#githyank

[predninja]

Nyan and Roja got their roles, and an understanding

[tentaclesandtomes]

Did I turn Kith'rak Voss into the sickos meme? Yes, yes I did.

[inked-succubus]

“Wyll is straight coded”

The only straight thing about this man is how he straight up turned a githyanki cleric of Vlaakith into a stay at home dad.

[astralprisms]

conversations on becoming

[humonculuss]

I mean, we're going to go to the friggin' Creche

We're just not staying as long as you think we are

[thedragonagelesbian]

actually deeply enamored with the two of them running around the wilderness together, atz’s attitude essentially being ‘as far as i know i have existed for like two hours and you seem to know what the fuck is going on and i trust you to kill me before i kill you’

[grandmother-goblin]

The gang isn't vibing with the whole "steal a Githyank egg" thing.

Especially not Astarion.

[dough-bee]

"the moon will sing is such an astarion song" "the moon will sing is such a shadowheart song" WRONG IT'S ALL OF THEM.

there's astarion's being a vampire spawn and all he was forced to do. there's shadowheart's religious trauma. there's gale's abusive, groomed relationship with a goddess he can't escape. there's wyll's strained relationship with his father. there's how karlach was used as a soldier. there's lae'zel's upbringing, the githyanke culture moulding her into a war machine.

even tav can't stop all this by themself.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

COLLISION

Astarion x Y/N - Chapter 2 - 2.5K WC

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 (you are here!)

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 NSFW 18+

Chapter 6 NSFW 18+

Chapter 7 NSFW 18+

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Magic was tougher than it looked. It felt like the most grueling full body workout. “Well, you’ve got enough to get you through a very short… heavily aided battle.” Shadowheart said, it sounded like the best backhanded compliment. 

“Can we be done for the day?” You asked, cracking your neck and stretching your back. “Please?”

Gale smiled and waved you off, “Just for today, we’ll need you in battle soon enough. Best you have a few tricks up your sleeve to survive… A word of advice, seek out Lae’zel, have her show you combat training. The Githyanke are -”

“Excellent warriors, I know.” you stated without thinking.

Gale’s face faltered for a moment before relaxing “Precisely, she’s the best to learn from.” he clapped his hand on your shoulder before walking back to his tent.

Shadowheart was walking back to her tent but gave you a smile and mouthed “good luck” towards you. 

You took a deep breath and walked to Lae’zel’s tent. Feet practically made of lead the way the anxiety made them drag. You stopped in front of her not looking up.

“Speak” was all she said.

“I’d like to spar with you… have you teach me how to fight… so I’m not just a useless cleric.” Your lip twitched up at the end of your sentence. Finally raising your gaze, Lae’zel looked at you and crossed her arms. 

“Fine. I suppose you can use this.” She said handing you what you recognized as “The Cruel Sting” sword from the drider, Kar’niss. 

You clutched the sword and followed Lae’zel to the center of the camp where she unceremoniously body checked you, knocking you onto your back with a groan.

“The Hell was that for?!” you yelled at her.

“Your enemy will not fight fair, you need to know brutality if you wish to fight.” she said as she unsheathed her sword.

You stood and held your sword. Nothing had ever felt more out of place. This wasn't a Renaissance Festival, this was real and you had to learn this to survive. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and praying a collective prayer to any deity listening. You opened your eyes, the first strike of many clanged against your sword.

Shit.

________________________ 

Metal collides well past sundown. Lae’zel had run you ragged. You were currently trying to shove her back. She put her foot behind yours and shoved, sending you crashing onto your back.

“Have you learned nothing?!” she yelled so loudly everyone else in the camp was watching now. “Your enemy will not hesitate to kill you. You shall offer them no such mercy either!” she continued to yell.

That's it. That’s what broke the camel's back. Rage consumes you after being beaten down for hours. Your hand reached slowly for the small blade tucked into your breast pocket. Lae’zel put her sword to your neck to demand your surrender. You raised your hands. Lae’zel began putting her sword away and that's when you struck. You kicked her closest ankle and sent her falling. Dagger in your hand, you rolled on top of Lae’zel, straddling her hips and pressing the blade to her throat. She gawked at you, she was speechless. 

