#they are a tiefling and they are afraid of getting close to people

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Hypersexual

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: reference to SA if you squint?, Astarion being soft, reader being defensive af, persistent Astarion, happy ending because I'm weak

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It was one of the first things Astarion noticed about you. Your bed was rarely empty. The Grove, the Goblin Camp, the Underdark, Moonrise Towers, etc. Everywhere you went you seemed to have a warm body beside you by the end of the night. Himself included. He pined for your attention. Feeding from you daily brought you close, sleeping with you brought you closer, opening up bit by bit brought you even closer. And yet, he could still find the occasional rando leaving your tent at first light. If he listened closely enough, he could almost always hear sniffles coming from your tent every time someone left. He typically ignored it, opting to not care so he didn’t get attached. Unfortunately for him, he was attached. He had been for a while and seeing people leave your tent was like a knife to the chest every time. He wanted to confront you eventually, so that's what he did. 

He walked over to your tent, hearing the sniffles intensify the closer he got. When he peered inside he saw your naked form, balled up tight, sobbing quietly. He saw the hickies and claw marks the tiefling from last night had left on you. “Y/N?” he whispered.

You swiftly wiped your tears away as you moved to cover yourself up. “Astarion, darling. It’s so early, is everything alright?” You threw on the best smile you could manage while willing yourself to shed no more tears. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked as he moved into your tent fully.

“Tears of pleasure.” you waved him off, doing your best to sound lustful.

“You’re a terrible liar, my sweet.” he said as he sat opposite from you but still giving you space. 

You sighed, rolling your eyes, “Why do you care anyways?” you cringed internally, that sounded harsher than you intended. 

Astarion’s eyes softened a bit, “Because I care for you.” he said honestly. 

“Because I’m your blood bag,” you scoffed. “Worry not, I’m well enough for you to feed so… get on with it I guess.” you said as you tucked your hair behind your ear, leaning in for him to chomp down on your pulse point. 

Yet you felt nothing but the cold night air. Your eyes found his after a moment of hesitation. “What?” you said.

“You are so much more than food.” he said, a guilty look on his face. Is that all you thought of him? Somebody using you? “Why do you sleep with them?” he asked suddenly, trying to connect the dots in his head.

Your eyes widened, “It’s none of your business.” you said, your voice wavering. “I like sex, so why not?” your eyes avoided his, afraid he would see the truth in them. 

“Terrible liar.” he whispered, his foot tapping against your knee trying to get your attention. 

“Because it makes it all hurt a little less!” you yelled, his consistent questioning pushing you over the edge. “Because it fills the fucking void somebody put inside me. They used me, they hurt me. So if I can be desired, even for a moment, I will.” you felt tears stream down your cheeks as Astarion watched you, his mouth slightly agape. “This horrible feeling sits inside me like tar. Black and oozing and there is nothing I can do to fix it. I sleep with them because I want to know I can still be desired if I cannot be loved.”

“Who said you cannot be loved?” he said, leaning forward to wipe a tear from your face with his thumb.

“I… I just can’t… nobody can love me after what they did to me. Taking my body, playing with it while I just laid there… frozen. I thought they loved me…” you mumbled, memories from your past flooding you. 

“I love you.” he said simply.

Your head whipped up to gaze at him, “You don’t even know what love is Astarion.” you turned away from him so he couldn’t see you cry. 

“On the contrary… I have seen lust. I did it for 200 years. But this ache I have inside me, the longing I have for you and only you. That, I believe, is love. And… I like to imagine you feel the same way.” Astarion put a hand on your shoulder, moving slowly when you initially flinched away. 

“How can you love me? Aren’t you disgusted?” you whimpered. You wanted to believe him so badly, but how could you? You were made to be used. 

Astarion shifted so he could see you as he tilted your quivering chin upwards. “For sleeping with others? Darling I have bedded thousands.” he rubbed your cheek reassuringly. 

“That’s different. You didn’t have a choice.” you said, your voice coming out strained.

“I would argue that you didn’t either. When someone violates you like that… I’ve seen it go two ways. You overindulge, or you isolate. Both are natural reactions. Yours was to try and find solace, penance in others. None of it is shameful… it’s just… how things are I suppose.” he said, struggling a bit to find the right words but you felt the connection he was trying to make. 

“Each of them took a little piece of my soul… I’m not sure how much is left of me to give.” you shuddered in a breath, trying to calm yourself. 

“I don’t want your soul… All I ask is your heart, in exchange for mine.” he smiled at you, moving to hold your hand while he cupped your cheek. You had never seen eyes with so much sincerity and kindness. 

“I… I’d like that.” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his for a moment before your eyes opened once again with worry. “Do we have to…” you motioned between the two of you and the bedroll.

“Not until you want to. Completely, freely.” he nodded at you.

“And if I never want to?” you asked cautiously.

“Then I will love you all the same.” he leaned in slightly. He could feel your breath on his lips but waited for you to close the gap. 

You kissed him softly. He could feel the fear and apprehension in your kiss. While you felt the patience and adoration in his.

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Naboo's Note:

Hello lovelies! Hope ya'll like this one as well. Two in one night? What a deal lol I really like this one. Is it a bit of a trauma dump? Yes but writing is how I get it out and Astarion would 10000% comfort me through any of it. We love a supportive king. What a guy. Anyways! - be safe everyone, see ya'll soon!

[ineadhyn]

Playing Astarion good aligned and what that meant for his character - a completely unnecessary but fascinating analysis

So the idea was: entirely good aligned Astarion origin playthrough

However I can't just do that, it has to fit into his character somehow. It has to make sense to me, so I did analyze and justify and this is what I came up and how it is going:

Normally Astarion escapes Cazador gets tadpoled and is a menace, a violent bastard who lashes out, barely contains how hurt he is and tries to get people to like him the only way he knows: through sex.

What if Astarion is the main character? The leader? If he figures people would like him if he is good or at least pretends to be. He notices quickly that people approve of good deeds and oh, how good the praise and gratitude feels. So Astarion tries being good for a change. People are easy to believe he's genuine because they want him to be, especially good souls like Karlach.

He still hooks up with Lae'zel, but figures quickly that his body is far less powerful than his arrow in the right throat. It's not worth it getting on his back anymore. Also he has set his eyes on the wizard (Gale was very suppportive about Astarion's vampirism).

As Act one closes he is too deep into the being the good person to drop the act now. Halsin is with him and he would annihilate Astarion if he ever found out how much he actually loathes the tiefling party. No, he is in this now, he has to carry on.

Entering the Shadow Curse and meeting Jaheira he remembers his own hero: Drizzt do'Urden and, now expecting more great things from himself and having to live up to the expectations of others, he tries to become Drizzt. His most asked question to himself is: wwdd - what would Drizzt do? It becomes his compass for decision making.

Gale finds himself in love with Astarion and Astarion is very pleased about that, a bit of genuine softness feels nice and also, hello, there's delicious hunger for power hiding under these purple robes amongst other things.

Now we come to the core problem this version of Astarion has: His heroism is an act, a mask. He has picked it up so quickly he never had the chance to be terrible and start to heal. He is as full of fear as he was at the beginning of the game and desperate for protection. He's reaching for every straw that will give him an advantage not caring for himself in a healthy way. He's ready to make sacrifices. He bit Araj.

He encourages Gale to go for the crown. He even toyed with the tadpole's power. Not ready yet to give up his beauty and become half-illithid but maybe after the spawn attack he panics so much he'll consume it. (I wonder if Cazador reacts to that, seeing his spawn like that, his beauty ruined) What a powerful protection against being sexually abused again. Gale will still love him, no matter his appearance.

And most likely he will ascend and pretend it didn't affect him. He needs to keep the mask up, can't risk to fail against the Absolute and reveal the weak spawn he (thinks) he really is underneath it. He needs the praise to keep coming, he needs to protect himself and his lover and Gale needs to protect him. So ... god Gale is also very much possible.

I am now entering Act 3 and will keep this updated because it is an unusual but very fascinating path to me. Astarion, glowing on the outside, the hero of Baldur's Gate, the good vampire, the one people trust - but on the inside he's more rotten than ever, more afraid than ever. The only real thing about him is his relationship with Gale, he genuinely loves him, which sadly makes it worse for both of them.

Note that I do feel bad for him, but am too intrigued to stop.

Here he is, drizzting his way through my game. Nailing the hero pose, just as he nailed the smile when he lured a target:

[yandere-sins]

i do love to see your view on shadowheart as a stalker. like i think she would really be trying her best to look normal meanwhile her brain is down BAD

I totally agree! She's just so well-adjusted to the role already without trying. Her name screams stalker yandere already, and I think the worst thing is her pining for her darling so massively that she doesn't realize how much it's changing her until it's already too late!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

You get along with everyone, and it comes to a head at the tiefling/goblin party. You saved Shadowheart before, have shown her nothing but kindness and understanding even when she opened up about herself, and after traveling for days you have grown more comfortable around each other. So when you come to her—naturally, she's the first step on your journey around camp—Shadowheart invites you for a drink in private.

She's not sure what got into her (probably the wine), but you look so dashing, cleaned up, and grinning from the merry atmosphere. Hard times bring people together, but what she wants is a closeness that gives her goosebumps to think about. She really shouldn't. Every fiber of her being is trained not to want someone to get too close, yet she wants you. Wants you to know more than you should. Be vulnerable around you, even though she knows she probably can't.

Her inner conflict doesn't stop it from hurting like shit when you hesitate, smiling sheepishly before saying you'd rather hang out with everyone, but maybe later you can come over for a cup, or she could join the group. Shadowheart isn't sure she ever felt something as painful as your rejection. Whatever she wants from you, you don't want it.

Not yet, at least.

It's foolish and against everything she stands for. She wants to be tough and dutiful, deadly and unbothered by feelings of the heart. But she can't, not even in the days after the party. Because you are just so stunning, even bloody and sullied, still smiling like the sun even when you almost tumble off a cliff, thanking her profusely for saving you. Shadowheart wasn't trying to be helpful. She just happened to be there and grab you. Nothing more.

Certainly, she's not spending her days watching you. Always being together and traveling makes it hard to be a secretive stalker, and everyone in camp notices her constant and longing stares at your back—except you. Shadowheart picks up things too heavy for you to carry (before throwing them into Karlach's pouch) or is the first to volunteer to spend time with you gathering materials or combing through the loot. She's also the defacto map enthusiast ever since she met you, helping you read the map. Anyone else in the group could keep you guys on track, but she squeezes in between you and whoever is trying to get close to you. She's better at it than the others anyway. You should rely only on her.

Shadowheart is still telling herself it's all for the sake of getting rid of the tadpole.

She keeps you company in the evening, helps you repair equipment, and reads the books you two found, searching for hints on how to get rid of the brain worms. It's hard for Shadowheart to concentrate most nights, however, your expressions so amusing and delightful as you pick through languages you can barely read, misinterpreting them and getting offended. You even make her laugh with you, and you two bond over her translating the texts correctly for you.

Sometimes, your hands touch, or your knees bump into each other. Her heart makes a leap so far that she's afraid it might land in your lap. But you draw away before anything more can happen, and she feels emptier than ever as the awkwardness lays over you two.

She's not sure how to get closer to you. Shadowheart thought it would be enough to travel with you and spend some nights next to each other by the fire. But she's beginning to lose sleep over the thoughts of you—your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes shine—playing on repeat in her head. The feeling of warmth from your body from where you two touched and the way you clung to her when she saved you from a miscalculated jump are burned into her very soul.

Having to resort to unsavory things like stealing your shirts to sleep with and forcing interactions by giving you tasks to fulfill for her, knowing you won't say no, are all Shadowheart can do to keep you close to her and herself sane. She'd prefer a more natural relationship, but you are always hesitant to take it further for some reason. Even though she gives you the signs, you seem undecided. As if you had a choice. 

It makes her even more wary about the others traveling with you two.

Yet, if all she can be is your shadow, so be it. She doesn't mind trailing after you, always in reach but never close enough. It makes her bare her teeth towards anyone approaching you, the hairs on the back of her neck standing when someone dares to touch you, many, like Astarion, doing it just to taunt her. She's like the wolves she hates the most; hungry and territorial. Maybe she'll snap one day, and who knows what she'll do to you then.

But as long as you haven't rejected her completely, she'll be okay.

She'll be okay, she tells herself, even as she pins you to the ground, feeling completely mad with desire. But even with that tinge of fear and hurt in your eyes, you are still the most radiant and beautiful thing she's ever seen. You're her sun, and she can hardly stop herself from wanting to devour you so you may push away the dark shadows of obsession her heart harbors.

[parkkiablah]

odd request but could you do a zevlor x human reader (age gap? i think YES)

in which hes a little insecure about the reader not wanting to be seen with a tiefling/knowing his species is despised and being afraid you‘ll hate him after people start to treat you differently for your relationship to him

then maybe comforting him and assuring him he deserves all the love <333

Judgement (Zevlor x human reader)

(Thank you so much for your request! I hope you like it and enjoy reading 🧡)

When you woke up that morning you already felt something was missing before you even opened your eyes. The bed was unusually cold and there was no tail wrapped around your leg.

Opening your eyes and pushing your legs out of bed you got up, rubbing your hands over your face to get the tired feeling off of you. When you walked out of the bedroom you noticed him putting on his shoes, his bag with him he was obviously leaving to somewhere.

"Where are you going?", you asked. Your voice still tired from just waking up, your hair probably a mess and most of your clothes still gathering on the floor somewhere in your bedroom.

"I just wanted to buy something for breakfast, but the plan was to be back before you wake up.", he said smiling and walked over to you. His hand moved to rest on your waist, his lips finding yours.

"Let me join you, I'll just get dressed.", you said and quickly searched for your clothes.

He leaned against the door frame waiting for you until you were dressed, smile on his face while he watched you.

Once you were done you stood before him, taking his hand.

"Lets go."

Hand in hand you walked towards the stores, enjoying the feel of palms pressing against each other, both a smile on your face.

Thats until an old woman in front of you dropped her bag when she saw you two. Zevlor reached to pick it up instantly, offering help whenever he got the chance to, when she suddenly started screaming.

"Get your hands off my bag, devil!", she screamed. "And you better get your hand off of them too! You should be ashamed, obviously manipulating someone so much younger to be with you!"

She pulled on your arm, Zevlor's hand instantly fell from yours and you looked at him in shock. He was too stunned to even say something, to even move.

You freed your arm from her grip, moving closer to Zevlor again.

"He is no devil and I assure you he did not manipulate me. You should know better than to judge so easily.", you shouted angrily, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along.

He followed you but he seemed so deep in thought you weren't sure if he lost his mind on the way.

When you got back home and the door closed behind you was when he finally did speak up.

"We should end this.", he said, looking at the floor with no emotion showing on his face. His face was blank and you just wished to be able to look into his mind.

"What?"

You looked at him in disbelieve. Was he really considering ending your relationship just over some strange woman?

"She wasn't wrong. I am a tiefling, no human and I am much older than you are."

"I am aware, so why do you want to end this?", you asked him.

You knew who he was and that was exactly who you fell in love with.

"You should not be seen with someone like me."

"Oh, you mean someone caring and gorgeous and reliable and strong..-"

"No, I mean someone old and with horns, tail and claws. Someone who you will be judged for.", he said as he has turned his back to you.

"You know, you see the problem while I see the solution it offers as well. Tieflings live longer than humans do, so the problem you have with our age difference just solved itself.", you walked closer to him, your hand reaching for his shoulder, trying to offer some comfort to him.

