#i was trying to take a screenshot of the way he looks at gale but I got the 'i'm innocent and perfect and cute please don't be mad 🥺' face

[zero-0-clock]

*sudden, loud explosion*

gale, speed running towards the sound: ARE YOU OK??? ARE YOU HURT??? WHAT HAPPENED??

Alnair:

Gale: WHAT DID YOU DO??!

[dekariosclan]

***END GAME SPOILERS*** (tried to keep the screenshots to a minimum)

There is a game ending where Tav can choose to become a mindflayer in order to defeat the netherbrain, and if Tav has romanced an origin character, each one has a romance epilogue reacting to Tav’s new form.

Some characters wish to remain loyal in their love, but acknowledge the difficulties this new situation will bring, and agree to move forward cautiously. Some struggle with the attraction/love aspect given Tav’s new form and want to move forward together as friends, but are unsure if it can ever be anything more. And some find it to be a threshold they cannot cross.

…but then we get to Gale.

Here’s the exact moment I fell out of my f*cking chair:

Gale: Your ‘present condition’ is that you’re the one I love. And your current form is merely a reflection of the depths of your sacrifice. It only makes me love you more.

——

Just…look at adoration on this man’s face. HE IS NOT LYING. He is enamored beyond belief with Tav, and not even slightly bothered that his love has been permanently turned into a telepathic brain-eating squid monster.

Gale loves Tav so purely that he gives absolutely zero f*cks about what Tav looks like.

95% of his dialogue for this marriage proposal is exactly the same as his romance ending where Tav has not changed into a mindflayer. Every other companion’s conversation is notably different than their usual romance ending, as they take on a somber tone while trying to plan a way forward with Tav as a mindflayer, but Gale?

Gale’s biggest concern is finding a wedding caterer that can provide his darling Tav with a three-tiered raspberry layer cake with whipped cream and brain filling.

Remember when he told Tav: “I said exactly what I meant—I love you. You should never, never doubt that”? He meant it.

Gale raised the bar from: “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” To: “Would you still love me and have an elaborate public wedding if I was turned into a horrific brain-eating tentacle monster?” He would.

I adore this man.

[charlunday]

You can't escape me that easily, coward!!

All the screenshots below are from @districtfourmermaid

[I'll be putting my responses in color for clarity]

#1: Firstly, your use of the word "romance" shows just how severely you misunderstood the relationships in the book. I recently delivered a presentation on "Love & Rebellion & Why People Hate The Hunger Games," in which I used a quote from Nina Jacobson. She says, "If you believe that people are fundamentally good—or capable of choosing to be good—then you’ll be more drawn to a model of governance that protects people’s rights, liberties, and independent thinking." In many of your posts, you reference Katniss being a badass woman who don't need no man. You take the rebellion at face value. I can guarantee you you'd eat up Plutarch's fire and fury propos. But you're a Gale kinnie, so that's understandable. However, if you read the book, you'd understand that the heart of any rebellion is love. Doesn't matter what kind, just love. Viewing the love triangle as a marketing tactic only flaunts your inability for complex thinking and your fiercely dated millennial feminism.

#2: This part is just.... an unbelievably shallow read. I have nothing else to say, so I will let Suzanne do the talking for me.

"No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else's arms have made me feel this safe." THG, chapter 22.

"This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another." THG, chapter 22.

“If he dies, I’ll never go home, not really. I’ll spend the rest of my life in this arena trying to think my way out.” THG, chapter 25.

"Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me. I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go." THG, chapter 27.

#3: I love how in this paragraph you completely out how self-centered you are. Because you don't want children (which is fine, btw), you automatically feel entitled to Katniss' story and her ending. I've seen you refer to her love story as "comphet" before, which only enforces my belief that that word should be taken away from people who never passed 8th grade English. At the beginning of the series, Katniss says she's never having kids. This comes from living in a world that is unsafe, a world she would never want to subject a child to. Meanwhile, throughout the series, we see Katniss act as an incredibly nurturing figure. She cares for Prim, for Rue, for Posy, and shows sympathy even for Capitol children. In the epilogue, her ability to have children is representative of the safety she feels in this new world. She even dreams about this world in Catching Fire while directly referencing Peeta.

I understand I'm not going to change your mind. You blocked me. Your idea of feminism is Francis Lawrence's big boom boom action movie. Hell yes girl power. If you looked past your idea of "comphet" and "heteronormativity," you would see a book and a relationship that revolutionized hetero gender roles in the late 2000s YA scene. Unfortunately, you fail to see that because you are blinded by your need to project onto a character.

Anyway, have fun repeating 6th grade until you're 50. I hope you get more than 30 notes on a post one day. Actually, I don't.

[avocado-writing]

If you’re still open for prompts, can we get Tav to bring Astarion for shopping, claiming she has no fashion sense, but in truth it’s to make him buy something for himself?

I don’t know if you’ve seen the free cam screenshots, but the inside of Astarion’s test is bleak and messy, and in the lower city camp he’s hanging filthy rags to dry above his tent, like he’s so used to only focusing on his outerwear that he forgot he can actually get himself some nice towels and bedding for personal use.

notes: what a sweet request! i get so many lovely requests for astarion and it's what he deserves tbh.

words: <1k

rating: T

“I’m not sure why you need me to come with you. Apart from because you’re in need of my stellar company, of course,” Astarion sniffs.

“Well, you have the best taste in camp, and I trust you with this sort of thing. Besides, what were you really planning on doing today apart from irritating Gale?”

Astarion makes a show of putting in a bookmark and slamming his novel closed, looking up properly at where you’ve wandered over to him. He pretends to be a bit irked, but he wasn’t really paying attention to the words in front of him anyway - he was too busy sneaking glances up at you as you helped out around the camp. It’s something he’s been doing a lot recently. His eyes are drawn to you. He is drawn to you. Magnetised. 

But that is far too raw-hearted and personal for you to know, so he’s desperately trying to hide his weakness for you beneath a layer of palette-knifed-on apathy. He suspects it isn’t working.

“Come on,” you continue, your pleading too sweet to be ignored, “it won’t take long. I just need to get a couple of bits for my tent, you know, to spruce it up. Please?”

Astarion groans. Secretly, he doesn’t mind. He’d quite enjoy it, actually. But if you know that then you suddenly have power over him, and the idea of letting someone have power over him again, even if it’s you, scares the unlife out of him.

Still, though. When your eyes are buttery-soft and there’s that furrow in your brow which comes with your sincere confusion, he feels his walls being shattered.

“Fine,” he groans, dramatically, “I suppose you do need some help picking out nice things. Let’s head off, then.”

He tries to ignore the way that his heart does a silly little leap when you light up at the idea.

And so, Astarion lets you drag him into Baldur’s Gate. He is once again overwhelmed with how much he missed the city - not during the times with Cazador, of course, but back in his youth, when he was able to stroll about and shop like this under his own free will. When he had a magistrate’s salary and a healthy portion of it could go on things like this, frivolous and fine things. Maybe he is a little bitter at first as you take him store-to-store, but he soon finds himself relaxing into the joy of a spree; when your hand tangles with his he lets you lead him around, quietly revelling in your delight as you leaf through linens and silks.

Your day together becomes a chorus of, “this one or this one?” holding up bedsheets for him to help you decide between, letting him make a lengthy decision as he tests threadcounts against his alabaster fingers. He helps you pick blankets, new soft towels for when you’re able to bathe (a luxury at the moment, but still…) some sweet-scented candles and incense for your tent to cover the smell of dirt caked into you all. 

He suggests lavender. It’s his favourite.

At the end of the day he watches you count out gold onto the final merchant’s counter before taking a heavy woven tote full of your purchases. It feels like a satisfying venture has been had, but he still feels a bit hollow - after all, your hands are full, and his are achingly empty. 

You stop when you clear the doorway back onto the street, and hold the bags to him.

“What? I’m not carrying your things for you. I’m not Karlach!” he says, appalled. You roll your eyes at him.

“I’m not making you my pack mule, Astarion. I doubt you could be - ” he’s about to interject and bite back at that little jab, but you barrel on regardless, “ - they’re a gift. This is all for you.”

He freezes. Blinks. Eyes drop down to the shopping as if it’s a Mimic, waiting for him to let his guard down so that it can eat his arm.

“All for me?”

You nod, and when he doesn’t move to take the handles, you gently open up his fingers like the petals of a flower and deposit them into his palm instead. 

He feels the weight of the new things. Of his new things. He doesn’t know how to respond. His brain feels blank.

“I have money, you know,” he says, partly defending himself against your kindness, and partly against the idea that you might think he’s in need of charity. You sigh and cross your arms, a sure sign of not taking any of his nonsense right now.

“I know, and I am perfectly capable of giving you a gift because I think you deserve one. There is no trick here, Astarion. I just thought you should have a couple of new bits because you barely buy them for yourself. You’re allowed to have nice things, you know.”

Ah. That hurts him a bit, not because you’re being unkind, but because maybe you’re being truthful. His hands became used to a needle and thread by candlelight, to tiny neat stitches done with such precision it was difficult to notice that anything he mended was ever damaged at all. But he does not live that life any more. He can open himself to the possibility of being pampered again.

He likes that idea.