“Never assume the war is over because the battle was lost.” you said with hate in your voice but a proud smile on your face. 

Lae’zel gave the faintest smirk before taping the handle of the blade, signifying she surrendered. Both of you got up slowly. Lae’zel extended her arm. You stared at it in disbelief but your arm went to hers. Holding each other's forearms she shook it once firmly before saying, “Cleric, you may survive us yet.” she let go of your arm, walking to the bonfire as the meat roasting smelled as if it was almost done. 

Karlach walked over to you, “That’s as close as you’ll ever get to her saying you’re friends now.” she laughed. “You’ve improved a lot in one day. It’s going to be nice having you around soldier.” she patted your back before she herself walked to the campfire. 

You smiled watching her walk away. Glancing at Gale and Wyll they both gave you smiles, Gale giving a soft clap and Wyll a thumbs up. You walked back to your new tent that Karlach had set up for you while you were in the weave. It wrapped around the tree you slept on last night. A bedroll, some candles, and a small table with a lamp softly flickering. The flamed danced shadows across your tent, you laid on your bedroll momentarily, watching the shadows. Quickly, before you got too comfortable, you stood and began your walk to the stream. Your body ached but in a satisfactory way. Maybe you could be an adventurer. At least until you got back home. You shed your camp clothes at the shore, looking back and making sure everyone was at camp. You could hear them eating and telling stories  around the fire. You waded into the stream until it reached your ribs. You sat against a boulder in the stream. The water rushing around you felt calming, as if the water was trying to massage the ache out of you. You brushed water over your face and hair before leaning your head back and closing your eyes. Trying to connect to the earth around you, searching for a blissful escape in the elements even if only for a moment. 

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

Astarion watched you from behind a tree near the shore and his tent. He didn’t mean to spy on you. He honestly thought he saw a fae or siren wade into the water, your body enchanting him. He watched you wade to the boulder finding some sort of solace in it. You leaned there unmoving for what felt like hours. 

Sad

That's what rang out in Astarion’s mind. The tadpole saying what your mind must have been screaming. He felt that unfamiliar pang in his chest again. He wanted to… comfort you? He didn’t even know what that would look like. Was it like seduction just… less? He both wanted to know and despised the thought of knowing.

Without realizing it, he had drifted off and he refocused on your form trudging back to the shore. He knew what he had to do to get rid of the pang in his chest. Crush it. Crush you. The very thought hurt him somehow but he knew it had to be done. He walked out from behind the tree heading towards the shore. Your back was facing him, your shirt and underwear on but nothing else. He adored the way the moonlight made your shirt cast a shadow of your body. He noticed every curve, dimple, freckle… he noticed them all. 

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

“Oh! Astarion…” you jumped when you heard the rocks behind you shift. Your hands flew all over your body trying to cover up but not sure what exactly to cover. He grabbed your hip when you started to move backwards. You glanced at his hand before looking at his face, your eyebrows scrunched together. Astarion hadn’t exactly been the most welcoming in the camp so what was this? Hand still on your hip he possessively pulled you to his chest, his opposite hand tilting your chin up so your lips were a breath away from each other. Your whole body felt like cement and lava at the same time. Your eyes watched his every move. 

“A bath with no invite? Darling, you wound me.” he whispered onto your lips. You sucked in an unintentionally sharp breath when he leaned forwards and smashed his lips to yours. He was rough despite his gentle grasp on your chin. He continued to kiss you, nipping at your lower lip.

“Ouch!” you yipped, pushing his chest away. 

“Come now darling you cannot be so delicate…” he said seductively.

You backed up and held your arm out in front of you to put a physical barrier between you. “Astarion, stop.” You said as your finger smoothed over the nip on your lip that had drawn the smallest bit of blood. 

Now it was his turn to freeze, “What? Why? Is something wrong?” He asked. He almost sounded… annoyed? Instead of concern which you would expect from a lover. 

You knew enough about Astarion from your progress in Baldur's Gate III that he was trying to manipulate you by sleeping with you. It saddened you. He might not like you much in reality but you would still protect him like everyone else in your party. Your face gave a painful squeeze before you swallowed it all down. You put your arm down, picking up your pants, boots, and vest. “Astarion… you don’t truly want this. I’ll umm… I’ll see you at camp.” You whispered out. 

