#i should make another half drow.... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thechaoticdruid · 11 months ago

Text

[We'll Protect Each Other]

Paring: F!Tav x Astarion

Plot: While staying at an inn in the Underdark an unfortunate chain of events forces Tav and Astarion to protect one another.

Content Warnings: Fiercely protective Tav, Tav uses She/Her pronouns, Tav is kinda feral and unhinged, blood, gore, threats of/ literal genital trauma, we are going game of thrones up in this bitch, sexual harassment, brief allusions to Astarion's trauma, violence, so much fucking violence, death, Tav is heavily based on my own Tav Winnie. Oh and a little fluff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tav hummed as she sat at the tavern table, glancing down upon the suspicious letter she'd received last night.

‘I'll see you soon, True Soul.’

Been a while since she was called that, almost everyone who had referred to her as a ‘true soul’ was dead now so being addressed as such was rather peculiar, but at the same time not completely unwelcome. Tav smirked slightly, the idea of a new foe to face sparked excitement. It had been so long since the human druid had a good fight. Since the defeat of the Elder Brain she'd been staying in the Underdark, looking after a horde of hungry vampire spawn. Her days weren't uneventful in the slightest, but gods did she miss adventuring.

Tav's lover was over at the bar getting the two something to drink. Since the Underdark has become home to seven thousand life-challenged individuals this particular inn had made preparations to feed them should any appear at the establishment. He tapped his claws on the table, waiting for the bartender to finish mixing up their beverages as an uneasy feeling coursed through his body. Astarion had felt unfamiliar eyes on him since he'd left to get him and his beloved some refreshments. His blood red eyes darted back and scanned the tavern. Tav was still waiting at their table and mostly all the other patrons there happened to be deep gnomes, all who seemed much more concerned with friendly banter. But then he spotted someone off in the corner. A tall half-orc whose eyes seemed trained on him. Astarion wasn't exactly sure how he didn't spot the big oaf sooner, usually he was far more perceptive than this, but perhaps his hunger had him quite distracted. The elven vampire tapped on the bar table impatiently wondering exactly what was taking the bartender so long.

Eventually the half-drow barmaid brought over the drinks.

��Sorry for the wait.” She said softly, “not used to preparing food for our night time visitors.” The half-elf handed him a cold mug of dessert wine and a warm mug of ethically precured lifeblood.

Astarion took the drinks before turning and making his way back. The half-orc then made his move, walking straight towards him.

“Have a drink with me, handsome?” The half-orc gave a flirtatious smile, making the elf internally sigh in annoyance.

“No, I think not. My partner is waiting for me, you see.” Astarion gave a forced smile before attempting to make his way back to Tav. A large green hand was placed on his shoulder.

“Come on! Surely you're not talking about the little rat’s nest of hair? Sweetheart, I could show you things that little human wench couldn't even dream of-”

The elf quickly slapped his hand away.

“Oh, I highly doubt you could show me anything I haven't already done myself. Now bugger off.” Astarion growled out the last part, barring his fangs at the orc before stomping off.

Tav glanced up as Astarion took a seat next to her. He had a look of discomfort on his face, but quickly bushed it off as he noticed her attention on him. “I'm back, my sweet.” Astarion smiled at Tav, setting their drinks down before planting a kiss on her cheek.

“You okay, doll? You seem uncomfortable.” Tav put her hand on his shoulder only to receive a small smile as his hand covered her own.

“I'm fine, love. Just a little annoyed by the wait is all.” Astarion squeezed her hand gently, not wanting her to worry.

“Okay….” Tav said before looked back down at the letter, taking a sip from the wine Astarion had brought her.

“What's that?” Astarion asked, sliding an arm over her shoulders before taking a sip from his own mug and internally sighing.

Rothé blood….

“Just an ominous threatening letter left by gods know who.” Tav said casually, nearly making Astarion spit out his blood.

“Ah darling, perhaps you should be a just little more concerned about this?”

“I'm not afraid. Let them come get me! I've been itching for a good fight for ages!” Tav clenched her fist, a wicked grin spread across her face.

“Oh Tav, you know what that bloodlust look does to me.~” Astarion flirted leaning closer against his love. “But maybe we should be at least a bit more careful?”

“We’ve dealt with plenty of baddies before, Star. It’ll be fine!” Tav insisted.

“Need I remind you that there are only two of us now since the others have all gone their separate ways.” Astarion sighed, “I just worry for you, my dear.”

“I know babe.” Tav planted a kiss on his cheek affectionately before saying,”I'll tell you what, once we get everything sorted out with the other spawn we'll recruit some new traveling companions and go after that ring of the sunwalker thing I heard about.” This brought a smile to the vampire’s lips.

Large footsteps were heard stomping over to the table. Astarion glanced up seeing the half-orc from before approaching them.

“Sorry about my behavior before sweetness. I've just never seen such a breathtaking looking creature such as yourself. So, how about you ditch the runt and i'll take you somewhere we can get you something better to drink…. Perhaps someone?~”

“Are you daft? I told you to bugger off!” Astarion snarled, glaring daggers at the large male. Astarion kept his arm around Tav in a protective manner, but it was more so for his own comfort truth be told. The half-orc was really making him uneasy. Tav could feel Astarion shake a little.

“Hey, no need to be like that, I just want a piece of that tight little elven as-” The half-orc was suddenly silenced by a scimitar pressed dangerously close to his groin.

“You really don't want to finish that sentence, big guy.” Tav said calmly, not even looking up at the green bastard. “You know I’ve been really itching to slit someone's throat lately, but you….I think I might have fun with you…” She said before finally turning her head towards him, a sadistic grin spread across her lips.

“Y-You better watch yourself y-you little b-b-bitch!” He whined out the last part feeling Tav press her blade harder against his clothed crotch.

“Oh I like this!” Tav breathed out, voice unhinged and full of bloodlust as the half-orc began to shake in terror. “A big stupid creep thinks he can push me around just because I'm small…It's almost cute how pathetic you are. I should cut you open and show everyone what you really are inside. A gutless coward!” Tav stared at him intensely. The wicked grin spread across her lips didn't falter even for a second, until eventually she sighed.

“But it'd be rude to get blood all over Lyn’s nice clean floors.” Tav said, speaking of the half-drow bartender. “So you're going to leave now and never come near my lover again, or I'll cut your cock off and shove it down your throat. Understand?” Tav spat, nearly stabbing the blade of her scimitar through the orc’s pants.

“Y-Yes m-ma’m!” The half-orc said in a high pitch tone.

“Good boy.” Tav pulled her blade back, “now get the fuck out of my sight.” She growled, causing the green creep to turn and make a run for it, slamming the door on his way out of the tavern. All the gnomes had seemed to halt their chatter and look over to the two lovers.

“Tav…” Astarion muttered in an irritated tone, “I didn't need you to defend me! I had that completely under control!” He fussed, clearly embarrassed because of the scene Tav had caused.

“I'm sure you did sweetie, but you can't just expect me to sit by and do nothing when some pervert keeps treating you like a piece of meat.” Tav said calmly.

“Darling that orc was huge! What if you hadn't been quick enough!? What if he comes back!?”

“Honey, I can literally turn into an owlbear.” Tav rolled her eyes. “I know you’re capable of kicking ass, Star. I have no doubt about that. But I don’t protect you because I think you're weak. I do it because I love you.” Tav said sweetly, placing her hand against his cheek. “And sometimes it's okay to need someone to protect you…” She looked down at his trembling hands. Fear began to stir in her gut, worried that he might have been triggered by the situation. Astarion simply place his hand over hers and relaxed into her touch.

“I know. I love you too…It's just…I want to be able to protect the both of us…” Astarion glanced off to the side.

“You can! Babe, you're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for! You practically carried our team the entire time we were worm brained!” Tav placed a second hand on the other side of his face. Astarion rolled his eyes with a slight smile.

“Gods Tav, you're such a bad liar.”

“I'm not lying!” Tav chuckled, “I'm pretty sure you have more kills than the rest of us combined! You're so stealthily and quick! The fuckers never saw it coming!”

“Well perhaps I could be willing to allow you to win this little debate. Granted you continue to list off all of my many talents, or you can just call me beautiful and we can head upstairs for the evening?”

“You're beyond beautiful, my Star.” Tav purred.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The night was quiet as Tav and Astarion rested on the top floor of the Inn. Both of them snug in their bed. Astarion always had a tendency to curl around Tav as she slept and he tranced. However, tonight Tav lay there, eyes wide open. Her mind for some reason wandering off to a memory brought on by today's events.

“I assume he belongs to you.” The drow’s eyes leered over Astarion lustfully as she spoke about his as if he was nothing but cattle.

“Excuse me? I don't appreciate you talking about my friend like he's a fucking piece of property.” Tav snapped, stepping in front of her companion protectively. Of course she'd see him that way. The drow treat all their men like cattle. The fact didn't make Tav any less insulted.

“Now now. No need to speak like that. I only wish to make a trade.” The drow said calmly, however her stare seemed to harden a little. “What is your name, spawn?”

“It’s Astarion but hold on!” Astarion put his hands up as if to keep some distance between him the drow.

“Astarion, I've dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a little girl.” She purred. Tav shot the drow a look which she ignored, red eyes locked on Astarion’s mouth.

“Let me get this straight, you want to be bitten?” Astarion asked, a look of confusion and disgust filled his face. Normally he would jump at a chance to sink his teeth into a willing person, hells part of him wanted to drain this bitch dry because of how she talked about him, but this drow pretty as she was her blood smelled worse than death itself! Just being in her presence was enough to make him want to gag!

“To feel my life’s essence slipping away, to dance on the edge of death, yes I want it.” She said, nearly swooning. “I'll even compensate you. A potion of legendary power. It's not for sale, but it's yours if you bite me.”

“I will have to decline.” Astarion said immediately.

“Excuse me? This is a once and a lifetime opportunity and you're squandering it!”

“I gave you my answer!” Astarion spat. The drow woman ignored him and immediately turned to Tav.

“Can't you talk some sense into your obstinate charge!?” She demanded.

“He said no. The hells do you not understand?” The druid snapped.

Gods, Tav couldn't help but think back to her first encounter with Araj the drow blood merchant. This incident today reminded her far too much of it. Except this time it might have been worse. The fucking orc actually tried to put his hands on him.

Tav furrowed her eyebrows and glanced back over to Astarion’s peaceful looking face. She knew he could handle himself in a fight, but the situation was different. These sorts of things really got to him. Tav ran her fingers gently through his hair. She needed to keep safe no matter what. Sleep took Tav eventually and she snuggled into her vampire’s embrace, enjoying the coolness of his skin. And for a while the two were at peace, blissfully unaware of what lurked in the shadows.

It was probably about midnight when Tav woke up. She whimpered and felt around the bed for her lover, only feeling emptiness in his place.

“Astarion?” Her eyes slowly blinked open and Tav sat up. She glanced around the room discovering the vampiric elf was nowhere in sight. She tried to rationalize that Astarion was probably just up and around since he didn't need as much rest as she did, but Tav couldn't help but feel anxiety creep its way into the back of her mind. She got to her feet before slowly feeling a dagger be pressed against her throat.

“Nice to see you again, true soul…” A familiar feminine voice spoke softly in Tav's ear, causing her to grit her teeth as she looked back.

“Araj? The hells are you doing all the way out here?” Tav sneered.

“I needed to see you again. I require your help.”

“I told you before, you aren't getting any more of my blood and if you even think of bringing up Astarion so help me-”

“This isn't about him, darling. This is about you. I am on the verge of something extraordinary, but I need one key ingredient. Your heart.” Araj slowly dragged the knife down her throat and down between her breasts.