He retracts his arms, clutching the shopping to his body, as if he’s afraid that you’ll change your mind. You smile at him so brightly that he feels as if you are the sun.

“...Thank you,” he manages, eventually.

“Any time,” you say, and he knows you mean that.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget @hopeful-n-sad

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Two

Summary:

You really want to get Astarion back for making you feel so flustered, but as a result you find yourself in a bit of an uncomfortable position.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 3.7k Tags/Warnings: unprotected p in v sex, under-the-desk blowjobs, semi-public sex, vampire bites, modern au, college/university au, urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, poor gale doesn't deserve this

Oh shit she's writing? I had like six other things planned but I can't keep away from this world. Once again thank you @zipzoomzaria for the beautiful screenshots and also the inspo for Professor Astarion, and @aw11tht33tha for the beta!

You don't need to have read part 1 for this part to make sense, but it does help.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

Ever since you slept with Astarion - or, perhaps more accurately, he fucked you mercilessly over his desk - you haven't been able to get him out of your head. It's been a little embarrassing, frankly. Every time you pass him in the hallway, a single glance over those round wire frames has you suppressing the moan that bubbles in your throat. One whiff of his fragrance and your pussy clenches in a Pavlovian response.

You're standing in front of your mailbox in the main office, reading some memo from the chair about season selection for next year. It's always a tedious process where no one can agree and you somehow all end up with shows you hate.

You smell him before you hear him, and you can feel your ears grow hot. He comes up behind you, standing closer than is probably necessary, and reaches above you to empty his own mailbox.

“Pardon,” he says politely, but you feel like he’s going out of his way to brush against you. A shiver runs down your spine as he very gently grazes the back of your neck while shuffling through the papers. 

He turns and starts chatting amicably with Grace. How can he stay so cool when you're practically in shambles? You pretend that you're still reading the short memo just to collect yourself. When he finally leaves the main office, you manage to turn around and imitate some semblance of a normal person. Grace catches your eye and frowns.

“Are you feeling okay? You're looking a little flushed,” she asks, genuine concern coloring her voice. You twist your face into a smile, hoping that it reads like gratitude rather than annoyance.

“Yeah, I'm fine, thank you. Probably just a little dehydrated,” you say, putting a little extra rasp in your voice to sell your story.

“I’m about to leave for lunch, I can grab you something from the student union, if you're thirsty.” She smiles sweetly, fully unaware of the double entendre.

“I'm good, I have some water back in my office. I appreciate the offer, though.” The smile is now plastered to your face as you move to leave the office. You bump into Karlach while trying to make a hasty exit.

“Gods, soldier, you okay? You look like you just got out of a sauna.” She claps you on the shoulder and your knees buckle. The technical director had spent 10 years in the army, so you can't really fault her for the nickname, or the smack to the shoulder, for that matter.

“Just a little thirsty, is all,” you reply, continuing to scoot your way out of the office. 

“Yeah ya are!” She points two finger guns at you and flashes a big suggestive smile. You freeze for a half second, then realize she’s making a generic lewd joke and not pointedly calling you out for your current condition. You awkwardly finger gun back as you finally slip through the doorway and book it to your office.

You sit down at your desk and grab your water bottle, taking a long sip. It's unbelievable how much of a hold he has on you. What you wouldn't give to be able to fluster him as much as he does you. Have him struggle for words. Make him look like an idiot in front of your colleagues.

You think back to your bathtub fantasy from a few days ago. You could not have predicted the dynamic more incorrectly. You really thought that you'd be the one in control, that you could have him coming undone for you. The image of him whimpering beneath you still sets your heart racing, though it can't be further from the truth. Your breath hitches slightly as the scenario plays out vividly in your mind, like your own personal erotica.

“It must be rather exciting, whatever's got your blood going that way.” His sultry voice interrupts your debaucherous thoughts and you yelp in surprise. You glare at him leaning in the doorframe, hands in his pockets and collar casually unbuttoned, looking like an absolute treat. He chuckles and saunters into your office, settling into one of the chairs across from your desk and crossing his lithe legs. Despite your newfound attraction, he's still an arrogant little shit.

“I thought you couldn't come in uninvited,” you scowl, keeping your voice low for fear of someone overhearing.

“I don't recall being invited last time, but you didn't seem to mind,” he says with a laugh, and you squirm under his piercing red gaze. “Regardless, the rule only applies to homes, not individual rooms within a public university.”

Your frown deepens, unsure if he's being condescending or not.

“Is there something I can help you with, or are you just here to frustrate me?” You lean back in your chair and cross your arms, trying to imitate his casual authority. You're not terribly successful.

“You seem to be doing that perfectly well yourself, the way I could hear your arteries pumping from down the hall.” His smile widens, flashing just a hint of fang, and your resolve weakens. He stands and stretches his arms above his head, his shirt raising just enough for you to see a sliver of porcelain skin. You’re positive he’s just doing this to annoy you.

“Well, when you have a free moment, stop by my office, I have something to show you,” he drawls, an almost bored lilt coloring his tone. “And do try to keep that pulse of yours under control, it’s distracting to the point of vulgarity.” He glances at you over his glasses one more time before retreating into the hall again.

You cross your legs, trying to ease the ache between your thighs. He's absolutely insufferable. And he’s so much worse now that he knows he has this power over you.

You gather your materials for Voice and Speech, plotting ways to enact your revenge.

***

Against your better judgment, you find yourself walking toward Ancunín’s office after class. You take a moment before knocking on the door, smoothing down the front of your dress and tousling your hair to give it a little more volume.

Suddenly the door opens and Mol comes barrelling out in a huff.

“D’you believe this berk? Gettin’ on my tail for ‘academic integrity.’ Ain't nobody more integrous than me!” she grumbles, adjusting her bag angrily. She turns her heated gaze to you.

“Can you talk to your boyfriend and tell him to leave me alone?” she spits and you splutter involuntarily.

“Mol, we’re not–”

“Come off it, miss. Everyone sees the way you look at ‘im. Just work your magic so I can get back to gettin’ a college education.” And without another word, she's off. You blink, trying to make sense of what just happened. Are the students talking about the two of you?

Shaking your head, you knock on the door frame as you walk into his office. It's just as cozy as last time, warm light emanating from lamps in every corner to compensate for the blackout curtains over the windows. Honestly, how does anyone not know he's a vampire? You can almost hear his excuse, something about how “direct sunlight is ruinous to one’s skin.”

“Destroying students' lives by keeping them academically honest?” you smirk as you gently close the door behind you with your foot. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I swear, that girl is too clever for her own good. I'd almost respect it if she didn't get on my last nerve,” he sighs, putting his glasses back on and glancing up at you. His expression softens for a second before quickly shifting to mischievous. You slide over to him, leaning against the edge of his desk as you face him.

Any animosity you may have held dissolves as he looks up at you, his hand absentmindedly stroking your thigh just under the hem of your skirt. You shiver as you try to keep your voice steady.

“You said you had something to show me, professor?” You emphasize the title with the gusto of a young porn star. He smirks and pulls you down until you're straddling his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck and grind your hips into him, feeling the beginnings of an erection. He lets out a little puff of air that can almost be mistaken for a moan. He buries his face into your tits, running his nose along the neckline of your dress and slides his hands under your skirt to cup your ass. You breathe in sharply, your breasts rising to meet his lips.

Then a knock at the door.

You both freeze and stare at one another. You hear a muffled voice on the other side.

“Dr. Ancunín, do you have a minute? I have something extremely important to tell you,” Dr. Dekarios from the School of the Weave shouts through the door.

Astarion instinctually replies, “Just a minute!” and the two of you share a wordless exchange.

-What the fuck are you doing?

-I don't know, I panicked!

-What am I supposed to do?

-Hide, perhaps?

Without thinking you slide off his lap and under the desk. Just in time, too, as Dr. Dekarios doesn't wait for Astarion’s permission to open the door and waltz right in.

“Dr. Ancunín, thank goodness, I hope I'm not interrupting anything.” You can hear the Arcana History professor rush in and eagerly sit down in the red velvet lounge chairs across from Astarion’s desk. You groan internally as you realize that you might be stuck here for an unbearably long time.

“Actually, Dr. Dekarios, I was on my way out,” Astarion says as he starts to stand before quickly reversing that decision. You realize with a smug sense of satisfaction that he’s still slightly aroused.

“Completely understand, I'll keep this brief, then. So, the other day, you and I spoke of the use of bardic magic and its position amongst playwrights in Renaissance England.”

“Yes, I recall,” Astarion responds through gritted teeth. He sinks back down in his chair,  resigned to sitting through this conversation.

“And how it was common practice at the time to use magic from the college of swords as decreed by Elizabeth? Ben Jonson, Marlowe, Beaumont and Fletcher, they all used college of swords magic.” Dr. Dekarios’ voice increases in pitch with his excitement. You suppress a sigh, preparing yourself for a long wait in this cramped space. It’s not particularly comfortable, especially with trying to keep out of the way of Astarion’s long legs.

Although…

You might not have to keep out of the way. Maybe if you just… brushed your hand along his leg…

Astarion coughs to hide the sudden intake of breath your touch causes. He crosses his legs and you smile knowing it's to give himself a little reprieve. A feeling you know all too well.

