#my Tav: Cora

[alwachart]

How to sleep with your cambion

I had other sketches planned but I ended up doing something new for the Raphael romance event

@dmagedgoods thank you for creating it! I wouldn't have pushed myself to paint without it lol

[slusheeduck]

Side-tracked

“We’ll be back in just a bit,” Falerin assured from the doorway as Astarion stood outside in the hallway, pouting up a storm. “Then we can figure out how to get ahead of that Bhaalist.”

“Don’t have too much fun, lovebirds!” Karlach called back as Falerin closed the door. He leaned against it for a moment, letting out a breath, then looked over at Astarion. The vampire was glaring daggers at him; it’d probably be more literal if they weren’t together.

“I can’t believe you,” he hissed. “It’s one thing to get tied up in a murder investigation—don’t think I haven’t seen the mysteries you’ve tucked away—but offering to do the Fists’ gruntwork? Gods, it’s like I don’t even know you. I’ve half a mind to…”

“Shh.” Falerin quickly grabbed Astarion’s arms, leaning in until he was nose-to-nose with him. “Listen. I’m having the others stay here because I have a plan, and you’re the only one who can do it with me.”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

Falerin dug in his pocket, then pulled out the list of names. “If we want to get into the Temple of Bhaal without fuss, we need to impress the Tribunal. And we need proof. So…” Falerin swallowed. “We’re going to take out two people on this list.”

Astarion’s eyes widened, and a smile spread across his face before he fanned himself. “Oh, my love, are you saying you’d kill for me?”

Falerin made a face. “In a sense? Look, I’m not…I don’t like the idea of murdering innocents. So if we can…can vet them?”

Astarion took the list, looking almost gleeful. “It’s Baldur’s Gate, darling. I guarantee everyone on this list is either an insufferable bastard everyone wishes was dead, or someone who’s so pathetic and at the end of their rope they’ll want to be put out of their misery. We’re doing a service, Fal.” He read it over. “Ah, I know this house—the Highberrys, right next door. Well-to-do, probably awful. We’ll slip in and make it quick.”

~

The house was indeed right next door, and there seemed to be a big to-do out in the courtyard of it. It gave the two of them an excellent opportunity to slip around to the back entrance. Astarion led the way, hopping easily over the gate and already pulling out his lockpick. Falerin shifted back and forth, glancing around nervously. He turned, worried, as Astarion scoffed around the spare pick in his mouth.

“It’s not even locked,” he whispered over his shoulder. “People this careless deserve what’s coming for them.” He stood up, waiting for Falerin to hop the fence to join him, then he took a hold of his arms. “Darling, look at me.” After a moment, Falerin did. “I’ll take the lead here. It’ll be quick and…mostly painless. Remember, it’s for the greater good. And don’t forget to cover your face on the way out.”

Falerin took a deep breath and nodded. For the greater good. And clearly the Highberrys were rich, so…so they were probably bad. Probably.

He kept close to Astarion as the vampire opened the door, slow and silent. They slipped in, quiet as the grave, only to suddenly be face-to-face with a child. They stared at him. The child stared back. Falerin just barely caught sight of Astarion’s arm start to move, and he gripped his elbow hard.

“Ow! Bastard,” he hissed back through his teeth.

“You’re not about to…” Falerin raised his eyebrows. “…a child, are you?”

“Obviously not, you complete lunatic. I was just…”

“Timmy? Where’ve you gone?” Another child’s voice rang out, with footsteps thumping down the stairs. A little girl joined the staring.

“Well…shit,” Astarion muttered.

“Oh! Are you here for the wine thingy?” the girl asked, suddenly brightening. “Cora said some people might come round this way. You’ve just got to go to the front door.”

Suddenly, Astarion turned on his charm. “Oh, yes.” He twisted around to slide an arm through Falerin’s. “Darling, I told you it was where all those people were. Silly thing you are, thinking it’d be inside on such a lovely day.”

Falerin blinked stupidly. “Oh…right.”

The boy, Timmy, wiped his nose on his sleeve. “What were you whispering about earlier?”

Falerin glanced down at him. “Oh, I, uh…I was just telling my…my husband that I was sure we were going the right way.” He sounded nowhere near as nonchalant as Astarion; luckily, you didn’t have to be very convincing to children.

Astarion, meanwhile, glanced over curiously at “husband”, but he patted Falerin’s arm with a trilling laugh. “As if I didn’t know how Cora worked! Honestly.” He looked between the two children. “I…don’t recall you two being around before?”

“We’re orphans,” Timmy said. “Well, Molly says her dad’s comin’ back. Mum’s not, though.”

Falerin’s eyes went wide, and his head jerked over to look at Astarion. Orphans? he mouthed, face caught somewhere between distraught and disbelieving.

“Cora’s taking care of us,” Molly said, swinging against the railing idly. “She takes in all the kids who don’t have a place to go. She’s really nice.”

“She gives really good hugs,” Timmy added. “And she makes a really good pot roast.”

“Oh, she gives really good hugs, does she?” Falerin repeated through his teeth, voice tight, still staring at Astarion incredulously.

Astarion pressed his lips together tightly, then gave another laugh. “Of course she does,” he said with a toss of his head. “I could have told you that, my love. Come along, let’s go join the others.”

“Why do old people like wine, anyway?” Timmy said to Molly as they made their way to the front door.

“Dunno. But they’re going to be getting so much money for those refugee tieflings. Maybe some of the kids round town will join us!”

Once they were by the front door, Falerin stopped and shook his head. “I can’t do it, Astarion. I can’t fucking do it. They’re…she takes care of orphans. Orphans!” he whispered sharply.

“Maybe…maybe they’re being fattened up for ritualistic sacrifice?” Astarion suggested with a shrug. At Falerin’s look, he sighed. “Okay, okay! Fine! We won’t kill her.” He puffed at a curl as he opened the door. “Look, even I draw the line at orphans and widows. Now, anyway. But I expect a glass of wine for my trouble. Who’s next on the…oh, hello. Recognize that armor?”

He pointed over the head of a few wine tasters, where two halflings were chatting with a dwarf in red armor. Very red armor.

“Oh shit!” Falerin quickly shoved his way past a few partygoers. “Move, move!” Never mind the fact that they’d come in with every intent to murder Cora; he wasn’t about to let Dolor get another one on his watch.

~

The interruption went about as well as expected: changelings all over the damn place, a proper mess of a fight, and Dolor slipping away. But they came out on the other side all right, and Falerin peeked inside the house to make sure that Cora (and the orphans) had made it out alive. The halfling woman shook her head as he and Astarion approached.

“I can’t believe what that…that man was planning to do to me,” she whispered, then looked up at them. “Thank you for saving me.”

From the doorway, her husband came over. “It’s not much, but it’s the least we can do to thank you for what you’ve done.” He held out an almost comically large bag of gold, passing it off to Astarion. The vampire’s eyes were wide, and for once, he looked lost for words.

“It’s…it’s not a problem,” Falerin said, giving a little smile to them. “We’re just glad we were here in time.” He set his hand on Astarion’s back, guiding him out. “Stay in tonight! We’ll get things sorted soon enough!”

As they walked out of the courtyard, Astarion’s tongue finally unfroze. “This must be close to a thousand gold,” he whispered.

“We’ve gotten gold for helping people before.”

“We’ve gotten pittances. Is this what all rich people offer when you save their lives?” He nodded at Falerin. “Who’s next on the list?”

Fal pulled out the paper, looking it over. “Ah…Figaro Pennygood.”

