#i miss my purple tiefling

[pyrithadrian]

The first time they kissed — on the lips, properly, like two person who wanted to be together — it was, regrettably, unfortunately, quick.

It was a slight peck, gentle and careful like Mollymauk was afraid of breaking him, and he grinned wildly afterwards, seeming proud and joyful like he had always been.

“You taste of dirt, Magic Man,” he said, then ran off, walked down the stairway to greet Jester, as though he didn’t just turn his world upside down, as though he didn’t just kiss him with an unfounded tenderness.

The second time, the third time, all of the times, Mollymauk kept telling him how he tasted. Dirt and books and the soap from the bathhouse. You-should-wash-your-clothes. You-taste-like-yesterday’s-meal. He said all of those things, smiling and soothing, and kept on kissing him, as though he couldn’t get enough.

The final time, he kissed him, and didn’t tell him how he tasted.

He kissed him like he knew they would never meet again, he kissed him like they were to reach the end of Mollymauk-and-Caleb-Widogast, he kissed him like a farewell, like a please-live-well and a forget-me-not.

“How do I taste, Caleb?”

He asked, and red, gentle eyes looked into his own, like he was searching for something, and like he had found it in them. He turned away, and ran off, again, to Beau still stiffly glancing over Keg, his smile still utterly Mollymauk-Tealeaf, like the first time Caleb had seen him, like the last time Caleb would ever see him.

And he never told him — he could never tell him, that he tasted like the sun. He tasted of life and love and sunlight dancing on the grass, and he would never taste anything like that ever again.

[gayestcowboy]

new ref sheet for an old dnd character!!

[estreleta]

intimacy

[astarionslittletreat]

Sunrise

Astarion x female reader/Tav

Rating: Explicit

You must be 18 years or older to interact with this post in any way

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags: smut, slight end game spoilers, Astarion good ending spoilers, mentions of past abuse/abuser, sex, piv sex, oral sex, cuteness, fangs, biting, over-stimulation, bleeding, blood, blood drinking

Summary: Astarion and the reader share an intimate morning together as they contemplate their past, present, and future together.

Read on AO3

It's the early hours of dawn, just before sunrise. The sky was deep purple just an hour ago, but now it’s transforming into shades of indigo and blue. A faint glow threatens to spill over the city walls, to wash away the final vestiges of night. It's been a while since you've greeted the sun like this, not that you never see her at all anymore. After all, if something needs done during the daylight, you take care of it without issue. But that's all business. Just fleeting glances as you move through the crowded streets of Baldur's Gate. This right now, during the quiet hours of dawn, this is pleasure. This is you waking, nude, on the forest floor after your first night with Astarion. This is the sun’s rays warming your bodies before the two of you sneak back into camp. This is Astarion’s eyes glinting in the light, like that shared goblet of Arabella Dry at the Tiefling party.

Your heart yearns for the sun like you yearn for the past. You see your small smile reflected in the window as you continue to watch the sky change. A dozen-dozen heartbeats pass, and then the soft golden honey of the morning sun caresses the rooftops of the city, before spilling down onto the streets below. The heartache in your chest fades to nothing as the sun fully crests the horizon to kiss your face, a mere phantom in comparison to what you have now. The moment is over for you. You’ve had your fill and you begin to feel the fingers of sleep coaxing you to rest.

“Do you miss it, darling?" Astarion calls out to you from your bed, well out of view from the sun. "The daylight that is.”

Untying your silk robe, you let the soft fabric slip from your shoulders to pool at your feet. Both the sun and your lover lovingly gaze at your sun dappled curves. "It's strange," you muse, holding your hand up as if to catch the morning light. "I have so many memories of you in the sun, but no. You're the only thing I ever miss." You take a few moments, eyes squinting through the brightness to watch the people begin to fill the streets before pulling the heavy curtain firmly close. “And besides–” You turn to your love. He’s artfully draped himself, nude, across the plush pillows that adorn your bed. A deliberate attempt at making himself look all the more enticing. “How could the sun ever hope to compete with my dear Astarion’s beauty?”

He beams at your compliment, practically preening at the attention. Reaching out, he proffers his hand for you to take. It fits neatly in his as you let him pull you, gently leading you back to bed, back to him. It's a gallant gesture as your eyes readjust to the darkness of the room. A yawn begins to creep its way up and you only just manage to stifle it as Astarion draws your back to his chest. His pale, strong arms wrap around you as he presses you close, holding you tight. There weren't any cuddles the first night, or in the weeks that followed as you let him feed on you, but back then there wasn't anything real between you at all. Just lies and illusions and unending uncertainty. But somehow, by some miraculous blessing, you were able to earn his trust, just as he earned yours.

“Now you know that’s not what I meant, darling.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Though, please continue to remind me of how beautiful I am. Your words almost make up for how useless mirrors are to me.” You hear the smirk in his tone alongside the underlying truth. Uncertainty. As much as Astarion tries to hide his past pain, to pretend he’s fine and not hurting, you know the scars will never truly leave. Even after death, Cazador still manages to find a way to torture Astarion, and it drives you fucking insane with rage. It takes you a moment to collect your feelings. There’s no room for this in the bedchamber, or in your heart. Anger and sorrow will do nothing but more harm and that’s the last thing you wish to bestow upon Astarion. All he wants–all he needs is an answer to the question he left unasked. It's not difficult for you to understand. He wants to make sure you don’t regret your decision to stay with him–worried that he’s not enough. He’s worried if this is what you truly want. That he’s not trapped you, or worse, that you’re staying with him out of some fucked up feeling of guilt or pity. He won’t admit that he’s terrified of hearing your answer even if he knows in his heart what it’ll be. That’s why he doesn’t ask what he really wants to know. That’s why he wears his mask of smiles as he plays with your hair between his dexterous fingers. He’s content to pretend, but there’s no way you can leave him like this. Just floundering inside his heart while he holds you in his arms. For the briefest moment you’re almost tempted to fall asleep like this. Wrapped in Astarion’s embrace, snuggled peacefully in your bed together, but you know that after all this time, a part of Astarion still seeks your assurance.

“I miss it, the sun, the people, our friends–” Astarion freezes, as still as a statue, and suddenly the room feels cold. His muscles jerk in a way that alludes to him not knowing whether or not to pull away or hold you tighter. Reluctant to let you slip away from him, he’s afraid that this will be the last time he has to hold you. Silly elf. “But it’s not in the way you think, my love. It’s purely nostalgia. I was just reminiscing about our early days. When we first met, when we first had sex, traveling together, and unsure which day was going to be our last." Your mind drifts, gravitating to fonder memories. “The first time we made love. Your grave. I–,” The threat of tears begins to rise in your throat so you cut yourself off. Again, there is no sadness in you. Just the overwhelming feeling of love for Astarion. Of feeling like you’ve found the place you both belong. 

"I wouldn’t stop you, darling. I won’t keep you here, all for myself, if that is something you no longer wished for. If you ever–do decide you've had enough of me. Or even if you could no longer stand to spend your waking hours in the cold night. I would understand."

"Astarion!" The incredulity in your tone is a good mockery of Astarion’s own frequent ostentatiousness. He’s gone too far. This line of teasing isn’t any fun and, truthfully, it hurts to imagine leaving after striving so hard to live your life together. After ensuring your love is real, and strong, and brighter than any sunrise you could imagine. You move to chastise him quickly, turning in his arms as best you can to face him. Pressing your palms to his chest, you glower, face set into an angry scowl before you realize. His red eyes are overflowing with sorrow and self-loathing. And all at once, your anger melts into nothing. “My love,” you whisper as you press chaste kisses to the shadows under his eyes, and even though you’re the one being held, you wrap your arms around Astarion’s neck to bring him close. Your bodies move instinctually, the embrace being frequent and familiar as Astarion rests his lips against your neck. You card your fingers through his silky curls. There’s no intention of feeding at the moment, though. It’s just the two of you basking in your gentle love, relaxing into the moment.

“Do you remember, before making it back to Baldur’s Gate together, that godforsaken shadow cursed land we had to traverse?”

“Shit, don’t remind me.” Astarion scoffs, pulling back to look at you. His eyes roll in mirth, fangs flashing from behind his lips. “I know our dear Shadowheart was right at home with all the doom and gloom, and while I too am a fan of darkness and the macabre–I prefer to be the only creature lurking in the night, hunting for their next meal. That entire place was far too crowded for my tastes.” 

“Not to mention Raphael, or the horrors of the Cult of the Absolute,” you trivialize in jest.  

Astarion leans in close. His soft lips brush over the sensitive skin of your neck as he speaks. “Or that vile drow who sought to use me because of what I am.” The venom in his voice is dampened by the reverence in the kiss he places on your neck. “There is only one person I feed on and I have her right–here.”His hand is in your hair, his breath is hot on your neck, and your heart is suddenly choking you, pounding in your throat. His fangs barely scrape your skin and you know that you only have to say the word–.

“Yes,” you breathe. There’s never any pain. Just a light pressure as Astarion’s fangs sink softly into your flesh, and then a swooping sensation as your blood is being pulled to his lips. The familiar feeling of lightheadedness begins to return. It’s nothing light that first night. No, this is controlled, worshipful even as he savors your blood on his lips and tongue. You don’t need to tell him to stop before your fingers go numb and your heart flutters in protest. He’ll stop long before there’s any danger, no matter how much he may tease otherwise. It’s easy to relax and go limp, trusting Astarion fully as he cradles your body reverently.

Far too soon Astarion stops feeding from you. “Delicious,” his moan makes you shiver. Blood begins to slowly trail from your twin puncture wounds, painting your neck crimson. Astarion isn’t one to waste a precious gift that you offer so freely to him, however. He makes quick work of the mess. Devouring it all until it’s just his tongue on your skin, traveling the length of your neck, chasing the way your body shivers. Overwhelmed from the unique mixture of pleasure and pain that makes your head spin and your body hot. Gods, you love this man. He’s so, he’s just so, so–

“W–wait. Astarion, wait,” you weakly plead for his attention, grabbing at his shoulder. You feel him smile before scraping his teeth on your skin, refusing to stop. The devious vampire did this on purpose and he knows he’s been caught red-handed, or well, rather red-lipped as he continues to playfully bite at you. Astarion just hums into the curve of your neck, refusing to acknowledge that he’s been found out. “Hey!” You laugh defeatedly as Astarion kisses the shell of your ear. “Stop trying to distract me!”

Astarion’s lips find your jaw before traveling over your cheekbones. You close your eyes and he places kisses there as well before finding your mouth. Trying his very best to lure you into parting your lips for him. “I rather think you’re the distracting one, my dear.”

“I’m trying to tell you something and I want you to listen, please.” Glaring, you hold his red gaze in yours and his perfect, bloodstained lips fall into a pout that’s just a little too perfect. Another ploy. Your head is still slightly spinning, but through sheer force of will you begin to collect your thoughts. The need to kiss away his frown, however sly it might be, is strong, but he needs to hear what you have to tell him. “As sad and as miserable as that entire place was–if for some reason that’s where you were, where Astarion decided to be, I would also–”

“You mustn't worry about that, darling. I wouldn’t be caught dead, or rather, undead in a place like that ever again.”

“Hush,” You try to quiet him by pressing your fingers to his lips. A poor decision in hindsight as Astarion instantly kisses them. Running his tongue along your fingertips, trying his hardest to distract you once more. “Stop! Listen–just wait a second. I’m trying to be sweet to you.”

“Oh, I know exactly just how sweet you are.” Astarion’s voice drops as he slips into seducing you. “So much so that I rather think I’d like another bite.”