“Yes,” Astarion says, his voice frustratingly steady, “I recall your enthusiasm in telling me this.”

You're trying to read his response. Is he into this? Is this a game he wants to play? You test your luck again, dragging your fingers up his thigh more deliberately. His leg quivers and he shifts his posture as the Arcana professor continues.

“Well, I had a thought. Consider this: Shakespeare brought about a major shift in how we think of the Western theatrical canon as it pertains to bard magic, correct?”

You scooch forward and press your tits into his knees that are now pinched tightly together. You slide your hands up his inner thighs, prying them apart slightly. You lean into his legs further as your hands continue their journey upward, squeezing as they get to the top of his thigh.

He kicks suddenly, a soft thump into the back of the desk. Is he telling you to stop? You pull back and glance up at him, the top of the desk obscuring most of his face. He's stiffly nodding along to Dekarios’ rambling.

“And remind me, what other major storytelling convention did Shakespeare also shift during this time?” You honestly can't tell if he’s actually asking, or giving Astarion a mini exam in his own specialty.

You wait for a response from him. He lets his thighs fall open and gently nudges your hip with the side of his shoe. No, his foot.

This mother fucker is playing footsie with you?

Oh he is definitely into your little game.

You push his legs open again, this time sliding your hands all the way up to his cock, and you feel it twitch beneath the wool of his pants. You gently stroke him and his hips give a subtle twist into you.

“I'm not sure–” Astarion begins, but stops short when his voice cracks. You nuzzle his bulge,  running your lips across it as it hardens. You slip a hand under him and give his balls a gentle squeeze. You can hear his breath stutter, but it's unlikely Dekarios can as he quickly answers his own question.

“The humors, correct? My understanding of non-magic literature isn't fully up to snuff, but I am correct in remembering this, yes?”

You lick a fat stripe across the fabric and you hear a metallic click above your head, like his watch just made sudden contact with the surface of the desk. You can imagine the veins in his hands bulging as he clasps them together tightly.

“Hm, no, ah yes, you are correct. Most English Renaissance playwrights understood characters as a balance or imbalance of the four humors.” Astarion manages to keep his voice relatively even, and you know you need to up your game. You reach up to undo his belt buckle as quietly and efficiently as possible. Luckily, you’re able to hide the noise within Dekarios’ exclamation.

“Yes! That's exactly what I was thinking! So, hear me out. What if these two shifts were related? In moving away from college of swords magic, Shakespeare felt less constrained by the four humors. Or perhaps the other way around?”

You reach into his pants and free his cock, now fully hard, and tease your fingers along his shaft. His hips buck a little more forcefully, as though controlling his movement is growing more difficult. You grip his pelvis tightly, holding it in place, and relishing the fact that you have the control for once. You flick the tip of your tongue across his slit and his hips twitch again under your hands.

“Could be…” is all Astarion can manage to reply. Hopefully at this point Dekarios is in a full-on oration and he won't need to contribute much, if at all.

You pop the head of his cock into your mouth, working the underside of it with your tongue. You clamp your arms down on his thighs, pulling them closer to you and pushing them into your tits. Your inner thighs grow damp as your own arousal quickens. You squirm as a miniscule moan works its way into your mouth. Not loud enough for anyone to hear, you hope, but you're certain that Astarion can feel the vibration because his hips jerk again. His torso and face above, or at least what you can see of it, gives little away.

“And this could even,” Dekarios continues, showing no sign of awareness of anything else happening in the room, “signal the shift into realism, could it not? Beginning with Shakespeare and culminating with Chekhov and Ibsen in the nineteenth century?”

You take in more of him, relaxing your tongue and letting him fill your mouth, discovering his taste. He almost lifts off his chair in his attempt to thrust into you, and you use it as a way to take him in deeper. Your jaw is beginning to ache with how slow you're going, but it's worth it to feel Astarion’s frustrated discomfort.

You can hear him take a slow breath before speaking again.

“You know who would absolutely love this discovery of yours?” His voice is low, smooth, as you bob your mouth on his cock. “Tav, the classical theatre professor. Her office is right down the hall.”

You choke and he deftly covers the sound of your gag with a cough.

“Bless you,” Dekarios says after a fraction of hesitation. He continues as though there was no interruption at all.

“Then I shall share my findings with her! Down the hall, you say?”

“Room 208.”

“Excellent!” Dekarios stands and you wrap your hand around the base of Astarion's shaft, letting some saliva dribble out of your mouth to lubricate it. You can hear the wizard quickly make his way out the door.

“Gale!” Astarion yelps as you twist your hand and swirl your tongue in tandem. He clears his throat and corrects his decorum. “Dr. Dekarios, the door, please.”

“Oh, of course! Apologies,” he says with slight chagrin, and then you hear the latch on the door click. Astarion rolls his chair back and grabs your hair, pulling you out from under the desk.

“You saucy little minx,” he growls and you stumble forward and into his lap, your lips crashing into his. He easily tears through your leggings and underwear, exposing your dripping cunt to the open air.

This man is wracking up quite the clothing bill.

He slides two fingers into you, roughly stretching you out and you groan into his ear. 

“You didn't seem to mind,” you manage to squeak out, repeating his words from earlier with significantly less dignity. You grind onto his fingers with his cock trapped between you, and your clit slides against his shaft. Another shuddering breath rockets through you as your whole body clenches around him.

He yanks his hand out of you and you whimper at the sudden emptiness, but you don't need to wait long for him to grab your waist and sink you down onto his cock. You can feel the skin toward your perineum tear slightly but the stinging pain is nothing compared to the delicious stretch that comes with him bottoming out. He shoves his fingers in your mouth and you arch your back into him, the taste of your own juices flooding your tongue.

He keeps his other hand firm on your lower back as he thrusts up into you. You cling onto his neck, pulling his mouth toward your breasts as they rise and fall with your stuttering breaths. He takes his hand away from your mouth and slides the hem of your dress all the way up to your chin. His lips latch on to your nipple poking through the soft cotton of your bra.

“Gods, fuck,” you groan as you continue to roll your hips into his, and he flicks his tongue against your tit. You push down even further onto him and pull the cup down, pushing your now bare breast into his teeth. His eyes flicker upward, glasses sliding down his nose slightly. You bounce harder on his cock and grip the back of his neck tightly.

“Fuck, please, bite me,” you whine, aching to feel every part of him in you. He doesn't need to be told twice and he sinks his fangs into the sensitive flesh around your nipple. You cry out but try to stifle the noise by pressing your open mouth into his hair. You can smell that citrusy fragrance he wears and your fingers claw into him.

He sucks your blood out from around your tit, and with every swallow he laps his tongue against you, over and over. You're certain his devil tongue will be your demise.

Your pace increases and it becomes harder to suppress your moans. You clamp your mouth shut and bury your face into his ear. He releases your breast and roughly kisses you to keep you quiet, the taste of iron filling your mouth.

You come with an explosive cry that gets swallowed into his kiss. As you're still riding the wave of your orgasm you can feel his, his hips rutting as his dick throbs with the pulse of his semen.

The two of you finally slow, the sticky mess between you squelching lewdly. You listen intently past the sound of your heavy breathing to try to hear any indication that someone overheard. When you deem it safe, you let out a sigh of relief that dissolves into giggles. He drops his forehead into your shoulder as the hem of your dress gets overtaken by gravity and slides down your front

You disentangle yourself from him, wincing slightly at the feeling of him sliding out of your sore pussy. You get a better look at him, your blood still smeared on his lips and chin, his now-flaccid dick slumped above his waistband. You're certain you can't look much better, dress rucked up around your waist, hair mussed and sticking every which way. 

You methodically put yourselves back together, Astarion stuffing his wet dick back into his pants, you straightening your dress and hair. You catch his gaze again and somehow he still manages to make you blush, his crimson eyes peering over his frames. He reaches out to tuck a wayward lock behind your ear.

“Maybe next time we’ll have sex in your office,” he chuckles. You swat his chest playfully only to find yourself drawn into him, not wanting to pull your hand away. It's strangely romantic, and if you were able to think clearly, his hands snaking around your waist might bother you. But your head is still spinning and your cunt is still throbbing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and little could upset you right now.

That is, until the doorknob turns and Dekarios pops his head back in.

“Looks like she’s not–” His voice dies off quickly when he realizes what he's walked in on. He coughs, mumbles an incoherent apology, and backs out quickly.

“I swear to the gods I'm getting a scroll of arcane lock for that damn door,” he growls under his breath, and you lean your forehead against his chest in deflated embarrassment.

[alpydk]

Cabinet of Oddities (Part 15)

I just want to give a hug thanks to anyone who reads, likes, comments etc. Nana's story is a huge part of my life and getting to write it all has been an amazing experience that I'll be sad to see end. All of act 2 is currently written up but Act 3 is going to take me some time as I decide on the ending I best want for her. Again thank you, everyone <3 And if anyone is curious. Here are some screenshots to give you an idea of Nana and Thomas (Both were part of the DnD campaign.)