"It doesn't change the judgement you will face because of me.", he turned just enough to look at you, his face showing how conflicted he felt. He wanted to be with you but he didn't want to bring you down. He didn't want people to look down at you for being with him.

"I don't care for people's judgement. I'd rather be by your side and get judged then be by anyone elses side."

"You don't know how it is to be constantly judged wherever you go and whatever you do."

"You are right, I don't know how it is. But I don't want you to face it alone anymore."

His eyes found yours, affection showing through and yet he was still hesitant.

"I know you always want the best for me, but I assure you that you are who I want to be with. You are the best for me and I would rather be judged for who I love, than act like I love someone else just to please other peoples views.", you told him. Your hand moved to the side of his face, gently caressing his cheek.

"You are choosing a life with people staring at you and whispering behind your back. They will treat you very differently just for your hand in mine. Is that really what you wish for?", he asked you, his face concerned.

"You are all I ever wished for and if being judged is the price for it, I will gladly pay it."

"Gods, you don't know what you are getting into.", he said, his hand resting above yours on his cheek.

"I don't need to know, all that matters is that we go through this together. You deserve to be loved and I don't mind our differences. Our hearts beat the same rhythm and thats all that I need."

Your hand rests on his chest and you stand on your tiptoes to push your lips onto his.

He instantly melts under your touch, lips softly pressing against yours, his hand moving around your waist to hold you close.

"Thank you.", he said once you broke the kiss.

"For what?", you asked. Both of your hands rested on his shoulders.

"For reassuring me."

"Nothing to thank me for. I will reassure you as many times as you need me to.", you said smiling. "And you know I can be very stubborn."

[momolady]

Avi the Tiefling

Do you like modern monsters? Do you enjoy reading the childhood friends to lovers trope? Do you like good banter? Maybe do you often enjoy a red skinned tiefling? Well lucky you, this is the perfect story to enjoy during these hard times.

Female Reader x Male Monster ====================================

During high school you had to transfer due to your mother’s job. It was hard; you went from having a really close friend circle to having no one at all. You were a wallflower, a silent onlooker to everything happening in that new and strange land. You tried to make friends but it was awkward. You were pretty smart and a rumor got started that you’d do people’s homework for them. You got absorbed into a rather strange clique, made of some of the popular kids at school who were on the mean side. You were lonely and afraid so you sort of just fell into it.

Midway through this new school year you were at a breaking point. This supposed friend group of yours was taking advantage of your kindness, but you had been too afraid to step in and do anything about it. One day, you had broken down in one of the bathrooms, unaware that someone was hiding in one of the stalls behind you. You sobbed and cried, vented your frustrations to the terrified girl in the mirror, and left.

Later that same afternoon, as you were having lunch with your group, this tiefling appeared. You knew about him and heard rumors spread about him. His name was Avi and he had a reputation of being a wild animal.

He had messy, short black hair with two different shaped horns. One was corkscrew and straight up, the other curved outwards. He had deep burgundy skin with dark freckles along his cheeks and shoulders, but it was his eyes that were strange. They were wide almond shapes that always seemed on high alert. They gazed at you, making you shake to your core. They reminded you of a wild animal. He approached the table and sat down right next to you, shoving someone else out of the way.

“So, I heard you are a real smarty pants.” he grinned at you, leaning over across the table to block the others from you. “What sort of material are those kinds of pants made out of eh?”

“I uh-” You answered shakily. “I don’t know?”

Avi laughed, almost sounding maniacal. “It’s a joke, smarty pants. Get with it!” He slapped your back and inched in a bit closer. “So tell me, whatcha eating there?” He went on like this until lunch was over.

After that, he started appearing wherever you were, hanging around you, talking to you. He found the strangest reasons to talk to you. Whether it was about video games or cartoons, he always seemed excited to bring something up.

One of the guys of your ‘Friend group’ told him to “Fuck off, weirdo,”

The look in Avi’s eyes changed. They had always seemed wide and strange, but now they looked vicious. He snapped his neck around to look at the guy. “What’d you say?”

“I said, fuck off. You fucking weirdo.”

“How come?” Avi stepped away from you. “What’s it matter to you?”

The guy smirked back at his friends, you knew he was eager to push Avi around. “That’s our nerd. Get your own.”

Avi popped his neck and scoffed. “Oh I see. My mistake. I thought she was just some cute girl up for grabs. I didn't realize she was a nerd.”

Your guts churned but you remained silent. You ducked your head down, your eyes already brimming with tears.

Avi got up into the guy's face and grinned. “How about we fight over her.”

“What?” the guy huffed and others from the group began to join.

Avi’s grin grew and his eyes got wider. “You heard me. I’ll fight you for her. Unless, that is, you wanna just hand her off to me. It might be safer that way.” He tilted his head and popped his neck again.

“Just fuck off, you freak!” Avi was shoved back, but that didn’t bother him at all. Avi struck, clocking the guy in the jaw and starting a fight. Both were suspended for a week, but your friend group began avoiding you to get away from him.

“It’ll be okay,” Avi said one day. His face was bruised from the fight. There was even a cut along his forehead that would leave a scar. “I’ll take care of you, smarty pants.”

Something about this feral cat didn’t seem so feral anymore. “What do you mean?” You asked.

Avi looked at you with those strange eyes of his and he grinned. “What do you think it means?”

You sniffled and looked down at the floor. “Why’d you do that?”

“The fight? Isn’t it obvious?” Avi tilted his head to the side. “You were miserable, so it was worth it.”

You rubbed your eyes. “What?”

Avi shrugged as he folded a piece of paper this way and that. “That day you were crying in the bathroom, I was hiding in one of the stalls.”

“That was the girl’s bathroom!”

Avi shrugged. “Yeah, and?” He smirked at you. He inched in close and put his arm around you. “You ain’t got a thing to worry about, smarty pants. From now on, I’ll keep you safe. No one will use you like that again while I’m around.”

You ducked your head down and nodded. It felt nice to hear someone say they’d protect you. After how long, you felt so lonely and afraid in a crowd.

Ever since that day, he’s kept that promise. He became your best friend and was always by your side. Despite his reputation, he was really sweet and fun. He brought you out of your shell.

The two of you now share an apartment together, which you have done since college. Back then, Avi worked as a mechanic in order to pay for an apartment while you went to school. You’ve been working hard to pay back his kindness since then.

“Hey, smarty pants.” You looked up from your book to see Avi looking over the top of the chair at you. “What are you doing?”

“Reading, why?” You placed a bookmark into the seam and closed the book. “Are you bored or something?”

Avi smirked, “or something.”

You smirked and set your book aside, standing up as Avi stepped aside. “Well, what did you have in mind?”

Avi rubbed his hands together as his grin grew. “I was thinking we could go out for a bit. Just drive a little, maybe do some shopping. I just wanna get out for a little bit. We haven’t gone on one of our drives in a long time.”

“That could be fun. I was thinking we’d have a nice quiet day at home, but I suppose we can do that anytime.” You looked him up and down. “Is there something you’re wanting to do?”

Avi’s cheeks darkened. “No. I just wanted to hang out with you is all.”

You smiled at him. “Aww, well aren’t you cute?”

Avi glanced away, his smirk softening at the edges. “I have my moments, pants.”

You took hold of his hand and kissed his cheek. “Okay, let me get ready and we can head out.”

Avi grinned, tightening his hold on your hand. “Will you wear that cute red top I like?” His free hand tugged at the hem of your tee shirt.

You arched a brow. “You want me to look good for you?”

“Not that you don’t all the time, I just thought...I’d wear those pants you like on me!” Avi was blushing and floundering. It was so cute you could barely stand it. You kissed his cheek, standing on tiptoes to reach.

“I love you,” you murmured to him.

Avi sighed and relaxed. “I love you too.”

You got dressed and wore the red top he liked. It had a low cut neckline with criss crossed strands across the chest. Avi wore the pants you liked on him. He had such nice, long legs, and these pants really showed that off, including his small, cute butt.

“So, which way are we going?” You asked him.

“I dunno, let's find out.” You got into the car, which was an old model that Avi had completely rebuilt himself. Back during school he had started working on it, and the first time he drove it was when he picked you up for prom. He’d worked on it since then, making it something really nice and special.

That prom you had agreed to go together as friends, but before the night was over you and Avi were much more than that. You danced together, you left before prom was over, and drove all night until you passed out in the backseat.

“It’s such a nice day, it seems like a shame to just sit inside.” Avi looked so proud behind the wheel.

“You’re right, what was I thinking?” You chuckled. You placed your hand on his thigh, slowly rubbing up and down. Avi flinched and glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“Whatcha doing, pants? Looking for quarters?”

You shrugged, slowly moving your hand further in. “What? You think I’m doing something?”

Avi looked down at his lap then back out at the road. “You’re up to no good. No good I tell ya.”

You scooted closer to him. “What, me?”

Avi bit his lip, trying to keep his focus on the road. His hips wiggled as your hand squeezed onto his thigh. He moaned softly in the back of his throat as your fingers kneaded into him. You kissed his neck slowly, feeling him tremble under your touch. Avi chuckled, turning to steal a quick kiss.

“When you said a cozy day at home, I thought you meant something else.” Avi rolled his hips, adjusting them to accommodate your advances.

You ran your fingers along the growing bulge in his pants. “I like you, what can I say?” You unzipped his pants. “Sometimes I just can’t keep my hands off you.”

Avi chewed on his bottom lip as you grabbed him through the fabric of his underwear. “Dammit, pants.”

You kissed his jaw and giggled. “What? No good?”

Avi’s wild eyes looked soft and sweet. People often said he had crazy eyes, but you knew what a kitten he really was. “Too good. You make me happy and horny. That’s dangerous.”

“You know exactly what to say.” You tugged down his underwear, pulling his cock out. You licked your palm and wrapped your fingers around him, jerking him gently as he continued to drive. His cock had this wonderful curve to it, and the glans were nice and wide at the top. You smiled sweetly at him as you stroked him, his pulse throbbing against your fingers.

“Whatcha thinking?” Avi moaned.

“Oh, I dunno.” You glanced down to his cock. “Lots of things.”

Avi swallowed. “I’d like to know, pants. Tell me.”

You bit your lip. “Well, for one, I think you’re very sexy right now. Also thinking about how much I want to make you come.”

Avi whistled. “You’re so sweet to think of me.”

You kissed his cheek then ducked your head down. You kissed his cock from head to base, dragging your tongue back up and he moaned. He put a hand on the back of your neck, kneading as you teased him.

“Ah! Fuck-” Avi snarled. “That’s my pants.”

You tease the tip with your tongue then pushed the tip between your lips. You sucked and slurped, tasting that first dribble of precum. You moaned against him, taking more of him into your mouth. Avi hissed, gripping his fingers around your neck tighter.

You bobbed your head slowly, taking your time with him. He throbbed against your tongue and you took the tip all the way to your throat. You choked, pulling up and slurping spit back into your mouth.

“You feel so good,” Avi pants.

You chuckled, stroking him as you leaned in to kiss him. “So do you, big boy.” You went back down, gobbling him up again. Avi’s moans and grunts filled your ears and you felt him make a sharp turn. Moments later, he pulled off the road and parked the car behind some trees.

You giggled as you lifted your head. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“I ain’t a young man anymore, I can’t focus when you do that to me.” He kissed you hungrily, rolling his tongue around in your mouth. He bit your neck and shoulder as his hand reached up under your shirt and unhooked your bra with ease.

“You could have fooled me, you’re acting like you did in high school.” You took off your bra and tossed it into the backseat.

“I didn’t know what I was doing in high school,” Avi’s long tail flicked behind him. He pushed his hair back from his face and looked down at your shirt. “That’s what makes this so much better.” He tugged the neckline of your shirt down so your breasts were exposed.

“Is this why you like this shirt?”

“Same reason you like my pants so much, pants.” He kicked off his pants entirely. “Now, take yours off.”

You lifted your hips and wiggled from your pants, tossing them to the floorboard. Avi pressed your back against the door and thrust his hand down inside your panties. He kissed you hard as his fingers found you wet and warm.

“Oh fuck, pants. Did sucking that cock turn you on this much?” He teased you.

You scoffed and tangled your fingers into his messy hair. “It always does.” You had grown a favor for it during college. Avi worked to afford the apartment while you went to school. You had started giving him blowjobs regularly as a way to thank him. To your surprise and his pleasure, you found a talent for it. Not to mention a deep appreciation for it. Who knew the shy wallflower would turn into this?

Avi kissed you so sweetly it almost took your breath away. “What was that?” You murmured.

“Thank you for loving a weirdo like me,” he murmured. “I know I’m not much to look at, and you’ve put up with me all these years. It still amazes me that you and I are like this.”

You kissed him again and wrapped your arms around him. “You’re what I want to look at. You’re my weirdo, always have been, always will be.” Your heart was beating so fast. “I love you, get over it.” You pushed him down onto the bench seat and climbed on top of him. His eyes grew wide in awe as he looked up at you.

“Oh my, pants, what are you going to do to me?” He tittered.

You smirked, easing down on top of him. You took his cock inside, both of you moaning as he went inside deep. That wonderful curve hit exactly where you needed it to and you threw your head back as you rode him. His hands wrapped around your hips, holding you tight as you moved. His tail curled up around your leg and was pulsing squeezes. His expression was pure bliss, lips parted, eyes focused upon you. His breath synched in rhythm with your movements, gasping and panting with each heavy thrust.

You pressed your hands to the roof of the car for more leverage, thrusting down upon him as that curve ground into you. You cried out, panting hard as cars drove by on the road. Maybe they could see you, maybe not.

“I’m gonna come!” Avi whimpered. “Oh fuck, oh fuck-”

You bent down, kissing him and biting his lip. He thrust upwards, slapping hard into your thighs. He snarled and moaned into your ear, making desperate sounds as his climax grew closer.

“I’m gonna come! I’m gonna come!” He repeated over and over into your ear.

You kissed him, moaning against his lips. “Right there! Right there! Oh fuck!” You cried out.

Avi flipped you over, hiking up your hips and entering you from behind, he went harder and faster this way, pressing himself deep inside you. You moaned into the seat, shaking as you felt yourself draw to the end.

“I’m coming I’m-” Avi’s voice choked off, his body twitched, his tail coiled tighter on your leg. He spasmed inside and your legs twitched. You stretched and kicked, crying out as the heat from him flowed into you. Your body arched and you struggled to keep your voice in check. Avi panted, slowly slouching down until he was laid right on top of you.

“That was so damned good,” he breathed.

You chuckled and rolled over. His face planted between your breasts. “That was. I still can’t feel my toes.”

Avi kissed you then glanced out the windows. “We should probably get out of here before this seems suspicious.” He tugged down his shirt. “Where’d my undies go.”

“Good question, what’d you do with mine.” You then flinched as you felt his come dripping down your thigh. “Do you mind cleaning up your mess?”

Avi chuckled, taking a napkin from the dashboard and wiping you up as you grabbed clothes from the back seat. “I really did leave a mess behind.” He kissed your ass then slipped his fingers up inside you. “A big mess.”

“Easy there,” you huffed. “I’m still-” You bit your lip, struggling as Avi continued to finger you. “Oh fuck!”

“I knew you had another one in there.” Avi moved his fingers inside you, his thumb caressing your clit.

“Fuck, fuck-” You cried out, trembling as another small climax pulsed through your body.

Avi chuckled in triumph, leaning down to lick you clean. His moans against your folds sent tremors through your spine. You could barely sit up straight after that.

Avi put his pants back on while you still held yours in your hand. “Let’s go on down a little ways and find a nice place to eat.”

“I wouldn’t mind a drink,” you said with a gulp.

Avi smiled dreamily at you. “I love you, pants.”