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

The world seemed to be so still and quiet down by the stream. Astarion heard every syllable. He watched you leave quickly and did he detect… a quiver in your voice? Why would you be upset about him trying to fuck you? Why did you say “you don’t truly want this”? He didn’t want it, but how did you know that? He walked back to his tent glumly. After seeing you take down Lae’zel he thought you might not be so bad to have under his thumb. Why would you reject him? He saw himself for the first time in 200 years that morning so he knew for a fact he was still beautiful, fangs and all. He wracked his brain but couldn’t come up with an answer to why his plan didn’t work on you. It works on everyone else. 

A bitter seed was planted inside him. He watched your form move around camp for the rest of the night. Eyes never meeting his. He watched you talk with the others. Sing with Wyll. attempt to dance with Karlach. Everyone wore soft smiles, even Lae’zel which was rare. A warmth was spread around the camp. As if the air was made of warm honey. Suffocating you in the best way possible. Rested and comfortable is what it was.

He wanted so desperately to be a part of it. And yet, that bitter seed took root and every thought of you suddenly felt like rot and decay. Finding the bad and none of the good. Making you the cause of such ire. He wanted to be rid of you. He thought of the item you had, the “mirror” he used. Had you told the others about that? What would they think of it? He could twist it to make you look like the villain, he was sure of it. 

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

“”Y/N darling…” 

Your head snapped to Astarion who had silently managed to sit across from you at the bonfire. Your head swirled a bit, whatever Karlach was drinking had some twang to it that's for sure. You were drunk and the warm glow of the fire made you feel like a cat in a sunbeam.

“Astarion darling…” you giggled back.

“Have you told our dear friends about your powerful little tool?” he batted his eyelashes at you but a devious smirk laid across his lips. 

Everyone's eyes slowly drifted to you and lord did you feel them on you.

“I… I showed Gale.” you rushed out. You weren’t hiding it. Not truly. You just didn’t know how to tell them what a phone was without having to tell them about your… well… life? And how to you, they were a mere video game. That they didn’t actually exist. That's a little tough to deliver. Especially while drunk. 

“Yes! She had me repower it.” Gale chimed in. 

“Oh it needs magic to power itself? Sounds dangerous if you ask me…” 

Now everyone's eyes were not only looking at you but focused on you, scanning you over for any potential danger. You slowly reached into your bedroll. Your phone lit up and everyone kept a strong hold on their weapons. 

“I… it is a power source… but it only powers itself. It’s not dangerous I swear…. It’s used to communicate where I’m from.” you quickly defended yourself.

“And where is that exactly?” Astarion hummed.

Your skin was crawling, you felt how unsteady your stomach was, a cold sweat coating your back, your hands shaking, and dear god you were fighting the urge to spill tears. All out of sheer anxiety. You didn’t want to lie, but you didn’t know how to tell the truth either. 

“I… I’m… not from here. Or Baldur’s Gate. Or Faerûn. I’m… I’m from somewhere far away. I’m not sure how to explain it.” you choked out. The tears slipped out but you quickly wiped them away and looked at your new friends, hoping they’d believe you but not push for more answers either. 

“How mysterious.” Astarion jested. “Care to show up what it does so we know it isn’t dangerous?” 

You looked down at the phone before looking at everyone around you. You had no idea if this would have some sort of butterfly effect or alter reality but you didn’t really care. These people were your best hope, you needed them and were in no position to test their patience. You looked down, defeated. You agreed, turning the phone on you opened the camera app. 

“I can use it to see people… and take portraits of them instantly.” you softly explained before taking a picture of yourself and then showing them all the picture. They looked impressed, borderline shocked. 

“Anything else?” Astarion asked, sounding unamused. 

You opened your music app and clicked on classical music, thinking that would be somewhat close to the music they know. Playing strauss II - voices of spring you turned the volume up and watched them become entranced. Karlach started swaying and humming with the melody. Everyone’s tense appearance faded and they all seemed pleased with the music. 

“Portrait machine and a music box, how delightful!” Gale spoke before drinking more wine. 