Ao3 link

Summary : She nodded and lowered her knees to be more open with him. “Long ago I felt-” She paused and Gale could feel her hand squeeze his as if she was seeking a type of solace. “When a person is in love, they say there is a warmth, a feeling of safety and longing. That feeling wasn’t there.” “A kiss does not necessarily have to mean love though, just as a hug certainly does not. Is that what you were expecting to feel?” He looked into her eyes. He had always been that of the hopeless romantic. As much as he wanted to believe his own words, he knew he was not the type to kiss without love, or at least potential love.

She woke up shouting a name. “Thomas!” The arms that wrapped around her didn’t bring comfort, only a feeling of being confined and she struggled against them as she fought her way from the nightmare. The tadpole seizing her moment of weakness shared the images that flooded her mind, the soldier in her arms, his skin enveloped in a cold sweat, his grey eyes closing forever, the pain in her heart as she held him to her chest sobbing that he shouldn’t leave her. 

She’d spent the night in Gale’s tent, the evening of poetry lasting considerably longer than either had intended. He had watched over her as she had fallen asleep on the cot wrapped in the softest blanket he owned. The way she’d curled up to sleep similar to how Tara did was something he found endearing and it was a long time before he’d been able to take his eyes off her. No, Gale. Now is certainly not the time to indulge in this type of consideration, not now that you know what you must do. When he heard her groan the first time he wasn’t sure if he had imagined it. It was only once he saw her tossing and turning, calling out in the cot that he reacted, putting his arms around her and holding her closely, stroking her hair, and whispering that she was safe, that he was there for her.

As the memory hit his thoughts, he finally understood the visions he had seen previously, the changeling holding the soldier. It was her and this man and he felt her desperation, her pleading with the gods to bring him back. Her actions made more sense to him now, her dislike of Mystra, her walls, and he tightened his grip upon her, holding her close, his fingers winding in her hair as she began to settle, the tears slowing their descent. “Shh, I’m here.”

She wiped her eyes and pulled herself slowly from his arms. He was hesitant to let her go but knew this was for the best. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while since that happened…” He could hear the shame in her voice.

“There is no need to apologise. We all have our own nightmares.” He thought of the orb, the dark corridor and the shadows that gnawed at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “No. I just- I want to forget.” 

He looked over at her. “That’s understandable, I won’t pressure you.” Seeing her in this state, all he wished was that he could hold her for longer, but too many times had he been pushed back. “I know you may be against this but in tough situations, people normally need a hug or to just be held, is there any reason you are so against it?”

Nana shuffled uncomfortably, trying to find a way out of his question. He’d seen the dream, he’d seen her holding someone so was it possible that it was he himself that was the problem? She was quiet as she answered. “I’ve never…” Her voice trailed out.

“You’ve never been held or you’ve never wanted to be held?” He seemed baffled by this situation. Nana was such an open person, she spoke, smiled, laughed, and was genuinely positive, yes he had noticed her aversion to touch, but to think that someone had gone all their life and never experienced something as simple as a hug seemed impossible to him. 

The tadpole writhed. “I’ve held someone, as you saw, but no… It’s hard to let people get close.” She felt the loss of Thomas and the more Gale looked at her, the more he saw her grow defensive, her knees folding up in front of her, her eyes looking away from him. “When you’re alone, it’s not really something that comes up.”

“Alone? And how long exactly had you been alone before our little misadventures?” Her silence was all the answer he needed. If he had believed that a year with only brief contact had been a long time, she had spent even longer with nobody by her side.

"Don’t look at me like that. There's been other people, when I was trading or when I adventured… There’s just not been a lot of touching, that’s all.” Nana composed herself, she wasn’t going to be made to feel shame over something that was her life. 

“But why precisely? Is it because…” He hesitated unsure if he should continue his line of enquiry. “Is it because you are a changeling?”

He could see her discomfort and he wished he had not asked. “Apologies Nana, I should not have been so tactless. You must understand though that all I wish is to help you, to get to know you.” He took her hand in his, showing he meant no harm. He could feel the warmth and when she didn’t move he felt a small wave of relief. 

Nana smiled, comforted by his apology. “No, no it’s fine. But no, it’s not because of that. I guess, I just don’t understand it. When you’ve grown up alone- Well, it doesn’t come naturally. Any touch becomes too much. It feels like all your skin is being shocked, and your mind is on fire. And after Thomas…” She paused, her face darkening as she willed away the memories. “It’s been getting easier though, with Astarion… with you.” She looked down at their fingers entwined with one another and Gale couldn’t help but see the way her eyes softened.

“Astarion? I guess I can understand that. He is quite direct with his advances.” He tried to quell the spark of jealousy. 

“When he kissed me I couldn’t go through with it.” Gale’s face fell upon hearing this and although he tried to be quick about hiding it, she had picked up on it. “It just felt wrong. Not the sensation, but like somehow I was being used in some way. Does that make sense?” 

“He kissed-” He took a deep breath pushing down the sudden irritation. “No, that’s not important at this minute. You rejected his advances I assume?”

She nodded and lowered her knees to be more open with him. “Long ago I felt-” She paused and Gale could feel her hand squeeze his as if she was seeking a type of solace. “When a person is in love, they say there is a warmth, a feeling of safety and longing. That feeling wasn’t there.”

“A kiss does not necessarily have to mean love though, just as a hug certainly does not. Is that what you were expecting to feel?” He looked into her eyes. He had always been that of the hopeless romantic. As much as he wanted to believe his own words, he knew he was not the type to kiss without love, or at least potential love.

She gazed back at him. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t expecting to feel fear though.”

“And, do you fear me?” He hoped that she would say no. That maybe this feeling could blossom, that all their unspoken feelings could be revealed and yet he was also nervous of her answer. That if she said no, it would be something else holding him to this mortal coil, someone else who would eventually realise he was not good enough. 

“No.” She turned her face to his, leaning her body into his chest, and he could feel the heat of her body against his robes. Slowly came the sensation of a soft hand resting on his cheek and he realised that maybe, just maybe, he was falling in love. 

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

As she felt the heat radiate from his body she pushed out the thoughts that tried to claim her. Is this really what you want? Is this the right time? He’s going to die. She found herself pushing herself into him, feeling the tenderness of his touch upon hers, the longing in her heart growing. Her body yearned for him and as she gazed into his deep brown eyes, she felt her tadpole connect with his. Just a single thought. Kiss me.

As his lips touched hers the world vanished, nothing but the sensation of the moment mattered. She felt his hand reach to the small of her back and she pulled her hips towards him instinctively. Could it really be this easy? Her tongue entwined with his and she could taste the subtle remnants of wine between them, a reminder of more than just a physical connection. Her hand moved from his cheek to behind his head, her fingers weaving with his hair. She wanted him, she wanted all she had missed out on, she wanted his love and to love him. She could focus on nothing other than him, her human form morphing to that of her natural changeling shape, her long red hair becoming short and white, her skin pale, her eyes colourless. 

Neither of them noticed as the tent flap opened and Astarion stood there in shock and bemusement. “Gale?”

Nana tore herself away quickly from Gale’s embrace, her eyes wide at Astarion as he tried to grasp what he was seeing. She didn’t know what to do. Now her secret was out, now they would all know, and now the hunt would begin. She pushed Gale aside and ran for the exit of the tent.

Astarion dodged out of the way as she ran past, confused at the image he was seeing. “Gale, what in the nine hells was that!?”

[baldurspeen69420]

Get To Know My Tav!

Tagged by @kelandrin!! Mwah mwah thank you thank you

Procrastinated on doing this because I don't have any new or good pictures of my Tavs and I'm currently away from my computer for a week BUT fuck it I'll just an old shitty picture

I've talked a lot about my girl Sophie, but before Soph was my Tiefling Byron who took me through my first playthrough. I wanna give him some love (screen lines and all sorry everyone, his skin also looks more grey and stony colored in game but im terrible at taking screenshots of my characters aggghhh)

Byron Graylock - Mephistopheles Tiefling - Storm Sorcerer - He/Him - 28

favorite weapon: If an enemy is at 1hp he will not hesitate to smack them upside the head with his quarterstaff just for humiliation points.

style of combat: High mobility and magic. This dude has at least five variations of misty step and fly on hand at all times. Subclass also lets him use gusts of wind to get around.

most prized possession: An old gold compass his stepfather gave him before leaving home.

deepest desire: To travel every corner of Faerun and all the lands of Toril.

guilty pleasure: Cheap wine and tavern gossip.

best-kept secret: Acts a lot more aloof, "above it all", and cool-headed than he actually is.

greatest strength: Ridiculously calm under pressure (on the outside at least).

fatal flaw: Ego ego ego. This man will drag himself through Hell and back to make a point. Stubborn enough to rival Lae'zel.

favorite smell: Salty ocean air and clean linens.

favorite spell or cantrip: Woe, Chain Lightning upon thee.

pet peeve: Wizards who think they know everything because they got their magic by reading a book or two. Also Gale.

bad habit: Judges people too quickly. This man possesses the most patronizing raise of the eyebrow known to man, it's killed at least two people.

hidden talent: Has memorized no less than thirty sea shanties and poems.

leisure activity: Fusses over his appearance in his downtime more than he would like to admit. Reading and sitting by the beach are also favorites.

favorite drink: When he sailed pre-Tadpole, he liked trying exotic teas in different ports. But wine is always good too. Never a big rum guy, despite his seafaring lifestyle.

comfort food: Scallops in lemon and butter.

favorite person: Eventually Astarion, but they started their adventure fucking hating each other. One of the stories he tells people is how Astarion had threatened to murder him no less than three times when they first met. His closest platonic friend in camp was always Shadowheart though.

favored display of affection (platonic and/or romantic): Not a big PDA guy, but in private he likes his hair brushed and/or stroked.

fondest childhood memory: The first time his human stepfather introduced him to people as his son.