“Oh, well, our red dwarf can’t kill him; he’s the best tailor in the city.” Astarion’s brows drew together. “Let’s go get the others and make our way there. I know a shortcut; we should be able to get to him in time.”

Fal gave a little smile. “Astarion, are you saying you’re giving up your life of crime to help people?”

“Gods, no. But if this…” He held up the bag of gold. “…is what philanthropists are willing to give us for saving their lives, with someone as famous and rich as the Facemaker? Darling, you and I could be looking at a free wardrobe for life.” He grinned, knocking his knuckles against Falerin’s chest before he headed back to the Elfsong. “Maybe he’ll even do our wedding, husband mine.”

Falerin snorted as he followed. “You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Not for a moment.”

Bonus Chapter

Casual Banter Master Post

[roguishcat]

What happens at Sharess', stays at Sharess'

Excerpt: “Cora, sweetheart,” Astarion leaned closer to her, brushing a strand of inky black hair behind her ear, delighting in the fact that she leaned into his touch. “Can you tell me what you did last night to that nice drow man to have him in hysterics, hm?”

Pairing: Astarion x my OC, Astarion x female Tav

Word count: 3.2k

Tags: Fluff, Act III, Spoilers for Act III, named female Tav, OC

Set in Act III

A/N: I feel a bit nervous about posting this, and hope you like Cora, she is so cunning and chaotic, quite different from how I usually portray Tav in my other stories. Enjoy! ❤️

Art by @floadwarf1

Astarion prided himself on being able to read people. But then along came Cora. The seemingly dimwitted and charming high-born half-elf who was a magnet for trouble.

Yet, once you got to know her more, you realised that it was all a front and Cora was, in fact, so much more than just a conceited rich girl. Just like the rest of them, Cora kept her secrets close to her chest initially, but ended up confessing everything, overwhelmed by guilt, feeling that she was letting her friends down by not being entirely honest. Seeing as all of them were either keeping secrets or straight up lying to each other from the word go, the revelation was received well enough. And it was after Cora finally told them the truth about her shadowcaster heritage and dysfunctional, borderline psychotic patriar family that Astarion really saw her in a new light.

She was intelligent and ruthlessly vicious when dealing with enemies, making them end themselves by using their madness to quicken their demise. Her sharp tongue and the way she twisted words were rather useful when they were directed at someone else. He was especially impressed by the way she handled Yurgir. Large doe eyes and deceptively frail frame aside, Cora could be trusted to be cruel when the situation called for it.

Yet, Cora was fiercely loyal and protective to the group, to the point that it was near suicidal, which drove Astarion up the wall.

When Astarion first decided to sleep with her to get their unanimously appointed leader under his thumb, he did not realise that he bit off more than he could chew, figuratively speaking. Initially, Cora did not reveal her ancestry, she was ashamed of its corruptive power. But as they progressed on their journey, she managed to harness the shadows without succumbing to the corruption.

A tenday ago, as their band of misfits finally made it to the city, Cora grew quiet and withdrawn, quite a contrast to her usual chatterbox ways. Astarion guessed that it had everything to do with being reunited with her family, an unavoidable, worrying inevitability that frightened her to the point of making Cora distracted and even careless. Granted, she wasn’t the only one with an unpleasant family reunion, but it made her worries no less valid. But after Gortash’s coronation and Wyll’s subsequent decision to be free of Mizora at the cost of his father’s freedom, Astarion saw a familiar stubborn look in her eyes as she fell into her problem-solving mode.

She had a plan.

Cora squared her shoulders and thrust her chin up stubbornly, bulldozing her way through the city, swindling the innkeeper into giving them rooms at the Elfsong for free, fighting tooth and nail to make sure that they obtained all the information that could aid them on their personal quests. They defeated Cazador, which, surprisingly, was far less troublesome than he thought it would be, although it didn’t make it any less traumatic, were confronted by the Sharrans, and ambushed by Orin. Cora dealt with each crisis to the best of her ability. But it was not enough.

It felt as if for every step they took forward, they were thrust back two paces. They needed information and they needed it now.

When the sky dusked, Astarion saw Cora getting dressed with a glint in her eyes that he knew meant that she had come to a decision.

“Cora? Dearest? Where are you headed this fine evening?”

“Sharess’.”

He raised an eyebrow at that.

“Would you like me to come with you?” he asked tentatively. Being all but abandoned by her family to grow up at Sharess’ meant that if circumstances were different, Cora would avoid the place like the Bubonic plague. Several days back they helped the Mamzell find out who was behind the murder of one of the prostitutes. A favor which she wanted to repay by offering a free ride. Cora refused politely yet firmly.

“No need. Though I would appreciate it if you came to get me tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Are you planning to,” he swallowed around a lump in his throat, “stay the night?”

“Yes,” she said simply, grabbing her brocade bag and making sure she had everything she needed.

“I see,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. As if she told him what the weather was going to be like rather than telling him that he would have to sleep alone that night.

“Oh Star, it’s not like that!” Cora wound her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss under his jaw. “I’ve got an idea, but it might not work. So, not telling for now, okay? But I promise, I’m not going to lay a finger on anyone there. And no one sure as hells is touching me,” she said almost ominously.

Then her expression changed, she smooched his cheek and with that, she was gone.

Astarion followed her, of course. Because, as he kept telling himself, she was going to get mugged twice before she even made it to the brothel. Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration. He knew that she was powerful and very dangerous, but he couldn’t help but still think of her as the inept girl that she was when they first crashed on the beach. Now she was mistress of the shadows, one of the creatures that went bump in the night.

And of course she made it completely fine, walking into Sharess’ with confidence and levelling Mamzell with a hard look that that came from years of ordering people about. Astarion turned himself invisible and snuck after her, noting that Cora almost immediately ducked through the curtain and made a beeline for the drow twins.

Astarion scowled as it all clicked in his mind. So, this was it then. She just didn’t want him to be upset that she went back to taste whatever was on offer. It was understandable, really. With how much there was at stake, with all her responsibilities, it was no surprise that Cora needed to let herself forget, if only for a moment. Lose herself in someone willing, someone capable.

With the music being loud and the patrons getting rowdier and handsier as they got drunker, he could not hear exactly what she said to the twins. After a brief exchange, the brother, Sorn, if Astarion remembered correctly, motioned for Cora to follow him.

Astarion did not want to see anymore. He knew that technically he insisted that Cora indulge with the drow when they were here last time. Astarion was nowhere near ready to resume the sexual part of their relationship, but he still felt… he was not sure how he felt.

As they walked up the stairs, Astarion caught some of their conversation.

“Don’t you worry, I pride myself on delivering absolute satisfaction to every guest.”

“Let’s hope that you live up to your reputation. I am very particular when it comes to what gets me… excited.”

“Is that so? Well, whatever the fantasy, we always guarantee discretion. No one will ever find out.”

“I would like to think that. It would be shame if your establishment-.”

As they rounded the corner, Astarion could not catch the rest of what Cora was saying. He was sure that if his heart could beat it would be hammering loudly. He heard enough to make his insecurity rear its ugly head.

Of course he was not enough. How could he ever be? And Cora, the sweet, kind creature that she was when it came to him, did not want him to know of his inadequacy. The one thing that he was ever good for. And even that he could not provide. She did not take Halsin up on his offer, perhaps because she did not want him to witness whatever they would get up to. So, she had to take care of her needs in a different way.

Woodenly, Astarion made it to the bar and ordered wine. Might as well wait for her here. He didn’t want to go back to Elfsong and answer questions about Cora’s whereabouts. And it didn’t really matter if he drove himself mad thinking about what the drow was doing to her here at the bar or back in Elfsong.