“If you all don’t mind I will retire early this evening.” you spoke softly as you got up and walked away leaving your phone as it began the classical music playlist you had saved for when you would study. Some of the group gave you nods, some were too deep in drink or conversation to notice. But Astarion did.

He saw how tightly you clasped your hands as you walked away. How your eyes were so big and full of fright. How your heartbeat sounded. Terrified.

Shit.

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

He watched you from his tent as you threw rocks from the river bank into the riverbed. He could still hear your heartbeat. How strained it sounded. Like it was fighting itself. He felt wretched. He was doing what he needed to. Right? Then why did it hurt so damn bad? Why did the way the tears skimmed down your face feel like a wound to his heart? Why did he want nothing more than to go to you and whisper sweet apologies. He hates you. He has to because it is the only control he can feel at this moment. So why does the final sob he hears escaping you on the shore bring him right back to where he doesn’t want to be. He digs in his supply pack before pulling out the vile of angelic slumber. If he couldn’t meditate this away he was not above drugging himself to sleep for the night. Anything to not feel what he felt when it came to you.

Hello angels! You all were so sweet leaving me comments, likes, and reblogs. Thank you soooooo much! All that support went into overdrive so here is chapter 2! I'll be working on other chapters this week. Thank you again for all the love, I love interacting with ya'll! <3

[toolateintheday]

WIP...Thursday

@grenanigans tagged me a few days ago (for WIP Wednesday) but I've been too busy/lazy to reply! Here's a little snippet from the next chapter of my new Shadowzel fic The Burden of Duty

“Speak for yourself, istik,” Lae’zel retorts. “No one attacks a Githyank warrior and gets away with it.”

Shadowheart scoffs. “And what are you going to do, exactly? Snore her to death?”

Lae’zel rounds on her, fists clenched, and Shadowheart at least has the good grace to look alarmed by the rage burning in her eyes. When she steps towards her, teeth bared, Shadowheart backs away, stumbling into a table.  

“Insult me again, half-elf, and I will-”

“Whoa!” Karlach quickly moves to stand between them. “Cool it, guys. The hag is the enemy here. Fighting each other is the last thing we should be doing.” She looks from Lae’zel to Shadowheart. “Shads, stop winding her up. And Lae, stop rising to it. We’re supposed to be a team.”

Hopefully I'll post chapter 2 next week. Tagging @scarywomenjoyer to see if they've got anything cooking and if anyone knows I_Can't_Do_Basic_Math from AO3 then please tag them as I can't find them and I love their Moonrise fic :(

[racheloleo]

Cave of Wonders

Zevlor x Tav, NSFW

Zevlor smiled to himself as he saw the others relax and enjoy their evenings. Alfira strummed idly, giggling with Lakrissa about their personal victories over the goblins and what kind of tale the bard should weave through song. Cal and Lia continued to rib Rolan, who had had perhaps too much wine and was ready to blast his siblings backward, if only to stop their hooting laughter. Bex and Danis snuggled by the fire, petting and whistling to the camp's canine companion, a scruffy white hound named Scratch.

The goblin threat had been eradicated, thanks to an intrepid band of heroic adventurers lead by a human woman names Tavalia. Gods knew there was no one else with the wherewithal to corral the rag-tag team: a Githyank warrior, The Blade of the Frontiers, a secretive cleric, a former archmage, a tiefling attack dog, and a foppish vampire. Zevlor shook his head; how she did it, he couldn't begin to fathom.

As the revelry continued, the tiefling commander took one last sip from his goblet before setting it down. He nodded in farewell to Halsin, the archdruid the adventurers had rescued from the goblin encampment, and made his way back towards the Emerald Grove, away from Tavalia's camp. Zevlor had a few more crates to finish packing before morning, and he could use a moment to himself after all of the noise and merriment of the evening's celebrations.

Zevlor quietly walked through the gate of the Grove and made his way through The Hollow towards the chambers that had been his during the refugees' stay. Rocks crunched under his boots as he strode confidently to his quarters. A few druids were up and about, but the place still felt strangely still after all the chanting had stopped. Kagha had been in league with the Shadow Druids, it had seemed, until Tavalia had talked some sense into her and the interim archdruid put an end to the Rite of Thorns.