Im tagging @saraptor @glitterdustcyclops @bladeofavernus @mistercrowbar @snailcommando @rosesforscully @new-austin @elveskissing and everyone else who would like to participate!!

I wrote way too much but this was very very fun.

[weaveandwood]

Ship questions!!! 💓

Did either try to resist their feelings?

Height difference/age difference?

Do they have nicknames for each other?

What's the wedding like?

Yessss thank you @elspethdekarios the perfect way to procrastinate running errands <3

Did either try to resist their feelings? Gale, definitely. Eventually, he realizes that they're always in danger and doesn't want to waste time. He just needs to figure out the orb situation - cue Elminster. I think once the orb is stable, he's less reluctant to tell Ora how he feels and physically can't keep it to himself anymore, no matter if he only has days, weeks, or months to live - he decides finally that it'd all be worth it.

Auroria doesn't really try to resist her own feelings, she just can't name them until Wyll calls her out on it in the Shadow Cursed lands - he tells her "I hope I can find someone who loves me as much as you love Gale." Record scratch. Oh shit, yeah I do love him.

Both of them are very flirty with each other from the get go, when Gale lands on her after pulling him out of the portal (because he SHOULD land on Tav, so I made it so! The power of writing!)

Height/Age Difference? Gale is "35" according to Larian (lol ok), and Ora is 37 (half-elf). I am choosing to believe that as a powerful wizard, Gale can extend his life using his power (I think like Clone or something? I haven't done much research). If not, I think Ora would be similar to her mother, who was a full elf in love with a human - that in her long and many years, she was lucky enough to have one great love to surpass all others and that was enough.

Height-wise, Gale looks like he's just a little taller than Ora in my screenshots. Since he's 6'2", I'm going to put Ora as 5'10". We love a tall girly.

Do they have nicknames for each other? Gale mainly calls Ora by either her preferred nickname (Ora, lol), or one of many versions of my love, my darling, dear wife, Mrs. Dekarios occasionally after they get married. Auroria actually would refuse to let anyone shorten her name to Ora (her best friend Zephia gave it to her and she refused to let anyone else call her by it after Zeph died during a hunt that Ora blames herself for), but after she finally grants the party permission, Gale never wants to call her by her full name again. Even in my fanfic his POVs only use Ora instead of Auroria when she's being described.

Auroria calls him Gale, dear husband, handsome wizard when he needs an ego boost, and occasionally brings back Karlach's "Magic Man" for laughs. She was brought up that nicknames were disrespectful to the person who gave you your name, so it's hard for her to use them, but she gets better over time.

What's the wedding like? Oh boy. Well, my wedding between Gale and Ora completely ignores the epilogue! I have a short story called Midwinter in Waterdeep, and to summarize, Auroria leaves Gale. Over a year later she finds herself back in Waterdeep for a job and they reconnect over a period of six Midwinters. I'm really proud of it, and I feel like it's a unique take on post-Netherbrain life - Ora was a nomad almost her whole life. The routine, the tower, the city all suffocated her. The compromise is that when she's between adventures, her and Gale live in a small cabin deep in the woods near Waterdeep that's enchanted to be invisible to everyone but them. It works for them. ANYWAYS. Here's what I wrote about their wedding.

He twirled the silver ring on his own finger, the twin to hers. He had felt the hum of the original sending stone only a few months after their last Midwinter, during Greengrass. He rushed to the cabin after classes were completed for the day, wondering why she hadn’t told him anything through their messaging stones, wondering if the original stones were malfunctioning. He had no sooner opened the door before she pulled him in and kissed him deeply. He led her to the bedroom, both of them shedding layers of clothing along the way as they reunited. Later that evening, she lazily ran her fingers through his hair as the dancing lights he cast hovered over them, lighting the room in a beautiful pale blue glow.  “Marry me, Gale.” They were married that week in a small ceremony, only Tara and Morena in attendance, though once word got out, many congratulations poured in from all over the Sword Coast. She had left later that week, and now she was finally coming home.

In my head, Gale wear this gold and white outfit mod that's floating around and Ora wears a floaty chiffon tank that's really drapey with a matching gold and white coset around her waist. She wears leather pants and some embroidered flats, since it's a special occasion. Both of them wear flowers in their hair since they're married during Greengrass. I do think that at some point they will throw a party for all their friends to attend that's more traditional for Waterdeep, but for the time being they relish their time together in their little cabin - whether its a day, a week, or a month or more.

Thanks for the questions this was so funnnnnnn, I love blabbing about my blorbos. It's my goal to make everyone else as obsessed with Ora as I am. <3

Questions from this ask game!

[fictionplumis]

Roche in BG3? 👀👀👀 I need to know more, please! would you share some screenshots? and maybe some thoughts on how he feels about his companions, the new experiences, etc.?

Ooo, I should take some screenshots!

As far as companions go, he has the most respect for Lae'zel even though they butt heads a lot, because he's very used to being in command Lae'zel is stubborn in the beginning when she thinks he's superior to everyone else.

He also respects Wyll even if he thinks the kid is naive. Wyll reminds him of who he used to want to be when he was younger, before the realities of the world really jaded him.

Gale is lucky to be alive because it's not Roche's first instinct to touch a glitchy magic portal. Astarian is also lucky to be alive because it's Roche's first instinct to stake a vampire trying to bite him in the middle of the night. Shadowheart is way too obsessed with a dark goddess and Roche honestly tunes most of it out.

So far it's been my most... Violent run. And that's including my durge playthrough. If you're interested, a summary of my playthrough so far is below the cut. I'm just starting Act 3 of this run now.

It's just that Roche doesn't take well to threats, y'know?

And like. He arrives in the druid grove to see Zevlor laying into some idiot kid, and immediately clocks that Zevlor is a commander and the kid is being a jackass, so Roche lays the kid out. The commander to commander bonding is real but as much as he wants to help Zevlor, he has more important issues.

So he goes to talk to Nettie, only to then see some druids threatening a mother who just wants her kid back. He walks into the inner sanctum to see this other druid threatening a kid. Then Nettie tries to KILL HIM and at that point it's like, okay, fuck druids.

Through some strategic planning, he wages war on the druids with only one loss of tiefling life.

He saves Halsin, who hears about the druids and is like, "Well, it sucks, but it sounds like they left you no other choice. Unfortunately I don't have a cure."

So he decides to check out the creche, and on the way runs into the "Paladins of Tyr" and hears more about this evil devil. He believes them, since he also heard the same from Wyll. He's not the type to stop and talk to his enemies, so he strategically takes out Karlach. RIP

In the creche, Lae'zel blows up the machine. The doctor acts real weird about it so before she leaves the room, Roche kills her. They go to report the traitor in the creche, but can't talk to the inquisitor because this lady wants the artifact. So Roche kills her.

Now, he doesn't trust the dream visitor. So he DOES hand over the artifact to the inquisitor and agrees to kill the person inside as an excuse to just go there and confront this person on his own terms. The Dream Visitor (who looks uncomfortably like Foltest which pisses Roche off more) makes the mistake of kneeling down and offering his sword in some manipulative tactic of "look, see, I'm harmless"

Roche calls the bluff and stabs him. Lo and behold, the visitor doesn't die because it was a trick. But everything he said about the githyanki waiting to kill them outside the artifact regardless of the outcome is true, and he's not happy about that but he admits that maybe this dream visitor is right about some things. Just not about using the tadpole power, fuck that.

They fight their way out.

On to Moonrise, then. They go through the underdark, where they run into the fungi colony, who immediately telepathically threaten him and he's like >:( I'm not afraid of you.

They attack. They get slaughtered.

They head towards a boat and get ambushed by duegar. He convinces them not to attack, but then is like "your missing slave is a you problem, I'm not getting involved," so the duegar attack and get slaughtered.

Roche steals the duegar's boat. They get ambushed by another boat. Roche is very done with this, and he sucks at lying anyway so he doesn't bother, he just shoves the other duegar into the water and kills the others.

Grymforge. Wyll is immediately like, "Hey, uh... Maybe we should try to be diplomatic about this."

I have never ONCE had a companion suggest that, and this is my fourth playthrough. Roche tries. It works. And then Wyll hears that they have slaves and is like, "Actually. Maybe violence IS the answer." To which Roche says it's none of their business and they're not getting involved in that shit.

They hear about Nere. They figure Nere knows a way to get past the shadow curse. They figure Nere won't be very cooperative about it, so Roche is like, whatever, we can get the info from his corpse.

He notices not all the duegar are on the same page about Nere. He agrees to side with the rebels in a coup against Nere. They free Nere, they kill Nere, they get the info about the drider and they get the spider lyre and because Roche is annoyed at the prospect of letting Wyll down, he convinces the duegar to leave the slaves behind.

