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avocado-writing · 9 months ago

Note

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

*eats your words*

no but seriously, your writing has me kicking my feet when I’m supposed to be typing an essay 😞‼️ I was wondering if you could do some headcanons for the companions x monk! Tav who, when being confessed to, Tav responds with “it’ll pass”?

basically fleabag inspired 😍‼️ please and thank you! stay safe n warm 🔫

OH GOD HEARTBREAKING i tried to make it have a happy ending tho!!! enjoy! and I'm so glad that you enjoy my writing! (mild nsfw mentions)

writing as if you're saying this because you think you wouldn't be the best option for their future, one way or another, and want to try and soften the blow for them by replying like this. you only want them to be happy and you're scared it can't be with you.

Astarion

you cup his face, and the look in your eyes is so, so sad.

you think perhaps your simple nomadic lifestyle will not be enough for him. you love him, you do, but he needs someone more modern. more cosmopolitan.

when you tell him it will pass you see a myriad of expressions cross his face: sadness, confusion, anger... but finally, resolve.

he takes your hand in his, firmly.

"my heart. I know when things will pass, and when they won't. my love for you is not some trifle, a fashion to be abandoned like it would go out of style. I mean it. I can make my own decisions, and I have decided where I want to be. It's with you."

he reaches out to embrace you. you're surprised, but let him do it anyway, and you bury your face into his neck to hide your emotions.

maybe, just maybe, you were wrong.

you hold him tighter than ever that night.

Gale

you're worried he is too smart for you. that he will get bored of you, and the idea breaks your heart.

you tell him "it'll pass" when he confesses because you're scared.

seems actually offended that you'd tell him his love for you might be fleeting.

"there are things which will span the ages. stories, gods, heroes. my love for you is one of them. I do not confess that lightly. you are a beacon of hope in my life, love... and that will never fade."

goes on for some time afterwards about how committed he is and how much he loves you, until eventually you accept that he's not going anywhere.

bloody wizards, so good with their words...

fall asleep that night after having the most intimate lovemaking session, all about feeling each other's breath and heartbeats.

he is here to stay, forever.

Wyll

wyll deserves someone amazing. someone who could handle his life if he became duke, and you're scared you'll let him down.

when you tell him 'it'll pass' he is hurt, and leaves the conversation for a moment. you think perhaps it is for the best. you don't need this to cause any more pain.

but later he comes to find you and asks if he can have a private moment. you find out he wasn't hiding from you but preparing: he has a little intimate picnic set up where you can sit and be alone.

when you're comfortable he tells you about how deep his love is, how fate has thrown you together.

"there is nothing about how i feel about you that could pass. nothing."

to prove his point, he slips to his knee, and that is when he proposes.

you're overcome with emotion. you have to accept how committed to you he is, and work out if you deserve something as fierce as his love.

there are tears in your eyes when you accept. you never think his love will pass again.

Karlach

probably the hardest one to say this too. together, your future is so uncertain. it will be easier to break it off here rather than maim both of you.

gets angry. in fact, goes into a rage. tears up the surroundings, and for a moment you're taken aback--

but then she turns and she's sobbing, stuck at the midpoint between being apoplectic and brokenhearted.

"you don't get to decide that for me! you don't! you're the first person i've loved... I've touched... I've felt anything for, for a fucking decade! when i feel this, it doesn't fade! how dare you think about yourself like that? as if you're some sort of phase?"

eventually she calms down enough but bursts into tears instead. you go to hold her and she embraces you so tightly that the wind is knocked from your body.

"i love you. i won't leave you. don't leave me." her voice is tiny.

how could you ever say no? how could you ever doubt her?

when the two of you are in Avernus, you're reminded of this moment, and so glad she fought against it. you'd trade this away for nothing.

Lae'zel

would she want someone like you? long term? she's so brave, so fierce. what if you're not good enough? what if your relationship develops only for you to let her down?

she gets angry too, but quieter.

is furious that you would question her affection.

"githyanki do not give their devotion lightly. the fact that you think my love for you could pass makes me wonder how well you know me."

it turns into an argument where you try and explain your side, and she's angry at you for thinking this way.

eventually it descends into angrily making out. some fierce lovemaking. her saying how much she loves you, possesses you, between every bite and kiss.

you lie in the afterglow. she says she will not leave, and pretty much tells you that you won't either. you agree, and tangle your hand with hers.

Shadowheart

tries to hide how hurt she is.

yes, Shar is the lady of loss, but the idea of losing you... of not having you in her life? unthinkable.

you only tried to tell her it will pass so that, if she wishes to become a dark justiciar, she will have no lingering attachment to you after.

and yet...

it is blasphemy for her, but she refuses to let you go.

"no. i won't allow it. i can't believe this will fade between us. you are the most precious thing to me. stay."

you're weak for her, end up tumbling into bed, reconfirming your love for each other.

you never quite believe that this is forever until she changes her hair, embraces selune. then your heart is full of joy. and it is full of Shadowheart.

#shadowheart x tav #shadowheart x reader #lae'zel x tav #lae'zel x reader #karlach x tav #karlach x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #wyll x tav #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x tav #wyll ravengard x reader #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale of waterdeep x tav #my writing #request

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dekariosclan · 10 months ago

Text

Choices

Tav, remembering the first time they came upon a corrupted portal, and chose to free a wizard from it.

Tav, remembering how the wizard said, “Hello! I’m Gale of Waterdeep,” with such warmth and affection, such a sweet smile, that they were powerless to choose anything other than to have him join the party.

Tav, remembering the weeks after, of Gale slowly opening up to them. Of Gale offering approval on Tav’s toughest choices, even when others in the team were critical. Of Gale offering his hand when he was at his most vulnerable, to show Tav the horrors inside of him. Of Gale offering to help Tav conjure the Weave, to show them the beauty inside of him, too.

Tav, remembering the first time Gale confessed his love for them, when he conjured illusions of the night sky; an aurora borealis; a recreation of his home in Waterdeep; and a breathtaking view of Waterdeep itself.

Tav, remembering how Gale then offered a choice: to make love amongst the stars as the Gods do, or to make love in the ‘old ways,’ on a four-poster bed amidst the sound of their own hurried breaths and low murmurs of lust.

Tav, remembering how Gale chose to do all of that for someone whom he’d only just fallen for, and how he’d implied that it was not his best effort, saying: “If things were different, if we were home, I’d have taken the time to do things properly. To say it all better. But time is short.”

That was then.

Now, the Absolute has been defeated, and Tav and Gale are finally able to choose their own fate: Return to Waterdeep? Stay in Baldur’s Gate and rebuild? Go off adventuring? In the end, the choice they make hardly seems to matter—so long as they’re together.

Gale’s orb is either removed by Mystra or quieted by his own contentment. He is eager to become Tav’s husband. He loves Tav more than he’s ever loved anyone, mortal or immortal. He is happier than he has ever been in his entire life.

And now, on their wedding night, Tav remembers his words from their first night together; remembers that now he does have the time to do things properly…and wonders what he will choose to do with that time.

He chooses to be overflowing with joy, to start. Every declaration of love whispered in Tav’s ear ends with ‘don’t you agree, Mister Dekarios?’/‘what do you think, Missus Dekarios?’ or Gale simply lifting Tav’s hand to his lips for a kiss. Reveling in the sight of his ring on Tav’s finger.

As he leads Tav to the bedroom door, there are rose petals scattered on the ground leading up to it. But when Gale ‘My-Grand-Gestures-of-Romance-Can-Never-Be-Grand-Enough’ Dekarios opens the door, it’s not to reveal a bed covered in roses; instead it’s a whole field of roses, with a clear path to the bed in the center. Tav can see the sun setting in the most beautiful sky they have ever seen, casting a romantic peach-hued light over everything. There’s a picnic spread with food and wine and cheese and so many dessert options it puts their wedding catering to shame. There’s a lake that Tav already knows will be the perfect temperature for skinny dipping. And of course, next to the bed—one so luxurious the previous four-poster bed seems forgettable—there’s a pile of books. Many are collections of romantic poetry, but there’s other, more intriguing titles as well. Titles about pleasure and positions and astral lovemaking. It’s so incredible it’s almost too much for Tav to take in.

But most wonderful of all is just Gale standing in front of Tav, his eyes radiating love as he holds their hand. “Well, my dear?” He asks softly. “Where do you want to start?” He waves a hand at the scene in front of them. “Choose,” he encourages them with a smile.

And Tav, in awe of this man, his creativity, his talents and his unmatched heart, fully intends to sample everything he’s done—but the very first thing they choose to do is wrap their arms around him, claim his mouth in a hungry kiss, and pull him to the ground right there. Bed be damned.

Gale’s laughter against Tav’s lips, as he returns their kiss with his own matching fervor, lets Tav know they chose correctly.