“Yes, yes. I know. Your “little treat”.” Reclaiming your fingers from Astarion’s greedy mouth, you cup his too handsome face. Willing him to listen to you. “The only thing I wish for in life, in death, in whatever time I’m given, is to be with you. Wherever and however I can. I love you and never once have I regretted my love or wished it away.” You’ll tell him of your love every second of every day if that’s what it takes. If that’s what makes him smile like this, dazzling and warmer than anything the sun has ever graced you with. You stretch your head up and kiss him. You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. You kiss him until the need for air demands your attention and you break free to refill your lungs.

Astarion rests his forehead to yours, curly locks obscuring his hungry gaze underneath, as he catches his breath. Your chests heave in unison, breathing life into the fiery tension blazing between your bodies. One moment you’re both still, wrapped in each other's embrace, and the next the room spins as Astarion wraps a leg around your hip, rolling you until you lay on your back. He’s straddled your hip, pinning you underneath. His eyes are hungry as he looms over you, his disheveled curls haloing him in the dim light. Astarion drags a hand down your collarbone, delicately tracing the veins under your skin before gently cupping your breast. A flick of his wrist has you gasping as he plays with your nipple. You can’t help but thrust your hips up, seeking the attention that Astarion is teasing. He ignores your silent plea, stilling his hand until you follow suit.

“You’re not playing fair.” You halfheartedly complain, willing your body to calm. 

“I never promised that I would, my sweet.” You don’t know what god or goddess you should pray to to thank them for bringing you Astarion, but you’re a devout believer. “Now stay still, or I might bite.” He flashes his fangs at you. It’s not a real threat. He’d never actually bite you without your consent, but the tease still sends shivers down your spine. Coursing through your body until they land, pulsing deeply in your cunt. Astarion leans forward, an illusion of a predator cornering their prey. His soft cock begins to harden as he cups your face in both of his hands. Cradling you as if you’re something breakable, something precious. Astarion swipes his thumb across your cheek as he stares into your eyes–as if it’s the first time he’s seen the sunrise. “I love you.” 

Astarion pounces, taking you down with a devastatingly deep kiss. If kisses were ambrosia you’d have been drunk ages ago. And still you want more. You need more of him. His heart, his touch, gods above, you need his cock that’s pressed between your thigh and his abdomen, but Astarion refuses to stop kissing you or to move into a more accessible position. He slides his tongue into your mouth, licking you open until you writhe and squirm with a need that burns so hot it overpowers your senses. But even still, Astarion doesn’t relent. He presses on, moving from your mouth back down to your throat where he begins to suck bruises to your sensitive skin. Out of pure desperation, you grasp at his back until your fingers graze his scars before moving to grip his shoulders. You clutch him to you just as passionately as he kisses you. It takes everything inside of you not to bust and fade away into the Weave as Astarion uses his weight to keep you pinned to the bed. His lips move from your throat and for one solitary second you think he might give you what you need, but no. Instead, he works his way along your jaw, tracing you with his mouth until he finds the place under your ear that drives you wild.

“Fuck–please! Astarion—” His cock, hard and weeping now, rests on your stomach. Pressed between your bodies as Astarion rolls his hips. Clenching, you feel your arousal dripping out to stain the sheets below. You’re wet, so unbearably wet and empty and aching for him to fill you. You’re pleading and your moans do nothing to sway the elf, though you know the bastard hears you. His pointed ears twitch as you cry out for him, but he continues to hold you down. Unwilling to pull back even an inch to separate himself from you. You manage to angle your arm just enough to get a solid handful of his hair, and begin to pull. Slowly but firmly enough that his head raises just enough to make eye contact, and as you do, you feel his cock throb with need. He likes this.

“Oh fu–ck!” Astarion’s shameless cry comes out sticky sweet from his throat, Adam’s apple quivering prominently. He sounds drunk. He looks it too. The expression on his face is close to ecstasy before you accidentally lose your hold on his hair. Too turned on and thoroughly debauched to be able to concentrate on keeping your grip. Not when he shifts his hips to create a delicious friction between your slick pussy and his engorged cock. You chase the feeling, grinding against him as best you can, but to no avail. You’re still pinned beneath him. Hips and thighs locked. Both you and Astarion are reduced to base instincts as his rigid cock slides over your clit once more before contact is lost. This isn’t fucking working. You’re only briefly aware of the pillows being pushed to the floor, shoved away by Astarion to make better room for your head, before his hand reaches down. He shifts and forces your leg over his hip. He’s a man consumed by desire. His need for you.

Astarion hovers over you, his crimson eyes piercing you through your heart as you reach for him, aiming to pull him back down for another taste of his ambrosia lips. Instead he captures your hand in his and pulls it to his bloodstained mouth. He sweeps gentle kisses over your knuckles before intertwining his fingers with yours and pins it to the mattress. His other hand finds your thigh, grasping tightly before guiding your knee to your chest. Opening and exposing your pussy for him to slide his cock against your entrance. “That’s it darling,” he encourages you. Praising you as he slides against you, slowly dragging his cock along your wet slit. The head of his cock catches, and without hesitation, Astarion presses in. It’s blissful and devastating as Astarion finally fucking fills you. Sliding in on one long stroke to fully seat you on his cock. He doesn’t pull out, just gently grinds against you. His smooth skin and throbbing cock caressing you until your breath leaves. Whisked away by your lover, leaving you with blurry vision and a spinning room. “Now, now. We can’t have that.” Astarion rolls his hips, wonderfully grinding against your folds and bringing friction that your clit so desperately desires. The sensation makes you gasp, forcing you to gulp down air, reminding you that you’re here–now. Very much alive and not in heaven, no matter how much it feels like you are.

“Astarion–”

You’re not sure if he’s listening. Flaming eyes and a silent snarl are all that he gives you besides a deep guttural moan as he continues to fuck you. It’s slow and brutal and entirely different from any performance he puts on. This isn’t Astarion trying to pretend to be anything other than the vampire–the man that he is. Desperate and extraordinarily dangerous as he claims you for himself. Your orgasm taunts you. Haunting you from the edges, and you want it so fucking bad, but you also couldn’t care any less. It’s now, it’s this moment, it’s Astarion who holds your attention in his iron grasp. Ruining you with his love. You hear the wet sounds of your pussy as he fucks into you. Pushing more of your arousal out of your cunt with his cock. He lets go of your hand and leans in close, snaking his arm under the small of your back. Using his vampiric strength, Astarion pulls on you, just enough that your hips shift to a new glorious angle. One that has him hitting a spot that makes you go feral underneath him as his pelvis grinds against your clit on every stroke. He keeps his other hand firmly under your knee, pushing your leg into a position that stretches your hips. It all feels so fucking good. 

Astarion’s taut, muscular body moves over you. He’s graceful even now as he holds you, fucking you rhythmically. You clench around him, wordlessly asking him for more, and he raises his head. Fangs snapping in the air, muscles tensing in his neck as Astarion tries hopelessly to hold on to his senses. A half-baked idea forms in your dazed brain. You don’t stop to think it through, you can’t. You just act, throwing your arm around Astarion’s neck, pulling him close until you have him right where you want him. You sink your blunt teeth into the side of his neck. Your vampiric imitation pales in comparison to the true thing. Only biting hard enough to bruise his delicate moonlight skin. The moment you bite down on Astarion’s neck, you feel his cock throbbing inside of you. His breath hitches in your ear as you press your tongue against his skin and a soft moan escapes his lips. 

“Fuck–” he growls through gritted fangs. Dropping your leg, Astarion moves his hands to the curve of your hips. Holding on tight, and pinning you down as you continue your mock feeding. “Fancy yourself a vampire now, darling?” You bite down harder in agreement and Astarion melts in your arms. Moaning as you claim him as yours in return. “I think not,” he protests, and for a second you think it’s an empty threat. It feels like he’s close, like he’s struggling to keep from falling over the edge. That is until he starts to move again, fucking your pussy like a goddamn promise. “I’m the only blood sucker you’ll find in this bed, darling, and I’m going to eat you right up.” Before you know what’s happened, Astarion has hold of both your legs, knees propped over his strong shoulders. He circles your aching clit with his thumb as he savagely fucks you. Tits bouncing from the force, sliding you up the bed on every thrust. You feel the spit that streaks your lips as you gasp out for him. It’s too intense–too much all at once. You try to hold on, to stop your orgasm from slamming into. Astarion gives you a  saccharine smile. "You sound so adorable when you're trying not to come."

You beg. 

You curse. 

You come.

Gushing on his cock, your body is electrified, and you fall. Blood rushes in your ears so loudly you can’t hear anything. Your senses thrust you into a burning pit of pleasure as Astarion forces you down further. Spiraling until you find yourself caught, supported in Astarion’s arms. An uncomfortable wetness coats your legs and part or Astarion’s stomach but you can’t find the motivation to care because somehow, he’s still moving. He's held on long enough to fuck you through you orgasm. Giving your pussy long, even strokes as he chases his high. His ethereal face is close and so you take him with your lips. Kissing him, licking his fangs, until you feel his cock pulsing, overfilling you until his spend leaks out from around his cock. Adding to the mess.You feel like you’re floating. Exhausted, yes, but happy and ready to sleep. The mess will keep till nightfall when it’s time to wake, but Astarion shows no sign of slowing.

“No, my love. You're doing so well for me, but I’m not done with you yet.” Grabbing a pillow from the floor, Astarion cups your head, lifting it for you to place the cushion underneath before tenderly laying you back down. He slides down your body, lavishing you with attention. Forcing you to stay in the present with him by kissing your dips and curves. Any place he finds on your body he marks it for himself. Kneeling between your legs he softly coaxes you open. His spent cock rests half hard but bobs in excitement as he spreads the lips of your soaked pussy, licking his lips like he's being presented with a feast in his honor. The air from the room feels cold and uncomfortable on your wet entrance, covered in the sticky slick remnants of your lovemaking. It makes you clench involuntarily and more of Astarion leaks out of you. Astarion looks ruined at the sight of you. His perfect features contort into agonized lust before he leans in.

“Wait! No I’m too–” He doesn’t listen. Astarion leans down and wraps his lips around your mound. You can’t help the way your body jerks at the first swipe of his tongue on your oversensitive pussy. He’s cleaning the mess he's made of you. His sharp fangs are hot pinpricks on your skin that further blur the line of pleasure and pain you’re walking down. Another swipe of Astarion’s tongue has you twisting, kicking your legs to pull away. You move higher up on the bed, willing space for your body to recover. “Please, I need a minute. ”

Astarion reaches up, catches your ankle in his firm grasp, and pulls. His strength makes it look easy as he drags you, clutching at the traitorous bed sheets in desperation, to his parted lips. “I said I’d eat you up darling, and frankly, I’m still absolutely famished.” His voice is gravel but yours is fire as he begins to eat his fill of you. This time you’re unable to pull away. He’s wrapped his arms around your thighs, locking your cunt to his mouth so he can eat you like a piece of fruit that drips down his lips and chin. Saccharine sweet and delicious as Astarion consumes you. Fucking you with his tongue. Licking your nectar coated skin and sucking you between his teeth.

You lack any leverage to fight back, to twist away. Your entire lower half is being held up off the bed by the vampire feasting on your pussy. If you sincerely asked for him to let you go, to set you back down you know he would, but you can’t force yourself to say the words. You don’t want to. You want this. Astarion knows you want this as you gasp, muscles clenching while he sucks your clit between his lips. His breath is hot flames that lick along your scorched nerves. “That’s it, love. You can give me one more, can’t you darling.”