They go to the shadow curse land. Sure is a shame none of them have instrument proficiency and thus can't play the lyre.

On to Last Light, where Mol jumps in just in time to keep Roche from attacking Jaheira because he really doesn't like being threatened. Otherwise the infiltration plan seems pretty solid, it's a go.

When they get the lantern, Roche is like, yeah, I'm not letting the damn pixie out, we need this. They go to Moonrise. They conduct a prison escape with the tieflings and gnomes, mostly because he figured Zevlor would be among them. It goes without a hitch thanks to strategic assassinations of the guards without alerting any of the other guards.

He plays along with Z'rell like... Bare minimum. Then they're off to find Balthazar.

Roche tunes out most of Shadowheart rants about Shar because really? Seriously? Whatever.

Raphael shows up. Roche doesn't like his smarmy attitude. He's not close enough with Astarion to know about the scars at this point so there's no real reason for him to agree to what Raphael says.

They find Balthazar. He plays along with Balthazar just long enough to get some information, and then they kill Balthazar.

They find Yuigir. They agree to help Yuigir just because it would piss off Raphael.

It doesn't. Roche hates him even more.

They proceed to the Shadowfell and meet the Aylin. Unfortunately, Roche's solution to most problems is "kill it" and figures, hey, if she's the source of Ketheric's immortality, killing her gets rid of the problem. Do whatever you what Shadowheart.

Ten minutes later they're fighting a camp of shadowcursed Harpers and tieflings and he's like, "GODDAMMIT SHADOWHEART."

They kill Ketheric. They free Zevlor and Mizora. Roche stops Gale from blowing himself up because what the fuck man, I am RIGHT HERE. STAND DOWN, THAT IS AN ORDER.

They kill Ketheric AGAIN. They kill the god of death. Roche is so fucking done with the shadowlands. Halsin doesn't get helped because Roche is not about to prioritize healing nature over his own personal mission to get this damn tadpole out of his head and take down this cult.

And that's pretty much where I'm at.

[kemendin]

Atmospheres

One of my favourite things in writing is setting the scene - the environment, the atmosphere, the vibes. And this becomes a fun little challenge I give myself when I’m trying to bring to life a canon setting in a game.

I look at screenshots and game footage, and I study the environment there - the colours and sounds and textures, the physicality of it, but also the mood. How it makes me feel when I look at it, and also how it makes the POV character feel, because those two reactions may be quite different. And then I figure out just the right words and cadence to really bring what I perceive to life in my writing.

For instance, I love the unsettling feeling of the Rakata vaults in SWTOR, and the whole vibe of Belsavis in particular, so I really tried to convey that in this fic:

Even in the depths of the cell blocks, Belsavis was never quiet. A low hum of energy was nearly constant as it carved its way through the ancient structures, and power gleamed in cold colours from the sockets set high in the walls. In the vast dimness of the corridors, the lights flickered like dying stars, and like eyes they seemed to follow the path of the intruders. Watchful. Waiting.

It was cold in the hollow passages beneath the snow. Some of the vaults were oddly temperate, warmed by the thermal energies of the planet where magma welled up through the crust. But here, Caspian’s breath shivered from him as he trotted along the sloping floor towards the surface. Scourge padded along behind him, an ever-present crimson shadow. Even though the angle of the floor put him below Cas, it did little to diminish the sense of his looming stature.

BG3 also has such rich, immersive environments, so even my so-far limited experience in describing them has been a blast. I’m very proud of my description of the Shadow-Cursed Lands from my first fic:

Here, though, it is different. The shadows that stifle this once-fertile landscape are thick, and coiling, and hungry. They do not merely lurk, waiting to consume the follies of the ill-fated; they are predators seeking prey, and they gnaw on the bones of the dead even as they stalk the steps of the living.

Dhamari can hear their hunger scraping around the edges of the campsite, where torches - plucked from rotting corpses on the roadside - now flutter and fight to keep the menacing fog at bay. The party has hunkered down for the night in as secure a space as they could find - a wide lip of stone sheltered by jutting crags on two sides and facing out into empty air on a third, exposed save for a few scraggly trees that still cling, quivering, to the precipice. More ash-grey branches hang overhead, twisting out from cracks in the uneven stone, their red leaves rattling in an erratic wind.

There is a foul tang on the air, the metal scent of dark magic wrapped around decades of decay. Even the fruits of Gale’s excellent cooking had borne the taste of it at dinner, but on the whole, the group had been too subdued by the atmosphere around them to offer much complaint. The meal was taken in taut silence, and then the weary adventurers had dispersed to their bedrolls, most drawing their tent flaps tight against the unsettling sounds emanating from beyond the boundaries of the campsite. Now, only Halsin keeps watch - minding the central fire, or else softly pacing the perimeter to check that the smaller wards of flame still burn.

I’m working on my next one now, which takes place in the Underdark/Grymforge. This is likely not the final version, but I’m already very pleased with the atmosphere I’m evoking:

The shoreline that greets them after their shrouded sail across the Ebonlake is not a welcoming one. There is torchlight to part the shadows, but it is harsh and brazen, and it glares in bronze reflections off broken stonework that climbs up and up into the cavernous darkness.

Long ago, this was perhaps a proud and impenetrable fortress. But now the structure is cracked and desecrated, seared by time and fire and caged by makeshift scaffolds that allow the duergar interlopers a means of clambering across the ruins. Yet shadows remain, uneven and treacherous, caught in the crevices formed by history’s slow forgetting of this place.

There is no beach to slide beneath their spiny craft, only a narrow wharf of straight-hewed stone jutting out into the unfathomable waters. Several other boats similar to their own are already moored there, looking unnaturally still until the silent ripples of the two new arrivals set the lake to lapping at their hulls.

So yeah! I find it’s important to establish the scenic backdrop of the story, because my brain is playing it like a movie in my head and I gotta know what it looks like and what the vibes are. (Can you tell I like describing eerie, abandoned places? xD)

[avionvadion]

Kai'mana has finally gotten some decent camp clothes! The drow clothing looks super good on her with her scales, honestly. Astarion got the armor, Kai'mana got the clothing, lol.

Mostly just screenshots of my Dark Urge Kai'mana being pretty, but there are ASTARION ROMANCE SPOILERS below.

This is my second playthrough (because I lack self-restraint) so there are mentions of things that are revealed in Act Two.

ASTARION, PLEASE. XD

BABY. FEATHER BABY.

PROTECC

SHE GETS TO CARRY HIM!???? I LOVE IT.

I guess Dragonborn do count as the "buff" body type...

I can't actually believe they had the Dragonborn smooch. With their snouts, I figured Dragonborn would kinda... nuzzle or bump noses??? Something really affectionate and cute. Anyways, that's my headcanon. Astarion can place kisses to her snout, but she'd nuzzle his hair or something.

I do wish there was a way to trigger the romance without having to sleep with him, though. Especially since he later clearly expresses in Act Two that he's sex-repulsed/demisexual.

It's so interesting romancing Astarion from the beginning again, because you can tell when he's being genuine and putting on an act. And it's so sad. I want to give him all the hugs.

SHE'S. SO. FREAKING. PRETTY. LOOK AT HER SCALES. GORGEOUS. I LOVE HER SO MUCH. AHHHHHHHHHHH. HAVE YOU SEEN A PRETTIER DRAGONBORN DRUID???

Just... another screenshot of Kai'mana being ridiculously gorgeous, don't mind me. Also, I like that Volo was nice enough to replace her eye with a matching pink one- even though it's not necessarily identical, since the sclera of the fake one is white whereas the iris of her real eye takes up the whole space.

Gods, you're really pretty too. Even though I know the truth. T_T

NEW ARMOR. DYED.

She looks so badass. :3

I thoroughly enjoy how different her scales look in the different lightings. Sometimes they're the usual, sometimes they look purple with blue accents, sometimes they're black with blue accents- it's so fun. Really adds to the mystique, me thinks, and the charm.

I love this silly man so much.

Imagining Kai'mana and Astra (my Tav) in the same playthrough is so fun. But also I feel like if they both existed Kai'mana would actually be paired with Gale, since I love Astra with Astarion too much. That said, Kai'mana would still have that little thing with Shadowheart in the beginning because of how much they just click and get along, before realizing they're better off as besties.

Astra is the brains, Kai'mana is the brawn- Astra knows better than to have people poking her eyeballs, Kai'mana is like, "Y'know what? Couldn't hurt to try" and can now see invisible, lol.

And Astra would make sure BARD BESTIE IS SAFE.

Anyways, this is Astra for those who don't know. :3

Yes, I'm obsessed with the color blue. T_T

Her full name is Astra Tav'aria Duskraalis! Tav'aria is the pseudonym she uses for her works, as she is a Sorcerer Bard, while Duskraalis is her Drow surname. Her mother was a Wood Elf, while her father was Seldarine Drow.

[imageingrunge]

If you’re willing pls some details on your bg3 character? They’re so gorgina. I love her. I wanna give her a lil daisy or smth and put it behind her ear. If possible. If not we’ll work something out. Your taste in screenshots is so good and I love seeing other ppls games. Especially when we have more than one in common.