He walked through the stone passageway, the door closing behind him. He replenished a few candles before carefully doffing his armor. Gods, but it felt good to have that weight off of his shoulders, literally and figuratively. He stretched and flexed his back, taking pleasure in the little pops and cracks that told the story of a loosening body.

Zevlor let out a soft groan. He found an empty crate and brought it to his desk, where he began to slowly and carefully pack away his many books for the next leg of their journey. The Shadow-Cursed Lands, gods, how was he ever going to -

A gentle rumble of the stone door marked the entry of another. Quickly and quietly, Zevlor set down the book he had been holding and reached for his crossbow, eyes on the entryway to his sanctum. He heard the stone door shut again, and a rustling sounds drew his attention. He deftly loaded the crossbow and positioned himself near an alcove, the perfect spot to lodge an attack should one also be aimed at him.

A shadow grew on the walls in the candlelight, soft and feminine.

"Zevlor?" A tremulous voice called out, the shadow edging closer to the commander's lair.

Zevlor almost dropped the crossbow. "Tavalia?" He asked, shocked and shaken, horrified that he could have so easily pulled the trigger against the hero of the hour had she not made her presence known.

"Yes, it's me. Did I startle you? And please, again, call me Tav. Everyone else does, there's no need to stand on ceremony." She walked slowly into the soft light of the numerous candles Zevlor had lit not but half an hour before.

She was nude, he saw, his mind not comprehending. Or, nearly nude, it appeared that she maintained some cover for the sake of modesty, but only around her hips; her breasts were bared to the world. No, not to the world: bared for him. He shook his head, still confused.

Tav's eyes adjusted to the lighting, scanning the room. When her gaze fell upon him, her lips curled into a smile that reached to her eyes, so happy was she to find him.

His body was in a state of panic, wanting to avert his gaze and drink her in all at once. Why was she here? And nearly naked? She didn't seem hurt or afraid, there should be no reason for this state of undress, unless -

The rustling. She had removed her garments after she had entered his quarters. The confidence made him wet his lips, blood pulsing in his face and below his belt. He could not deny that she was a beautiful woman, that he had not thought of what she might feel like in his arms, soft and warm and spent, but this...

She closed the gap between them, her hands alighting carefully on his shoulders. Her bare feet had been almost soundless in the dirt. She glanced up at him, eyes twinkling with the small flames that lined the room. Tav leaned into Zevlor, her mouth grazing his neck, as she whispered his name against his flesh. Small goose-pimples rose along the back of his neck.

His hands moved to her hips, and he felt them, full and round beneath his touch. Her skin was softer than he could have ever dreamed, and he was suddenly very aware of his talons, hard and sharp at the tips of his fingers. He made to move them away, but she caught him and held him to her. "No," she whispered gently, still nuzzling against his neck. "Please, stay with me. I have imagined this a thousand times, and yet nothing could compare to the here and now." The tip of her tongue delicately traced the muscles in his neck, and his breath caught in his throat.

"Tavalia, please, do not misunderstand me. You are a very beautiful woman, but I am nothing but an old, disgraced paladin. Surely there are others far more worthy to share your bed than the likes of me?"

She hummed quietly, her nose gently caressing the underside of his jaw, the hand that once held his now at his cheek. Her thumb carefully followed the ridge pattern of his cheekbone, and he could feel her smile against his skin.

"Says you," she murmured. "I can freely choose whom I have in my bed, yes, and I can confidently say that I have desired no one else since meeting you. You are strong, courageous, empathetic, and handsome. You have bewitched me, Hellrider, and I only hope that you will have me as well." The thought lingered in the air, both carefully waiting to see what the other would do.

Zevlor's heart was likely to fly out of his chest, and he had no doubt that Tavalia could feel that, just like she could no doubt feel his arousal pressed against her thigh. He sighed slowly, afraid he would not be able to follow through. He pulled his head back long enough to look at her beautiful, glowing eyes, before wrapping a hand behind her head and pulling her in for a deep, sensual kiss.

