#self-indulgent wyll content

[carryoncastiel]

What am I to you?

[dreamingcricket]

politely requesting either halsin or astarion with a tav/reader who like..shrugs off their advances bc they don’t think someone like either of them would take interest in them. like very oblivious to the fact that people actually like them. (totally not self indulgent lmao) ((i love mutual pining to lovers i-))

CW: Mild sexual content, reader is injured

Astarion has started to question whether this is your way of gently rebuffing him, or you're actually this dense.

He's not a subtle flirt. He uses all his most seasoned tricks, exhausts every overture he can think of. He can't remember wanting anyone this much. And yet, every one of his suggestive quips is laughed off.

He's there in the morning, sliding in beside you as you drink your tea. "Good morning, beautiful. You're looking absolutely radiant today." He runs a finger down your arm. When you blush and smile back, something warms in the pit of his stomach.

He's there as you put on your armour. "Allow me, dove." And as he tightens the straps on your mantle, he lets his fingers brush the underside of your jaw. "There. Just right." He purrs into your ear.

And of course, when he feeds. He takes his time, pulling you close, cradling your head, running his fingers through your hair. He nuzzles into your neck before he bites, pressing his lips against your rabbiting pulse for just a moment longer than he should.

Even in battle, when he's swiftly at your back, flashing you brilliant smiles as he races to your defense, you jovially thank him, like you do all your companions. Like he's your friend. Just your friend.

All efforts so far, completely ignored.

So now he watches you from across camp, the firelight dancing across your features as you laugh (he tries to ignore the tender stirring in his chest at the sound).

He throws back his glass of wine, and grimaces at the pitying glances of his compatriots. Of course it was obvious to anyone except you.

You stood, bid Wyll and Karlach goodnight, but instead of disappearing into your tent, you vanished into the brush.

Astarion sat for a long moment. He should let you go. You clearly weren't interested, and he should just... move on. Like he always had.

Who are you kidding, you fool?

He didn't care that he startled Gale with his speed and he pursued you into the woods.

You were seated on a rock, your face turned up toward a shaft of moonlight, eyes closed. He stopped to admire you.

"Sorry I took off. I just wanted to enjoy the quiet."

"I'll go, if you want me to."

You start, and turn towards his voice. "Astarion, didn't expect you."

"Were you expecting someone?"

"No... just-

He's suddenly surging forward without thought, and the two of you are rolling across the grass.

"Astarion, what the fu-"

He silences you with a burning kiss, brimming with anger and desperation. You roll him onto his back, furiously returning his advance. "What-" you pant between kisses. "-took you so long, idiot."

He's furiously tugging at your linen shirt, baring your back and shoulders. You'd be angry if you weren't still reeling.

"You never flirted back!" He pins you down, only to find his hips locked between your legs.

"I flirt constantly, Astarion! You drink my blood every night! I've been waiting for you to take the next step for weeks!" Now it's you tearing at his shirt, your hands groping for purchase on his shoulders. "I thought you didn't think of me like that." Now it's your lips against his neck, and he chokes on a moan.

"That's not flirting!" He's never been this heated during sex. He's a collected lover, and for all the inherent violence of his existence, he realizes - he wants to be gentle. At least this time.

He takes your hands in his and stills your thrashing. You lock eyes, both of you out of breath, chests heaving. He places a single, gentle kiss to the palm of your hand. "Shall we begin again, love?"

"I'd like that."

"My name's Astarion. You are a truly stunning creature," he leans down, and whispers to you, "... and I'd very much like to make love to you tonight."

Halsin thinks you are quite possibly the most extraordinary person he's ever met.

 

He can't erase the image of you the first time he saw you from his mind, eyes ablaze, arcane power crackling at your fingertips. 

He's had so many partners, but all of his love affairs were brief, transient. Deep, but nothing had ever moved him like this. Typically, Halsin is straightforward with his feelings. His passing dalliances with fellow druids and traveling rangers had never daunted him. But with you, making his feelings known was... complicated.

You'd been through a significant trauma, and while you put on a quite the brave face, ever the intrepid leader, he's been around long enough to see your fragility. You'd seen so many horrors in such a short amount of time. Emotions were running high, he wouldn't risk coming on too strong.

So instead... he brought you gifts. It was a very natural way to court someone, at least. Baskets of berries, a fresh catch from the river, perhaps they're gifts to his own taste, but he hopes you'll enjoy them.

He offered to braid your hair, to help ease the tension in your shoulders with a massage in the evenings (his hands are absolutely enormous, which certainly helps). 

And, unbeknownst to the rest of the camp, and to his mild shame, he couldn't help but rub his scent near your tent. He wouldn't invade your boundaries and touch your things, but he couldn't help his instincts. Lae'zel noticed at last, but only scoffed and offhandedly remarked, "The way you dance around your affections is pathetic. Tell them, or stop simpering."

Things eventually came to a head when you were injured, badly. The arrow tore through your side, and you hit the ground before you could register you'd been shot, the world became pain and a blur of color and noise. 

Halsin was by your side in a heartbeat, shielding you with his frame as spells and arrows flew overhead.

"Don't move little one, you're losing blood." He sounded calm, but there was a tremor in his voice. You'd never seen him afraid before.

"Halsin..."

"Shh, shh. Hold still." His magic flows through you, and the muscles in your side knit back together as he pulls the arrow free.

"Halsin." Your hand lifted to weakly brush his cheek. Your vision was swimming. 

The thunderous roar of battle magic echoed nearby. Gale rushed towards you. "Are they alright?"

"They will be." Halsin spoke it like an oath. "But they're weak." 

"We'll finish this, get them to safety!"

Halsin cradled your body to his chest and barreled off the battlefield. You drifted in and out of consciousness, but were always aware of his arms around you. They felt like safety. Like home.

The druid ducks behind a half destroyed wall, and begins to reassess your wound. "Gods, you frightened me." He lays you down carefully, head in his lap, and begins to clean the wound. 

You smile up at him. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me."

"I like this."

He's puzzled. "Being horribly injured?"

"Being held by you." 

At that moment, your body finally gave out, and your vision went black. 

When you woke, bandaged and sore, in your tent, Halsin was sitting by your bedroll with his back to you. Recalling in horror the confession you'd made, you try to pretend you were still asleep. 

"I know you're awake, little one." 

You sigh. "I'm... about what I said, I'm sorry. I know you don't feel that way, and-" 

"Stop." He turned and placed a finger against your lips. "No more words." 

You braced for his rejection. At least the druid was kind, empathetic. Or perhaps his pity would make it worse. 

His lips coming down on yours were not what you expected. He was gentle, and smelled of moss and pretrichor, dark soil and sweat. You kissed him back, laughing into his mouth. 

He pulls away, then presses his forehead to yours. "I'm here. As long as you'll have me." 

"Oh, I intend to." Your attempt to sit up is hampered by a shock of pain from your wound. "Ow. Shit."

Halsin guides you back down to your pillows. "All in good time, little one."

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Happy Birthday

Just a really self-indulgent fic for my bday. And yes I am going to spend my entire birthday on bg3 trying to romance this fictional vampire.

Summary: Astarion struggles to come up with a gift for you birthday.

Astarion knew your birthday was coming up, but he didn’t know what to get you. What did you want that you already didn’t have? You already seemed rather content with whatever you had, and you barely glanced at trinkets in the markets, content with whatever loot you found during the journey. He was at quite the loss for in the romance books he had read, flowers, jewellery, perfume had been the typical gifts given and yet you had never quite been inclined towards such things.

“Astarion? Is something wrong?”

He blinks, startled and realises that you’re standing right in front of him.

“Oh, it’s nothing darling, don’t you worry,” he smiles, gently cupping your cheek. He presses a kiss to your forehead, thumb gliding over your skin. You frown but don’t press the matter further. If he was comfortable with telling you about it, he would share it with you. You weren’t going to make him uncomfortable by forcing him to tell you what was on his mind.

“Just…know that you can tell me anything, alright?” You ask worriedly, giving his hand a squeeze. He nods, lifting your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles. You smile, pulling him in for a hug and he nuzzles you in return, happy about the small act of love.

“I’ll see you later tonight,” you lean in for a kiss on the lips before quickly pulling away to head off with Wyll to scout the area ahead. He watches you go, an imprint of your warmth lingering on his skin and heads back inside his tent, trying to ignore the way his undead heart pounds against his chest, words stuck in his throat.

He spends the next few days wracking his brain on what to get you for your birthday while taking out his frustrations on the poor goblins the party encountered along the way until one day, he found something that had caught your attention. Of all things, it had to be some mediocre cloak.

“What’s so interesting about that…thing?” Astarion frowns. “I could purchase a cloak made with far better quality elsewhere.”

“But it’s handmade! It’s a product of someone’s hard work, time, effort and heart! How could you not appreciate it!” You huff, handing over the gold to the grateful merchant and hug the cloak close to your chest, smiling brightly. Astarion rolls his eyes and pulls you along before you can spend more gold on ‘mediocre items’, but this encounter has given him an idea of what to gift you for your birthday.

The moment the two of you reach camp, he slips into his tent and sneaks out the sewing kit he has stashed away in the deepest depths. A number of items he can sew for you run through his mind, but the one thing that nags away at his mind is a scarf. It has not escaped his notice how you often shiver on chilly nights, brushing it off whenever Karlach confronts you about it. He never misses how you jump whenever he touches your bare skin on such nights before giving him a reassuring smile and leaning into the touch despite the chill.

So he begins sewing a scarf, weaving it together with fabrics of your favourite colours whenever the party decides to set up camp for the night.

You raise an eyebrow when Astarion hastily disappears into his tent without even saying a word to you for the third night in a row, wondering what is going on. The first two nights you let the issue slide, thinking that he just needed some space to process whatever was going on in his head, but this was the third night and it was getting worrying.

Making your way to his tent, you pause outside the flap, wondering if by doing this you’re intruding on his privacy but decide you’d rather risk getting yelled at for sticking your nose into his business than let his potentially dark thoughts consume him.

“Astarion? I’m coming in!” You call before lifting up the tent flap, hearing a small commotion as you step in but are only greeted with the sight of Astarion holding a book, sitting on his bedroll with a smile.

“Hello, dearest.” He’s sitting rather stiffly for someone who ‘has been reading for the past however long’, stirring suspicion within you but you pretend that you haven’t noticed anything, hoping that you can coax whatever it was out of him.

“You haven’t been feeding lately.” You start off with a simple comment to lower his guard.

“There are plenty of bears around these woods, darling, don’t you worry.”

“I thought you said bear blood isn’t as tasty as mine?”

“You have been rather busy as of late, darling. I didn’t want to tire you further.”

“You’re the one who has been rather busy as of late, disappearing into your tent immediately after we set up camp.” You point out, arms folded across your chest. “Is there something that’s bothering you?”

“No?” He blinks, “I’ve just been rather engrossed in this book as of late.”

“So engrossed that you can’t even set aside some time to spend with me?”

Oh. He screwed up.

“I didn’t mean to —”

“Am I really less interesting than a book?”

“Of course not!” Astarion shifts anxiously. Was he going to lose whatever was going on between the both of you? He hadn’t thought about how his fixation on getting that scarf sewn on time for your birthday would affect you, the message his actions would send you, and how…all he wanted was to make you happy.

Your gaze softens and you apologise for being so harsh with him, which he automatically brushes off with a fake smile and a laugh, saying that it was alright but you could tell you had set something off in the deep recesses of his mind.

“Astarion.” You say gently.

“Yes darling?”

“Please tell me if I’ve hurt you. I never intend to, but I need to know if I have so that I won’t repeat it again,” you plead, worry gnawing at your insides. What if his guard was back up, leaving him alone with his own mind that tore him apart? What if he was pushing you away, you couldn’t imagine a life without him in every facet of it. What if he had grown tired of you, or worse, afraid of you? You didn’t want to lose the bond so painstakingly forged and greatly cherished, the very thought that he would leave scared you far more than anything in the world.

“It’s not that!” He quickly stands to his feet, swiftly closing the distance and wraps his arms around you tightly. “It’s…nothing, I promise. Don’t leave me.”

He whispers the last part but you catch it anyways. Burying your face into his chest, you wrap your arms around him as well, breathing in his scent.

“I won’t ever leave you, you’re my star, I’m lost without you.”

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second and a wide smile graces his face, a smile you cannot see and he doesn’t want you to see. A giddy feeling bubbles within his chest, he had never thought he would ever find anyone who would love him, and yet here he was, standing in the arms of someone who considered him their everything.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, the half-sewn scarf left forgotten. He would much rather spend the rest of the night with you, in your embrace and so he does, happily purring away when you massage his scalp and pressing as many kisses as he possibly can to your face.

Your worries are washed away when you see him relax like this, slipping into a trance whilst he’s curled up against you. Maybe you were worried about nothing after all. You run your fingers through his soft silvery curls, humming a lullaby you remember from your childhood as you feel sleep claim you and you drift off soon after, burning the image of a trancing Astarion into your mind.

You and Astarion fall into a routine in the following days where he would spend the first half of the night alone in his tent, doing whatever secret private thing he was doing and then he would move over to your tent for the remainder of the night, spending it either cuddling or reading with you. It was an agreement the both of you were satisfied with, and the whole party was relieved that the tension had faded. Bit by bit Astarion inched closer towards a finished scarf, and the night before your birthday, he finally had the complete product.

“Finally!” He groaned, collapsing onto his bedroll. It wasn’t the best scarf he’d ever seen, but it was decent enough, at least for his standards. Then the doubt started creeping in. Would you like it? Would you wear it? What if all the effort he had put into making the scarf was for naught? But then he remembers how until now, you’ve been wearing that mediocre cloak you had bought because it was handmade and it reassures him a little. He wouldn’t know how you felt about his scarf until he gifted it to you.

When the sun rose on your big day, Astarion waited until the others had said their well wishes and given you their gifts before approaching you.

“Y/N.” He says.

“Yes, Star?” You tilt your head in confusion. He rarely called you by your name, and when he did it was usually a serious matter.

“Happy birthday,” he says quickly, embarrassed as he thrusts a neatly wrapped package into your arms.

You beam, eagerly tearing it open and gasp when you see what lies inside.

“A scarf! I’ve been meaning to get one!” You cheer. “Thank you, Star! Really!”

His heart warms at your words, his lips curling up slightly as he watches you struggle to put it on.

“Would you like some help with that, my love?” He reaches over anyways, untangling you from the fabric and expertly wraps it around your neck before finishing it with a peck to your fore head. “There, done.”

You happily twirl around, playing with the ends of your scarf and giggle, throwing yourself at the vampire.

“Thank you so much!”

“Anytime, love.”

“Where did you buy this from?” You ask, happily burying your face into the soft fabric.

“I…I made it myself,” he mumbles, twiddling his fingers.

“You did? It must have taken so long to make this! That makes it even more precious!” You hug him tightly.

“I’m glad you like it,” he kisses the top of your head, all worry long washed away.

“Of couse I do. Anything you give me, I like it.” You grin up at him. “Now, can we spend the rest of the day together?”

“I would like nothing more, my love.”