On all counts.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale x tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep

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alpydk · 2 months ago

Text

Communication

It's that time of year again when I am unexpectedly hit with a smutty idea. Seriously, I've been pretty antismut recently and was almost accepting it wouldn't come back. So... here we go. (Also I wanted an excuse to use this gif even if it doesn't match anything in the plot.)

Tav and Gale are happily married... sort of. Tav takes matters into her own hands.

Word Count - 3571 - C/W - Smut, Gale needs a suck hug

A year they had been married, one of blissful exploration of the senses, days lying on picnic blankets with wine and poetry, nights with gentle prayers on flushed lips. Gale had learnt her body as if it were the Weave itself, the way the curves dipped and rose like the valleys beyond the coastal mountains, the way she would whine when his tongue flicked upon sensitive flesh. He played her delicately, the sweetest symphony of harp strings at his fingertips.

Whispers of love and devotion filled the air as he lay with her, worshiping her body, giving sacrifice after sacrifice. His goddess. His Tav. She was his world; she was the stars and moon; she was magic. And he swore he would make her complete in every way he could.

A short giggle could be heard from the library, the kind given when eyes met a longed for but unbefitting sight: the lustful suck of a finger, a bead of sweat rolling down a firm abdomen. Her cheeks blushed like that of the ripest apple. Tav lowered the letter she’d received, the words leaving her heart beating rapidly and mind on a trail of adventure. As Gale entered the room, she quickly hid it behind her back, the smirk however remaining against her will.

“A beautiful smile on a beautiful morning,” he commented, choosing to ignore the sheet of paper she clenched in her hand.

This hadn’t been the first letter in the past tenday that she had hidden from him, her eyes bright and mood giddy. He’d seen the penmanship, the curved AA that lay at the bottom with the red rose wax seal. He had tried to approach her on the matter, only for her to dismiss his concerns. Rather than open the discussion further, to outright ask her what the letters were about, he instead tried to do better by her. He put himself more into complementing her, into cooking and cleaning. He used his practiced tongue in the way he knew best and hoped that it would be enough to keep her sated.

The broad grin she held wavered, her eyes dimming a little as the words of the letter thankfully secluded themselves in the deepest part of her mind. “I’m to take a trip. I received the letter but a moment ago.”

“A trip?”

She had not spoken of anything of the sort recently, but then secrets were becoming more common with each passing day. The letters, the odd sending spell he detected as he watched her from the balcony. Words he never heard; words not meant for him to know. He stepped towards her, trying to push down the budding anxiety in his chest. He was losing her, and a trip would merely be the apparition fading into the unknown.

“You never mentioned…” His voice trailed off, hoping she would explain further, hoping he wouldn’t have to piece everything together and find a conclusion that would strike him painfully down to the core.

She kept the letter clutched behind her, feeling the coarse creases of the paper in her grasp. His worry was evident. It had been each night she had slid out of the bed away from his embrace, as she had smiled without happiness at his conjured stars, as she felt the brush of his lips upon hers but not felt the passionate fires of their first nights together.

“I didn’t think it was going to happen. It’s only a few days in Baldur’s Gate on behalf of the library there.” She knew the lie wasn’t the best, but anything like sick relatives or another serious matter would have resulted in Gale wanting to attend with her. “I’ll be staying at the boarding house at Wyrm’s Crossing. You remember the one, don’t you?”

“Not exactly the safest or most extravagant of establishments, my dear. I could always come with you, and we could stay at the Elfsong.”

She was quick to cut off the idea. “Oh no, you can’t. You have that seminar.” Tav had already taken all the dates into account. How Gale couldn’t get out of the conference on Netherese lore and fable and would be forced to stay in Waterdeep. “Besides, it will be an adventure of sorts for me. Just like old times.”

That was what concerned him most. She would find someone else if she hadn’t already and that would be it between them. Searching for solutions, he was met with nothing. Days passed, the trip nearing, and he found that each question he had was met with an already summoned answer, all ideas met with criticisms. She had planned this journey far in advance and she was leaving, whether he liked it or not.

“Tav, my love. You know I do not wish to smother you, nor stifle your free-spirited personality, but I cannot help but be concerned that something is amiss.” He took her hand in his, desperately searching her eyes for the truth, for the love he had once known from her.

All Tav could do was place her lips to his, ignore the burning in her closed eyes of the tears which threatened everything. She hated how she was hurting him, but this was for the best. If he was to be happy, to be complete, she had to leave. “I love you.”

He didn’t know if he believed the words she whispered, if her kiss was anything but a cruel substitute prize to soften the abandonment. She said she would come back, and Gale clung to that thread as if it were his last lifeline, a magical artefact to quell the destructive orb within. “And I love you.”

---

The tower felt cold and empty without her there. It would be a tenday travel to Baldur’s Gate, then however long she stayed there, then a further tenday back providing no issues occurred with the transport. She claimed it was the quickest she could do, the spells too expensive for teleportation, that the route was nice to travel this time of year, and again he had accepted her words. He knew more time away gave her more distance to cover before he would accept the truth, but he was too blinded by love, too desperate to be loved, that he accepted it all and clung onto hope.

Spending his days throwing himself into his research and teaching, he hoped it would help the time pass quicker. The AA on the letter bothered him more than it should have, the image of red rose petals she would no doubt be lying amongst distracting him from his tasks. Gale knew Tav’s past with the pale-skinned elf, someone he considered a friend, and he also knew that despite his own physical skills, he did not have two hundred years of experience to fall back on. Making love to a goddess was not the same as worshipping a mortal, and it was there he would always fall short if compared.

The route home was dismal as the rain came thundering down late in the evening. Tav had been gone for two tenday and Gale was slowly finding the routine of loneliness once again. There had been no contact since she’d left, no replies to his sending spells, no letters to know she had arrived safety. The library of Waterdeep had no confirmation of any trip, only that she had scheduled days away with an open return date. It had been that result which had confirmed everything to him, and he had prepared to move on, no matter how much it hurt.

He opened the door to the tower, his cloak drenched and knees aching from the icy winds that blew. Finding a light glimmering down the stairwell from the upper floor, he felt his heart rate increase, an igniting of the buried ember of hope he’d tried to bury.

“Darling, a little deeper… How does that feel?”

Gale heard the familiar purr and with it the soft whine of Tav, one he’d learnt himself by heart.

“Oh… again, right there…” she whimpered. “Astarion, you’re so good at this.”

Gale chucked off the sodden cloak and ran up the stairs, ignoring the pain in his legs. Wet footprints lined the stone steps, a trail of the storm left in his wake. Anger burnt deeply inside him, that they would have the nerve to return to his home and partake in such intimate activities, that she would hate him so much that she would hurt him in such a way. To abandon him without a word was something he could unfortunately handle, experience no difference between goddess or mortal, but to have the relationship trampled on, to so ashamedly flaunt someone else in his face, was simply cruel.

He pushed open the heavy oak door to the bedroom; the laden fireplace flickering, creating dancing shadows on the walls of books and paintings. Ruffled navy-blue bedsheets lay exactly how he had left them in the morning, not twisted with the sight of two lovers in the throes of passion. What he had expected to see naked and entwined instead sat fully clothed on the sofa, both staring at him with a mixture of embarrassment and humour on their faces. Wine glasses lay on the wooden table before them, various books opened to random pages, abandoned with the night’s discussions.

Tav grinned, removing Astarion’s cool hand from her shoulder as she went to get up. “You’re late,” she joked, standing and approaching Gale. The confusion merged with anger was evident on his face, but she hoped it would pass quickly now she had returned.

“And you’re back…”

She stood within arm’s reach of Gale, wanting to lift her hand and touch the soaked white shirt and dripping chestnut hair, but not knowing if it would be the right thing to do. Neither knew what to say, how to start the inevitable discussion of her previous whereabouts.

Astarion broke the awkward silence, rising from his seat, and sipping the last of his glass of red wine before him. “I’ll take that as my cue.” He sauntered over to Tav, placing a soft but goading kiss upon her cheek. “Enjoy your night lovebirds, and if you need me, don’t be afraid to send one of your little spells.” He chuckled to himself, seeing the way Gale’s jaw tightened. “Oh, don’t worry, love. She’s all yours.”

The slamming of the door to the tower left Gale and Tav in a heavy silence. He was hurt, ready to fight, but he wanted to take his time first, draw the truth from her until she was begging for his forgiveness. “Astarion looked well,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

She sighed, bringing her soft palm to Gale’s dampened face, feeling the moisture cool her hand. Ignoring the tension was impossible and so she wanted to diffuse the hate fuelled situation as quickly as she could. “He is… Look, what you saw-”

His mood was quick to falter, too many lonely nights spilling over against his will. “What I saw was someone who I believed was my best friend cavorting with my wife,” he interrupted, twisting away from her touch as if it were a weapon ready to cut. He didn’t want to hear her excuses, her snake tongued deceit, not whilst the image of her body being touched burnt so fresh in his mind.