As hours ticked by, he was approached several times by the men and women who worked there until they finally got the hint and left him be. Gods, he wished that he could get drunk. But apparently, he was not even allowed such small mercies. He rubbed his hand across his face. Picking up his glass, Astarion decided to relocate to a corner table near the window, to be left alone with his thoughts.

When morning finally came and the first slither of light warmed his cheek, Astarion heard a door slam open and shut somewhere. Someone, possibly one of the workers, ran past him and darted up the stairs with impressive speed. Then another and another. Just what in the hells was going on there?

The answer to his question came in a form of sniffling drow who was half-pulled, half-coaxed down the stairs by two servants, his bewildered and confused sibling waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

“Sister! My head, my eyes, my hand, oh it hurts!” he wailed quite pathetically, making Astarion’s ears perk up in curiosity, “I have never been subjected to something like this in my life!”

“Brother? Are you well? Shall I call for a healer?”

“No, I don’t need a healer. What I need is rest!” he threw his arms up and pushed past her, confusing whatever guests were still milling about with his theatrics. “Do not expect me to entertain for at least a tenday! In the very least, I earned this respite!”

Now that was interesting. Astarion was curious to know what exactly was it that Cora had the drow do. Because surely… surely it could not be that bad and depraved, right? Had she been going easy on him all this time? He swallowed, not sure if he was concerned or impressed.

As he snuck past the workers and walked into the drow’s room, Astarion watched Cora stuff her face with the delicate little breakfast pastries, finely cut meat and whatever else was on the table. Quite a spread for a simple breakfast. But then again, she was quite the guest, apparently. And here at Sharess’ they knew how to cater to every whim.

“Astarion! You’re here already? Didn’t expect you to be so early,” she smiled from across the room, waving him over.

A quick glance told him that whatever happened last night did not involve the bed, as it was clearly untouched. He felt his shoulders relax a little as he got a better look at Cora. She looked tired out. But Astarion knew what a well-fucked Cora looked like, and this was not it. Which begged the question, what exactly did she get up to?

“Cora, sweetheart,” Astarion leaned closer to her, brushing a strand of inky black hair behind her ear, delighting in the fact that she leaned into his touch. “Can you tell me what you did last night to that nice drow man to have him in hysterics, hm?”

She blinked and swallowed her food, feigning ignorance. “But my love, I have no idea! I kept my promise to you, I didn’t even touch him! Well, once. But that was more of a slap than a touch, so nothing down south.”

“He seems to be of the opinion that after one night with you, he will have to take a tenday off work. ‘To heal physically and emotionally’ if I were to quote him.”

Cora snorted in amusement. It was quite perplexing how she could be a fine, noble-born lady one moment, a little rascal the next, and also a murder-happy villain when the situation called for it. Naturally, Astarion rather liked all of the above.

“Well, my Star,” she purred, pulling his face closer to her own, lips close to the shell of his ear as she whispered softly, only for him to hear, “it seems that only your magic touch is enough when it comes to me.”

Then she gave him a peck just below his ear, grabbed her bag and grinned mischievously.

“Let’s head back to Elfsong. I’ve got something in this bag that will make you very, very happy.”

Astarion felt a tingle run down his spine and swallowed nervously.

An hour later, they were back in their room. The separate room that Gale insisted they should take. Astarion did not know what in the world the wizard’s problem was. He was practically a saint with how well-behaved he’s been lately!

“So… spill dearest. What have you been up to?”.                         

“Help me with this dress,” she smiled over her shoulder.

She was stalling. He could see that suddenly she felt nervous, her fingers fiddling with the strap of her bag.

“I wonder however you managed to put it on yourself without any help,” he clicked his tongue, trailing gentle fingers up her sides until they rested on her shoulders.

“I didn’t say I couldn’t do it. But I’d rather you were the one to do it.”

He smirked and pressed a kiss to her neck, spinning her around to face him.

“And no funny business Ancunín,��� she swatted at his hand when he tried to cop a feel. “Not until I show you what I got.”

“Yes, dearest. I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

“You are not a gentleman. That’s part of your appeal. But you are perfect, my love.”

Astarion felt a lump in throat at how earnest she looked when she said that. Trust Cora to be the one person to look at him, a vampire who had been a slave for 200 and did unspeakable things, some of which she witnessed firsthand, and still call him perfect and mean it. Her fingers felt so warm against his skin as she cradled his cheek. He wanted to lean into her touch, kiss the underside of her wrist and draw her in, pulling her close and swallowing her gasp as he desperately ravaged her.

But his twice-cursed mind would not let him succumb to his own desires, or at least not let him enjoy it. And he wanted to. By gods he wanted to. Cora deserved to have the entirety of his attentions, for her lover to be present, to be there in the moment.

And that was why, with a crooked smile and a chaste peck, Astarion quickly helped her out of her dress and withdrew. Cora was a saint for pretending that she did not notice his inner turmoil.

“Lady Coraline Ravenshade, you will tell me what you got for your efforts this minute or so help me I’m leaving,” he crossed his arms and tapped his foot in a mock display of impatience.

“Fine,” Cora changed into her sleepwear and opened her bag, rummaging around and pulling out papers and parchments.

“We needed information and I thought, when does one let their guard down? When do we reveal our secrets? Whisper them into others’ ears, hushed tones, candlelight soft and intimate?”

“Are you talking about pillow talk?” Astarion said slowly, not quite sure where she was going with this.

“And then I thought, where do the richest and most influential Baldurians go?”

“Sharess’.” Astarion’s eyes widened as it all clicked.

“And of course they would choose to spend an evening with the best that coin could buy,” she nodded, spreading the papers on their shared bed with a triumphant look in her eyes.

“But why Sorn? Why not the sister?”

“Well, that was a bit of a gamble,” she admitted with a shrug. “But I figured sweet and soft would not cut it in this case. And I was right.”

Astarion picked up the papers scattered on their shared bed. Confessions, secrets revealed, plans uncovered. It was all theirs.

“You brilliant terror!” Astarion’s grin was all fangs as he quickly skimmed through the confessions the journalists at the Baldur's Mouth would pay a mountain of gold for. “But how did you convince the drow to tell you these?”

“Ah, well that took a bit of creativity. He didn’t realise that there was a kink quite like mine until last night. Because what makes me really, really hot,” she brought her lips to the shell of Astarion’s ear, “is when my lover writes.”

“We spent the whole night writing down all the gossip that the drow could think of. Quills gliding against parchment, ink stains on fingers, lips being bitten as concentration wavers and then” she said breathily, “with a thrust of the tip into the pot, back to writing we went.”

Astarion eyed her incredulously. Cora could not take it anymore and giggled.

“Was it a deeply satisfying experience, love?”

“Oh, yes. Very much. I’m afraid I tired him and myself out completely. My hand definitely cramped once or twice, but I kept at it. You know how thorough I am in everything I do,” she yawned loudly and wiped her bleary eyes.

“But the best part, my love, is that they guarantee discretion when it comes to kinks. Not when it comes to what is said after the deed is done. Sorn didn’t do anything wrong by telling me everything that he knows. But he cannot tell of anything that transpired between him and I, because that goes against everything that they stand for.”

Astarion just looked at all that she had accomplished in one night. It was so simple yet so brilliant.

“It is all here, Star,” she took his hands into her own, giving his knuckles a kiss. “The underwater prison where Gortash is probably keeping Wyll’s father. The rumours about Bhaalists, sightings in the sewers. And so much more! We can blackmail tons of people into giving us even more information!”

