He didn’t want to pressure her into putting his needs over her own.

“I never want to be away for that long again,” she said, and it was true.

She loved the thrill of adventure, but the tower was her home. Gone were the traces of Lorroakan that had haunted the place. With a combination of magic and interior design, they had made this place into a home for themselves.

“And I doubt I’ll be leaving Baldur’s Gate again any time soon. I’m going to be taking a little bit of a leave of absence, from fieldwork at least. With the resources we have at our disposal here, I can still make a difference without putting myself on the frontline.”

Rolan swallowed. “Really?” There was a quiet, but obvious spark of hope in his tone. “Tired of adventuring already?”

“Well, it’s more that I think it’s probably too dangerous for me right now, in my condition.”

“Condition?” he asked, drawing his eyebrows together in confusion.

She took his hand and guided it to her belly. In the last leg of the journey, she’d removed some of her armour, leaving her in a loose-fitting tunic. His eyes widened as understanding dawned on his face.

“You’re- We’re-” he stammered, disbelieving.

“Pregnant? Yes.”

“Gods, Tav.” He dropped to his knees and pressed his face into her clothed stomach. She put her arms around him, a laugh bubbling up in her chest.

“Are you…” A hint of nervousness entered her tone. “Happy to hear that?”

“I’m elated,” he said. “Are you?”

“I never thought I would want this,” she said. “I vowed to never give Lorroakan a child, so I thought that was it for me. But I want this with you. I want to have your child.”

“Tav…” Tears were rolling down Rolan’s cheeks. He pressed a kiss to her stomach. “I love you so much.

“I love you too.” She smoothed her fingers into his hair, loosening it from the hair tie that was holding it in place. He didn’t protest, still pressing his face against her.

That was how Cal, Lia and Geraldus found them a few minutes later, with him still on his knees, holding her. Lia let out an excited yelp as she took in the scene.

Rolan got to his feet quickly, embarrassed. “Should we tell them?” he whispered to Tav.

“I think Lia already knows. So I think it’s only fair.”

“Alright.” He nodded.

“We’re having a baby,” she said, and Cal almost knocked her off her feet as he pulled her into a hug.  

“I knew it,” she hear Lia shriek, and chuckled into the material of Cal’s shirt. Rolan was hovering behind her, a protective hand on her lower back. As soon as Cal moved out of the way, Lia took his place, throwing her arms around Tav’s neck. “I’m so happy for you two.” She pulled back and held Tav’s face in her hands. “You’re brilliant, you know that? Your kid is going to be a superstar.”

“Our kid is going to have the best aunt and uncles in the world,” said Tav.

Lia turned to Rolan. “You’d better get to work, the mother of your unborn child wants a bath.”

“With rose petals,” Tav supplied.

“She wants rose petals,” said Lia, helpfully.

“I suppose I better get on that,” said Rolan, kissing Tav’s temple. “Anything for you.”

---

Notes:

fic title is from Black Ink Revenge by Automatic Loveletter

"Don't you let 'em know you're dying, dying Dying to break out Dying to get, get, get out Through the window of the upstairs Click my heels but I am stuck here"

[jezabelle9299]

Nightmare Cure S.R x Reader

Authors Notes: Exceedingly long rambles of a person with too much time on their hands. 2.5k words, reader does clerical work in the building, fluff, some angst, mentions of nightmares, loss of a parent (father) as a teenager, reader with hair long enough to braid, and Spencer with hair long enough to pull back (Jesus Reid save me), kind of mentions when he was carrying around hair ties all the time. Mutual pining, idiots in love, all that good stuff.

Working in the FBI building was interesting to say the least. You did clerical work, as far from the danger as possible, and that was how you liked it. Working on the same floor as the BAU, sometimes you got to chat when they were in the office. You liked all of them but you definitely had a favorite, Dr. Spencer Reid. You talked to him the most, and perhaps also pined for him in a totally casual, not at all weird way that you would never speak of, especially not to your lovely, and also very nosey coworkers. Something was different with him though. The dark circles around his eyes were larger, he was walking past your desk to get to the coffee maker far more frequently, and he just had this sullen look about him that made your heart break. 

One afternoon, when most of the others in the office had left early before the holiday weekend, you followed him to the kitchen as he passed your desk. 

“Spencer?”

“Hey. What’s up?’ He looked to you while blindly piling sugar into his coffee mug. 

“I was just wondering, are you ok? I mean as much as you can be?”

He was nervous and you worried you said the wrong thing, making things worse. Maybe he didn’t think you guys were that close? Before you could spiral, or make an attempt to retract your questions he sets down the sugar and clears his throat.