Yes, you think, or maybe you agree out loud because you hear Astarion chuckle before kissing his praise into cunt. For a second you’re confused as he pulls back again, wondering why he’s stopped. But then Astarion adjusts his grip on you, making sure your leg is solidly hooked over his shoulder, before he slides two fingers into your pussy. “Ah! P-please,” you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Astarion gives it to you all the same. Scissoring his fingers, he strokes your cunt. Gently trying to coax out your pleasure, caressing your insides until you sing. his lips find your folds once more. His devastating accuracy brings you over the edge in moments. You’re left gasping, head spinning as the position Astarion holds you in makes it hard to breathe. It takes him a few moments, his lips busy kissing your pussy, his tongue lapping your mess, before he eases you back down into the ruined silk sheets. His mouth finds yours and you taste yourself on his lips, bitter in comparison to how thoroughly sweet he’s being. 

You feel dazed–and elated. Your body floats somewhere between the heavens and the earth. Entwined together with Astarion who holds you close, refusing to let you go, but you don’t mind. His skin, though warm, is still much cooler than yours. It feels wonderful as your heartbeat begins to slow, your breathing returning to normal. Turning your head just so brings Astarion’s lips back to yours and the easy kisses you share almost bring tears to your eyes. Blinking them away is easy though as Astarion deepens the kiss, parting your lips so gently you don’t realize what’s happening at first. Not until you feel Astarion shifting his hips to slide his engorged cock along your entrance once more. You part easily for him, sending shivers of over-stimulation mixed with desire through every limb. There is no rush this time. Just a few languid strokes that have you gasping into Astarion’s mouth before he stills. Even while kissing you, you can see the smirk on his face as he allows you to adjust to holding him inside. Laying there together, connected in the deepest sense. Warming each other with limbs and lips entangled. “What the hell has gotten into you?” You don’t really expect an answer from Astarion as he seems to be preoccupied with lavishing attention across your collarbone.

“I’ve decided to reclaim the day for myself. It’s what I’m owed,” he sulks, looking up at you through his pretty eyelashes, but you can hear the sincerity behind his words. Yes. Yes, Astarion is owed the day. The sun. That and so much more, but not all of it is within your power to give. But this–this you can do. His ruby eyes sparkle in the candlelight as they dance along your face. Your answering smile stuns him into silence.

*************************

The sun has long since set as you stifle a yawn. Nostalgia returns once more. It’s been ages since the night meant it was time to rest, but the elf who’s at fault for keeping you up all day looks positively happy. So you let your complaints remain silent as you gaze at your lover. A heavy tomb rests in his lap and a gold chalice clutched in his delicate hand is filled with either wine or blood. You can’t tell from your position across the room. Reluctantly, you glance back down to the delicately looping script on the thick parchment in front of you. The letter is from Gale, back in his tower in Waterdeep. You’ve been trying to read it for the last half hour, but Astarion is just, so distracting. Honestly, anything could distract you from Gale going on about his Tressym, but Astarion seems to be especially good at it. That is until your eyes catch a few words that make you excited.

“Astarion.”

“Yes, darling?” He answers, eyes slow to leave the pages of his book.

“How would you feel about visiting with Gale for a bit?”

Astarion doesn’t try to hide the disinterest on his face at all as he turns his attention back to his reading. “No.”

“It’s just that–wait. No?” His answer takes you completely off guard. “What do you mean no?”

He heaves a sigh into his book. “I suppose if he were to come here that would be fine with me, but I’m far too busy this evening to travel all the way down to the Lower City just to visit with Gale.” 

“Busy?” you laugh. “What do you have planned that makes you “too busy” to see a friend?”

“First of all,” he interjects. Head raising until he adopts a pose of self-importance. “‘Friend’ is much too strong of a descriptor for my relationship with that wizard. At most we are merely,” his graceful fingers swirl about until he finds the words he’s searching for, “–former work associates at best.”

“Oh is that so?” you say, smiling up at the hill you know Astarion is about to come down from.

“And besides, what if I get a bit peckish later tonight?” He pouts, coyly looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Neither one of us would like Gale around for that.”

“Well you’re being very greedy tonight, and I can’t say I don’t like it either,” you shoot him a look before unburying the lead. “But Gale isn’t in Baldur’s Gate, love. He’s invited us to his tower in Waterdeep.”

“Why would we travel all the way to Waterdeep just to see Gale fawn over his cat?”

You hold out the thick parchment letter with Gale’s elegant handwriting for him to look over. “Apparently, Gale and Tara have a lead on a cure for your sun sensitivity–” Astarion is out of his seat, book falling heavily to the floor, and by your side in an instant. He snatches the letter from your hand, reading Gale’s words for himself. You put on an air of indifference. “But if you really don’t want to go visit an old ‘work associate’, I understand.”

“Now now now, my love. Let’s not be hasty.” You roll your eyes. “Gale is a dear friend of ours! And I hear that Waterdeep is beautiful this time of year, not as beautiful as I am, of course, but that would be expecting far too much I suppose.” You let Astarion read on, absorbing the message for himself. “Well,” he says as he reaches the end, signed with your friend’s love. “It seems our wizard has been busy. Very busy, if he has a possible solution for you too.”

“I’m not worried about that just yet, but it’s nice to know I might be able to stick around longer than I thought possible.” Astarion caresses your cheek, allowing you space in the same way you provide for him. “I think I’m ready for another adventure though. It’s been a while since anyone’s tried to murder us. What do you think, love?”

He bends down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m ready to have some fun,” he smiles. Fangs and all.

[lilbittymonster]

Day 11 - Duality / Dual Wield

A Tale of Two Kitalis

When I first designed Kitali, she was a tiefling ranger for a 5e Tal'Dorei campaign. She was a dual wielder of two elven scimitars, taught by one of her companions, and their mission was to aid one of the druidic circles in repairing the damage of rifts made between the prime material and other elemental planes.

When that campaign collapsed after only 8 sessions, I was devastated. I had put in probably around 5 or so months worth of work into her backstory, and weaving it alongside my 6 other fellow players' backstories, as well as an in-depth session 0 with our DM that fleshed out her family and her prior relationships further.

Fast forward to around a year into lockdown. I was convinced by a friend and a couple other Twitch streamers to give the free trial a go, and decided to try remaking Kitali for the world of FFXIV. I was able to salvage a lot of her original backstory, actually, which made me SO happy that I wouldn't have to re-imagine her from the ground up. The only things missing were her two short swords (and her big ram's horns, but that was negligible.)

I wound up falling completely in love with being a dragoon, and it is still her main job, but Kitali Moonblade is not complete without her dual wielding abilities. And having the lore of the shinobi wind up being so close to home once I settled on her full backstory, I couldn't separate the job from her. So now she has a hybrid main job of both her dragoon and ninja abilities.

As much as I am glad that the campaign ended, I still mourn for the potential my little purple tiefling had, and some small piece of that can still live on in XIV Kitali.

Prompt List

[good-wizard]

OKAY OKAY GUYS I TRIED TO GET A PHOTO OF US ALL, I KNOW I MISSED A FEW OF YOU BUT ITS THE BEST I COULD DO PLUMMETING FROM 100,000 FEET WITH TEA, CAKE, PIE, AND WEED BROWNIES ALL FLYING AROUND ME

Thankyou all for showing up now let's get our tea on!!

[I drew everyone's profile pictures, if they didn't have something I could draw I looked at their headers and if those didn't have anything I looked for ocs, I hope you all like it!!!]

[and if you didn't make it just draw yourself in somewhere! I don't mind! We are all invited!!]

Here's a list of everyone I got in the picture:

@the-gnomish-bastard (3rd picture in the center)

@slutty-wizard-council (second picture in the center)

@the-gnomish-bastards-dad (3rd picture upper left)

@combustion-wizard (first picture, upper middle, your teas exploding)

@yourlocalbreadenthusiast (3rd picture behind large beige creature, top right)

@the-better-goblin-union (2nd picture middle right)

@siley-the-wizard (1st picture just off from the center to the left)

@dalob (3rd picture bottom left, next to me)

@circuslemon (your lime is bottom middle, you are off middle top right)

@well-dressed-sewer-rat (3rd picture between the gnomes)

@username-not-registered (3rd picture top middle)

@saul-moleman (3rd picture, middle, to the left, over my arm)

@the-kobold-bastard (next to mole, 3rd picture)

@funny-short-man (3rd picture, right of center Gnomie)

@sluttyambiguouswizard (3rd picture falling right of Gnomie)

@ashen-the-tiefling (2nd picture middle far right, your cat is with you)

@randomfaeriedragon (3rd picture middle right)

@mug-of-shark (3rd picture bottom right corner)

@chaos-familiar (3rd picture top left)

@monsterfucker-research-wizard (top left with clip board that says MFR {Monsterfucker research})

@wizardcrow (1st image middle, I drew you in human form, ig?)

@boxell (2nd image, Misha Collins, middle far left)

@evil-apprentice-wizard (2nd image, very top right corner)

@just-a-cool-wizard (big one eyed apple, 2nd image you can't miss it)

@ayoungfather (2nd image, bottom right, your shirt says something about fatherhood)

@terrencetheshark14 (2nd image bottom right, next to a clown)

@succufaerie (1st image, middle right, next to mirror, I did my best to draw you)

@bowl-of-moss (1st image, bottom middle, slightly to the right)

@barely-living-wizard-apprentice (first image, bottom left, towards middle!)

@wayworm (1st image bottom left, with Snoopy and a corn snake)

@jhomikle (1st image, middle left, with succubus, look closely in the mirror, you're holding tea!)

@aileaxthevoidien (1st image bottom left, you're drinking coffee)

@ima-snekk (1st image, with wayworm, bottom left)

@8ball-wizard (you are falling from the sky in the first image, your tea is spilling but you've just received an amazing prophecy)

@fearlessjones (1st image, center bottom)

@bugwizard4lyfe (1st image, bottom left, I think I accidentally combined your persona with someone else, whoops!)

@kobold-sanctuary-buss-island (1st image, center to the left, drinking tea with verylegalwizard)

@profoundmiscasting (2nd image, middle, sitting in chair, next to sluttywizardcouncil representative)

@reiki-tsubetai (second image, far right, top middle on side, you are falling)

@broccoli-bitching (2nd image, middle far left, under my arm)

@evil-wild-lesbian-wizard (1st image, far left, almost very top)

@gavamont (2nd image very center, behind slutty wizard council representative)

@bladlauf (2nd image, top right, beneath the evil apprentice wizard)

@fyriefairy (1st image, super bottom left!!)

@ablasphemyofpoets (2nd image bottom middle, slightly to the left, I didn't do a very good job)

@inkwell-god (2nd image, top middle)

@chaoticz8 (2nd image center, behind purple hooded lady

@slymewizard (2nd image, upper left, behind slutty wizard

@verdan-the-druid (2nd image, middle, In front of slutty wizard)

@vsgroundnet (2nd image top right, your super small but you're there!)

Okay guys my hand is dead, there are so many more of you and I don't have the time to @ you all. So I've devised an idea, @ whoever you reblogged from so they can see the picture,

Don't see yourself in the picture? I give you permission to draw yourself in anywhere you like!

Go crazy go wild, I love you guys this is a great sky tea party!!

Good wizard out! I think it's time for me to enjoy some weed brownies from just-a-cool-wizard

[yourplayersaidwhat]

Session 1

DM: Alright, since [Bard] rolled highest in initiative you start. Tell us about yourself. 