Tav rolled her eyes before chuckling.

“Sweet, but you know I'm spoken for.” In a swift motion the druid slammed her foot down on the drow's own before grasping hold of her wrist and forcing the blade away from her body.

“You idiots! Get in here and help me!” Araj suddenly shouted, prompting the door to open, revealed two half-orc male’s and a female.

With them was Astarion bound with silver chains wrapped around his body. Cloth was tied around his mouth, preventing him from speaking, but Tav could very clearly hear him whimpering in pain. The silver was burning his skin!

“Now cooperate or else! I'll make sure our darling bloodsuck-” Tav didn't even give the drow a moment to speak any further before knocking the blade from her hand and slamming her fist into her face with enough force to knock Araj to the floor. Araj hit the ground with a thud, seemingly knocked unconscious from the blow. The druid’s eyes quickly went back to Astarion who was struggling and letting out muffled cries of pain, but despite this he looked far more pissed off than afraid. That didn't calm the rage that was stirring deep inside Tav however, and the fact that the same gods damned perverted orc from before was holding onto Astarion's silver chains just pushed her over the edge.

Without even thinking Tav dropped to the ground transforming into a huge direwolf before letting out a deep bloodthirsty snarl and lunging right for the familiar half orc. Her jaws sank right into his groin, causing him to let out a blood curdling scream.

“Bloody hells! Get that thing off of him!” The female half-orc shouted.

“But the vampire!?” The other male orc replied.

“He's tied up you dumb fuck!” She shouted before turning to attack Tav. Tav yanked her head back hard, tearing a chunk out of the half-orc’s flesh and trousers. The half orc continued to scream as Tav spat his unmentionables out before he tumbled over and began to bleed out on the floor.

“That crazy drow bitch better pay us good for this.” The remaining male half-orc muttered before charging at Tav alongside the female.

Tav quickly dove under his legs before bucking him to the ground with her back and darting right for Astarion. Astarion shook his head as his wildshaped lover approached him with a doglike whine and sunk her teeth into his chains, trying to he them off him. She was only able to allow one of his arms to slip free. Astarion quickly tore the cloth around his head.

“For gods' sake Tav! Look out!” He shouted, before suddenly the female half-orc slammed into Tav from behind, wrapping her arms around her in a headlock.

“I've got her! I've got her!” The female orc shouted. Tav growled loudly before turning round and sinking her teeth into the orc female’s shoulder. In the struggle the two ended up tumbling down the stairs and out the front door of the tavern. The half-orc male was about to run off after his female companion when suddenly he noticed Astarion had somehow slipped free from his bindings. The vampire’s skin was quickly healing from the burns left from the silver, and his eyes almost appeared to be glowing red. He clenched and unclenched his fists revealing sharp claw-like fingernails and the next thing the half-orc knew were icy fangs piercing his throat.

Outside the tavern, Tav and the female orc were still going at it. The half orc threw a punch to Tav's head knocking her back before she took out a blade and took a stab at the direwolf only for Tav to dart out of the way at the last second and take a bit at the orc woman’s leg.

“You godsdamn mutt!” She yelled, kicking Tav in the face before plugging her blade into her back.

Tav howled in pain and backed up, blood trickling down her back and staining her fur. She let out a pained whimper as she looked up at the half-orc.

The she-orc smirked triumphantly.

“Not so high and mighty now are you, druid?” She huffed starring Tav right in the eyes. Without another word Tav lunged at the orc with a monstrous growl, sinking her jaws into the green female's head.

“GODS DAMNIT!!” The half-orc screamed. Tav sunk her claws into her shoulders as she stood up on her hind legs and dug her teeth into the orc's skull. Then with a harsh whip of her head Tav snapped her opponent’s neck. The druid then released the orc, letting her drop to the ground.

Tav dropped back down on all fours with a sigh, panting a little from the fight. She turned her head and yanked the blade from her back. Luckily in this form she wouldn't actually be harmed. But she was honestly feeling far too tired to stay in her wildshape now. Slowly she transformed back, taking a moment to regain her strength.

“A-Astarion…I-I need to get back to Astarion…” Tav told herself.

“I'm afraid you won't be seeing him again.” Araj suddenly stepped out from the shadows, blade in hand. “I am not leaving without your heart!” She hissed.

“Oh for fucks sake! Don't you ever get tired of being a psycho!?” Tav hissed, she quickly reached for her weapon, but this time Araj was quicker. She stabbed her blade into Tav's leg making her freeze.

“What….W-What is this!?” Tav sputtered, suddenly feeling her limbs begin to tingle and go numb. She tried to move, but her body just felt so heavy.

“A paralysis potion I've been keeping for a rainy day. I'd hoped I wouldn't have to use it. I have no idea what affects it will have on your heart unfortunately, but I can't let you get away.” Araj stopped as she watched Tav whimper and squirm on the ground. The silver haired female wiped her blade clean off the potion before she then undid the buttons on Tav's shirt, exposing her chest.

“Now I'll need a nice clean cut. I don't want to damage your heart too badly.” The drow licked her lips before dragging the tip of her blade over Tav’s chest. “Just close your eyes and it'll be all over…” Tears began to form in the corners of Tav’s eyes, heart pounding so hard she was sure it’d burst right out before that damn drow bitch would even have a chance to cut into it.

“Get away from my Tav.” Astarion suddenly growled out, appearing behind Araj who quickly turned and struck at him with her blade.

“Not until I have her heart!” Araj hissed.

Astarion ducked out of the way, unsheathing his own blade and taking a swing at her. His dagger barely nicked the side of her cheek as she dodged, drawing a few drops of blood.

“Gods below, it's even more foul smelling than before!” He made a gagging sound.

“Mock me all you like! It won't stop me!” Araj took another stab at Astarion aiming right for his throat, but he quickly grabbed her wrists and pushed her back towards the ground. Now that he was free of the tadpole his vampiric strength returned and it gave him an edge in battle.

“You know darling, I think I may have had a sudden change of heart. I may just bite you after all.” Astarion said, forcing a grin upon his face.

“What-” Confusion flickered over her face for a split second, immediately being followed by Astarion sinking his fangs into her neck, but instead of drinking her blood, he tore her throat right out.

Astarion immediately spat out any of her blood that had gotten into his mouth before watching her drop to the ground, a twisted smile plastered over her face. “I-Incredible….” She choked out before suddenly coughing up an alarming amount of blood.

He quickly disregarded her lifeless body and swiftly moved to Tav who was still paralyzed on the ground.

“My love, are you alright?” Astarion knelt down and cradled her head with one hand.

“I-I can't m-move….S-She got me with a paralysis poison…” Tav croaked out.

“Hang in there lover.”Astarion frowned, looking down at Tav with worry. He immediately scooped her up bridal-style. “I'm going to take you to Dalyria. She should be able to cure this.” Astarion carried Tav back into the tavern. Several of the patrons were whispering to each other. Some seemed deathly afraid of Astarion and his love. The vampire spawn simply ignored them.

“I don't think we're going to be welcome here any longer, Star.” Tav said as Astarion set her down on a sofa near the tavern fireplace.

“Forget them, darling. We're leaving anyway. Now sit tight while I grab our things.” Astarion said, kissing her forehead before quickly going upstairs to get their packs. Tav sat by the fire, she could see the barmaid Lyn giving her an awfully ugly look.

Good gods, it's not our fault we were attacked.

Tav rolled her eyes. It didn't take long for Astarion to return with their things. Tav weakly nuzzled her face into his neck as Astarion scooped her back up into his arms. Tav stared up at him with adoration as he carried her out.

“You did it, you know.” She hummed.

“What are you on about?’ Astarion glanced down at her.

“You protected me!” Tav exclaimed with a weak smile, “and thank the gods you did. I was sure I was a goner.”

“You give me far too much credit, my love. I still allowed you to get injured. You did a much better job than I.” Astarion huffed.

“You kidding? You just saved my life Astarion and this isn't even the first time.” Tav insisted. “Look, from now on no more arguing over who protects who. We protect each other and that's final.”

“You're being awfully demanding of someone who can't even move her arms, my dear.” Astarion chuckled, “but I am grateful all the same.”

He planted another kiss upon Tav's forehead before continuing on to meet up with his sister and hopefully cure his beloved’s ailment.

The two set off, leaving the tavern to deal with three battered corpses and a mysterious trail of blood…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note from TheChaoticDruid: Phew! Finally got this thing out! Honestly despite finding her a very shitty person and absolutely despising how she treats Astarion I can't help but find Araj interesting. The whole thing with blood and heck the creepy shit you find in her basement makes me want to know more about her. Kinda went a little overboard with this in terms of violence I guess, but I kinda wish there were more bg3 fics with some action in them. Also, I may have kinda ignored how silver and vampires work in DnD, but BG3 plays fast and loose with lore so I guess I will too. Hope you like it!

327 notes · View notes

meanbossart · 8 months ago

Text

Another much overdue ask compilation! Some short-ish lore asks (Gale, Gort, DU drow relationships and pet-companion preferences) and a couple of art/advice ones sprinkled in. THIS IS BY NO MEANS ALL OF MY ASKS so as usual I appreciate everyone's patience!

I actually think he'd give them a pass entirely as soon as he noticed. Correct me if I'm mistaken but half-drow get No love from underdark drow and are usually surface babies right? So that fruit is miles away from the tree lol. I think he generally has a bit of a soft spot for mixed kinds since he himself feels like an amalgamation of sorts.

Thank you! They're kind of a pain in the ass to draw at times for that very reason but man I do like the look 😩if other people like it too then that makes it all worth it!

THAT'S TRICKY TO ANSWER BECAUSE OFTEN TIMES I'M NOT... REALLY TRYING. I've draw a ton of horror comics for mine and my partner's series' SAD SACK and SORTIE, so I think it just comes naturally to me 😅 also I do genuinely find expressive and, uh, rugged faces more attractive? (I think they look rugged, again that's what people tell me at least.)

I think the secret might be adding bits of realism in there. I get a lot of comments about the wrinkles and eyelashes I add to my art, as well as the way I draw individual teeth (though I've lately been making an effort to simplify my style in favor of drawing faster, so I haven't done that as much or in as much detail.)

Both symmetry and the lack of it can also add to that effect. I have employed both facial unevenness and almost point-perfect symmetry to achieve something a little frightening or otherworldly in my work. [MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Thank you so much!!! The contrast is very much intentional, that's what DU drow's character is all about ;)

Hahah well I somewhat doubt Bhaal would care that his spawn gets named, but either way he stripped himself of his name as soon as he killed his foster parents and abandoned the Underdark. He had a drow name that I jotted down somewhere but it's completely irrelevant because nobody has used it since he was a child, and he doesn't remember it (even pre-tadpole/having his brain scrambled.) Here's a little write up about his origins that might shed some more light on that: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739688837431836672/did-drow-ever-have-a-childhood-before-the-temple

And about his original drow-given name and the reason behind it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/741350986692591616/drow-had-to-have-been-given-a-name-by-his-adoptive

Everyone just referred to him as his supposed race, or as Bhaalspawn or Bhaal's child, and any other similar titles. Orin called him "kin" and "brother" and Gortash likely called him his associate. Post-tadpole the camp grows entirely used to calling him "the drow" and he has no desire to change that or to choose a proper name.

THANK YOU BOTH SO MUCH😭 no reason to be intimidated, I'm just some rando drawing BG3 fan art LOL I've been drawing since I was a child, and started taking it semi-seriously when I was 16 years old, so twelve years ago! That's around the time where I got my first non-display tabled and used that well into my twenties, prior to that I only did stuff on paper and liked to do inks color with pencils. I never really ventured into traditional painting at all except for a little bit of water-coloring in college.