 “Oh-uh I’m ok, just trouble sleeping you know? Can’t really relax at night.”You knew he was talking about nightmares. They were common with the field agents, but no one ever talked about them openly. You’d had your share, although yours didn’t come from the job. 

“Oh. I had similar problems once, i-if you want I could kind of show you my routine that helped? I have a guest bedroom if you wanted to try. Only if you’re comfortable, of course.”

“That sounds nice, thank you y/n, really.” He was certain that anything that had helped you wouldn’t help him. If he couldn’t fall asleep in his own bed, a new place wouldn’t help. But he pined for you as you did for him, so he wasn’t going to turn down a chance to spend more time with you, especially at your house. He wanted to know everything about you, and he appreciated that you wanted to help him in the first place. 

Ok! If you want to come to my house at like 6:30, I’ll cook?”

“ I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He had a faint blush and you really hoped it was a good blush, not a scared one. He was so cute. You’d just finished your paperwork, and it was already 5 o’clock so you had to get ready. 

You stopped by the store to get the supplies for dinner, you really hoped he liked it. It was almost 6 by the time you put everything away so you cleaned up as much as possible, putting fresh sheets on the bed in the spare room and getting out everything that brought you comfort during your bout of nightmares. Yours came from the death of your father, that happened soon after the death of many of your grandparents. You couldn’t imagine his nightmares, with the things that he saw everyday, but you hoped these things would help him, at least a little bit. Soft blankets, lavender candies, and a candle you thought he might like, all stacked neatly on a chair in the corner of the room. The candle was supposed to smell like old books, and you’d light it soon, that way it’d already fill the room by the time he arrived. 

6 o’clock came and went so you started cooking, setting the table while everything got started. 6:30 on the dot his car pulled up in the driveway, and out came dr.Reid, with an overnight bag and-oh my god. He brought flowers, more specifically he brought your favorite flowers, even though you had never told him. You checked on dinner as he walked up the drive so that you wouldn’t forget as soon as you saw him. 

You opened the door and he just stared for a second. “Uh-sorry-hi, you look nice”

You were wearing a dress, but this one was much more casual, and with gym shoes instead of the heels you typically wore to the office since you were still buzzing around the kitchen. Because of the messiness of what you were cooking you had an apron tied around your waist. He was still dressed in his 3-piece suit he wore to the office today. 

“Oh, thank you, you do too-but I hope you brought something more comfortable in that bag.” When he looked back down at his back he remembered the flowers he was still holding.

These are for you! -You know as a thank you, for helping me. I asked Garcia for your favorite, I hope you like them.” He awkwardly grabbed them so he could hold them out to you, and you stifled a giggle at his flustered attempt to hand them to you as you accepted them. You started to turn as you opened the door wider, welcoming him in. 

“They’re perfect, thank you, Spencer. And please come in, the guest bedroom is the second on the left if you want to set your stuff down while I put these in some water and finish up dinner?” He gave a quick nod and a tight smile as he started down the hall, while you buzzed through the kitchen, first finishing seasoning the food, and then putting the flowers he got you in water. You still couldn’t believe he got you flowers. 

When he came back through the hall you discard the apron on its usual hook, and set the food on the table. As you eat you make small talk about your days, until he changes the subject. “You mentioned earlier you had the same problem, what was causing your nightmares?” Instantly you became uncomfortable, you were really hoping he wouldn’t ask, although you should’ve known better.

“Ah, Dr.Reid the profiler, I should have guessed you’d ask.” You made an attempt to laugh it off, but he only focused on you more. You cleared your throat, ready to get this over with. 

“When I was 17, a few days before my 18th birthday my father died. Heart attack, totally unexpected. It took a while for the nightmares to start, but once they did it took a long time to get rid of them. That’s why I developed this whole elaborate routine, anyway. They were mostly you know existential everyone I’ve ever loved will be ripped away from me without a chance to say goodbye kind of stuff. Super fun I know.” You made another attempt at laughing off the discussion and this time he got the message. He gave you a reassuring smile, and changed the subject. 

“What comes next in the amazing Y/N goodnight routine?” He got up from the table and ever the gentleman, he offered a hand to you to help you up from your seat. You got your excitement back instantly, beaming up at him, ready to get to the next thing, your favorite part.

“Oh get ready, it’s movie time!” He looked relieved at your smile coming back as you did a little wiggle, as though you just couldn’t contain your happiness anymore.

“Yeah? What are we watching?” He barely got out through his little laughs. It wasn’t a full laugh, but more of a shaky exhale he smiled all the way through. 