“Gale, just-”

“No, don’t Gale me,” he spat. “You left. Without any word or explanation, you left.” He wanted to compose himself, to approach this rationally as he did all things, but he couldn’t accept what had happened, and he certainly couldn’t accept any more lies. “I would allow it if you no longer wished to be wed, but these things should be discussed first. Instead, you lied to me, claiming you were on some trip because you lacked the common decency to say you did not love me.”

“I do love you!”

“No.” A flicker of doubt lulled in his voice, a worry that maybe he had been mistaken all along, that his history with Mystra still wormed its way in his skull and he had acted on trauma rather than truth. “I am not some fool you can toy with, Tav. I saw the letters. I know about the spells. How long has it been going on for?”

She looked at him perplexed, trying to work out where his mind had been going the last few weeks. “How long has what been going on?”

Gale scoffed at her ridiculous question, feeling insulted by her continued acting. He paced the room, his boots leaving their dampened marks on the floorboards. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me. The affair!”

Without realising, she let out a laugh, her shoulders relaxing as she finally understood why he was so wound up. “It’s not like that at all. Me and Astarion are friends, you know that.”

The doubt snowballed quickly. They’d been fully clothed, but maybe he had arrived too early rather than late as they claimed. Maybe the journey to Baldur’s Gate had been innocent, but then why had she not contacted him? He stopped his movements and turned to her, taking in her soft smile, the warmth in her eyes he’d memorised on long nights of desire. “Then what is it like? Because right now, all I hear is conjecture.”

Tav took a seat on the sofa, patting to the place next to her closest to the fire. “He was teaching me some massage techniques.”

“And the letters? The trip?” Gale didn’t want to take her offer close to her, afraid that it might lure him in to a false sense of security. He was torn between believing her as he always had done and pulling away to save himself from further harm.

“Was meant to be a surprise for you, which is why I didn’t contact you. Come, sit down and I’ll explain,” she replied, her tone calming. She waited for him to be next to her, gently placing her hands on the ties of his shirt to remove it. “You’re soaked.”

“And you’re avoiding the subject…”

The loose cotton shirt came off and was thrown aside, the warmth of the fireplace hitting his flesh welcomely. She traced her finger up the centre of his chest, seeing as small, deserted raindrops collected on her nail. “Astarion has been helping me. I wrote to him asking for advice.”

Gale sighed at her touch, his body reacting despite his emotions. Usually he took charge, led the dance, orchestrated the symphony, but he was tired, longing for her touch after so many nights apart. “It went amiss to discuss matters with your husband?”

“It was advice regarding my husband.”

Heated kisses were placed on the cool skin of his neck. He leant back, feeling the rise and fall of his chest under her lips, a path of love and devotion being marked upon his body. “And what is so problematic about me that you must hide it?” He gasped as he felt the flick of her tongue against his nipple, a technique she had never used before, but one he found himself responded to strongly.

A devious playfulness filled her eyes at his reaction, observing the way he relaxed into her touch, the way his head hung back and his wet hair fell behind him, allowing droplets to descend to the floor without obstruction. “I want to make you happy.”

The words caught him off guard and he glanced up, seeing the way she gazed up at him, her tongue travelling lazily up to the middle of his chest, collecting the moisture. He took a deep breath with the sight, resisting taking control, trying to remain grounded to hear the truth. “You do make me happy.”

Her tongue reached his other nipple, a quick flick causing his head to fall back with the pleasure yet again. The quickening of his breathing provoked her to do it again, the writhe of his body with the stimulus too much to stay still. She’d always suspected he would be sensitive in such areas, but never understood what it would take to get such neediness from him. Not until now. “Not in the same way you do me.”

She pulled herself back, satisfied with the state he was in. “Me and Astarion took a trip to Sharess’ Caress,” she continued, shrugging off the black fabric of her own clothes from her shoulders, her bare breasts visible in the dim light of the fireplace. “He showed me how I could complete you in the same way you do me.”

Gale responded to the words by sharply sitting up with a confused but offended look on his face. “You spent the night with him?”

Shaking her head with a subtle smile, she placed a palm on his chest, pushing him gently to lie back down. “No. Just like you did so many moons ago, I simply watched.” Her fingertips trailed down the centre of his stomach as he reclined back and as they reached the hem of his trousers, she continued speaking, seeing as he calmed if a little unsure of her actions. “He spent the night pleasuring the young Drow there, demonstrating to me the various areas of which he was skilled.”

Tav’s hand slipped into Gale’s trousers, and he let out a held breath. Her touch was featherlight, not the inexperienced gasping he’d once tried to talk her through. Now it was a light stroking, a twist around the shaft that made him want to jolt further into her palm. Just as he would get used to the rhythm and feel the precipice approaching, she would change gears, her grip becoming firmer, the pace quickened.

“You see, too many nights have you have made me see stars,” she purred, watching as his hand clutched the shadow touched fabric of the chair, the way he bit his lower lip at the sight of her naked breasts. “And I know you’d be okay to continue doing that. But I wanted to be more, to give you more. You deserve more.”

He felt as her other hand pulled at his trousers, forcing him to lift his hips so they could be removed. He quickly brought his arm up, taking her breast in his hand and bringing his mouth towards to the hardened pink flesh. Before he could suck on it deeply, she pressed him back yet again.

“Ah ah. Not tonight.”

Gale kept his hand firm on her chest, his fingers stroking the sensitive skin. He wanted to continue playing, wanted to do as he always did and devote himself fully to her, but curiosity got the better of him. What had she learnt from her little adventure to the Keep? It was as he let go on his control, feeling the warm pressure of her mouth around his cock, that he knew.

Gone was the innocent woman he had married, and now before him was a mistress of seduction. Her soft moans as he attempted not to buck upwards filled his senses. She pulled away for a second, soft kisses placed down his shaft, leaving him breathless and needy, her hand taking over with the slight twist at the head.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long to you. You feel so good,” she whispered between the soft placement of her lips.

He could feel himself getting closer, the sway of her breasts no longer in view as he leant back, closing his eyes and panting into each carefully executed movement upon him. The pressure built with the firm wrapping of her lips around his length, her tongue pressed to the underside, forcing him to the back of her mouth. He wanted to rut into her, wanted to lift her and fuck her in front of the fireplace, but with each moan she gave, each pulse of his cock within her, he lost himself further.

He opened his eyes, wordlessly longing for her to remove the rest of her clothing, to lay herself upon him so he could give to her, just as he had so many times before. The gentle rise and fall of her head, her darkened eyes pinned on him, were almost too much and he released a groan of need.

As her soft hand grasped the base of his cock, joining the dance, he knew he was perilously close to his edge. “Tav… I…” Her pressure changed. Words were gone, thoughts were gone. There were only white-hot stars that filled his vision as his release hit, her tongue lapping up his seed whilst still massaging the sensitive flesh it held. He jolted into her, the pleasure continuing without remorse, his nerves on fire as she slowed her pace to extend the ecstasy as long as she could. He may have once had the practiced tongue, but on that night Gale, usually so verbose, was left with only the energy to give a quiet whimper of contentment.

Tav licked and rolled her lips as she sat back, observing what had become of her husband, his skin now moistened with sweat rather than rain, his tongue tied rather than its normal loosened state. Touching his body was met with a shiver, which caused a smug satisfaction to rise on her cheeks.

“Hm. If that’s what happens on just the first night, I wonder what will happen with a thousand more.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #bg3 fanfiction #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #galemance #angst before the smut #of course #how could i not?

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lirotation · 10 months ago

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Happy V-day! =)

Happy Valentine's day everyone! Insert your hand lol

Day of Heart, Re en'Cormea**

This day, 14th of Alturiak is taken for elves to honor those they love or hold dear to their hearts. By doing so they also honor Hanali Celanil, the Elven goddess of Love and friend to Sune, by sharing the love she gave to all elves.

Astarion is not very "Elfy" to me, he seems to be the kind that doesn't care much about traditions. (I have a whole theory about how he ended up in Baldur's Gate because of this.)

My Tav, Amaara, is human, born to a human father and a half-elf mother. However, she was raised in the Elven city of Silvery Moon and acts a lot more Elven than Astarion. She planned a picnic under the moon on the night of Re en'Cormea. That's the setting of this drawing.

**this holiday is not canon, but was referred to pretty often.

#happy valentines #bg3 fanart #astarion #astarion fanart #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanart #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion romance #day of heart #artstarion #procreate #lirotation

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lanafofana · 1 month ago

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Pumpkin Spiced Larceny

Pairing: Raphael x Tav (kinda), Shadowheart x Lae'zel (background)

Rating: Teen+ for swearing and implied heavy drinking and drunken behavior.

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: Modern College AU. Tav has a bit of a rough past but she's making strides on reforming the errant ways of her misspent youth. Until a friend in need sparks that familiar sticky fingered itch. It's fine though...It is!