Bard:  So you see a super hot sea-elf. Just over 6 foot, shoulder length golden blonde hair. Sea green eyes. Again, super hot. Gotta elaborate. 

DM: Got it. What’s his name? 

Bard: Right right, Named him Trident. 

DM: That’s not going to get confusing. 

Bard: It’s fine. Anyway, which of the player characters are near me? 

DM: Uhhhh [My character] is probably closest. 

Bard: Sweet I’m going to go flirt with her. 

Me (who usually plays female characters): Oh. This’ll be interesting. 

DM: Well roll… performance or persuasion? 

Bard: So that’s a 17. 

DM: What do you say? I need to hear this. 

Bard: Probably something like. “Well hello there darling. Do you come here often miss?" 

DM: YES! THIS IS WHAT I WANTED!

Me: So you sauntered up to this dark purple skinned tiefling with white hair, which is absolutely butchered. Multiple lengths it’s ridiculous. HE turns around and you see his hair is also in his red eyes. His clothing is in poor quality and flithy. HIs button up even has buttons in the wrong holes. He’s going to reply with "What the fuck are you talking about?" 

Bard: *Dying laughing* I WAS PLANNING ON FLIRTING WITH THE FIRST FEMALE CHARACTER AND JUST KEEP UP THIS TREND! FUCK IT HE’S BI NOW!

Me: My guy was gonna be aromantic, but fuck it let’s see how this goes. 

DM: I’m so happy right now. What’s your insight? 

Bard: Uh passive is 15.

DM: What’s your character feeling [Me]?

Me: Annoyed and agitated. 

Bard: I love him. 

Paladin: I ship it. Please let me officiate their wedding. 

[whatusername00]

Which Baldur's Gate Characters Know How To Lace Up Their Clothing - Tiefling Edition

Or, Part 2. Honestly didn't expect my earlier post to be so popular, but I enjoyed doing it and enjoyed taking the screenshots for this one too. Honestly I intend to continue doing this regardless of how popular it is because I need to know.

I went through all the tieflings at the Emerald Grove, so if someone's not listed here it's probably because they just don't have anything that laces shut. I don't think I missed anyone.

Starting with Zevlor. Honestly I'm not even sure this is actually lacing rather than decoration. If it is laced, it's the only spiral lacing I've seen so far, but's its so miniscule I'm not totally sure. There are other instances of this same pattern that definitely are decoration, but this is the only one that looks like it goes over two pieces, so I'm convincing myself it's actually laced. I give it a 8/10. Perfect execution, but so small I don't know why it's there at all.

So Alfira, Lia, and Rechel all where the same corset with slightly different colors, so I'll just judge them all at once. Something I've noticed is that Larian rarely shoes the knot where these characters tie off their lacing, which really bugs me. It especially bugs be here, since corsets are one of my favorite things to make. But, the corset (both the front and the sides) have a horizontal lace at the top and bottom, which is accurate and not seen on a lot of the lacing in game where it should be, even if it is missing a knot. Lia and Rechel get a 9/10, and Alfira gets a 9.1/10 because I like the purple lacing.

Zorru and Lakrissa both have this sleeve lacing. One of the very few instances of knots being shown! Unfortunately, it's not laced properly. They do the same thing Astarion does - one eyelet in a pair is laced from the outside, and the other is laced from the inside. For cross-lacing, they should match. Also, I think this is two separate pieces of lacing instead of one long piece, which bugs me, but there are clearly two knots which is nice. 7/10.

As far as his front closure goes, it's nice! Honestly I'm a little bored of the cross-lacing at this point, but I guess that's just the style at this point in time. The lacing is consistent, which is something some of our companions couldn't do. 10/10.

As far as his shoulders go, I don't know how I feel about it. It's a bunch of different pieces of lacing, which means a bunch of different knots to tie. Definitely tied everything together once and never bothers with it again. Which, same. I do that with my shoes. 8/10 at least cut the ends to be the same length dude.

Bex's shirt is the same as Tav's starting outfit. Her skirt, however, has...this on the back. We're going to ignore her tail phasing through the top two crosses. At first, I hated the design, because why do you need a skirt that's split down the back. Honestly, the only thing that would be needed to sell this design to be would be to get rid of the top two crosses that I can obviously see, then it would make sense, because of the tail. But then why don't you just sew the skirt together from there down instead of lacing it? It already ties in the front. I guess I still hate the design.

But I digress. I'm arbitrarily judging the actual lacing job, not the skirt design. 8/10 there's no knot.

Toron is cursed with the lack of knots. I'm also fairly certain this is 3 separate laces, because I don't think this pattern is possible with one lace. If it's not knotted and the ends are just hanging down on the inside of his overshirt, I can only imagine how annoying it is. Honestly like 3/10 I hate looking at it.

Asharak, Danis, and Kanon (and Blurg, but he's not here) have the same outfit. And the way this is laced is not physically possible without fastening the lacing into place with sewing or glue or something. The lacing goes in and back out of the same eyelet on each cross, which would just pull the lacing out. Also, once again, not ends, no knots. 0/10 not physically possible.

Listen. This lacing is kind of atrocious. And given the circumstances (orphan, child) I'm willing to forgive him. However, that top right eyelet. He laced it in and back out of the same eyelet. Can't do that. At least 2 eyelets are missing. And I was having a hard time actually following the lacing so I pulled out a corset to try and follow - that lacing is not possible. The 4th eyelet from the top on the left has too many lines going to it. So, sorry Mattis, but 0/10. Meli also wears this top, btw.

Mirkon wears the same overshirt that Yenna does. So someone taught him how to lace his shirt properly. Didn't really help him with the harpies, but at least he looked put together while being lured. 10/10.

Arabella and Zaki wear the same outfit. And there no knot. Can you believe it? No knotting your lacing, in this game? Never seen before. It also seems to have the opposite issue and Asharak, Danis, and Kanon. Her lacing seems to go in and back out of the same eyelet, but instead of coming from the top, it comes from the bottom. Regardless, same issue, 0/10 not possible.

Locke and Umi wear the same outfit that Tav wears by default, except Locke's pants button instead of tie. That means the notes are about the same. They know how to lace, yay. Though they switch the lacing on the final cross, it has purpose - to keep the ends of the lacing on the outside (though it still sticks out.) 9/10.

And I think that's all the tieflings. And wow is it a lot. If you want to see this same thing for other characters, I'll link them below.

Camp Characters

[dark-and-kawaii]

have lofn and zevlor ever had a fight?

(ᵕ—ᴗ—) They have gotten into disagreements before for sure.

But there’s one time where he was actually upset with her, when he discovered who she actually was. She always kept her title as The Princess Of Thay to herself while at the grove and with her companions, Gale of course knew better since he’s so smart. Zevlor found out while traveling on the road with the other tieflings, two men were looking for Lofn, the missing Princess of Thay. That’s when Zevlor found out, and he was hurt by not only the fact that she kept it from him, but also because if someone found out or knew the tieflings were around her they’d be crucified for breathing the same air as her, that’s just how it went for them since they were “foul bloods.”

Lofn sat by the campfire, her mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions. She had found Zevlor again, the tiefling who had stolen her heart back in the Druid grove. Their reunion had been anything but the joyous occasion she had imagined though... Zevlor had been distant, almost cold, since she had released him from the capsule. His silence gnawed at her, and she could no longer bear it.

Rising from her seat, she approached where he sat alone. Lost in thought, Zevlor clutched his cup, his eyes fixed on the flickering flames.

She stopped just behind him, “Is there a reason you’ve been hiding away from me?” she asked, her voice firm yet mixed with frustration and hurt, “You’ve said little to me since I released you from that mindflayer pod.”

Zevlor didn't look at her, his back still turned toward her as his grip on the cup tightened, the liquid inside sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

“Can you at least look at me!” she demanded, her patience snapping.

With a heavy sigh and something similar to a growl, Zevlor cursed in infernal before turning to face her, “I suppose I have little choice when in the presence of a princess,” he said, his voice laced with a bitterness that cut through the night air. His arms were held out, the contents of his glass splashing onto the ground.

Lofn’s mouth parted, taken aback as her eyes left his and found the ground, she was going to tell him once their travels- once these things were out of their head… “How did you find out?” she stammered, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Two men came looking for you,” Zevlor replied, his brows furrowing, “They found us on the road first, demanding to know if we had seen a young woman with purple hair, the missing princess of Thay they say.” His lip twitched, his expression a mix of anger and fear. It’s not that he wished to be upset with her, it was the fact that should anyone- especially Aradin, found out about her they would crucify the tieflings for breathing the same air as her… Especially Zevlor, since he himself put his hands on her and laid with her… Though there was no regret with that, not one bit. “Many would have us killed for tainting the air you breathe, that’s just how it goes for us tieflings…”

Lofn closed the distance between them, her eyes hardened, as she saw the pain etched in Zevlor's face, “Any who dare threaten or touch you would be hanged or burned- same if they were to touch the others.” She reached out, her hand resting against his arm, “Zevlor, listen to me,” her voice steady but filled with emotion, “The men that came looking for me, one was a large white haired elf I assume. He's the only one my mother would trust with such a task. If he found you and talked to you then he already knows how much you mean to me, he knows things without words even needing to be spoken.”

She grabbed his hand and kissed it gently, her lips lingering on his skin, “I would never put you in harm's way, nor your people. I know how much they mean to you.”

Zevlor looked at her, his eyes searching hers for the truth and after a long moment, he sighed and pulled her into a tight embrace, “I believe you,” he whispered, “There are many who will try and-“

Lofn nodded, “I know,” she said.

He held her close, his grip tightening as if he feared she might disappear, “I trust you, Lofn,” he said softly. “But let there be no more secrets.”

“No more secrets,” she promised.

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Before

Thirty-five years before she was abducted by mind flayers, Ilona Fairshield encounters Lieutenant Zevlor and falls in love. The fourth vignette is NSFW but the rest are SFW.

Fuck me, this is boring.

This was not the first time on her trip that Ilona Fairshield thought that. It was perhaps the seventh time? I think? She agreed to move to Elturel for the time being, leaving her home in Baldur’s Gate. Aunt Rena and Uncle Andrick need help in the bakery, and I’m a baker and a very modestly skilled decorator. Until Auntie fully recovers from her illness, then there I’ll be. First time away from home. Away from Mum and Dad. Away from all my friends—

“What’s that?” she asked as she heard shouting from outside the wagon. She and her mother arranged to have her travel as a passenger in a caravan, which both ladies were assured was safe.

Apparently not.

More shouting.

Getting closer…

“Everyone out! Hand over your valuables! Do this and no one dies!”

Oh gods. Please. I don’t want to die…

Ilona squeezed her eyes shut, silently saying a prayer to any deity who would listen.

Please.

I want to live. I want to see my family again and go home and—

“DIE YOU FIENDS!” A baritone voice boomed, the sound of horses becoming louder by the second. “THE HELLRIDERS ARE HERE!”

Hellriders?

The Hellriders?

Swords clanging and bashing.

I-Is that a smite?!

“YOU WILL NEVER HARM A TRAVELER AGAIN, YOU BASTARD!” The same baritone voice shouted, prompting her to open her purple eyes. “I’ll check on the passengers!” Within moments, a young tiefling man with long blond hair and fire in his eyes looked over the shocked passengers. “My name is Lieutenant Zevlor of the Hellriders. You’re safe now. Is anyone hurt?”