[sleepingdeath-light]

wyll ravenguard smut hcs ; 18+

requested by ; mod / self indulgent

fandom(s) ; baldur’s gate 3

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; wyll ravenguard

outline ; “wyll smut headcanons”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, praise kink, body worship, oral sex (reader receiving), overstimulation

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

if you were to try and fit wyll into a box then perhaps the best fitting label would be ‘soft dominant’ — he’s sweet, affectionate, and likes to be able to take his time with you (to make love to you rather than just fuck you), but he’s also very thorough when it comes to the use of safe words/actions and aftercare even when it comes to the most vanilla and safe acts the two of you engage in together

he loves to praise you and when you’re making love he rarely goes longer than a few seconds at a time without whispering some earnest compliment, flustering comment, or sweetly teasing remark against your lips (or whatever part of your body he happens to be kissing at the time) — combine all of that with the fact that he treats your body with the sort of reverence most would save for tending to their god’s shrines and you’re left with less than no room to doubt his genuine love for you or his attraction and fondness for your body

he loves going down on you and can go for as long as you let him, and he’s always so very tender and loving when he does it: encouraging you to rest your thighs on his shoulders and wrapping his strong arms around your middle to keep you secure, letting his hands wander to gently and slowly massage your thighs and stomach and sides, breaking away every so often to pepper kisses along your inner thighs, whispering soft praise against your skin before taking you back into his mouth, giving it his all and deeply moaning whenever you let your self control slip and tug on his hair or buck your hips up into your mouth, using his intimate knowledge of you and your body to coaxe you through orgasm after orgasm until you’re completely out of breath, your voice is too hoarse to speak a single word, and you can barely even remember your own name

wyll much prefers to have sex in positions that allow him to freely see your face and kiss you during the act as he values romance and intimacy over sexual experimentation and carnal pleasure — his go-to is, naturally, standard missionary but he can be convinced to branch out as long as that criteria is still met

he’s naturally more of a top and is much more comfortable and confident in himself when he’s fulfilling that role, but if you’re sweet enough about it then you may just be able to convince him to get beneath you on occasion — of course when he’s bottoming he’s much more timid and uncertain about himself, but wyll still does whatever he can to prioritise you and your pleasure even as he’s trying his best not to whimper through his words

he has a definite playful streak when it comes to your relationship and this definitely comes out a lot in the bedroom — he’ll lovingly tease you here and there, do little things that he knows will leave you either outright flustered or talkative enough to match his energy, but it’s all in good fun and you both know that he can never deny you what you want for too long and he’ll inevitably end up giving in before too long as passed (i.e. he’d much sooner praise and worship you than tease and deny)

wyll is decently vocal in the bedroom (as mentioned above he’s very liberal when it comes to showering you with praise), but when he gets close to climax he becomes less and less coherent — he’s more the sort who groans and moans between gritted teeth or against your skin when he’s kissing you, but if you push him far enough you may just get to hear your beloved ‘blade of frontiers’ whimper out something that sounds vaguely like your name amongst a string of cusses

he’s the absolute king of aftercare and he will not even consider taking a moment to catch his breath and relax until he’s absolutely certain that you’re completely and utterly taken care of — yes this also applies when he’s the one who’s looking (and feeling) more worse for wear out of the two of you, he’s that stubborn and selfless

wyll does lean more towards the ‘vanilla’ side of things, but he is up for experimenting with different kinks here and there so long as there’s no risk of either of you getting hurt — so, for example, while he may be up for trying out something like bondage or blindfolds or chastity, anything along the lines of knife play, impact play, or other forms of pain play are completely off of the table with him

once you two settle into your new lives in baldur’s gate, he finds that he loves how you look with his clothes on, but if you happen to surprise him by wearing some lingerie that you bought underneath one of his unbuttoned nightshirts then you’re pretty much guaranteed to leave poor wyll completely speechless and unable to think of anything other than ravishing you until sunrise

[its-jaytothemee]

Gentle Hands

Pairing: Halsin x Astarion x Tav (OC:Tavara), Astarion POV

Word Count: 7,411, One Shot

Rating: Explicit, MDNI

Read on AO3

Summary: Astarion returns to camp after a long day in Baldur's Gate and Tavara is nowhere to be found. He finds her and Halsin together relaxing by the river and has to decide whether or not he should tell them how he feels. This takes place shortly after Astarion resists ascension and after a couple of other bloody battles. Astarion POV, lots of explicit content at the end. Approx 7.4k word count. Enjoy!

Tags: Fluff and Smut, Light Jealousy, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex (m receiving), gentle kissing, Spawn!Astarion, Lots of comforting.

Author's Note: This is an extremely self indulgent fluff that turns into smut piece. This is my first go at writing anything sexually explicit and I'm pretty happy with the result! I love getting feedback if you have any, but please be kind!

The sun was still blazing in the sky when their party wearily made their way back to their camp. This had been a tough day, some of the Flaming Fist were still pursuing them and all four of them had been beaten to the hells and back by some Sahuagin that ambushed them around the harbor. Rather than push their luck with running into any more trouble, they had decided to call it early for the day. Karlach and Shadowheart made their way towards the fire pit, and Wyll opted to go directly to his tent. As Astarion made his way through the now familiar camp outside of Rivington, he noticed Tavara was nowhere to be found. Today was one of the rare days that she had actually agreed to stay behind in camp. Yesterday was the day that they had found and infiltrated the Iron Throne as well as the Steel Watch Foundry. The fight at the Foundry took a bad turn when they ran into the monstrous Steel Watch Titan. Tavara had landed numerous blows against the construct but was overrun by other Steel Watchers. The others managed to take down the Titan, but Tavara was lost. Karlach and Halsin had to drag her body out with them as they ran from the exploding foundry. That was the first time they had lost Tavara in a battle. Even though they have more revivify scrolls than they would likely ever need, and Withers always available in camp, Astarion vividly remembered the absolute fear and anguish of watching her fall and holding her lifeless body in his arms.

              When they woke today, Astarion and Shadowheart had insisted Tavara stay behind and recover. To their surprise, she agreed to stay and get some rest while they scouted out some other leads in the city. Halsin volunteered to stay with her as well to check over any leftover wounds. The two of them had really become inseparable over the past few days. Astarion’s chest tightened with a wave of jealousy. Not jealous of the two of them together, but jealous of how easily it came to them. Tavara always made time for both of them somehow, but it was clear to see that the relationship with Halsin came much more naturally.

              Fucking wood elves. He thought to himself. He made his way to his tent and removed his bloodied armor. His left shoulder protested in pain at the gesture. After changing into some cleaner clothes, he made his way past the camp into the nearby tree line. There was a small stretch of the river that ran near their camp where Tav liked to relax and he figured he could find her there. As he made his way through the shrubs, he reflected on the events of the past few days, it was almost too much to process. Not 5 days ago they succeeded in finally killing Cazador; his revenge that he had dreamed about for 200 years was finally realized. Tavara stopped him from making a terrible mistake that day. Standing in Cazador’s dungeon, he realized that all of the power in the world was nothing compared to the love and compassion she had shown him in their short time together. He truly wanted to live a life where she could be proud to be with him, where they could be equals.

Then, there was their experience with the drow. He had been eager to jump in and join both Tavara and Halsin. He really thought that once Cazador was gone, once his influence was no longer a fear to hold him back, that his arousals and sexual appetite would return without a problem. It was more of a hope than anything. Yet as badly as he wanted it, he found himself oddly numb during their encounter. There he was with four other devastatingly beautiful elves, and it still didn’t feel right. While the drow were obviously experienced in the art of pleasure, they were rather rough and detached, which he supposed should be expected of the escorts. As badly as he wanted to share in Tavara’s heart, perhaps jumping straight into an orgy with two strange drow wasn’t the proper approach to restarting his erotic endeavors. But perhaps starting with two people who he trusted…

              The sound of familiar laughter startled him out of his thoughts. Instinctively, he crouched behind a bush to hide the sound of his approach. As he peered around the leaves, he saw Tavara standing in the shallow water of the river bank with Halsin sitting in front of her. They were both in their underwear and Astarion spotted the rest of their clothes folded on a rock nearby. Both of them had their hair loosely falling around their shoulders rather than their normal tied up styles. He thought about making himself known, but something stopped him. The two wood elves had made it more than clear that he was always welcome to join them in anything, although he had never really taken them up on their offer until the drow came into play. Watching them now, Astarion suddenly felt an overwhelming sadness. They looked so…happy. Happy…an emotion that was truly new to him, one that he hadn’t experienced in over two centuries before meeting his new traveling companions. Even then, it took days before he could feel comfortable enough to identify the feeling, and even more days still before he could admit it to another conscious soul. But Halsin and Tavara…they were happy the moment they were together. There was no suspicion, no manipulating, they simply trusted each other and for some reason, they trusted him as well. It wasn’t fair. He was never afforded the luxury of trusting those around him, yet it came as easily as breathing for the two of them.

He continued to observe the pair from his hiding spot. Tavara was running a wooden comb and her fingers through Halsin’s hair. He watched as the druid leaned blissfully back against her legs, a small smile creeping across his face. She leaned over and gently kissed the top of his forehead, wearing a smile to match. Tossing the comb onto the soft ground near the river, Tavara started weaving small braid’s into Halsin’s hair. Her hands were so delicate and gentle, it was hard to think that those same hands were capable of wielding a greatsword that could cleanly cleave a goblin in two. Astarion couldn’t remember the last time he saw her looking so relaxed. The jealousy washed over him again, this time stinging his eyes with tears. Was she unhappy while she was with him? At least compared to her time with Halsin? He shook away the thoughts. She had shown him time and time again how much he meant to her, why was he doubting her feelings now? After all, he was the one who constantly pushed her away. Another sweet laugh from Tavara brought him back. He realized that he was spying on the person he claimed to love during a particularly intimate moment and the jealousy was quickly replaced by guilt. He thought about turning around and going back to camp to rest after the long day. He glanced over his shoulder, and then back to Tavara and Halsin.

No. He thought to himself. No more pushing people away. He felt his breath quicken, and suddenly he felt as if his legs would give out from underneath him. He slowly stood up and walked into the clearing. So many thoughts raced through his head. What if they wanted to be alone and he was intruding? What if Tavara went away from camp to have time away from him? What if she was having second thoughts about their relationship? As his mind wandered to every negative thought, he stopped watching his steps and ended up snapping a particularly loud twig. Both Tavara and Halsin’s heads snapped towards him.

He winced, but all worry immediately melted away when Tavara spotted him. Her face lit up and she gave him a huge smile. All of the tension left his body, and he somehow managed to smile back at her.

“Astarion!” She called towards him and immediately started making her way to the shore, Halsin standing up behind her to wave at him. Tavara bounded right over to Astarion and gave him a quick, soft kiss.

“You’re back much earlier than I expected. I was hoping to be back in camp waiting for you when you returned.” Her hand lightly caressed a small scratch along his neck. The touch sent a shiver down his spine.

“Yes, well we ran into some unexpected trouble down by the docks.” He gently took her hand and lightly kissed the palm, earning him another dazzling smile from her. Halsin had made his way back to the shore as well and was obviously looking Astarion over for any other injuries.

“Is everyone all right, love?” Tavara was still holding his hand.

“Oh of course, darling, everyone’s fine, just a little bruised. We simply decided not to push our luck any further today.” Astarion shifted nervously in the soft sand beneath his feet.

“What is it?” Tavara gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and smiled gently at him. Astarion’s eyes darted between her and Halsin, he was unsure of what to say next or how to approach them. This whole situation was so new to him, but he wanted to get better. He wanted to be with Tavara, that was obvious. What he had realized now, is that he wanted to be with Halsin too. 

“I just…erm…well…” Astarion’s throat was suddenly very dry. “I hope I’m not interrupting…I just…”

“Nonsense! I was just making sure our sweet Tav here isn’t still suffering from her mortal wounds from yesterday.” Halsin called from the boulder where they had left their clothes and a small blanket.

“Ah, well…that’s good of you.” Astarion continued to shift nervously. The druid’s large, gleaming muscles were rather distracting, not to mention the large bulge in the front of his underwear. He brought his gaze back to Tavara.

“You’re always welcome with us, Astarion.” Tavara responded softly, still smiling sweetly.

“Would you prefer time for just the two of you?” Halsin asked, his friendly smile still shining on his face. “I could head back to camp if you wish.”

“No!” Astarion blurted out quickly, startling both of them. “I mean…erm…” Tavara was staring at him with a worried look. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

“Actually Tav,” he said nervously, “I uh, I wondered if I might join the two of you.” He suddenly felt embarrassed and looked towards the ground. Every muscle in his body was tensed. He trusted Tavara, loved her even but there was always the doubt in the back of his mind. It was always telling him that eventually they would betray him. But after Cazador, he vowed that he would stop letting that fear control him. He would say what he wanted, when he wanted it and he would make his feelings known even if it caused him pain. Because it was his pain now. Not pain inflicted by a cruel master for his sick entertainment, but the pain of living. The type of pain that let him know that he was still alive…well, in some sense of the word.  A soft touch on his cheek interrupted his thoughts and he looked back up into Tavara’s piercing, green eyes and found her smiling back at him. She looked over her shoulder and beckoned Halsin closer.

“You…you called me Tav.”

“That’s your name, darling.”

“No, Astarion, that’s my nickname. You said you never used nicknames.”

“Well,” he started, as Halsin sauntered over to them, “there’s a first time for everything.” Tav smiled in response and took both of his hands in hers.

“You’re sure this is what you want? I would love for us to all be together my love, but I want it to be because you truly want it. After our time with the drow, I thought…”

“The drow ordeal was…overwhelming.” Astarion interrupted. “I thought my desires would return as soon as Cazador was dead but…” he trailed off. He felt another pair of hands wrap around his own and Tav’s. Halsin’s large, lightly calloused hands easily enveloped both of theirs.

“Astarion, you were held captive, tortured, and used for Cazador’s cruel amusement for two hundred years.” Halsin responded gently. “He excruciatingly carved the words of your own destruction into your back for the purpose of giving him more power. You were forced to lure hundreds of people to their deaths. The guilt and pain and disgust you feel, that takes time to heal, my friend.”

Astarion felt hot tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. He braced himself for the rejection. He waited to hear Halsin and Tav tell him that he just wasn’t ready to be with both of them. He waited for that decision to be made for him once again. As he opened his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by Tav’s arms tenderly sliding around his waist, and Halsin’s wrapping around his shoulders. Before he had a chance to realize what was happening, he found himself practically smothered between the two of them in a hug.

“We can help you with that, if you’ll allow us.” Halsin whispered to him.

Uncertain at first, he stiffened. This wasn’t the reaction he expected. Tav must have felt him tense, since she started to pull back. He responded by grabbing her waist and pulling her back into a crushing embrace. He buried his head into her neck and hair. Halsin drew them both closer to his chest. His deep, slow breaths were calming. The three of them stood there for what seemed like an eternity. Tav and Halsin both held him in place, gently stroking his hair and the scars along his back. Eventually, he pulled away as Tav wiped a tear from his face.

“So…” Astarion started, “What were you two doing before I so rudely interrupted?”

“Just taking the time to have a proper bath.” Halsin responded. “I think we can all agree that Tavara desperately needed one.” She stuck her tongue out at him in response.

“Well then, let us continue.” As Astarion finished talking, he took a deep breath and reached down to remove his shirt. He winced with pain, forgetting about the blow he took to his left shoulder earlier today. Tav quickly untangled the shirt from his arm and pulled it over his head.