What’s her class? Her name? Any subclasses 🤔

Any reason for The Gale romance, or is it one of those unexplained there is no reason types? Either way they’re cute.

Where does her expertise lie, any backstory you’ve thought of and decided on and willing to share?

What’s her favourite pass time, what’s her usual response to difficult situations be it emotionally or in a fight? Does she believe in a high power?

Much luv, if you decide to answer or not I appreciate your posts no matter the game popping up on my time line <3 just an interested individual passing thru swat me like a fly if necessary and carry on 🤞🏼 I’m glad it seems like ur having a good time, hope ur doing well !

First of all thank you SOO much for asking ❤️❤️❤️ I didn’t think anyone would be that interested <<333 this ask made my day

n ive been thinking over it a lot since getting into act 3, ((im not a dnd expert  sooo consider the follow some silly musings I have on her backstory/abilities 🙈)) 

Tldr is-

Dark Eyes is a Mephistopheles tiefling, she used to be a cleric but I changed her class later to an Archfey Warlock, she is an outlander and worships Kelemvor!!

She was born at sea! her parents were human & lived as merchants. They loved her despite her unexpected infernal heritage, they called her 'dark eyes' for her unusual appearance. She had a relatively happy childhood, she always felt at home in far off places. While sailing to the Sword Coast thier ship was capsized by a storm, her parents and the crew died but she survived, washed ashore near a temple dedicated to Kelemvor. From this point on, her life was marked by a quiet melancholy and deep religious fervor. Her near death experience exposed the capricious nature of fate.

she fully embraced the path of a Cleric of Kelemvor and traveled extensively over all of Faerun giving the last rites to the dying and aiding the departed, until the day she met a dying dryad in a forest, taking pity on her she guided its spirit to the realm beyond gaining the favor of the Faerie Queen Titania, ultimately sealing her fate as an Archfey Warlock.

Among the Fey she was reborn as 'Nemeth' a name given to her by her first lover a Leanan sidhe being. Under the guidance of these fey beings, she embraced life with reckless abandoned, danced among dryads in deep elder forests, and sung the songs of the rusalkas. She inspired poets and was the bane of mortal men, she learned to act in accordance to her own whims rather than being a martyr  - to me she is always very fickle and easy to displease, I've had her hex people for saying rude things to her (looking at u lord whitburn) on the surface she is seems distant but she still has a soft heart, where others fight she likes to wait things out, let others expose themselves, charm and decieve (in a way her and Raphael would get a long very well if they weren't enemies in game hehe)

On the gale romance- well, that was a complete accident what can I say his dorkish nature is bewitching!!

they definitely play off each other well!! If it weren't for Gale she really wouldn't be trying so hard to save others. Being a warlock, she knows better than most that, to give into raw power is to become infinetly more vulnerable to the greater beings that wield it- She wants Gale to understand this!! Despite being a warlock, she still gives patronage to Kelemvor, it’s a big reason why she does not like Mystra's influence over Gale - to her Kelemvor is impartial, fair - he doesn't keep his devotees on a leash and does not interfere in mortal affairs, he is the washing away of these things, the cleansing of all desire. She wants Gale to see that his life is his own- only if he lets go! Anyways in my head she and Gale adopted the tiefling Arabella and sent her away to wizard school or whatever the equilvalent is

[astarionfreak]

Exile (Or: How you learned to stay) | Ch. 8 - Shadowheart: Hanging

// Ascended Astarion x Reader (Fem!Durge) + Shadowheart x Reader (Fem!Durge)

Shadowheart returns to Astarion's palace with Gale and Minthara. Things go about as well as you'd expect.

18+ • NSFW • 3.7K words (8/?) | Read on AO3 (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat - Check tags for warnings)

You steel your nerves as you approach Astarion’s palace. A potion bottle is pressed tight to your chest. You keep it against your skin so you can feel it, so you know you have it. It’s the critical first half of a plan that could give her an advantage.

The potion has to work. You can’t fail her. You won’t fail. If you don’t get this right, all is lost.

You glance over at Gale. He’s facing forward, not looking at you. What is going through his mind? He’s been quiet since you started your journey here.

The sun shines brightly in the sky, a striking contrast to the first time you came. Back then, it was so dark. There was only a sliver of the moon in the sky to light your path. Perhaps that was a warning.

You were on a mission to rescue Astarion then. Now, you’re fighting to undo the mistakes of that night.

The spawn come in the dead of night. You were sleeping. You wake to a fight. You fail. They take him.

They take Astarion.

She gathers her things, holding back angry tears as she pulls on her gear. Blood drips down into her eye from a deep gash on her forehead. “They took him. They took him and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t stop them. I failed — I failed him,” she says.

“It’s not your fault,” you whisper. “We were all here. This does not rest on your shoulders alone.”

The rage on her face is unmistakable, there’s a tremble in her voice when she tells you to get dressed. Her breath comes in rapid-fire bursts. She’s not thinking clearly.

“Just breathe, love. We’ll get him,” you say, trying to find your conviction. You reach for her, but she pulls away. Your heart sinks. She won’t let you touch her. She won’t let you comfort her.

You begin to whisper a healing spell.

“Save your magic. We’ll need it,” her voice is flat and distant.

She won’t let you heal her.

“Let me do this, please,” you say.

“No.” She sheaths her daggers and slings a light crossbow over her back. “I’m not worth it.”

“A potion, then. I am not foolish enough to set foot in a vampire den with someone who is actively bleeding,” you say.

She grunts something that you accept as a begrudging ‘okay, fine.’ You reach into your pack and find a small healing potion. You take her wrist and press the bottle into her hand. For a moment, it’s as though she comes back to you.

Her eyes soften. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Shadowheart. He wasn’t ever supposed to go back to that place.”

“I know,” you say. “He’s going to be okay.”

“We were going to handle this without him.” She curls her fingers around the potion bottle but doesn’t pull her hand away from yours.

Your thumb moves in small circles around her wrist. An attempt to comfort her. “I know.”

She stares at you with wide eyes, her chest heaving with each breath. Her lips are softly parted.

You wish to pull her into your arms, to comfort her in the only way you know how. But she is not yours to hold. Not anymore. When all this is over, Cazador, the cult, the brain — maybe you can win her back.

“He’s going to want to ascend,” she whispers. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stop him.”

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Bonus oneshot: Palisade afternoon

[serenstars]

bg3 posting

am i gonna reblog anything here? idk maybe. mostly this is for posting thoughts and screenshots of my characters tho :p

list of my tavs n durges under the cut

Aeron, she/her mephistopheles tiefling rogue (thief) bard (subclass not unlocked yet) urchin chaotic neutral romancing Astarion tragically separated from her large family as a small child, swept away by the bustling crowds of the marketplace; she has since scraped together a living in whatever way she could. taking on odd jobs from anyone who would hire her eventually led to shadier and shadier business, until she found herself smuggling drugs and stolen goods and trading her body in exchange for shelter, information, and cash when she needed to.

Vesper, he/him seldarine drow druid (circle of spores) bard (college of swords) durge chaotic good romancing Gale (multiplayer with @talfrynn's Zevan) struggling to piece together his past, Vesper has no idea where he's come from, how he got here, or who he even really is; what he does know is that the dark thoughts and desires that plague him (and uncontrollable violent actions that seem to come from them on occasion) are not- CANNOT be a part of who he is.

"Ceri", she/him mephistopheles tiefling sorcerer (draconic bloodline - blue) charlatan neutral evil (multiplayer with @sorcedin's Shishko) bearing a striking resemblance to a famous musician known as Ceri, this conwoman has spent her adult life using that resemblance to her advantage. by fooling people into thinking she IS the real Ceri (simply out of her typical silvery stage makeup), she's found herself capable of scamming folks into buying overpriced forgeries of autographs, or simply giving her almost anything she asks for. encouraged by a circle of criminals she's unfortunately fallen in with, she's kept the lie up so long that she's not sure whether or not the real her is still in there somewhere.

Fluttershy, she/her asmodeus tiefling druid (circle of the moon) outlander true neutral romancing Wyll (would be in a polycule with Karlach and Astarion if there was a functional way to do this in the game) still working on it give me a bit ok. she turns into bear

Hyacinth, they/them mephistopheles tiefling warlock (archfey) durge lawful evil probably gonna restart this file...was originally Very Awful but i think i'm gonna dial it back to just being pretty rude and being driven by curiosity and a desire for information and entertainment. sometimes they do bad things, sometimes they do good things; it's entirely dependent on what they think will have the most fun results, or give them the most information.

Mag, she/her lightfoot halfling paladin (oath of the ancients) soldier iirc? neutral good romancing Karlach Mag has lived her entire life by the sea, and even when she's apart from it she conducts herself by its rules. raised by and around all manner of seafaring folk, she's brash and rowdy with the manners of a sailor; but if you look past that you can see her heart of gold and noble dedication to fairness and kindness.

Calliope, she/it copper dragonborn bard (college of valour) durge chaotic neutral romancing Astarion rather than being disgusted, entertained, or curious about her urge, Calliope is simply clueless. she's lost her memories, which also removes all social context as to what is and isn't normal for a person to want, or do. she looks to others to try to rebuild that context and get a grasp on whether these thoughts and urges are strange, or simply something that is part of being alive.