Traditional and Digital art are very much different beasts. Which one you want to start with is, in my opinion, just dependent on what you want to do. Digital art gives you a lot of tools that makes learning easier, but you might find yourself having much steeper of a learning curve if you ever decide to do traditional art instead. If you want to be good at both, you need to practice both, since the skill doesn't entirely translate from one medium to the other.

Naturally you will be able to draw well on either, it's just... Different. I will say though, that I think if you're still learning you should use whatever allows you to look directly at what your hand is doing, so either traditional or display tablet/Ipad. I have no idea what a non-display tablet would do to a beginner, but remembering my experience with it I feel like it might be a huge detriment to developing the skill (feel free to share your experiences in the replies if you disagree, as I would definitely be curious to read them!)

YOU KNOW ME BABY IT WAS MESSY AND COMPLICATED the tldr.: is that they were "buddies", absolutely no romance intended there on either mine or DU drow's part, but due to his nature the friendship was extremely weird.

Here's a couple of replies where I go into more detail about it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739191190871818240/i-dont-have-a-particular-question-in-mind-sorry

https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/744952815768764416/so-not-sure-if-youve-covered-this-but-i-thought

That's definitely reserved for the vamp LOL DU drow very much enjoys when Astarion teases and fusses over him, and while Astarion probably got a kick out of acting that way around such a big and scary looking guy at first, I think by "now" (later and post-game) he's pretty much immune to DU drow's looks and just enjoys doing it in earnest.

He's not at all averse to being touched (even rather intimately) by close friends, but he wouldn't be quite THAT vulnerable with anyone else.

HE REALLY DISLIKED GALE... He irked him out by seemingly fostering a rather persistent romantic interest in him for at least half the time they spent together (very much based on my interpretation of their in-game interactions at the time, though my Gale might have been a little bugged.)

But also they had a... Fairly in depth relationship still? Gale was a staple in my party, and even though I antagonized him constantly by the end of the game it still felt like they had so much weight in each other's lives, if that makes sense. I might need to do a bit of an "update" on the DU Drow/Gale lore sometime, I feel like I've had some thoughts since that warrant more exploration of their dynamic (you can find a lot of old asks about it if you just search the Gale Dekarios tag in my blog though).

The gist of it is that DU drow found him arrogant and duplicitous, his constant optimist irritated him to no end and felt like it veiled a stream of self-pity (two things DU drow despises) Gale's attempts to get through to him only added insult to injury. By the end of the game he decided to pursue the crown of Karsus and this only lost him even more respect in Drow's eyes, seeing as he doesn't value godly power at all.

I was pretty overwhelmed by the game at the start so I actually missed a lot LOL including Scratch. I did get the owlbear cub though, which DU drow gladly welcomed into camp since it was injured - but I think he would have wished for it to remain a wild animal and to return back to it's home after it had grown up a bit. He didn't really make a "pet" out of it more than he just looked after the little guy in the way it's mother might have, probably with Shadowheart's help.

He wouldn't be opposed to proper pets though if one were to stumble into his life. He'd definitely be more of a cat guy because of their independence and strong little attitudes.

It is very hard to build proper rapport with him. He will be "friendly" to most people who have a good sense of humor about them, but friendSHIP is another thing entirely.

I think it's kind of circumstantial. He's very economical in his relationships and doesn't really seek them out at all - so a situation where he's forced to be in someone's company might be the only way to develop a bond with him, as he doesn't appreciate insistence either and that's more likely to push him away. He doesn't value status or titles either (kind of looks down on them really) so that won't help.

I think he just likes people who are true to themselves and their nature, sometimes even if the nature is one he disagrees with at it's core. This is why he liked Gortash, why he and Shadowheart got along so well, and why him and Astarion fit together so seamlessly despite seeming so different. Likewise I think it's why he didn't jive with people like Gale or Wyll, because they seemed to be rather... Dishonest with themselves and their own end-goals.

#ask compilation #DU drow lore #ask

161 notes · View notes

kirain · 9 months ago

Note

Question. How do you handle the age differences and life spans of your tavs/romances in bg3?

Are you asking if I've made my Tavs age-equal to the romances I've picked for them? If so, then I've actually been very careful about that. Lore-wise, I can't stand the thought of my character dying hundreds of years sooner or living hundreds of years longer than their partner. So I adhered to D&D 5E lore. If you're interested, I've explained most of the lifespans below.

Serena, my canon character, is human and romanced Gale. In D&D, the average lifespan of a human is 120 years, but since she and Gale are both wizards, they could potentially live for thousands of years. It all depends on the magic they wield. Elminster, for example, is nearly 1,300 years old. Otherwise, they'll age alongside each other as equals.

Saska is a Seldarine drow. On average they last between 400-750 years, depending on if they survive and leave the Underdark. Saska has indeed left the Underdark, works as a bard, and romanced Karlach. Tieflings typically live to 150; however, Karlach has the potential to live longer since her body has been so drastically altered. Upon finding a permanent upgrade for her engine, it's possible she could live just as long as a drow, if not longer, as she's been touched by infernal technology.

Ez'ria is a githyanki fighter/storm sorcerer. This one was easy, since she romanced Lae'zel. With any luck, they'll both live to a nice, healthy 120 years old; the average lifespan of a gith.

Eilonwy is my redeemed Dark Urge half-elf. On average they last about 180 years. This one's a bit more complicated because I partnered her with Astarion, who's a pure high elf and a vampire. High elves live to an average of 750 years, and vampires/spawn are of course immortal. But I've given this a lot of thought. Eilonwy, for example, is a druid, and because of their connection to nature/magic, their aging slows to 10% of what they would normally age. This means Eilonwy has the potential to reach 1,800. I should also mention that there are cures to vampirism in D&D 5E, so I like to think they find one at some point during their travels.

Bakara is a tiefling sorcerer of the draconic bloodline. Another semi-easy one, since I partnered her with Wyll. As I mentioned before, tieflings typically live to 150, whereas humans live to 120. I headcanon that my tiefling was already 50 when she met Wyll; who, according to Larian, is 24 during the events of BG3. To clarify, tieflings are considered young adults by the age of 20 and full adults when they reach the age of 60. So despite being 50, she's mentally around the same age as Wyll.

Thalias is a high half-elf Selûnite cleric. Possibly the easiest one, since he romanced Shadowheart, who is also a high half-elf who becomes a Selûnite cleric (at least in my game). With Selûne's blessing, they could live however long she desires, but on average they'll both live to be 180.

I also made an adorable little deep gnome named Mira to sweep Barcus off his feet. I shall wait patiently for Larian or a clever modder to make him romancable. The average lifespan for gnomes is 350 years.

Halsin is a bit more complicated, since he's a pure wood elf and a druid. This means he could conceivably live to be 7,500 years old, which is wild. I do plan on doing a playthrough where I romance him, and when I do I'll be making a mysterious wood elf named Arawen, a warlock who made a pact with an ancient archfey. So in addition to living to 750; as per the average lifespan of her race, as long as her pact remains in tact, she will live as long as her patron allows.

198 notes · View notes

yangcherie · 11 months ago

Note

i am obsessed with your writing. really. i would love to read your view on a shadowheart trying to win your heart when she realizes that the other companions also want you. be as fluff or smut as you want! (and of course you don't need to write anything you don't want, really, no pressure) 💕🩷

one step ahead

pairing: shadowheart, background cast x gender-neutral!tav (reader.)

content warnings: alcoholic consumption, lightest bit of suggestive. reverse comfort. religious trauma (shar.), pre-selune shart.

author’s note: i don’t quite know. this is the first time i wrote wothout being high so ahm. this might suck. Uh. so sorry, dear... begging the nines for this to flop. praying hands emoji.

Before discovering:

You’re a darling thing – considerate, easy to like.

Shadowheart vies for your heart, confident she’s the only one. The party is big and Farûn even bigger, surely, they will not take this one thing away from her? She doesn’t take it seriously at first, the way they touch you, look at you, speak of you. No, she ignores it, continues to court you with soft flowers and fold and prayers of blessings upon you. You’re a priority to her, first and foremost. The only thing she has besides Shar’s teachings.

You like her. The way she feels about you is nothing if not refreshing, rid of lust. So you laugh with her, thank her so prettily for her gifts. She’s confident.

After discovering:

It comes to her late at night. She is not the only one who gives you flowers and gold and prayers, it seems. What meager she has to offer the others are extravagant with. She begrudgingly stumbles upon the possibility that you might’ve served more as a distraction than a lover, you’ve been challenging her faith and focus.

Have you swayed her? The same way you have seemingly swayed the other ones in the party?

If there’s one thing Shadowheart has discovered about herself, it’s that she does not like to share. But you are not hers. And is then she begins to descend into thoughts she does not like, about how it would feel to stake a claim over you.

You become more of a trial to overcome, something to have a crisis over.

Shadowheart purses her lips, sulking by the fire. She’s alone, thankfully – but the night is not peaceful for her, as it may be for the others slumbering around. The wind bites at her legs and something akin to heartbreak and envy chews at her heart as she stares at your tent. An abandoned, emptied bottle of putrid wine lay on its side near her.

It should be alarming, how quickly she’s taken to a different sort of nightly activity; chasing away her thoughts of you with wine and whisky instead of praying. She’s half-convinced you’re a hidden disciple of Lady Shar, with the way you invoke loss so easily in her. You must be a test of faith – one she is losing.

If she is bound to lose, she will not go down without tooth and nail. She’s opted for trying to sweep you off your feet, bouquets of orchids, opening her heart to you. Unfortunately, for every endeavor, you’ve tugged an endearing smile at. You’ve sung her praises on how darling of a friend she was – and she had been laughed at, patted on the back with sympathy by those in the party.

She wonders if you’ve even paid mind to how her advances have faltered. How she had herself distanced from you.

Shadowheart huffs, petty. Your heart has been something hotly-contested amongst the camp – for fuck’s sake, amongst everyone you cross, from drows and tieflings to cambions and lords alike. She knows it, she sees how those in the party - especially that damned vampire, drink in your bodice. The lilted curve of your smile. The bob of your throat. She sees how they could just maim one another for a chance at you, and she cannot blame them for their hunger – but it does not soothe her misery.

The idiots make it a competition of sorts; how far they could skirt around their affections without being caught — but Astarion seems to be winning. It is no secret to everyone, of the trysts you share with the vampire. It haunts her; how in the absence of light, he leans over you, pins you to the ground and sinks his teeth into the soft, welcoming flesh of your florid neck. He licks and savors the sanguine off of your skin whilst you whimper in pain beneath him.

During those nights, she cannot help but stay up, even long after the vampire has sauntered off, leaving you bloodless, limping. She strains her ears to listen to you breathe stiltedly. What she wouldn’t give for the chance to eat you up, whisper pretty things to you even as you push against her and whimper.

(During those nights, it is where she cannot help but truly resonate with Lady Shar’s teachings. Embittered, speared with loss with the fact you have plenty of beds to warm, hearts to hold – but none are hers.)

In the morning, she alone fusses and casts a light heal over you, brushing over your wounded neck, ignoring how Astarion will make an innuedo of your taste to irritate his fellow, seething companions. She will ignore how you flush.

Shadowheart is not blind – even the most foolish of fools could see she is not the only one to vie for your heart. She kicks around in the dirt, disgruntled, raking a hand through her otherwise pristine hair. You are a ridiculous conundrum, an enigma that puts her faith, her control at a losing trial — a groan is forced out of her. She would kill to have anything else on her mind but you, you, you, you, who has swarmed and consumed much of her waking thoughts.

Damn you. Damn you for all you are. You must be a cambion amongst the likes of Haarlep with the way you’ve ensnared her.