Ilona caught his gaze, and she swore her heart skipped a beat. “Fine. I think we’re all alright, aren’t we?” Everyone nodded in response.

Zevlor smiled. “Good. I would ask you to remain calm. I’ll be back in a moment.” He turned and leapt from the wagon, walking ahead to the front of the caravan.

Lieutenant Zevlor.

The most beautiful, amazing, perfect man I’ve ever met.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

Everyone is expecting me to marry a dwarf---an ally of the clan ideally.

But what if…

“May I sit next to you, miss?”

Oh hells, it’s him!

Nodding quickly, Ilona watched as Zevlor sat next to her.

“Ready back here!” He shouted, and in a moment, they were moving again. Zevlor glanced down at Ilona, smiling warmly. “Don’t worry, miss. I’ll protect you all. No bandit is a match for me and my fellow Hellriders.”

She swallowed thickly and smiled in return. Though mine is probably a bit more nervous than his…oh gods. He’s so handsome. “Yes, I…I would think so since you just dispatched a bunch of them.” Ilona held out her hand. “Ilona Fairshield of Baldur’s Gate. Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant.”

He grinned but did not shake her hand. Instead, he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “A pleasure, Miss Fairshield. But please, call me Zevlor.”

Moving her hand back to her lap, she nodded. “Zevlor. That’s such a lovely name. And please, Ilona.” I think if he calls me Miss Fairshield again, I may melt.

“Ilona it is, my dear.” Zevlor said with a wink before turning his head to speak to another passenger.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The first handsome gentleman I see outside of the Gate, and I fall for him. Completely and utterly like the sappy romantic that Mum says I am.

***

“Lieutenant! A lady left a note for you!” One of the cadets shouted at Zevlor, whose party had returned from yet another bloody raid.

A lady?

Which lady?

He approached the cadet and was given the note.

Ilona Fairshield.

That sweet little lady with amethyst eyes.

“Thank you.” He said gruffly and as discreetly and quickly as I could walked to his quarters at the barracks. After he removed his armor and got down to his smalls, he opened the note.

Dear Zevlor,

I wanted to write to thank you once again for saving our lives. Having you with us made the journey a happier one.

I am staying with my aunt and uncle at the following address and will be employed at Fairshield Family Bakery. If you ever wish to call on me at either place, then it would be most welcome.

If, however, I misread any signals from you, then please disregard the latter half of this letter and accept my heartfelt apologies and thanks, again, for saving my life.

Best,

Ilona Fairshield

Several thoughts ran through Zevlor’s head:

I KNEW IT!

She likes me.

I like her.

She’s very sweet and funny.

She’s got great tits.

I must go see her.

He grimaced.

But not tonight.

Officers’ dinner with the commander.

But I can send a note…

He grabbed the nearest inkpot, quill, and paper and quickly wrote:

Dearest Ilona,

I will call upon you tomorrow, sweetheart.

Zevlor

***

“He’s here!” Cousin Yara called from downstairs. “Father wants to speak to him first before you go.”

Oh for fuck’s sake!

As quickly as she could descend the stairs without falling on my ass, she approached her uncle as he reached for the front door. “What do you mean to say to him?”

Andrick gave her a cold stare. “That in our clan we don’t marry outside our race. It’s fine if you two want to be friends but calling on you as a suitor is not appropriate.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m twenty-five. Legally an adult. My parents promised me a love match, which you are very much aware of, Uncle. Lieutenant Zevlor is a fine gentleman and soldier who saved my life and the lives of my fellow travelers. Treat him with respect. Please.”

Mum always said never to be afraid to speak your mind.

His gray eyes narrowed. “How dare—”

Andrick suddenly stopped speaking when he saw his sadly still ill wife open the door, smiling at Zevlor, wearing a white shirt, waistcoat, trousers, and boots. “Good evening, Lieutenant. Welcome to my home. I’m Rena Fairshield, and I hear you’re taking my niece out tonight.”

Thank you, Auntie.

Zevlor bowed to her. “Thank you, Madam. And yes, that is correct. I wish to show your lovely niece some more of the city.” He glanced at Ilona and winked. “She’ll be safe in my company, I assure you.”

That’s it, Lieutenant. Charm the pants off them. Well, charm them to get me to take my pants off? But I’m not wearing pants I’m wearing a dress…oh fuck it.

“I—” Her uncle began but was silenced again by his wife.

“I hope you both have a pleasant evening. Come, Andrick. Sit with me awhile.” She tugged on his arm, and he reluctantlyfollowed her.

Ilona grinned and quickly stepped outside and closed the door behind her. Zevlor got on one knee and opened his arms, which she without any thinking at all goodness me leapt into him. “Hello.” She giggled, giving him a peck on his oh dear he is blushing so much cheek.

“Hello, my dear.” Zevlor drawled. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

She blushed. “Have you now?”

“I have.” After kissing her cheek once more, he rose and offered his hand. “Ready to see Elturian nightlife, Ilona?”

She took his hand, watching as he effortlessly crossed in front of her and down the two steps to the sidewalk. He’s helping me down the bloody stairs. How is he real?!?!? Ilona giggled nervously. “Goodness, you’re…you’re…so…” Perfect. Amazing. Wonderful. “Gentlemanly.”

Really?

That’s the best I could do?

“I mean, you’re—”

Once she stepped onto the sidewalk, he got on one knee again, taking both her hands in his. When she looked into his eyes (those flames…beautiful flames…) she did not see the cockiness and self-assurance when he was speaking to her aunt and uncle. He’s…soft. Vulnerable. “Is it too much? If it is, then please say so. I don’t wish to offend.”

“No, no! I’ve…honestly, you’re the first man to ever flirt with me, so I’m sorry if I’m acting like a silly schoolgirl.” Ilona whispered. Maybe the ground will swallow me whole?

“Please don’t apologize. You’re worth my every attention. My every affection.” He kissed each hand and then got to his feet. “But should you ever feel uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to tell me. I’ll not have my lady be so nervous around me that she looks as if she wishes to flee.” He then laughed, bent to kiss her curly reddish-brown hair and guided her towards his favorite restaurant so I’m told. It’s traditional Elturian tiefling cuisine, which I’ve never had.

This is the start of something marvelous, isn’t it?

***

“Wait!”

Zevlor stopped touching my very beautiful Ilona and froze. “What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?”

Shit. I should’ve blunted my nails. Godsdamnit.

She blinked. “No! No, no. I just…could we…ummm…blow out the candles before we go any further?” Her expression (joyful a moment ago) was now forlorn.

With a clawed finger, he tilted her chin upwards. “Why would we do that? I want to see you, pulchra.”

She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths before speaking again. “I-I know, Zev. But I’m just a fat little dwarf, and you’re—”

A deep, guttural growl emerged from the tiefling, the fire in his eyes burning more intensely. “You are my fat little dwarf.”

Don’t scare her away! What are you doing, you love-addled fool?

“I am?” She chuckled breathlessly, her perfect body relaxing once more. His other hand settled on her soft waist, kneading her through her nightgown.

Stay calm, Zevlor. Be calm.

“If you wish to be, Ilona, then…”

It was one of the few moments of Zevlor’s life when his words deserted him.

Her purple eyes twinkled as she giggled. “If I’m your fat little dwarf, love, then what am I going to call you in return?” She gently moved his hand away and then, to his shock, pulled her nightgown over her head. Ilona crossed her arms over her generous bosom and blushed.

“Call me,” he murmured, a smile tugging on his lips. “Your most devoted supplicant. Your knight in shining armor.” Zevlor uncrossed her arms and cupped her perfect, large, so fucking soft breasts. “Your man…” His tail wrapped around her waist. “Who loves you and wants to make you feel good…”

“Zev…”

With one last squeeze of her breasts, he kissed her suddenly, swallowing her sweet little moans. His tail released her, and he stood quickly, shucking off his trousers and no smalls. I never wear smalls.

Her mouth hung open as she stared at his manhood. “Well fuck, Zev---how’s that thing going to get in me?!”

He raised a teasing eyebrow. “Very carefully.”

“Naughty!” Ilona giggled, watching Zevlor crawl over her. He was lean but muscled, defined but not overly so. She’s perfect. His face was barely an inch above hers when she reached for him, sighing, “Won’t you kiss me, love?”

He planted a sweet kiss on her lips before trailing several more down her jaw and neck. “Always, pulchra…my lady…my love…my queen…”

Waking gods, hear me---let me spend every day and night with her until I draw my last breath.

***

Ilona stared at her reflection in the mirror as she applied her lipstick.

Everything must be perfect.

Zevlor’s taking me to the annual Hellrider Ball.

He’s going to look so handsome and dashing in his dress uniform, while I hopefully don’t make a fool of myself.

Her aunt very, very, very generously paid for a dark blue gown, matching flats, and earrings for her to wear.

I hope he likes it…because I love it. I feel pretty for the first time in my life.

But more than that, I love that I’m going to be with him.

Zevlor’s reaction to her was everything she hoped for and more. So much more. They had agreed to meet at the venue, and when he saw her, he got on one knee and bowed his head.

“A goddess walks among us tonight,” he whispered, kissing the back of her hand. “And I daresay I am the lucky man who will be at her side.” He reached into a pocket and held a small box in his hand. “For you, darling. A sign of my eternal devotion.” Opening the box, she gasped at the decorated locket. Fuck me, how much did this cost?!

She then opened it. A lock of his hair and a portrait. Oh gods. We truly are courting, aren’t we? Ilona blinked back tears. “It’s so beautiful, Zev. I love it. I shall treasure it forever. Will you…?” Hastily handing him the locket, she turned and allowed him to drape the locket at the top of her bosom and close the clasp. “I love it.” She spun to face him, her lips crashing into his. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“And I love you, pulchra. Now that I’ve greeted you properly,” he just winked and pinched my ass!!!! “Let’s go inside.” Zevlor rose and took her hand, holding it gently in his. “You’re going to be the belle of the ball, my dear. Everyone is going to ask to dance with you.” He whispered in an excited but also there’s some hint of…jealousy in there?! ZEV?!?!

She laughed and squeezed his hand. “Well, it’s a good thing the only person I want to dance with is you, love.”

That seemed to soothe him as he nodded. “I only wish to dance with you too, darling. However, as an officer it will be expected of me to have dances with certain people.”

Okay? Sure? “That’s fine. I imagine being an officer means you have to woo people and be social and such.” I guess?

Once again, he nodded, giving the butler his name and hers so they could be introduced. He then glanced down at her and rolled his eyes. “You have no idea. When we are called, we’ll enter, stop, you nod, I salute, and then follow me. Alright?”

Holy shit, no wonder he’s an officer. She giggled and gave him a little salute. “Yes, saer!”

“Lieutenant Zevlor and Miss Ilona Fairshield!”

After he saluted and she nodded politely like how a lady should I suppose, he guided them towards a very sour-looking older tiefling in uniform.

“Commander, may I introduce Miss Fairshield? Darling, this is my commander---Rask.” Zevlor was charming as ever.

However, Rask was less so. “Zevlor, I thought you were courting a young tiefling lady. After all, there are none better than our queens.”

Uh oh. Not good. Not good at all.

The younger man puffed his chest and scowled. “There is none better than Miss Fairshield. With all due respect, commander---I would’ve hoped that a man of your years and reputation knew how to treat a lady. Please excuse us.”

UH OH.

As they walked to the other side of the ballroom, he kept a firm grip on her hand. “I’m sorry, darling. I had no idea Commander Rask would react in such a way. I’m…I’m so ashamed and embarrassed. How dare he treat you in such a way!”