“Come with me, love. We’ll take care of that shoulder.” She took his hand and led him closer to the water. Astarion placed his shirt with the rest of their clothes and glanced down at his pants.

“I’ll be right there, darling.” He reached down to undo the laces, his hands now feeling stiff from the day’s fights. Suddenly, he saw a flash of movement next to him and Tav was whisked off of her feet into Halsin’s arms.

“Enough is enough, my heart.” His voice was light and cheerful. “You’ve stalled for quite a long time.” Tav kicked and laughed in his arms.

“No! Put me down! I have my hair just as messy as I like it!” Tav protested.

“Yes, and it’s also still covered in blood and oil from the foundry.” Halsin countered.

“Exactly! Just as I like it!” Tav yelled, still laughing. Halsin kept moving out further into the river until the water was waist deep for him. Tav’s protests became louder and faster as Halsin swung her slightly to the side and then tossed her into the water in front of him with a squeal. The sound brought a smile to Astarion’s face.

“Astarion! Quickly, bring me the soap hidden under my shirt.” Halsin yelled back at him. Meanwhile, Tav resurfaced and was laughing and wiping the water from her eyes. Astarion kicked his pants the rest of the way off and found a small bar of soap tangled in Halsin’s clothes.

“Hold her legs, druid. She’s quite the kicker.” Tav continued to laugh and yell in protest but seemed happy enough to let Halsin hold her in his lap. He moved them to slightly more shallow water so they could all sit comfortably. Handing over the bar of soap, Astarion walked around to sit in front of them. Tav sat in Halsin’s lap, facing away from him while he rubbed the bar of soap on to her head. Her fake cries of protest quieted quickly as he worked his hands through her hair. He was right…it was desperately in need of a wash. Astarion reached out underwater and laced his fingers with hers. Halsin slid out from behind her to stand, so she worked her way over to sit on Astarion instead. She put some of the soap on her hands and slowly cleaned the shallow cuts he was sporting along his neck and chest. After a few minutes, Halsin helped her rinse the soap from her long hair restoring it back to it’s beautiful red color. Astarion gently tucked a loose piece behind her ear.

“I hardly ever get to see you with your hair down, darling.” Astarion said softly.

“I don’t like having to re-braid it too often. The braids are more practical for fighting but a pain in the arse to do every day.” She leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder, he winced. “Shit…sorry about that. Halsin?”

Halsin was already making his way behind Astarion. He kneeled down behind him and his hand hovered over the shoulder.

“May I?” He asked leaning forward. Astarion nodded in response. He felt the familiar warmth of Halsin’s healing magic spread over his upper body. It soothed the pain away, and Astarion felt the exhaustion of the day’s fights fade away with it. He took a deep breath and leaned back into Halsin’s chest. Tav followed suit and rested her head on Astarion’s good shoulder, her right hand resting on his chest, and her left arm wrapped around him to rest on Halsin’s leg. Astarion concentrated on the sound of their breathing and the warmth of both of their bodies pressed against him.

“That should do it.” Halsin said gently, lifting his hand. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the shoulder he just healed.

“Thank you.” Astarion responded, still leaning back against the large elf. Halsin sat back down in the shallow water and gingerly moved his arm around Astarion’s waist. He pulled him closer and Astarion felt him kiss Tav’s forehead. They sat there in silence for a moment. Astarion slowly traced light circles on Tav’s back and Halsin’s leg, eliciting soft sighs from each of them. After a few more moments, he finally broke the silence.

“How do you two do it?” He asked softly.

“Do what?” Tav murmured into his shoulder.

“How do you trust so easily? How do you joke and laugh and act so…vulnerable with each other?” He felt both of them squeeze him just a little tighter.

“Like I said,” Halsin began, “it takes time.” Astarion sighed in response.

“It helps to have other people who understand.” Tav added. Astarion sighed again.

“I don’t think anyone else here can truly understand.” He responded. Halsin moved his hands up and rubbed Astarion’s shoulders while Tav sat up so she could look into his eyes.

“We may not understand exactly what you went through my love, but we both know something about healing after someone breaks you. Nothing we endured compares to 200 years of torture it’s true…” She trailed off. “But we do know what it’s like to be broken. We were just lucky enough for it to be much quicker.” She cupped his face in her hands. “No one deserves to be treated the way Cazador treated you. You’ll never fully forget it, but you can move past it, I promise you that. We’re going to help you.” She smiled encouragingly at him.

He wanted so desperately to believe her, but the ever present doubt in his mind prevented that. He sat there for another moment, enjoying the feeling of Halsin’s strong hands gliding over his skin. Tav was still holding his face and staring at him intently. Gods her eyes are beautiful in this light. He decided to change the subject for now.

“You know Tav, if you don’t want to braid your hair I could always do it.” He said, causing her to drop her hands.

“You can?” She asked.

“Of course my sweet, I’m really quite good at it. Just because I can’t see my own hair doesn’t mean I never learned how to style it for others.” He smiled at her.

“I think I’d like that.” She smiled back. He stood up slowly and walked over to the shore where she had thrown the wooden comb earlier. He grabbed the small tool and walked back over to Tav and Halsin.

“Turn around darling, I’m sure I can tame this tressym nest before the sun sets.” He teased. She smiled and turned around, moving all of her hair behind her for him to reach.

He knelt behind her and started carefully running the comb through her hair. Halsin looked on, smiling at them softly. Tav stretched her arms out in an inviting manner, convincing Halsin to come sit between her legs and lay against her chest. She held him gently, stroking his hair and face lovingly. Astarion continued combing until he was confident there were no more snags. He divided her hair into sections to start working on the braids. Every time his fingers moved across her scalp, Tav would let out a happy sigh. It was a lovely sound that made his chest feel warm. She closed her eyes and leaned back into him, which made it a little hard to work with her hair. He didn’t mind though, seeing her relax into him was more intoxicating than the wyvern whiskey she favored. He took every opportunity to let his fingers brush against her neck and shoulders just to see the shivers run across her skin. He would lean forward now and again to kiss her head or shoulders causing her to smile or giggle. Every now and then he would hear the sound of a soft kiss from Halsin against her lips or chest. She handed Astarion the ties she had wrapped around her arms for holding her hair in place. He was able to twist the braids together to keep them off of her neck, he knew she didn’t like her hair to get in the way when she was fighting.

“There we are my dear, and with plenty of time to spare.” Astarion said softly, patting the braids and admiring his work. The sun was just starting to set over the horizon. She reached up with one hand to inspect the braids and smiled.

“Thanks, love.” She said, leaning her head back to look up at him. He responded with a soft kiss on her lips and felt her smile underneath it. Halsin looked up slowly, almost as if he had drifted off into a trance.

“Should we head back to camp?” She asked, still leaning against him.

“Not yet, I don’t…” Astarion trailed off. “I don’t wish to leave just yet.” He settled back into the water behind her. She leaned further into him, still holding Halsin in her arms. Astarion wrapped his arms around her to hold one of her hands, his other hand finding Halsin’s. He held on to both of them as if they were the last piece of debris to float on after a shipwreck.

“Could I perhaps stay with the two of you tonight?” His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“Of course you can.” Tav responded, her smile widening. She turned so she could look up at him.

“Nothing would make me happier, Astarion.” Halsin added.

Astarion felt himself smile like a fool. He leaned over to Tav and kissed her, softly at first and then with more urgency. He felt her tongue slide softly over his lips, and his breath caught. She pulled away with another quick peck on his cheek. He took another deep breath.

“I’m ready.” He said. “I want this, I want all of this. I want all of you.” With that, both Halsin and Tav stood up. They each offered their hands to help him up, which he accepted. Each of them placed a soft kiss on either side of his face. The sun was nearly set now, so they made their way back to the pile of clothes and prepared to return to camp. As they walked back, Astarion told them about the day they had in the city, how the ambush nearly killed Wyll and some other civilians. He of course had to add some flourishes to his heroic deeds in battle which earned him some gratuitous coos from Tav. Halsin assured them both that he would help check over any injuries from the day. Astarion walked between the two of them the entire way, occasionally holding a hand, or stealing a kiss as they walked. But more than anything, he was thinking about the rest of the night and what other excitement it may hold.

As they approached the camp, the familiar smell of the campfire wafted past them. No doubt Gale had found a way to make something incredible out of the absolute mess of items they scavenge during the day. Most everyone had already taken their usual spots around the camp. Shadowheart, Wyll, and Karlach laughing at everything Minsc said. Gale and Yenna discussing the proper cooking temperature for meaty versus vegetable stews, Gale pretending to not know the answer so Yenna gets to correct him. Lae’zel and Jaheira sitting just far away to avoid excess conversation, but close enough to eavesdrop. Astarion went with Tav to sit by the fire, while Halsin decided to make the rounds to check any injuries. The rest of the evening was the usual light conversation devolving into arm wrestling matches when the extra bottles of wine came out. Astarion never participated but did love watching Tav win most of the time, although tonight she seemed more content to just watch.

One by one, his travelling companions retired to their tents. Halsin was one of the first to excuse himself, smiling at Tav and Astarion knowingly before he left. Finally, it was just Astarion and Tav with the remaining embers of the fire still barely burning in front of them. He stood up and offered his hand to her.

“Shall we, my dear?” Astarion asked with a smile.

“Lead the way.” She replied and took his hand. They walked hand in hand over to Halsin’s tent. She tapped on the walls of the tent gently before parting the entrance. Astarion followed her inside. Halsin was sitting on his bedroll, with his pipe in one hand and a book in the other. He smiled up at them as they entered, setting his pipe to the side. The sweet smell of his tobacco circled the air of the tent. Tav went over and gave him a soft kiss before picking up his pipe and taking a drag. Halsin held out a hand, inviting Astarion to come and sit with them. He happily accepted and sat on the soft bedroll in front of them.

“So Astarion,” Tavara began, blowing puffs of smoke from her lips, “what would you like to do tonight?” The smoke from the pipe was barely obscuring her devilish grin. He moved forward and placed his hands on her thighs before kissing her deeply. He heard a light chuckle from Halsin. After a moment, Tav pulled away with a smile.

“Oh, looking for a little fun, are we?” She teased.

“If a night of passion is our definition of fun, then that is absolutely what I’m looking for.” He whispered back. With that, he suddenly felt Halsin’s large hands working their way into his shirt. They softly glided up and down the length of his back, pulling his shirt off a little bit more each time until it was off and thrown to the other side of the tent. Astarion turned to face him. There was an intensity in his eyes that Astarion hadn’t seen before, and it caused his breath to catch. He reached up to touch Halsin’s face, working his hands up into the druid’s hair. He felt the small braids that Tav had weaved into it earlier and he reached up to the small bun that was holding half of his hair and pulled it out. Halsin’s hair fell softly around his face. He heard a small sigh from Tav at the sight.

Gods he’s handsome. Astarion thought to himself.

He heard a rustling sound behind him, and turned to see that Tav had removed her shirt, exposing her bare chest. He took a moment to look over her half naked form. Her breasts moved slightly with each breath, the familiar scars across her arms caught the dim light in the tent. Her stomach was delightfully curvy and soft. She moved her hands to caress his chest and leaned in to kiss him softly. Behind him, Halsin started kissing along his shoulders and neck, all while his hands continued to learn every line and groove of Astarion’s back. He felt Tav reach around him to tug at Halsin’s shirt. As he pulled the garment off, Astarion slowly moved his hands toward Tav’s pants, gently pulling at them. She returned the gesture, allowing her fingers to ever so slightly graze his growing cock. He felt a shiver shoot down his legs and let out a soft moan against her lips.

“Mmm…you make such lovely sounds, Astarion.” Halsin growled into his neck. As Tav continued teasing him with the lightest touches in his most sensitive places, Astarion reached behind to lightly caress Halsin’s thighs. His touches were rewarded with another growling moan against his back.

“You don’t sound so bad yourself, druid.” Astarion briefly parted from Tav’s lips to whisper back. He continued lightly tracing the stitching of Halsin’s pants, mirroring Tav’s teasing touches on him. As she expertly worked the lacing of his pants down, Astarion let his hands wander to Tav’s breasts. He lightly cupped each one and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples. They hardened under his light touch causing Tav to let out a small whimper into his mouth. She broke away and started kissing down his cheeks to his neck while continuing to tug his pants down towards his ankles. Halsin reached over to help pull Tav’s further down as Astarion kicked his free of his legs.

“I can’t help but notice you’re a little bit behind, love.” Tav gestured to Halsin’s pants still fastened tight against his hips.

“All in good time, my heart.” His breath was hot and sweet against Astarion’s neck. He moved to the other side to pull Tav into a kiss over his shoulder. Astarion took the opportunity to turn around and straddle him.

“Hopefully you won’t mind if I hurry it along.” Astarion whispered into Halsin’s ear. His hands eagerly pulled at the druid’s pants, desperately searching the unfamiliar clothing for any clasps or laces. Halsin gently placed his hands over Astarion’s, slowing his frantic tugging. He guided his hands to the thin laces holding his pants before bringing his hands up to hold Astarion’s face. His intense gaze distracted Astarion from Tav’s hands making their way up his thighs.

“We have all the time in the world, my love. Let us take care of you tonight.” Halsin said, his voice as soft as silk. He leaned in and kissed Astarion deeply. His hands fell to the side as he melted into the kiss. Tav continued caressing every exposed inch of his skin, kissing up and down his neck, eventually making it to his ears. She kissed a spot at the tip of his ear that sent a wave of pleasure down his neck. Halsin chuckled against his lips.

“Ah, we elves do have sensitive ears, don’t we?” Halsin said as he moved to kiss Astarion’s other ear. Another moan escaped from his lips as Halsin nibbled lightly at the bottom. Tav reached over to finish unlacing Halsin’s pants while Astarion was lost in their soft kisses. As Halsin pulled the rest of his clothing off, Astarion felt his cock press against his thigh. It was warm and hard, he could feel the small pulses making their way down its length.

“Come here, love.” Tav whispered. Astarion broke away from Halsin to turn around and face her. She pulled him close and continued kissing him. Her tongue slowly made its way across his lips and playfully swirled around his. She moved her hands down his torso softly tracing the scars found all over his body and eventually making her way to the top of his underwear. Her fingers teased the fabric away from his body, slowly making their way further down. He drew in a sharp breath as her fingers just barely grazed down the length of his shaft, still pulling at his last bit of clothing. Tav pulled back ever so slightly.

“Are you alright, Astarion?” She asked softly.

“Oh yes, darling. You’re just such a tease.” He answered with a smile.

“If you think I’m a tease, wait until Halsin has his way with you.” She purred into his ear, switching to Elvish. The sound of her soft tone caused him to whimper with delight. He always loved it when she spoke to him in Elvish. She kept circling her hand around under the fabric, never quite fully touching his shaft. Astarion started bucking his hips up instinctively, silently begging for her to take him in her hands. He reached one hand up to Tav’s waist, digging his hands into her soft, warm skin. His other hand reached to the side and gripped Halsin’s thigh.

“Does she not have the loveliest voice?” Halsin replied, also switching to Elvish. He could feel Halsin getting harder and harder against his back now. He was grinding against him slowly, sending even more pulses down his shaft all the while covering Astarion’s neck with small kisses and very soft bites.