Before the cleric can run off with gritted teeth, however, a weight is settled on her shoulder from behind. Mortification is quick to take over her, a chill like winter in Icewind Dale, or worse, High Ice, crawling on her spine.

“Hey, you.” Your voice softly greets her. You do not wait for her answer, she figures when you decide to sit down on the log and huddle up to her as a comforting anchor, unaware to the flushed grimace on her face.

It is a brief thought that passes; what if the Nightsong Lady was watching her right at this moment? How will she ever explain this in her prayers? Should she beg that the Lady spare you? She gapes like a dehydrated fish on land when you burrow yourself further to her side and meet eyes with her.

You do not know you look how ambrosian you are at this moment. You are warm. You are soft and you are alone. Right in front of her, nestling into her, even – unknowing that she is on the prepice of some circle of hell, one riddled with indecision. Should she swoop you off your feet, profess her affections to you and press her mouth to yours until you’re stupid enough to let her bed you for the night?

Or should she gather you in her jaws and bite voraciously hard enough that you will turn limp? Spare you from what is her maw? The pit of her want she could condemn you to?

(But hers must be more merciful than the rest’s, surely? Would you prefer it to be her that destroys you?)

She is now convinced, you are the greatest trial of forbearance and endurance Shar has thrown her way.

“Shadowheart?” You murmur worriedly, a few seconds later to her silence, the fire casting a sultry, welcoming flush over you. She watches as you reach a hand up to your own face; undoubtedly thinking, why is she staring at you like you’ve burnt down the entirety of Faerûn? Shadowheart swallows, jittery; she cannot bear to tear herself away from your embrace.

“Why... why have you come here? To me?” It is all she manages to wrench out of her dry throat. Her waist trembles when you wrap an arm around it. She wishes to ask more; what are we? What am i to you? What do you want from me? Why are you doing this to me—?

“You looked lonely, was all.” You yawned, something ladened with slumber. She could not fathom the thought that this, whatever you were doing, could be casual to you. Was it an everyday occurence for you to ensconcing with whoever you deemed warm enough? “You could do with some company.”

Company? Does she deserve it? You could be with Karlach or Halsin, right now. Their arms were built to sweep you right off your feet. Or Astarion, surely? Was her company so special to you, you had refused your nightly tryst with him?

No, the rational part of her hisses. You’re thinking too highly of yourself; and what it says is true. She’s nothing more than some elf, one who cannot even string herself together.

It’s an uncomfortable silence – though it seems onesided, with how you flutter and cosy up to her despite how stiff she is. Somewhere in between, she feels a frown on your face pressed to her shoulder. She swallows, a prayer of repentance and a lash against her back is what she deserves. She’s a fool. There is no other but herself to fault if she was to fail the trial you pose.

“Shadowheart,” you mutter, more fiercely, another question on your mouth. She reveres the image of you, with your brows are wrinkled with worry for her. “Are you okay?”

But if the punishment is inevitable, she might as well just enjoy the buildup, right?

The cleric shakes her head, the witty response she has wilting when the instantaneous tightening of your arms around her fills her with the most innocent surge of need she’s ever felt – and her body wraps its arms around you before her mind has a say on it.

“Y-You torment me, you know?” She says, breathy, unnerved. The way you look at her and search her eyes for anything that could give her away has her breathless, and she can’t quit decide if that’s a good thing. It feels dirty, almost as if you’re looking for sin in her. She has plenty to go around.

“Why?” You ask, pushing on.

“You confuse me.” Shadowheart shakes her head, allowing the warmth of your palm to slide on her face. She graces it with her own. Shar cannot be watching, damn her. “So much.”

She continues, clutching onto your fingers, “I cannot be with you, I cannot – but gods,” she chokes, lips quivering once. “you make it so hard to stay away.”

You flush at it, what she means. Shadowheart follows. She wonders if you can hear it, the thrum of her heart, a testament of her sin, her unforgivable wrongdoings. She wonders if you know she’s starting to look at you as more of a salvation then a trial. You feel like it.

“Where is this coming from?” You ask, so gently, so reassured. You even tuck her hair behind her ears and it makes her flush with delight. “What makes you so sure you cannot be with me, hm?”

“Why me?” It clicks to you why she had asked that earlier. You frown, smoothing your thumb over the apple of her supple cheek. Her voice trembles. “You could have anyone you wanted, you know. Soldiers, or dukes. But you, you act like this towards me; and I’m just me.”

She does not say how afraid she feels that she could taint you with sin.

“And I like you for you.” You interject; and the butterflies in her stomach seem to triple, despite her eyes burning with exhaustion. “You are more than enough for me. You are wonderful to me.”

“You’re fine, we’re fine. I want to be with you.”

(She wonders if you mean for the rest of your life or this night only.)

Your words ring in her mind. She wonders if you want her to the same extent she does with you. But whatever — she’ll deal with it in the morning, the talk, the regret, the prayers, her reward and consequences. For now, she will let you soothe down the mess she’s made of her hair and hold her, entangle yourself to her as if to share warmth in place of the dying fire.

She could be enough for you, she could take care to not damage you with what she is. And she’s sure that she deserves this, snugly rocking in your arms, even for a night or two. And maybe you deserve a pretty flower again.

If she cannot have you, she can at the very least make sure you have her.

#shadowheart x reader #bg3 x reader #not my proudest work #i need to hit a smoke to function sad face emoji sigh #hope this flops amen

246 notes · View notes

littlejuicebox · 8 months ago

Text

A Pocket Full of Rainbows, A Star Up My Sleeve (1950s AU) / Chapter 1: The Drive In

Click here to read on AO3.

Summary: It's 1957, and for the first time in his life, Astarion Ancunin is happy. He's a newlywed, his spouse, Gustav Adler, is the editor-in-chief of the city's second most prominent newspaper, and they play keeping up with the Atherwindes next door. They are picture-perfect domesticity. Or so it seems. Secrets Astarion has kept hidden from his spouse begin to surface around their first anniversary, and Gustav is left to wonder... who exactly did he marry?

Tags/Warnings: This one starts off with smut (light BDSM if you squint and tilt your head) in Chapter 1 so there's that. This longfic will have a lot of hurt/angst/comfort + mild gore + mentions of Astarion's past trauma. I will update with a warning if there is a significant concern in any chapter.

Notes: Special thanks to @leomonae for beta-reading and holding my hand while I write this entire thing that has taken hold of me body and soul. And special thanks to all the awesome supportive people on my discord server that have hyped me up enough to give me the courage to post this.

-----

Cigar smoke spirals out of the barely cracked mahogany door and into the newsroom as the editor-in-chief, Gustav Adler, finalizes the layout for this weekend’s edition of the Baldur’s Herald. He’s running late — he should have been halfway home, by now. His wife is going to be furious with him if they miss the beginning of the movie.

But this story has a chance of finally getting the Baldur’s Herald ahead of the Baldur’s Gate Gazette; he has to get it just right. There is still more investigation to be done, of course, but no one can deny several missing persons and multiple eyewitness reports of a mindflayer in the lower city. It’s certainly enough to sell papers and promote intrigue.

The paper had gotten a decent boost when he’d been promoted to editor-in-chief a few years ago. The promotion of an openly gay man – a half-drow, nonetheless – to the position had garnered quite a bit of attention. Good and bad, of course. But as the saying goes, all publicity is good publicity.

In the Herald’s case, that had been true. The groundbreaking move had put the previously small paper on the map and quickly catapulted it to second place in the rankings, where it had been ever since. Tav was convinced it would only take one powerful story to overtake the Gazette; he felt confident the culmination of this story would be the one to do it.

A rapid knock on the door pulls Gustav from his work as he takes another drag of his nearly finished cigar; his top investigator, Karlach, is leaning against the door jamb.

“There’s been another mindflayer sighting. Dekarios is on the ground now, I’m on my way to meet him,” she says, her eyes alight with excitement. The tiefling had been chasing this story for weeks and finally had enough for her article to make the front page of this weekend’s issue.

“Excellent — I’ll be back in the office tomorrow morning, Kar. I expect an update then. I would go with you two, but the wife won’t forgive me if I cancel two weeks in a row,” Gustav responds as he extinguishes his cigar in the unfinished coffee that sat atop his desk all day.

Karlach chuckles good-naturedly as she straightens from the doorframe and moves to put on the suit jacket she’d been holding in her hand. “Tell Astarion I said hello; and thank him again for mending this for me.”

“Will do— oh, and Karlach, can you run this by the printers before you head out? It’s the final layout for the weekend edition,” the editor-in-chief says as he moves to exit his own office. He hands the mock-up to his journalist and heads out of the building for the night. In the parking lot, Gustav rushes to his car and hopes his wife isn’t too terribly upset with him for being a bit late.

Astarion had been Gustav’s secretary for nearly six months before he finally worked up the courage to ask the other man on a date. It was never easy for Tav, doing such a thing, although sexuality laws had changed in his early adulthood and it was common to see people just like him about the city nowadays.

He couldn’t have assumed Astarion was interested in men simply because he alternated between wearing suits and dresses – which had been, of course, one of the things that caught Tav’s attention and fascinated him early on. Astarion managed to look breathtaking in both; Gustav had never seen anything quite like him and spent more time than he should have admiring his secretary sitting just outside his office door. As it turned out, Astarion had been flirting with him for months; he had always worried he was misinterpreting the signals.

It wasn’t until Karlach hassled him for a week that Tav finally broke down and asked Astarion to dinner. They dated for just under a year, and married as soon as they were legally allowed – all legal documentation still required assigned roles of husband and wife, and in the public sense, these designations were required across the board. They’d randomly assigned titles with the flip of a coin.

It seemed ridiculous, in the beginning. Bureaucracy and politics could be so short-sighted; the world never seemed to dot all its i's and cross all its t’s before moving on to the next agenda. In public, the couple always used the assigned titles; at first, this had been mostly to avoid confusion or ignorant comments. But then one night, Gustav had jokingly called Astarion his “wife” and it had instantly ignited something within his lover. He’d never seen his spouse so excited in bed until that moment.

From then on, in public and in private, Astarion was his wife. The word just had different meanings depending on context. As an editor, Gustav could wholeheartedly appreciate the subtleties of the phrase; as a husband, he loved the effect the word had on his wife when they were in bed.

As Gustav pulls up to the brownstone townhouse he and Astarion share, he immediately notices the new gardenia shrubs and mulch surrounding the Atherwinde’s front stoop. A soft groan of annoyance escapes his lips; he’d planned to tend their own garden next weekend, but now he would have to move that project up. He was not about to let their annoying nextdoor neighbor, Edmund Atherwinde, throw subtle remarks at him for an entire week whenever they ran into one another while leaving for work. Gustav is almost certain Eddie waits to see when he comes out in the morning, just to harass him as they both climb into their Chevrolet Bel-Airs. Gustav’s is the most recent model; Eddie’s is last year’s model. Not that he’s comparing, of course.

He glances at his wristwatch; it’s twenty minutes past the time he was supposed to be home. They should still be able to eat dinner and make it to the drive-in. He grabs the bow-wrapped box from the backseat and then makes his way into the townhome.

A quick jangle of keys echoes through the short foyer before Gustav calls, “Astarion, I’m home!”

“You’re late,” a cool, clipped voice replies from the kitchen. “I’ve had to keep dinner warm in the oven for twenty minutes, Tav.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Gustav responds as he moves to join his wife. He presents the box to Astarion with a toothy smile and a wink. “But, perhaps this will make it up to you.”

The scowl that had been painted across Astarion’s face soon pulls up into a grin as he takes the box from Tav. A quick tug of the black grosgrain ribbon reveals the present inside – a mink stole. A soft gasp escapes Astarion as he removes the fur shawl from the packaging and wraps it around his shoulders.