[davenswitcher]

So this idea has been dancing around in my head all morning now:

Song recommendation:

Possibly or most certainly OOC. I try to keep Tav GN here but is female coded.

My Tav is a woodelf druid. She has red-ish brown hair with some gray to give it more depth. The hair is shoulder length. Her eyes have a green eye shadow and some birds tattooed on her face. Her look is fierce with a hint of arrogance (she's an elf duh). I didn't take many screenshots of my Tav so here's an old one.

Tav and Astarion are just friends and are in the middle of the shadow cursed lands. The night of seduction and desire hasn't happened. One evening in their camp most of them are gathered around the fire eating dinner and conversing. Tav sits next to Astarion of course her back leaning on his shoulder and his left arm wrapped around their middle to give them stability (surely no other intention). Suddenly, Lae'zel speaks up seeing you both: "can you both just fuck already? The tension around you both is nauseating. "

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

Just Friends...?

It had been a long day. Fighting shadow creatures, finding Arabella and her dead parents and giving this so called doctor a taste of his own medicine by making his staff kill him.

Tav thought this whole adventure couldn't get any worse on her psyche but this gloomy atmosphere isn't really helping and telling a literal kid that it's an orphan now was the final blow for today.

Karlach is the one to set up the camp fire today while Gale and Wyll prepare dinner. Wyll volunteered to help Gale so they don't have to survive on JUST stew. It's easier, sure, but there are better ways to nourish a camp. Lae'zel is sharpening her weapons while keeping an eye on Shadowheart. Astarion is sat at his tent reading some kind of Sherlock Holmes story. Tav never thought he'd be the kind of person to enjoy such a story but now's not the time to nerd out with their bestie.

After telling Arabella about the fate of her parents, Tav trudges to their tent. Tired and disheartened they meditate to regain some strength and composure before dinner. To their surprise it's not working and the tears just won't stop flowing. Tav expertly stifles a sob and tries to calm themself by breathing in and out deeply. With every shaky breath Tav breathes they calm down.

Gale: "So, dinner is finally ready!" He exclaimed loudly, so the entire camp hears and nobody can complain if they're too late.

The merry band of weirdos gathers around the fireplace. Four logs are placed around the fireplace. Lae'zel and Shadowheart sit opposite Tav and Astarion. Karlach sits with Wyll and owlbear. Scratch is playing with a huge stick he found. Gale and Halsin sit on the remaining log.

Tav sits with their back against Astarions left shoulder and he has his arm wrapped around their middle. Everybody is conversing with one another. Meanwhile Tav is absent-mindly trailing their fingers along Astarions arm. It's more soothing to them than to him as he either doesn't care or is too wrapped up in the discussion with Gale and trying to convince Gale he's wrong.

Suddenly, Lae'zel speaks up seeing Tav being all cozy: "Can you two just fuck already? The tension around you both is nauseating. " The others look at Tav and Astarion amused, finally something else happening that isn't near death experiences. Confused Tav replies: " We? Fuck? We're just friends." They laugh nervously. "Just because we're friends doesn't mean we can't be nice to each other." Lae'zel is silent. Shadowheart raises an eyebrow and adds: "Really? The way you're so cuddled against him says otherwise."

Tav looks to Astarion. He's noticeably annoyed and has to hold back a laugh.

Astarion: "Well, same goes for you two too then. Or are you already sharing blissful nights in each others arms this whole time? I'm shocked (no, he's not Tav thought. Quite the opposite. He's amused) and nobody thought about sharing the news. Pity."

The next day is compared to the day before very quiet and not much of an adventure. The adventurers are just exploring Reithwin Town and enter a pub. Tav sat down at the bar trying not to drink whatever liquid this grotesque proprietor poured into the mug while sharing stories of the adventures they had. Tav seemed less melancholic today but it seems something else is eating away their attention.

After this encounter the adventurers head back to camp exhausted. The shadow curse is getting to them all it seems.

Astarion was in his tent reading as usual as suddenly Tav enters without asking.

"Haven't your parents taught you it's impolite to enter someone else's space without asking? What if I was laying here naked jerking off?" Astarion says with a hint of mischief and annoyance.

Tav: "Sorry, I need to talk to you about yesterday a-and in general." Astarion senses Tavs nervousness and softens. Tav sits down cross legged in front of him.

"Do you think Lae'zel is right? About us? I mean- You know- I thought- ugh.. I don't know."

Astarion never thought he'd ever see the leader and his best friend at such a loss of words. "Do *you* think she's right?" He responds. "I mean you haven't fancied anybody else yet, have you? Have you seen how the wizard looks at you? Or the famous blade of frontiers. He'd love to sheath his *sword* into you. Or would you rather-" He looks at Tav with his famous seductive look and notices them blushing heavily. "Oh, my my. I think you just answered your question subconsciously." His voice. Smooth, sultry and Gods was he always so handsome?

At his remark Tav looks away shyly. Astarion sits down closer to Tav, careful not to push them to much and takes a hand in his rubbing a thumb against their knuckles in an attempt to sooth them.

Tav looks up into his eyes and feels her heartbeat quicken and breaths nervously. They stare into each others eyes what feels like hours until he moves up to her slowly, starting to kiss them. Tav let's out a small, shivered moan.

The kiss starts slow, tender. Occasionally, touching their tongues and biting their lips softly. In an attempt to deepen the kiss, Astarion lifts Tav into his lap. Tav cradles his hips with their legs. They continue to kiss heavier and fervently only their moans fill the silence around them.

After what feels like hours they break the kiss. Tav says breathlessly: "So, I guess we're not just friends."

This one-shot really blew out of proportion 😅 From Tav and Astarion confront their feelings to my Tav is in dire need of affection. My idea started out not this melancholic and having Lae'zel just bluntly confront the frie- ahem lovebirds. So since I'm a sucker for world building and such I tried to keep it short and get straight into the feels at some point, so apologies for the lack of conversations in this. It's my first real drabble in this and needed to get it out of my system 😅

[flowersdaggersviolasandblood]

Flower Girl

Name: Pero Ophiin (She/Her)

Race: Wood Half-Elf

Class: Druid (Circle of the Land)

Background: Outlander

WARNING SPOILERS AHEAD!

It's side quest time bby! Because I'm too under leveled to handle the Paladins of Tyr for now, so that's the goal atm. So, let's go back to figuring out Kagha's secret.

So Pero and her ragtag gang went into the swamps and discovered Auntie Ethel being harassed by two men. Not knowing the full context of the situation and Pero only knowing the disguised Hag as a kindly old lady, she came to her defense. I switched on non-lethal for this, but one of them accidentally died because he got ensnared and took damage (oops).

As they were exploring the swamps, Pero was able to deduce that there was an illusionary veil that concealed the true visage of the swamps. It was here that they saw that the sheeps were actually Redcaps (didn't get a screenshot, sorry ;A;). She also met the monster hunter, Gandrel, and because Astarion is not in my party (and because Pero is a kind person who wouldn't harm him senselessly) my man got to walk away. Pero tried to get information on who it was he was hunting, but Gandrel opt to not tell her.

We'll get back to Auntie Ethel later, for now, Pero and the gang went to find the secret letter that called Kagha out on her bullshit. Returning back to Emerald Grove, unlike Torment, who used this evidence as a reason to kill Kagha, Pero instead tried to convince Kagha to see the error of her ways.

After dealing with the Shadow Druids, with the full help of Emerald Grove, Pero was deemed a Faithwarden, a Druid with enough high status to be listened to throughout all circles (so there's a possibility we might meet more Druidic NPCs or settlements :D). So now Pero is decked out with some new weapon drip!

Now that the grove is safe for the Tieflings to reside in, Pero will soon focus her attention on taking out the Goblin camp. But until then, I still wanted to handle the Paladin's before continue on, so more level grinding! Before we continue, some cute companion stuff. Starting with Gale, he taught Pero how to unlock the Weave and they both shared an intimate moment. I still intend to romance Halsin, but goddamn is it hard to do so when 2 easy options are right in front of you XD

As for Wyll, we got a special little dialogue moment between him and Zevlor upon discovering his new form. While at camp, Wyll asked Pero what was it he saw when she looked at him. In which Pero told him she still see the good ol' Wyll who is trying to do what is right.

Pero eventually told Astarion about Gandrel and learned further about Astarion's past and his relationship with Cazador. A little cute rp thing I think is cute is that Pero has taken up the role of "Rogue" in terms of lockpicking and disarming traps (her stealth & sleight of hand is a +4 and +2 respectfully), so I like to think that she learned how to do so (aside from the aid of magic and inspiration of course lol) from Astarion & Shadowheart. Speaking of Shadowheart, when I decided to ask her how Pero was holding up, she said this cute little dialogue. Being nice pays off :D

With that over with, back to the level grind. I decided to trigger the combat with the gnolls, and because Pero failed the Arcana check to identify them, she attempted to comfort the dying Hyena, only to discover something sinister. Because of this, we got surprised and I ended up fighting more Gnolls than intends. Successfully took them on tho.

Despite fighting more enemies than usual, didn't hit that 3rd level mark yet. So let's go to Waukeen's Rest and help them out!