Astarion pulled her towards him with a chuckle and snaked his arms around her middle.

“You villain! I love how your mind works!”

“I told you, I never want to be with anyone but you. I love you. And I want to be with you for as long as you allow it.”

Astarion cradled her body against his tightly, burying his face in Cora’s unbound hair.

“This was all I could think of,” she said softly, running her fingers through his curls with a sigh. “Coming back to you and you holding me.”

It was a moment so tender that he felt like his heart couldn’t take it. It was simply too much. So Astarion threw the covers aside, the papers flying off the bed like startled birds to scatter in all directions, pushed Cora onto the bed and lay down next to her.

“Oh, be quiet and sleep! You frail half-elves need your rest,” he grumbled and pulled the covers back up to cover Cora up to her chin.

“You knew I was a yapper all along. So you have no choice but to grin and bear it.”

“Tsk, shush. Don’t make me silence you.”

“Promises, promises,” she yawned, closing her eyes with a happy sigh.

And for a moment, all was perfect. He knew that this would not last. Tomorrow would bring some new horrors and new battles. But somehow, for the first time in centuries, he found himself feeling hopeful about his future. About their future.

Because whatever happened, they would face it together. And have a lot of fun doing it.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong,

@ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

[selunesdreams]

Somebody in the Hells Loves You

“Gale, I don’t mean to sound unappreciative, but what are you doing here? We haven’t spoken in years - we’re practically strangers-”

A bright white flash interrupted Florence, and she lifted her gaze to find a strange, tentacled ship tearing through the night sky.

“What in the hells?” Her body was frozen in terror. “Is that a-”

For once in his life, Gale was speechless, and as the ship rapidly approached, he cursed and grabbed Florence by the hand.

“Unless you want to see that thing from the inside, I suggest we run.”

Pairing: Gale x Named Tav/OFC

Summary: It’s been nearly a year since anyone has heard from Gale Dekarios. Once a promising mage, he now lives as a recluse, stripped of Mystra’s favor and cursed by netherese magic due to a well-intentioned but catastrophic mistake.

For Florence Ashveil, who left Blackstaff Academy years ago after circumstances thwarted her dreams of becoming one of the best and brightest wizards of her generation, the silence has been even longer. But when their paths cross again just as they are abducted by a Nautiloid ship, it seems they’ll have plenty of time to get reacquainted.

Rating: mature

Words: 3.8k

Tags: just-fucked-it-up-with-Mystra era Gale, slow burn, mutual pining, mysterious past, baggage, sexual/romantic tension Warnings: brief tangential mention of Astarion-related trauma, not graphic, viewed as flashback.

a/n: Welcome to my first Gale fic! The pipeline is real. This story is still developing, so I'm not sure how the rating/tags will be impacted. It's reasonable to expect some eventual smut. Sorry if you were waiting on the next installment of Forms of Imprisonment, I got distracted by this one but promise it’s coming soon!

There were countless times in Florence Ashveil’s thirty years of life when she complained she “ was in the Hells .” Secondary school, family reunions, her first breakup - her mother had chastised her on each occasion, explaining ad nauseam how everyone endures such things, that they don’t equate to suffering a place like Avernus. Once, during exams week, her second year at the Academy, she wrote the phrase in a letter home and received a pigeon from Cora Ashveil the next day.

“I pray you never truly experience the hells, Flossie, because I fear your poor tolerance for distress would set you up poorly for surviving them.”

If only her mother could see her now.

*Hours Earlier*

Florence perused the offerings of the crowded Waterdeep Market alone, following her usual Tenthday ritual. Hundreds of stalls and camped vendors shouted at passing visitors, vying for their gold. A few called out to her with flirtatious compliments, encouraging her to come closer or try a free sample, and she shook her head with a terse smile, keeping wary of thieves. Her fingers touched her coin purse several times to confirm it was still there. She stopped at her usual booth, inspecting produce with a frown as she tried to ignore the never ending voices screeching in her mind.

Check for worms, maggots - what if they’re infested with maggots and you don’t see-

Relief came as distraction - an ostentatious, familiar voice, chatting with a nearby vendor, as if incapable of stopping.

“Did you know the skin of a kiwi is just as edible as the rest of it? I had a friend from Snowdown as a child, his family had vines upon vines of the things growing-”

Gale Dekarios.

It had been roughly a year since the public had seen him, and even longer for Florence. The last time they were in the same room, he’d given her a wistful look as she carried her belongings out of the Academy, books tucked under one arm, her bag slung over the opposite shoulder. She’d kept her eyes downcast, and shuffled out the door as her mentor, Vajra Safahr, solemnly escorted her out. Gale had opened his mouth, as if wanting to say something, but quickly closed it and disappeared down the hall. Florence somehow found the idea of him pitying her more mortifying than the whispers as she left Blackstaff Academy for good.

So when she’d heard he’d become a recluse after an erroneous act of devotion to gain Mystra’s approval, she’d wondered if it had felt the same to him as it did her - to lose your chance at greatness because your weakness got in the way. There had been rumors he and the goddess were involved in romantically, beyond the magic and mentorship. The news hadn’t shocked Florence. Gale Dekarios, a man of massive talent with the Art, was also not difficult to look at.

And Mystra was…Mystra.

“Florence, is that you?”

He squinted in her direction right as she attempted to duck behind a fruit crate and clumsily, she dropped the cabbage she had been examining into the dirt.

“Shit.”

She stooped to grab it just as Gale’s fingers reached it, and he held it out in his palm, like some sort of offering.

Contaminated, filthy, don’t touch it, throw it away, throw it away-

“Gale! I-”

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten-”

“-such an idiot, head’s always somewhere else these days-”

They both fell silent, realizing they’d been nervously chattering over one another, and Gale placed his hand on her arm with a soft chuckle. The gesture was tender, unassuming, and a wave of warmth spread through her body in response. No one had touched her in years, save the occasional side-hug from her mother.

“It’s good to see you.” He said earnestly, with a thin-lipped smile as he stood from his crouch beside her. She caught something in his gaze, akin to pity, as he assessed her, and she felt sick.

“Likewise, I…how have you been?” She passed the produce vendor a few coins with an apology and awkwardly carried the cabbage as they stepped to a nearby wall to move away from the busy path.

“I spent most of the last year in my tower, essentially a hermit. Gets rather lonely, but I do at least have-“ he stopped himself and cleared his throat. “Apologies, I’ve…not spoken to anyone but my Tressym in quite some time.”

“I had heard, are you…well?”

“Yes, yes, everyone’s familiar with the rumors.” He waved dismissively, and a shadow crossed his features. “But how are you , Florence? Surely up to something magnificent. As I recall, you were talented with the Art, much more so than our peers…”

“Oh, I…I’m actually…” she released a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, “I have nothing impressive to report, honestly. I work at St. Laupsenn as a potions artificer.”

“St. Laupsenn, truly? I spent a little time convalescing there with a nasty case of ruddy pox. For all their kindness, leaving that place was a relief like no other…” He trailed off. “Surely there are other notable things happening in your life? Extracurriculars? Don’t tell me you’re wasting your talent brewing healing potions for a living…”

“I…have a shift at the Hanging Lantern a few nights every ten-day.”

As the words fell from her lips, Florence realized she’d just told him she moonlighted at one of the most notorious Festhalls in Waterdeep with no further context. She watched his face reveal all his thoughts as he processed what she’d said.

He blushed. “The Hanging Lantern? Ah - not what I’d expected, but I’m sure you - do you…?”