“Gorgeous,” Gustav compliments as he admires his lover. “I think it will go well with the gown you plan on wearing for our anniversary dinner.”

“Of course it will, darling,” Astarion responds before lifting onto his toes and pressing a kiss against his husband’s cheek, right upon the old scar Gustav got back in his military days. “It’s beautiful, thank you. Now, dinner, dear– and we’d better hurry.”

Dinner was nothing to write home about. Astarion was a fair to middling cook nowadays – in the beginning of their marriage, he’d burnt nearly every meal he made. Almost a year later, he’d managed to get the hang of a few simple recipes. Gustav, to his credit, never complained. All his time in the military taught him to accept far meager offerings than his wife’s creations; if he could eat cold beans from an aluminum can, he could handle a slightly charred meatloaf.

They made it to the drive in just as the last previews finished. Astarion had been exceptionally excited to see this film – a horror movie about vampires, of all things. Gustav was not particularly interested in the movie, but willingly endured for his wife’s happiness. Until, of course, Astarion pressed up against him a little over halfway through the film – an innocent reaction to the scene playing on screen – and gripped dangerously high on Gustav’s thigh.

Desire immediately flared through Tav, and when he turned to look at his wife, he wanted nothing more than to smear the perfectly painted red lipstick on the other man’s lips. So he did.

They were locked in a passionate kiss for several minutes, the movie all but forgotten. Their tongues wrapped around one another in a familiar embrace, a comfortable dance the two of them had become accustomed to. It did not take long for Gustav to begin advancing eagerly upon his wife.

“You’re insatiable,” Astarion chuckles as his lover playfully nips into his neck. A delighted shiver ghosts up his spine.

“Can you blame me?” Gustav asks as his lips trail to his lover’s chest, just exposed by the neckline of Astarion’s collared dress. His tongue swirls along alabaster skin before a sly hand moves under the skirt hem. “You’re delicious… and I’d very much like to have a taste.”

Gustav’s thick, purple-gray fingers run along the inside of Astarion’s pale, muscled thigh and travel all the way up to the edge of a sheer, nylon stocking. He quickly finds a garter strap, pulls, and releases the elastic band. Astarion jumps and gasps as the skin on his leg turns into gooseflesh; his husband palms insistently between his legs.

“S-surely you don’t mean here, Tav,” Astarion whispers, his legs spreading slightly, making more room to accommodate the hand teasing his hardening cock. But even as Astarion says it, he’s hoping his husband actually does mean here – the mere thought of such a scandalous act is causing arousal to dampen the front of his undergarments.

“Mmh, and why not?” Gustav asks, already beginning to slide from his seat, down to the floorboard. He wanders his hand down under the seat and pushes it back as far as it will go. It isn’t much, but enough for him to comfortably kneel between Astarion’s legs. He brings his hands to his wife’s knees and slowly presses them open with a sly smile.

“I…” Astarion tries to respond, his face suddenly feeling quite hot as a blush of both embarrassment and desire spreads across his skin. His mouth goes dry as he looks down at the man between his legs. Gustav is slowly pushing up the hem of Astarion’s skirt and peering up at his lover as he licks his lips.

“Do you want me to stop?” He questions, cocking his head just slightly. When his wife doesn’t respond, he begins to lower Astarion’s skirt; his purple-gray hand is suddenly caught between slender, milky-white fingers.

“Keep going,” Astarion quietly urges before casting a glance out the window. They’re in the final row of the drive-in. Only one other car is in the same row as them, and the couple in that car are far too distracted by one another’s mouths to pay any mind to the two men.

Gustav hums happily as he unceremoniously lifts Astarion’s skirt and drops his head underneath; he’s greeted with a pale, leaking cock straining against a pair of sheer, silk panties. The sight causes his own cock to stir in his trousers.

“Now be a good little wife and hold very, very still for me, baby,” Gustav commands with a final snap of Astarion’s garter strap. His wife gasps and squirms in his seat before obediently stilling. Tav doesn’t waste any more time with foreplay; his hands come under Astarion’s dress and quickly tear the underwear in two – he’ll buy a replacement pair later. Astarion’s cock springs proudly from its confines, bobbing slightly and begging to be sucked.

Tav brings both hands to the pale thighs on either side of his head as he pulls Astarion’s cock into his mouth. His tongue swirls around the head languidly, causing more pre-fluid to leak onto his tongue. The salty, musky taste makes his mouth water in delight. He’s certain he will never tire of tasting his wife.

A whimper escapes Astarion’s lips when his husband takes all of his length. Gustav’s warm, wet throat contracts around Astarion’s cock and then, much too soon, he retracts and begins to swirl his tongue around its pink, swollen head. Tav repeats this several times and each time his throat squeezes around Astarion, it takes everything within him to not buck upwards. His thighs are trembling. He so badly wants to move, to seek the heat of his lover’s mouth. But he wants to be a good wife, so he forces himself to obey the command.

The excited keening becomes louder and more insistent the longer Gustav teases him. By now the movie is almost over, and Astarion is catching flashes of the end scene through blurred vision and panting breaths. He clamps his eyes shut as Gustav, once again, swallows him to the hilt. This time his husband holds the position and hums, both hands squeezing into Astarion’s thighs.

“Aah, Tav–” Astarion whimpers, his tone pleading, “Tav, please–”

But Gustav retracts and his wife whines. He cannot help but smile at the neediness. He forces Astarion’s skirt up over his thighs, exposing his arousal-slicked face and his lover’s hard, weeping cock all at once. He peers up at his wife with a pleased smirk; Astarion meets him with half-hooded lids and blown pupils.

“Already, baby? Really?” Gustav purrs, one hand coming to caress Astarion’s scrotum. He applies a light bit of pressure and admires the way pre-fluid dribbles from his lover’s desperate cock. His tongue darts out to slowly lap up the string of clear liquid running down Astarion’s shaft. “I don’t think I’ve worshiped my wife quite long enough.”

Astarion impatiently squirms in his seat. He’d been doing a rather excellent job holding still until now, but the ache between his legs is growing increasingly insistent, and his husband has teased him long enough. When Gustav’s hands wrap around his cock he moans and his head falls back reflexively. The movie’s end credits are starting to roll.

“Please, Gustav… I can’t– I can’t any longer, please–” Astarion begs, through sharp shaking breaths. His hips stutter forward insistently into the other man’s fists.

“Very well,” Gustav responds, and with little warning he drops his hands and takes all of Astarion in his mouth again. Pale fingers clutch into Tav’s cropped white hair, pulling slightly just at the nape of his neck. He hums his encouragement as he bobs his head up and down the length of his wife’s cock, covering it in saliva and spreading the growing amounts of pre-fluid dripping from its tip.

Gustav can tell by the breathy keening sounds his wife is making that he is close to release. His own cock is straining within his trousers – but that can wait until they get home. The first orgasm always leaves Astarion desperate for more, anyway.

Tav swallows Astarion’s length once again, intentionally contracting his throat around the pale cock in his mouth. His wife bites back a moan and comes, hips thrusting up as warm seed spills down Tav’s throat. Astarion’s cock continues to pulse for a while longer, and Tav expertly swallows every last drop of his lover’s spend.

When he feels the other man’s fingers retract from his hair, Gustav carefully pulls back and releases Astarion’s slowly softening cock. He swirls his tongue around the tip one last time, forcing a final whimper from his lover before easing back and placing a few kisses against Astarion’s thigh.

“Darling,” Astarion pants as he runs his fingers through sweat-drenched curls. His lipstick is completely smeared across his face; he looks wrecked. “Take me home and make love to me.”

Gustav grins in response as he begins to climb back into the driver’s seat. Many of the cars in the lot have pulled away by now. “Anything for my beautiful wife.”

They crash through the townhome door, a mess of half-removed clothing and desire. Astarion shoves Tav against the front entrance as soon as it shuts behind them and grinds himself along Tav’s thigh. The rotary phone in the living room is ringing, but they pay it no mind.

Gustav quickly undoes the buttons of his wife’s dress and strips it from his body. He’s entirely naked underneath, save the garter belt and stockings – the ruined bits of underwear were left on the floorboard of the car. Astarion is undoing his husband’s belt buckle when the phone stops ringing; he moves to drop to his knees right in front of Tav, but he is quickly pulled back up.

“Not here on the tile, baby. It’s much too hard,” he murmurs as he guides his wife over to the carpeted living room. As soon as they’re in front of the couch, Astarion rips Tav’s trousers and undergarments off in one swift motion and then guides his husband to sit on the serpentine sofa.

“Now, darling, let me repay you for earlier,” Astarion purrs as his hands teasingly slide up his lover’s purple thighs. He’s just about to take Gustav’s cock in his hands when the phone begins ringing again; it’s a sharp, shrill, distracting sound.

Gustav groans in irritation. He quickly leans over to pull the handset from the stand and uses a finger to hang up on the caller. He tosses the receiver haphazardly, leaving it off the hook so that the phone will not ring and interrupt him and his wife again. It’s well past ten at night; whoever is calling can wait until the morning and call back then.

He turns his attention back to Astarion and smiles. Then, he reaches out and brings two fingers under his wife’s chin before he gently presses upwards. They meet one another with a slow, gentle kiss. When Gustav retracts, Astarion is staring up at him in wide-eyed adoration.

“Now, where were we?” Gustav asks. Astarion chuckles in response before wrapping two pale hands around the cock in front of him; it’s already leaking in anticipation as he slowly strokes up and down the length.

“I think we were just getting to the good part, my love,” Astarion murmurs, peering up at his husband through hooded lids before dropping his head to take Gustav between a pair of lipstick-smeared lips.

The phone stays off the hook for the rest of the night.

#astarion fanfic #1950s au #baldurs gate au #astarion au #astarion 1950s #wifestarion #house wife astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x male oc #astarion x male tav #astarion angst #astarion fanfiction #astarion modern au #astarion smut #bg3 smut #smut #male/male

53 notes · View notes

infin1ty-garden · 1 year ago

Text

GUARDIAN ANGEL

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ ✦ summary: hearing rumors of the fountain of youth and finally finding a heading, nikolai decides to follow the rumors ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ ✦ pairing: nikolai lanstov x gn! siren! reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ ✦ warnings: drowing, darkling, a bit of spice ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ ✦ word count: 2k ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ ✦ author note: inspired by this and sorry for not posting in a while I was on vacation

masterlist.

"Are we sure that compass even works?" Asked Tamar swaying from side to side due to the heavy rain and storm they were passing through. "It points to what the holder wants most. I think the instructions are pretty clear," Nikolai's attention only being on the compass. It's arrow spinning from one direction to another.

"You are going to crash the ship," yelled Mal as he fell down sliding to the other end of the ship. "Don't worry we're almost there," and then he let go of the wheel entirely. Tolya grabbed it but as if they'd entered another dimension. The storm was nowhere in site and not that far away, an island.

"See, I was right," as he said that the ship hit something causing him to fall overboard. He tried to swim up but the waves kept crashing in on him. He could hear people yelling for him and orders being thrown around. They turned incoherent as he sunk deeper.

He felt two hands taking hold of his arms as he was lifted out of the water in seconds. Once he managed to open his eyes, he was miles from the ship. He wanted to turn and see his saviour. "Don't strain your body too much, just relax your safe," he heard the most angelic voice say.

In a blink of an eye his feet met the sand. He coughed up what felt like half the ocean. When he turned to thank his saviour they were nowhere to be seen. Had he imagined it? Then he saw it, his ship being attacked by sire

But he could not help his crew. If he even attempted to swim to them, he would be instantly attacked. His gun was wet, so it was useless, and what could he do with a sword. All he could do was watch and hope they make it.