“Zevlor, please don’t be upset. Don’t let him ruin our evening when it’s barely begun.” She glanced at the dessert table and gestured to it. “All that looks awfully tasty. Can you get us a plate and meet me outside on the balcony, love?”

The fire in his eyes, both physical and metaphorical, dimmed as he exhaled a long-held breath. “Of course, sweetheart. I’ll be there presently.”

He stayed by my side the rest of the evening.

We had a few dances. He swept me off my feet.

And then after the ball, he swept me into his bed!

***

To Zevlor, the seven months he spent with Ilona were pure bliss.

Then a series of events changed everything.

First, an encounter with raiders went badly, killing two of Zevlor’s soldiers.

Then, Ilona’s aunt passed away, succumbing to her illness.

Which then resulted in her uncle telling her, “Your help is no longer needed. Return to Baldur’s Gate.”

At the same time, Zevlor’s transfer request was refused.

When Ilona left for Baldur’s Gate, the couple promised to write.

What neither of them knew was that her uncle, acting on behalf of the clan elders, and Commander Rask conspired to thwart the couple. Any letters from Ilona to the barracks where Zevlor was stationed would be destroyed as would his letters to her.

I don’t want to let her go…

But if she truly does not wish to…then I must…

I’ll find someone else…eventually…perhaps…

She probably met someone else…

[letters-from-dekarios]

(Your first letter was so brilliant! Cackled the whole time I was reading it 😂 I believe Dreuer deserves the right to reply as well so… here we are.)

[A package wrapped in brown paper arrives at Gale’s Blackstaff study. Within, there are many manuscripts in a very questionable order, with no real filing system in play.

Though Gale is well aware of his husband’s lack of organisational skills by now, this is perhaps a new level of disorganisation. This is the tiefling’s first academic field study and it shows. By the gods, it shows.

On top of this pile of chaos is a note, handwritten and lightly crinkled.]

“Gale;

Please find attached my updated field notes with regards to my ongoing research. I have included several documents pertaining to illusory magic that made me think of you.

Need I remind you that cutting paper with a dagger dulls the blade more than carving through bone. Given the typical use of a dagger, it does not seem prudent to dull its edge performing mundane office work when it should be cutting flesh and sinew.

As for the medicines, I warned you. I told you buying those extravagant dyes in Amn was silly.

If you have used my expectorant to dye your new robes I shall be very annoyed.

Conversely, if you have used fabric dye to treat a cough I am delighted that you have found a charming new colour for your innards. Congratulations my love. I hope it’s purple.

I will begin my return journey back to Waterdeep within the coming tenday. If you require anything from the libraries do inform me before this time is out, I will not linger here waiting for you to make up your mind.

I do so miss you, my love.

Dreuer.

Ps. Kindly inform Tara that we now have a dog named Arnold.”

Lovely Dreuer,

Attached is a “how-to” on filing and note-taking for intensive studies. Written in Gale’s neatest handwriting, signed off with a ‘Please attempt to use this.’

My dearest. While I do greatly appreciate your updated studies and will do well to decode the wonderful mess you sent me, I request that you try your hand at a filing system. I’ve come up with a quite simple system we can implement when you return. You know how much I adore you but this is going to make me pull out my hair. And I quite like my hair the way it is.

Well, perhaps the dagger would prefer to be used for mundane office work rather than the gruesome act of murder. Have you ever tried to speak with the dagger and see how it feels on the matter? Perhaps both of us are wrong and we’ve separated it from its family.

As stated in my previous letter, I am choosing to not elaborate on the manner. You will see for yourself when you return. Though I will inform you, your expectorant is in fine condition.

I look forward to your return home. It is getting awfully lonely here and Tara has been badgering me incessantly. I do request you bring home any information you can find regarding “lost” spells. I’m beginning a research project to potentially revive spells mentioned and used in previous decades, but that have not been passed onto the newer generations of spell-casters. Anything you find will help. Thank you, love.

Enjoy your final days of your studies, it will serve you well when you return. Perhaps we can take another journey there together sometime soon.

Until the end of time,

𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔

P.S. Tara is quite definitely the opposite of thrilled! Perhaps we can make Arnold sentient enough to interact in a general level with her? I’ll begin looking into that.

text reads: gale dekarios

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Mirror, Mirror

Astarion's a vampire spawn and hasn't seen his reflection in two hundred years. And suddenly, he's facing a doppelgänger – and is stunned.

Trigger warning: slight angst, the feels, fluff, canon-typical violence, character study, emotional rollercoaster, talking it out, no sex

I just wanted to write something sweet and wholesome, and finally address the missed opportunities in the game where Spawn!Astarion could comment on his look, or something could be done to show him how he looks like (e.g. the painter at Waukeen's Rest, the doppelgänger in Shar's Gauntlet, the marble statue that can be bought at the circus, missed opportunity to give a Bard-Tav the option to draw Astarion, or for Sorcerer/Wizard-Tav & Gale to cast mirror image for him, make Orin turn into him while he's there, for e.g. before fighting her in the Bhaal temple, and then he could comment on it after defeating her, etc.). C'mon, Larian! You're so detailed otherwise!

Also, it's my birthday month, so I decided to spoil you all with a couple more fics than usual. Enjoy :)

The air in the Gauntlet of Shar was cold and heavy, smelling nauseatingly strongly of frankincense. Astarion couldn't help but wrinkle his nose, willing himself consciously to stop breathing. Nevertheless, the smell of Shadowheart's blood wafted over to him as she let it drip into the offering bowl for her goddess.

Shar... Astarion snorted. He didn't understand the cleric's blind devotion to the Lady of Loss. No deity cares about lowly creatures like dwarves, elves, halflings, humans, and tieflings. All they do, is demand loyalty and sacrifices, but show neither help nor mercy in return.

Irritated, Astarion glared at Shadowheart again and then at Gale. The cleric with amnesia and the wizard with a magical time bomb stuck in his chest. Great. Just great. Where were their gods now?

The vampire spawn sneered at his own thought, instinctively baring his sharp fangs at imaginary enemies. Tav shot him a questioning look. He just shrugged with a blasé attitude. Still, Astarion followed her, Shadowheart, and Gale into the room to face the last of Shar's trials with them. As soon as they'd entered, iridescent clouds appeared in front of them and started taking shapes.

"Doppelgänger!" Tav shouted, raising her shortsword against her double.

Immediately, a fight broke out. The bard spewed vicious insults and attacked with her blade, while the wizard cast fireballs and magic missiles, and the cleric swung her mace. The vampire spawn, however, was frozen in place, staring at the pale elf in front of him.

That's me, he realised, almost shocked, as he kept staring in disbelief.

The man who faced him was lithe and slender, holding himself in an elegant but slightly haughty way, even in his battle stance. There was a mocking sneer on his oval face, pearly white fangs glinting in the sickening purple light. The ruby red eyes flashed with hatred and anger. The white curls were perfectly styled and beautifully settled around his face and pointy ears.

Scary, Astarion thought. Uninviting. But at the same time... tempting. Beautiful. Compelling. Irresistible.

He frowned. Did he really look like this? Were his smile lines really that prominent? Was he truly –

The vampire spawn's whirling thoughts came to an abrupt stop when his doppelgänger leapt forwards and buried the dagger in his chest. Astarion doubled over, gasping in pain and surprise, as he kept staring at his mirror image.

It had been two hundred years since he'd last seen himself. It had been so long, he'd forgotten how his own face looked like. He'd been longing for this moment.

"Astarion!" Tav cried from somewhere. He had no idea where she was, too disoriented by the pain and too distracted by his own image.

His doppelgänger smirked at him, twirling the dagger between the slender fingers. Show-off.

Gale appeared behind that thing that wore Astarion's face and hit it with a Shocking Grasp. The vampire spawn saw his own pretty face twist into a grimace before it dropped to its knees. Gale attempted another spell, taking a breath to cast it, when, suddenly, he gasped instead and almost keeled over.

"Gods!" he groaned as he pressed a hand to his chest. Bright purple light flashed between his fingers and Gale yelled, pained. Shar's dark chuckle echoed across the room, reminding them all that they're only allowed to attack their own doppelgänger and not those of others. And now, the wizard paid the price for his kind-heartedness. Astarion felt a bit bad for him.

The incident had shaken him out of his frozen position though, allowing the vampire spawn to smoothly slit his double's throat. The thing wearing his face disappeared and Astarion was almost sad about it. The sharp pain in his chest reminded him of the injury and he winced. Nevertheless, he turned to check on Gale. Tav kneeled next to the wizard, her hand pressed onto his chest. She was pacifying the orb with a magical artefact. Gale was breathing heavily, with a scrunched up face, clearly in pain and trying to regain mental calmness to keep that damn orb from erupting. Although it wasn't directed at him, Tav's gentle humming had a soothing effect on Astarion. The latter sighed and lifted his palm from the wound on his chest. Thanks to his vampiric traits, it had already started to heal. Astarion was still grateful that Shadowheart blessed him with a healing spell.

As they left the hall – Tav supporting Gale who's legs were still shaky – the vampire spawn said: "Thank you, Gale. For helping me. It was very... kind."

The addressed gave him a tired smile.

"You're welcome, Astarion. That's what companions are for."

"Right," the vampire spawn muttered. "Companions."

The word 'friends' hung in the air unspoken.

The group made their way back to camp. Nobody mentioned Astarion's unprofessional slip-up. They all knew why it had happened.

The vampire spawn spent the entire night trying to remember every single, little detail of that creature's – his – face. The memory was already slipping again and Astarion mourned the loss of it for the second time in his life.

It had been almost seven years since then, and much had changed.

The Shadow-Curse was lifted, Cazador was dead, and Astarion lived in Waterdeep with his wife – Tav – and his husband – Gale – and their dear friend Shadowheart – who's married to Tav –, working as a tailor.

Astarion was still a vampire spawn, but thanks to Tav's generous gift, a Sun-Walker ring, he wasn't restricted in his activities. The only thing was... He still had no reflection.

Sometimes, he longed to see himself in a mirror, longed for a bit of vanity bestowed by a mirror. But Astarion could manage. After more than two hundred years, he was a pro in styling himself blindly and without any help. He knew he was perfect – and eternally beautiful. Still... Some days, it just hit him and he felt melancholic. Today was one of those days.

Astarion sighed again as he stared into the mirror next to his work desk. No reflection. But the baby blue dress in his lap looked gorgeous, of course. The vampire spawn turned towards the approaching footsteps and shortly after, Gale appeared at the stairhead.

"Hello, darling." Astarion couldn't prevent the smile from spreading across his face. "Need something?"

The addressed chuckled, replying: "Shouldn't that be my line? I simply felt the need to check on you and to make sure you're alright. It's been hours since I've last seen you."

Astarion laughed and cooed teasingly. He adored this ridiculous, nerdy, infuriating wizard.

"Look at you! As soon as I'm busy for a few hours, you start to worry, but woe betide me for the same behaviour when it comes to you. Do you see the irony, darling?"

"Hm. Yes." Gale frowned. "I don't like it."

Astarion snickered gleefully and placed the dress he'd been working on on the table. He sauntered over to his husband now, hips swaying and predatory smile in place. He leaned in to steal a passionate kiss. Gale was more than willing to provide, sighing happily and running his fingers through the vampire spawn's hair. But when they parted, he frowned again.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Don't worry, darling."

"Your face tells a different story."

Astarion gasped in mock-offence.

"Don't you dare! My face is perfect!"

"Naturally, but you –"

"What's wrong with my face?!"