“Oh! Oh no, I hardly have the looks for that-“ she forced a laugh to displace her discomfort, “I play piano. Set the ambiance, you know, so they can do all the hard work.”

She swallowed and glanced over her shoulder.

“Of course! How could I forget! You always had a beautiful way with music, invariably working your craft into how you wielded magic. Truly creative, poetic, even…”

Florence had appreciated his verbosity, and never quite succumbed to the bitter jealousy her classmates had towards Gale. Perhaps he stumbled over words or bragged a bit too much, but at his core, he meant well. She believed that sincerely. However, as she stood in the middle of the market, she wished she was anywhere else as she made small talk with the renowned wizard.

“I ah…I apologize, Gale. You caught me at an inopportune moment. I have actually somewhere to be, but it was lovely catching up with you.” She placed a delicate touch on his forearm. “Perhaps we’ll cross paths again soon?”

“Yes, yes, I hope we do. Don’t let me keep you. It was a pleasure speaking with you.”

If he tried to conceal his disappointment, he did a poor job of it. Gods, he must have been so lonely this past year. She nodded politely and, as she change direction to leave, his smile faltered. She’d gotten several steps away before she heard him clear his throat and call after her.

“Florence?”

“Yes?” She turned, her mind focused on the produce still in her hands. Invisible dirt and grime on her fingers preoccupied her every thought. She yearned to toss it in the nearest bin as fast as she could and scrub underneath her nails until they bled.

“I…for what it’s worth, if you wanted to, I think you have the looks for anything. I’m sure you look lovely at that piano every night.”

She blinked at him as he turned and walked away without another word. Behind her, a rothé reached over the wooden fence of its pen and nibbled at her hand. She stepped away, startled.

“Here,” she said, extending the cabbage to it, “it’s all yours.”

The rothé accepted her offering and dropped it to the earth, grazing at it with appreciation. Florence wiped her hands on the waist of her trousers several times and walked home with an empty market basket and the makings of a headache.

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

He was in the crowd.

Gods-be-fucking-damned he was in the crowd. She should have never told him where she worked.

Florence set her sheet music on the piano, despite her lack of need for it. She’d memorized everything, but it gave her something to focus on, particularly on nights like tonight when she was prone to distraction. Typically, an over-familiar gentleman would question her about her personal life, or a fight would break out at the bar. Tonight, Gale Dekarios beamed at her and waved cordially from a booth.

Hells.

Surprisingly, the night progressed without incident, and she eventually forgot he was there. Once she’d packed her things into her bag and walked out onto the dimly lit street, Gale was leaning against the side of the tavern, arms crossed in front of him.

“Excellent musicianship.” He complimented her and pushed off the wall. “Apologies if my attendance was disruptive, it’s…been a while since I’ve been out or seen an old friend.”

Friend? She thought to herself. How loosely did this man define friendship? To seek her company. How lonely must he have been?

“Thanks…I rarely have people stop by to listen to me play. I’m more…background noise.”

“I did have to, rather awkwardly, explain my business there when I wasn’t interested in paying for…companionship, but it’s always good to get away from typical comforts…”

She stopped walking and turned to him.

“Gale, I don’t mean to sound unappreciative, but what are you doing here? We haven’t spoken in years - we’re practically strangers and-”

A bright white flash interrupted Florence, and she lifted her gaze to find a strange, tentacled ship tearing through the night sky. People screamed around them and the streets flooded with chaos as bodies collided with one another, stampeding towards hope of escape.

“What in the hells?” Her body was frozen in terror. “Is that a-“

For once in his life, Gale seemed speechless, and as the ship rapidly approached, he cursed and grabbed Florence by the hand.

“Unless you want to see that thing from the inside, I suggest we run.”

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

The tadpole wriggled in her brain like a slithering migraine while her breath fogged the glass of her containment pod. As she returned to consciousness, she kicked and slammed her fists against the window, desperately trying to break out.

A sphincter shaped gate opened across the room, splayed apart in a disturbing manner. Through the fogged window, she glimpsed a githyanki searching the room, trailed by a dark-haired woman with unfortunate bangs and…

Him.

“Help! Get me out! Please!”

Florence prayed her cries would make it through the thick walls of the pod, and to her relief, Gale’s head snapped towards her and he rushed over, investigating the exterior for any indications of weakness.

“There you are! Hold on!” He pressed a hand to the glass to reassure her, and she touched it from the other side.

He’d been looking for her.

Muffled by her vessel of containment, she heard the gith arguing with him, insisting they leave her to die. When he refused, the gith left on her own, and Florence couldn’t blame her. They were wasting valuable time.

She watched him run back and forth across the ship several times before he made any progress, the dark-haired woman lingering near the door until he returned to the pod with a triumphant grin and a strange rune. He inserted it into a nearby console and the seal broke and hissed. A mist rose around her before she was ejected onto her hands and knees, and she struggled to catch her breath, body convulsing as she vomited. Gale rushed to her side, dropping to his knees, and rested his hand on her shoulder with a grimace as she retched.

“Never thought I’d get you out of there.”

“Thanks for saving me.” She panted and wiped her mouth with the back of her arm.

“There will be time to debrief later. The ship’s crashing and if we delay any longer, we’re dead!” Shadowheart yanked Florence from the floor and shoved her towards Gale. He held an arm around her shoulders to steady her.

With a cough, Florence nodded in agreement. “Lead the way.”

They followed the woman through vesseled passageways, using Gale as a support until she got her bearings.

“I see you made friends.” She said as they dodged smoldering piles of ash and carrion as dragons soared dangerously close to the sides of the vessel, screeching and roaring as they set fire to the ship.

“That’s Shadowheart. I found her trapped in a pod, like you.”

“Enough dawdling! We are wasting time.” The githyanki shouted as they met her at the ship’s helm.

“And that’s Lae’zel.” He murmured.

Blocking their path, a Mindflayer fought a large cambion in, and Florence clutched her head as his voice echoed inside of her brain.

“Get to the helm, I’ll hold them back.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Gale said and drew an arcane gate for the four of them. He gripped Florence around the waist and pulled her through, letting go once they stepped through the portal, and began fumbling with the controls. As he did so, a brain with legs and claws scrambled up and stopped at Gale’s feet.

Florence’s eyes widened in alarm, and she instinctively took a step back. “What is that?!” she shrieked.

Gale, his attention still fixed on the console, replied, “I... don’t rightly know, but it seems to be on our side.” He paused for a moment, his brow furrowing. “It called itself Kitty at one point, but I pulled it out of a human skull, so I’m not sure if that’s a comfort.”

“Gods, I’m going to faint.”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.” Gale responded, and with a final flick of a switch, the console hummed to life, stopping the vessel dead in the air.

“Ha!” He said triumphantly, “See? Everything will be just-“

Suddenly, the ship jolted, emitting a loud creak, and darkness consumed all light in view.

“K’chakhi!” Lae’zel pushed Gale out of the way and studied the console. “You’ve cut the power. We’ll crash!”

“Brace yourselves!” Shadowheart warned. Florence searched for something to hold on to, but when the Nautiloid careened to the side, she slipped through the air with no hope of saving herself. Panic gripped her as she plummeted towards her certain death, the others falling just a few feet above her.