Special love to @waterdeep-weavemoss @ladyofcrowsandcoffee Vi and Fangbanger for doing the brainwork of thinking up drinking game names 😘

AO3 Link to validate me with Kudos etc etc etc

Gratuitous self indulgent chicanery ahoy!

There was no getting around it. The pumpkin was fucking ugly.

Tav stared at it, brows furrowed, frowning and trying to come up with something encouraging to say. Her companion sighed.

“Just say it,” Shadowheart muttered, slumped in self pity on her side of the picnic bench. “It’s awful.”

“No!” Tav blurted and then bit her lip when Shadowheart transferred her narrow eyed stare from the gourd in question to her. “I mean, it’s…” Adjectives, each more unhelpful than the last, flew through her mind. Hideous. Gross. Cursed. She tilted her head the other direction, hoping to stir a burst of inspiration from somewhere. A piece of pumpkin hanging on by sheer force of will abandoned its post and landed on the table with a wet splat. “It’s an honest effort.”

Shadowheart gave her a disgusted look. “OH thanks!” She glared resentfully down at her project. “It’s a fucking piece of work. What am I gonna do?” With the dull handle of her blade she prodded the gaping maw of her savaged creation morosely. “The contest is in an hour and Lae’zel’s going to be mortified I submitted this in her name.”

Lips pressed into a thin line Tav didn’t have a clue what to do either. “What was it supposed to be?” she asked delicately.

Her friend rolled her eyes. “You can’t even tell? That’s just, ugh! Whatever, it’s supposed to be a mindflayer, from that game she’s always playing?”

“Right.” Tav prodded a pile of pumpkin guts spilling out from the pumpkin monster’s maw, “and this?”

“A brain?”

“Okay,” said Tav gamely. Running through the options available to them in their limited time frame Tav puffed out her cheeks in thought before snapping her fingers. “Got it.” Her friend looked up hopefully. “Have you thought about hiding?”

“Tav!” complained Shadowheart, threatening to throw a pile of juicy pumpkin guts at her face.

Dodging away, Tav laughed. “I’m not joking! Your girlfriend scares me. But,” she added a hair more seriously. “Also, she like, loves you, right? Like love-love’s you. Like a lot. Have you considered she probably won’t even care?”

Shadowheart scowled. “The prize is a year-pass to all those mixed martial arts fights they do at the colosseum. She’ll care.”

Gathering up bits of pumpkin pulp into a pile Tav sighed and stepped away to throw it in the bin when an idea occurred to her and she froze.

“We could…no. It’s a bad idea.”

Shadowheart was out of her seat in an instant. “No, don’t do that, what were you going to say?”

Gathering the abandoned implements of pumpkin carving Tav considered her words carefully. “It’s a really bad idea but…I think I know where we can steal one.”

“Oh for the love of,” Shadowheart swore. “Is that always your first solution? Crime?”

“Hey!”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me. Well don’t stop there, go on, out with it. Where is this pumpkin and how do we not get caught and how do you know about it and how do you know–”

“You remember that guy I told you about? Raphael?”

Shadowheart’s hands come down hard on the picnic table with a loud smack. “The Dean’s son?” she hissed, horrified at the direction this is going.

“Yeah,” confirms Tav grimly. She picked up the brutalized pumpkin and considered it with a frown before, deciding it wouldn't fit in the bin, putting it back down. “I know for a fact he carved one and I also know for a fact he won’t be submitting it.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“He’s been using one of the art department’s studios after hours, I saw him working on it the nights I had life drawing. And last night I saw him having a row with his father in the quad by the Admin annex.” A twinge of something curled in Tav’s gut uncomfortably at the memory. “Anyway, he’s definitely not in the running anymore. We just have to break into the studio he’s been using and bing bang boom.”

“Alright,” Shadowheart said slowly. She didn't look particularly confident but turned the plan, such as it was, over in her mind a moment. “Alright, fine, let's do it. How hard could it be?”

Tav gave her a dirty look.

“What?”

“You just had to say it, didn't you?” At her friend's blank stare Tav sighed and rolled her eyes. “Nevermind, secure your Jack-O-Shit and let's go.”

Pulling a cardboard box out from under the table Shadowheart dumped in her mangled project and the implements of carving she had used before another thought occurred to her, “How are we gonna break into the studio?”

Tapping away on her phone Tav glanced up with a smirk. “Don't worry about it, I know a guy.”

Trailing after Tav, arms full of the awkward weight of her mistakes, Shadowheart tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible at that revelation.

The pair hustled across campus to find Tav’s ‘contact’ leaned against the back of the Oskar Fevras Fine Arts building. When he heard them coming he looked up from his phone with a smile that was all teeth.

“Hello, my darling reprobates. Looking to spice up your Halloween with a little grand larceny?”

Shadowheart’s eyes nearly bugged out of her face but Tav only laughed, unconcerned. “Hardly, Astarion, we just need to get in.”

“Darling, I wasn't born yesterday,” Astarion chastised, giving them both a look over the frames of his trendy sunglasses. “The only reason someone wants to break into a studio is to steal. And since I'm reasonably certain no one at this institution has produced the next Mona Lisa I know you're not doing it for money. More's the pity.” He pocketed his phone and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “So, who are we ruining with this charming little heist?”

“Plausible deniability,” sang Tav. “Keys, please! Besides, if we get caught and you're implicated, how could you ever manage to look at yourself in the mirror again?”

Astarion barked a laugh. “Very easily, I assure you. You're really not going to give me a teensy little clue?”

“It's for a good cause,” Tav assured him.

Astarion scoffed, disgusted. “Well there went my interest.” He heaved a long suffering sigh. “Very well.” Producing a ring of keys with a motion so fluid it looked like magic he pushed off from the wall and led them to the door. “Here you are then, please don't lose them. I am rather fond of being employed.”

“Thanks, we won't be long.”

Tav opened the door, ready to go in but Shadowheart hesitated.

“You're not coming?”

“Aren't you adorable,” Astarion cooed. “Stick around and be spied at the scene of the crime? No, thank you, dear. I'll be at the costume contest. You can find me there whenever your sticky little fingers are done. Look for the vampire with the great hair. Ta, darlings.”

The art building was a feat of modern art meets architecture. Its layout was similar to an old fortress with most of the building shaped around an open courtyard, a strange golden fountain at its center. The entire thing was a dismal dark grey stone that, while offering a sleek facade, leant itself to casting dramatic shadows no matter the time of day and it was through these shadows the pair passed on their quest.

Empty of the usual bustle generated by the hundreds of students who normally traversed the place, their footsteps seemed to crack especially loudly against the stone beneath their feet, echoing off the imposing walls.

“I’ve never been here before,” remarked Shadowheart, shifting her box onto her hip to dig her phone out of her bra. “It's very…prison-chic for an art department.”

Tav snorted. “No need to wonder who influenced that decision. The school got the money from the Fevras’ family the year the Dean got appointed.”

“Not a man fond of the arts I gather. Unfortunate for Raphael.”

“Yes, well. Fortunate for us because now you'll get a pumpkin that doesn't look like a chainsaw massacre victim. There's the entrance to the studio wing.”

Somewhere the screech of a door swinging open and slamming shut rang out. The pair froze and stared at each other.

“Probably just a professor,” whispered Tav.

“We've got thirty minutes,” hissed Shadowheart, stuffing her phone back down her shirt and adjusting her grip on the box.

The door was unlocked and mercifully quiet when they cracked it open to slip inside. The hallway they entered was long and dark with a single flickering light buzzing at the far end ominously.

“Cozy,” they deadpanned in unison before catching each other's wry expressions and giggling.

“The studio’s just around the corner up ahead, you stay here and keep watch.” Tav took the box from Shadowheart. “Text me if you need me, I won't take long.”

So saying Tav moved down the hallway confidently, ignoring the way the empty windows on either side of her seemed to peer like glassy black eyes in the dark liminal space.

Making a sharp right at the end of the hall she beelined for the door she sought, pulse kicking up a notch in her thrill for the goal. Setting the box at her feet Tav fiddled with the ring of keys, belatedly realizing that none of them were even a little bit helpfully labeled.

“Damnit, Astarion,” she swore, trying one and then another.

There had to be at least fifty keys, if she tried them all it was going to take forever. Swearing up a storm under her breath Tav knelt on the floor to get a better look at the shape of the keyhole and compare the multitude of options she still had to get through. Leaning a little to the side to try to catch the light from the flickering bulb that was buzzing in her peripheral, her knee hit the cardboard box and the tinkle of metal drew her attention.

“Now there's a thought,” Tav reached into the box and withdrew a long thin knife with a speculative look in her eye. She’d jammed it in the keyhole and begun fiddling with it in earnest when her pocket buzzed.

“Twenty minutes,” she was tersely informed. “What is taking so long?”

“We got a problem, Shads, the keys aren't labeled and there’s a million of them to go through.”

“Hells! Well, you used to steal shit all the time right? Can you, I don't know, just pick the lock?”