You leaned into his side, snuggling up to him on the seat. “I love you too.”

[commander-krios]

Get to Know Your Tav!

I was tagged by @charmedslytherin and @my-favourite-zhent, thank you, my friends!

Tagging: @starknstarwars, @eluvisen, @cr-noble-writes, @antivanbrandy, @thegoblinwitchqueen and @jbnonsensework

Juniper

What is your tav’s….

favorite weapon?

Her words. She's witty, sarcastic, quick with her words and most people are more afraid of what she'll say than what she'll actually do. Her ability to talk herself out of trouble is her best and most useful weapon.

style of combat?

Juniper is a mix of a wild magic sorcerer and a bard. She uses her lute to help focus her magic but it doesn't always work and the wild magic surges are usually not hurtful, but more annoying than anything else. Sometimes, they come in handy. But mostly, she uses spells.

most prized possession?

Her lute. It was a gift from her father after she left bard school, and it goes with her everywhere. It also has her second most prized possession too: A brooch made by Dammon given to her by Rolan with a warding spell on it. She has the brooch inlaid into her lute's fretboard so she can keep both close to her.

deepest desire?

To find a place where she belongs. She grew up in Neverwinter, had a loving family, but she's always been an outsider in many circles, mostly because of her and her mother's reputation for being wild magic sorcerers. But she finds that in Baldur's Gate, with her friends and Rolan.

guilty pleasure?

Romance novels. She keeps a collection of them in her room in Ramazith's Tower, Cal borrows them frequently. (So does Rolan, but he'd never admit that).

best-kept secret?

The origin of how tiefling entered her family. Her mother's grandfather, a high ranking human who lived in Daggerford, made a deal with Raphael to bring magic (which had been lost decades ago) back to his family. He wanted power, he didn't care how to get it. When his granddaughter, Elara, was born, she was born with great powers but she was also born as a tiefling. No one knows the truth about this besides Elara, her immediate family, and Juniper.

greatest strength?

Her compassion. Many people wouldn't think that was a strength, but she loves people, loves life, and is willing to make sure everyone has the means to achieve their goals. She goes out of her way to help people, to make them feel good and happy and loved.

fatal flaw?

Also her compassion. Sometimes, people take advantage of it. Sometimes, it gets her into trouble that she has to fight out of. But she refuses to change because of it.

favorite smell?

Lilacs. They were her favorite flowers in Neverwinter and Rolan tries to find the flowers or even perfumes with the scent for her as gifts.

favorite spell or cantrip?

Vicious Mockery

pet peeve?

People interrupting her or someone else who is talking.

bad habit?

She tends to turn herself into a cat (or set herself on fire) quite a bit. She doesn't mean it, it's just something that happens thanks to her magic.

hidden talent?

She can also cook. Her father taught her many amazing recipes, her best being his sweet rolls with simple syrup.

leisure activity?

Reading. It's her favorite thing to do when not working and she'll sit around for hours reading if she's found a particularly excellent book.

favorite drink?

Wine made from flowers and berries. She doesn't drink often but it's one of the only indulgences she splurges on.

comfort food?

Sweet rolls with simple syrup. It reminds her of home.

favorite person(s)?

She has many favorite people. Obviously her father, Feanor, is one of her top favorites. He always provided for her, loved her, helped her find her love of music.

Rolan. She loves him more than she's ever loved anyone before and while she drives him insane, he can't help but enjoy it.

Karlach, her bestie, her sister, her favorite friend.

Cal, Lia, Lakrissa, Alfira, and the rest of the tieflings. They become her family in Baldur's Gate.

The tiefling kids, particularly Ide, Mirkon, Matthis, Silfy, and Arabella.

favored display of affection (platonic and/or romantic)?

Hugs, hand holding, kissing (on cheek for platonic, lips for romantic).

If you're her significant other, she'll lean on you, brush her hands along your shoulders, lips linger on your cheek, fingers play with your hair.

fondest childhood memory?

Waking up early in her home in Neverwinter to the smell of hot tea and warm sweet rolls, sitting in front of the fire while a snowstorm rages outside, listening to her father play the flute.

free-response! Is there anything else about your Tav you'd like to share?

Juniper is chaotic, but well intentioned. She loves life and is willing to make everyone happy, even at the expense of herself (much to Rolan's grumbling)

[neofeliis]

Death's Eyes

Pairing: F!DurgexAstarion

Summary: Death walked side by side with Astarion every day as a vampire spawn, it was only a matter of time before he met the child of murder. In the worlds both of them are confined to, it's not unlikely the two would find each other more than once in the underbelly of the city. What was unlikely, was just how far those coincidental meetings would go.

Note: I have NOT been able to get this out of my head. I love a good "We knew each other before and then SURPRISE amnesia" trope. Enjoy!

Read on Ao3 here

----

Blood covered every inch of the young tiefling the first time he saw her.  The first fingers of dawn crawled across the damp cobbles of the city streets, placing an impenetrable line between him and the dizzying elixir that was like to go to waste.  All the sense in the world told him it was past time to retreat back to the palace for the day, but harsh as the lower city could be it was not every day something this brutal made it to the light of day.

By all accounts, she looked like a child, standing stock still outside a house somehow quieter than death.  With a sight like this, someone somewhere should have been fussing over whatever scene she had stepped out of.  Most of all the youngling, who should have been screaming, sobbing.  Afraid of whatever had dressed her in crimson.

But not a sound escaped the girl, and not a single tear fell from her wide, unfocused eyes.  Shock, he mused, pushing his luck with every second he remained on the spot.  That was the logical conclusion, yet something in the scene scratched at his mind.  Something, other.  Her hands did not shake, her tail did not writhe.  Everything he knew of tieflings told him their tails were oversized mood rings, and hers hung limp on the stones behind her.

Astarion was perilously close to losing all darkness when her eyes flicked up, meeting his like she had known exactly where to look. The cold that twinged just beneath his skin and prickled his flesh rooted him to the spot a moment longer than he should dare. Hunger. Ravenous, greedy hunger festered there. 

Those eyes, dark enough to not betray their color, would not soon leave the elf’s memories. Not an ounce of panic worked its way onto her features, and he wondered if she was looking right through him. Instead her mouth moved to speak into the fading dark, but the sound barely carried over the breeze that swept between them.  What she had actually said would flit in and out of his memories in the weeks to come as he recalled the scent that assaulted him with that wind, but he was never quite sure if he heard her right.

“Father says I'm not allowed to like them..I liked them.”

*

The smell of bloodbath visited Astarion a few more times over the years, but he would not seek it out again as he had that one night.  The pressure to bring back warm bodies for his master had only increased, and he’d had his share of stealing children.  He needed living souls, and if he knew what was good for him he would steer clear of the stink of death.

Still, he kept an ear out for the rumors that followed. A string of sporadic murders uncharacteristically brutal in nature kept the underbelly of the city on edge. The more there were, the more color the rumors took on. A serial killer, a demon, a Bhaalist insurgence.

He did everything in his power to not roll his eyes listening to his latest target, a half elf woman, prattle on about her own theories. She was shifty, unable to hold his stare, and his charms along with the alcohol were not working as easily as they usually did. Whatever this is, is making my job a lot more difficult, he thought bitterly, trying to school his glare into something cool and indifferent.

“--but so many of them are families,” she continued, having barely stopped since he made the mistake of asking what she thought. “I heard from my brother, who heard from his friend Cyllo that many of them were people who were known to take in strays off the street. That this was what they got for bein’ bleedin’ hearts. But my brother says he bets it's some baby-faced halfling from the Bhaalist underground pretending to be a street urchin.”

Astarion could only stare, and she took his silence as an invitation to keep talking. 

He went home empty handed that night, and took lashings in excess for it. 

*

It would be some time before he saw the tiefling girl again.  She was somewhere in her teens, by his best estimate, when he found those eyes once more in the dark. Prowling these alleys was second nature, and anyone with sense knew not to be caught alone in the way she was, sitting without a visible concern against the wall. Nearly everything about her had changed enough to make recognition near impossible for someone whose only job was to pile innumerable bodies in the palace foyer.  But the eyes had it; that was all Astarion needed to see to remember the red child outside the quiet, dark home all those years ago.

Blood ran in swathes over her arms, like paint strokes he thought, coating her hands entirely.  A few splashes kissed on her face, but the rest of her was notably cleaner than the first time. It seemed she had grown out of the wide-eyed shock that held her in her youth, and it had instead morphed into mirthless exhaustion, and something familiar he couldn't place. She looked as though sleep had not found her in weeks.  Hunger? Maybe? Or was it mania?

This time, the moon hung high and bright in the night sky, and dawn was a long ways off.  This time, he could take her, if he wanted.  The shadows sat darker on nights like these, and the elf settled into the comfort of cover as his hungry stare found its way again to her fresh accessories.  What design of misfortune is yours to be such close friends already with bloodshed, little one?

Again, her eyes found his with sharp precision. His muscles locked, only because he was certain he’d been hidden entirely.  He glared, cursing his own carelessness, and considered again making her his target for the evening.  For several long, twisting moments, hunger clouded his thoughts.  The blood was right there, blood he could accidentally have for himself before bringing her home. An absentminded cleaning of his fingers after touching her hands. Master need not ever know, it could be something just for him.

Astarion took a single step forward, and without the tiefling moving a muscle, a deep sense of foreboding fell over him like ice water.  In an instant the murderous hunger vacated his body and with a single curl of her lip seemed to wrap itself around her instead.  Like a loyal pet.  His mind shifted to acute, cold clarity and he blanched a step. When recalling why he went after different prey that night, he would remember the shadows around her shifting as though alive, and swearing he heard a goading voice speaking somewhere near her. 

*

Forcing down the rats never seemed to get easier.  Once, after a year of starvation, he was convinced they would taste divine, but the disappointment for that came and went quickly.  The best he could manage were fresh caught on the streets when Cazador was merciful enough to rescind his “you only eat what I give you” rule for a night or two.  When it came down to the carcasses that were provided, and the one he could catch himself, the difference was marginal.  But all he had in life was what he could eke out in the margins.

Blood and viscera dripped from his chin, his body hunched like a feral creature over the drained animal in his hands, when the smell of death not of his making crept into the filthy alley.  Death was no stranger, not on these streets, but this blend felt far more familiar than it should.

The hair on the back of Astarion’s neck prickled, and a snarl rumbled reflexively in his throat. Someone was coming, and by the sounds of it, keeping quiet was a natural skill.  Not good enough to hide entirely from him, but better than the common folk.

Woe be upon anyone who interrupted him here when desperate hunger burned the back of his throat. It was never enough, they were never enough. Rats were sewer water, never filling, never curbing the burn, the ache. Nothing, nothing ever soothed the ache.  

He waited for the steps to come just a bit closer before he whirled, spitting mad, with a dagger at the ready in his fist.  If he sliced them violently enough, maybe he could cover his face, his lips…

The hooded figure did not blanch, and made no move to draw a weapon. Instead they paused at the crossing of the alleyways several feet away, clearly moving in their own direction before the snarling of a wild animal halted them.  An inconvenience.

Long horns curved out through cut holes in their hood, and a lithe tail swished once as the hooded figure turned slowly.  Astarion’s blood cooled as their eyes met his, and though he could see no other features of their face, the eyes of murder were indisputable.  Thrice now, Astarion had found death in this unknown tiefling, even if tonight no blood stained her person; the stink of it still followed her.  A constant companion, it seemed.

There was a moment where she stared at him, then slowly tilted her head in recognition.  In the following seconds she moved faster than he could predict and in a blur of dark cloth she was upon him. The rogue found his bearings in the final split second, just as his back impacted the wall with a grunt. When stillness fell again, both had respective knives to their throats. 

Astarion, here, found himself the closest he had yet been to the eyes of murder. He was more than familiar with the city’s worst, sitting under the thumb of one.  There are those who adopt power, who learn to be cruel, how to take a life. But never in his life had he seen what looked like, felt like, innate nature. 

With a hiss he tightened his grip on his dagger, and in perfect rhythm both pressed just a fraction more against flesh, just shy of drawing blood. He was certain he was the image of indignant frustration, but in her eyes there was the quickest flash of unrestrained glee. Then every second after that passed bloodlessly, he saw it. Hunger. 

Astarion blinked as though staring into a mirror for the first time.  Never enough, never ending, the constant ache of starvation. The burn, the need. Roiling in her stare like a wild beast that thinned the air between them.  With a twitch of her lips, she pushed the tiniest bit closer into his unyielding grip, and a thin red line bloomed where it made contact with her flesh.  A single, warm drip ran down her skin, settling and pooling into the hollow of her neck. 

The panic rose faster than he could control it off of his face, and there was nothing that could be done about his traitorous eyes fixing on the forbidden sustenance. Too close, it’s too close, he thought, his mouth going painfully dry.

The tiefling’s face was not that of someone looking at their only natural predator. Instead, she looked expectant, waiting for him to take his chance.  In that moment, he realized that she knew what he was.  But as much as he wanted it, as close at it was, as easy as it would have been to do something about her idiotic bluff, his master’s command rang like a death bell though every fiber of his being, and he remained frozen. 

The woman gave him one final dip of her chin, a final dare, with nothing in response.  Then, it was gone, and a mask of cool disinterest settled onto her hood-darkened face.

“Disappointing,” she said casually, eyes fixated on the blade edge poised against his flesh. It was the first time Astarion had heard her voice clearly, and could barely see the angled lines of her adult face under the hood.  “What a pretty corpse you’d be, were you not a slave to another,” she continued, a voice of smooth velvet, “Someday, when you become your own blood-artist, I will kill you. Fortunately for you I'm indebted to another tonight, so our dance will have to wait.”

Before he could retort, before he could move to defend himself, the shadows around her whirled, and she and her dagger were gone.  When he fled the alley, he left behind his bloodied dagger, finding himself in need of a new one entirely.

Astarion would not see death in the form of the tiefling woman again in the streets of Baldur’s Gate, and the whispers of slaughter and murder-plots would grow ever quieter. He wondered now and again if she had met her own end, but something in his heart told him she was far from done with this world. That, and the scent of walking bloodshed that never quite seemed to stop following him. 

*

A plan, he needed a plan.  In an unknown land, beneath the warmth of the sun, with a splitting headache from the creature within.   He needed to come up with something fast. But plans came easy to Astarion, and it seemed that for once in his life he was in a position to follow them through however he wanted. The rules had changed. The sun warmed his skin, his will felt like his own. 

When footsteps and two talking figures began to make their way up the path, the plan quickly took shape.  A quick lie, a turned back, and like breathing his knife found its way to the unsuspecting tiefling’s throat.  The threats to their companion rolled off his tongue like the master he was, feeling fully in control of the situation.  This was his path to information, to finding out just what had happened on that ship, and perhaps securing some gullible help towards whatever laid before him now.  It was a seamless plan in what would be a long line of easy manipulations to get him where he needed to be.

Until he looked back at his squirming hostage–a female tiefling–and met their eyes.

Wide, bewildered, and unmistakably familiar.  The smell of death wasn’t just the nautiloid, it was the woman in his grasp.  Dulled, but there if he really focused.

She sensed his surprise, the falter in his grip, and took her chance to roll away from him to safety.  In this moment, he let her.  

Both jumped to their feet, poised in a standoff, and Astarion took this opportunity to study her face in new, vivid, sunlit detail. She had been just a few years younger when he saw her features last under the shadow of a heavy hood.  The tone of her skin, the color of her hair, the curve of her horns, all of them pointed to the woman he had seen in the street, who had held a blade to his throat just like he'd done now.