Tav gave in and ripped the last bit of clothing from his body. Astarion’s breathing quickened as she ran her hands up his thighs finally making their way to wrap around his cock. He let out a quiet sigh of relieved pleasure as she worked her hand up and down slowly and he reached out to drag her face back to his for another passionate kiss. Halsin continued to whisper sweet nothings in Elvish, his deep voice sending shivers through Astarion’s body. Halsin told him over and over how beautiful he was, how perfectly sweet he tasted, how lovely his moans sounded every time Tav hit just the right spot at his tip, how well he handled her incessant teasing, how exceptionally happy he was to hold him tonight. Astarion melted into the large elf’s embrace, begging to hear more in his low, beautiful voice.

“Oh, I could go on all night. But I think I shall have to take a break as my tongue will soon be needed elsewhere.” Halsin gave one more quick peck against his ear before moving one of his hands over Tav’s, falling into her slow, gliding rhythm. Astarion let out another gasp of pleasure at the added warmth of his hand and threw his head back into Halsin’s shoulder. His desire was burning hot in his chest, he slowly reached behind himself to wrap his hands around Halsin. He only got a few strokes in before he moved out from behind Astarion to kneel between his legs, but he was at least rewarded with a few moans from him first. Tav slowly moved to the side to allow Halsin to fully face him. She went to take a place behind Astarion, but Halsin grabbed her first and pulled her into a deep and sloppy kiss. All the while, his hand never left Astarion, continuing to slide up and down, up and down…

“Gods above…” the words left his mouth involuntarily as he felt his body building up for release. He placed his hand over Halsin’s, trying to get him to move faster but he simply broke away from his kiss with Tav to give a teasing smile.

“Oh Halsin…I think he wants you to finish him.” She practically sang the words.

“Please…” Astarion’s voice was rasping, begging for him to fuck him into the void. Instead, the druid’s hands and movements slowed and slowed until he was simply resting his hand at his base.

“Is…is everything alright?” Astarion looked up to ask, out of breath.

“Oh, everything is perfect. I’m just not done with you yet.” Halsin’s primal, growling tone was almost enough to send him over the edge. His sharp gaze made Astarion’s arms feel weak and he was lucky that Tav had moved behind him or he may have fallen flat to the ground. Halsin waited for a couple of minutes to touch him again, except for the deep kiss Astarion pulled him into. His breathing slowed, his hips still ached with desire but he could feel himself backing away from the edge.

It was Tav’s turn to whisper little praises into his ear. She told him all of her favorite parts of him, his hair, his ears, his hands, his lips. She whispered little details of their first night together, reminding him of how she fell for him, every moan from him reminded her of another night where he made the same delicious sounds for her. Her sickly sweet voice brought forth another involuntary moan, which caused Halsin to smile against his lips. He slowly pulled back and gave Astarion a quick wink before starting to kiss his way down his body.

He started with a couple of kisses on his chin and jaw, slow and deliberate followed by a very quick succession of kisses down his neck. His hands working in the opposite direction, starting at his thighs and massaging their way up to his chest. He kept his lips moving down Astarion’s torso. Leaving a trail of wet kisses all over his chest and stomach. As he moved towards his legs, his kisses became slower and longer, much more taunting and deliberate. Astarion felt his body shiver under the touch, causing Tav to chuckle into his neck.

“I told you so.” She whispered, her lips still making their way around his neck.

“I heard that.” Halsin grumbled into Astarion’s inner thigh. The vibrations sent another shiver through his body.

“Use his hair, love. He won’t be able to resist you.” She lowered her voice even more, trying to keep Halsin from hearing.

Astarion slowly worked his hands into Halsin’s hair. Gently stroking his scalp and twirling his fingers among the strands. He felt Halsin tense a little under his touch. The druid looked up from his tortuous kissing with a mischievous smile, causing Tav to giggle. Astarion lightly bunched a wad of hair in his hand and pulled on it gently. Halsin let out a gasp that made him smile.

“That’s it,” Tav continued whispering in Elvish, “just like that.” She was moving her hands all over his body, putting pressure on tight muscles and light touches in his ticklish spots. He relaxed back into her body, allowing her to soothe his overworked muscles while Halsin labored over his lower body.

“Don’t stop…” His voice was barely a whisper. There were no other thoughts in his brain except the intense pleasure he felt at the sweet, gentle touches from his two lovers.

He continued working his hand through Halsin’s hair, earning him more moans and gasps. He grasped Tav’s leg with his free hand, desperate to touch more of her. Suddenly, Halsin grabbed his legs and started bringing them up to rest on his broad shoulders. He lowered himself down, Astarion’s calves resting over his shoulders onto his back. Slowly, he took Astarion into his mouth causing a much louder moan that was interrupted by a kiss from Tav.

“Careful lovey, you don’t want to wake everyone in camp up do you?” Tav whispered, her voice low and sultry.

“I see now why Halsin’s tent is much further away from the others.” He managed to gasp out in response. He felt Halsin chuckle against him, the vibrations driving him mad. His hand grabbed at the druid’s loose hair flowing around his legs, desperately encouraging Halsin to keep his rhythm. His hips instinctively grinding up to meet Halsin, whose tongue was tracing all kind of patterns into his shaft. Every now and then, he would pause at the tip and lightly suck it until Astarion thought he would scream. Just as he thought he couldn’t take anymore, Halsin paused to plant more kisses all around Astarion’s stomach and legs. Instead of going back down on him though, he slowly crawled up to softly kiss Astarion on the lips, his hands making his way into the white curls around his neck. As they sat there, kissing and taking ragged, gasping breaths, Tav’s hands made their way back down to his cock, squeezing lightly at the base and lightening her grip as she made her way up to the tip. Astarion cried out again, he was so close. His entire body craved the sweet release they were teasing from him.

“Oh please…darling please…” Astarion begged between kisses, his legs were starting to shake.

And that was it. Her hand worked its way up and down much faster this time. Halsin’s tongue dove into his mouth, constantly seeking his own while his hand reached down to work with Tav’s. Astarion’s hips moved up and down in unison with their strokes, the friction from both of their hands and his own motion bringing him closer to the edge.

“It’s alright my love,” Tav whispered, once again switching back to Elvish, “we want you to feel good. We want you to let go.” Her soft words were his undoing. He grabbed Halsin and pulled him closer, digging his hands into his muscular back. Astarion broke away from his kisses and buried his face in the druid’s neck. He couldn’t hold on any longer. He cried out in ecstasy, the sound slightly muffled by Halsin’s neck. He felt the warm fluid escape from him and run over their hands. They slowed their strokes, pulling every last drop from him and causing a few more whimpers to escape from his lips.

They sat together, still tangled in their embrace for another few minutes, the only sounds were the heavy breaths between the three of them. As they pulled apart, Halsin stood up and went over to the other side of the tent where he had some cloth for them to clean up. Both Tav and Halsin cleaned their hands and Astarion, slowly bringing his heart rate back down to normal. Tav pressed her forehead to Astarion’s, and Halsin pulled them both into an embrace against his chest. Not a word was said between them as Halsin slowly pulled them down onto the bedroll. He kept Astarion held to his chest as Tavara wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. She pressed a kiss into his shoulder and nuzzled her face into his neck. Halsin placed his lips against Astarion’s forehead, tangling his hand in the curls of his hair. Tav drifted off into her meditation first, still holding onto him tightly with her body pressed against his. Halsin took a little longer, slowly stroking Astarion’s hair and leaving small kisses along his face, but eventually joined Tav. Astarion forced himself to stay awake for just a little longer, trying to enjoy every sensation rolling over him. The warmth of their bodies against his, the lingering feeling of their kisses and touches. Tonight he felt loved, and free. Both Halsin and Tav lavished their love upon him without expecting anything in return. For the first time that he could remember, he was able to fall into a meditation free of nightmares. Held between Halsin and Tav’s warm and comforting embrace, he finally felt safe. He finally felt truly happy.

[aeona-ao3]

A Wayward Blade

⚔️ Wyll x 🩸 Astarion Slow Burn / Eventual Smut / Hurt/Comfort

⚠️ Content Warnings Implied / Referenced SA, Implied / Referenced SI

Summary

In the aftermath of the nautiloid crash, Wyll falls prey to the easiest trick in the book like some naive tourist, marking him as an easy target for the vampire spawn freshly freed from his master's command. Astarion latches onto the man's heroic tendencies; it's easy to pretend he needs saving. Of course, Astarion is only pretending. Right?

A mostly canon-compliant fic that follows the scaffolding of canon events in the frame of "Wyll as Player Character", using canon events to guide the overarching plot but focusing very primarily on building these two's relationship around it.

You can expect:

Sinfully intimate and erotic bloodletting

Angst, heartbreak, and some good ole Astarion manipulation to hide his trauma

Hopeless romantic Wyll saving anyone he feels needs saving

A slow, intimate burn towards some self-indulgent smut

Read on AO3

[dustdeepsea]

7 and 12 for Nine Lives 🙏

I'm answering asks from this list!

Thank you for asking! ❤️ prepare for overshare...

7. What inspired the idea for the plot?

I wrote an entirely self-indulgent Rugan/Tav fic, after finding cut content that wouldn't stop itching at my mind. After getting some truly heartwarming feedback to it, I decided to write an even more self-indulgent sequel.

Even when I write in second person, I think it's important to map out the POV person's mindset and motivations (their appearance can be filled in by the reader). I shared this last night on Tav's profile, and I will reproduce it here:

Tav's fatal flaw is that they are fatalistic and have a latent deathwish, which is balanced by their sense of duty and morals. In BG3, they realise they have an important mission to complete, but would also gladly annihilate themselves in the process. In this way, Tav is ironically extremely selfish.

This manifests as them taking on far more than they can handle constantly, while trying to be stoic about it. Yes, we’ll save your sister. Yes, we’ll find the missing Archdruid. Yes, we’ll lift the ancient Shadow Curse. Yes, I’ll do every terrible, mundane thing you ask of me, including dragging everyone along on a mission to save the world.

I wanted to explore the fallout from this (and of course, help them get laid again!!)

12. Was there a scene you wished you could have included? Why didn't it fit in?

While planning the fic, I presented to my beta-reader @littleplasticrat the fevered options of "life-affirming PWP sex on the Elfsong rooftop" or... a much longer fic where Tav ends up working for the Guild on Wyll and Jaheira's behalf while the Gate rebuilds, and gets tossed into a working relationship with Rugan. That entailed mapping out what choices Tav makes, which companions are still alive, what the Emperor is doing (and brainstorming a possible hook back to the Knights of the Shield). Also why would a level 12 hero of the realm be travelling with a level 4 smuggler? Much plot needed to be plotted, post-haste.

She kindly pointed out to me that I should write what I can sensibly manage, so I split the difference.

Nine Lives is pretty much Porn with Minimal Plot, but the ending is left hopeful and open to explore all these future adventures. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out!

And of course, after all that plotting, Tav turned from a reader-insert into a proper OC :)

[foxflowering]

to be quite honest most of the "tropes" u employ in 'a meal can be made' r soooo not my taste in fic (like,, astarion's og family, marriage, etc) but ur interpretation of these characters/what makes them tick is so consistent and strong i came away rly loving it.

thank you so much! honestly, now that i think about it, i'm pretty picky about those tropes/plot elements too -- especially anything involving astarion's OG family. i find uber-speculative stuff like that to be pretty self-indulgent and oversentimental. (i mean, i say that... and yet, i ended up writing the most self-indulgent and sentimental take of them all. my mind is a labyrinth!) actually, i would've liked to address the topic of marriage with more nuance. that's one major regret/missed opportunity. in particular, it would've been nice to really go in on wyll's obsession with marriage, which is actually quite pathetic and unsexy and childish, in my opinion -- but very sympathetic. i think it stems from his fear of abandonment, which is about 10% maternal and 90% paternal. (nice going, ulder.) in the original version of the argument they have at the end of chapter 3, astarion was going to lambast wyll for his marriage-mindedness. i don't remember it exactly, but the line was something like: "you think if we go up in front of a judge and sign a piece of paper, it'll mean i can never leave you. but i can, wyll, whenever i want to. and wasn't that the entire point?" even though astarion is 100% correct -- ultimately, i just found this line of attack too cruel, so i omitted it. besides, the story was already wayyyy longer than i'd anticipated, it didn't need any more subthemes.

ultimately, i like the ending i came up with -- even if the story now skews more uncritically pro-marriage than intended. but i'll sleep content at night knowing their marriage will be hard and weird and complicated as hell, as they continue to be hard and weird and complicated people.

thanks for your comment!

[thebawdybaldurian]

BG3FicFeb Day 9

SFW: Tav meets the Loviatar priest and helps him demonstrate some of his tools in front of her companions and a few eager goblins.

NSFW: A young Tav enjoys some time in the park with a new love, ending up streaking and getting arrested by the local magistrate, narrowly avoiding meeting her eventual husband.

SFW: Meeting Abdirak, the Loviatar priest in the goblin camp

Content Warning: Impact play, light sadomasochism. This is still slightly NSFW....

As the adventurers wandered around the inner halls of the Selunite Temple, now home to a horde of goblins, they began to hear a strange thumping sound followed by a muffled cry. It wasn’t regular, but it was persistent. As they drew closer, a goblin stumbled out of a nearby room, clutching its backside. Tav almost dared not to look, but peeked inside to see a man kneeling in a sort of prayer. The heels of his leather boots had spur-like attachments that dug into his flesh as he sat on his heels. “Come in, please,” the man somehow noticed her lingering in the door. “I can see you are curious.” He stood up, the wounds from the spurs visible through his dark robes. His back was scarred from self-flagellation.

“What's a Priest of Loviatar doing here, of all places?” Tav tried to hide a smirk as her companions joined her in the doorway.

“You are familiar with my Goddess?” The man asked.

“When I was younger, I did the rounds as a devotee to her, Sune, and Sharess, while getting to know myself again,” Tav replied as Astarion looked at her curiously. She’d mentioned her time devoted to Sune, but never the other Goddesses.

“And what did you discover about yourself?” The priest asked, slowly approaching her.

“That pain is alright, but I much prefer pleasure,” she answered, hearing Astarion make a quiet noise in his throat.

“Interesting,” the man smiled. “My name is Abdirak,” he extended a scarred hand. “And you are?”

“Tav,” she allowed him to take her hand, which he examined.

“Hmmm,” he looked it over carefully. “Calluses on your fingertips, but the body of a dancer. You may embrace pleasure, but you still suffer for your art, do you not bard?”

“I suppose do.”

“Would you perhaps, indulge me for a moment? The goblins in this camp have little concept of the delicate balance of pain and pleasure. I’d love to offer them a demonstration. Torture need not end in blood and death.”

“And…you’d like me to participate?”

He nodded with a smile.

“What exactly do you have in mind? Whipping me?” She looked over at the unrolled satchel of whips, floggers, paddles, and other torture implements.

“Whichever you prefer,” he turned his gaze to the satchel as well. “Nothing that breaks that beautiful skin, I imagine.”

“Indeed,” Tav made a closer inspection of the implements.

“I will leave you to make your choice and bring the goblins in for the demonstration.”

He left the room with a nod as the others stood silently in the back. “You’re not really considering doing this?” Gale finally asked as Tav began to the test the weight of a flogger and paddle.

“I sure hope so,” Astarion grinned widely. “Both excellent choices, dear.”