“Well when I started I watched Say Anything on a near repeat- but this is your night so I picked something I hope you’ll like. To get the full effect though these outfits aren’t going to work at all. Go get into your pajamas, and I’ll grab the movie.” You quickly cleared the dishes into the sink first, and then bounced down the hallway to your room with Spencer laughing as he trailed behind you. It felt so domestic, and if this was what it was like to be in a relationship with him, any girl he dated would be the luckiest girl in the world. 

You threw on a t-shirt and some striped pajama shorts, then went to your bookshelf and grabbed the dvd you thought he’d most like. When you were walking back to the living room, you set the dvd down on a small table lining the hall. You attempted to stop in the bathroom to grab a hair tie, but when you walked in Spencer was already standing at the sink. 

“Oh-Sorry!” You started stammering, even though he wasn’t doing anything. Just standing at the mirror, with his glasses on the sink trying to get out his contacts. 

“Oh it’s ok, I just wanted to get my contacts out before we started. I know it freaks some people out. It’s Ommetaphobia, fear of things touching the eyes. It’s pretty common and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No-I don’t mind, I just needed to grab a hair tie, I didn’t mean to get in your space.” You reached past him to grab two from the counter next to his glasses and then quickly put them on your wrist and separated your hair. He watched you in the mirror as you started to braid, until you finished the first one. You let yourself take in what he was wearing, a blue star trek t-shirt, and some black doctor who pajama pants. They were so wonderfully him. As you tied it off the braid, his eyes snapped back to his own in the mirror and he quickly swapped his contacts for glasses, looking away from the mirror as he removed them, as he wasn’t completely sure that it wouldn’t bother you. As you tied off the second braid your eyes followed him in the mirror. He had his glasses on, a look you loved but hardly ever saw. 

He looked back at you and smiled, before turning back and grabbing a hair tie from his own wrist and in possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, pulled his own hair back, into a small ponytail as he walked back into the hall.

When you made your way back to the living room Spencer was already there, looking at all of your books like they were the most interesting thing in the world. When he looked back at you, you made a big show of holding up the dvd. It was called Forbidden Planet, it was sci-fi and even if it was extremely old and the effects were outdated you hoped he liked it. His face lit up as soon as he saw it, and you knew you made the right choice. 

“That was my favorite movie when I was a kid-I’d watch it all the time, How did you-? It’s almost impossible to find.” Tears were welling up in his eyes and your heart broke. He was going home with that dvd. You wanted to tell him how you thought of him, and hold him, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Not tonight, this was about him. You settled for a “I hoped you’d like it” and a gesture for him to sit while you set it up. 

While you watched the movie he told you everything, and if he was anyone else you’d think he couldn’t possibly be paying attention at the same time. He told you about how it was made, how it affected the sci-fi genre, and every other fun fact he could think of. You were happy to listen. When the credits rolled the clock on your phone read 10pm-a little early, but you knew he needed the sleep.

“Party’s over doctor, it’s time to get ready for bed.” He gave an overdramatic pout, but got up. You stood together while brushing your teeth, only having one bathroom forcing domestic bliss. You continued talking to him while you turned off lights and made sure the door was locked.

 “I swear if you need anything let me know, my door is literally always open, I can’t sleep with it closed.” You turned away from the hall, away from the bedroom he was standing in as he put his work phone on the charger from his bag. You put on a record of classical piano quietly to help you both sleep as you remembered the pile of stuff for him on the chair. “I almost forgot- on that chair in the corner, there’s some stuff for you if you want it- if you’re still having trouble I mean, the lavender is supposed to help you sleep. I read this thing that said it produces these chemical compounds that act essentially as sedatives, figured it was worth a try. 

He knew. He already read articles on different theories for helping insomniacs sleep. But something about how you said it, how you set things out you thought he’d like, how you took care of him. It was too much for him. He was glad you weren’t in there, that you couldn’t see him. He didn’t want you to see him cry, and if you looked at him with that sweet smile, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from asking for what he really wanted. He wanted to tell you how he felt, to tell you what this meant to him, to hold you while you slept.

But you were too good. Too sweet. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, he knew even if he overstepped you were too nice to tell him, especially at this hour. You had a tendency to do that- putting others before yourself to ungodly degrees, and he wanted you to feel more comfortable than that. In the morning he would tell you. When you could ask him to leave without sending him away in the dark, because he was sure that you wouldn’t like someone like him. You were perfect. 