The eyes.  The color was the same, the way his heart seized when he saw them, the same. But the way she looked at him, the way they widened and studied him with careful assessment, that was markedly different.  The darkness that had been festering there even as a child seemed to be all but gone.  He recalled her final words to him the last time they crossed paths a few short years ago, but by the way she was looking at him she did not seem to remember them herself.  After two brief meetings in passing, she had remembered him the night she threatened him, but here in the light of day not a shred of familiarity was there. 

He wondered, initially, if it was a trick. But even when she was a child he felt that oppressive feeling of woe that surrounded her. Here, now it was quiet. 

Which meant, she had no idea who he was, or that she meant to kill him. 

As Astarion smiled sweetly and sketched a bow of introduction, he felt the thrill of the upper hand, of an even better plan unfolding.

*

The elf rarely took his eyes off of her, Tav, she had introduced herself as.  Memory loss was always a convenient excuse, which she had said plainly enough when pushed in conversation. But it remained to be seen how true it was.  Sooner or later, she was going to slip up.  Her gaze would cast ice into his veins again and he would know on the spot that she was just as much a  liar as he was.  

But, he watched her be, kind.  He watched her choose, actively, to help others, and then leave without so much as using their trust against them.  He watched their companions, most of all the insufferably pathetic wizard, fall into reckless comfortability with her.  Tav nurtured it at every turn, she held the line in battle, and came quickly to their aid.  She opened their camp to an entire stranger, and an insufferable bard no less.

What game are you playing? he mused from his bedroll, watching her bed down for the night.  

Astarion’s breath hitched when her eyes flicked to his, and deja vu wracked every part of his body.  There you are, show it to me.  Show me what a liar you are, he goaded, a small smirk curling on his lips.

But just as quickly as Tav had found his stare, she looked away, her hands fumbling with the rest of her bedding.  He blinked, completely puzzled.  The darkness wasn’t there, foreboding did not lie down to rest around his heart.  She looked flustered, in the same way he was so very good at making his targets feel.  

For a night, he fell asleep doubting that she was faking her convenient memory loss.  He drifted out of consciousness with the sweet taste of I know something she doesn’t on his tongue, and how that would serve him.  

And then they awoke to the corpse of the brutalized bard in the middle of their camp, and the waves of death stink rolling off of her were unmistakable. There you are, he thought with gleeful satisfaction.  The body, the apprehensive party, and only Astarion knew with almost certainty who could have done it.  He could have exposed her right there, outed her little game, but the temptation of watching her sweat through it was too great.  Because what greater upper hand than a secret that could oust her from the only hope she had at ridding herself of her parasite?  

He had to admit, he was impressed at how quickly Tav had cleaned herself when he had never known her to care before.  He was even more impressed at how easily she talked herself into innocence.  Good, so the secret remains ours then, he thought.

“It’s time to start talking,” he cooed at her when the others had left earshot.  What good was blackmail if someone didn’t know you had it?  And what was more satisfying than the look of someone who was caught in a snare?  She’d gotten the upper hand on him once before, toyed with him when he was a lesser man and made sure he knew it.  The look of frustration on her face that those tables had turned would be sweeter than anything he’d been afforded in recent decades.

But disappointment seemed loathe to take its claws out of Astarion.  Because instead of baring her teeth like a trapped animal, genuine fear bloomed on her features.  Sweat beaded on her brow and her entire posture slumped.  He didn’t know if a tiefling her color could look green, but whatever shade she turned was about as close as she could get to it.  Her words came out in a stammering, pathetic jumble of ‘I swear it wasn’t me,’ and ‘I don’t know what happened,’ and then finally a shred of something useful: ‘Please don’t tell the others.’

A slow, sinister grin spread on his face.  It may not have been what he was hoping for, but this? This he could work with.  

“Oh, darling, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with a sympathetic tilt of his head, the charm coming like second nature.  “Your secret is safe with me.”

[oceanmusings]

Kiss It Better

Pairing | Shadowheart x Prisma

Content Warning | some spoilers to Shadowheart story (act 2? I can't remember when the source of her pain is revealed.) Prisma wants to comfort her lover. She also confesses her love to Shadowheart. I didn't plan on it, but Prisma wanted it to happen. This is Fluff/Comfort really.

Word Count | 1.2K

Summary | Prisma knows Shadowheart feels these pains in her hand and she would rather all of them ignore it, but Prisma can't help but want to comfort the half-elf she cares for. Especially after she just confessed her love.

Masterlist

The first time it happened was at The Emerald Grove, standing in the Druid Quarters as Prisma convinced Kagha to let the little Tiefling child go. It was common for children to steal - even ritual artifacts - but they were children and given the option to grow and learn from their mistakes. The wood-elf watched the little girl run out of the quarters before Prisma’s eyes darted to her new dark haired companion yelp out in pain, clutching her hand. She raised an eyebrow to her, curious what had happened. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, it’s just an old wound that hurts me from time to time. Nothing to be concerned about.” Shadowheart assured her as she rubbed the hand. Prisma finally noticed the black spot on the back of her hand. “It’s just something… I have to live with.”

“Dose it hurt?” Prisma asks, then immediately cringes as she realizes how stupid of a question that was. The woman just yelped out in pain, of course it hurts. “Sorry- that was a stupid question.”

“It’s okay.” Shadowheart muttered. “It hurts quite a lot, but it passes quickly. So I can manage.”

Prisma left it at that, but the more it happened, the more it pained Prisma to watch each flinch and yelp. Sometimes when she would smile at Prisma, her hand would flash and the smile would drop. A pit quickly developed in Prisma’s stomach, she wanted to make it better, especially when she was the source of making Shadowheart smile or laugh. The reveal of it being the act of her goddess Shar as a motive of punishment fueled that pit in Prisma’s stomach. She realized she wanted to make Shadowheart happy, to be the source of her smile, but without any involvement from Shar. Anytime it would happen too Shadowheart would request they ignore it, it moved on quickly and she didn’t want to put any attention onto it. As much as selfishly Prisma wanted to make it better, she respected that wish.

Once the two had become more than friends was an emotional day for Prisma and Shadowheart. It surprised Prisma she truly did feel the same connection, but was elated she wanted to pursue that feeling. But seeing the shock of pain now being Shadowheart’s lover brought a pain to Prisma as well. The last thing she wanted to do was make Shadowheart’s pain about herself, so she kept quiet, respected her wishes on ignoring anytime she heard the woman she cared for deeply yelp out “it hurts!” But watching the person you care for going through a pain caused by another just “because” was a pain Prisma didn’t know how to deal with. So she buried it, it was the best she could do.

“I-I haven’t said this to anyone before.” It was dark out, the stars twinkling above them as the moon watched the two lovers sit by a lake by themselves. Prisma had asked Shadowheart if she would meet her here at this lake when they got back to camp. Spend a night without the prying of their friends back at camp, and it’s been a while since it’s been the two of them. Besides, Prisma wanted to talk to her without anyone overhearing her.

“I’ve told people I care for them, that the care I feel for them is deep. But these certain words always get stuck in my throat. Never able to be uttered to anyone.” Prisma nervously picked a daisy close by her, holding up the tiny flower and rubbing the stem between her fingers to have the flower spin. “These words are terrifying, if I’m perfectly honest. I was afraid to say it to anyone. But… No matter how little time we’ve been traveling together, I can’t help but find myself not terrified to say it to you.”

“What are those words?” Shadowheart whispered, like she spoke any louder she would spook off the druid.

She looked down to Shadowheart, the beautiful woman lounging with her at the edge of a lake. Her chest bloomed happily the more she looked at Shadowheart as she patiently waited for her lover to speak. Prisma raised her hand, tucking the daisy behind Shaodwheart’s pointed ear.

“... I love you.”

She swallowed nervously as she watched for any reaction from Shadowheart, the tiniest out, any moment of rejection that could be coming her way. But all she found was a smile that pulled at her lips, making Prisma’s own smile grow.

“I love you, too.”

Shadowheart scooted closer to the other woman, slotting herself against Prisma’s side. Raising her hand to cup her cheek, brushing her thumb across the apple of Prisma’s green freckled cheek. It was either the relief or a magnet that pulled Prisma into her and pressed her lips against her lovers. She didn't care which it was.

Kissing Shadowheart had quickly become a favorite thing for Prisma to do. Typically in front of the others, the ones they would share in front of the others was soft, Prisma’s hand gently on Shadowhearts waist to pull her in as they make the kiss quick. But these ones, without anyone to see or interrupt, were the best ones. The way she slots herself against the wood-elf, leaving almost all her weight to be supported by her lover. Sometimes nipping at her lips just to cause a giggle to rise out of Prisma was adorable at how satisfied she was with herself. Shadowheart lets Prisma run on of her hands from her cheek to cupping her neck, able to feel her heartbeat faintly against her thumb as she deepens the kiss between them.

Prisma could do this forever.

Slowly she reluctantly parted the kiss, a joyous smile on her lips as a new euphoria filled her. The girl she told she loved, loved her back! This was the first person she’s ever truly meant it and knew that’s what she was feeling.

But the elation quickled faded.

Shadowheart let out a yelp, her hand jumping off of Prisma’s cheek to grasp her left hand, a pained expression as she whines, “it hurts!”

It was quick to fade but the smile didn’t return to her face. “Sorry- must’ve gotten too happy.”

An anger flared in Prisma’s chest. This was unfair. This was a happy moment for them, Prisma was not going to let Shar let herself be involved in this moment.

She gently touched Shadowheart’s left hand, taking over on rubbing it over before moving to link their hands together. “You shouldn’t be feeling pain just because Shar wants to punish you.” Prisma says as she gently rubs her thumb across her soft skin.

“It’s okay. I told you, I can live with it.” Always trying to assure everyone she was fine. Not to fuss over her comfort.

“I know,” Prisma whispers, looking down to her hand and rubs her hand across the black spot. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

She raised their linked hands to her lips and began pressing small kisses across the top of her hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to kiss it better.” Prisma stopped for a moment to speak. “I know I can’t take away the pain and you prefer we ignore it… but… please let me, I can do this rather than just stand back and watch the woman I love being in pain. No matter how short it happens.”

Shadowheart seemed to be in awe, maybe a bit surprised, but a soft expression was there as she see’s how deeply her lover wants to look out for her. She knew Prisma wanted to help anyone’s comfort, but anytime it was to herself it was still a bit of a surprise. “Well- I won’t stop you.”

Prisma grinned and brought her hand back up to her lips.

[dxnse-macabre]

GET TO KNOW YOUR MUSE BETTER

✩ — 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE TALL / SHORT / AVERAGE? : tall, at least according to the dnd player handbook. the average height for elves ranges from under 5' to above 6'. he's on the taller end of the scale.

▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT ? : yes!! he loves being able to look down at others, gives him some feeling of superiority.

▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE? : white, curly. he puts a hint of product in his hair so it at least stays out of his face when he fights (his secret is aloe. both serves as some sort of shampoo/conditioner and hair gel to keep his hair in place.) if you run your hands through his hair right after he took a bath without any aloe, it's very soft.

▸ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR / GROOMING? : of course! you will NEVER catch him with greasy hair, unless it is right after a fight-- but the second he's back at camp, he's the first person in the river bathing. while he has fun killing and gutting others, he doesn't like it when he feels sticky, sweaty, and gross.

▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE / WHAT OTHERS THINK ? : the one thing he has left that is his is his appearance, so of course he'd be very particular about it. he relishes in the fact that he's very attractive, and holds it very dear to his heart (that's also why he refuses to take the astral tadpole)

✩ — 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒.

▸ INDOORS OR OUTDOORS? : outdoors. he can get claustrophobic if indoors is too... indoors.

▸ RAIN OR SUNSHINE? : he loves the sun. he misses it.

▸ FOREST OR BEACH? : forest. he doesn't like sand; it gets in places you never want it to be.

▸ PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS? : gems. he would love to rock some rings with precious stones on them.

▸ FLOWERS OR PERFUMES? : perfumes. he loves smelling amazing.

▸ PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE? : personality. he doesn't care if you're a dwarf. he doesn't care if you're an orc. or a tiefling. or a gith. he finds his partners sexy either way, so as long as they respect his boundaries and listen to him

▸ BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD? : depends. he likes to be the life of the party and draw everyone's attention. but being alone?... sometimes he needs a moment to think by himself. but he's also afraid of dying alone, so...

▸ ORDER OR ANARCHY? : anarchy. let's fuck some shit up

▸ PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES? : white lies. he'd lie his ass everywhere he goes if that meant that he lives or that it saves someone from a moment of hurt. he really believes in the whole, "ignorance is bliss" thing.

▸ SCIENCE OR MAGIC? : magic. he gives gale a lot of shit for being a magical wizard guy, but... truth be told, he's pretty jealous. he wishes that he could just burn everyone that touches him in a way he doesn't like.

▸ PEACE OR CONFLICT? : conflict. he loves the drama

▸ NIGHT OR DAY? : day. night is nice, but he relishes the daylight when he can.

▸ DUSK OR DAWN? : dusk. this is the prime time to get up to no good

▸ WARMTH OR COLD? : warmth. he needs a hug

▸ MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS? : few close friends. he needs them. he has too many people that know his body, but not who he is.

▸ READING OR PLAYING A GAME? : reading. you guys know the idle animation LOL

✩ — 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS? : he's a, "glass half-empty" kind of guy. he's inclined to be very self-centered and pragmatic, and also jealous of those that tav helps out. it always goes back to the whole, "why weren't you there so you could have helped me when i needed it most" kind of thing.

▸ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM? : his family. his friends in his past life. his mortality. he lost so much, and he has to live with that for however long he has left. he's afraid to watch all of the companions live out their last days, due to his immortality.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS? : honestly? he doesn't have much. the new memories that he makes now are the best memories he has. if he tries to think of the past, his good memories from his life before... he can't remember.

▸ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL? : yeah. it's too easy for him to take away a life. he's been doing it for so long, he often forgets that the people he killed had lives that they left behind.

▸ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN? : it's emotional, explosive. if he's angry, he has angry tears running down his cheeks. don't trust him with a knife or anything else, because he will stab someone/something. if it's a depressed breakdown, he falls to his knees. he might even slam his fists or claw at the ground if he feels like he's been wronged and doesn't feel like he deserved whatever he got. then, there's a calm after the storm. he goes catatonic for a while and tries to process what happened.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE? : he's afraid to, but he's capable. you need to get through several barriers first before he takes it in stride. he needs to trust you first. otherwise, he'll think that you're trying to force him to be indebted to you.

▸ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE? : he's afraid. he's afraid to see how it ends up, afraid to fuck it up, but he's also so certain that it's what he wants. he holds it close, but holds you like porcelain. i like to think that the real astarion, the mortal one from almost 200 years ago, comes back. he learns how to live again. he learns that he isn't just an object. he learns that he's more than what the world made him out to be, thanks to you. he will search far and wide for something that can "cure" your mortality without giving your soul to the devil... but if he can't find that? he's still happy that it happened, and will want to die by your side once you two have lived a happy life together.

tagged by: the one and only @wildskissed tagging: @crimesought @murderbled @nightsdogma + anyone else that wants to do this!

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Humanity

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.3K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: TW!! self harm, blood, cutting, soft Astarion, not glorifying self harm it is a real problem people struggle with myself included, angst, hurt/comfort

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

Astarion constantly smelt blood when he was around you. Given all the adventuring and your general clumsiness he assumed you always had a scrape somewhere. You were quite odd to him. Skittish, afraid of the world. And yet, you were kind as could be. Always helping, sometimes to your detriment. He couldn’t quite discern what he felt towards you. You annoyed him beyond belief. But heaven forbid anyone say anything remotely negative about you and suddenly he had a knife at their throat. You were… complicated. To say the least. 