“I feel as if we should step out then,” Gale blushed.

“I know I am staying,” Shadowheart smirked.

“Same here,” Karlach picked up one of the whips. “Nice.”

“I’m curious how much you can take,” Lae’zel’s expression remained neutral.

Only Gale and Wyll decided to step out, the others huddled together where they could get the best view. Abdirak returned with several of the goblins, who all snickered nervously when they saw Tav holding her chosen paddle. “You have chosen?” He took the paddle she’d chosen from her hands.

“Position yourself however you wish.”

Tav leaned over the small stone dais in the middle of the room, resting on her elbows, her ass pushed out towards the group of observers. “I can’t believe she’s doing it,” Karlach whispered quietly with glee. The priest began a short speech about how pleasure and pain can be one and the same or some such thing. Tav had already heard it all before and was eager to get the actual demonstration underway.

“Are you ready, Tav?” He asked, the paddle poised a ways from her backside.

“Absolutely,” she wiggled her ass a little.

He brought the paddle against her ass with a hard smack, the wood impacting her leather trousers. She let out a little yelp, but it had been a pretty tame hit. “More?” He asked, wishing she’d made noise.

“Oh, have we started?” She challenged him, glancing back at Astarion with a wide grin that matched his own. Abdirak wound the paddle up again, further back this time. It made a louder smack against her ass and she yelped a little louder. It hurt slightly, but didn’t have the familiar sting she was used to. “Perhaps it’s the pants,” she suggested.

“Bare ass!” One of the goblins shouted.

“Yeah!” Another added.

Tav looked back at her companions, every single one of them with a different expression on their face. “Alright,” she sighed, unbuttoning her pants and pulling them down just enough to reveal a bit of flesh.

“Nice,” Karlach whispered again, prodding Astarion, who had made a pleased noise in his throat at the reveal.

The priest eyed her lustrous pale skin hungrily. “Branded by Milil, I see,” he caressed the paddle against the lyre tattoo on her right ass check. “You do love to suffer for your art.” He wound the paddle up even more. It snapped across her ass loudly, a sharp yelp escaping her throat. The goblins cheered, her pale skin now marred by a slightly pink line. “More?” Abdirak asked.

“Please,” she nodded.

He impacted the same spot again, the slap of wood against skin echoing through the room. “Gods,” she cried, her ass stinging.

“Are you asking her for more?”

“More, Mistress of Pain. The flogger next.”

He switched his tools, taking the leather flogger in his hand. It impacted with less noise, but more pain, each leather strap hitting her skin in a different area. Her pink skin was now mottled by smaller red marks. “Again, please,” she asked, ready for one more. He complied, whipping the straps against her even harder. “Fuck!” She shouted as one of the straps snapped against the bottom of her vulva.

“Enough?” he heaved, the bright red marks on her ass almost intoxicating.

“For now,” she nodded, pulling up her pants so no one would see the growing wetness between her thighs. “Thank you. That was enlightening,” she turned around. Everyone that could blush, was, Astarion the most.

“Bravo, dear,” he caressed her ass as she rejoined the group. He’d kept his gaze fixed at the base of her cunt, curious to see how turned on she got. He’d bitten sharply into his lip when he’d seen the strap reach it and the slight glistening as she pulled her pants up. He kept that in his mind for later.

NSFW: Exhibitionism

Background: This is story takes place about 100 years before the events of BG3. Tav is fresh out of the bard's college and a fairly new resident of Baldur's Gate. In my story, she and Astarion are soul mates and had quite a few close calls before finally meeting in a scenario where they could actually be together. This chapter involves their first near miss. This chapter includes a brief discussion about this event.

Content Warning: Fondling, mermaid whisky dick, streaking, sexual coercion.

It was a beautiful day in the park, a warm late-spring breeze tickling through the air. Tav walked beside Adden, a handsome brunette who she’d met a few tendays ago. It wasn’t anything serious yet, as Tav was still seeing several other people at once, but she did like him quite a bit. He was an adventurer and she already had dreams of a thrilling journey she could turn into a book. She’d barely been out of the bard’s college for a year. They’d come to the park for a picnic and possibly some public sex. Tav wore a skimpy romper and no underwear, receiving quite few stares and glares from the upper class visitors to the park.

They found a slightly secluded spot off the main paths and spread their blanket out. They ate and shared a flask of whisky and a lot of heavy petting. “Everyone was staring at your ass,” he began pulling down her romper, slightly tipsy and leaving sloppy kisses across her skin.

“I think I heard one prude call me a harlot! Who says that anymore?” She laughed, also a little drunk.

“They are just jealous. You’re so fucking hot,” he unbuttoned his pants, though he was still not hard yet. She pulled them down all the way and then straddled him, grabbing his limp cock and rubbing it against her cunt. "Mmmm that feels good."

“Everything alright?” She finally asked after a few minutes of him moaning and grunting, that produced barely any effect on his cock.

“Um, I might have drank too much,” he smashed his hand against his flaccidness. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Seriously?” She whined, her cunt throbbing and wet.

“That mermaid whisky gets me every time.”

“Light-weight,” she sighed and climbed off him. “What now?”

“We should show these Upper City snobs some Lower City style.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Let’s streak! If they are so bothered about everyone looking proper, let’s be really improper.”

“That’s idiotic.”

“Why, are you scared?”

“No. I got extra credit every year at the college doing nude figure modeling.”

“Then come on, show off that beautiful body! Maybe the excitement will finally get me hard.”

“Fine, why not!” She shrugged, climbing to her feet. Adden grabbed the blanket, tying it around his neck like a cape. “Why do you get to wear accessories?”

“Because I’ve got a hairy arse and yours is perfect,” he smacked her on it. He piled all their clothes into the empty basket and slung it over his arm. “Come on!”

He ran back onto the path, beginning to sing some low brow tavern song. Tav shook out her waist length hair and joined him, her clear, powerful voice catching everyone’s attention. They skipped and danced through the park while singing and laughing, receiving equal amounts of smiles and glares. As they reached the edge of the park, someone seized Tav by the arm. “Oh shit,” she blanched when she saw the constable’s uniform. Adden saw the man as well, taking the opportunity to run off, still with her clothes in the basket. “Adden, you asshole! Get back here!” She shouted as the constable pulled her out of the park. “What’s the problem?” Tav bemoaned. “I was just having a bit of fun.”

“I’m sure all the patriars who will be berated all night by their wives about their wagging tongues won’t be having fun, Sweet Cheeks,” the constable grinned vulgarly.

“Where are you taking me?” Tav asked, as the constable grabbed an empty potato sack from a produce stand to cover her with, ripping open holes for her head and arms.

“The local jail. The magistrate has gone home for the night, so you’ll have to wait for him to decide the fine in the morning.”

“Fine? For what?”

“Indecent exposure. Maybe Aggravating the Virtues of a Proper Lady.”

“What? That's ridiculous!”

“Keep the saucy games down in the Lower City next time.”

Tav spent the night in jail, huddled in the potato sack. The female bailiff was kind enough to find her some pants in the morning, before she was brought up to the local magistrate’s office upstairs. “Had a little fun in the park, did we?” He read out her complaint, pulling off his spectacles to ogle her. He was a disgusting older-looking human, spoiled by wealth and excess, like most of the judiciary in Baldur’s Gate. He shifted with a grunt, his hand clearly on his cock now. “Perhaps we could come to some sort of arrangement?” he licked his lips. “Why don’t we head back to the scene of the crime and have a little fun ourselves and I forget all about the fine?”

“I’m sure I can pay it,” she tried to keep her face blank and not full of rage. This wasn’t the first time she’d been coerced after getting into trouble with the law.

“It’s very…large,” he grinned, unsnapping the top button of his trousers.

“How big?” She gritted her teeth into a seductive grin, balling up her fists.

“Why don’t you come to this side of the desk and see?” He smiled, shoving his hand down his pants.

She got up, focusing all her rage into her arms, walking behind the desk, finding his hand rubbing himself furiously. “That’s right, sweetie, come sit in my lap,” he grunted, pulling out his pink, wrinkled cock.

She leaned over him with a smile, taking a handful of his hair. She wound up her fist and punched him square in the nose. “It looks quite small to me,” she spit on him as he screamed, blood rushing down his face.

The bailiff ran in after hearing the commotion. She tried to hide a smile, knowing how many ended up behind the magistrate’s desk. “She broke my fucking nose!” He yelled as she pulled Tav away. “Another night in jail and double the fine, 500 gold,” he hissed, stuffing an expensive lace handkerchief to his face.

“That’s a first,” the bailiff remarked as she shut her back in.

“What? Him trying to coerce someone into sex?”

“Oh Gods no, he does that with almost anyone he thinks he can get away with, man or woman. You’re the first that’s ever made him bleed.”

“Why does he get away with it?”

“That’s Baldur’s Gate, honey. Everywhere actually. You have a fancy enough job title or a big enough safe in the Counting House, you can get away with murder.”

Tav sighed and sunk down onto the hard wooden bench. Spending another night in jail would mean missing out on another night at the tavern, singing for tips. She’d have to work the next tenday just to pay the fine, forgetting about rent and food. “Hey, chin up,” the bailiff locked her in. “As soon as the asshole leaves for the day, I will cut you loose.”

“Thank you,” Tav nodded as the woman disappeared into her office. She brought Tav a little extra food and blanket to keep her warm.

The magistrate changed into a new doublet, his other now ruined. His nose was plugged up with wads of cotton and his eyelids had already begun to bruise. If the woman cost him his handsome date tonight, she’d been in for an even bigger fine. He climbed down the stairs at dusk, glaring at the shadowed figure huddled in the corner of the jail cell. Perhaps she’d end up dead in the park after being abused in every hole. No one would know once her name was removed from his records. His date was waiting for him down the street. “Rucauld? What happened, darling?” Astarion tried to hide a smile by pretending to be shocked.

“Some fucking whore bard hit me. A degenerate they found sucking cock in the park or something.”

“Sounds like a lovely woman,” Astarion mumbled to himself, fussing over his latest target.

“I’m sorry if this ruins our evening,” Rucauld breathed heavily from his mouth. “I wanted to spend all night with you.”

“It’s alright, dear,” Astarion kissed his cheek, breathing a sigh of relief at not having to be subjected to fucking this man. “Why don’t we head back to my dear friend’s manor and I can ease your troubles?” He ran his hand against his cock suggestively.

"Mmmm, okay," Rucauld groaned, taking Astarion's arm.

Astarion could smell the blood clotted in the man’s nose, wishing he could just drain the bastard dead. Instead, he said a silent thank you to whoever the bard was, having been spared a night of humiliation with another cruel victim.

[magical-leek]

First Night Around The Fire

Edit: changed her from Drow to Teifling, felt like it fit the story better.

Tav took a swig of brandy, letting the bitterness sit on her tongue before swallowing the burning liquid. Her eyes drifted downward to the dancing flames of the campfire. The ribbons of smoke engulfed her, the familiar smell transported her to a memory of nights spent with Songbirds around a hearth. A smile crept across her face as she recalled exchanging pipes and bottles with her sisters while laughing at the secrets they had collected from that day's clientele. She pictured Merideth sitting stoically in a nearby rocking chair, painstakingly planning their next moves and humming a soothing tune to herself. Tav began to hum along with her; the memory felt so real that for a fleeting moment she was filled with comfort. It had only been a day since she was captured by the nautilus and had a tadpole burried in her skull. however it had felt like a lifetime since she last felt such peace. She clutched onto the memory as long as she could until a sharp voice pierced her thoughts, bringing her back to her cold reality.

“What is that infernal noise?” said Lae’zel.

“Wind by The Fireside.” Tav replied. She softly sang the tune she heard in her memory; It was a favorite of Merideths, a song she requested Tav to sing in the tavern a thousand times before.

“So as you shiver in the cold and the dark,

Look into the fire and seen in its spark—

My eye

Watching over you.

As you walk in the wind's whistling claws,

Listen past the howling wolf's jaws.

My song

Comes to you.”

Lae’zel grumbled in displeasure. “Do you have nothing better to do than sing Teeth-ling?”

"Teifling." Tav corrected, although she did not think it would make a difference to her gith companion. 

“You may be content with sitting around contemplating our death in silence. but I am not.” Said Tav. “We may as well do something to occupy our minds besides sit and think about the horrible little monsters in our heads.” 

She looked over to Wyll who sat restlessly next to her. He tapped his heels in the dirt with a chaotic rhythm and stared vacantly into the fire. His lips twitched in anticipation as if he was suppressing the urge to speak. Her suspicion of him was unwavering; from the moment their brains became entangled, she knew he had been keeping something from them, something big enough that it consumed his every thought. Her time with the Songbirds had taught her that information could be as powerful as a sword, she was determined to figure it out lest she fall victim to the unknown. However Wyll was on his guard, she knew wouldn’t get anything without making him feel comfortable first. 

“I have an idea, why doesn’t the Blade regale us with one of his famous heroics, how about it, Wyll? Tell the one where you saved a duke from a band of trolls. That one is my favorite.”

The Blade, who normally reveled in self indulgence, said nothing to her. After a moment she held out her bottle of brandy as an offering. Still, he ignored her, rocking to himself and mumbling under his breath.

“Wyll?”  She said cautiously. It was enough to break his concentration and he returned to his old cheerful disposition.

“My apologies. What were we talking about?”

Tav couldn’t help but to see his politeness as a mask placed over a cracked visage. She pressed him hoping it would reveal something of the truth he was hiding.

“Are you feeling alright? You look unwell.”

“Yes, yes…I’m just tired, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.” his voice quivered as he spoke; he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow bone. It was another crack in his reality. He was close to breaking, with a bit more time she would have her answer. However the sound of a sword unsheathing halted everything. Lae’zel had pulled out her dagger and pointed it in the direction of Wyll.

“He’s changing.” Lae’zel said abruptly.

“He was merely daydreaming.” Shadowheart interjected. “Put the dagger away before I put it away for you.”

“Calm yourself before you hurt someone…” Tav said. “No one is changing tonight, Giff.” She couldn’t help but to emphasize her mispronunciation. La’zel rolled her eyes and grumbled while she put away her dagger. 

Tav turned her attention back to Wyll. His movements were cautious so as not to alarm the others. Tav backed off, whatever it was he was hiding, she would have little chance of figuring it out tonight.  

“Nevermind Wyll. We will discuss it another time. Hopefully soon, it’s so rare that a bard gets to meet a legendary folk hero.” She said with a grin.

Wyll said nothing. He simply nodded, and bid the group goodnight as he left to find his tent. 

She looked across the firepit at Gale, who was fingering through a book of cantrips he had discovered on the road while taking copious notes in a leather bound journal. He carried the two books everywhere, even going as far as to check his pack religiously to make sure he had not lost the tomes while walking. She had observed the curious way he checked over his shoulder before writing things down. It wasn’t much to go off of, but it was enough to peak her interest.

“What is it you're working on Gale?” Tav said.

“Necromancy spells.”  He said, brimming with excitement. “Whoever wrote this book botched the translations. were lucky someone with considerable talents found this tome before anyone else got their hands on it, otherwise they would have created one hell of an explosion.” 

“You are checking the book for errors?” Tav said, noting the boisterous way in which he spoke.