"Well, firstly, you –"

"No, don't tell me!" Astarion waved about with his hand hastily. "Just tell me I'm beautiful."

The wizard sighed deeply, but he complied.

"It's a good face. You're beautiful, Astarion. But you look sad. I'm not as well-versed at reading your body language as Tav, and without the mental tadpole-link connection or a 'Detect Thoughts' spell I'm hamstrung. I don’t know what’s wrong, and if you don't tell me, I can't help you and I don't know what to do." Gale looked at his lover beseechingly. "Please, Astarion, tell me what's on your mind and how I can help you."

The addressed stayed quiet for a while, then, he sighed.

"It's nothing really. It's... It's stupid."

"It can't be 'nothing' if it's on your mind for so long," Gale replied, ever helpful. It made Astarion smile and gave him the courage to finally tell the truth.

"I want to see my face. I miss my reflection."

"Oh." Gale blinked at him. "Why didn't you just say so? I can cast a mirror image for you immediately."

He raised his arms, the magic words already forming on his tongue.

"No!"

Astarion slapped a hand over the wizard's mouth and grabbed his arm with the other.

"I'm – I'm not ready yet. I – I'm scared" he admitted, ashamed.

Gale gently removed his husband's hand from his mouth and kissed his knuckles before letting go of it and asking: "Why are you scared?"

"What if –" Astarion huffed, irritated at himself. "What if I don't like what I see? What if the man in the mirror's nothing like I remember him? I'm undead for over two hundred years and I've changed. Not only to the better, I must admit. There's almost nothing left of Astarion Ancunin, Baldurian magistrate, and heir of the Ancunin family. I'm... different now."

He stared at the floor with tears of anger in the corners of his eyes.

"Astarion." Gale stroke a thumb across the elf's cheek. "My dear." The wizard smiled. "You're my husband and I dare to argue that I know you rather well. You're wonderful, Astarion. A good person with a kind heart –" The vampire spawn made a face at that and Gale chuckled before he continued. "– a gracious lover, an excellent husband, an elegant elf, and... a beautifully scary vampire."

"I'm a spawn," countered Astarion on autopilot and Gale chuckled again.

"Apologies, my dear. You're a beautifully scary vampire spawn. And I love you oh so much."

Astarion swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and blinked away the tears that threatened to spill over.

"I love you too," he croaked out.

The wizard brushed a white curl behind the elf's ear before kissing his forehead. The latter closed his eyes. He was still reeling from the fact that his spouses were so gentle with him. He'd been deprived from tenderness for so long that it had started to scare him. He's gotten better about that though.

Astarion opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and said: "I'm ready. Show me."

Gale gave him a nod and cast a mirror image. The vampire spawn gasped and stared. And stared and stared. So, that was him. Astarion. The pale elf. The free vampire spawn. Husband of Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep and Tav Sionnach. Fascinating.

Astarion circled around the image, taking everything in. It felt odd. Wrong somehow. He wrinkled his nose.

"Hm."

"What is it?"

"Oh, I don't know. It feels much less exciting than back at Shar's temple when we'd fought our doppelgänger. It's less of a shock too. And somehow –" Astarion turned around to look at Gale "– somehow, I don't feel the need to see myself anymore."

"Oh?" Gale looked surprised. "But I thought –"

"Yes, darling, me too. But it seems like it doesn't make me happier to be able to look at my face. After all –" The vampire spawn grinned, flashing all his teeth. " – I know I'm beautiful."

The wizard laughed, loud and genuine, and Astarion joined him. Gale's concentration waned and the mirror image disappeared. The vampire spawn wrapped his arms around his husband's neck and smiled.

"Thank you, my love. For indulging me."

"Always," answered the wizard truthfully.

Their kiss was sweet and slow. Something to savour and to remember. When they're resting their foreheads together, Astarion whispered: "Just be my mirror for me, will you?"

Smiling, Gale hummed.

"I will."

[britishassistant]

Gale’s Excellent Adventure

It is just Gale’s luck that the first time he leaves his tower in a year, he is immediately kidnapped by mindflayers.

He opens his eyes to find himself staring at one of the ghastly, squid-like creatures inserting one of its spawn into the pupil of a young tiefling next to him.

It turns back to the pool of liquid which houses its tadpoles—!

And then a thunderous blow rocks the vessel.

The mindflayer looks up in what Gale might suppose passes as panic for these creatures, then drifts out of the room at speed.

It doesn’t return.

Well, Gale reflects with a sense of mild anticlimax. He supposes that this is a net win for him! It’s good that the creatures haven’t had the chance to implant their spawn in him yet. Really, it is.

It just.

Feels a little like he’s been left out, is all.

And then the nautiloid splits apart as it plummets from the sky.

Thank My—the Gods it’s over Faerûn when it does. Even Gale doesn’t fancy his chances in Avernus.

However, in trying to save himself by reawakening an old teleportation point, he does manage to get himself lodged in a waypoint between the Weave and the Material Plane.

A little embarrassing, perhaps, but overall he’s thankful that he has all his faculties about him and his powers at his command to turn to this little inconvenience. Imagine if he’d gotten into this conundrum with a mindflayer tadpole on the brain as well! He can’t imagine that would be in any way conducive to problem solving.

It’s just as well, really. It is.

He’s most of the way to freeing himself when he senses something approach.

And well. He could do it without outside help, but where’s the sense in burning spell spots when some good old fashioned elbow grease can do the trick?

Desperately hoping it’s not another squirrel, Gale sticks his arm out the widening hole and waggles it around. “Hello? A hand, anyone?”

Something slaps it sharply.

This is good! he thinks as he yelps. That felt more like the fingers of a sentient being taking the piss rather than an owlbear about to maul him.

“Perhaps I should have clarified. A helping hand? Please?”

After a few awkward moments of waving his hand around in mid-air, he feels a warm, small pair endowed with sharp, sharp nails (Ow!) catch onto his wrist and start pulling.

He tries to lean into the pull, not entirely sure what else he can do other than shout encouragement as he gradually feels himself slipping back to the Material Plane.

His ejection may not be the most graceful, but at least he doesn’t lose his lunch like a novice.

A young tiefling stares up at him, flanked by a half-elf and a pale elf.

The same young tiefling, he notes, whom he had witnessed being infected with mindflayer spawn back on the nautiloid.

Ah. Well. Hm.

“Erm. Hello!” His mouth babbles without his full consent. “I’m Gale, of Waterdeep. Apologies, I’m usually better at this.”

“At introductions?” The young tiefling replies, one eyebrow raised.

He can’t quite help the sharp, nervous bark of laughter at that. “Sarcasm! Wonderful, wonderful stuff. Erm, no, but ah. Say, you were on the Nautiloid as well, weren’t you? I think I saw you receiving a rather, erm. Unwelcome insertion into the ocular region.”

The young tiefling grimaces slightly, eyes watchful and wary where they peek out from under an overgrown fringe.

“Oh, goody, we’ve found another one.” The pale, foppish elf pipes up. “Do you want to start on embroidering matching doublets or shall I?”

The half-elf in the purple tunic rolls her eyes. “Honestly, I wish we’d left you to the boars.”

The elf leans towards her, fluttering his eyelashes. “And deprive yourself of this face? Darling, you couldn’t.”

“Try me.” The half-elf snorts, before turning her gaze back to Gale. “But, my condolences for your experiences on that ship. I know I hardly found it pleasant.”

“Hm.” The tiefling hums, shifting their weight. Gale abruptly notices that they’re missing the tail usually sported by their kind and then has to make himself stop noticing. Tara will have his hide if he’s rude to the poor soon-to-be-mindflayer.

“While I couldn’t have phrased it any more repellently myself, it’s…good to meet another who’s survived that process.” They say, choosing their words carefully. “I don’t suppose you’ve any special information on what’s happening to us, or how to remove the damn things from our heads?”

Wait.

Hang on.

Do they think that Gale also has…?

Well. It’s understandable really. He was on the mindflayer ship, ergo he should be infected with a mindflayer parasite. A simple assumption. A correct one, had circumstances been a little different.

Gale is suddenly aware that he has two choices before him.

He can admit to the misunderstanding, apologize for it even. Send these lovely, if sadly infected people on their way to quest for a cure. Find the nearest center of civilization and see about preparing the components of a teleportation spell to get back to his tower. Go to his quarters, have a stiff drink or several, and wait for Tara to return with some more magical items to feed the orb while trying not to think about them. Never leave again until something thoroughly mundane and unremarkable bumps him off, leveling the Sword Coast along with his corpse. Perhaps a fish bone in his throat. Or tripping on the stairs.

Or…

Or.

“This insertee, we speak of, this parasite?” Gale says, trying to strike a balance between serious and glib. “Are you aware that after a period of excruciating gestation it will turn us into mindflayers?”

The tiefling snorts. “I am. Though the timing seems subject to debate. I saw a woman transform on the ship within seconds. That’s not normal, is it?”

Gale blinks, feeling his throat dry. Seconds? That’s…

“No, it most decidedly is not. Ceremorphosis usually takes place over seven days, altering the victim’s body to suit its new host. Hopefully that…anomaly was just a byproduct of proximity to the nautiloid and its nurseries, though that‘s hardly been documented in any studies on the subject…could it be that the creatures have…?”

“Quite.” The pale elf interrupts, “But what would you prescribe for dealing with our new guests?”

Gale shrugs. “You don’t happen to be cleric by any chance, do you? A doctor? Surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?”

The elf lets out a sultry titter of a laugh. “Only in matters of the heart, darling. I’m afraid I’m rather hopeless at all else.”

“And you seem to know enough about our condition to realize it is beyond most clerics’ skills.” The half-elf says sternly.

Gale gives his most charming smile. “Most, no doubt. But I find myself hoping that I may be in the presence of the few. You don’t happen to be one of them?”

The half-elf’s lips twist, and she shakes her head. When he looks to the young tiefling (they can’t be more than seventeen, poor thing), they shrug.

“Hardly. I was going to ask you the same question.”

“We’re most certainly going to need a skilled healer,” Gale lies. “And soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more, and look for a healer together?”

The three of them share a wary glance.

Gale tries not to look too hopeful.

He does feel a bit of a scoundrel, lying to obviously sick people like this. It’s just—! He’s an archmage, one of Mystra’s former chosen. Surely if anyone can help these poor people find the aid they need, it’ll be him? If nothing else, he can provide knowledge, protection in battle, moral support? Maybe even study their condition a bit, see if there’s any truth to what the tiefling said about that instantaneous transformation. For three mindflayer infectees, they all look and sound remarkably lucid, nary a damp brow or the haze of fever among them. And—

And, damn it all, but Gale’s been miserable up in his tower. Not that Tara isn’t fine company, but Mystra was his entire world. And with her gone, he’s felt. Lost. Purposeless. And that’s even without the orb burning within him. This, this is the chance to get away from all that. To have a real adventure, a proper one. Something to take his mind off things.

And he likes these people. He’s known them less than fifteen minutes, and maybe it’s the loneliness of a full year with only a tressym talking, but Gale feels as though he could bond with these folk, given half the chance. The pale elf is charmingly witty, the half-elf seems rather sweet beneath her cold exterior, and the tiefling rather puts him in mind of Tara when she was younger. He wants to get to know them all. He thinks he’d like to be their friend.

The tiefling lets out a small sigh, drawing him back to the present.

“Sounds like a plan. You’re welcome to join us, if you wish.”

“Most excellent!” Gale has to clear his throat slightly at the force of his excitement. “A parasite shared is a parasite halved. Or something to that effect.”