He saw the pain in your eyes, the same pain Abdirak mentioned the day Astarion met you. He knew how introverted you were and how the smallest things could have you blushing. He often used it to his advantage when he needed to persuade the others. You almost always sided with him, naively. He couldn’t tell what you felt for him, which frustrated him further. You never fell for the obvious seduction. Even when he asked you to his bedroll at the tiefling party; you blushed violently before stuttering an excuse to get away from him. He didn’t see you the rest of the night and when you were at camp the next morning he thought nothing of it. He noticed how often you were alone, how distant your face looked when you thought nobody was looking. He could always see the lack of sleep under your eyes, the hollowing of your cheeks as your eating was disordered. You had an air of melancholy around you when you weren't actively being the sunshine of camp. He never knew how to approach you when you were so obviously in pain. He wanted to care, but he himself was afraid of what caring for you might stir inside him. 

Tonight he sat at his tent, reading and drinking his usual red. Everyone had seemingly retired for the night, only his and your tents remained illuminated by candles. He glanced at your tent every now and then, wondering what you were up to. Suddenly, he watched you walk out of your tent, you headed for the lake. Astarion assumed you were going to wash so he left you be. That was until he smelled your blood, fresh. So fresh you were likely still bleeding. He listened closely as he stood to make his way to you. Your heart beat was even. How were you so calm if you were bleeding? He made his way to the lake stealthily. Not wanting to alert whatever was hurting you so he would have an advantage over it. 

What he saw stopped him in his tracks. There you sat, your legs partially in the lake while you sliced little cuts into your right thigh. With each new cut you watched the blood trickle and ooze before splashing your leg with water and repeating the process. He could hear your random sniffles, he could see the tears that flowed down your cheeks shine in the dim moonlight. 

“Oh my sweet…” he gasped out before cautiously making his way to you. 

You heard a twig snap a few feet from behind you. Your first instinct took over and you immediately cast sanctuary on yourself. There was no way you could fight something with muscle right now. All you had was your magic. Your eyes widened in horror when they met Astarion’s. 

He tried not to look, he really did. But your flowy white night shirt was seeping up the blood from your upper thigh, while the lower cuts bled down your leg. He was horrified in his own way. The purest soul, so selfless and sweet, insufferably kind - was hurting themself. He opened his mouth before shutting it again, not knowing what to say. He tore his eyes from your leg. Your eyes were round and full of fear. Your waterline was ready to burst with tears but you willed them to stay put. 

“Please don’t tell the others.” you whispered after a moment. 

Everything was so still, except you. You were shaking. Astarion carefully stepped towards you. When you didn’t retreat, which he fully expected you to do, he softly held your arms. Supporting you physically, he could feel the way you trembled. You reminded him of a frightened animal. And here you were being supported by a natural predator. His throat clenched despite him having no intention of biting you or drinking from you. His pupils dilated, the smell alone called to his savage, vampiric nature. 

“I won’t.” He said back sincerely. “What happened, little love?”

You nudge your head into his chest, unable to speak with the current lump in your throat. You weren’t brave enough to look at him. You didn’t want to see the pity, or disgust. Astarion slowly walked you back a few paces to sit you on a rock. 

“Stay.” he said before you watched him use transmutation to blink to gods know where. He vanished for only a moment before he reappeared in the very same fashion he vanished. He held a small parcel in his hand. You shifted your legs facing them away from him. He put a gentle, cold hand on your knee, tilting you to face him. 

His fingers worked diligently. He focused on the larger cuts before the smaller ones. “You wont need any stitches…” he said, mostly to himself but smiled slightly when he saw you watching him. 

You closed your eyes, slightly relieved. “I… I’ve been doing this since I was 12. But this is the first time someone else has… seen them. I thought I was so clever…” you finished with a watery laugh. 

“You don’t owe me an explanation, darling. Pain is pain. It manifests differently in us all.” he whispered as he laid the large pad of gauze over your cuts. You winced, sucking in a sharp breath. “I know, I know sweetheart. Just breathe for me…” he said, holding your leg in place as he gently but quickly wrapped your leg in gauze. Your small whimpers that you tried to hold back were like a hammer to his heart, cracking a little more with every whine. 

“All done.” he said, letting go of you. You hissed as you pulled your knees up. 

You felt the angry red skin beneath the bandages, heat radiating from it. You nodded at him, “Thank you…” you mumbled. 

Astarion finally felt his thirst subside slightly. He sat across from you, waiting for you to speak, if you wanted to. 

“I feel like I’m getting the bad out when I do it. All the hate and malice and pain… just goes with each cut.” you mumbled, not looking at him, your hands fidgeting with your sleeves. 

“I understand. I think most people hurt themselves in one way or another to relieve themselves. Life is too difficult not to. Your preferred method is just a bit more obvious than others. This doesn’t make you bad or unworthy. This just makes you… human.” Astarion said, sincerity laced every word. 

You stifled a small laugh, you weren’t human, but you understood the sentiment. He understood your humanity. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with all this…” you said, your heart hurt just thinking about how strange and possibly traumatic this is for Astarion. 

He waved his hand absentmindedly, “Think nothing of it, darling. I am always happy to be here for you, in any way you need me.” he gently took your hand. 

You smiled at him. He stood before he picked you up bridal style, his inhuman strength on full display as he carried you back to camp. You watched him look between your tents before he walked to yours. Placing you gently on the bedroll, careful not to bump your sensitive leg. He started to get up but your hand caught his wrist. 

“Could you stay?” you asked, not entirely sure why. 

“Of course. Sleep now, and in the morning I’ll buy you a delicious little health potion and…” he said, eyeing you to see what else you could want.

“Cake?” you said.

Ah, your sweet tooth, another trait he secretly adored. “Cake it is, dear one.” he watched you wrap yourself around his waist before drifting off rather quickly. He watched you fondly, moving a bit of hair from your face every once in a while.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello all! I hope everyone is well. This is a bit of a heavier fic but I think it might be a new personal favorite. Quite a bit of the behaviors described are derived from reality. Felt a little therapeutic to write this somehow? Idk if it is weird let me know an I'll take it down ASAP. Thanks for the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests. XOXOXOXO!

[ilikedetectives]

Spell your url ✧˖°.

Spell out your URL using song titles that can describe your muse/OC, then tag as many people as there are letters in your URL!

Thank you @horsyunicorn for the tag! This is for my Tav, Kalius, a criminal ranger Mephistopheles Tiefling whose moral compass is Minthara. Note: lyrics in "" are direct quotes and those in [] are translations stitched together. And "you" in these songs are referring to Minthara in Kalius' POV OwO

I - I Feel Immortal - Tarja Turunen "Whenever I wake up / I’m lost and always afraid / It’s never the same place / I close my eyes to escape / The walls around me" L - LMLY - Jackson Wang "Don't leave me, loving you / Whatever you do / Don't leave me, loving you / If you tip toe out in the morning, I need a warning" I - Imaginarium - Nightwish K - Kizuna No Kiseki - MAN WITH A MISSION x milet [For who do we carry on our lives for / Intertwining fates / Road of the serpent, countless sins / Cut them all down] E - Eyes, Nose, Lips - Taeyang [Your eyes, nose, lips. Your touch that used to touch me. To the end of your fingertips, I can still feel you.] D - Devil - Super Junior [Everything, even kneeling before you feels so natural now...You're cold and hot, devil, like a midsummer rain shower. After drenching my hot body, you burn up my throat again. You make me taste a moment of pleasure, then you burn up my throat again.] E - El Dorado - Two Steps From Hell T - Tempo - EXO [I wanna be the only one hearing her, she's my melody...Your scent is in my heart. Striking like a wave...Don't slow it up for me.] E - End of All Hope - Nightwish "It is the end of all hope / To lose the child, the faith / To end all the innocence / To be someone like me" C - Chân Ái (Vietnamese equivalent of Alurlssrin) - Orange x Khói x Châu Đăng Khoa [Since the day you arrive, dawn suddenly comes to the sky. Like a ring of melodies when all beings are moved. You are the symphony that evokes emotions in the human/mundane world.] T - Truyền Thái Y (Summon the Imperial Doctor) - Ngô Kiến Huy x Masew [You finally notice me. Coming closer, the captivating fragrance blooms. Wait for one minute, I want to say. Summon the imperial doctor, I'm so drunk I already lost my way back.] I - I Think I - Super Junior [The dream that is becoming more distinct...I'll stretch out my hand to catch the perfect moon. Your entrancing dance and eyes that dominate me...Getting drunk only on the entrancing rhythm, I engulf you completely. Getting drunk on you.] V - Vì Yêu Cứ Đâm Đầu (For Love, Dive In Head First) MIN x Đen x JustaTEE [I want to be bounded in your embrace / I want to listen to every breath surrounding me.] E - Ever Dream - Nightwish "Would you do it with me? / Heal the scars and change the stars / Would you do it for me? / Turn loose the heaven within" S - Sha fa (杀伐 / Kill and Conquer) 司空先生 x 苏子凡 x 岚之调 x SESE鱼 (this version specifically x) [It is the hells that invite me, glancing at the flaws of artifices in this world. Dye river with blood in exchange for a heaven and earth without flaws.]

Tagging, if you would like to, no pressure at all ^o^ @minthara, @wyllravengard, @miyku, @userkarlachs, @orphiceonian, @blacksalander, @jove999, @usurperss, @mistress-light, @onewingedangels, @jujoobedoodling, @vikingnerd793

[tricksterrune]

Rogues playing DnD: Classes

I fully admit that this is based on my limited experience of DnD, mainly through season 1 of Vox Machina, The Gamers 2: Dorkness Rising and FrasierDnD Twitter, specifically this. I also used to play The Dark Eye from which I steal aspects. And WoW

for @belphegor1982

Piper: DungeonMaster

He brings them together. They call him a nerd for it, but it sounds like fun so they all join in. But while Piper is the most experienced as of now, he hasn't played since college and wasn't the dungeon master, he isn't 100% in control and improvises a lot. At first he tries to keep them on the story path but learns to relax and let go. He used to have a high level bard in college and frequently uses that character's relatives as npcs.

James: hmmmmm

In the Dark Eye there were classic fae changelings. Fae could take a child and leave a changeling in its wake. And you could then play as the child that was taken which grew up in the fae realm, learn magic and becomes fae-like (If I remember correctly). James would play a character but never actually clarify whether he was the original character or the changeling pretending to be him.

Or I go with my initial answer and say that he roleplays as someone who does not fit into the world of DnD (as I once played a whole quest trying to be Indiana Jones). Half-elf...alledgedly

Mick: Monk....now

Mick's character became a monk later in life and starts as a veteran character (is that a thing in DnD?). Which means that he starts stronger but his character is old. He'd be a Dragonborn because they look badass. He is always super-prepared and carries endless supplies.

Mark: Wizard, elf or human

I hc Mark as someone who likes reading and not just Mark Twain, who was overshadowed by his gifted brother who was into natural sciences. He probably loves fantasy books but never engaged as a teen, wanting to appear tough. He has big ideas but hasn't read the rulebook too closely, just stories and wants to be a wizard who can do everything, mainly throw fireballs at people. Piper has to remind him frequently that he can't do the thing he just announced he was going to do. "I cast Firestorm!" "Do you know the spell?" "No?" "What about your spell slots?" "My what?"

Roscoe: Artificer, human

He sticks to what he knows best so he essentially plays himself. BUT he has read the rulebook twice and has become a rule's lawyer. He often thinks outside of the box but sometimes gets bigged down by what the numbers say are possible and what's a good story. He'd try a peasant railgun.

Lisa: Rogue, tiefling

Skintight leather? Check. Awfully sharp knives? Check. Steal absolutely EVERYTHING? Check. Often gets the party into trouble with her antics. "Can I roll to steal the crown?" "Seeing as its currently on the king's head, he's looking at you and is surrounded by his royal guard....no." She'd play tiefling, sexy as hell.

Digger: Barbarian, half-orc or orc

Digger junior, his character's name, will fight everyone, drink everything and then fight everyone again. He is legendary in bar brawls. His secret goal is to be the brawler like no ever ever was. Fighting's his real test, drinking is his cause. Digger jr is Digger unfiltered which you'd think was impossible.

Len: Druid, elf

He was blackmailed into attending at first (but secretly has fun) and plays a druid, almost exclusively in bear form (assuming that's possible, I' drawing on my WoW knowledge). His favorite trick is making people think he's a regular bear and only reveals himself when it's funny. Has written a couple of bear puns, but is afraid to use them unless he's a little drunk.

Sam: Bard! And a woman!

Charisma, charisma and charisma! He needs everyone to know that he is the most beautiful lady of all the land. And his character doesn't get her hands dirty, she stays outside and keeps inspiring the party. In ideal circumstances anyway, she has mace (an actual mace) when things get tough.

Roy: Warlock, Tiefling.

Roy strives to become an eldritch entity himself, possibly by killing his patron. At least he's not giving up his soul. He draws the most beautiful character portraits between rounds.

[thetavolution]

I made my character Bex from @thebonnevillegame a character in BG3!

I thought she'd be perfect as a tiefling in the BG3 world. I plan on doing Laura, Minty, and Ingrid very soon.

BEX

Full name:  Rebecca Elspeth McQuoid Name meaning:  Rebecca: to bind or tie; Elspeth: chosen by God; McQuoid: son of Uad (Gaelic form of Wat, short for Walter) Pronouns: She/Her  Race: Tiefling Age: 36  Orientation: Pansexual Romance: Astarion Class: Bard Subclass: College of Swords Origin: Entertainer Theme Song:  Smoke and Mirrors — Gotye

Personality Bex is intelligent, but flippant. Not very many things upset her, but when they do anger her, she goes from 0 to 60 in the blink of an eye. She can typically diffuse tense situations simply by a lack of reaction or by telling a joke. She generally keeps a cool head, so much so it seems like she doesn’t care. In reality, she’s tired. She’s seen some shit and she is over it.

Her philosophy is life is hard, why make it harder? She’s way too tired for that shit. She tries to help people out and, while she’s not perfect at it, she tries to be encouraging. She's friendly yet apathetic to most people when she meets them at first.

She doesn't hate a lot of people either. Someone would really have to press her buttons or give her a reason to hate them. She’ll hate someone as vile as Cazador with her whole heart, or she’ll just really hate someone like Naaber due to pure annoyance. She’s the type of person who prefers to stick up for the underdog.

She struggles to trust people on a deeper level, yet she continues to seek out connection with others. Under all her bluster, she has a good heart. She's just used to taking care of herself with little to no help from anybody else. Some people see her as trashy and she'd tell them they're correct.

Although not cruel, she doesn’t always do or say what someone needs her to. She’s blunt, but she’s never intentionally hurtful. Sometimes she just sucks at wording herself. She’s never been one to brush off someone else’s hurt feelings with “I’m just being honest” either.

Although she’s intelligent, she’s good at playing dumb in order to get what she wants. She knows how to game the system and happily teaches people she trusts to do the same. When she feels wronged, she won’t hesitate to be cruel in retaliation. She can talk people into things and her charisma can get her out of sticky situations.

Background Bex is originally from my show @thebonnevillegame, but think of this as a multiverse situation. This is what would happen if she were born in Faerûn as a tiefling. Not to worry, there are not spoilers for Bonneville here.

Bex was born in Baldur’s Gate. Her family is, unfortunately, well known for being plagued by drama and heartache. She’s the bastard child of Garrick, a half-elf carpenter, and Sharon “Sauci”, a tiefling barmaid. Sauci believed that, if she got pregnant, Garrick would stay with her and they would live happily ever after. He didn’t.