But tonight was enough. He got to see what it was like, if he had been someone you loved. You both said a quick goodnight, with a promise to see each other in the morning. For the first night in months he slept peacefully. Maybe all the ritual and routine helped, but it was mostly just you. You cared, and he got to have you as the last face he saw at night. He got to fall asleep in a bed that smelled like you, with your books on the walls and your music playing, and it was perfect. He loved you, and he just had to get up the courage to say it. 

That was the first of many nights Spencer stayed with you, and the last one he slept in the guest bedroom. He still had nightmares- sometimes, but you were always there to comfort him with a reassuring touch. Most nights he had dreams, and he dreamt about you the most. 

[bl3ss3dbyt1amat]

misc bg3 companion hc

this is so much. i have no idea and im also sorry. all of the origin companions included under the cut

astarion:

i feel like he claps funny. like hes clapping but its that specific way thats meant to be like quieter? like clapping on the palm of his hand. this might be projection but i feel like hes also the type of person to do like a little clap or a spin or his trademark ridiculous giggle whenever hes happy.

i think that hes prone to dramatics like. like pretending to fall on the floor and die if you say hes actually not on your mind 24/7. oh whats that? you dont think im the prettiest princess in the entire world? well astarion has dramatically fallen to the floor

in the early game astarion most definitely practiced his lines loudly and publicly (in camp). he cant even see himself in the mirror but hes trying to look all suave and being like "shall i compare thee to a summers night" while lae'zel and shadowheart both shout "NO" from across the camp. (can be interpreted as bloodiedblade/wyllstarion but i think wyll would be amused and even finish the quote).

wyll:

this man is probably good with basic medicines and ill die on this hill. hes got aloe vera type shit on him at all times. sure, hes not a cleric or healer or even a bard, but he'll stay with you and try his damned best to cheer you up when youre hurt or sick.

on a related note i feel like wyll would be absolutely DELIGHTED by a bard tav. he would just be so amused and filled with whimsy. never gonna complain about playing, even if its like 2am. just occasionally putting in song requests. hes so incredibly enthusiastic like spinning tav around like "THAT WAS BRILLIANT!!!"

wyll probably keeps houseplants. (minor blazingblade but i feel like karlach would accidentally kill one of the plants and actually begin weeping. once she gets her engine fixed wyll tries to teach her how to garden. this goes weirdly) furthermore i think he like goes around his house like humming merrily and watering his plants and crap

gale:

i dont think hes coordinated at all. like this man is tripping down the stairs on a daily basis. he is dropping his tea, his book, his body, ect. to the point that hes got a habit of just hugging the railing for dear life every time he has to go down a staircase. this made traversing shit like the underdark actually literally horrible. every time he falls karlach is so overly concerned and probably offers to carry him. astarion, to everyones dismay, dies laughing each and every time

pretty sure wyll and shadowheart have a conversation about weird book porn. i am here to say that gale was holding back his power while that conversation happened. gale has read so much book porn and if you knew the real scale of it you would be concerned. tara is concerned at least.

shadowheart:

especially during early game, i feel like shadowheart was literally clenching so hard to avoid admitting cute things were cute. like "oh.. a stray mutt... charming I MEAN IN LIKE A GROSS WAY". she was trying to hard to be all scary and into shar and shit but she just really likes puppies and other animals and crap

if she were modern i feel like she would really like pixar movies (inside out comes to mind for reasons i cannot explain) and wear long jean skirts. i cant explain any of this but it is fact in my mind. even in the bg3 setting i do feel like she would wear very long boxy type skirts. sort of plays into her whole "dark priestess" sort of vibe

shadowheart was sitting in her tent with scissors fucking losing her shit with anxiety trying to cut her own bangs without a mirror. it is a literal miracle from selune that they dont look like complete and total shit. no wonder halsin was surprised. (minor silverheart/shadow'zel: when she first like actually properly noticed what shaodwheart did with her hair, since the initial joke is she cant tell what changed, i think lae'zel was very impressed. she even likened it to like a sort of war paint against shar. also we KNOW lae'zel likes silver)

(can be interpreted as bladeheart/,,, do wyll and shadowheart have a ship name yet? HM. well anyway i think that in conjunction with the previous headcanon about wyll gardening, he and shadowheart garden together and he specially grew her night orchids)

lae'zel:

ever since i looked at her stupid little mindflayer training dummie in camp ive had the image of her in my head very angrily and intensly carving up a turnip to look like a mindflayer. draws a little mean face on it like the worlds most violent six year old. every time she messes up on her little DIY project shes muttering curses in tir'su.