Most of the crew was alright. No deaths but they had to dry dock the ship, as going in the row boats would have been a death wish. Now, they had to find the chalices. "Captain," Tamar handed him a spyglass. Looking through it he saw Second Army flags. The Darkling was here or his grisha were.

"How did they get here before us?" Alina asked bewildered. "It doesn't matter we just need to get the chalices before them," he really should have better timing. "Hand over the map," the Darkling appeared, along with his forces. "There's no map," Nikolai replied, confidence radiating off of him in waves.

Then one by one his grisha disappeared until he was the only one left standing. "You and what army," Kirigan looks behind himself. Worry coating his face but then he smirked. "I don't need an army," as he raised his hands the sand beneath his feet disappeared. He dropped down into the newly formed puddle like it was a slide.

"Well, that happened," all anyone could do was nod along to Mal's statement. As they continued on following the compass, it seemed to lead them in circles. "I think your magic compass stopped working," Alina gave him a sympathetic look. "We have more company. Tamar reported seeing Fjerdan and Shu ships," great just what they needed.

"We still need the two chalices. Let me give that map a try," Mal took the map from Nikolai. The map was written in a language no one could understand. It wasn't in Fjerdan, Kerch, Ravkan, Shu, Zemeni, Suli, or even Old Ravkan. But now that they were actually on the island, they could at least recognise the landmarks drawn. Mal's tracking skill would finally come in handy.

After spending hours walking, they've decided to make camp and rest for a bit. They couldn't let the Fjerdans or the Shu be the first to discover the secret to the fountain. As Nikolai was starting to close his eyes, he heard a splash of water near him. He looked to where he assumed the sound came from and was met with the most beautiful pair of eyes.

Was this the person that saved him? He couldn't be sure. He slowly moved towards the person, worried that any sudden movement might scare them away. "I am not some kind of rabid animal," that voice, his guardian angel. "Your friends are on the west side," you could mean the Fjerdans or the Shu.

"They're not our friends," you sent him a sceptical look. He suddenly remembered why they were on this island in the first place. "You wouldn't know where someone could leave two chalices around here, would you?" At this point Nikolai was fully laying down in the mud that surrounded the pot of water.

His face inches away from it. "Hypothetically, I would know where something like that could be hidden." He smiled and then asked. "Hypothetically, could you show me?" You disappeared, only to emerge a few seconds later. Slowly moving closer to him as he had done only minutes ago.

What you did next was a surprise but not an unwelcome one. You kissed him. It was slow at first, as if giving him the chance to pull away if he so wishes. Instead he placed his palm on the back of your head. Pulling you as close as he can and uped the ferocity of the kiss. You placed your fingers at the bottom of his chin.

Putting slight pressure on it, due to this he opened his mouth. You quickly slipped your tongue in. He felt something foreign enter his system. You quickly pulled away and submerged yourself, only the top part of your face could be seen. Watched him swallow whatever you had just given him. I really hope I don't die from this.

You made a motion with your hand for him to enter the water. Waited for him, as he took off his jacket and shoes. His feet were searching for the bottom of the pond or whatever it was. He felt a hand grab his foot and pull him into the water. "You're taking too long," he realised he could breathe underwater. You gently grabbed his waist and he placed his arm around your neck.

He finally saw your tail. You were a siren. He was so gonna die but why had you saved him and why were you helping him now. He had too many questions. None of which he could ask. As soon as he had entered the water he was out of it. In Front of him was a ship, but none of the text in any language he knew. It did match the art on the map.

"Thank you," you nodded with a smile on your face. He walked closer to the ship. It was suspended in mid air. Wedged in between two huge pieces of stone. How could he get up there?

He finally entered the ship with your help and a lot of trial and error. Each step on the deck was taken with extreme consideration as one wrong move could send the ship falling. Even if the ship seemed to have been here for years with the plants that have taken over the deck. Nikolai didn't want to take any chances.

As he descended down to the lower levels of the ship, he was greeted with copious amount of dust and rot....and gold? But he had little care for it. Maybe after they find the fountain of youth, he could bring some of that gold back to Ravka. One room in the ship was clearly meant for dining. The table comfortably fit nine people.

The seats were filled with skeletons. The stench of the rotten food and empty glasses of wine could signify that these people were poisoned. The ship without a crew was probably left to roam the sea and had met its journey's end. Crashing into the rocks. Or maybe all of them have been stabbed, who knows.

The chalices were nowhere to be found. He went searching different rooms until he reached the captain's quarters. In the middle of the room the captain was sitting a skeleton like the rest of the crew but on the bed next to him a chest. Nikolai made his way to the bed as he did the ship swinged and then the voices came.

He wasn't alone anymore but he recognised one of them as Zoya. He needed to work faster. He got to the chest but it was locked. Nikolai could hear the voices getting closer. The key was laying on the chain around the captain's neck. Unlocking the chest and...nothing, just some documents. Where could the chalises be? He looked in the drawers, desk and finally under the bed.

There was another chest, this one without a lock in it, the chalices inside. Then the door burst open. "Hand them over," before he could think or even form a plan the ship was falling. When he awoke he was tied up, next to him, Zoya. The flags were the first thing he'd recognised, Shu. The second one, that they were tied to a tree. "Finally, the sleeping beauty's awake," one of the guards said.

Whatever they'd done to Zoya, she'd seen better days. Cuts were littering her face and bruises were starting to form. "The others," he'd simply asked. "Probably dead." The guards had left their posts to fetch their superior. In the corner of his eye, Nikolai could see something being thrown next to his feet. A knife, he quickly picked it up and placed it near his hands. Cutting himself and Zoya lose.

"We need to plan our next steps carefully since we don't have our weapons," just as he said that his and what he assumes is Zoya's sword were thrown out of the water. If she had found the ordeal weird, she didn't mention it, just grabbed her sword. "This way, I saw them place the rest of the weapons there."

They managed to escape the camp unseen. "I will let you go but the next time we meet, you won't be given the same courtesy," with that she disappeared in the forest.

The chalices weren't with the weapons. The Shu must have taken them. Then out of nowhere Tamar, Alina, Mal and Tolya come charging past Nikolai. Tamar carrying one chalice while Mal carries the other. "Sturmhond," Alina says just realising he was even there. "Run," yells Tamar as she grabs him.

Then he sees it, the Darkling and his volcra. His feet do the rest as he joins the group running. Hoping to lose him in the woods. "What happened?"

"What happened? Where were you? You left and didn't even tell anyone," Alina retorts.

"I got a lead to where the chalices might be."

"But WE found the chalices."

"And WE are going to lose them if you two don't shut it," Toyla interrupted, silencing them both as they hid. Once they saw the Darkling walk pass. They slowly walk in the other direction. "Where did you find them?"

"Near the entrance to some caves but that was nowhere close to where it had been marked on the map," Mal said in disbelief.

"Let me guess there was a river or some pond close by," Nikolai asked. Mal nodded. "But how could you know, it wasn't marked on the map." Nikolai shrugged. You must have taken them and brought them to his crew. "Now, we just need to find the entrance to the fountain," water splashed nearby. "Give me one moment," he said to the rest of them as he took the map and walked towards the water.

Tamar and Alina followed him. He kneeled down. "Yes," he asked, looking at the water. You slowly lifted your head and swam to where he was kneeling. He held up the map. Mal and Toyla joined the rest. Alina lifted her palms up as Toyla readied his weapon. "You are here and the entrance is here," now they could see the scales coating your arms, along with the tail.

All of them were thinking the same. You're a siren and you're helping them.

Thanks for reading! If you want a part 2 leave a like or comment

130 notes · View notes

delta-pavonis · 6 months ago

Text

Dreamling Week 2024 Day 2

banner art via WorldAnvil

Dreamling Week 2024 Day 2 Prompts (from @mr-sadman): Pirates, Hourglass, Flowers, Exhibitionism

Dreamling || Rated T || 975 words

tags (other than the prompts above): fantasy, urban fantasy, solarpunk, drow druid/sorcerer Dream, half wood elf bard/gunsmith Hob, investigator partners with a history, discussion of sex in public, discussion of kink, Dream is a little shit in every universe I don't make the rules

Read Part 1 here.

Hob cackles as he tucks the ornate hourglass under his arm and fucking runs.

“Oh, what the hell…” Dream drops the vase of flowers he had been planning on using as an improvised weapon and takes off after his partner. A partner who is rapidly climbing the rankings for stupidest sentient being Dream has ever known. “Gadling! What in the name of every god extant and extinct do you think you are doing?”

The half-elf startles for just a moment as Dream easily catches up to him despite the head start and the crowded market streets. “This is evidence, right?” He tilts his head towards the hourglass.

At this rate Dream is going to pull a muscle rolling his eyes at Hob. “We do not steal evidence! I do not have the least idea of where you learned how to be an investig–”

“Pirates!” He chirrups happily, skidding around a corner as horns start to sound the alarm throughout the resonant underground halls of the Duergar city.

The answer is so absurd that Dream is struck speechless.

Then a rumble sounds to their right and it has Dream reaching across Hob's chest to grab his gun in its shoulder holster under his duster. Luckily the gun and the hourglass are not under the same arm, because Dream is completely out of spells, both divine and arcane. He jumps ahead up the stairs and twists, taking two shots at their pursuers and grinning when he hears a shout of explicatives.

Another set of stairs, then they are scrambling up a wall, grabbing the bottom rung of a camouflaged ladder, and are back in the surface’s sewers before the next round of horns sound. Dream slides the cover over the secret entrance and breathes a sigh of relief as, with a golden shimmer, it seals itself once again.

Panting and apparently completely uncaring of the state of the water around their feet, Hob drops to his arse with a thud. Little bits of duckweed and algae slop up onto Dream’s boots.

“We should keep moving.” Dream scowls at his footwear as he also breathes in huge, heaving gulps. “We don't know the power of their artificers and–”

“Don't have ‘em,” Hob shakes his head. “It made bartering for certain items with them a total crapcircus because they didn't value the same basic material goods. Everything they do is mechanical. Non-magic. Luckily we didn't get stuck down there often.” Dream just stares at him; theoretically those are all common words, but fuck if he parses their meaning right now with the adrenaline crash just starting to take its toll. Hob smirks, lopsided and definitely not charming. Absolutely not. “Pirates, remember?”

He feels a headache coming on and so pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you actually trying to tell me that before joining the Houndsguild you were a Hawkshaw?”

“Uh… yes?” Hob blinks at him as if Dream is the one asking the dumb question. “Thirteen years. Is that so hard to believe?”

Dream just stares. If this half-elf was a Hawkshaw, one of the pirate codekeepers (the closest to lawmen such outlaws might ever get), then there is so much more here to uncover, so much more to Hob, that he isn't even sure where to start. Hob drops back down in Dream's mental rankings of stupidity. Dream breathes out and now, a little calmer, some of Hob's behaviors slot into place. The impulsivity. The recklessness. The charisma to get himself out of just about any problem caused by said impulsivity and recklessness. “No, actually, now that I think of it. It makes some sense.”

The smile that brightens Hob's face is also extremely not charming. Or cute. No. Not at all. “Help me up?” He holds out his hand and Dream automatically grips his forearm as he continues to speak, “I know we got off on the wrong foot when we first met, but I hope you are coming to realize that in this, in solving cases like these at least, I am actually competent.”

Dream nods, but also cannot resist the opportunity for a good jibe. “It at least explains why when we first met you were balls deep in the barmaid bouncing on your lap in the middle of a crowded tavern.” He smirks back, trying to convey that he isn't really judging, just teasing. “Never met a Hawkshaw who didn't want to be the absolute center of attention.”