Sauci was left to raise Bex alone, but she didn’t have much interest in being a mother. So, Bex spent most of her childhood taking care of herself.

There is more to her backstory, but I can’t reveal much else. It mirrors her backstory in The Bonneville Game a bit too closely. But she did start running with the wrong crowd and it would eventually bite her in the ass. She was also betrayed by someone she trusted and loved very dearly.

But prior to getting a tadpole in her head, she was working as a cook in Baldur’s gate.

Likes: Money, cooking, baking, discovering new foods and recipes, animals, working out, being outside, collecting cookbooks, and reading

Dislikes: Most authority figures, debt collectors, working directly with customers, large crowds, and being seen as “soft”

Fears: She’s afraid of losing her freedom and losing herself. She believes she deserves every bad thing that’s come her way, but it still scares her. 

Quirks: Bex doesn’t usually bother to remember names at first. She gives nicknames or identifies people by specific quirks they have. I.E. If someone likes grilled cheese and pickles, she might refer to them as Pickles.

Once she thinks you’re sticking around in her life, she’ll remember your actual name. She’s too used to people coming in and out to let herself get attached too quickly.

Astarion: Knives Gale: Rocky (she found him in a rock) Wyll: The Hero or just Hero Lae’zel: Green Bean (how she survived being killed by Lae’zel, we’ll never know) Shadowheart: Shady Halsin: The second she found out he’s called Daddy Halsin, she grabbed onto that and refused to let go. Karlach: Firestarter

Mental Health:  Bex has a wall up. She has been hurt by various people in her life. She struggles to let people get to know the real her. She has an easier time helping people with their problems. It distracts her from her own and it means people ask less questions about her. She’s terrified of falling in love due to past trauma which means Astarion is trouble for her. 

Halsin is less scary to her, at first, due to assuming he’s just a horn dog.

Favorite Foods: Homemade Bread, Potato Scones, Brownies, Macarons, and Paella

Favorite Drinks: Coffee and Mermaid Whiskey

Favorite Flower: Poppies and Selûne’s Tear

Height:  5’6”/ 167.64 cm 

Skin: As a Tiefling (she’s a human in her OG story), she has pink skin.

Hair:  Her hair is a brighter pink, contrasting with her skin. (In her original story, she does dye her hair pink. In BG3, it naturally is.)

Eyes:  Demonic Orange.

Color Scheme:  As a pink being, she tries to find colors that complement her tone. Sometimes she defaults to black, brown, or grey just to avoid accessorizing. However, she’s a fan of blues, teal, and sage. She doesn’t like to dress in too much gold, but she thinks it makes for a nice trim on clothing.

Fashion Sense: She shifts between lazy and all dolled up when getting dressed. Some days she will just throw on whatever is in arm’s reach. Other days, she takes time for her makeup and clothing. When she knows she has a full day of cooking ahead, she prioritizes efficiency and comfort above all.

Family: 

William “Will” McQuoid Bex barely knows her father and they haven’t interacted very much. He has quite an extensive criminal history that dates back to when he was 14. He’s gotten in trouble for fights, drugs, robbery, assault (including assault at a funeral), and a number of petty offenses. He’s a violent person, but he’s good at coming across as friendly when you first meet him. 

Sharon “Sauci” McNamara Sauci is a terrible mother who is more focused on herself than her kids. She only had Bex because she believed it would make her father stay. When it didn’t, Sauci lost interest in her. She’s even been known to try to flirt with the people her daughter is dating.

Siblings Who even knows what’s going on there. Sauci only has one child, but Will has no idea how many he might have.

[thesolemnhour]

things don’t make bad scenes (people do)

For the “Why does your knight commander love their LI?” prompt that has been circulating, which I took too seriously. Title from the We Shall All Be Healed album website.

Length: 2700 words (😬)

It has been a month since she closed the Worldwound, and Agria Lebeda sleeps better than she has in years. Perhaps it’s the relief of finally accomplishing what she had set out to do, but more likely, she owes the improvement to the tiefling sleeping blissfully beside her. It is an incredible thing, being in love. And it’s true that she still can’t compete with Woljif when it comes to sleeping in, but that just means she gets to spend a few minutes tracing his features, relaxed in sleep.

There’s very little to warrant such an early start now, but change is hard; she had been going non-stop since Iz, and the transition into peacetime is taking longer than she hoped. With a small measure of defeat, she reluctantly pulls herself loose from the warmth of her bed and consigns herself to starting the day.

Luckily, Woljif can sleep through almost anything. She presses a kiss lightly to his brow before pulling a robe over her nightclothes. She thinks about picking up her staff from where it sits propped up near the door but—no, she thinks she can go without it. Her leg has been better lately, and she resolves that she can manage.

Wandering downstairs, she notes absently that someone—a courier, perhaps?—is standing near the doorway, but she ignores them in favor of starting a pot of coffee, the only addiction of hers that she will still allow quarter.

The courier clears his throat, and Agria concedes that it is possible that he may indeed have something important to say.

“Be with you in just a moment!” She calls over her shoulder, cringing slightly at the scratchiness of her voice. Armed with caffeine, she takes a few steps back into the entryway before she stops dead in her tracks.

Before her, looking no different than the last time she saw him some five years ago, stands Viktor Lebeda. Her father, although it feels odd to think of him like that now.

She freezes. Blinks in astonishment. She takes a breath, readying herself to say—something, but she stops, still holding her breath. Finally, her expression sides away into boredom: “I didn’t invite you here.”

“No,” says Viktor pointedly, “you didn’t.”

As ever, what her father doesn’t say is more important than what he does. Most children, she imagines, would have invited their last living parent to visit the place of their great triumph, but they are not most families.

“Well,” she begins, turning her back to him again as she stirs sugar into her coffee, “I’m very busy, and you’ll have take whatever it is that you’re here for up with Irabeth.”

“I’m afraid that I have questions that Commander Tirabade won’t have answers to.”

“Then perhaps you should have written ahead.”

“I did.” Had he? Maybe it would’ve been wise to have read those letters marked with the swan-shaped seal of House Lebeda before tossing them into the fireplace after all. Then again… “Agria. I am here for you.”

“Here for me?” Agria scoffs. “Now? You didn’t come after we first took Drezen. You didn’t come after we returned from Alushinyrra. You certainly didn’t come after—“ After I broke my leg all those years ago. But Agria will be damned if she says those words aloud. She won’t ask that question, no matter how obliquely. “But you’re needed to see me now? Honesty would carry you farther.”

His face remains placid, giving no emotion away. It’s her least favorite expression of his. “I did not think that you would have me.”

“I’m not having you now.”

“Commander,” he tries again. The appeal to authority is interesting at least. “I would like very much to speak with you. It is important, and time is short.”

“Hm. A terrible shame. I am afraid, however, that I have an engagement with the chieftain of Neathholm this morning. He is a very punctual person and would take my absence personally. Perhaps I shall see you in the afternoon then.”

…

After ascending the stairs at a near-jog, Agria closes her bedroom door behind her as gently as she can, conscious not to wake her lover. She rests her head against the sturdy wood for a moment, steadying herself.

“Coming back to bed?” Woljif asks hopefully, his words slurring slightly as he rubs his eyes.

“I am afraid not,” she says, brows drawn together as she begins to fix her hair.

“What’s going on?”

She feels the old pull to lie, to talk about anything else. But it’s Woljif. “I have… an uninvited guest.”

In the mirror, she spies him leaning up on his elbows to get a better look at her face, which remains expressionless.

“Who’s the guy?”

Taking a deep breath, Agria answers, “My father.”

Now, Woljif sits up, wide awake. “Really? He just showed up? Do nobles even do that?”

“Not often,” she says faintly.

Woljif pauses for a moment, frowning. “You know where this wouldn’t happen?”

Agria smiles: he is determined to travel now that the Worldwound is behind them. And not somewhere for work, he insisted. Somewhere actually nice. With warm weather! She suspects he is naming increasingly exotic locales just to drive up the bargain.

“Absalom? Or maybe Oppara?”

“Solku!”

Agria giggles, turning to look at him directly while she finishes the buttons on her vest. “In Garund? You don’t want to go all the way to Garund! You can’t operate an orphanage from the next continent over.”

“No,” he concedes, “but it made you laugh.”

Oh, she loves him.

“I’ll make you a deal,” says Agria, pressing her forehead to his. “Wait long enough to meet my aunt, and I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go. So long as we keep it to the inner sea region.”

He steals a kiss, soft and quick. “You drive a hard bargain, chief, but I’m ready to quit while I’m ahead.”

…

When the afternoon rolls around, Agria realizes that she felt less anxious before storming the Threshold. But like any battle, it’s about managing one’s advantages. She chooses to pitch the encounter in Drezen’s gardens—Arueshalae’s brilliant idea to celebrate the victory and a place where Agria feels most invincible.

She leaves her staff, though her leg complains.

She wasn’t sure he would wait: he was considered an important man in Brevoy now, indispensable to Lebedas and Surtovas alike. It feels odd, being here with him like this. Like she has slipped into the skin of an Agria of years past.

“Well, then. If you’re not going to tell me what you’re really here for, I suppose I shall have to guess.” Agria declares, as the two of them walk. “Whatever it is, no one is talking about it yet. Someone would have told me, so you must be hoping I can head whatever it is off before it goes public.”

“Is that so?” Asks Viktor, again impassive. Quietly, it makes her furious.

“So I should think. It can’t be within the family; you would never have come to me if it were. You must be hoping that I—in my renewed popularity—can dig House Lebeda out from whatever hole it has found itself in. So! That only leaves a few options: I can’t imagine you would come all the way here to appease the Medvyeds of all people. Nor the Garesses. That only leaves Houses Orlovsky… or Surtova.”

What a catastrophe that would be if they had truly lost the confidence of the Surtovas. It would be the death of Viktor’s life’s work. All those years the two of them spent in New Stetven—her studying and him maneuvering—it would all have been for nothing.

At last, he stops walking. He shakes his head as though it could expel the thoughts there. Looking down at her, he looks older than she has ever seen him. It’s almost startling. “It’s about your cousin’s engagement.”

It can only be Elanna, who has been circling an engagement with King Noleski Surtova for Pharasma knows how long. But Agria has no obligation to be a good sport about this. Folding her hands behind her back and tilting her head innocently, she asks, “Which cousin? I have twelve.”

How Viktor Lebeda scowls. It’s an expression she recognizes in the mirror. Agria tastes satisfaction. Pushing her advantage, she decides to set a trap. “I have a boyfriend. You may have heard.”

Let him brush her off with a dismissive comment about her tiefling lover. Let him tell her how little he cares about her personal life when the family reputation is in danger. Let him give her a reason to finally be rid of him for good.

Instead, the corners of Viktor’s lips quirk upwards. “I have. He’s the boy from Kenabres, isn’t he?”

“He’s been with me from the beginning.”

“I suppose he has,” he says. His phantom smile drifts into something stronger as he looks over at her. “I have to admit: it’s—odd, to think of you and… boys.”

“I’m not sure how. I haven’t been a child in a long time.” And who is to thank for that?

“No, of course, you’re right. But you’ve always been so... focused. It’s funny to think that you made room for anything else.”

It strikes a sour chord with her. Whose fault was it, after all, that there had been so space to spare? “I owe that to you.”

“I suppose you do,” he says thoughtfully. “Do you remember the first thing I ever taught you?”

She does.

“You taught me how to control flame,” she recalls. “It was after I set one of the tapestries on fire—the one with the little blue bird in the corner. He always looked so—cheerful, I suppose. So pleased that you looked long enough to find him. That one was my favorite.”

Mother had made the tapestry, of course, and all the others in the little house outside of Restov--but it feels wrong to mention her now. Here. Things had been different then: they hadn’t had the kind of capital needed to keep a real staff, certainly not like the one their cousins had in Silverhall. It had just been the three of them.

Viktor senses the mood that has fallen across the two of them like a shroud, and he too knows better than to say her mother’s name. “It was my favorite, too.”

He had been a busy man then as he was now, ever setting off for the family seat or the capitol. Getting his attention had been no small feat, but Mother’s needlework had been like her second child. All agreed that works of such beauty were worthy of protection.

Her father had sat across from her on the floor of the living room holding her hands between her. His face had been soft, then, his eyes crinkling with his smile. You have to picture the flame in your mind, imagine it doing as you ask it to, he explained. Ask it nicely enough, and the magic will do as you say. He was right—she never set anything on fire without meaning it again. They had been young, then, and the future had looked bright.

What happened to us?

“What is he like?”

She can’t smother the smile. “Funny. Smart. Stars, he’s smart. You should see him balance a checkbook—that’s a magic of its own.”

Instinct tells her to stop talking, to give him no more than she must, but what does she have to be afraid of anymore?

“I thought it had to be hard. Miserable, even. I thought if I didn’t have to suffer for it… then it wasn’t love, not really.  There’s nothing to be gained in life without pain, as they say. I was so afraid that it would all evaporate as soon as things started to go wrong.”

It had been the only way the story ever ended. Her father certainly hadn’t been the only one to stop speaking to her after her great unraveling. She had always been excellent at driving people away.

“But…?”

“But it didn’t. He doesn’t ask for things it would hurt me to give. It feels… safe. Like it’s just us, and there’s no reason to be afraid. When we got back from the Abyss… We learned that someone would have to die if we wanted to close the Wound. We thought that it would have to be me.

“He had nothing when we met, just his smarts and the clothes on his back. The crusade was his way out, maybe his one chance. And he offered to leave it! For me. He wanted to set out for the River Kingdoms, and just… be the two of us. No money, no titles. I didn’t… I didn’t know it could be like that.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“Because I’m me.” She laughs. “I always want just a little more. I wanted them both, him and Sarkoris.” And her gardens in Drezen and his orphanage in Kenabres. She wants them all.

When she glances at her father, his eyes are sad. She is sad for him.

“I missed you,” he says. She thinks he means it.

She only nods in the face of his sincerity; Agria, Lushbringer and hero of the Fifth Crusade, is much easier to miss than the Agria of New Stetven. It changes so very little, and Agria knows how this works. “About Elanna… I promise nothing. You haven’t yet made any specific requests. But if I do—then I would expect the same for the Sarkorians in Lebeda territory, should they decide to return here.”

Once more, the corners of his mouth turn up into a faint smile, saying all he refuses to say out loud.

…

Woljif stand waiting for her where she hoped she could find him at the foot of the citadel. What’s more, he’s idly spinning her beloved Staff of Flowers as he waits. Tapping it lightly on the ground, a delicate little purple-blue wildflower sprouts from the staff’s tip. Cornflower, she thinks with her first true smile of the day.

“Forget something?” He asks when he catches sight of her, plucking the flower and hold her staff out to her.

“No,” she says ruefully, taking it back. She already feels better with its weight in her hand. Or maybe that’s just Woljif’s presence. “I was doing something foolish.”

“You? Never!”

“Yeah, yeah. I thought it would make a point.” She reaches forward to pull him closer, playing absentmindedly with the buttons of his shirt.

“Did it?” He asks, tucking the cornflower behind her ear.

“Eh,” says Agria. She’s not sure, but it did feel good in the moment. Continuing to fuss with the front of shirt, she finds a silver chain holding an empty delicate setting. “Have you thought about what you might put in here?”

“Dunno yet. Maybe something red,” he says as he twirls an auburn curl around his index finger. She can’t hold back her laugh. Looking over her shoulder at the back of the man who was her father, he asks, “Was that—?”