“First of all, how criminal do you think my history is? Hurtful, honestly.” The lock clicked open and she got to her feet with relief. “Second of all, way ahead of you.”

“You.”

Tav whirled around, her stomach doing an impressive job at jumping for her throat before plummeting clear down to her toes.

Raphael, dressed to impress in an outfit that looked pulled right off a runway, his hair styled to within an inch of its life, stood barely two feet away, glaring down his nose at her.

“Tav? What was that?” Shadowheart’s tinny voice seemed too loud in the silence.

“Nothing!” It was hard to say what was moving faster, Tav’s racing heart or her mind. “Listen, you go ahead, I’ll meet you there,” Tav disconnected the call before her friend could respond.

In the flickering light Raphael’s brown eyes looked black and menacing. When he spoke, his aristocratic voice was cold with fury. “What,” he said through clenched teeth, “do you think you're doing?”

While Tav grappled with how to answer that question his eyes caught on the box at her feet. Something strange crossed his face that the dim lighting made impossible to read.

“What–”

“I came for your pumpkin.” Tav wanted to swallow the words back as soon as they were out but a half formed idea had hatched in the back of her mind and she latched onto it with both hands. “For the pumpkin contest.”

Raphael was staring at her incredulously which was a step up from murderous rage in her estimation so she plowed on.

“I want to make a deal with you.”

That had certainly snared his attention. The Dean's son he may have been but Raphael's deals were legendary. Avoiding expulsion, passing a class you were otherwise guaranteed to tank, even acquiring merits of distinction you were in no way entitled to; the rising star of the drama department could arrange it all. For a price.

Eyes narrowed, arms crossed, he looked from her to the mauled pumpkin peeking out from the box. “Usually, I’m the one offering a deal.”

“That wasn't a no.”

He sneered. “Careful, thief. I could still call campus security. And wouldn't admissions love to hear how the infamous Taverna Featherfall had fallen back on old habits?”

Her pulse was pounding so hard she thought she might burst a vein. He knew her name? Worse still, he knew her history? How? Why?

“Or we could make a deal,” somehow her voice was not as thready as her nerves. “And forget this whole thing happened.”

Scoffing, he raised a brow. “And what could you possibly have that I want?”

That was, unfortunately, a very good point. Her burgeoning skill as an artist notwithstanding she was still just a poor student, subsisting on ramen and rice. So what did one offer the Devil of Dramatic Arts who had everything? Almost everything. Inspiration never tasted so sweet.

“I know about your fight with your father.”

His eyes immediately shuttered and he pulled out his phone. “I’m calling security.”

Lunging forward Tav’s hands closed around the device before he could do so much as turn the screen on.

“Get off–”

“Listen,” she said. “I’m not trying to get involved in your weird family dynamics or anything but you don't seem like the type to just roll over and do what you're told.”

Raphael still looked furious but he'd stopped struggling for control of his phone. Where her fingers were locked around his, his skin burned hot.

“I’ve seen you working on it for days, so let me submit your pumpkin, he'll definitely recognize it's your work. When it wins, because we both know it will, you'll have the satisfaction of proving him wrong.”

Jaw tight Raphael looked away from her, turning the idea around in his head. She’d never been this close to him before and he smelled good. Cherries, coffee, and the distinctive smoke of clove cigarettes.

“I think not,” he said at last and Tav’s dread soared. She wasn't just letting her friend down, Raphael could get her expelled. “You’ll submit the pumpkin in my name.” His eyes, when they met hers, were intense.

“But,” she began.

“Think carefully, little thief.”

“And what do I get out of this?”

“Besides the dubious honor of remaining an enrolled student at this institution?” Tav scowled but if anything that only seemed to charm him. “The winnings, presumably your goal from the start, are yours.”

“Deal,” she said quickly, floored this entire exchange was working in her favor. Inside her pocket, her phone buzzed to life. “Fuck, the contest.”

Shaking off her loosened grip Raphael checked the time on his own watch before briskly pushing past her into the unlocked studio.

The pumpkin he had carved was a masterwork of the craft. Devils cavorted with fiendish glee, the hellish scene embellished with intricate borders of fantastical hellfire. He'd added paint, red and black, since she’d last spied it and applied what looked like actual gold leafing for a dramatic finish.

“Wow,” she breathed, taking in the minute details hungrily. It was ludicrously unfair he should be as talented at visual arts as he was at performance.

Taking Shadowheart’s attempt at carving out of the box to make space for his, Raphael preened. “Tick tock, little thief, you're running rather short on time.”

“You aren't coming?”

Raphael’s disdain was an ugly twist on his beautiful face. “Why would I need a jumped up little nobody like you to submit my pumpkin if I could do it myself?”

She hadn't actually given it any consideration but now she squinted at him in confusion. His face tightened. “My father has taken steps to ensure I am ‘more appropriately occupied’ for the duration of the little festival.”

Tav frowned in sympathy.

“Which is why you'll be the one to accept when I am, as you say, inevitably crowned the victor.”

The sympathy fractured sharply. “I’m what?”

“You want the prize don't you?”

Godsdammit she was going to kill Shadowheart. “Fine,” she grit out. Raphael smiled.

Pumpkin in hand and the clock winding down Tav hustled out of the art building, phone sandwiched between her shoulder and ear.

“Where are you?” Shadowheart demanded when she answered. “They're about to start judging!”

“I have good news and bad news but then more good news after that.”

“Tav, we do not have time for–”

“I have the pumpkin and I’m en route. See? Good news! Bad news, I need you to change the entrant name on the participant form to Raphael Cania.” Shadowheart made a noise but Tav plowed on, “but the prize is still all yours if –when– we win.” Reaching the edge of the mini Harvest festival set up behind the greenhouses Tav paused to catch her breath. “I'm close, change the name, I’ll see you in a second.”

“Tav!”

Disconnecting the call, Tav craned her neck to get a lock on where the pumpkin carving contest was being held. The expanse of carefully maintained lawn, ubiquitously dubbed “the green” was a hive of autumnal aesthetic activity. Students and professors alike milled around homemade stands that offered caramel apples and on theme activities like ‘gourd bowling’ and face painting.

Weaving through the crowd the air smelled ripe with hay, apple pie, and kettle corn.

“Tav! Over here!”

Shadowheart, flanked by their friends Karlach and Wyll, burst through a gap in the swarm of bodies. Taking the pumpkin and passing it off to Karlach Shadowheart rounded on her friend critically.

“We're going to have to talk about this habit of yours of hanging up on me. What happened?”

Tav followed her friends to the tent where everyone's pumpkin carvings were being displayed and judged and sank onto a decorative hay bale with a groan. “Raphael.”

“He caught you?” Wyll’s eyebrows were arched up to his hairline. “Helm Almighty!”

“He did,” confirmed Tav. “We made a deal.”

Her friends groaned in unison.

“Yeah yeah, I know. Don't be so dramatic. It’s not like I had to sell my soul or anything.” She coughed. “Now who’s up for a round of ‘Which Witch is Which’?”

“They haven't finished setting it up,” said Shadowheart. “Let’s start with ‘Were of the Dog’.”

“You only want to start there cause they're serving Hallowine,” accused Wyll with a laugh. “You'll be useless for the rest of the night.”

Shadowheart stuck out her tongue but didn't deny it.

Karlach reappeared from the Jack-O-Lantern tent. “Judging results should be announced in an hour.” She smacked her hands together and rubbed them with maniacal glee. “Now, who am I drinking under the table? Let’s start with Infernal Imbibing!”

For the next hour the troupe of friends managed to hit every single drinking game challenge with mixed success. As predicted, stomach sloshing with the mulled cider dubbed ‘Hallowine’ Shadowheart was quickly relegated to the sidelines to offer her particular brand of acerbic constructive criticism to their opponents.

“It's heckling,” deadpanned Tav, vision swimming a bit after winning a round at ‘Graveyard’.

“It's unethical,” tried Wyll, leaning heavily on Karlach’s shoulder after being trounced thoroughly in ‘Spectator, Spirits and Spooks’.

“It’s Hallowfest!” Cheered Karlach, wearing a lopsided paper crown she'd picked up from the booth running the tarot card drinking game ‘Kings’.

“It is time to drink water,” said Lae’zel, only moderately successful at keeping her stoically stern expression in place when she was swarmed by her drunk friends. “They are announcing the winners of the Jack-O–”

“Shit!” Tav staggered before regaining her balance and beelining for the tent in question.

With perfect timing Tav burst into the tent just as the announcer was declaring Raphael’s victory. Shoving her way past the small throng of participants she reached the podium on the tiny makeshift stage and collected her reward to the resounding cheers of her group of fools.

“Miss Featherfall,” a deep voice growled behind her that sent a bolt of ice straight through her chest.

“Dean Cania,” she greeted, blood and alcohol pounding so fast through her veins she could feel her heartbeat in her teeth.