“Take my hand!” Gale’s voice cut through the chaos, grasping for her as they free fell. “There’s a transportation sigil on that rock below. I’ll try to get us there-”

His strained fingertips grazed her skin, and he seized her by the wrist. Midair. He seized her by the wrist and pulled her against him, transporting them from the sky to the arcane sigil. Suspended in time and space, Florence’s panic grew. Gale held her close enough that she could smell the cologne that lingered on his neck. An earthy, spicy blend of cedar, sage, and ginger. Just underneath his shirt, she caught a faint glow. Some sort of magically infused tattoo?

“My magic is…diminished, of late.” He confessed over the dull roar of the void. The sporadic swirls of light inside the sigil illuminated his grim expression. “I can only get one of us out. Find me and-”

She hit the solid ground with a thud before he even finished speaking, and the force knocked the wind from her lungs. Blinded by the sun, Florence squinted and threw a hand in front of her face, looking out at the vast body of water shimmering ahead of her. Time passed differently in magical planes, and it seemed hours had elapsed in the seconds the sigil had trapped them. Fortunately, Gale had transported her to this beach, and not an entirely different dimension.

She pushed herself up from the ground and clapped away the sand sticking to her palms. When she turned, she found the Nautiloid wrecked behind her. From the state of it, survivors were unlikely. She kept vigilant as she moved through the rubble, scanning her surroundings for any signs of Gale.

“I saw you. You were on that ship. You’re one of them.”

A pale, ruby-eyed elf with white hair darted into her path and drew his dagger. She raised her palms in a peaceful gesture.

“I fell from the Nautiloid, abducted, just like you.”

“Do you take me for a fool? You teleported!”

“I don’t have time for this,” Florence grumbled. She pushed past him and stormed up the beach and into the wreckage.

“Wait! Where are you going?” He shouted, too stunned to react.

Ignoring his protests, she wandered through the smouldering remains of the ship until a familiar, whooshing sound of a portal caught her attention. Florence exhaled with relief at the sight of Gale’s arm sticking out of the swirling violet hole.

“A hand? Anyone?”

Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm and pulled with all her strength until the portal spat him out. She fell backwards, and he landed on top of her, inadvertently pinning her down.

“Are you alright?” Concern etched his face as he stared down at her. “I hope I didn’t send you too far...”

“I’m fine, but Gale, what-“ Florence began, her words interrupted by a voice from behind.

“My, my. Seems you found your missing friend.” The elf from the beach was leaning against a nearby boulder, hand still on the hilt of his dagger. A clear warning.

“Ah, I didn’t realize we had company.” With an apology, he scrambled off of Florence and helped her to her feet before turning to the elf.

“I take it you too were the victim of a rather unpleasant ocular insertion?” Gale tapped his temple and brushed himself off, extending a hand. “I’m Gale, of Waterdeep-”

“I suggest you stow that hand if you’d prefer to keep it, wizard.”

“Lovely friend you’ve made already, Florence.” Gale mumbled and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets as he bowed his head to Astarion. “I’d advise you to stow that blade or I’ll have to- ack!”

A sharp, searing pain erupted between Florence’s temples. The world seemed to spin as visions, not her own, flashed before her.

You sat cross-legged in a tavern with a hand atop a young patriar’s, sharing a bottle of wine. His other hand touched your knee, and you kissed him, but your chest caved in with repulsion. You insisted he blow the candles out when you reached his room, and eyes open in the dark, you focused on one spot of light, cast from the window, until it was all over -

The vision stuttered and slipped away, fading into…

Darkness. Never ending darkness. Violet-black of the shadow weave swirling as the mark on your chest throbbed harder than your aching heart. You almost had everything, and you gave it all up to impress her. You failed, never good enough. She’ll never forgive you. She doesn’t want you. Nobody could want you, not if they knew-

Florence held her arms out, grasping for anything to anchor herself as another vision flooded her senses like a crashing wave. Her fingertips brushed against the coarse surface of the boulder, and she leaned on it for support as a surge of alien memories invaded her mind.

Swiftly maneuvering through the streets of Baldur’s Gate, you ran for your life, but it was too-

A thunderous crack suddenly filled her head, causing her to lose her balance and fall on all fours.

The woman at the piano was someone you thought you could have fallen for, once. Her chestnut hair fell across her face as she played, the soft curve of her half-elvish ears peeking through thick waves as her bottom lip jutted out. You recognized that look, the focus in it. Such talent, such promise. What terrible thing befell her? Why did she leave the Academy? You never got a goodbye, but perhaps it was foolish to expect one. But you approached her at the market because she was like a beacon of hope. Something familiar from your past that you wished you’d paid more attention to rather than-

“Ugh!”

As Florence regained consciousness, she blinked furiously to ease the pulsating burn in her head. Her tadpole seemed to wriggle with recognition, then settled, seemingly sated. She spared a glance in Gale’s direction. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his hand pressed tightly against his heart with a pained expression, as he avoided meeting anyone’s gaze.

“What in the hells what that?” The elf demanded.

“I think we were in each other’s heads…” she groaned.

“Well, it seems you were telling the truth, after all.” With an apologetic smile, he sheathed his blade and wiped his hands on his belt.

“Let’s start over. I’m Astarion.”

“Pleasure.” Gale responded sarcastically and stood with a grunt. Strategically, almost possessively, positioned between Florence and Astarion, he supported her as she rose from the ground, not turning his back to their new acquaintance. Once more, the peculiar tattoo caught her attention, visible beneath his shirt collar. It no longer glowed, but in the light she could see that it subtly connected to the crinkle of his eye, as if magic tunneled through the capillaries under his skin.

“Likewise.” Astarion said. “So, do you have any idea what these…things are in our heads?”

“Tadpoles.” Gale said, “It appears our minds are linked. Unless you know a healer, in a few days’ time, we’ll undergo ceremorphosis and become mindflayers.”

“Mindflayers? Ha… ha!” The elf cackled, “of course we will.”

“We should stick together until we find someone who can extract them. There were others on the ship. I’d like to see if they survived the crash as well.”

“The more the merrier.” Astarion’s demeanor was suspiciously cheerful, a stark contrast to their earlier interaction. Florence had worked in a Festhall for three years, she could easily spot a charlatan. But rather than press the issue, she chose instead to concentrate on surviving the night without becoming illithid.

They found Shadowheart unconscious on the beach as they wandered the debris in search of supplies. Procuring bedrolls, some abandoned packs from fishing posts nearby, and a few dinner rations, Gale suggested they regroup and rest until morning.

“Out here? In the wilds?” Florence picked at the skin around her thumb and glanced towards the burning ship behind them.

“Presumably, there won’t be a tavern for miles. I think we’re roughing it.” Gale’s expression seemed genuinely sympathetic, which came as a relief, because she felt quite high maintenance complaining under the circumstances.

Astarion edged closer to her, “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll keep you safe,” and she swore she caught a disapproving scowl on Gale’s face before he retreated to the edge of camp, explaining, with some urgency, that he needed to get a sending spell to someone in Waterdeep to check on his Tressym.

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

Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/feedback/constructive criticism (this is not peer read) and a kudos on AO3 if you enjoyed (or feel free to hate-kudos it, I won't mind.)

If you'd like, you can connect with me here on Tumblr or check out my Astarion fic (that features Gale), Forms of Imprisonment!

[thatapostateboy]

for OCs, ships, prompts and askbox prompts, see below!

My inbox is always open, feel free to ask questions, send prompts, or just pester me about any of these! You can find my shared writing prompts here or I accept random requests.

You can find more info over on Carrds here

I also basically run a 'Everyone Exists' AU for all of my stuff - for example, all of the Dragon Age characters exist in Thedas together, so I also accept requests for their interactions together!