“Yes,” she answers abruptly, “but I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

Woljif’s brows draw together in concern, but he hums in acceptance. “You know he kinda looks like you?”

“No, he does not!” It can be hard to tell with aasimars, but Agria far more closely resembles her mother. She has her eye shape and upturned nose. No one has ever accused her of looking like her father’s daughter.

“He does! Not in the face really—well, he does when you look like that—but he walks like you do, like you’ve got somewhere important to be. I’d’ve never tried for one of your wallets.”

“You would have missed out, then. He doesn’t really look where he’s walking either.”

“Maybe not, but can you imagine the chewing out I would’ve been in for if one of you had caught me? Believe me, it’s better this way.”

“I would like you to know that I am more upset with you right now than I was after Drezen.” Agria says, removing her hands from him to cross her arms archly.

“Nah,” says Woljif, poking her lightly in a spot where he knows she’s ticklish. “You love me.”

She really does.

[parkkiablah]

Not sure if I've asked this already .

But could you do a request with Halsin x Female Drow Tav . Or Zevlor X Female Drow Tav . Or Zevlor X Halsin X Female Drow Tav Which ever pair you see this fits better .

maybe tav is insecure & alittle stand offish & very afraid to any romantic relationship because of how people view drow ? Shes liked the men and stolen glances every so often and made sure that if they needed anything thay they have it . She gets hurt but hides it at the tiefling party until either one ( or both if that makes it easier ) sees her off to herself at her own tent ( which she's pitched away from everyone else's) . Getting bandages and healing potions signaling she is hurt but is going to try to heal her wounds herself . (She's a Rouge)

I understand completely if this is too much to ask .

(Thank you so much for the request!! I hope this fits what you were looking for and you enjoy reading 🧡

I went with Halsin x Tav, as I haven't written anything for him yet :3 and yes, I am aware that healing spells don't neccessarily require undressing first, but I just went with it for the sake of the story )

I've had worse. (Halsin x Drow Tav)

If you heard 'I never expected help from one of your kind.' again today you would probably jump in that persons face and claw their eyes out. Not seriously but metaphorically.

You were standing at your camp and the tieflings and Halsin had joined your camp for tonight. Of course you were glad to see them happy and enjoying the night, but you couldn't let your friends do the talking for you as you usually did.

Being aware of the judgement people held for drow you aren't surprised by their reaction, but being kind wasn't so easy, when the injury on your leg made you feel worse every second.

You are aware you could just let Halsin take a look at it and it would probably be done in a few moments, knowing he is quite skilled with healing. Yet your own mind got in the way of that idea.

You had been insecure about being a drow. People were not fond of your kind and you couldn't even be mad about it. Many drow did unspeakable things and it's no wonder to you while people despised them.

You had talked to most people in camp and you seriously had to clean your wound soon. Stuffing a healing potion in your bag, thinking no one saw you, you planned on retreating to your tent, which was away from the other ones.

A small wince escaped you as you took a step and you deeply hoped the others were to focused on their conversations to notice.

But Halsin did notice. He had been stealing just as many glances at you, than you been at him. He won't let you be in pain, so the second he sees you wince and grab healing potions he already knew it.

When you had managed to get to your tent without another misplaces step you sat down immediately, leaning back for a second to take a breath while your eyes closed.

"Let me see your injury.", you heard Halsin's voice and you nearly jumped, not expecting anyone here.

Your eyes were on him instantly as he kneeled down next to you.

"It's nothing, no worries.", you said, still not giving in even though the pain made you already feel dizzy.

"I can see the pain on your face even with you trying to hide it. Let me help you, just like you helped me out of that goblin camp."

He was right and you knew that. Still you were hesitant, especially with the wound on your leg meaning you'd have to undress in front of him.

But as much as you wanted to keep arguing that you were fine, you already knew he wouldn't just leave.

You sighed and started removing your pants, your face heating up just knowing his eyes were on you.

When his eyes were on your wound they widened.

"You really planned to tend to this alone?", he said shocked as his hand ghosted on your leg, healing spells soothing your pain.

"I've had worse. And not many are willing to help my kind."

You avoided your eyes, trying to keep your mind off of the feeling of his fingertips on your thigh.

When your wound closed you felt his hand rest on your thigh were your injury had been.

"Next time you are injured please come to me immediately.", he said making you look at him, worry visible on his face. "Promise it, please."

His eyes locking with yours and you couldn't help feeling small under his gaze. Not just that he himself was huge, but the intensity of his gaze was even adding to it.

"Okay.. I promise.", you said quietly and his hand on your thigh moved, slowly caressing your skin.

You leaned forward, closer to him, your hand finding his cheek in an attempt to pull him closer. His hand was on yours, leaning his face into your palm only to pull your hand away from his face a moment later.

You suddenly felt cold, fearing rejection.

"Don't look at me like that. It is not that I don't want you, I just want to have all of my mind on you and for that I need to lift the shadow curse first."

Your eyes were wide, not expecting him to be so honest and you felt warmth slowly spreading through your body again. A feeling you hadn't felt in a while.

"I'll go back, you should get some rest.", he said, leaning closer to kiss your forehead.

He stood up, moving away from you and walking back to camp, but not without looking back at you for a moment.

[tieflingtareon]

My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 27 | Words: 5.2k

Summary: Astarion found himself often surprised by his heroic companion. He had one goal. To become the favoured companion of the group, to earn the Tieflings loyalty, to make Tar'eons strength his own. Yet Tar'eon isn't like the usual target of his manipulations. Despite his naivety, he does not seem gullible. There is something very wrong with their 'leader' to begin with. Astarion isn't sure if he wants to control it or eradicate the threat it posed. But can he really do either when Tar'eon himself seems so...unwaveringly kind?

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

Tar'eon didn't have his own tent, so he hid away in Astarion's. It was vacant, and if he was honest, he wasn't sure he could stand talking to anyone else right now. He curled up in the piles of clothes, head on the stolen pillow and wrapped up in the blanket from the inn, nestling himself down to sleep. It wasn't even midday but he didn't want to think anymore. For once, he wanted to sleep dreamlessly.

By some miracle, he managed to sleep for a bit before he awoke to the tent opening, sunshine draping across his features.

"There you are." Astarion tutted. "You know, it's quite rude to enter ones abode without permission."

"I needed to be alone, and I don't have my own tent."

"Right, because you prefer sleeping under the stars." Astarion mused and closed the flap behind him, sitting beside the tiefling. "So...are you going to tell me why you suddenly deserted us out there? Oh, by the way, Karlach personally invited Yenna and her cat to stay with us. I told her we have enough strays, but Wyll backed up her decision so..."

"I'm glad she's here, rather than alone." Tar'eon turned to properly face Astarion, sighing. "It's just...seeing Orin - it shook me up. I've never felt so...angry before. In my life. Something about her gets under my skin, and I was afraid of what I'd do. I almost killed that smith."

"Yes, that was...honestly? Quite arousing. Terrifying, but arousing. You really should threaten people more often."

"Astar."

"Right, apologises." Astarion clicked his tongue. "She had a lot to say to you, that shapeshifter."

"Yeah..."

"She called you 'sibling'. Remarked on your father."

"She did."

"Are you going to tell me why she'd say such a thing or...?" Astarion gestured for him to explain, but Tar'eon had nothing to say.

"I don't know. I don't remember. But I know my memories? She took them. She scrambled with my brain and now...I know nothing." He hated her. 'Sister' or not. "Maybe she meant sibling in a different sense. We certainly don't look alike."

"Well, considering you share a father apparently..." Astarion frowned before smirking. "At least I'm not the only one who'll be having a family reunion."

"Gods, I hope not." Tar'eon pinched his brow.

"We still have four hours of daylight...Perhaps a trip to the circus would help take your mind off things?" Astarion mused and Tar'eon chuckled.

"A circus? I don't recall ever going to one."

"Karlach is begging to go, I beg you to save me from this." He pleaded and Tar'eon gave it a thought. The circus...after all the crap they'd been through, a circus sounded quite nice honestly. A day off, if anything. They deserved one of those.

"We should go."

"Ugh, I was hoping you'd say no."

"Then why ask?" Tar'eon grinned, amused but Astarion's pout.

"Because I was trying that 'nice' thing you keep encouraging." Tar'eon shook his head fondly and sat up to kiss Astarion softly.

"I appreciate it. Come on. I don't want to slump about over this. Maybe going out will help."

"That's the spirit. No point in being a depressing lump in my tent."

Tar'eon chuckled. Astarion had played him like a fiddle. But for once, it was to benefit him rather than himself. That was an improvement when it came to his silver tongue.

****

"I'm not wearing that." Astarion refused as Tar'eon crept closer with the face paint.

"Come on! You're supposed to be hiding anyway, aren't you?" Tar'eon grinned.

"I'd rather be found by Cazador than wear that crap on my face."

"Oh, oh, me! Let me!" Karlach insisted, pointing at her own face. Tar'eon laughed and began painting her face with a steady hand. "Oh, it's cold!"

"Everything's cold compared to you, Karlach." Shadowheart chuckled and stole some paint for herself, happy to disguise herself given her current status as a traitor to Shar.

"You're right - I'll happily warm you right up, baby!" Karlach beamed at her girlfriend, and Shadowheart rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.

"Ugh - I'm going to go pick pocket some patrons, anything to escape this dreadful place." Astarion waved his hand and slipped away into a crowd of people. Tar'eon shook his head. He hoped he got caught.

He painted a giant blue butterfly across Karlach's face and she let out a squeal when she saw it.

"Amazing! Gods, I look good. You ever thought of taking up painting once this is all over?"

"I'm not that good." Tar'eon was flattered though.

"Karlach's not joking. You have some talent." Shadowheart assured. "Maybe you painted before."

"A painter and a bard - quite the creative person I was, huh?" Tar'eon mused. He probably painted with blood and charmed people to walk off cliffs with his flute, no doubt.

"You know, I don't think I've ever heard you play." Karlach frowned. "Can you?"

"Of course I can. I can play just about any instrument I put my hands if I put my mind to it. I just...prefer the flute." Tar'eon took his flute and frowned as he walked down the steps. He placed his lips to the mouthpiece and decided to play a cheerful, adventurous tune, eyes falling shut. He hadn't really played because he hadn't the time, or the privacy to. Yet when he put his lips to it, he could feel something connecting inside his brain.

A memory.

In his memory, the tune was softer. More mellow. There was no rush, no upbeat tick to it. Every note was drawn out, peaceful like walking along a riverbank beneath a full moon. Behind his eyelids, he could see a dark office, lit by candlelight. There was a presence behind him, he could feel it, but there was no fear. No anticipation. He was not in danger. The presence was as mellow as his song.

A warm hand curled around his throat, the cold claws sharp but not biting. His head fell back, and within the memory, darkness followed. He had closed his eyes. The music continued to play, air still leaving his lungs as his throat was cradled. There was submission in the act, something he knew was not freely given.

"Tir'yal...are you trying to charm me?" The music did not stop. The hand did not move. There was simply a chuckle, warm and low.

The memory faded into nothing, warped away, but Tar'eon could still feel the phantom hand on his throat as he pulled the flute from his lips. His upbeat tune had changed to that mellow one, and there were people crowding around him, looking mesmerizing.

"Wow..." Karlach breathed. "I don't think I've ever been moved by a flute solo before. Hells." She placed a hand on her chest. "I actually feel...almost cold."

"Was that your own song?" Shadowheart asked. "It was so...calming. Yet sad. I don't think I've ever entertained the flute as an emotional instrument before."

"I...I'm not sure if it's my song. I think it is." Tar'eon frowned, shaking his head. He couldn't get the memory out of his head. He hadn't realised playing his flute would open up more of his past to him. What else could he do to remember it? It was the only memory of his past that wasn't smeared with blood.

Who in Faerun was he? And who was the man with him? He used his infernal name with such ease...Like he knew the language well enough to call it his own.

"Whatever you were playing, it occupied the people well enough for me to nick a very pretty ring and some coin." Astarion grinned as he came to his side. "A beautiful song it was, darling. Perhaps I can show my talents at the piano one day. We'd make quite the duo."

Tar'eon smiled at the thought.

"I'd love to play with you." He could imagine in now, Astarion on the piano with his elegant fingers, Tar'eon with his flute pressed against his lips, creating a harmony together in a house they could call their own. It was a nice dream, and he hoped one day to experience it. He turned around to depart from the crowd and found himself stumbling over a few steps, righting himself in front of a woman with red hair - a druid. Or, he was definitely assuming druid with all the leaves and branches covering her modesty.

"Sorry, I-"

"This city of stone and steel is an endless scream in nature's womb. I have left no peace here." She turned to him and smiled serenely. "Until now. Your eyes, stira...there is pain, endless and deep. But also devotion - blazing like the sun. You're in love, are you not?"

Tar'eon stood straighter, his cheeks a touch hot at how easily she seemed to read him. It was a little unsettling, but there was little to hide from what he was guessing was a nymph - a dryad.

"I...yes. I am." There was no point in lying to the woman. "To someone quite close to me."

"You are wise to admit it. When it comes to love, vulnerability is armour. Truth, a sword. And trust, a shield." Tar'eon took in a deep breath, a little overwhelmed by her insight, but he understood. Love was not weakness. Being weak with the one you love was a strength in itself. To bare yourself before another...it was a risk that came with high rewards if you were lucky to bare yourself to the right person. "I pray you wield all three, stira."

Tar'eon smiled softly. It may be a sham she ran for the circus, but it made him feel good about putting his heart in Astarion's hands, even if they had conflicting views on power.

"Bring the one you love to me. I will look into your hearts and see if your love is eternal. Or doomed eternally." Tar'eon bit his lip. It was probably a scam. He doubted she would be able to know if Astarion and him were worth the journey, the pain and the healing, but...Gods, he wanted to have someone say it was. He wanted to know he was making the right choice with his heart, or if he was doomed to simply live with the heartache Astarion may bring him.

He turned to Astarion who was looking at the dryad sceptically, like he didn't quite think her predictions to be true, but when his eyes met his, they widened.

"Would you...like to try it? With me?" He offered his hand to Astarion and the vampire seemed surprised before he smiled, indulging Tar'eon.

"Oh my love, how could I say no?" He took his hand and came to stand beside him. Most circus' were full of scammers, sham magicians, but he didn't mind go through a little 'test of love' to make Tar'eon feel more secure in...whatever they were. Astarion didn't want to admit it to himself, but - he was also a touch insecure about their relationship. After the previous night, he felt like he was walking on eggshells, trying to ignore the forbidden ritual looming over their heads.

"Close your eyes, little ones. Be still as stone to earth. And remember to breathe."

"Do you think we could try next?" Karlach whispered to Shadowheart who smiled softly.

"I doubt she will be able to tell you anything I can't tell you myself about my feelings for you."

"Gods, I love you." Karlach grinned. "I still want to though."

"Alright, alright. Later."

Tar'eon closed his eyes, smiling to himself. Moments passed, and he only opened his eyes when he felt a shift in the air around him. A gentle breeze, the sound of a waterfall and running water - a lack of noise from the people around them. His hand was now empty as he looked around, finding himself in a peaceful hideaway of stone and moss, a tree trunk the only means to Astarion who stood on the other side with the dryad.

"Ah. Glorious. Your bond is sweeter than nature's dew. I see you. Know you. But do you know one another?"

"I know he's sweeter than nature's dew." Astarion joked, licking his lips and showing off his fangs in a grin as if to tease the dryad. Tar'eon suppressed a laugh, a finger to his lips as if to silence himself.