The tiefling raises an eyebrow at him, while the elf quirks a sardonic grin.

Gale feels his smile waver slightly before he rallies. “Oh! But before you think you’re about to embark on a journey with most ill-mannered a man: thank you, for pulling me out of that stone. It was an act of foresighted kindness, I assure you, for I have the feeling ample opportunities will present themselves for me to return the favor.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” The tiefling says, a small smile finally gracing their face. “I’m Yuu, of Elturel.”

At his blink, the pale elf exhales a laugh. “I know, I know, I had the exact same reaction darling. Strange names people give themselves around those parts, though of course it’s hardly a patch on Shadowheart.”

“Astarion.” The half-elf, presumably Shadowheart grits out.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Yuu claps their hands. “Tadpoles out first, then we can have all the debates about names we want. Let’s move.”

“But darling, even you must admit…!”

Gale grins as he follows, and tries not to feel too guilty.

[sadruru]

Well... As promised. Just some adorable babies from Mendev ❤

Keep scrolling and just look at the pictures, no more 🌚🌝 Otherwise you'll go crazy with my idea.

💖I warned you 💖

Actually, my friend convinced me to draw this and I got carried away.

A bit of a story from the future:

"The two amusing kids could sometimes be found on the streets of Kenabres, but especially in Nerosyan and Drezen. Judging by the way they were dressed, they came from well-to-do families, which was not reflected in their restless nature. The red-haired girl was running around town, laughing, crashing everything in her path and getting into all sorts of trouble. She was very emotional, strong and tough, had an incredible talent as a potential swordsman, though she denied it, and was eager to do creative things like painting, dancing and singing. However, all attempts turned out rather... “peculiar”." (Oh Shelyn save our eyes and ears PLEASE).

The tiefling boy with the mysterious look and golden eyes usually preferred to stay in the shadows, not attracting much attention, and from time to time practiced his skills and spells on random passersby. The boy had a talent for magic, but he was somewhat lazy and free-spirited to learn. But if he set himself a goal or task, he was sure to find a way to achieve it. Sometimes he vaguely reminded some of the inhabitants of Kenabres of someone just as cunning and tailed...

At first glance, the children seemed completely different and unlike each other. But it was not so, for the older sister and the younger brother were closely related not only to each other, but also to the two famous heroes of Mendev and the Fifth Crusade.

Surprising, huh?

It was difficult. They were supposed to have one child, the ideas kept bugging me. So... I took the easy way out and chose both! 🤣

The children will have a normal relationship with each other, they can quarrel, fight, then make up and play. Although the younger brother will always look out for his negligent older sister. I joked a long time ago that the purple and red pairing was missing the blue color. That's why the son turned out a little different. Well, I asked those familiar with the Pathfinder Rule book, and they told me that children from the same tiefling-parents can turn out completely different.

And my personal headcanon and why the girl is a redhead... I think if Woljif wasn't a tiefling, he'd be a freckled redhead too ;D The game doesn't tell you about the appearance of Woljif's parents, and his grandma was already gray-haired.

Maybe Woljif and Melissa won't be perfect parents, but at least they try and know what not to do 🗿

That's it.

[thetalltranstiefling]

I WROTE A THING POST-S2 ENDING BYE

(tw: brief self-harm, severed limb mention, death mention)

“Fuck off.”

The words Taylor said to Nicky when it was all over. “You’re a loser. Go away. You’re not a part of this family.”

And those are the words Nicky hears in his head as he’s kneeling in the flaming pit of Hell, watching his mage hand cut off his remaining arm over, and over, and over again before it regrows no problem. 

Another voice rings out, of a much younger child wishing to please his father. “Y’know what would fix this, man? Some weed, dawg. That always makes Dad feel better, right?”

It’s accompanied by a third, flat and perfectly consonated. “Have you no sense? That won’t solve anything. Listen to me instead, my Dad says-“

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” Nicky slams the flat of the sword into his own head, hard. Enough to knock him over into the ashes of his discarded limbs, all parts of him, but broken and disconnected. The ringing in his ears drowns all the voices out, letting him think for a bit. Kind of. 

He realizes at a certain point, lying with all these shattered pieces of the past he once was, that the ringing is no longer coming from his ears, but instead from his pocket. His phone. He pulls it out and clears his throat before answering, not even bothering to check who it is because 90 percent of the time it’s Glenn butt-dialing him. But instead of the drunken slurring and usual crashing sounds he’s expecting, he hears the voice of someone who knows him all too well.

“Hey…it’s Cass…” is all she says.

Nicky wants to cry and start rambling on about how good it is to hear her voice and how much he misses her but he chokes it down and just responds, “Hi Cass…it’s Nicky.” God she knows that you sound so dumb she’ll think you’re drunk and hang up!

“Can we just talk?”

She didn’t hang up. Nicky sits up, “yeah, we can talk…” He climbs out of the pit of severed arms to sit on the edge, looking down into it. “…what do you wanna talk about..?”

Cassandra sighs, watching through the window of her house as Taylor leaves for Norm’s house, where they’re having tapas to celebrate the win. She promised to join up with him, but… “I just… You never really told me why exactly you left. -I mean I kind of have a general idea. It’s not because you didn’t love me or Taylor, or anything like that. I know that… I guess, ‘for your safety,’ isn’t really a good enough answer for me. I think I have a right to know the full story.”

“Of course, yeah, of course you do… Well I… Uh,” Nicky doesn’t even really know where to begin. “Well… Long story short, I’m a tiefling from Hell- you know that-“ he has a brief flashback from their first meeting, swords flying, “yeah, and, the guys wanted to do the whole Code Purple thing on Hell, and I told them no, and Terry shot my arm off, and it didn’t come back ever-“

“Yeah, severed limbs don’t tend to,” Cassandra flexes the robotic hand she recently got calibrated. 

“Yeah…”

“Okay, but that doesn’t answer the question.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m getting there, I didn’t mean to end there- fuck I’m messing this up, I’m sorry-“

“Nicky.”

His voice cracks a little and he hates it, “yeah?..”

“It’s okay. Just slow down. Take some deep breaths.”

“Okay.”

“Do you need me to count?”

“No…”

She knows he’s lying. “Breathe in. One, two, three. Breathe out.”

She hears him exhale on the other side. “Good. Again.” They do this a few more times before she says, “now I’m assuming after that fight with your friends was when you came home.”

“Right…” Nicky remembers standing there in the doorway, Cass coming from the other room holding little Taylor, big grey eyes looking at him, oblivious to what was happening. “Not you, loser.”

“Why didn’t you stay?” Cassandra’s voice pulls him from his thoughts again.

“Why didn’t I stay,” he repeats to himself. Why didn’t I? Why didn’t I? I could’ve chosen to stay and protect them. I could’ve fought for us. I could’ve changed. So why didn’t I..? 

…

“Because I didn’t want to be for you and Taylor, what my mom was, to my dad, and me…” Nicky only realizes what this means as he says it. “Cass, I- I was worried that there was a chance that I couldn’t protect you, that I’d die trying. And then I’d be gone and that’d be it- not that I’m scared of dying, I just- I saw firsthand what a death in the family can do, the rift it creates. I experienced it. What it did to me, and what it did to my dad. That is what made me who I am-“

Part of you, Nicholas’ voice says. Never whole, only part.

“Shut up, I’m talking,” Nicky hisses back, then panics, “oh god, Cass, sorry I didn’t mean you-“

“I know. It’s okay.” Nicky remembers with a wince the time he told her about the voices. “Please, continue.”

“…I’d rather that you have a deadbeat husband who was horrible and who left you than a good one who you miss. And I’d rather that you be angry at me than grieve the loss of a love-“

“But I did grieve over you!” She shouts suddenly, and it breaks Nicky’s heart how upset she sounds. “Every single day I did, for a long long time! Because you were my husband, and Taylor’s father, and I loved you more than anything! And every day I hoped you’d come back! And that’s your problem, you have no sense of your own worth! You think you’re worth more to me dead than alive?! Really? Are you fucking serious?!”

“Cass-“ Nicky can’t hold in the tears anymore, he holds the phone away from his head so she won’t hear him sob, only to pull it back to his ear as soon as he hears any sound from the other end.

“Nicky, I trusted you to come back. And you didn’t. But that’s not even what I’m upset at you for anymore, I’ve had plenty of time to be upset at you for that. The reason I yelled- which I’m sorry for- is because I am frustrated that even after all this time you’re still so focused on your hate for yourself and this whole complex you have about ‘always screwing things up,’ that you can’t pay attention to the things around you that would fix that. You know you can talk to me about anything, and in this case some communication about how you were feeling would’ve really been helpful-“

“But I didn’t know.”

“You would’ve figured it out a lot sooner.”

Nicky goes silent, he can’t argue with that.

“Listen, if you’re going to be a part of this family still, you need to start working on how you think about yourself.”

“What- what?” Nicky’s tail slaps the ground behind him repeatedly in surprise. “But Taylor said-“

“Taylor, well, you know how he is.”

“I kind of still don’t…” Nicky admits, defeated.

“Well, he’s not the kind of person to always say exactly what he means. He’s a little ‘delulu,’ as he likes to say.”

“‘Delulu’..?”

“It just means he’s in his own little world, an anime world. And I’m sure you know animes are..?”

“Very dramatic?”

“Yes. That’s Tay for you. Very dramatic. He gets it from me I think.”

“You’re not that dramatic.”

“Well I’m an actor, so, I certainly can be.” Cass laughs a bit, and Nicky’s glad she’s not there to see him melt at the sound. “My point is, he’ll come around, if you make an effort to change.”

“…And what about you?”

“Why do you think I called, dummy? We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I didn’t love you anymore.”

“Ah…that makes sense…How badly did I freak you out when I showed up at your door that one time?”

“Well I was startled considering you were banging on the window frantically, but if I’m being honest I almost let you in.”

Nicky laughs, “at least I’ve still got some rizz left.”

“It had nothing to do with rizz! I wanted to smack you!” 

They continue talking about this or that, nothing all that important. But it’s thanks to Cassandra jamming her foot into the crack, that the slammed door does not stand completely closed.

[spiritsong]

writer vs. oc

Thank you for the tag @dolceaspidenera <3 this was fun!!!

picrew here

top left to bottom right ->

yours truly (they/she/he)

(tav!)Aune, Sword Dancer of Eilistraee aka bard-cleric (she/her or whatever you prefer)

durge!Aune, beloved and tortured spore druid (she/her or whatever you prefer)

Lethe, the Feylost, sweet and mischievous archfey warlock (they/he/she)

Vir, my Elturian tiefling ranger (he/him). I haven't talked about him here but he's from a multiplayer pt! pretend the bear is his boar companion, Goodberry

had to include Eleneva, my Surana from DA:O (she/her). girl I miss you but bg3 is my life rn sorrryyyyyy 😭 she's grumpy 24/7 (forever flicking off the Circle ALL MY HOMIES HATE KINLOCH HOLD fr fr). but she's got a death grip on that rose from Alistair

there was no purple skin for Lethe??!? which was a travesty so I edited the colors and then got carried away and edited skin colors for nearly everyone because they weren't quite dark enough/the right tone. also eye colors for some. and the silver for durge!Aune's hair. oops

tagging (as always don't feel any obligation to do it, but if you do, I'd love to see <3 include yourself or don't, include bg3 OCs and/or others, whatever you want): @bhaalsdeepbat @dragon--sage @witch-from-a-block-of-flats @justabiteofspite @birb--birb