Tav brought her arms to Zevlor's neck and pressed herself into him. Her tongue darted out of her mouth and played with his bottom lip, which drove him into a deeper frenzy. Their mouths melded together, their sighs intertwined, breaths becoming one. Tav's hands moved to Zevlor's face, cradling his jaw as she drank him in.

His hands moved to her waist, and he began to carefully roll his fingers down the curve that flared into her hips and rounded, pert bottom. These undergarments would prove to be a future problem, and he pulled them down and off. He cupped her ass and lifted her up, leading her to straddle his waist with her thighs. She acquiesced, and linked her ankles together at the base of his tail. A jolt of electricity shot through him at this touch, and he moved his tail to encircle one of her calfs. Tav tightened her thighs against Zevlor's taut center, her sex wetting the front of trousers.

Her warmth spilled onto him, and he deepened his kiss. His tongue tentatively moved in askance against her lips before she opened her mouth and invited him in, sucking playfully. A low moan escaped his throat as he moved towards a wall and gently balanced Tavalia's back against the rough-hewn stone.

In one motion, he transferred her thighs from his midsection to his shoulders and fell to his knees. Tav's back scraped against the rock, but the sensation barely registered as Zevlor's breath hit the sensitive place at her center.

His hands gripping her hips, Zevlor gently nuzzled his nose into her soft, damp curls. Her breath hitched and her legs tightened in anticipation. His tongue flicked out cautiously, probing her slit to find the hard little bud tucked in between.

As he ran the flat of his tongue over her pleasure, Tav gasped with joy. He continued to lick and flick and tease, circling her nub until she was leaking with arousal and panting heavily.

Like a man starved, Zevlor continued to work his mouth against her sex. Slowly, he moved one finger to her entrance before working it inside. Tav cried out, her walls clamping down on his finger, which soon became two.

He stroked her carefully, beckoning her to come for him as he whispered sweet, loving words to her core. "My darling, let yourself go. I am here to catch you, and I would never let you fall too far."

At that, she felt the coils in her belly tighten before springing to a quick release. She cried out his name, sobbing, hands holding onto his horns, grasping to stay afloat. He held firm, his hands cupped around her bottom and lower back. Her thighs tensed so firmly around his face that he thought he was likely to be a dead man, but that there may be no better death in all of Faerûn.

He stood slowly, easing her into his arms, one arm under her knees, the other under her neck. She stared up at him, dazed.

"That's not what I came here to do," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I was meant to be worshipping at your altar, not you at mine."

"All in good time, my love," his whispered back, moving towards the various travel gear he had already packed.

"Do you think you can stand?" He asked, tentatively testing her weight on her feet. "Only for a moment, and only to make you more comfortable."

Tav nodded against his chest as he tipped her feet towards the ground. She stood on shaky legs, keeping one arm on his.

Zevlor unfurled a bedroll and straightened it out against the hard floor of the chamber. Carefully, he eased Tavalia to her back and onto the bedroll.

She sat, and began working at his shirt as he moved to sit next to her. Tugging, she pulled it free from the band of his pants and moved to pull it over his head. Zevlor stopped her.

"Please, if you don't mind. I am... I am not proud of what lies underneath, and I would not want to taint your memories of this evening with the view."

Tav looked hurt and startled. "Zevlor," she whispered, eyes large and round, "there is nothing about you, ever, that would make me turn away from you. Is it a scar? A burn?"

"My heritage," he mumbled, lifting the corner of his shirt. Underneath, Tav saw more of the infernal ridges, like the ones that marked his face and tail. Her eyes softened.

"Oh, Zevlor, no. Not in a hundred, thousand, thousand years would that ruin tonight. It doesn't ruin you, nor does it define you. Nothing about your infernal heritage alarms me, and I love you because of it, not in spite of it. My love, you are wholly beautiful to me, and I would see all of you as you have seen all of me. Besides, your heritage is as plain as your horns and tail. If that were ever to deter me, I would not be here now."

Gingerly, she helped him lift his shirt over his head, smiling briefly as the collar gets snagged on one of his horns. As he tosses the shirt to the side, Tav begins working on the laces to his pants. His arousal pushes against them, undeterred by these few moments of inaction.