“Yes! It’s always important to check over one's work before starting an incantation. I once had a colleague who fumbled over his words when reciting a spell. He was trying to summon a rain cloud, but instead he opened a portal that compressed his body into a cube of blood and flesh, the poor bastard never knew what hit him. I’ll never forget the noise…” He began to mimic the sounds of bones cracking until Tav interrupted him.

“Perhaps we should save the gorey details for another time, or perhaps we just never talk about it again.” 

Gale gladly went back to his editing. Tav grew disappointed in the lack of challenge he presented, he was not a man who hid things as much as a man who struggled to keep things in. Shadowheart on the other hand, was a real challenge. Her face lacked expression when she spoke and her mannerisms were deliberate, as if she was trained in discretion. She was a fortress unwilling to speak even the slightest detail of her life; Tav had briefly suspected her of being a fellow Songbird, but the brash manner in which she spoke was unlike that of her training.

“How about you Shadowheart?” said Tav.

“What about me?” She replied.

“Well, you strike me as the type of person with a story.”

“Well I’m not.” Shadowheart replied. Tav tried a new approach, she leaned in warmly, letting her own guard down just enough. She playfully smiled while she spoke.

“Hells, Shadowheart, I’ll die of boredom before the worm takes me out, give me something or i’ll be forced to ask Gale more details about his friends gruesome death or worse, listen to Lae’zel.”

Shadowheart laughed at this. Tav could tell she was becoming comfortable. She continued her approach with blunt playfulness. 

“Truly Shadowheart, you have nothing to tell? I mean, we share the same homeland, it can be quite a thrilling place. You must have stories from Baldur’s Gate. I mean, I have plenty.”

From behind her, a velvet voice pierced through the darkness, sending a shiver down her spine. “Let’s hear it then.” 

She turned around to find Astarion standing above her with a grin plastered across his face. He had returned from his solitary walk in the woods. He sat down next to her, and stretched out his arms to the fire for warmth. He smelled pungently of earth and sweat as if he’d been deeply immersed in mud, but his body remained remarkably clean. His porcelain skin beamed like a star against the black of the night.

“Go on.” He said.

“What are you talking about?” Tav said sharply.

“Well, you are so eager to get everyone else talking, yet you hold your cards very close to your chest. So let’s hear it.” 

He stared at her with piercing red eyes and a tight lipped smirk she found difficult to read. Her mind began to race as she wondered what it was that he wanted. Had he somehow discovered what she was doing? Or worse, did he know who she really was? After all, he was baldurian and a magistrate no less. Many magistrates called upon the Songbirds to extract secrets of their suspects before trial; he could have easily been a benefactor to them and simply toyed with her for the fun of it. This was a possibility, however, if he did know what she was, she would not give him the satisfaction of making her sweat. She smiled at him and relaxed her back against a nearby log, newly composed.

 “I have no issue with speaking, I am trained for it after all. I worked at a tavern on the west end of Baldur’s Gate, called The Nesting Grounds. I am an apprentice for the owner, Merideth Gotye.”

Astarion threw his head back and laughed. Her companions crinkled their brows and looked at one another in curiosity. Tav’s mind began to race again as she tried to come up with a deflection to whatever it was he was about to say.

 “How unexpected, you are full of surprises, aren’t you?” Astarion said.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She replied. 

“The Nesting Grounds is not just a tavern. It's a brothel.”

Tav smiled, and relaxed in her seat confident he knew nothing. “How antiquated. We prefer the term companion house.” 

“You're a prostitute?” Shadowheart said with wide eyes.

“No need to be so shocked by it all, I mean honestly I’m sure all of you who have stumbled into a brothel after a night of too much ale.” Tav looked to Lae’zel, who was picking dirt out of her fingernails with a blade. She amended her statement. “Well, most of you.” 

The silence built among the fire. Tav found joy in the discomfort of her companions, so long as they didn’t know about the songbirds, she could live with their awkward revelations of her side business. 

“Does this upset your sensibilities, Elf?” She said, turning back to Astarion.

“Hardly, but It does make you all the more interesting.”

“Trust me, you couldn’t afford me.” She replied.

 Tav felt a great relief as she regained control of the conversation, however she still knew nothing about this man, save that he tried to kill her without a second thought. Out of all of her companions, he was the one she feared the most. She could read the others like books, look at them and study their behaviors until she knew their intentions. However when she looked at him she found only darkness masked with coy humor.

“You said you were a magistrate?” Tav asked.

“Indeed.” Astarion replied. 

“Which sort of magistrate?”

“What kind of question is that?”

She spoke with bravado, and puffed out her chest. “Well, are you a defender of the people? Helping bring justice to those who desire it?”

“There is no gold in good deeds.” Astarion replied.

“Ah, the classic corrupt magistrate, and a brazen one too. What a treat.” Said Tav.

“It is not corrupt to choose cases that interest me, darling. It just so happens that what interests me is a full coin purse. Besides, it’s not as if your profession is brimming with morality.” He paused and turned to her with a smile she was learning to detest. “In fact, I think we are a lot more alike than you think.”

Tav furrowed her brow at him. “Selling your body and time to wretches and cheating husbands is a lot like being a magistrate?”

“Well, We both work with people, sometimes unsavory people, ones that make requests of us that others would find…distasteful.” Astarion said.

Tav held her breath, did he know her or was he toying with her? After all, she had always been careful with him. The consequences of an exposed Songbird agent was death, for all of her recklessness, she knew this all too well. However she could not account for the worm that now connected them. It was entirely possible that he had seen who she was through her thoughts as she had seen into his.

 Remembering what Merideth had taught her, Tav did the only thing she could do in these situations, deflect. “Fair enough, but I do hope that if I am to fall into legal trouble, you are the one sitting in the big chair.” 

She stood, lifting her bottle of brandy to study the contents. She took one last swig of the bottle and discarded it behind a log.

“All gone, that must mean it’s time for bed.” She bid her companions goodnight before returning to her bed roll, feeling the eyes of the pale elf on her back the entire way. 

[feelallthethings]

Silence

Description: The brain is defeated and the city is saved. You and your companions are free from the tadpole. But not everyone gets a happily ever after.

Word Count: 3.1k

Pairings: Tav/Gale (sort of)

Warnings: female!Tav. major character death. angst. hurt, no comfort. spoilers. open ending. lots of angst, i cannot stress this enough.

AO3 link

This is a self-indulgent continuation of the ending of the game that I got on my first playthrough. It affected me more than I'd like to admit so I wrote a thing about it. I'm not a Gale-hater but it probably seems that way. Told in second person.

Silence.

True, complete silence in your head, for the first time in months. The tadpole gone, the voices of your companions, once an ever-present thrum in the back of your mind, now vanished once and for all.

The brain defeated, the city saved. Mostly, anyway. And your companions, your friends, your family, here, safe and alive, every last one. It’s an indescribable high.

Pulling yourself onto a somehow still intact dock in Grey Harbor, you watch the flaming remains of the Netherbrain sink slowly into the water. No one seems to want to speak. You’re sure that they’re all relishing the same feeling as you, a feeling you hadn’t felt in months: peace.

Everything to rights, as it should be.

A pity it doesn’t last.

Gale comes to your side, his hands flexing absentmindedly as he silently tracks the brain’s descent into its watery grave. His eyes are glazed, clearly lost in thought. Not wanting to break his concentration, you back away silently and join the rest of your companions.

“It’s over,” Shadowheart says, “I can hardly believe it.” The two of you embrace, the sense of relief overwhelming. When you pull away, she whispers, “Thank you,” squeezing your arm gently with her scarred hand, and you know her well enough to simply nod in response.

“Minsc never doubted us for a second!” With a chittering from Boo, he adds, “Well, maybe for one second.”

“My powers… they’re draining, just like Mizora said they would,” Wyll says, sounding wistful.

“The Blade of Frontiers is a free man at last,” you say, bumping his shoulder with yours gently. Wyll gives you a small smile and flexes his fingers, as if testing to confirm his powers are truly gone. Nothing happens, and he smiles a little wider. “A small price to pay, in the grand scheme of things.”

“The city’s gonna be alright. We did it, soldier.” Karlach is standing with her hands on her hips, surveying the city.

“Fuck yeah we did,” you say, earning a bright smile from her. She scoops you into her arms, your feet briefly leaving the ground before she sets you back down on the wharf. You share a hug that's over far too quickly for your liking, and when you pull apart from each other, Karlach pecks a quick kiss on your cheek.

“The tadpole, I can tell that it’s gone. I am cleansed. I will never be a filthy ghaik,” Lae’zel sounds happier than you’ve ever heard her.

“And I’m still standing in the sun. Maybe whatever it did to me was permanent,” Astarion says hopefully.

You turn and grin at him brightly. “That would be amazing!” He looks content, and there’s a pang of longing in your chest that you quickly tamp down.

“And we didn’t even have to turn into mind flayers,” he says with a laugh. “No offense,” he adds hastily, shooting a glance at the Illithid standing a few feet away.

Orpheus approaches. “Only mild offense taken.” You cannot tell if he’s trying to make a joke. Probably not, you conclude almost immediately.

“My people will be liberated, but I cannot return to them, not like this. You helped me destroy that abomination. Help me destroy myself. You must kill me.” Orpheus holds a sword out, reminding you of the vow you swore after releasing him from his prison.

You nod solemnly, taking the proffered blade and stepping back.

“But before that,” he says, turning toward the githyanki, “Lae’zel.”

She fixes him with an intense stare.

“Carry my hope, carry my burden. Call my dragons and ride to the Astal Sea. Destroy Vlaakith, release our people. Be our future and our legacy.”

She straightens but doesn’t answer. You can sense her hesitation, and you lay a hand on her shoulder.

To your surprise, Lae’zel does not slap your hand away or snap at you to remove it. Which is as close to a declaration of friendship as you’ve ever gotten from her.

“You should do this. Your people need you.” As much as you’d like to keep every one of your companions on the same plane, you understand Lae’zel’s dedication to her people. Though she may be content staying in Faerûn for a time, sooner or later her sword arm would begin to itch for battle once more. You couldn’t live with yourself if you deterred her from her destiny.

She straightens. “It will be done. I will never be free while my people are still bound by Vlaakith’s chains.”

“Enough talk - give me my freedom. Freedom from this form.” Orpheus kneels down before you, arms extended, chest bared. You line up the sword where you assume an Illithid’s heart is and plunge it into his chest. He emits a piercing gurgle, utters something in githyanki that you don’t understand but has Lae’zel bowing her head, and collapses to the ground, dead.

You’re not sure if you should say something. You’ve just killed someone who gave his life to ensure the city still stands. Orpheus is as much a hero as anyone else here. But you also only knew him for a few short hours, and he hadn’t exactly been the most forthcoming companion.

In the end, Lae’zel makes your decision for you. She looks to the skies, bellows, “Quulos!” and scans the horizon.

A massive red dragon appears seemingly from nowhere and lands atop an already half-destroyed building on the beach. You’ve seen more dragons in the past few months than you could ever have imagined, but this is the closest you’ve been to one that wasn’t actively trying to kill you. The sight still sends a shiver down your spine as you picture just how easily the dragon could snap your body in two with its teeth or turn you to ash without a second thought.

Lae’zel doesn’t seem to share your reservations. She mounts the dragon easily, standing there like she belongs nowhere else. And perhaps she does.

“Your name will be etched in our slates, I swear it,” she tells you. “You will be called Mla’ghir - liberator. I can never forget you. None of my people ever will.” You understand that there is no higher honor she can bestow upon you, and you nod in response. She returns the gesture, gives you a final smile, and shouts, “To the skies!”

You watch her fly away, vanishing into one of the glimmering portals that open across the sky, ferrying away the rest of the Gith in just a few short moments.

You wish her every success in her journey and every kindness she is able to find. You hope you’ll see her again, but in your heart you know how unlikely that is.

“So, what now?” Wyll asks. He’s asking the group at large but looking to you for an answer. It seems your time as a leader hasn’t quite come to an end.

“We deserve a night off, I’d say. I wouldn’t be opposed to cracking open a few bottles of wine,” Shadowheart pipes up. “I’m sure the rest of you can find your own drinks,” she says with a wry smile.

“No drinking for me, or I’ll be face down on the ground before long. Or else attempting to scale the building in Wild Shape,” Halsin admits, sounding embarrassed. “But I agree that we deserve to relax for at least one night.”

"I wouldn't mind getting heroically drunk," Astarion chimes in with a laugh. " I'd say we've all earned some reckless abandon."

“A celebration sounds like the perfect idea,” you agree, shooting him a grin that he immediately returns. “We’ll see if the Elfsong survived the attack,” you say, thinking wistfully of your bed. “And if not, maybe there are still enough intact bottles in the cellar to cobble together a decent party.”

“Yes, a celebration sounds wonderful. A seat sounds even better,” Jaheira counters. Minsc comes to her side and you smile as he tries to coax Boo onto the druid’s shoulder, to no avail.

"Too much standing for your brittle knees?" you tease as though you hadn't just been plotting to slip away from the eventual merriment and meditate for as long as your body will allow.

Jaheira clicks her tongue and crosses her arms against her chest. "Too little respect, more like."

"Apologies. I should know better then to insult my elders by now." You hold out your arms and give her a mocking bow.

"Careful now, little one, or I may be tempted to let slip how truly close we are in age," she raises an eyebrow and tips her head to Astarion, who is resolutely looking anywhere else but at you. 

You round on him. "You little shit! I told you that in confidence," you say, jabbing a finger in his direction at him in accusation.

Astarion puts his hands on his hips. "As if it's my fault you didn't know better. I thrive on gossip, what did you expect?"

"A foolish decision, really," Wyll says, shaking his head.

"One of your worst," Shadowheart agrees.

Karlach pats you on the back. "You did this to yourself, soldier."

You scoff and roll your eyes. "Traitors," you mutter, making sure they can all hear you, "the whole lot of you." You let an easy grin fall over your face to show there's no heat behind your words.

A comfortable silence settles over your group.

The city is smoldering, waiting to be rebuilt.

But it seems Gale’s mind is elsewhere.

He is still standing at the edge of the dock, his back turned, staring out at the water. Still smiling, you go to rejoin him, reaching for his hand when you get close. He doesn’t move, and you let your hand and your smile fall, disappointed.

“The Crown,” he says softly, “It’s somewhere in the Chionthar. If I can find it, if I can salvage the stones, I can reforge it.”

He steps away, a distant look in his eyes. “The Karsite Weave would be mine to command. I would be more than the greatest wizard who ever lived. I would be a god.”

“That submersible we took to the Iron Throne,” you say, plans already beginning to take shape in your head. “I doubt it’s unscathed, but with a bit of luck we can get it running. And once we do we can…” you trail off as Gale fixes you with a look you don’t understand.

“No, Tav. This is something I must do myself.”

“Like fuck you do,” you blurt indignantly, “we’re in this together, whatever happens.”

Gale lets out a dry laugh. “You would only slow me down. The magnitude of magic required to find the Crown, let alone to reforge it, will be immense. It’s going to require an incredibly careful hand. Not to mention the deftness with which I shall have to contend with Mystra. She’ll not look kindly on my attempt to overpower her, I’m sure of it. She certainly hasn’t in the past.”

You snort. “You act like I’ve never defied a god before.”

“This is different. This is more… personal.”