“I thought I was well acquainted with all my son's closest friends.” The smile that curved his mouth wasn't kind. “Imagine my surprise then, when it was not Haarlep nor Korrilla that arrived to submit his little art project and collect the reward in his absence.”

“And what a regrettable absence it is,” said Tav, riled out of her drunken complacency with the aura of threat that oozed from the Dean. “Wouldn't you say, sir?”

“Regrettable,” he sounded amused. “You young people do have such opinions. A word of advice, Miss Featherfall, tread carefully where my son is concerned.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You're a clever girl,” the words on his tongue sounded anything but complimentary. “You'll figure it out.”

Without another word or glance the Dean turned and left.

“What was that about?” Karlach sounded three seconds away from committing a violent crime.

Shaking her head with a helpless shrug Tav didn't have an answer. Whatever she may have witnessed of the fight between Raphael and his father the other night she wondered if it was just the tip of the iceberg. “Shads,” she said, waving the prized certificate. “I believe you have a girlfriend to woo.”

“Cheers,” Shadowheart squeezed her in a tight hug, “Give me the keys, I’ll find Astarion for you.”

“Gale texted and said they're finally opening the ‘Which Witch is Witch’, Wyll and I are headed over, you coming?”

Tav was about to agree when she caught the faint scent of cherries and clove. “I’ll just be a sec, I’m gonna see what to do about the pumpkin you guys go ahead.”

Her friends dispersed and Tav wandered her way through the emptying tent to where the carved pumpkins were arranged in a neat row on a line of tables.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said, sidling up to a figure in a sharp suit, distinctive features obscured with a fedora and mask. Inspecting his outfit a little more she huffed a laugh, “clean up at the costume contest too, Al Capone?”

Raphael tilted his head, still staring at his carved pumpkin. “Where would Bonnie be without her Clyde?”

Tav’s stomach flipped in an annoying way. Reminding herself he was probably just making sure she did as they agreed upon rang hollow when she remembered the winners of the festival contests were being published in the school paper.

“Right. Well,” she coughed. “Met your father.”

Raphael hummed.

“Not a very warm man.”

For some reason Raphael found this immensely funny and he laughed. “No,” he agreed. “That he is not.”

“Well anyway,” she said, turning to go. “Congratulations on your win. Whatever that means to you.”

Raphael didn't answer but turned his stare from the gourd in question to pin her in place. Behind the mask his eyes glittered.

The pull of her insatiable curiosity felt like it was burning a hole in her belly. “Why are you here, Raphael?”

“Why are you?”

I smelled your cologne. “Just wanted another look at the award winning Jack-O-Lantern. Who knew a performance artist could be so skilled with his hands.” She leered at him but Raphael rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“Life is a stage, wouldn't it follow that every action was a performance?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “And any performance worth doing is worth doing exceptionally.”

“And a philosophizer too? My my. You're welcome by the way.”

“For?”

“Just because I benefited doesn't mean I didn't also do you a favor here.”

Scoffing Raphael removed his mask to give her a sardonic look. “I don't thank people for completing deals as agreed upon.”

“I don't think you're in the habit of thanking anyone. Deal or not.”

“An astute assumption.”

“Then it's a good thing I’m here to bully that stick out of your ass. Get it? Because ass-umption? Makes an ass–”

Raphael peered at her closely. “You're drunk.”

“C’mon, just a teensy little thank you?”

“No.”

“Well then what's my prize? You got some kind of mind game power play win over your father, Shads got to spoil her scary girlfriend, and Lae’zel got the MMA season pass of the, um, season,” she finished lamely. Frowning down at her hands she noticed a loose thread and picked at it.

A sigh from her companion drew her attention and this time when she looked up into his face Tav was struck by how strange he looked. A solitary figure backlit by the glow of a couple dozen flickering artificial candles, pumpkins with wide open maws leering at her from his shadow. If it was anyone else she might have called him sad or tired but all she could think was how ethereal he looked surrounded by fire.

Too much Hallowine, she thought to herself, dragging her dry tongue along her teeth.

Turning to leave, Tav didn't expect Raphael's hand, warm and large, to snag hers from where it worried the loose thread of her jacket.

Nor did she anticipate when that same hand tugged her close, to the source of the decadent scent of cherry and coffee cologne.

“What prize would suit my hero in shining armor then?” Raphael’s voice was dark and smooth as chocolate. Tav’s lungs stuttered and stalled in her chest.

Later Tav wouldn't be able to say who had moved first, her alcohol soaked brain locking away those semantics from even herself. But she would forever recall, with absolute clarity, that Raphael’s eyes had reflected the same startled surprise she had felt a second before their lips had met.

He kissed like an actor, which wasn't to say he was necessarily bad, though only because she was, in general, a magnanimously generous person. No, he kissed like he’d been stage directed through it. His head was at a strange angle, his hands on her face felt awkward and his lips felt stiff. For the outside observer it was probably grade A entertainment.

Locking her hands around his wrists and tugging them down to her waist, she felt a rush of something hot spark alive at the noise he made in the back of his throat. Sliding one hand back up his chest, over the wild gallop of his runaway pulse in his neck, to grasp his chin, Tav tugged him into an angle that allowed her to slide her tongue along his with ease. He tasted like cinnamon whiskey.

Tiamat’s Deck of Many Things, her brain supplied innocuously. At least if he rolled the dice at that drinking game she should consider herself lucky he didn't taste of pickle juice.

When they parted it was difficult to tell who was more dazed.

Adjusting his fedora Raphael gave her an intense look before gently pushing her away. The place where his hands had rested on her hips felt cold in the absence of his touch. “Have a good evening, Taverna. Pleasure doing business with you.”

Tav swayed for a moment before stepping away, the weird moment shattering under his smug gaze. An affectation of cool stoicism widened the trench between them once more.

Leaving the tent, she could have sworn she heard a low voice murmur, “thank you,” but when she glanced back he was gone.

Tag list homies: @12thhouse-sun @dr-demi-bee @spooky-lil-bee @marlowethebard

That's All Folks

If I forgot you drop me a comment and I'll amend my list post haste! 🎃

Divider from The Cutest Grotto!

#halloween fic #tav x raphael #astarion #wyll #karlach #mephistopheles #lae'zel #shadowheart #shadowheart x lae’zel #gratuitous use of the word pumpkin #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #kinktober #flufftober

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lesfir · 1 month ago

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"AA fans are tradwives". My Tav who only wants to rule the city Baldur's Gate, kill enemies, love Astarion and revel in the hedonism of medieval fantasy with him. Yeah, very much. Tav isn't even capable of bearing a child after becoming a vampire.(although Astarion is alive… and Tav drank his blood, the blessing spread hmm) In any case. If you want to find something "traditional" then welcome to the Dadstarion tag. There's a vampiric american family dream with a picnic by the lake, a dog and kids, under the moon's gentle light.

#Who's a trad here?#and if so?? since when is loving Astarion in traditional style something to be snide about #Judging women for how they are more pleasurable to love Astarion here #ascended astarion

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berrincherri · 9 months ago

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Shadowheart & Tav "Candy" having a gay ass picnic together

(Their ship name is Sweetheart hehehe)

Baldur's Gate 3 - Playthrough

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldursgate #shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #tav #shadowheart x female tav #female tav #wlw #lgbt #lesbian #video games #shadowheart x candy #I'm on a mission to draw our Tav with all our favorite companions #starting with her LI Shadowheart :).#they're such losers ugh #their ship name is #Sweetheart

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pendragon1400 · 4 months ago

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In honor of bg3 being a year old, here is how each of the characters react to their 1 year anniversary with Tav.

Gale: Like he does every Valentine's Day or birthday. He gets up a 4 AM to put into motion the plan that he has set in place about a year in advance. Large elaborate home-cooked meal, romantic spa set up, romantic ambiance, and of course "star gazing" planned out. He also tears up if Tav gives him anything in return.

Astarion: Wants the day to be perfect for him and Tav, pulls strings to get the most expensive restaurant in baldur's gate or which ever city you are in. Then of course dancing, and drinks. Astarion doesn't give gifts normally but cherishes anything gifted to him.

Karlach: Almost forgot but had Gale set up a reminder. No secrecy at all, instantly starts with giving a gift, most likely either new armor or a stuffed bear. Very excited all day, somehow manages to swing a table at a local place, nothing fancy more like the baldur's gate version of chillis.

Shadowheart: Pretends not to know, until she surprises Tav with a thought-out gift, like a favorite flower or a meaningful necklace. Of course, Shadowheart also expects a gift or gesture in return. Then has a moonlight walk planned, in a flower garden surrounded by fireflies.

Wyll: Plans ahead, leaves little poems around the house for Tav and organizes or gets invites to attend a dance.

Lae'zel: Is a bit unsure of anniversies, but humors you. A secluded 4-hour hike, to viewing peak where Tav and Lae'zel watch the sunset together.