"Astarion: a tumultuous past hides behind a mirthful grin." Astarion made a small tutting sound at her insightful words. He didn't quite like being seen through so blatantly. "The heart is fraught, so let us begin with the joyous. When is he happiest?"

Tar'eon frowned, giving it a thought. When was Astarion happiest...?

"Well...I like to think he's happiest when we're alone. When he's being heard, listened to, and cared for. He likes fine things, and he like special treatment." Tar'eon mused before chuckling. "But I'd have to say he smiles most when elbow-deep in gore."

Astarion laughed, able to forget the personal part of his words in favour of the satisfying answer.

"Guilty as charged. Sometimes literally." Astarion shrugged with a smirk and Tar'eon walked closer, only pausing when the dryad spoke again.

"Your bond beats in pleasure. It is an honour to behold."

"Not the only kind of pleasure we get up to." Astarion quipped with a grinned. "Well, not recently, but the memories are good enough." He winked. Tar'eon shook his head, smile fond.

"Many things delight the heart, but only one makes it sing. Tell me, what does he desire more than anything?" Astarion frowned, looking away. He damn well knew the answer, but it wasn't one he'd like to be aired out like dirty laundry, thank you.

"Freedom." Tar'eon answered honestly. "That's all he's ever wanted. It's what he deserves."

"You're not wrong, but do we need to tell every stranger we meet our business?" Astarion narrowed his eyes and Tar'eon smiled as he walked closer.

"You're allowed your quips. I'm allowed my honesty." Astarion rolled his eyes.

"Our touch has been that of sunlight, but now we must ask the deep. The difficult. Fear sits in the soul of all - to tame it, we must name it. What is his deepest fear?" Tar'eon looked at Astarion, who was glaring at him, daring him to voice it out loud. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to chuck away the truth just this once. For his sake.

"Breaking a nail." Astarion laughed.

"Well, when you look this good..." He made a show of check his nails before his expression grew more serious, walking across the tree trunk to meet him. "Well, you were right every time. I almost wish you hadn't been, but...you do know me."

Tar'eon smiled and took his hand in his, squeezing gently.

"I press my fingers to your bond and find a shield - impenetrable. It is...beautiful." She sounded awed, and it made Tar'eons heart swell. "Your love is one few have - cherish it." She came closer, and then paused. "I only wonder if it is shared with such fervour."

The pair frowned, looking at her in confusion.

"Tar'eon...when is he happiest?" She was looking at Astarion now, who seemed dumbfounded to be asked such a personal question.

"I...Well..." Astarion actually looked embarrassed as he looked away from them both, Tar'eons hand holding his.

"You don't have to answer. I already know you care for me, Astar."

"Well...it's only fair to spill your dirty secrets in return." Astarion cleared his throat, licking his lips. "I...He's happiest when- when he's with his people." Tar'eons heart warmed, a small smile on his lips, but Astarion wasn't finished.

"He's happiest when he's talking to children, when an animal lets him get close, when he- when he can enjoy a good book in peace, and learn something new and - he seems happiest with...me." Astarion swallowed, heat burning the back of his neck. "Despite how much I'm sure I grate on his nerves."

"Even when I'm annoyed with you, I'm still happy to see you." Tar'eon agreed.

"Gods, you're a sap." Astarion scoffed like he hadn't said something so endearing just moments ago.

"You watch him close, for fear he may leave if you don't. He has made your heart beat again, and it is glorious yet terrifying." She seemed as if she was in love herself, her eyes almost starry despite their bright glow. "Tell me, what does he desire more than anything?"

Astarion bit his lip, sucking on it before he let go and huffed.

"Freedom. We're one in the same in that regard. He wants to be free of parts of himself, and I wish to be free of others."

"Perhaps there is more layers to be found within your partners desires." She mused and Tar'eons stomach churned.

"He was right. I do want to be free." Even if there was much more to it than that. "I want to be in control of my life, my actions."

"What is his deepest fear? The thing he fears above all else?" She continued, and Tar'eon watched Astarion, wondering what he'd say.

"He...he fears losing himself. Who doesn't?" Astarion had lost himself for years in his abuse, so many memories fuzzy from dissociation. From trying to get away in the only way he knew how.

"Perhaps there is something more terrifying than losing ones self?" She was talking to him this time, staring into his very soul, and Tar'eon swallowed hard.

"I...I fear losing him, even more than myself." He admitted. "I'm scared of become a monster; but I fear the monster devouring him more."

"The sword to the shield. Your love is both impenetrable, yet sharp. Where one protects," She gestured to Tar'eon. "The only defends." She smiled at Astarion who couldn't take his eyes off Tar'eon. "A perfect balance. All you need is the armour. Vulnerability. To truly bare yourselves to the other. Do not let secrets and insecurity fester and build a wall between you. Let truth and honesty by your bridge to one another."

She came closer, and the peaceful enclave disappeared, the sound of the city coming back to them. Tar'eon stared at her with wide eyes. He felt like he been stripped raw and put back together. She truly had dug down deep into them and forced them to face the matters at hand. Their love was not doomed - so long as they spoke to each other in truths and not falsehoods.

"Go in peace, seedlings. And know that you made one whose heart was long quiet beat with love anew." She smiled at them and Tar'eon nodded sharply. "And that you," She gestured to Astarion. "Have gained devotion and loyalty unlike any other you could conceive."

The pair stepped back from her, Tar'eon bowing his head in respect. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to say thank you or not.

"I..." Astarion looked lost for words.

"Me next! This is my girl, Shadowheart. We're ready to test our love, nature lady." Karlach grinned and Shadowheart shook her head, beyond amused.

"It can't hurt, I suppose - unless you embarrass me. Then you might find yourself hurting in a whole manner of ways."

"Hopefully only the good kind." Karlach winked. Tar'eon watched as the pair closed their eyes, turning to look at Astarion.

"You really feel that way?" Astarion asked, casting his gaze aside, unable to look into those mismatched eyes. "I...I knew you cared, but I never assumed I would be above your own life. I should have know, you've always had a gentle heart, trying to save everyone."

"You are above everyone." Tar'eon sighed, resigned to that fact of his life. "It's why I don't want you to do the ritual, Astar. Because I know I'll let you, and those deaths will never stop haunting me, knowing I could have stopped you from doing so. One persons life for several seems only justified, until you love that one person too much to ever hurt them."

"You would?" Astarion frowned. "If I did the ritual...you wouldn't leave?"

"I wouldn't. I'm not sure that's a good thing, though."

"I know you think this is only for power for me - but it's more than that. I'm taking everything from him. I will not be satisfied unless I inflict the same torture he inflicted on all of us. On me." Astarion scowled before his expression softened, looking up at Tar'eon. "I could give us so much more time, Tar'eon. If I ascended - you wouldn't have to fear hurting me. And I would never have to fear you dying long before I ever will. I could change you, make you my equal. Things could be perfect. Forever."

"And I would be haunted by the souls we damned, forever." Tar'eon reminded and shook his head softly. "I don't want to lose you. I fear messing with a devils contract will only bite us in the arse later. That you'll become someone different from the person I love."

"I won't." Astarion sighed, not sure how to get through to the man. "I'll still be me. Just...better."

"You are already perfect, Astar." Tar'eon took his face in his hands and thumbed at his cheeks. "There is nothing better than you. Not to me. You are perfection. You haunt my dreams and thoughts, and they are sweeter than anything I could ever taste. You may think yourself broken or imperfect or weak, but you are beautiful and quintessential and strong to me. You don't need some ritual to become better. You need Cazador dead, and to finally have the chance to move on and live."

He rested his forehead against his, eyes falling shut.

"I want to live with you. Once all of this is over, I want to spend the rest of my life at your side, in whatever way you will have me. I want to be your shield, your armour, your blade. I want to be yours, and for you to be mine. I want to be the modest man who worships the ground you walk on, even if I cannot be the rich man you slit the throat of." He chuckled, slowly opening his eyes to look at Astarion.

His eyes were glossy and wet, but he was refusing to shed tears. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at Tar'eon, lips twisted with bitterness.

"You offer all of that to me and expect me to not want it forever." He took his hands and moved them from his face, stepping back and turning around to weave through the crowd. If he was attempting to disappear within it, he was failing, his white curls sticking out like a sore thumb, but Tar'eon let him go.

He sighed, looking up at the sky. Whatever God was watching over him...He'd like a blessing one of these days.

****

He had really hoped there would be no bloodshed at the circus, but apparently whatever God was watching over him hated him and demanded it. He never thought he'd kill a clown, and yet...

He used the carter of water to wash the blood off his face and armour, offering Astarion one as well. Shadowheart was attempting to wash the paint off Karlach's face, but the tiefling was insisting she liked it and didn't want to ruin his 'art'.

"I'm more interested in kissing my girlfriend, not a butterfly." Which managed to make the barbarian sit patiently (she still wiggled, but it was Karlach) while the cleric rubbed blood and paint off her skin.

"Good! You lot made it back in time for dinner." Gale called as he walked away from the fire, quirking a brow. "Murder on the first day? I shouldn't be surprised, but I am. I thought you were scouting Rivington?"

"We went to the circus." Astarion grumbled.

"The circus? What fun! You know, that might help Yenna's spirits - maybe I'll take her and Wyll out tomorrow."

"Oh, uh, we kind of...killed them." Tar'eon admitted.

"You- you killed the circus? By Mystra - why?!"

"They attacked me first!" Karlach piped up, Shadowheart attempting to scrub blue paint from her cheek, holding her by her horn as she attempted to move away from it like a fussy pet. "They deserved it!"

"Absolute worshippers." Tar'eon explained and Gale sighed.

"All the good things get ruined before I can experience them. Surely I can join you tomorrow?"

"That should be fine. Shadowheart, Karlach, are you two alright to stay at camp tomorrow?"

"I guess. I'll just stay here and eat dirt or something." Karlach pouted.

"I'll stay and make sure she doesn't eat dirt." Shadowheart smirked.

"Gale, we leave early tomorrow."

"Fantastic!" The wizard clapped his hands together. "I'm sure Wyll will be happy to join us too."

"Obviously." Tar'eon smiled, knowing the two were basically a package deal at this point, the same as Karlach and Shadowheart.

"Oh amazing, does that mean I get to stay back too?" Astarion purred. "I mean, with two magic users on your team, surely you don't need my petty dagger, hm?"

"Astarion, you dismiss you own prowess!" Gale shook his head. "We all know an arrow from you is a deadly strike. Your precision is unlike anything a wizard myself could master. Magic is much too wild to have the same effect." Astarion grimaced but he accepted the praise.

"Well...someone has to hold this team together." He relented and tucked a curl behind his ear. "It may as well be yours truly."

"It's settled then. Gale, Wyll, yourself and I." Tar'eon smirked, smiling wider when Astarion glared at him. "Missed a spot, ph myirz." He reached over and wiped some blood off his ear.

"You're the exact reason I need time to read, you infernal bastard." Astarion muttered. He still didn't know what those damn words meant.

"Hm?" Tar'eons eyes crinkled with mischief as he shifted closer to the vampire, leaning in with a smirk. "You are the most radiant man I've ever met, and I want to consume every inch of you to shine half as brightly. I want to suck every last drop of sunlight out of your body through your cock." He let the natural hiss of the language overtake his words, the infernal sliding off his tongue like butter, and laughed into Astarion's shoulder when Karlach squawked.

"You dirty fuck!" She cackled. Tar'eon had forgotten she spent ten years likely speaking infernal to her fellow soldiers.

"I- Gods, what did you say?" Astarion asked, bewildered.

"Apparently something very naughty." Gale smirked.

"Keep studying, and maybe you'll find out." Tar'eon grinned.

"Oh you-" Astarion glowered and shoved him away, retreating to his tent.

"Xe dajy haf!"

"Keep your devils tongue to yourself!"

"That's the opposite of what he wants to do, buddy." Karlach snorted. Astarion closed the flap of his tent sharply and Tar'eon blushed.

"You think I went too far?" He asked.

"He's a big boy. He can take a joke." Shadowheart chuckled.

"Dinner is going to get cold if we keep chatting. Clean yourselves up and come to the fire. Yenna is quite the cook, with a guiding hand." Gale smiled with pride and made his way back to the fire where Wyll was helping Yenna with the hot ladle, pouring stew into a bowl for her.

Tar'eon smiled to himself. Even if her mother never came back for her...he was sure she wouldn't be alone. Not anymore.

****

As per usual, restless sleep plagued him. He scowled as he tossed and turned, trying to find peace in his dreams for once, but it seemed he did not get a choice.

"Naughty, naughty, naughty little master." He growled at the familiar voice, shooting up to face Fel, but he was no longer on his bedroll. Instead he was surrounded by stone, ominously doused in red light, an altar before him. He felt like he was home, yet it was unsettling all at once. Something was wrong. This wasn't camp. This wasn't home.

"You have disobeyed your Father's wishes one time too many." Fel's voice was still heard, but he couldn't see him, walking closer to the skull carved into the wall. There was a sense of dread, but also...belonging. Devotion. This...this was Father.

"For he who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself becomes a monster." The sockets of the skull burst red with magic, staring down upon him. Father was here. Father was watching. "When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you."

He felt another presence in the room and turned to the altar, the slab of stone he could remember from another dream. The dream where he killed his guardian, his sacrifice. Now, Orin laid there, playing with her blade. A blade that didn't belong to her, his mind whispered with wrath.

"Another will embrace what you have rejected." Orin turned to look at him and he glared in response to her baring of teeth. "And that other will be your death." If he wasn't hers first, his conniving bitch of a sister, always after his destiny-

His destiny? No. No, that wasn't right...

"But your Father loves you dearly. You may reinherit yourself yet." Fel assured even as Orin pointed her dagger at him. His heart began to race. This was all wrong. This wasn't who he was. He wasn't- he couldn't be-!

Orin turned into a fearsome creature, with more spikes and claws and teeth than any beast of the Hells could conjure up. It struck fear into his very soul and he stumbled back as it approached, a heavy foot slamming down into his chest, pinning him to the altar.

"Slaughter your line. Become the last of your name." The Urge, the anger, it screamed in him to do it, to slaughter his sister, but the human part of him, his present self, didn't want to be another pawn in this game.

"Lord Bhaal shall have but one Chosen."

He wanted to be Father's favourite again. He wanted to be his Chosen. He wanted to be forgiven. He wanted to-

He wanted to kill Orin.

Sister or not, Chosen or not, he would kill the woman who stole his memories from him. Stole him from his life. He would kill Bhaal's Chosen, take her stone, and he would set things right.

He woke with a start, breathing hard. Rage burned beneath his skin as snatches of his past came back to him, all coated in gore and blood, in worship and devotion. He had lead his congregations, had been their master for years, and Bhaal...Bhaal had been his. A cruel master and...his father.

He was his spawn. His heir. His child.

That wasn't who he was anymore. He refused to be...All those bodies, all the blood, he would never be able to atone, but regardless, he was a different person entirely. Who he was before - it wasn't who he was now.

Yet he knew he would never be free of his Urge, not until he confronted the past...Orin was an abomination, mad and bloodthirsty. Even without his grudge against her, he knew he had to kill her. To end the Bhaal line with himself. By killing her, he could get her stone, and cut their father off from his plans with the elder brain. He killed Ketheric, and he would kill Orin. He would have all the stones in the palm of his hand. He'd be able to make things right.

'And Enver?' His mind whispered, and he couldn't remember when the mans first name become more familiar to his mind then his last, even with all memories of him being hidden to him or too fuzzy to be certain.

He didn't have an answer for the question, the implication, and that worried him more than anything; even more so when even the Urge did not beg for his bloodied body alongside Ketheric and Orin's.