“Because it’s Mystra.” It isn’t a question, and Gale doesn’t answer, just sighs and holds your gaze. The small movement of his head makes his earring catch the rising sunlight. Her symbol, a badge of devotion to an egotistical monster. And worn by the same. You have your answer, in any case.

“You’re leaving, then.” You want to argue, to plead with him not to go, but you’re already feeling so small, so foolish for believing that you could ever mean more to him than a literal goddess. You bite the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from saying anything you’ll regret.

“I must,” Gale says simply. After a pause, he adds, “Mystra’s wrath is something I have a hand in. I couldn’t guarantee your safety.”

His words evoke the air of one afraid for a lover’s life. But the gleam in his eye at every mention of his goddess’s name betrays his intentions. There is no concern for your safety there, only the raw lust of promised revenge, the conflicted nature of a lover scorned, and an even deeper hunger for power than you thought him capable of.

“Perhaps once I’ve claimed the Crown, I’ll send for you. You may yet have the honor of serving at my side.” With a short bow, he strides away, disappearing into the rising sunlight just beginning to peek through the clouds.

You feel numb. Is this what heartbreak feels like? Utter betrayal? Foolishness for believing in something that was never there to begin with? That loathsome sensation of insignificance comes over you, a concept you haven’t felt in months, not since a beautiful stranger filled your dreams with pretty lies. Your eyes are locked onto the last place you could see Gale, some insignificant point farther down the pier, now simply an empty expanse of wooden planks.

“Do you think we can do this?” you ask him, your hand resting on his chest, softly tracing the outline of the Orb. His skin here is indented, bruised a deep purple. It pains you, knowing how much this renegade piece of magic has hurt him.

He opens his eyes and smiles as he catches your gaze. “I’d be a poor excuse for a wizard if I wasn’t at least a little overconfident in my own abilities.” He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your palm before replacing it over his heart, his hand covering yours completely.

“And what about my abilities?” You prop yourself up on one elbow and look down at him, your brow furrowed in mock indignation.

Gale reaches up and taps your forehead lightly. “Your hammer-swinging skills are unparalleled, my love. The Elder Brain doesn’t stand a chance."

You sense your anxiety starting to dissipate in the wake of his words and gentle touches. Self-assuredness, a rather unfamiliar feeling, fills your mind, and you lean down to kiss him before lying back down, your head nestled against his shoulder.

“We’ll be celebrating our victory, Crown in hand, in no time,” you say, gazing up at him.

At your mention of the Crown, something flickers in Gale’s eyes. Something dark, yet hopeful. “Once I have the Crown, ascension won’t be far behind. I’ll be able to craft us a future worthy of legend,” he says, sounding distant. “I’ll make us gods.”

A sudden cry of anguish rips you from the memory. With a recognition borne out of months of too-close quarters and ever-present danger, your eyes snap to Astarion instantly.

“Oh no,” he says, horrified, “oh gods.”

His body is bathed in light from the now-risen sun, his skin starting to boil and crack. Frozen in horror, you can do nothing but watch his futile attempts to cover his face as he hisses in pain.

“Well, it was nice while it lasted.” You can tell he’s trying to remain aloof, to pretend this turn of events hasn’t completely shattered him, but the dry laugh he adds to his words may as well be an admission.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” he says hurriedly, taking off down the pier, desperately searching for the cover of shadows.

You start to run off after him, but only make it a few steps down the length of the dock before another cry of pain rings out from behind you.

Karlach is on her knees at the edge of wharf, her hand gripping onto her flaming chest.

“This is it, soldier,” she says through gritted teeth.

“No!” You scream, running back down the pier, stumbling to your knees before Karlach as molten heat radiates from her slumped figure. You thought you’d have more time to find her a cure, something to stop her engine from overheating. But fate doesn’t care for the hopes and dreams of a single unimportant elf.

You want to hold her, to clutch her tight, to drag her back to Avernus.

All you can do is watch.

“Stay with me?” She asks in a small voice that shatters your heart.

“Of course.” You made her a promise, and you’d rather die than break it. “I’m here, Karlach. I’m here.”

“Engine’s finally cooked. Held on just long enough. So? How’d I do?” Her voice is laced with desperation.

You fight back the sob that wants to escape your lips. “You were spectacular in every way. You were amazing.”

“So were you. My friend. My companion. I adore you.”

You go to lay a hand on her shoulder just as another lick of flame flares up around her.

“Careful - hot.” She’s gripping her chest in pain, panting from the exertion. “I never gave up. I did my best. Ugh, it’s the one thing I can’t beat, isn’t it? I wanted to live - in my city, with my friends. But life is for the living. And I saw - gods!”

Another horrible burst of flames, and she hunches over even further. You don’t think, just reach out and place your hand over hers, lacing your fingers together. You fight back a grimace from the intense heat threatening to peel skin from bone.

“Karlach,” you start, but there isn’t anything you can think to say that doesn’t feel woefully inadequate. How can you boil down your feelings into mere words? How important she is to you, how sorry you are for failing her, how much you love her, how much you all love her. She’s been at your side ever since you crossed paths. You’ve laughed together, cried together, been through every step of your journey together. You wanted to save her. You wanted to find a way to fix her engine and watch her live her life. “Love you,” you settle on, trying to push everything she means to you into those two words.

Her lips are pressed together in distress, but she croaks out, “Love you soldier,” and you think, you hope, that she understands. Then, more flames, more heat. “Goodbye sun. Goodbye sea. Goodbye.”

With one final cry of anguish that will haunt your nightmares until your dying breath, Karlach is engulfed in flames. The glove on your hand is incinerated, newly exposed flesh cracks and bubbles, but you feel no pain. The profound emptiness in your heart is far worse than a simple flesh wound.

You get shakily to your feet, clutching your burnt arm to your chest, numbly taking in your surroundings.

A sizzling pile of ash before you.

A distinct lack of withering commentary or barking laughter.

A cold, empty space at your side.

And the raucous cries of celebration from the city beyond, growing ever louder, blissfully unaware of the vast well of loss opening within the very soul of its savior.

A cheer cuts through the air from somewhere nearby, and your knees give out. You feel yourself tipping sideways, toward the edge of the pier, getting closer to the inky black water below. I wonder if my body will end up near the crown, your addled mind thinks, and then…

Silence.

[libidomechanica]

The owls must needs bear the orders, also,

Now more tender, so shall condemn?     For Shimei was alone. At last you want a great god Pan,     as summ’d in jollity, and so Adieu. They shew’d he loves     his fear, his whole in the chief, and duty to the kindle     liuing dead wood whose most sacred

ill, whose lillyes, ere theyr shewes     but he then, I think, t’ espouse his pricked but in will,     then for aye undone. Love to ravish’d every day—not be     prolonged for. Juan, by some disappointed, expect while we     crouched so indeed, rose-jacynth

to them threw up the Way; while     our fortune and foolish Israel. Instant, independent     of Time’s worst which there are in praise; before slept quiet and     her eternal mansion. Self-Lost, and then more discerned; as     their treble interjection’s

spoils of Kent. Required. Immortal     song. For this Achithphel Unites the Malecontent     to loue, wyll be lost their grim career to sing the sun, and     binds iron thorns around were a match made them not lie in     face with foaming which some

attentions still kissed it: then is     left him midst this Verse to hang on her Cheek, whose arms championed     our cartridges? The fifth, whole mother and plump the handmaid     of the sweetest leaves shut out, as the young souls amazeth.     Not loc, Old English

theeues steal to cancel private pain     as much as she never did the small gnats mourning mixt their     happy time to shield her, walked and the withstood in Regions     mayst in mighty fret? His wonder, firing, and in few     lives, all but his indulgent

David spoke: with wrong; was ever     was Patriots in the Light insinuation; which     my silly barke was the mere victours borne of her Front, and     death may ye die! Then save thee lives: he is furious, that     sunshine in sorrow and

some forth thee wings shoot, and o’er her     linnens, and ne’er before, in more delightes. His chain, and     o’er and perfection, and the Jordan’s Sand the boy’s palms were     shattered leewardings, samite sheet and pillow, breeding sweet,     O Love, and had not help

believing all night. He did so,     never hear. As in all that sate upon the river; and     heau’nly beauty of my though shadowes vayne. Melancholy.     Over seas at rest, and mar my peaceful Action, knowing     world, and sooner fight

that all admire. So lamely drawn     thus in verse, with suddain Vengeance take. An enjoying of     my bent: ’-yes, I’ ll begin a thorough reformation.     But not thy vision I did it matter? Which hate half fooled     to leave. The owls must needs

bear the orders, also, reliquary     hands theyr shiny beames doe worke assoyle, doth     place of womankind. Bad in its strength the chest, flooding yougth     to share, fresh youth: lend out to thralls her comely should have sugar’d     Shírín’s Lip the Heathen

Priest, where shattered leewardings,     some Circumstances finds, but with my number, voice, which I     hope ere long: and Venus having been used to Saul. Not find     room even in age the lady in your incessantly     with most assured arre. Of

our great sunflower. Not one would     not cure his book’s the rest his Frame coud bear: had God of all     that dimmed and while teares poure out a little captive gain’d,     what’s the lassie o’ my heart as feminine diseases     fled before, and soul shall

begin to be had all the bounds     of nations were, not his rynd is tough—they follow’d by the     thinks those who dwell in these content, submitting alone. To     this first it grumbles, the wild insanity of carnage,     when I have slept in cheerlesse

dwell and more harder she is     tired, let me have all the wilderness of Greatness, since     me kept his stubborne hart to groan for towns by storm: no causes     can be got at will, and take my sight, and touch was now     all neck or not so large

Soul, not admire, and lazy     Happinesse, in goodly bosome bright bands can wink; and no more:     in deep discourse of hours by hours. I perch upon the grass     before; or fled she virtues keep the eye grows a flowers     to descry the harte. And

one of the fresh youth and fragrant     Eglantine: and the dale, and my foes despight: and bitter     Cistern forc’d to David’s mildness Ill with golden tresses,     who, in their measure to him, and every stable his fearlesse     dwell in witness Corahs

place, and worse, the fights not then     he repent, him caught at you, but, Betty! My though evening,     my sweet peace shall find, happy to have to gay, a feeble     I t’abide the green-eyed monster which it may not be     Secure of him, than he.

[soartfullydone]

Astarion Thing Maybe!! And "I don't like this"

Astarion thing maybe

This is my no doubt shoddy attempt to write a self-indulgent ship with Astarion when I know nothing about Baldur's Gate 3, its plot, or any other characters really. I was inspired by that moment a player found in an earlier patch of the game where Astarion didn't cross the river with the party, so they left him behind on accident. He apparently wouldn't cross unless you made him, and when he did, he took damage besides. I really hope this is something that stays in the game because it's hilarious. This is the scene I've decided to set the fic, turning it into a bigger moment for storytelling and side scene shenanigans. I'm not far with it at all, but I can share a little something.

They really had just left him behind, hadn’t they? Astarion would laugh if he weren’t so offended. Imagine, leaving someone as charming and well-dressed as him behind.

It wasn’t like he felt particularly weepy over it. Their little band had only ever been a means to an end for him, and it was relieving to be free from certain presences. Wyll, with all his honor and straight-forwardness, was insufferable. Lae’Zel was always a mere two steps away from complete savagery that he kept waiting for her to fully devolve back into a fish. Shadowheart wouldn’t know a good time if it waltzed up to her, wearing fashionable leathers and a too-sharp smile. As for Gale… Astarion held back a shudder. He didn’t want to think about everything that was wrong with Gale. Where would he even start?

No, Astarion could confidently say he wouldn’t miss any of them. Their appointed leader, on the other hand…

Ever since his little roll in the sand with Melody Westfire, both of them battling for control over a knife, Astarion had felt a deep-seated amusement towards the human woman. She was fun to tease and rile, even—and, perhaps, especially—whenever she wasted his time by being such a busybody. He supposed part of him would miss that. A much larger part would simply miss being able to undress her with his eyes whenever he wanted.

He would move on soon. For now, Astarion was content to linger here, basking in the sun, his face turned up toward its golden rays. In all his years of living and torture, he’d never thought it would be possible for him to do something so simple as feel the sun, not without causing tremendous pain if not death.

If only the damnable water had gotten the missive.

“There you are!” Ah, so thinking about her had summoned her. Melody’s voice was unmistakable even if it was higher than usual yet still possessing of its sultry quality. She was also short of breath. Delightful. “I’m going to strangle you.”

I don't like this

Why, this is none other than my self-ship fic with Lotor. Y'know, the one I haven't written anything past getting dicked down real good in a very dub-con way? Well, that's not wholly true. There's a good bit of the second chapter written, but then the rest of Voltron happened, and I lost my sense of urgency to continue it. You'll likely recognize it by its official name, Invictus, but its Christian name is I don't like this because that was the fic's opening line, and I decided to save it like that lol. I really should get back to this, though, someday. I had so many plans for it. Lotor, his generals, and all of them being evil together mattered so much to me. Here, have a good chunk of chapter 2 since it's been so long.

“Eventually, Allura or Coran’s going to lock the castle down with how all you paladins keep sneaking out of it without permission.”

“I can blame you this time,” Pidge quipped. “Plus, better to beg forgiveness.”

Suddenly, Melody was somewhere else. She couldn’t move, wasn’t permitted. A claw scraped slowly up her thigh before stopping, and that was an unbearable thing. Beg, pet.

She snapped herself out of it, and if her voice was a little higher pitched than usual, she prayed Pidge didn’t notice. “Hard to believe Hunk turned out to be the responsible one.”

“I know!” Pidge grinned in disbelief, snapping her cases shut with familiar finesse. “I never thought he’d ever be able to hold down his lunch in a simulator let alone a magical space lion.”

Melody helped Pidge carry her equipment as they made their way back to Green, which was sitting just outside, waiting for them. “They grow up so fast.”

Their trip back to the castle was uneventful. Melody wasn’t sure that was a good thing because when she stepped down from the lion, her legs jumped with restlessness.

“There you are!”

Melody and Pidge looked up at Shiro’s approach. Melody bit the inside of her lip. She still hadn’t asked Shiro all the uncomfortable questions she really needed to ask him. With Team Voltron busy with the coalition and some new plan in the works to attack the Empire where it would hurt, there hadn’t been a good time.

“You missed training,” Shiro told Pidge. “Again.”

“It was for a good cause.” Pidge held up her computer case, as if it explained everything. Which, for everyone who was familiar enough with her, it did. Shiro’s eyes visibly softened, and his stance relaxed.

“Did you find anything?” he asked, concerned.

“This was actually my little escapade,” Melody cut in with a rueful sigh, “and no, we didn’t. I thought I’d found a lead on my dad, but I was wrong.”

“Hey, maybe not,” Pidge reminded her. “I still have a good chunk of data to weed through, but it should only take me a few days.” She eyed Shiro pointedly. “Maybe less if I could cut back on a little training…?”

Shiro looked like he wanted to object, but facing both of their imploring faces caused him to relent with a sigh. “Fine, just so long as you launch back into it as soon as you’re done, Pidge. Every day gets us closer to the Blitz, and I need you focused.”

“Yes, sir!” Pidge saluted before grabbing the other suitcase from Melody and running off, no doubt to find her brother and get to work.

Shiro sent Melody an inquiring glance. “Y’know, I’m surprised you haven’t tried to find out what we’re talking about yet.”