lae'zel will take any opportunity to infodump about githyanki culture. specifically red dragons. if she met a red dragonborn or even maybe a follower of tiamat or some shit she would be so hype. in her "i hate everyone SVAH" way ofc. but like. trying to casually slide trivia into battle conversation or party banter with all the subtlety of an owlbear. "yes... the battle preparations are proceeding as expected... as expected a red dragons hibernation cycle..." and everyone just has to turn their head and ask what the fuck shes talking abt

(can be thought of as silverweave: lae'zel and gale talk in draconic about dragon history and the celestial plane. hes so tickled to have a mutual interest with lae'zel)

no one hears lae'zel laugh but when they do its so weird. like its some weird like hissing sort of sound and everyone has to do a double take and make sure theyre understanding what the fuck is going on for a second. lae'zel is incredibly defensive when people notice it but theyre not trying to be mean

karlach:

before her engine gets fixed but like early on to where shes not used to it, karlach keeps trying to touch things and keeps breaking them. this fills her with genuine despair and she will start crying (everyone in camp has to go on a group effort to calm her down). she just thinks the world is so beautiful and is so sad she cant interact with it

she likes to dance but in like a boot stompin way. karlach is probably just an absolute party animal when she gets her freedom back because honestly in her situation who wouldnt be. SHE JUST GOT TO NOT BE ON FIRE LET THE GIRL PARTY

once shes been fixed to the point where she can touch people, she just never stops. manhandling everyone in the party constantly. oh whats that? tav is on low health? dont worry karlach is sprinting over to put tav on her shoulder. literally any problem can be solved by karlach hugs and i wont be taking feedback on this

[unreadpoppy]

down by the river - chapter 1

Raphael x Warlock!Tav

A/N: Imma be honest that I don't know where I'm going with this. Had the idea for a long time and then got inspired by a reddit post and a few things said in a server. Also, there will probably be a second chapter.

Read on AO3

Chapter 2

While Tav was taking her precious time looting the corpses of their fallen foes, Astarion gathered the others around. 

“What a strange leader we have, don’t you think?” 

“What do you mean?” Shadowheart asked. 

“I mean, she barely speaks to anyone about anything, when we try to ask her about her life, she shuts off. I mean, I have my doubts that ‘Tav’ is even her real name!” Astarion said. “Besides, she has that…weird… writing on her collarbone that looks like a burn scar that no one can figure out what it means.”

The cleric looked at Tav, who was far away and with her back turned towards them. “Well, we all have our secrets. I know I have mine.” Then, she addressed Astarion. “However, I will say, I don’t even know what her…deal is.” 

“Deal?” The vampire asked. 

“You know. You’re a rogue, I’m a cleric, Wyll’s a warlock, but Tav…” 

At that moment, Wyll put his head in between the two of them. “I think it’s best if you leave the gossip for later.” He motioned forwards with his chin. “Tav’s coming.” 

They tried not to look suspicious, each looking in another direction. Tav eyed them with a raised brow. 

“Ah Tav, finally done turning every stone you could find?” Astarion asked. She merely grumbled and turned towards Wyll.

“We will go find that devil you need to kill.” Tav said, and began walking away. The three eyed each other and followed along.   

Later that night, now with Karlach in tow, the group was visited by Mizora, who punished her warlock for not keeping his part of the deal. Before the she-devil left, she turned towards the leader.

“Oh and dear Tav, I would keep both of my eyes very open.” She smirked. “Your master is looking for you.” Engulfed in flames, the cambion left the party alone and filled with questions. 

There was silence all around, only the crinkling of the fire being heard, as everyone turned to look at Tav, who had anger written across her face. 

Finally, Karlach spoke. “What…the…fuck.”  

“So. Do you have anything you’d like to tell us, Tav?” Astarion asked, having daggers shot in his direction.

“No.” Tav replied dryly. She sighed. “I’ll go to sleep now. I’d recommend everyone do the same.” She turned her back on the group, gathered her things and laid on her bedroll. The others shared confused and worried looks, but most shrugged and moved on.

 Tav closed her eyes, almost immediately falling into a dream. In it, she saw herself, alongside her companions. It was night and they were near a river, the moon shining above them. There was a figure, waist-deep inside the body of water, surrounded by weird, hook like shapes that turned into fish. 

Tav waved a hand, setting the water ablaze. She entered the river and walked towards the person. After the flames had died down, Tav looked around and then glanced at a familiar face she knew all too well. 

The face of the devil who had saved her many years ago. Whom had burned his name onto her skin. He looked at her and smirked. 

Tav woke up, the mark on her collarbone burning. She breathed rapidly, placing a hand where it hurt and whispered 

“Raphael.”