Hob splutters out a laugh and gets his feet under him, blushing all the while. “Hey there! It is a specific tactic! Think of it like slight-of-hand and bardic performance had a baby, but it acts on a group level. While everyone is busy watching me…”

“Your fellows are working without being noticed.” Dream shakes his head ruefully, ceding the point to Hob. “Not bad.”

“Fun, too.” Hob's grin goes lopsided again as he waggles his eyebrows and he stares at Dream for a beat longer than necessary. Dream has to resist fidgeting under that warm gaze and so distracts himself with their usual banter.

“If that is your kink, then I am sure it is fun.” Speaking of fun, watching Hob's eyes widen and his neck flush when Dream says ‘kink’ is extremely fun. He studies his fingernails and tries to exude nonchalance. “Exhibitionism isn't really to my taste, though. More of a leather and ropes type myself.” He hears Hob inhale sharply and smirks, still not looking up. “Did you know that if you get strips of leather soaking wet they shrink and constrict as they dry?”

Dream looks at Hob through his lashes, sees him open-mouthed and panting, eyes dilated. Delightful.

Maybe he will be able to get through this partnership with his dignity intact after all. Or, at least, Dream certainly won't be the first one to lose his composure.

#Dreamling Week #Dreamling Week 2024 #solarpunk urban fantasy AU #drow druid/sorcerer Dream #half wood-elf bard/gunsmith Hob #Pavonis writes

36 notes · View notes

tethys-the-aquatic-sea-godness · 4 months ago

Note

Perhaps Viconia and Sarevok are changelings 🥲

I'd take any explanation that fixes the shitshow that are these two quests, major quests mind you, not side quests you can ignore. It'd be funny if they were changelings, because they'd be pretty lousy ones. Or rather a lousy one, and one who doesn't have to do much work (warning: I started ranting)

I mean, for reminder, this is viconia:

And this is... a drow:

Skintone: wrong

Age: they were drunk or they didn't try, possibly both. Viconia is a drow, a full elf, meaning +700 years of life expectancy, and they made her look as old as Jaheira, a half-elf. A 100 years should be nothing to her, she should look basically the same.

Distinctive marks: her beauty mark above her lip on the left side of her face isn't there. It's like Jaheira's braids or Minsc's tatoo, it sets her apart. Without it, it's not her.

As for Sarevok, well, with his armour and his helmet, you see like 1/4 of his face, you could put anyone in there, and slap face paint on. So not too much work for a changeling.

But if it makes you feel any better, you can actually get in game clues that hint neither of those characters are who they claim to be. These hints are never remarked upon or pointed out by any characters, you have to find them and take the time to read them.

This, for example, is the description of the drow's dress (also BG 3 has a problem with treating its clerics like anime healers. This is DnD, clerics wear mail or plate, unless they multiclass with wizard, but I digress):

Dulls senses, thoughts, feelings... sounds like a good dress for brainwashing, not having an efficient cleric. It's not hard to imagine Shar being salty enough that Viconia left her cult that she picked another of her drow cleric to take Viconia's identity. Keep her 'working' for her in spirit as payback. One of Shar's whole thing is about forgetting all, including yourself. Switching her followers' identity to suit her whims wouldn't be out of place. I could see a 'Shadowheart' mother superior in the future, with little in common with her template beside being a half-elf. Shar is the type to hold grudges. Ask Selûne.

Now Sarevok comes with a failsafe too. Let's ignore's Jaheira's delirious episode where she spouts absolute nonsense that has no basis in either BG 1 or 2. She's not that young anymore, she's spent time in the shadowlands and she has kids to look after, she's under a lot of stress. We'll call it a breakdown.

If you dig around for loot, you can come across this book: Disorders of the Nerves and Mind: A Treatise

Here you read about how a totally random guy started calling himself 'Sarevok' and talking about 'raising the father', after finding (and reading?) a strange book.

If you remember the previous games, you may recall a dream sequence in SoA:

Bhaal is perfectly capable of using Sarevok's appearance for his avatar. If you add to that the fact that before he was killed by Cyric, he was already too weak to have his own form and only existed through possessing the bodies of murderers, well, it's not hard to imagine Bhaal using a random murderer's body and passing it off as Sarevok. He's the first Bhaalspawn who rebelled and tried to usurp him, you can't tell me Bhaal isn't salty about that.

Now obviously, this is me drawing conclusions from scraps found within the game. I don't think it's a 'fix-it', or that it makes Sarevok and Viconia's butchered characterization alright. Especially since these scraps don't mean anything in the narration. I've said it before, but they read like room for deniability, they feel too specific not to be. Like someone knew it was trash and they tried to patchwork an exit. But like I said, without relevance to the narrative, it's meaningless.

Regardless of any explanation, as far as I'm concerned, neither of the people we encounter are the real Sarevok, or the real Viconia.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 critical #larian critical #bg 3 critical #i guess #is it critical if it's true though #cause they messed this up big time #sarevok anchev #viconia devir #rant

24 notes · View notes

littlemourningstarr · 2 months ago

Text

Wicked Thing

The Blushing Mermaid isn't where Astarion typically spends his night, but occasionally it's nice to experience the change of scenery. Not that the scenery is holding his attention, when Sekh decides that the night should take a more devious and wicked turn.

Kinktober 2024, Day 4: "Clothes on / dry humping / frottabge"

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Transmasc tav, frottage, through clothes, dirty talk, public sex, exhibitionism, intoxication, kinktober, kinktober 2024

Astarion laughed, quite loudly, at the sight of a few tavern patrons drunkenly attempting to dance. Across the room the band was playing loudly- loud enough that it had to keep half the lower city awake.

He expected nothing less at the Blushing Mermaid.

Not his usual haunt, but he had wanted a bit of liveliness to his night, and there was just a bit too much respect between he, Sekh, and Alan at the Elfsong for Astarion to fully indulge. Besides, somehow the patrons there kept themselves just a bit more in check.

He leaned back in his chair, watching the sight unfold. He was so engrossed with the drunken antics of these strangers that he missed the sound of footsteps approaching him. He was only brought out of his near trance when a metal cup was set on the table in front of him. He forced himself to turn away from the sight, found Sekh looking at him with a dancing amusement in his lovely, mismatched eyes.

“What’s got you so distracted?” the drow asked, holding his own cup. “I said your name and you didn’t even move.”

Astarion gave a nod to the mess that had grown in front of the band, as he picked up his wine cup. He took a sip, savoring the heavy red- not as decedent as what he could be feasting on, but gods he would never remove wine from his diet.

Sekh gave a single, loud, almost cawing laugh at the sight, before he shook his head, lifting his own cup and taking a sip. Astarion leaned back a little, reaching down and gently patting his thigh.

“Watch the disaster with me?”

Sekh didn’t need a second invitation, the vampire knew. His husband settled down into his lap, allowed Astarion to wrap an arm around his waist, lean his chin onto his shoulder as they watched the mess unfold. The band was quite invested in the mess of people that had begun to swarm around them, encouraging the rowdiness with open arms.

“Most of them won’t remember this come morning,” Sekh mused, lifting his cup and taking another small sip. Astarion caught the scent, something stark, not at all like the blush wines Sekh typically drank.

“What are you drinking my sweet?”

“Whiskey.” Astarion lifted his chin from Sekh’s shoulder, turned to glance at him properly. The drow merely glanced at him from the corner of his eye and offered a coy little smile. “What?”

“Considering how quickly wine puts you on your knees, I’m just wondering what your plans are considering your… stronger drink preference.”

The coy grin grew devilish. “On my knees? Starshine, are you thinking of something? Being hopeful?” Astarion tightened his arm around Sekh’s waist, and the drow wriggled in his lap, creating a delicious, heated friction that had Astarion biting at his cheek, reminding himself not to buck his hips up.

“Just an observation.”

“I make observations,” Sekh pointed out. “You, my love, make fantasies.” Astarion couldn’t argue with that. He sipped from his own cup, glancing back around the upper level of the tavern. He was rather enthralled watching an elf woman having quite her wicked way with a half orc man to whatever bawdy beat the band was playing now, when he felt Sekh pinch his thigh. “Look over by the windows.”

Astarion glanced in that direction, caught sight of two tiefling women, both heatedly kissing as if they were delving for each other's souls. One quite obviously had her hand between them, slipped into the other’s pants.

“Bold,” Astarion mused, even if there was almost a strange sort of security to fucking about in the open here. No one at the Blushing Mermaid would bat an eye- and it wasn’t as if the patrons were going to be running to the Flaming Fists crying about some indecent behavior.

It was expected at the Blushing Mermaid- and frankly, if Astarion didn’t see at least a few couples reaching their bliss in not-quite dark enough corners, he would be complaining.

“Do you need more wine?” Sekh asked, shifting about in his lap again. Astarion chuckled.

“Sekh, you just brought me this cup.” The drow clicked his tongue- and then Astarion watched as he tipped his head back, emptying his glass in two solid swallows. The bob of his throat was hypnotizing.

“I think you need more.” Sekh stood up, sauntering away- gods, was Astarion losing his mind, or were his hips swaying more, his pert ass making Astarion’s fangs ache.

What was that fiendish little man thinking?

Astarion forced himself not to dwell on it- after all, why ruin a surprise- and continued to sip at his wine, choosing to simply enjoy the bawdy scenes unfolding in front of him.

Sekh reappeared quickly, setting a second cup of wine on the table, ready for when Astarion was done with his first. The vampire expected him to settle back onto his lap as he had done previously, but Sekh instead faced him, straddling his lap perfectly and choosing to reach out, tangle his free hand in Astarion’s wild silver curls.

“Darling?” Astarion asked, before he felt Sekh grind down onto him, his cunt perfectly poised against the shape of his cock. His breath hitched, his cock twitching to life quickly at the mere chance of Sekh’s pretty cunt. “Sekh?”

“Should I stop?” The drow had a subtle flush to his cheeks, and Astarion watched as he threw back another shot of whiskey. Or more than, by the way he had to swallow a few times.

“You’re drunk,” Astarion teased, “already.”

Sekh reached behind him, set his empty cup on the table. He moved then to drape both arms over Astarion’s shoulders, grinding down onto him again. “That wasn’t an answer to my question.”

Astarion bit his lip, a fang poking out against the supple flesh, before he gave a single shake of his head. Gods, no, he didn’t want his husband to stop. If Sekh wanted to flirt with a bit of trouble tonight, he was most certainly on board. It was always delightful to see what his darling drow could get them into.

His drow smiled at that, leaning closer and nuzzling into Astarion’s neck as he continued to grind. “Just keep enjoying the sights,” he whispered, placing a single kiss to the scars on the vampire’s neck. “If anyone looks over they’ll just think I’m drunk and clinging.”

“They wouldn’t be wrong.” Still, Astarion kept a little smirk, his cock half hard now. He felt more than heard Sekh’s little laugh, and his free hand reached around his husband, toyed with the hem of his shirt. He felt Sekh’s teeth graze his neck, his scar- and let his eyes flutter shut. Oh, there was a comfort in this man’s teeth where the bastard’s had once been.

He didn’t even realize one of Sekh’s arms and left his shoulder, was squirming between them, until he felt him palm his cock. His eye flew open, but Sekh still hadn’t raised his head, was simply rubbing along the shape of his shaft. His cock throbbed against his clothing, beckoning for the feel of Sekh’s palm, his skilled fingers.

“Is there an end in mind for your game?” Astarion managed, swearing for a moment he was going to lose his grip on his wine cup.

Sekh lifted his head, made a point to look away from Astarion, as if he was surveying the tavern. He spoke just loud enough that the vampire could hear.