“Is that your way of telling me I’m nosy?” She smiled to ease any sharpness in her words.

Shiro smiled back, a warm little expression that made her feel like she’d won something she didn’t entirely deserve. “No, it’s just— Well, yeah, I guess so. It’s just you’re usually a lot more investigative. And vocal about strategy. I’ve missed it.”

He was dancing around the issue of her capture. Melody had come back different from the experience, she knew she had, but still, she’d let Shiro dance if he didn’t want to ask her directly. She didn’t want to talk about it.

“Loose lips,” she told him. “Whatever attack you’re planning for the Galra, it’s best that it doesn’t spread too quickly before it’s finalized. Besides, not much I could do to help anyway. I don’t have a ship right now.”

“Actually, about that.” Shiro gestured for her to walk with him. “Allura and I just got something we thought you might like.”

Melody arched a brow and followed. “A gift from the coalition?”

“One of many.” Shiro grinned, leading her towards the castle’s ship hanger which was separate from where they stored the Lions. “Though, this one’s a little more personal. Kolivan must still feel bad about what happened because he donated an old ship he doesn’t need anymore.”

Melody smiled back. “Dude. I love free shit.” Their high-five was the definition of camaraderie.

The ship was small, easily manned by one person though it had room for around four other ship hands to comfortably live. The Blades must have used it for smuggling in the past, for it was already equipped with a false floor, leading to a storage area. Space was cramped, sitting room only, but people or crates of supplies and weapons could fit down there for a short while.

Shiro walked with her through the brief corridors, which led to two bunked sleeping quarters, a small mess and living space, two turrets, the captain’s quarters, and finally the cockpit, where Shiro showed her how to power on the ship along with the controls. Melody was grateful for his assistance because the controls were mostly unlabeled, but the ones that weren’t along with the text appearing on the viewport were in Galran.

Her Galran speech was okay. She could understand most of it that was spoken to her. Reading it was another matter she hadn’t dedicated much time to, and this ship clearly once belonged to the Empire before it belonged to the Blades.

By the time the tour was finished and Melody felt comfortable with the controls, she felt as giddy as if it were Christmas morning.

“Thank you guys, really.” With a dark look, she grumbled, “I’ve been beyond pissed that Lotor took my old ship.”

“Yeah, um, I’ve been meaning to ask…” Shiro turned to her fully now, frowning. “Have you… Are you okay?”

If he hadn’t been looking at her so intently, Melody would have taken a huge inhale and exhale. Instead, she crossed her arms and shrugged. “Sure, never better. Why?”

“It’s just… Ever since we found you, you’ve seemed a little off. Especially whenever Lotor’s brought up.” Shiro’s eyes glanced above her head, scanning the hanger as if he were searching it for the right words to say. “It’s obvious you hate him, especially after being captured by him, and no one here’s his biggest fan on a good day, but did anything else happen?” Shiro’s eyes found hers, their gray depths shadowed with disquiet. Even though they were alone, he lowered his voice. “Did he hurt you?”

Had he hurt her? What was the definition of that word in this case? Was it synonymous with change, and if so, had she been changed because of him, because of what he’d done? Did that change harm her, making her into something somehow less than what she’d been before?

Beneath her arm, her left fist clenched. Hell no, it didn’t. It just pissed her off.

“He was surprisingly accommodating, actually.” A simple half-truth. “He handled interrogations himself because there weren’t any druids aboard his ship. I got the distinct impression he doesn’t care much for them. I don’t think he expected me to escape which was why nothing worse happened to me than confinement. He thought he had more time.”

Melody shrugged again and uncrossed her arms, bracing one hand on her hip. A cocky smile spread across her face. “That’s what he gets for underestimating us humans. I suppose I’m just acting weird because I keep thinking what might’ve happened if I hadn’t escaped. I’ll try to get over that.”

“Take your time,” Shiro said with an uncertain smile, though he was also relieved. “I just wanted to check on you. No one expects total normalcy after an experience like that.”

Because he’d given her the opening, Melody decided now was the time to go through with it. “There was something he let slip that I’ve been thinking about.”

Melody turned and leaned her back against the hull of the ship. Her ship now. She did release that sigh then. “I don’t mean to pry into your past, Shiro, but when you were captured…” She waited for him to stop her. When he didn’t, just continued listening with a sober stillness, she continued, “Did you ever hear the guards or anyone mention something called the Galra Killer?”

Shiro’s shoulders loosened slightly, probably because the question hadn’t actually been about him. His gaze bored into the floor between their feet as he thought. “I’m… I’m not sure. My time in the arena is still mostly fuzzy.” He raised his head. “I can’t say off the top of my head I remember the name, no, but I can try to remember. Do you think it’s something—or someone—who would be willing to help us?”

“With a name like Galra Killer, probably. Given they’re still alive.”

Melody’s heart had been pounding waiting for his response, but now… She couldn’t tell whether or not she was relieved or disappointed that Shiro hadn’t been able to confirm her suspicions. That not only was she, Melody, this Galra Killer as Lotor had claimed, but that somehow her path had crossed with Shiro’s. They had similar gaps in their memories, some of her missing time overlapping with his. She’d been found with serious physical traumas like Shiro had once had, though at least she still had all the parts she’d been born with.

Maybe it’s for the best he didn’t recall anything. She wanted to put her time with Lotor to rest anyway, so what did his claims matter in the end?

[lairofsentinel]

What can we say about the relationship between the tadpole and the person who appears in dreams?

[Baldur’s Gate 3, Early Access, Spoilers]

At a first glance, in a careless attempt, we immediately connect the tadpole with the image of the person in our main char’s dreams. One is inclined to think it is the tadpole itself asking for the host to let them in. However, after carefully watching the scene, and checking all its options... I started to doubt it.

During Early Access we only can see four dreams [video compilation of the dreams]:

The first one, in which only the voice is heard for a couple of seconds, shows a weird... tentacle-like creature? It’s not made of the gray skin of a Mind Flayer, it’s red, and unless it’s a terrible bug... it may say that we are in the presence of something different than the usual Mind-Flayer. In fact, I think it looks like a tiefling or a Cambion tail/wings (they have thorns). Could it be Raphael’s since he is red? How do we explain those boots in the top of the screenshot?. Maybe it’s a mere bug.

The second one, in which the main char awakes in that intense green garden, has a peaceful sense to it.

The third one is when that desired person in the dreams shows you an enemy you stab in self defence, and then you observe an entire city under siege.

The forth one is when you have the ability to kill that person in the dreams.

After having the second dream, we can talk about this with our companions. All of them, except by Astarion, explain that their dreams were about desire and power. About a promise. 

It's clear for us that Gale dreamt about Mystra and Wyll about Mizora. Both women are the embodiment of power and desire. We don't have a clue who Shadowheart dreamt about, but we know is a he that represents the same values. Astarion is the one who disrupts the pattern. 

He dreamt about Cazador, which is for sure the representation of power, but of his desire? At first I thought it was a twisted taste forced onto him over two hundred years of slavery. As a slave, maybe he had to learn how to enjoy the worst things just to endure it, so the incredibly wicked and twisted insinuation of Astarion being attracted to his tormentor... was surprising at first. Especially when you explore his dialogue and he shows a strong bad reaction to such insinuation. 

Thinking about it a bit more, I realised that maybe Astarion “desiring” Cazador is another thing he is forced to do against his own will. Or maybe it's the typical consequence of the vampire relationship with the sire: the childe is always attracted to their sire, no matter how much they hate them. Astarion is not even free of having his own desire due to Cazador's power, so... his dream about Cazador was another display of the control that such figure has over him. Therefore, we can say that, in the end, he is also following the pattern, but his desire is commanded by being a vampire spawn. 

When it comes to the main char, we also know that such figure in their dreams is someone they are attracted to [that's exactly what we were asked to do in the character creation part].

The tadpole in the main character's head reacts negatively to this desired person, and it’s strange. It can mean that the projection of that figure and the tadpole are not the same (Gale, are you wrong?). The figure acknowledges the presence of the tadpole and the transformation in process, and they seem to be in power of stopping it if only you let them “in”. But the presence of the tadpole is always there while interacting with this figure, uncomfortable and wanting to get away from that desired person. The tadpole feels threatened by this figure. 

At times, this beautiful figure feels like an entity proper of a demon, asking you to let it in and possess you. We know by Shadowheart’s comment that this voice appeared in her head when she was in the ship, so that we can assume it started to affect the hosts by the same time the tadpole process started.

The hag provided us the most valuable information I found out in the game. She confirmed that the tadpole has been altered, as everyone had suspected. But not only that... they had netherese magic, shadow magic (*) in it. This, however, feels wrong in terms of lore: mind flayers detest arcane magic, they believe its a corrupt version of the psionic power they have. Mixing it with their traditional birth procedure looks odd. Odd if this new experiment is only their idea. Maybe the big mind behind these new tadpoles is not a Mind flayer.

With this bit of information given by the hag, I was inclined to think that this magical compound may explain the presence of the person in the main char's dreams. What surprises me is that the tadpole wants the figure away, so how is it possible that both, the figure and the tadpole, work one against the other? If we assume that the tadpoles were altered to perform a transformation of some sort, shadow magic embodied by that figure and the tadpole should work together. However, the tadpole triggers hunger and animal instincts to rip that figure out. It feels endangered. Maybe it’s because the whole procedure is an experiment yet.

The desired figure keeps claiming they want you to help, but in the process, they also tell you that you can be more powerful and conquer Baldur's Gate [yes, despite the blurriness, it is enough to distinguish the characteristic entrance of the city].

[image from the trailer]

The last dream is one of the most disturbing ones. You awake with symptoms of your skull starting to change its bones, and apparently, the presence of the figure is the only thing which is preventing the transformation. The figure is irritated. You can ask them for help you because the parasite is going too far. The figure says that they need to go deeper into you to calm down the “animal” inside. And once more the tadpole activates a defence mechanism. 

You can indulge yourself in the desire of destroying the figure apart, and you ride the figure strangling them and killing them. The figure calls you “monster” and tells you that you deserve what's coming for you [which I assume, it's the standard Mind Flayer transformation]. The experiment may have failed in this way since you destroy the stasis.

If you resist the impulse of killing them and at the same time resist the intrusion of the figure, the figure is disgusted with you. The figure only is understandable with you when you tell them the truth about your impulse of killing them. They will state that they knew about it, and they trust you to control it while they go deeper into you. 

It’s disconcerting if the sudden hunger for death comes from the tadpole (I put my coins here) or from the figure going deeper into you. I assume it’s the tadpole because the figure will call you monster and wont be happy if you indulge yourself in that hunger. 

By the end, the figure calls you ungrateful if you resisted them once more and tells you that the next time you meet them, you will ask forgiveness. Early access allows that last dream and no more.

Hypothesis

Now, all these strange urges for murdering the figure makes me wonder if the magical compound that now these tadpole have is related to some evil divine entity, playing a role similar to Bhaal in Baldur’s Gate 1 and 2. In those previous games, you and a bunch of people were direct spawn of the God of Murder, and in a couple of occasions, you had strong urges to kill losing control of your character [and killing NPCs you were fond of]. What if... this new tadpole is an experiment combining the Mind-Flayer procedure of birth (needed in order to have a completely different body for new demi-god powers) with a divine-infused-magical compound from the shadows. What for?. I don’t know... maybe to create an army of demi-gods? [following the usual flavour of Baldur’s Gate series]. 

This procedure, if it’s as such, could allow to have god-spawn creatures without the God sleeping with mortals and waiting mortal-gestation times. xD If we follow this train of thoughts, and we believe a God is behind all this, it must be some tyrant God, like Bhaal or Bane, since the dreams are all about power and control, showing Baldur’s Gate under siege. Maybe the procedure is not perfect, since there are two different effects working one against the other: The shadow magic that infuses a degree of divinity is about desire and power, but the tadpole’s only interest is to go on with the standard Mind-Flayer procedure. 

I thought about this divinity-compound because we saw that there are third parties interested in this new particular tadpole: Raphael. What Gale says to you after his visit is a fact: if a cambion become interested in these tadpoles, it’s because there is more than souls at stakes. But all of these are specualtions. The only certanties are:

Tadpoles are not only Mind-Flayer-made.

They have been altered with Shadow Magic (weird for Mind Flayers).

The Tadpole and the figure which offers you power are different entities.

The more you use powers of command, the more these dreams come and the more it triggers the Mind-Flayer transformation.

The figure in your dreams is the only one preventing the Mind-Flayer transformation.

Conventional tadpoles only cause Mind-Flayer transformation in a week.

Extra information I found later [here]

More content of bg3 in general [here]

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

(*) Shadow magic is a Weave-base magic in the Forgotten Realms. It comes from the Shadow Planes connecting to them via the Weave. It's not related to Shadow Weave (an alternate Wave crafted by Shar), something I talked about when explaining some bits of Mystra [here]. You use the standard Mystra-Weave to use shadow magic, but it's not rare that users of shadow magic find some affinity with Shadow Weave. Apparently it's a type of magic strongly related to a human [Tethyrian] ethnic. Churchs of Lolth, Mask, Set, Shar, and Shargaas  show interest in this type of magic. 

[aeona-ao3]

A Wayward Blade - Chapter 9

⚔️ Wyll x 🩸 Astarion Slow Burn / Eventual Smut / Hurt/Comfort

⚠️ Content Warnings Implied / Referenced SA, Implied / Referenced SI

This chapter:

The Shadowlands greet them coldly. Astarion grows increasingly frustrated with Wyll’s methods. A devil tracks the desperation in their scents.

Excerpt CW: Reference Past SA

Wyll yielded to him, in the end. It's good to know that he can apply a little bit of focused pressure to get his way. But Astarion isn't sure that the righteous warlock can help himself when it comes to the matters of devils — it's entirely possible that they get there and the man crumbles beneath the pressure. Shoulders his way in and ruins the one chance Astarion has at knowing. Knowing the purpose of the agony, the reason that aligns the scattered stars into coherent sense. Knowing the purpose of his creation, the reason why the death in the alleyway was only the first, rather than the last. Knowing, so that he can map out the trajectory of the pieces of the board. What had Raphael called it? The Theskan Counter-Gambit, or some nonsense. Attack Cazador's pieces to pressure the king himself. Make him beg, feed his rules back to him as Astarion flays his skin from his flesh, muscles from bone, as he finally gets to direct the bloody theater he's envisioned thousands of time in the confines of his skull — while in the tomb, in the Kennels, in the distant place he went to when Cazador was inside of him.

Summary

In the aftermath of the nautiloid crash, Wyll falls prey to the easiest trick in the book like some naive tourist, marking him as an easy target for the vampire spawn freshly freed from his master's command. Astarion latches onto the man's heroic tendencies; it's easy to pretend he needs saving. Of course, Astarion is only pretending. Right?

A mostly canon-compliant fic that follows the scaffolding of canon events in the frame of "Wyll as Player Character", using canon events to guide the overarching plot but focusing very primarily on building these two's relationship around it.

You can expect:

Sinfully intimate and erotic bloodletting

Angst, heartbreak, and some good ole Astarion manipulation to hide his trauma

Hopeless romantic Wyll saving anyone he feels needs saving

A slow, intimate burn towards some self-indulgent smut

Read on AO3