Baldur’s Gate 3:

Nel’Tavia Lienthel 'Nell' (Tav)/Wyll Ravengard/Astarion Ancunin

Malakai (Durge)/Shadowheart/Halsin

Malakai (Durge)/Gale Dekarios (this exists in the same canon as Kai’s relationship with Shad and Halsin, but Gale’s not part of the throuple)

Malakai (Durge)/Gortash (past)

Dragon Age: Origins:

Rowena 'Tab' Tabris/Alistair Theirin

Jennifer 'Jenni' Cousland/Zevran Arainai/Nathaniel Howe

Aedan Cousland/Leliana

Callum 'Cal' Surana/Morrigan

Brianna Amell/Bann Teagan

Lyna Mahariel/Tamlen

Thrina Aeuducan/Gorim Saelac

Dragon Age II:

Marie Hawke/Anders

Garrett Hawke/Isabela

Dragon Age: Inquisition:

Brenna Lavellan/Solas

Freya Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford

Moss Lavellan/Dorian Pavus

Summer Lavellan/Blackwall

Dragon Age: The Veilguard:

Evanura 'Eva' (Rook) Mercar/Davrin/Lucanis Dellamorte

Magnus Thorne/Lace Harding

Dragon Age AU:

Alistair Theirin /Rowena Tabris/Jenni Cousland/Zevran Arainai

Rowena Tabris/Jenni Cousland

Rowena Tabris/Anders

Marie Hawke/Varric Tethras

Garrett Hawke/Sebastian Vael

Brenna Lavellan/Krem Aclassi

Greedfall:

Genevieve de Sardet/Kurt

Dragon’s Dogma: Dark Arisen:

Alicia ‘Ace’ (Arisen)/Mercedes Marten

Liam (Pawn)/Julien

Dragon’s Dogma II:

Ceridwen ‘Saber’ (Arisen)/Glyndwr

Sebastian (Pawn)/Captain Brant

Mass Effect:

Nora Shepard/Kaidan Alenko

Sam Ryder/Vetra Nyx

Scott Ryder/Gil Brodie

Anthony Ryder/Reyes Vidal

Mass Effect AU

Nora Shepard/Sam Ryder

Fallout:

Cora (Courier)/Benny

Natalie Powell (Sole Survivor)/Paladin Danse

Stardew Valley:

Farmer Jack/Penny

Farmer Daniel/Alex

Fable:

Princess Sophia (Hero of Brightwall)/Elliott

Skyrim:

Narah (Dragonborn)/Kaiden

Rowena (OC)/Vilkas

Choices: Stories You Play

(For the Choices deep dive, check out my secondary page https://indescribablechoices.tumblr.com/post/184653680920/mc-masterlist)

[manie-sans-delire-x]

hi 💕 could you tell us a bit about your ocs? im really curious!

Omg my dream ask!! 🙀💕 Of course!!

I'll just do a quick list of basic info since theres so much to tell and idk what you want to know. Their ages obviously change since my stories go over at least a decade, but if they had to have a fixed age, that would be it. Most are just my created player characters from videogames, but I also write fiction with them and they have a ton of lore and story. Sorry if certain terms dont make sense/you dont know what it is.

Elder Scrolls universe: (medieval fantasy)

Lilith: 34, female, bosmer/wood elf, vampire. The Dovahkiin. Shes my first and favorite. Listener/leader and savior of the Dark Brotherhood. Adventurer, bounty hunter, assassin, dragon slayer, vampire slayer. Shes terrifying and burns hotter than the sun. Accidentally adopts Aventus. She once cannibalized her disabled sister as a child during a clan famine lol. Nothing she enjoys more than fighting and power. Is slowly forced into the politics of a foreign land.

Kina Sintav: 27, female, human. The Gray Fox, Hero of Kvatch, and Silencer to Lucien Lachance (and lover). Master thief and assassin. Runaway gladiator slave. If Lilith is the sun, she is the moon and stars. She is endless grief, she is tragedy, she is the mist and rain and fog. Was almost drowned in the lake by her mentally ill mother as an infant after being mistaken as blind. She loses everyone, and her mind in the end.

"Adopted"/developed npcs:

Lucien Lachance: 42, male, human. Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood. Legendary assassin, swordsman, and poison maker. Master, mentor, and lover to Kina. If Kina is the moon and stars, he is the black night. He is fully indoctrinated into the Dark Brotherhood cult of death and murder. Kills his own adoptive children (by proxy- by Kina). He gets caught up in a web of revenge and betrayal, falsely accused of being traitor/is set up, and dies a terrible, tragic death by those he trusted most.

Marcurio: 38, male, human. Powerful mage and educated scholar. Best friend/occasional lover of Lilith, scribe, and her moral compass. He has sworn to kill her should she lose her path.

Aventus Aretino: 11, male, human. Abused orphan child who hires Lilith to kill his abuser. Adopted child of Lilith. He is determined to become a Brotherhood assassin, despite Lilith's warnings. Socially shunned "cursed child" for the taboo of contacting the Dark Brotherhood.

Fallout universe: post modern apocalypse

Cora (Fallout 4): 32, female, synth/android (unaware of it). Created to be a replacement housewife/mother for her soldier husband's dead wife Nora. Shes on a quest to find her kidnapped son. Post-apocalypse, she eventually becomes the raider queen.

Maeve (New Vegas): 24, female, human. Just a girl trying to work as a courier until she survives being shot in the head and buried in a shallow grave. Goes after the man who shot her and stole the package.

Other:

Tav (Baldurs Gate): 26, female, tiefling. A sweet soul, but naively influenced and tempted into corruption.

Atlantis Alatar / Sylvester Suliman (original universe): 27, male, human. A dying man. Powerful young sorcerer who had a very promising future in high society. Foolish, young, narcissistic and arrogant, he makes too many contracts with various demons. Tricked by djinn, he dooms himself into a terrible fate and early grave.

[roguishcat]

Thank you so much @floadwarf1 for drawing my two favourite fools in love! 💖 This is so beautifully done, I adore your style!

My Tav Cora and Astarion at Sharess'. And of course they are up to no good.

Here is a snippet from 'What happens at Sharess', stays at Sharess' '

A quick glance around the room told him that whatever happened last night did not involve the bed, as it was clearly untouched. He felt his shoulders relax a little as he got a better look at Cora. She looked tired out. But Astarion knew what a well-fucked Cora looked like and this was not it. Which begged the question, what exactly did she get up to?

“Cora, sweetheart,” Astarion leaned closer to her, brushing a strand of inky black hair behind her ear, delighting in the fact that she leaned into his touch. “Can you tell me what you did last night to that nice drow man to have him in hysterics, hm?”

She blinked and swallowed her food, feigning ignorance.

“But my love, I have no idea! I kept my promise to you, I didn’t even touch him! Well, once. But that was more of a slap than a touch, so nothing down south.”

“He seems to be of the opinion that after one night with you, he will have to take a tenday off work. ‘To heal physically and emotionally’ if I were to quote him.”

Cora snorted in amusement. It was quite perplexing how she could be a fine, noble-born lady one moment, a little rascal the next, and also a murder-happy villain when the situation called for it. Naturally, Astarion rather liked all of the above.

“Well, my Star,” she purred, pulling his face closer to her own, lips close to the shell of his ear as she whispered softly, only for him to hear “it seems that only your magic touch is enough when it comes to me.”

Then she gave him a peck just below his ear, grabbed her bag and grinned mischievously. “Let’s head back to Elfsong. I’ve got something in this bag that will make you very, very happy.”

Astarion felt a tingle run down his spine and swallowed nervously.