Halsin: Super sweet picnic in the forest surrounded by animals. Then (most likely at the picnic spot) very much censored activities.

#bg3 #funny #astarion #gale #karlach #wyll #shadowheart #halsin #headcanon #bg3 1 year #baldurs gate 3

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grievedeeply · 1 year ago

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Could I please request first date headcanons for Zevlor and Raphael :)

thank you for this request anon even if it took me forever to get to lol! i love getting to write for characters who dont seem to have much about them out there so this always made me very excited. hope you enjoy!

gn!reader/tav | no tws

first date hcs with zevlor and raphael

zevlor

i think he'd be a bit nervous

he has plenty of experience going on dates, but nothing super recent. he's just been too busy to try anything romantic or indulge in this sort of thing

but when everything calms down he's happy to go on a date with you

it's a nice break for him. not only does he enjoy your company but he feels like he can express how he's been feeling around you, too

your first date together would be something simple. a picnic instead of a theater performance so there wouldn't be any distractions and your focus would solely be on each other

he enjoys getting to know you. he's a great listener, and he's happy for you to just talk without interruptions

you don't kiss or anything. you just relish in each others company

you do have a great time together, though. zevlor promises a more formal date next time

but as long as you're together, you can't complain

raphael

he has an ego so he likes to think it was inevitable that you'd go on a date with him. there is a part of him that feels.. lucky— that you're willing to do this. actually willing

he won't treat you poorly. he may be a devil but he does have manners. to some extent, anyway

he'll take you to a nice, fancy dinner. it's something public so it wouldn't be intimate or overwhelming

he knows that can be offputting, as much as he hates to admit it. and he wants you to be comfortable

he's definitely going to pull your chair out for you, hold open doors for you, the whole nine yards. he doesn't want you to regret doing this.. and he wants to fluster you a little bit

kindness doesn't come naturally to him. most good things he does aren't out of the sweetness of his heart or gentleness of his soul, but because he wants something from them

but not from you. never from you. he only wants you to enjoy yourself

he isn't nervous. he's confident in himself and his abilities.. but a real date feels good. it isn't one he's going on because he needs or wants something, and it feels good

he has a good time just listening to you talk. even if it's about things he knows all about. hearing it from you is a million times better

#bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 zevlor x reader #bg3 zevlor #bg3 raphael #bg3 raphael x reader #raphael bg3 #raphael bg3 x reader #zevlor bg3 #zevlor bg3 x reader #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate 3

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loquaciousquark · 3 months ago

Text

"Please don't leave me/I can't do this without you" from anonymous (caretaker - 20); "dance with me" from @sasskarian (flowers - viscaria); "come down/come back" from anonymous (flowers - Jacob's ladder).

3000 words, set mid-Act 3. I had too much fun with this one, so you'll have to forgive the self-indulgence.

—

“Say it.”

“Certainly not.”

“Say it.” Tav’s whisper had taken on the wheedling quality that it always did when she was laughing at his expense. “Please don’t leave me, darling. I can’t do this without you.”

“I’ll rot first,” Astarion snapped, and he heard Tav stifle a snort of laughter in her own arm. A few rustles followed as she clearly settled down to wait on the other side of the cell wall; Astarion guessed they were roughly back to back, even if six inches of solid stone separated them. He stretched out his legs in the thin, disgusting straw that covered the prison floor, crossed his bare ankles, and closed his eyes. “How utterly useless you are.”

“I’m not the one in Heapside.”

“For once in your life,” Astarion said bitterly, and he heard her laugh again. “Wretched, half-witted clod. Watching me paraded away by three Fists—three of them—for no reason at all. Not even an attempt to save me. An innocent man!”

“You stole a melon in broad daylight.”

“Half a melon. From an abandoned picnic blanket in the middle of the park without a single soul in sight to complain.” He curled his lip in annoyance. “I’d picked it up for you, darling.”

“Liar.”

She was right—he’d taken it as idly as Gale humming while he cooked—but Astarion was in no mood to entertain conciliation. “Well! As charming as it is to sit here and listen to you gloat, my dear, I apparently have a gods-damned sentencing to await.” He thumped his head back against the wall in annoyance. “Nearly two hundred years successfully avoiding this execrable place, and you have me slung in here within a handful of months.”

“I just wanted to share the joy with you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Shut up in there,” one of the guards said sharply. He rattled a cudgel against the bars of Astarion’s cell, then peered into the dim shadows. “Who the hells are you talking to?”

“Myself, darling,” Astarion drawled. “The best company one can dredge up in this awful place.” He rapped a knuckle against the wall behind his head. “Tell me, what’s behind here? Storage? Another cell?” He leered. “Somewhere you and I might be a little more…private?”

“Fink,” he heard Tav breathe through the cracked stone.

The guard flinched, blushed, and smacked the iron bars again. “Nothing for you to care about. Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”

“I suppose my fortitude is robust enough to endure the mystery,” Astarion said aloud, and the guard continued on his route, still grumbling. After a moment, with the last bare vestiges of his temper, Astarion hissed, “Well?”

A series of images raised themselves before his mind’s eye, like a cardsharp rifling through a trick deck. A loose stone about two feet to his left, displaced just enough for Tav to slide through a wrapped set of her lockpicks. A great storage chest in the middle of the main prison floor, made of oak and reinforced with iron straps, where all his stripped belongings had been stored. A view of the main room through a cracked door—the door to the privy hallway where Tav was hidden—and the pair of guards playing checkers at the back table, swords ready at hand beside them.

Excellent. He didn’t bother to work out a plan—they never seemed to come right anyway—but as he laid one surreptitious hand on the loose stone, he felt Tav hold it in place from the other side, preventing him from taking the tools. “Please, darling. Don’t be a bore.”

“Tell me you can’t do it without me.”

“I’ll shout your name to the bloody rafters if you don’t let go.”

“How stupid that I still love you,” he heard her sigh, and the stone released.

Ignoring the swoop his heart gave at that, Astarion quickly unrolled the leather and perused her tools. This part of his cell was exceedingly dark, and he had to pause with affected unconcern for a moment or two as the patrolling guard made another lap. Even so, he could see enough to be disgusted. “Ugh.”

“What?”

“Your tension wrench has a bend in the neck.” He grimaced. “And your long rake is missing altogether. Darling, you live like this?”

“Why would I need a rake when I have the half-diamond?” Ah, there was real irritation in her voice now. Entertainment at last. “And you bent the tension rod, remember? When you borrowed it in the basement of Sorcerous Sundries, after your own melted in that fire trap.”

“I don’t recall,” he said in that offhanded way that he knew infuriated her, and he tucked the rest of the rolled-up toolkit into his shirtsleeve. “Honestly! I’m amazed you’ve ever unlocked anything lately.”

The gasp of outrage made him choke on his own laughter. “Idiot!” she said, the whisper almost slipping into full voice, and then he heard a shuffle behind the wall. “You’re on your own. Tymora keep you in your escape, because I certainly won’t.”

“Come now, darling, don’t be petty.” Astarion paused, but there was no answering retort, no further whisper or step. He reached out with the tadpole, but it rebounded off her mind like a hammer off an anvil, and he winced at the recoil.

She’d wholly shut him out. She’d actually left him here in this Heapside cell by himself. He was shocked at his own dismay. “Tavish? I demand you come back.”

“I told you to shut up in there!”

Silence.

Gods. She’d left him. Two hundred years knowing himself utterly alone and friendless, and the betrayal still felt as new and agonizing as a white-hot poker between the ribs. Gods below. He wanted to rip out his dead heart and crush it. He knew he could get out easily with what she’d slipped him—knew these cells would be as porous as she’d described—but by the Hells, that wasn’t the point—

“What are you waiting for?” Tav hissed.

Relief crashed over him like an upturned bucket of water. “I thought you’d left,” he gasped, unable to pretend away the fear.

“I would never really leave you,” she said shortly, as if it were obvious. Her voice was a little further away, he realized, and a little lower, as if she’d crouched deeper in some shadow, but she was still here, still with him, and the tremendous comfort that provided was at once appalling and invigorating. “I wouldn’t leave my worst enemy here. Well—maybe Gortash, I guess. But you? No. Never.”

“Good,” Astarion said, thoroughly shaken. “I’d hate to have to snap this tension wrench the rest of the way.”

“I’ll snap your fingers if you do. Are you ready?”

“Naturally, darling. Do try to keep up.” He clambered to his feet, stretched, then went to the door of his cell, where he casually folded his arms against the bars. “Guard! Oh, guard! Come here—something’s the matter with my lodgings.”

“Tyr’s right hand,” the man sighed, circling the room’s central pillar to come to him. “You’re noisier than a fleet of jackdaws. What’s wrong with you now?”

“Any number of things,” Astarion said, letting the annoyance bleed through every word. As the guard reached his door, a shadow flickered behind him. It was gone in an instant, and a moment later one of the braziers on the pillar went out with a little puff of smoke. “I’ll settle at the moment for the straw, however.”