“Preferably, you coming for me.”

Astarion almost squeaked, a little sound leaving his throat that had Sekh laughing, tipping his head back so all that free ginger hair could cascade along his back, like molten flames. Gods, why was he beautiful when he laughed? All these years, and Astarion’s heart still hammered back to life at the mere sight of Sekh’s joy.

“Is that agreeable?” Astarion managed a nod, and Sekh turned back to him, moving his hand away so he could grind down directly on Astarion’s now fully hard and rather aching cock. Sekh leaned in, and Astarion tipped his head, expecting a kiss- but instead of feeling his drow’s mouth on his, he felt his lips skimming the bridge of his nose in a shockingly chaste and affectionate action, given the circumstances.

Astarion let himself whine, let his hips push up against Sekh. Gods his cunt was right there, damned clothing aside. Just a few layers kept him from being buried inside the man, that wet heat clenching at him, dragging him in deeper and deeper-

Sekh gave a bemused giggle, a sure sign the whiskey was hitting his system. The sound was down right cute, and Astarion would have to muse about that later. In that moment, he couldn’t think much beyond his cock.

“You thought of something good,” he mused, “I felt you throb for me.” He slipped his hand back between them, was nearly stroking Astarion through his pants, the friction shockingly enough to make an ache begin to build in the vampire’s spine.

No, not surprising. With Sekh everything felt good- he should be quite used to that now.

“Just your cunt,” Astarion admitted, swallowing down a groan. The band was still loud enough to drown out most noise, but he still had to keep himself in check. He couldn’t very well begin screaming for his drow.

Sekh hummed, leaned in, whispered into his ear, “What about it?” When Astarion didn’t respond, Sekh gave his cock a firm squeeze, before rubbing at the sensitive head, through all that clothing. “How wet I get for you? How warm I am? Or just the sweet feeling of when I come around you and you can sink yourself so deep inside me you’re in my fucking bones?”

“Fucking gods,” Astarion breathed, his underwear now damp with precum, pressing tight to his cockhead. Sekh kept teasing it, making a pulsing bliss continue to rise up his spine.

“Leave the gods out of this,” Sekh whispered, nipping at his earlobe. Astarion shivered. “There’s only me here, my love. The gods could never dream of doing to you what I want to.”

Astarion gasped, bucking against his hand, feeling trapped in his own skin. He was panting lightly, so fucking close. Gods below this man…

“When you come,” Sekh whispered, gripping the shape of his cock harder, shifting his hand and rubbing faster, “kiss me so I can swallow your pretty scream.”

Astarion gulped down a breath, swore his vision was swimming. The moment Sekh lifted his head he turned, found his husband’s mouth and kissed him desperately, a relieved groan shaking from his throat as he came. The pleasure welled in him, encased and embraced his spine, made his belly feel knotted yet light, as his cock pulsed a wave of cum into his underwear- and then another.

Sekh bit at his lip, sucked at his tongue, took every noise and unneeded little breath, until Astarion was lax, beneath him. He felt boneless- barely aware as Sekh’s other hand reached for his wine glass, managed to grab it before Astarion dropped it completely. His drow leaned back, set it on the table, and Astarion reached for his waist, gripping it tightly, trying to keep from falling off the face of the realm.

Sekh leaned back in, cupped his face, pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “Good boy,” he whispered, and Astarion swallowed the whine he wanted to give.

“Wicked thing,” he managed, and Sekh grinned- glorious and devious, mind numbing and heart stopping.

He didn’t respond to that- there was no response. It was simply the truth. A truth that Astarion hoped they would continue to explore, as the night progressed.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #sekh'met #sekstarion #astarion/tav #astarion x tav #kinktober #kinktober 2024

13 notes · View notes

moonselune · 5 months ago

Note

So I'm writing a longfic and throughout it Minthy adopts a half-drow kid, but I wanted to see the idea as a stand-alone snippet written in your marvelous style, if you're up to it <3

Okay I'm going down the road of accidental child acquisition and for some reason or another she has this half drow kid with her when she is trying to take over Menzoberranzen. I see her plotting in a tavern pre her return, and she just has this kid with her who is trying to show off their latest trick.

Minthara sat at a weathered wooden table in a dimly lit tavern, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on her intricate maps. Her sharp eyes scanned the lines and markings, plotting her next move to reclaim Menzoberranzen. Beside her, a half-drow child fidgeted restlessly, trying to capture her attention.

"Minthy, look! One hand!" the child exclaimed, balancing precariously on a table with one hand.

"It's Minthara, not Minthy, and I am trying to—oh, by the gods, get down from there, now." Minthara snapped, glancing up from her maps. The child wobbled, their hand trembling under the strain.

"Shut up, child eater."

"Sun scum."

"Spider kisser."

"Mongrel."

"Murk—Ow!" The child's arm finally gave way, and they tumbled off the table, landing in a heap on the floor with a crash.

Minthara sighed, a small smile playing on her lips as she smoothed out her maps. "I told you to get down from there," she chided, though her eyes softened as she glanced at the child. Seeing the devious grin forming on their face, she knew they were uninjured. She then stood up abruptly, thwarting the child's plan to kick the chair from under her.

"No fair…" the child grumbled, brushing themselves off.

"Then be better," Minthara retorted as she retrieved the chair that had been unceremoniously kicked across the room.

"Then be better," the child mocked, quickly ducking to avoid the small book Minthara tossed at them. They settled on a nearby chair, drawing their legs up to their chest and huffing. "I'm bored!"

"Then make yourself useful and come plot with me," Minthara said, her tone softening slightly.

"Really?" The child's eyes lit up with excitement as they scrambled off the chair to join her at the table. They peered over the edge, trying to make sense of the intricate plans sprawled across the surface.

"Yes, really," Minthara replied, pulling them closer. "Look here," she pointed to a marked section on the map. "This is where we'll stage our ambush. What do you think we should do to catch them off guard?"

The child's brow furrowed in concentration as they studied the map. "Maybe we can hide in the shadows here," they suggested, pointing to a narrow alleyway.

"That's a good idea. We'll use that to our advantage." Minthara nodded, a proud smile tugging at her lips. She patted the child's head, affectionately, she then motioned for them to grab a chair and sit next to her.

Throughout the night they plotted and schemed, Minthara passing on all that she knew to her new prodigy. She made a mental note to start introducing them to poisons and toxins next, build up their immunity. As the moon peaked in the sky, Minthara was drawn from her thoughts by a light snore, the child had sworn that they were simply resting their head on her shoulder so they could get to see everything from her perspective. She should have known from their ceased chattering that followed soon that you had fallen asleep.

Sighing Minthara picked the child up, being careful not to stir them from their slumber. She had never thought herself particularly maternal, well at least not in the conventional sense, she knew she would be an excellent drow mother. Perhaps she could come to a compromise for this child.

Oh my god I had to stop myself from writing a full fic this was so much fun and I hope you like it - Seluney xox

#Minthara is in charge of a child #what could go wrong #minthara baenre #minthara bg3 #minthara

21 notes · View notes

meanbossart · 10 months ago

Note

I came here for Drow but I've fallen for Grod. So few people play half-orcs, much less make them so incredibly sexy. Thank you. I really want to learn more about his story. I'm new to the blog so I might have missed it, but where's he come from, what does he want, what makes him tick?

(also got this ask so putting them together)

First of all: I'm absolutely delighted that multiple people are this taken by Grodderick. AS THEY SHOULD BE.

Grodderick is a character I made for the BG3 fic I'm writing called A Novel Experience, it's over 100k words long and an exercise I gave myself to improve my writing and tackle my minor but Very Irritating adult dyslexia lol (which means, if you read it, expect it to have kind of a clumsy beginning - but I'm confident in saying that my writing got a whooole lot better thanks to it, and I'm very proud of a lot of the chapters I've put out in the last couple of months)

He plays a minor part, mostly as a voice of reason and a "flipside parallel" to some cast, if that makes sense. He's mentioned super early on but only makes an appearance with spoken dialogue way later.

The story can be found here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/50551582/chapters/127702666

And I did a whole writeup on his backstory (since none of it is really relevant to the plot, so it's not a spoiler) here! https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/740147028518223872/im-so-intrigued-by-grodderick-do-you-have-any

Ps: I know im super behind on asks, i've just been very busy! I'll make another compilation of them soon

#ask #grodderick #a novel experience

41 notes · View notes

sorcerous-caress · 8 months ago

Note

So I FINALLY got Minthara in my party after dilly-dallying for so long and WOOF ughh her fucking voice, wroww!!!! U r right, raspy and rough is the way to go. Forgive me shart, but my heart is about to be brutally ripped out of my chest for sweet sweet Minthy

Her voice is everything. I can't imagine a Minthara without a raspy rough commanding voice. It's such a fucking fresh breath of air from the usually whispy soft voices they give to drow woman to make them seem seductive.

Like, no, these woman wage wars, rule houses, and bark orders left and right. If anything, they should have authoritarian voices with egos to match.

Shadowheart's voice is very attractive yes and it works well for her character, same for Wyll and Astarion. It fits them to have honeyed vocals that could sway you from one decision to another.

But Minthara? Lae'zel? Their voices are top fucking tier because of how much they demand your attention and make you realise this isn't just another friendly npc.

I love women who have rough and deep voices! I'm tired of seeing every female villain have a "mommy" voice to appeal to the viewers because writers associate female power with seduction! I want a grumpy venom filled woman who spits and barks every word! Let her sound like she goes through 20 packs a day! Let her do that whilst not reducing her to a wild, oblivious barbarian to attempt to appeal to another margin of people.

Minthara is noble, regal, and aristocratic like a king. And just like a king, she isn't afraid to yell or speak harshly because that is her birthright.

I also like that Minthara has no make-up on. I love how it was a personal choice. She still presents as femme even without the need for make-up.

Because these small details really make you see how different drow culture is. That femininity is equated with power and command. That make up is not expected of woman as the minimum standards like with the humans, that it's turly a personal choice there and not a market profitting off of the insecurity they themselves make up about women.

How masculinity in drow culture is equated with submission and obedience. Women get to fight openly and throw around threats while men have to be the sneaky subtle ones who relay on manipulation and seduction.

Minthara not once wore anything to appeal to anyone's gaze. Her whole woredrobe is catered to her own taste and comfort. Even her camp clothes ooze power despite being revealing. What we think of as masculinity is her own way of expressing femininity.

Fuck imagine drows reaction to humans gender roles and clothes in comparison. Half human women clothes would offend Minthara because of how they're designed to cater to men rather than the person wearing it. Do you know how hard it is to find women's basics? How everything has to look sexy or extra tight for some fucking reason even basic white t-shirts? No wonder the humans are a laughing stock amongst the elves.

#♡Minthara #♡character study

20 notes · View notes

threerattsinatrenchcoat · 9 months ago

Text

Dance

Rejoining high society in Baldur's Gate had not gone smoothly, but in the slick way that only patriars could make something go "not smoothly". Like slipping down spiked ice. The process went quickly and slowly scraped away all of Wyll's resolve.

While Wyll was still a human, regular citizens seemed to regard him with the same discomfort as a tiefling—hell-touched, but maybe not his fault. Likely not his fault. He was, after all, the Blade of the Frontiers. And Karlach had taken every opportunity to remind everyone that he saved her. Perhaps, like a tiefling, he was simply paying for an ancestor's mistake.

But here, in high society, where everything was controlled and arranged, "bad blood" was a flaw worth judging. Most of the patriars had never actually met a tiefling, despite hundreds living in their city. Wyll suspected that his peers' frosty attitudes were less about the fact that he made a deal with a devil and more that he’d been caught.