"my Star.." A sketch commission for wonderful and talented @roguishcat <3

[tavoriel]

.

[alwachart]

Just my Tav Cora with her two devil guardians

and the lines of my previous post~

[alwachart]

Ahem

Am I seeing things or this looks like the start of an adult film

[alwachart]

OC Smash or Pass

Thank you @luniidae for the tag! Rules: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

Corali, the necromancer

Stats

Height: 158cm

Gender: Female

Age: +40yrs old (unsure of birthdate)

Sexuality: Heterosexual - Mizora being the one exception (or so she tells herself)

Pros

Extremely loyal, to the point of self-sacrifice

Hardworking, loner intellectual. The opposite to Gale, she will never infodump her knowledge unless you ask first and she is in the mood

Can sing beautifully, but does only alone

Proficient at decieving and charming thanks to her inherited fey magic (half-hag) +2 Charisma makes her sarcastic, clever and funny

Bilingual, but you'll probably never know which second language she speaks (it's infernal)

Is full of freckles and I think that's cute

Independent and the opposite of posessive (could be Halsin's female counterpart)

Cons

Wild hair, growns fast and has a life of its own

Undead appearance with all the downsides of an undead body (cursed by a hag, think of Vampires)

Dom (unless you are the one) and extremely attracted to power

She laughs with an unnerving sadistic cackle and enjoys seeing others suffer (can't help it, it's in her genes)

Emotional in a way that makes her take the most impulsible, foolish decisions

Also prone to violent outbursts and murder

Will use detect thoughts on you and you won't even notice

I tag @msrhaxoz @nikjima @nepherit @bitethedevil @raphaels-little-beast and anyone who has a bg3 OC and wants to do this, feel free to take it from my hands!

[alwachart]

Redraw of some discord silliness

Original meme under the cut

[roguishcat]

Astarion and Cora (my Tav).

I can't draw at all, in spite of trying and failing and trying again over the years, so loved making this sweet little pic with picrew. It was so much fun to play around with!

No pressure tags @preciouslittlebhaalbae @nyx-knox @ayselluna @sorceresssundries

[roguishcat]

Snippet Sunday

Okay, I know that I have finals, but I've been studying for 10 hours straight so I could take like a 20 minute break and write a cheeky little snippet. So here it is! A bit of Astarion x named Tav (Cora, a half-elf noble-born sorceress) oneshot 'What happens at Sharess', stays at Sharess.'

Set in Act III.

“Cora, sweetheart,” Astarion leaned closer to the half-elf, brushing a strand of inky black hair behind her ear, delighting in the fact that she leaned into his touch. “Can you tell me what you did last night to that nice drow man to have him in hysterics, hm?”

She blinked and swallowed her food, feigning ignorance. “But my love, I have no idea! I kept my promise to you, I didn’t even touch him! Well, once. But that was more of a slap than a touch, so nothing down south.”

“He seems to be of the opinion that after one night with you, he will have to take a tenday off work. ‘To heal physically and emotionally’ if I were to quote him.”

Cora snorted in amusement. It was quite perplexing how she could be a fine, noble-born lady one moment, a little rascal the next, and also a murder-happy villain when the situation called for it. Naturally, Astarion rather liked all of the above.

“Well, my Star,” she purred, pulling his face closer to her own, lips close to the shell of his ear as she whispered softly, only for him to hear “it seems that only your magic touch is enough when it comes to me.”

Then she gave him a peck just below his ear, grabbed her bag and grinned mischievously.

“Let’s head back to Elfsong. I’ve got something in this bag that will make you very, very happy.”

Astarion felt a tingle run down his spine and swallowed nervously.

No pressure tags @preciouslittlebhaalbae, @marlowethebard, @bardic-inspo, @ladyduellist

[roguishcat]

For the WIP ask game: what happens at Sharess', stays at Sharess'

Thank you for the ask! Because this is the only fic I'm working on that has my OC Tav. Cora is a half-elf with shadowcaster ancestry who grew up in Sharess'. So she has very little interest in indulging in whatever they have to offer. But being a cunning rascal, she has other, more practical reasons for visiting the brothel.

Astarion scowled as it all clicked in his mind. So this was it then. She just didn’t want him to be upset that she went back to taste whatever was on offer. It was understandable, really. With how much there was at stake, with all her responsibilities, it was no surprise that Cora needed to let herself forget, if only for a moment. Lose herself in someone willing, someone capable.

With the music being loud and the patrons getting rowdier and handsier as they got drunker, he could not hear exactly what she said to the twins. After a brief exchange, the brother, Sorn, if Astarion remembered correctly, motioned for Cora to follow him.

Astarion did not want to see anymore. He knew that technically he near insisted that Cora indulge with the drow when they were here last time. Astarion was nowhere near ready to resume the sexual part of their relationship, but he still felt… he was not sure how he felt.

As they walked up the stairs, Astarion caught some of their conversation.

“Don’t you worry, I pride myself on delivering absolute satisfaction to every guest!”

“Let’s hope that you live up to your reputation. I am very particular when it comes to what gets me… excited.”

“Is that so? Well, whatever the fantasy, we always guarantee discretion. No one will ever find out.”

“I would like to think that. It would be shame if your establishment-.”

As they rounded the corner, Astarion could not catch what she said. He was sure that if his heart could beat it would be hammering loudly. He heard enough to make his insecurity rear its ugly head.

Of course he was not enough. How could he ever be? And Cora, the sweet, kind creature that she was, did not want him to know of his inadequacy. The one thing that he was ever good for. And even that he could not provide. She did not take Halsin up on his offer, perhaps because she did not want him to witness whatever they would get up to. So she had to take of her needs in a different way.

Woodenly, he made it to the bar and ordered wine. Might as well wait for her here. He didn’t want to go back to Elfsong and answer questions about Cora’s whereabouts. And it didn’t really matter if he drove himself mad thinking about what the drow was doing to her here at the bar or back in Elfsong.

As hours ticked by, he was approached several times by the men and women who worked there until they finally got the hint and left him be. Gods, he wished that he could get drunk. But apparently he was not even allowed such small mercies. He rubbed his hand across his face. Picking up his glass, Astarion decided to relocate to a corner table near the window, to be left alone with his thoughts.

When morning finally came and the fist slither of light warmed his cheek, Astarion heard a door slam open and shut somewhere. Someone, possibly one of the workers, ran past him and darted up the stairs with impressive speed. Then another and another. Just what in the hells was going on there?

The answer to his question came in a form of sniffling drow who was half-pulled, half-coaxed down the stairs by two servants, his bewildered and confused sibling waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

“Sister! My head, my eyes, my hand, oh it hurts!” he wailed quite pathetically, making Astarion’s ears perk up in curiosity, “I have never been subjected to something like this in my life!”

“Brother? Are you unwell? Shall I call for a healer?”

“No, I don’t need a healer. What I need is rest!” he threw his arms up and pushed past her, confusing whatever guests were still milling about with his theatrics. “Do not expect me to entertain for at least a tenday! In the very least, I earned this respite!”

Now that was interesting. Astarion was curious to know what exactly was it that Cora had the drow do. Because surely… surely it could not be that bad and depraved, right? Had she been going easy on him all this time? He swallowed, not sure if he was concerned or impressed.

As he snuck past the workers and walked into the drow’s room, Astarion watched Cora stuff her face with the delicate little breakfast pastries, finely cut meat and whatever else was on the table. Quite a spread for a simple breakfast. But then again, she was quite the guest, apparently. And here at Sharess’ they knew how to cater to every whim.