“The straw?”

He swept his arm grandly behind him. “Look at it! Thin, damp, and utterly reeking of piss. My dear boy, these aren’t fit conditions for a dog, much less a man.” He could barely make out the shape of the chest that held his belongings in the deepened shadows, but he thought he saw the lid lift an inch or two, pause, then lift a few inches more. “Oh! How curious…hm.”

The guard took a few hesitant steps nearer, hand on his cudgel. “What? What is it? What are you looking at?”

“Your eyes. They nearly glow in the lamplight.” He let his voice drop into his chest, low and rumbling, and turned his head so that the curl of his close-mouthed smile caught the torches. “They’re…beautiful. That’s all. Captivating, really.”

“What does he want?” called one of the guards playing checkers.

“Nothing, nothing!” Even in the dimness Astarion could see the man was blushing furiously. Gods, how easy it was to slip back into all of this, like reaching for some ancient tattered overcoat at the start of winter. Not warm, not beloved, not even attractive—just the only functional defense one had against freezing to death. “Captivating,” the man repeated, a little amazed, and then he gave a self-conscious laugh. “Oh. Because you’re—because you’re captive.”

Disgusting. A wit. Astarion snaked a hand between the bars and ran a finger up the man’s armored stomach. “And charming, too. What a pity.”

In his periphery, the lid of the wooden chest dropped silently shut. The shadow darted back behind the pillar while the man was staring cross-eyed at Astarion’s finger; a moment later Tav straightened up directly behind the guard, peering at Astarion over the man’s shoulder. Her eyebrows were raised in question.

The fight to keep his face still was monumental. Little idiot!

The man gave a startled, awkward laugh into the quiet and began to back away. Astarion hooked a finger in his collar like lightning and dragged him an inch or two nearer the bars. “You know, darling, this cell’s rather big for one person. A man might find himself lonely if he’s left here long enough. You know…” He licked his lips. “Frustrated.”

Tav rolled her eyes over the guard’s shoulder, but she noiselessly dipped away into the dark again as the guard stammered and babbled. After a few seconds Astarion saw the door on the far side of the room crack open, revealing a glimpse of stairs beyond, then close. He waited a few minutes more, idly toying with the guard’s belt as he murmured something nonsensical about candlelight, and then the door opened and closed again without a sound. Perfect.

“But you’re—you’re so beautiful,” the man was saying, and the very small portion of Astarion that was still listening gave a polished, tittering laugh. “I reckon I probably shouldn’t have—you know. Told you to shut up.”

“You’ll think of a way to make it up to me,” Astarion purred, and the entire prison rattled with a brief but deafening explosion.

Dust and grit cascaded down around them. Astarion’s guard didn’t yelp, but the other two did, and all of them waited in breathless silence for the braziers to stop trembling. The explosion had come from directly above the prison’s main room, and Astarion could hear shouts and calls of worry over many pounding feet.

“We’d better—” one of the guards at the checkerboard said, and she and her partner rose and hurried through the far door to the stairs—after unlocking it first, which Astarion found immensely satisfying. The guard at Astarion’s cell hesitated, glancing back and forth between Astarion and the door where they’d disappeared; eventually the fear won, and he trotted with one hand on his cudgel to the base of the stairs and peered up after his comrades.

As effortless and choreographed as a dance. The moment the guard’s back was turned Astarion had the lock undone, even with Tav’s wretched half-diamond and bent tension wrench. In a trice he was out of the cell altogether, the dagger Tav had slipped him via the guard’s belt firm in his grip.

She’d understood his need for a blade, even with picks in hand. She knew better than most the difference between being loose and being free.

Another brazier winked out with a puff of smoke. Astarion spared a precious few seconds to relock the cell door behind him—if she could do it, so could he, and it would be hilarious besides—and as he finished he felt Tav’s hand alight on the small of his back. He raised his arms for her to rebuckle his belt around his waist; in the same motion he returned her picks to their leather case and hooked the case itself to her hip. The belt’s leather tongue hissed as she drew it taut, and the returned weight of his sheathed knife was a comfort in itself.

The dagger he kept bare in his hand. For an instant his eyes fell on the guard still standing at the bottom of the stairs. The throw would be effortless, even in the dark. Simple. Clean. The smart thing to do, really.

But Tav wouldn’t like it. He knew she wouldn’t, as sure as he knew their next steps in this silent waltz, and with a grimace he turned away from the guard. She lifted her eyebrows again; he gestured impatiently, and she gave a slow, sweet smile before hooking a hand around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss.

Ah. An improvisation, and one Astarion enjoyed very much, even here. He sighed through his nose, the weight of the last few hours rolling away like the coins from a spilled purse, and he slid an arm around her waist. His own pack obstructed his way briefly, the straps far too long for her shorter frame, but she arched into his chest anyway with her habitual eagerness, and that was more than enough.

Gods. How easy it became to endure every trial the city might conjure up when he knew Tav would be waiting for him at the end of it.

“I have a confession, darling,” he breathed against her mouth. A second, much smaller explosion went off upstairs to a chorus of startled cries.

Tav’s eyes were bright with humor. “Hm?”

“As it happens, I’d rather not do this without you.”

“Mm,” she said, satisfaction thrumming through the sound, and she kissed him again.

Ah, but they were pushing their luck already. Despite every part of him yearning to cling to Tav until the prison came down around them, he released her when she pulled away, and when she led him by the hand back through the privy door he followed without complaint. She locked the door behind them; he broke the bolt in place. He’d very much miss seeing the guard’s look of stupid shock, but—

“Here,” Tav whispered in his ear. She slid aside a stone about the length of a finger, just wide enough for Astarion to peer through if he crouched a bit. “Found this about eight months ago.”

“The gifts you give me, my dear,” he breathed, and he felt her vibrate with laughter against him. It took a little jostling, but they managed to find a position where they both could see, and they watched together as the guard at last came back around the pillar, glanced over, and paused with comic confusion at the sight of the empty cell.

“Uh,” the man said aloud. He crossed to the cell door, jostled it, and then unlocked it with a key from his pocket. He stepped into the cell itself with a series of useless looks to the walls, the scattered straw, and inexplicably the ceiling, as if he expected to find Astarion clinging upside-down to the stone, then came out and stared helplessly at the empty room. “Uh,” he said again, much higher, and then with obvious panic he quick-marched himself up the far stairs and out of sight.

Still laughing, Tav led Astarion back along the privy hall, past the privy itself, and then through a small broken grating about halfway up the wall. It was a tight squeeze for Astarion, though he made do by pinching Tav’s ankles every time she paused, and soon enough they stood on a small stone ledge overlooking a reasonably finished portion of the sewers. Another much larger grate to their right let in a considerable amount of afternoon sunlight, and Astarion stretched catlike in its warmth.

“An acceptable rescue, I take it,” Tav said, watching him. That damnable smile still played over her mouth; Astarion wanted very badly to kiss it.

“A little lengthy, I thought,” he said instead, and settled for resting his fingers alongside her throat. “And it all involved me spending rather too much time with a very dull idiot. Though I suppose I can’t really complain, seeing as I am, in fact, free once more. Here, darling, for you. Never let it be said you found me ungrateful.”

“What’s this?”

“Only a small trifle,” he said, and watched with tremendous satisfaction as she opened the clinking bag.

“Astarion!” Her eyes lit with genuine delight, and she ran her fingers through the gold like water. “You lifted this for me? Really?”

“Every coin he had,” he said, and when she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek the satisfaction in his chest brimmed over into an ocean. “Besides, my dear, I suspect you’ll need it. How much alchemist’s fire did you use, anyway? I thought the walls might come down around my ears.”

“Every vial we had,” she admitted, and she gave him a proper, if woefully brief, kiss on the mouth. “I thought the first match hadn’t taken, so I threw three more. Thank Gond the mortar held. Here, take back your pack. It’s heavy.”

“And you’ve all the strength of a damp tissue,” Astarion said, but he lifted the pack from her shoulders. A glimpse of something beneath the half-latched flap made him pause. “What have you done?”

“I thought you might want it back,” Tav said, the picture of perfect innocence. “Seeing as it started this whole mess in the first place.”

“You ghastly thing,” Astarion said, fangs bared, and with a great deal of prejudice he slung the blasted sunmelon as deep into the sewers as he could. It bounced twice, then disappeared into a small algae-choked pond with a sploosh. “How fortunate you have other charms.”

“Yes,” Tav agreed, linking her fingers through his, and they climbed together from the sewers into the clean, sweet air of the sunlit afternoon.

—

end.

—

For the record, Astarion's melon incident is adapted from this series of in-game events.

#astarion #anonymous #sasskarian #quark writes #baldur's gate 3 #tavstarion #tav #i made myself laugh so many times writing this so you're just going to have to suck it up #flower prompt meme #caretaker meme

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