Zevlor stands and finishes undoing the laces. His sex, hard and girthy, stands ready as he removes the pants and small clothes. He eases back to the bedroll where he is immediately met with a deep kiss as Tav climbs onto his thighs and straddles them.

His heat meets hers with a rush of sensation, both of them forgetting to breathe in that moment. Tav arches her back, grinding her center to his. He can feel her sex against him, still wet and inviting.

His tail wraps around one of her ankles, securing her. Her arms encircle his neck as she breathes into his ear. "Please," she begs, "please let me have you as you have had me." His hands move up her sides until they find her breasts, and he begins to massage them and gently pinch her nipples. He ducks his head to carefully pull one of her nipples into her mouth, where he gently licks and sucks until it becomes firm under his tongue.

"Dearest," he nuzzles against her neck, "if I allow that, then this night ends much too quickly for either of our likings. Besides, I do not deserve such attentions."

Tav snaps her head to face him, hips still grinding against his. "To the Hells, what do you mean! 'Deserve?' As if this is not an act of love, freely given? Lie down." Her grinding has stopped, and she lightly pushes him onto the bedroll before kissing and licking her way down his chest.

He has never been harder in his life than he is the moment she breathes against him. A liquid pearl sits at the tip of his member, and Tavalia is quick to duck her head and lick it off in one quick flash of her firm tongue. Zevlor moans, louder than he would have liked, but too ensorcelled by this beautiful creature to care.

As quickly as her tongue is there, it is gone again. Zevlor takes a moment of respite, the briefest of seconds, before his pleasure is deepened by the flat of a tongue on the underside of his member. A long, hot stroke goes up the shaft to the tip before Tav takes him into her mouth and begins working on sustaining his bliss.

He cannot think, he cannot breathe, he cannot remember his own name. He focuses on the wet heat that has engulfed him, that threatens to be his undoing. Tavalia licks and teases, suckles and massages at him until he finds himself on the edge.

Sensing the loss of control, Tav stops and pulls herself up to Zevlor's face, smashing her mouth into his with pure passion and possession. "Take me," she whispers to his lips. "Make me yours. There is nothing more I desire to be than yours."

Gently, he rotates her to her back and slides a knee between her legs. She opens easily for him, expectantly. "I would look upon your lovely face, my darling," Zevlor says, eyes full of love and lust. Tav nods and sighs, pressing her hips to his as she moves a hand down to guide him into the entrance of her core.

They both moan loudly as they become one. Zevlor thrusts slowly, cautiously, easing into her, that she may be able to take all of him. She is slick with her own love and has no trouble receiving all that he can give her.

She moves her hips in time with his, their tempos slowly increasing as their pleasure reaches a fever pitch. Tav takes his hand and wetly sucks his thumb before moving it between her legs. "Please, again, please," she whimpers, and he dutifully begins creating small circles around her hard, taut button.

A moan of pleasure escapes her lips, quickly turning into a scream of delight. He calls out as he finds his own release, pumping his spend into her until it trickles out from between them.

He watches her face and then pulls her in for a tender, delicate kiss. She returns, gently, sighing into his arms as they disentangle their legs and his tail.

They lie together on the bedroll, foreheads together, eyes heavy with love and sleep. Drowsily, Tav opens her eyes and stares up at Zevlor. A hand comes up, slow and soft, to stroke his cheek.

"We must depart in the morning. We have duties to fulfill, people who need us. But here and now, tonight, we have each other, and that is all I need." She kisses him tenderly, smiling into his lips.

"My darling, I could die now a happy man. I did not know that it would be possible for a man my age to find a love like this, so true, yet here I lie, you in my arms." He kisses her back, a strong, low purr beginning to emanate from his chest. "May your love and faith see me through the undoubtedly dark times ahead."

"And may we find each other once more in Baldur's Gate, with tasks complete and victories won, to begin a new journey, a quieter one, just the two of us."

They fall asleep, arm in arm and facing each other. Zevlor's tail drapes protectively around Tavalia's waist, and her soft snores lull him into a deeper peace than he has known in quite some time.

[orkbutch]

why do githyank have belly buttons. Do they??? Do they?????????

[cellphishthekaiju]

Crackpot Theorycrafting: Prince Orpheus is the son of Gith and Zerthimon

I know I'm quite 'late' putting this out but I needed to let it ruminate for a while longer. To preface, there's very little evidence in Baldur's Gate 3 and even Dungeons & Dragons lore, as a whole about who Orpheus's father/sire was... so this theory is almost entirely conjecture and brainrot.

Don't take it as anything solid, this is just the ramblings of a lunatic with nothing better to do with her time.

Also, (obvious) spoiler warning cause it mainly uses stuff from Baldur's Gate 3's story. Most information is sourced from The Forgotten Realms wiki as it's the most 'decent' source of D&D info for me to find relatively quickly and be accurate.

Anyway, on with the show.

Baldur's Gate 3 establishes some 'certain' things about Orpheus's connection and role within the githyanki lore (and D&D lore) as it is nowadays.

For those who are not in the know, the 'gith' were a slave race to the Illithid Empire but thanks to the strength and collaboration of Gith, Zerthimon and Vlaakith, they fought and gained their independence and brought the Illithid Empire to its knees but were soon wrecked by a civil war, called the Proclamation of Two Skies, that tore the gith race into two distinct factions/culture; the Githyanki (gith who followed Gith and Vlaakith) and the Githzerai (gith who followed Zerthimon).

The first time you meet Orpheus, some interesting things are immediately noticeable about him, starting with the gith himself(ignoring the infernal chains, that's a different story). Orpheus exhibits attire, body art, and a beard that is characteristic of the Githzerai and even his in-game class is that of a Monk (as well as his honor guard). What's this have to do with his relation to Zerthimon?

Githyanki don't look and dress like this and, to be honest, Orpheus's whole 'drip' looks more like Githzerai 5e art than Githyank art.

However, Orpheus identifies himself, quite confidently, as a Githyanki (and BG3 gives further 'evidence' of this through some of the endings, when he departs on a red dragon), so I suspect he never actually spent time with the Githzerai yet has chosen to embody the philosophies of an important role model... which had to be Zerthimon, before the civil war. Very flimsy proof of fatherhood, I know, but it makes sense in my deranged mind.

But Lae'zel says githyanki reproduce asexually. Sure... as far as she knows. We have no real 'facts' if the information Lae'zel was taught (all controlled by Vlaakith, mind you) was right, wrong, or only partially correct. Perhaps they can but if that was their 'primary' form of reproduction, I feel like the githyanki would be nowhere near as diverse-looking people as we see them... but that's just applying logic for the sake of my own headcanon.

Anyway, given that we have no real confirmation of event timelines, I also assume Vlaakith I is the one who imprisoned Orpheus in the Astral Prism after he rebelled against her in retaliation for trading Gith to Tiamat. (a slate inside the prism itself states Vlaakith I was the one who commissioned it's construction and, assumedly, the shackles as well, given their infernal design), which would suggest Orpheus was around/existed before or during the civil war, at least. There's not reason I can think of Vlaakith, any of the Vlaakith's would permit him to persist to threaten her reign plus his useful ability served her greatly.

Well, I hope ya'll enjoyed my insane rambling. If you'd like more, just let me know. I'm always open to suggestions (doesn't even have to be BG3 related).

[wisterias-in-bloom]

Seraph snuggles up to giant tiffling woman... And surprise Githyanke.

Lae'zel sits up, her back against the wall as she cradles the two of them in her lap. Karlach on the other hand is focused on holding Seraph, her warm body shielding him from the cold. "Comfortable?" She asks as she leans back, resting her head on Zel's chest.

[des-no9]

Sincere question: for your githyanki presentation, are you using any published D&D sources (monster manuals etc) or going purely off of fandom headcanons?

Published sources of course? It's introducing people to githyank who don't know them. And a basic 101. I will however as stated be doing this from a mostly 5e and BG3 verse. All depends how much I can fit in the limited time.

I'm making it a fun-never-to-happen-scenario aka "you've been isekaid". If there's any HCs added I will make a note that they're not official, as always.

Also, it's all just for fun.

[deaths]

i made a githyank i think would be cute for my romance with wyll but then my game crashed SAD! she is a monk noble she is very cute. im still piecing together what story i want her to have but i think shes good aligned for sure.